Chapter 5:

Tino was struggling to keep up with Ilta. He always had. She was telling this new Swedish man to take him away from her? Oh Hel no. Ilta would either live or Tino would be there to witness her death. There was no other way.
"Take him or I swear to any and all gods I will haunt you as a ghost." Ilta threatened and Tino almost felt a flicker of a smile. Ilta was always empty with her threats; she just attacked, she didn't give you time to prepare. Tino recognized that another voice had entered the conversation.
"Lord Berwald we have to leave now!" Tino clutched onto Ilta desperately. In a sudden surge of energy that surprised him into loosening his hold, Ilta rocked upright, kneeling in front of the giant man called Berwald and snatching his clean pale hand in her bloodied one. Ilta didn't say anything, just looked at him evenly, with unblinking eyes. Though Berwald's eyes were fixed solely on Ilta's, Tino noted how interesting a color the Swede's eyes were. Slowly, her hand slid out of his, leaving a smear of ruby blood on the man's hand. Berwald looked at his hand for a silent moment, then closed his beautiful eyes, took a deep breath in, and let it out. His eyes snapped open.
"Mount up!" he called, "We ride in five minutes!" Ilta fell back into Tino's lap. Her eyes were closed and her breathing surprisingly even, as if she were to fall asleep any moment.
"Forgive me Tino." She said in Finnish, "Rakastan sinua, rakas ystävä." Tears welled in Tino's eyes.
I love you, my dear friend.
"There's nothing to forgive." He choked out. Tino felt tears on his face as he leaned in to kiss her forehead, "Minäkin rakastan sinua, Ilta." He whispered.
I love you too, Ilta.
"Sorry." Came Berwald's gruff voice the instant before his fist made contact with the back of Tino's neck, knocking him out in an instant.
"Take care of him." Ilta rasped, hearing the men leave the clearing.
Berwald scooped him in his arms, nodding, "I will." Then he was gone.

Ilta wouldn't die quickly. She could feel the cold Swedish winds freezing her blood already. She would die of frostbite or hypothermia; sinking from cold, to colder, to freezing, to warmth. She had almost gone this way before and knew how quick it would happen. Night fell quicker than she had expected, and with it, soft snow. Ilta watched as the stars slowly filled the sky, feeling her body stiffen and become colder and colder, but being too exhausted to even shiver. It seemed like forever until the cold became colder and Ilta was wondering how long it would take to transition from the colder to the freezing stage when she heard footsteps approach her. With years of training ground into her bones, she was awake in an instant. She sighed in remorse. The footsteps stopped. A face came into her line of vision. A face that was uncomfortably familiar to her, though Ilta was too tired to remember why.
"You look horrible." The figure said, "I came thinking I could finally fight you properly, but you're almost dead. This isn't what I signed up for."
"Tino's gone. I'm almost dead. Go back to Russia, Natalya." The woman shrugged, bundled lightly against such cold. She crouched down next to Ilta and checked the Finnish woman over. Then she sat back, thinking. She seemed to come to a decision. With as much effort as it takes to lift a feather, Natalya scooped Ilta up.
"You will die in a more proper place." The Russian woman said. Ilta rolled her eyes.
"Whatever you say, just let it be quick." Natalya flashed a smile.
"Worry not, dead-woman. Natalya will make sure things end right."

Berwald left Tino in his own room, stoked a fire and called for a doctor. He watched the boy called 'Tino' sleep for a moment, taking in the boy's appearance. He was beautiful. With hair like the sunshine itself and amethyst eyes, he had strange, but beautiful coloring. Berwald had seen earlier that his figure was slim, but not skinny. He seemed to have the right amount of fat and muscle on his body, and from the way he was wielding that longbow, his arms and back would be powerful. The boy moved his head and spoke, shocking Berwald.
"Ilta . . ." he breathed, ever so quietly. Berwald left the room with a strangely heavy heart.

When the doctor came back out, he told Berwald that Tino had no lasting injuries and for a trip through the woods and a hit to the head, was in stunningly good condition.
Berwald grunted and as the doctor left, Ander came in. Without a word, Berwald tossed a document to the young soldier. Ander let out a cry of shock when he read what was written there.
"But I'm much too young!" he protested again, "I couldn't possibly- the men wouldn't respect me!"
"Then get them to." Was Berwald's answer. "Dismissed." After Ander had left the room, Berwald removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. He then rubbed his temples, and then stretched his neck side to side, trying to rub the knots out of his shoulder. He was tired, too tired to notice the door to his room open. It was attached directly to Berwald's large office. His room was actually meant to be an apprentice's room, but that obviously didn't happen. When deft fingers descended on his shoulders to work on the knots, it took more than a few moments for Berwald to process it. He moved to leap up from his chair when those same fingers jammed down on a nerve so hard, Berwald fell to his knees.
"I don't mean to be rude." Tino said from behind Berwald, "But I'm going to ask you a few questions."

Ander walked to down to the castle main, dazed. If it didn't mean death to defy your Lord, Ander would have argued way more hotly about the decision to make him captain. It still didn't feel real. The reality sure was taking it's time to sink in. Instead of going to the barracks, Ander's feet carried him to the stables where his mare, Estre, ate dried hay. Even though she had already been groomed, Ander picked up a currycomb and began the process again, trying to organize his thoughts. He was now the Captain of the Oxenstierna Castle Guard.
It was the weirdest feeling.
He, Ander, was only twenty years old and the captain of a castle guard! It was hard to swallow. By now, the news was sinking in, and Ander had to admit he was a bit proud of himself. The currycomb stopped its strokes. But now he wouldn't be able to go to the surrounding villages and teach the children their letters. It was an irritating drawback, but with the increased pay the Captain got, it would go far to funding his school. Ander finished combing Estre and made to leave the stables, when he rammed right into another body. Both stumbled back, looking up to see whom they had run into.
Both recognized each other.
Violet eyes met baby blue ones.
That's when both realized that something had happened.