A weary sigh clashes with the rolling wind passing between the two entrance flaps held together only by a simple knot between them. The papers and rolled-up scrolls strewn about on the table in front of the Hero of Xoff are not made unrest by the wind inviting itself into the tent, but by the confused and angered shuffling between, underneath, and above the variously scribbled parchments both weathered yellow and freshly beige. Like a deck of cards shuffled one more time to prove that they haven't been tampered with.
The game that the scrolls and military papers have dealt to the High Officer are not that of simple tavern strategy to win a few coins though, but of a skirmish that will end with more than just a lighter purse should the game not be played well with the parchments dealt.
And dealt they have been.
Not just by the will of the High Officer leaning back in his chair to dodge the slicing beam of vivid sunlight slashing through the oscillating gap of the two weakly linked tent flaps. Many reasons have led to this day of days that the High Officer has both awaited with patience and looked forward to with a blend of both pride and revenge.
To finally meet the monsters on terms that could finally be written down as glorious. To finally have a proper battle instead of opposition-free skirmishes as his army took one monster village after another. His lean back in his chair was not fully confident though.
There was a slight rocking motion which sank the chair's back legs deeper into the slightly hardened soil of the field that only a busy week ago was like any other field around it. The rocking motion was from the High Officer struggling to decide whether or not the slowdown the monsters had caused by their frequent hit-and-run tactics was something to be ashamed of or something to be expected considering the circumstances.
It had been constant progress for the humans, but it had been slower than should have been due to the monster resistance. There hadn't been any casualties, only material loss. Horses frightened into forests. Wheels on supply caravans destroyed. Rocks that have seemingly dropped out of the sky to prevent nightly rest. Again though, no casualty among the humans that were present at those many, many attacks.
Which meant that there was still more fear to be found among the monsters which they did not want to provoke by killing any human. The other side of that coin would be that the monsters did not take the humans seriously.
From the soldiers' testimony the High Officer knew that such wasn't the case. The way the soldiers described the fear of the monsters were always the same. Always a colorful description of how the flakes of the white dust shimmered like falling sand for those that hailed from Xoff, and like falling snow for those that hailed from Hjearta.
There was no need to burn most of the villages as pillaging minimized the losses from the monster attacks. The few villages that did fight back got to know why they shouldn't have. They got to know the smell of burnt dust.
And they got to tell the others about it.
"Ashes to ashes."
That morale seemed to regain much more when the monster villages made resistance compared to when they didn't reminded the High Officer of the days before he became the Hero of Xoff. He remembered catharsis when the County Generals fell through with their talks and disputes flared up into conflict.
Each poorly healed wound on his body he could have told stories about that would have lasted throughout an entire night around a campfire. It was simpler back then when there was a distinct line between humans and monsters.
Oh how he mourned those times.
Those times when there wasn't a need of a Hero of Xoff. Those times when there was no such thing as a Fusion.
Let alone two.
But there wouldn't be a third one. There would not be a third chance for the monsters to subjugate the power of the human soul. Outside the tent, behind the gentle flaps of the loosely knotted tent entrance, his army was preparing their last to bring a swift and decisive end to the war. They had been cautious and conducted the war like it had been one between two human factions. It was how it started, after all.
It was how the Xoff and Hjearta armies were mustered and how they had trained and prepared for it to play out. The Second Fusion changed all that. Changed alliances and changed allegiances. A being so powerful and dangerous that the question of the rightful heir to the Xoff crown was halted in its momentum-filled tracks. Had the High Officer not already experienced something that drastic from when the plague ravaged Xoff to the point where all semblance of military command collapsed into ruin he would not be sitting in the chair that he did, rocking gently as he indulged himself in thought.
It was not treacherous and or traitorous to realize when the flag one carried was burning fiercely, and to drop it in favor of another set of colors. For that was just what they were, only colors. The High Officer had worn many throughout his career.
With the constant flux between the County Generals there was no real reason to be loyal to someone who would just point you in one direction while he fled the other. Surrendering to save lives was not cowardly. Surrendering to not have your home and village burned was looking ahead to what was behind the different colors waving in the same wind that waved yours.
The colors of the monster flags in their villages were always white no matter what in the end.
Be it by paint or by their dust.
On the other side of the field there were flags of purple still swaying. The High Officer did not have to look outside to confirm once again of that sure fact. There was pride among the monsters. Pride that had them fighting even when they knew that there was no chance. They had hope. No matter what, they had hope. The High Officer respected that.
But he did not condone it.
For he would not have been in this chair of his had he put all his faith into hope. Had he hoped that his County General would have stood by his side no matter what he would have been dead. Had he hoped that the plague would blow over then he would have been dead. Hope was what the people of Xoff saw in him just because he knew that it was fickle.
He knew that it led to being mired in one's action instead of seeking new ones. It was hope that gave him agency, but only in its absence. The High Officer did not abandon hope, but instead he had resigned from its grasp over him.
He had seen hope in the purple flags too distant to make out the Delta Rune that he still knew was on them all. He had seen the hope that the Monster Royals instilled in their Monster Army.
And he knew that he would be victorious.
The chair landed back on all four of its feet with a slight creak to it, with the High Officer's battle garments swaying with the motion. It was a design of his own make. An idea that came to him after he had acclimated to the sting from his hurt pride which sizzled from the monster tactics. He had been taught many things about warfare, but the most important lesson was, as always, the most difficult to remember when it was needed.
Pride means nothing. Victory is only achieved when the enemy is defeated.
The armor of the combined human army was designed to withstand another human army. It was made with physical might in mind. To protect against spears, swords, maces. It was not meant to pursue, but to clash. It was not meant to chase, but to advance. It was sturdy to hold against sturdy.
Exactly the opposite of how the monsters conducted their side of the war. They tempted chase. They hit faster than the human armor could react to. They showed the liability of the complicated structure that the human army relied upon to flaunt its might and size. It had been the instruction of Sir Gerson, and the human armies had been constructed in accordance to pride and might.
With him as the enemy though it should not have been a surprise that he knew how to cripple the system he himself had been a cornerstone in constructing. Still though, the combined human army was caught in complete surprise. Still their pride flared up in anger at the initial halt towards a swift victory over the monsters.
"Manny..." the High Officer said with a calm smile towards the small gap between the tent flaps. Had it not been for him…
"Manny..." the High Officer said again with pain draining his calm smile. Had it not been for them…
When was that child going to be allowed by this world to forget the two Fusions? The High Officer did what he could. He adopted Manny. He gave Manny a home and a future which had been taken from him at Clinic Village. It was something the High Officer was capable of. The Hero of Xoff took it upon himself to care for one of the symbols of the ravaging plague and the First Fusion.
Manny was the only one that still wanted to pursue magic after the fall of Clinic Hill. That the High Officer took upon himself to nurture. Not by himself, but by bringing the child within the walls of the Noitaidarr Castle. He cared for Manny like a father, something the High Officer had never managed to before.
But then…
Then there was nothing he could do about what happened to Manny after the Second Fusion. There wasn't anything he could do to help. He did not understand what it was the Manny had done or what it meant to the boy, so how was the High Officer supposed to help? He had sworn to not let what happened to him happen to Manny. The Fusion's Curse would not lay a finger upon the boy. His magic would be pure. His soul would be pure as well under the protection of the High Officer.
But Manny stepped out of that protection.
Manny willingly let the Second Fusion into his soul. He willingly approached it in more ways than anyone dared not to. He saved everyone. He defeated the Second Fusion by sacrificing himself. He sacrificed himself in front of his own family. In front of his own father. He gave himself up so that the High Officer could live.
For as much as the High Officer swelled with pride over having a son that was strong enough in both soul and spirit to make such a decision without any hesitation or care for what it would mean for himself, there was also a great shame within the High Officer. A shame that only a parent could feel when the sacrifice was from their child rather than themselves.
It should have been the High Officer that sealed the Second Fusion within his soul. It should have been him that took it upon himself to lock himself out of doing any magic again in his life. It shouldn't have been Manny! Why did it have to be his son?
And for how much thought the High Officer had spent on the question, his answer was still the same as when he first posed it to himself. It hadn't changed no matter how much he had tried to argue away from it.
It couldn't have been someone else than Manny.
For who else could it have been, really?
The Royal Mage of Ice who was frozen in fear even more than his name would suggest when the news of the Second Fusion reached him? He who had not experienced any of the two Fusions at all? He who had not experienced any hardship in his life at all? Or would it have been the Royal Mage of Noitaidarr? She who could barely remember how to cast a spell anymore? Or would it have been Sarbor who would have claimed his second slay of the Fusion out of two as he sat cowering in that tent of his at the infirmary?
The two Monster Mages had plenty of time, but with the effort they put in they seemed happy enough with keeping the Second Fusion alive instead. Keep such an abomination alive to use against the humans after they had subjugated it, most likely. Another secret to their Cooperative Connection that they refused to share with the humans, even more likely.
"Damn them all."
The collar which held together the front and back cloaks of the battle garments tugged at the High Officer's neck as the back piece catched itself on the corner of the chair's backrest. It only took the High Officer rolling his shoulder for the fabric to come loose, but it was still something that happened rather than did not. Would it had happened had he been wearing his old armor? Probably not.
However though, there were other situations where wearing heavy armor would have been obstructive, so it was not as if the new, lighter, and nimbler battle garments were worse on principle.
It was mostly that they weren't tested yet. The theory was sound for their existence and their craftsmanship was of the highest quality. Even on such a short notice of just a few short months the entire combined human army was fitted with them. Up close one could see that the patterns differed from those garments requisitioned from Hjearta and those requisitioned from Xoff, but at a distance they all looked the same.
For the monsters they all looked the same.
The High Officer squinted at the sunshine that peeked through from behind the clouds above as he exited his tent which he had spent a bit too much time in. The preparations for the Final Battle were underway around him. The orders he had written and talked with the lesser officers about in his tent had spread out to instruct their respective divisions. There was commotion in the human camp. People were busy. Soldiers were preparing.
And the High Officer could see that the same was taking place across the grassy field as well. The large, purple flags were swaying differently. There were more of them than the day before. There were more of the monsters visible compared to the day before. There was magic in the air that colored the air above and around the monster camp as if different sunsets from different time of the year were flaunting how much more gorgeous they were compared to the other seasons.
So, so much color.
But come morn all of it would be white.
"High Officer!"
He afforded the approaching doctor a mere quick glance over his shoulder before returning his eyes across the vast field between him and the monsters. "Dr. Sarbor," addressed the High Officer as he was joined on his side by the watch-checking human. The distinct click of its brass lid opening the High Officer was well-acquainted to. It was a weathered click which was in need of some lubricant. "Anything I can help you with?"
The watch closed together louder than it was opened with a thin, surrounding, and crystal-like shimmer around it. It lingered throughout the doctor's weary exhale before dissipating into the quiet wind that smelled like wet grass. "You can start by deciding for once which honorific you want to be addressed as, Shuuja." Snugly the watch fit into the single breast pocket on the dark felt vest layered over a stained shirt with both its collar and wrists rolled up.
"Abandoning the title as the Hero of Xoff as to show that you're willing to capitulate fully to the Xoff and Hjearta kings was just a show of good faith on your end. I am grateful that you did so, as I'm sure all those in this army that were with us too." Sarbor's bushy mustache twitched. "However now that you're to lead them again I'm sure they would want to follow the Hero of Xoff into the Final Battle rather than the High Officer of Humanity."
"Well," the High Officer began with a steady breath and a look to the side where a group of fletchers were servicing a crate of bows, "that certainly may be true." He nodded, but the nods were mostly for himself.
"However you should know by now that this army is that of more than just soldiers of Xoff, Dr. Fech. You have treated those of Hjearta in their creed too, no? Surely you're not to imply that the Hjearta soldiers are better than those from Xoff. That you've only treated soldiers from Xoff and not any from Hjearta?" The High Officer shook his head. "Doesn't matter to me though as it is not because of the soldiers that I struggle with choosing which one to wear."
"Not Rasliela, I assume?"
A quirked brow raised. It was enough to answer the question, but the Hero of Xoff wanted to say more than just the answer. "If anything she helped bring out the king from our king, did she not?" A small, silent pause threatened to grow further between the two before the High Officer cleared his throat.
"It was her last chance for glory and to make a significant change in the world, so it's no wonder that she's become..." The words refused to leave the High Officer's tongue. "How would you call it?" he instead directed towards Dr. Fech. "In medical terms?"
"Languid towards the state of things?" Sarbor offered back. "Not too languid though as I suspect that her magic on my watch would have stopped functioning by then. Although..." He patted his breast pocket. "What with magic staying without any thought to it..."
The Hero of Xoff hummed. "Well, after this Final Battle we will finally be rid of this curse of ours. Be it by catharsis or be it by the monsters finally surrendering the last of their secrets about the Cooperative Connection. They will be willing to talk once they can no longer evade telling us the full truth."
"And the risk of bringing forth a Third Fusion?"
The High Officer shook his head before Dr. Fech could finish his sentence. "There will not be an element of human casualty here today. It will not be applicable." He made sure to keep as factual a tone as possible. "This is a battle with only one outcome. This is a battle that is as close to a formality as possible. We have everything on our side including a numerical advantage and the sun at our back."
"Which we had at the battle with the Kings of Xoff and Hjearta as well," reminded Sarbor with his arms folding over his chest and with a distant horizon forming in his eyes. "I do beg your pardon for not giving you my complete trust in this, but..." He closed them in quiet anticipation. "Who do we have to stop a Third Fusion should it happen? You trust in the abilities of your men and of those that stand on this side of the field." A single, hard nod was cast over the quiet field. "But do you trust them?"
With just a slight tilt to his head the Hero of Xoff glanced at the doctor, bringing him back from the distant horizon he was soon to lose himself in. "Do you?" he posed with a visible heave to his breaths. "Your sister–"
"Your son," Dr. Fech replied immediately, meeting the Hero of Xoff's hard gaze with his own equal. "Don't think this will be all over once this Final Battle is over. If anything it will make things even more complicated. This is not an end, but a new beginning for these troubled times we live in." The doctor lowered his head, shaking it wearily. "Even more so with Rasliela sending away that division to lay siege to Jarasevo."
The Hero of Xoff would have had some choice words for her had he been in the position to with that decision of hers. It didn't really matter though as one platoon less would not make any difference in the battle come morn. Besides, the High Officer agreed in the old Royal Mage's thinking that it might bring away the remaining two Monster Mages from the Final Battle if they heard that a contingency of the human army were on its way towards Jarasevo.
But that would be for over there though.
The High Officer was here.
At the Final Battle.
Ready to crush the monsters!