"What the hell?" Davie said in confusion.
Roger and the rest of the Leopards stood firm as the lines in front and around them held, just barely, when a sudden feeling, if that was the way to describe it, filled the air. The rebels noticed it as well, and the fighting slowed as all sides tried to figure out what exactly was going on. Having been thrust forward once again, Roger was fully expecting to be in the eye of the storm when the lines finally gave out, but now he wasn't sure of anything.
"It sounded like horses," Parky said dumbly.
"That can't be," Hawke replied. "We didn't have any damn horses."
Roger was about to add his own opinion when he realized that the rebels ahead of them were, unbeliveably, starting to break. Their morale had already been damaged by the intervention of his Eldar allies, but whatever just happened was the last straw. Suddenly, a voice yelled over the nearly silent right flank of Edmunds little army.
"The Captal's charged through their center! They're breaking across the line! Forward! Send them running!"
It was Lord Diazon, who quickly moved to the line to begin hacking away at the men who had tormented his strained regiment for over an hour. Then, bit by bit, the Vretans began pushing forward, forcing what was once steady, immovable warriors that could only push them into a retreat with every step forward. Momentum swung once again into the Anglois' favor, and where once it was a close fight, now turned into indiscriminate slaughter. It quickly became apparent that between being slaughtered by what they assumed was demons, having their center suddenly smashed, and from the terrified spluttering of the quickly killed, the possible death of their Emir, the battle was actually about to be won.
"I told you," Roger whispered with a grin, even though the one it was directed to was far away on a hill.
"What?" Davie asked.
"Nothing Davie. We need to push forward with the rest of the Vretans!"
"Aye!"
It wasn't just because he wanted to win this battle, he had to find out if the five who went ahead and saved the regiment were still alive. He had a feeling that it was not to be, but there was enough of a chance that he was willing to risk it, even as the fighting was almost over. He had an obligation, and owed a debt. He watched the line move slowly forward, then it broke again, but not from the sheer onslaught of the rebels, but from chasing a disorganized and fleeing foe. He had his opening now.
"Davie, we're following them!"
"You already told me!"
"Well then do it you old bastard!"
He laughed as he and the other Leopards followed Roger, cutting through rebels in various states of terror, desperation, and no will to continue the fight. He knew there was a policy of no prisoners officially, but most were too busy chasing their enemies to notice the ones who did hand in their swords.
"Keep moving!" he yelled, then stopped as he heard something.
The clarion call of advance echoed from the hill, and it was all the proof he needed to determine that Edmund had done the impossible: he had won.
XXXXXX
"Look at them run! Look at them! Isn't it marvelous, Your Grace!"
Edmunds mood had gone from hopeful to ecstatic in less than an hour, starting with the Captal's signal and reaching a fever pitch when he saw the rebels on either side start to flee back the way they came.
"The God-Emperor has truly blessed us this day, has he not?"
"Ulgan, what do you have to say about this?"
Having been introduced shortly after the Captal's arrival, the Prince had found the sipahi an intriguing and welcome presence in his retinue.
"We were thoroughly unprepared," he said in bitter disappointment. "My brother-in-law had no idea what he was getting into. He deserves this defeat."
"Actually, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I am getting reports from my knights that the emir is believed dead by his men."
Ulgan blinked and sniffed.
"Oh dear. What a loss."
"You don't seem all that bothered."
"Would you weep for a brother-in-law?"
"Probably not."
"And his death means my sister is now the… queen, I suppose in your homeworlds parlance, of Al-Madin. And her husband is a much better and honest man than Sal-Hadin ever was, forgive me for speaking ill of the dead, Your Grace."
"The Emperor has struck the impure down, you have nothing to apologize for my son. It only grieves me that so much blood was spilled for such ill-guided and easily cowed heretics and traitors."
Ulgan shrugged, trying to figure out who the two thin, lithe women near the Prince were. They looked human, but something was off about them, he couldn't figure out what exactly. The Anglois had been ordered to pursue and destroy their enemies, but were to take prisoners. Having been given no such quarter, to give such leniency was sure to make Edmund look better by the end of it.
"Steryn, did you get enough inspiration?"
"Plenty, Your Highness."
"Excellent! Well, now that we've won this, we'll have to figure out what to call this. Sipahi, what is the nearest town to here?"
Ulgan thought for a moment and shrugged.
"If you would call Coloda a town, it's three buildings and seven people. Or was."
"Coloda… that sounds not very dramatic. Anything else?"
"There is Acra-"
"The battle of Acra… that's it. Acra. Put that in the rolls, John! The Triumph at Acra! Dad's going to love that."
He turned to the bishop to find him in a hushed conversation with Sister Evita. His Grace sat up in the saddle and turned to Edmund.
"Your Highness, Sister Evita wishes to join Serjeant Wessyng and his men, now that the battle seems concluded."
"I have no issue with it. Do you have any weapons on you, sister?"
She blinked at him before answering.
"My fists will be enough."
"In that armor, I'll believe it. Get to it, you have my blessing."
"Your Highness."
The Sororitas scampered off to the right of his army, whose entire line surged forward. Discipline and formation slowly broke down, but the threat was over. Edmunds victory was secure, his enemy routed, his opposing commander dead, and now he was-
"Your Highness, I believe the Captal needs aid."
"I see that. We shall give it to him. Your Grace, do you wish to join us?"
"My mace was pitifully un-blooded, we shall rectify that."
"Alright! If you're mounted, follow me! The Captal has won us this battle, we're going to save his life!"
He drew the Claw of Gasceaux and thrust it forward, Boucicault not needing any work of the spurs to get him to move. Soon, twenty four horsemen, including the Bishop, were rushing down the hill towards the center. In no time at all, they all had crashed into the quagmire the Captals squadrons had found themselves in. They were holding their own, but a horseman not charging was one not in their element. Smashing through what was left of the center of the emirs grand army, the Prince and his bodyguard cut through them with ease. Edmund himself sliced five men to bits, the power sword cutting through any armor or weapons that made feeble attempts to stop him. A few others desperately tried to fight off the Bishop, but religious fervor and a mace would do horrors beyond imagining to the skulls of the heretical and impure. Screaming scripture as he killed, the Bishop of Chelmster struck terror and struck down as many men as Edmund with little care for his own safety. He was guaranteed that by the Emperor himself, what did he have to fear?
"Your Highness! I must thank you for the help!" the Captal yelled as he kicked a rebels teeth in with his armors boots. "We did a hell of a job, did we not?"
"Of course, dear Captal! You have won the-" Edmund paused as he chopped a rebels head off. "Battle for me and all of Anglerre today! You will be well rewarded, I promise you!"
"All the more to push further!"
The rebels were rushing away from them, either in terror or realizing that they had been utterly defeated. Sipahis fought to control it, but only the trained soldiers of Al-Madin would make even cursory attempts to obey. What was once their largest and greatest asset, the poorly trained levies, was now their greatest heel, turning what could have been a disorganized retreat into a complete and utter rout. A few more minutes of close fighting ensued, ending as the Prince and Captals horses stood alongside one another, watching as the infantry, even through their bloody wounds and exhaustion from the days fight, pushed ahead to force the rebels off the field.
"Damn fine work. And you got here at the right time. Diazon and the right were about to break when you got here."
"No Swan-song today I suppose."
The two laughed at the nickname given long ago to the Vretan banneret as they watched the red and blue Guardsmen finally stop, either too tired to continue or satisfied that they had won a complete victory. Edmund signaled to his bodyguard that he wished to ride forward, waving at the Captal that he needed to do something first. He rode hard to the end of the nearly seven thousand men ahead of him, who all were cheering, praying, or trying to figure out how they had survived it all. It did not take long for them to notice him, and the center all kneeled before him. He drew his sword, light crackling around the blade, tore off his helmet and lifted it into the sky
"DIEU EMPEREUR ET MON DROIT!" he cried, the motto of his royal ancestors on Terra, and the motto of every King of Anglerre since its conquest.
The Guardsman all around him cheered, echoing in waves as the rest of the army figured out what he had said. He had every right to celebrate and summon the spirit of his forebears.
He had won.
XXXXXX
"What do you mean he's missing!" Evita said, almost trembling in anger.
"We all split up," Roger said thoughtlessly, sitting down and trying to process the hell he had survived, the others trying to find the bodies of friends or loot on the richer men.
Davie and Hawke were doing so with vigor, Bob tending to the wounded who had a chance of survival.
"He's your responsibility!"
"He's a grown bloody man!" Roger snapped, the struggles of the day and anxiety welling up in him. "He's probably somewhere up front with the rest of them. You might catch them at this rate, the Vretans are so exhausted they can barely walk."
"Is he even alive?"
"Last I saw him," Davie answered, "Was over on the left. Somewhere around there."
He pointed to what was the regiment's left flank.
"Useless. You are all useless!" she muttered, heading over to Davies' suggested location.
The four sighed or continued their bloody work. This had probably been the worst fighting that any of them, save Davie, maybe Bob, had been through. It was different when you were fighting with your regiment, side by side and holding the line versus rushing in to plug every hole that had nearly broken the flank, and now they had nothing to do. No orders, no objectives, just trying to dig through the wreckage. Roger was almost catatonic, just sitting down and blankly staring at the sky or the fields of dead, amazed he was alive. He thought about meeting Anya, or trying to figure out where Kallen was. Maybe he would have a better idea of what to do next, or at least-
"Boss!" Hawke suddenly called out.
Turning to him, Roger could see his squamates face was one of pain and sadness. He stood up and rushed to his side and looked down on.
"No. God-fucking-dammit!"
The body at their feet was wearing green armor, black dreadlocks dangling from its helmet. Dried blood covered the chestplate, a dozen or so stab wounds etched across it. A bright jewel shone at its neck. He kneeled down at its side and rubbed his eyes, tears welling up and stinging his face.
"I thought you said they would stay out of it."
"They were supposed to. They should have."
The rebels had been able to reform their lines a short while after the Vretans pushed forward, so he had suspected that this had happened.
"Bloody hell, why didn't they listen?"
"How many were there?"
"Five."
He rubbed his eyes again and shook his head.
"Thrones sake."
Hawke put a hand on his shoulder in support.
"If they wouldn't have done that, it would have been us and every man in our army laying down in the dirt."
"That doesn't mean they should have sacrificed themselves for us! There was no reason to!" he yelled in anguish.
Hawke patted his shoulder again and moved in front of him to look into his eyes.
"Boss, I can think of one. Hell, I can think of a couple. But you couldn't stop them. And frankly, if the roles were reversed… I probably would have done the same."
Roger sniffed and rubbed his cheeks before nodding.
"Aye. I would have too. I won't lie about that."
"C'mon. The other four are probably around here somewhere. Let's at least get them on the road home."
Roger stared at the fallen Scorpion one more time and agreed. It was the least they could do.
Evita, though she had been through plenty of battles, and the aftermath as well, but the sheer amount of bodies, and the mutilated state of the remains shocked even her. But it took only a few moments to focus on why she was here. She pulled body after body out from the piles that showed where the front line once was. Her search became more frantic as her target stayed hidden from her view. Body after body, none of them looking as young or having blonde hair. So many mangled bodies, and all not the right one. Her breathing was becoming more and more panicked with every moment, trying to fight the knot in her stomach. She dug another red and blue coated corpse and-
She froze, looking down at one on the bottom. He was cut terribly, but the frame, the hair…
"No, please, Emperor above, why?"
She pulled the body away and grasped it, tears streaming down her face. She should have stopped him, or had been at his side. She prayed to the Emperor for his protection, and it was all for naught. Her grief turned to rage, at the rebels, at Roger, and even… the Emperor himself. Why did he torture her like this? What had she done? What made him believe such a punishment was what she deserved? For the first time in her life of faith and regimentation, she had a crisis of faith, having done everything right and been seemingly punished. Was it because she had feelings for him? Because she cared about someone other than her sisters? Or her heart had let another man other than the Emperor? What did she do to deserve this?
"Parky," she sobbed, his face a wreck of blood and muscle.
He had died terribly, his body almost unrecognizable. And now he was one of the uncounted dead on field, only remembered because she had found him. She rocked back and forth, cradling what was left of him as she lost control of herself. It was supposed to be the greatest day for Anglerre and the Imperium, but she was numb from the sheer devastation.
"Parky," she mumbled again. "I wish I could have told you that I-"
The words caught in her throat, not from fear as before, but by the sheer misery that clouded her thoughts.
"I lo-"
"Eve?"
She stopped and turned to face the new voice from behind her.
"P-Parky?" she asked shakily, almost in disbelief.
"Hi. Are you ok? My head hurts, my arm feels like it's about to fall off, and I want to go to bed. Why are you hugging a dead guy? Did you know him? I'm sorry he didn't make it."
Evita dropped the corpse and stood, a towering figure with her massive armor adding to her already noticeably large frame. Her hands trembled as she touched his face, covered with dirt and blood, his golden hair stuck together and wet as a mop in a rainstorm.
"Parky," she whispered.
"Are-are you alright Eve? You're acting weird."
Instead of answering, she got down on her knees and hugged him, pulling tight as she could, closing her eyes.
"I thought you were… I- you're ok. That's all that matters," she said through shuddering breaths.
"Eve," he said softly.
"I almost lost you, and I couldn't handle that. Promise me you won't go and get yourself killed if you can, please. Promise me."
"Eve, I can't-"
"I know, it's a Guardsmans lot to fight and die, but I can get you a position in the Church! Something behind the lines, far away from the fighting! And you won't have to deal with Xenos, heretics, or any of that! I promise you, you'll be happier there."
"No, Eve, I can't breathe, your armor's crushing me!"
Her eyes shot open before she let go, as Parky stumbled back, grabbing at his ribs and panting heavily.
"T-thanks."
"My apologies."
"It's alright. I was trying to get back to Roger and I found you there. Why were you calling out my name? Were you looking for me?"
Evita was about to correct him, but quickly stopped, smiled, and tried to cover her tracks.
"Y-yes, I was looking for you. I thought that he would have some information, but he passed before I could get anything out of him. May his soul join the Emperor's side."
Parky nodded before bowing his head and praying, making the sign of the Aquila with his hands. Having finished giving respect to the dead, he looked back at her.
"What were you about to say to him?"
"Pardon?"
"You were about to tell him something like "I lo-", and then I cut you off. How'd you know him?"
Evita's smile vanished and she started spluttering in a slight panic.
"E-Emperors benediction for the fallen, even the dead deserve it. I was merely asking if he saw you, t-that's all!"
"Oh! I'm sorry I interrupted. That's you Eve, working even in a place like this!"
Evita nodded and wiped a few beads of sweat trickling down her forehead.
"Roger and the rest of your squad is over there. Shall we join them?"
"They're alive? Let's go find them!"
He rushed off to find his old squad, Evita watching him. So full of life, so young. She blinked and looked down at the corpse she believed was his. Out of a sense of duty, she gave the mangled remains a final blessing before finding Roger. She would apologize to him eventually, but her mind was focused on other things.
XXXXXX
Kallen and Moire waited nervously on the edge of the forest that was the right edge of the Imperial army that, despite the odds and disadvantages, won a remarkable victory over the rebel army of Haikk. But as dusk fell and the victorious humans camped or rested after a long day of vicious fighting, the Eldar were on alert.
"I expect we are to be removed from any sort of command and returned to our shrines," Kallen said grimly.
"I would complain about the inequity of us being punished for our disloyal brothers and sisters foolish sacrifice, but such is the burden of command. I pray you are a competent maintainer and cleaner as I am."
"Fate is not fair. Or honest, as I have learned."
"Yes, and- she approaches."
The two watched as the sleek armor of Council Guardians, surrounding a figure bearing a staff, closed in.
"Our warriors are now five less their number," Alwyn said grimly. "Such is the way of warriors to fall in battle, but I must ask: why was their blood allowed to be shed in defense of humanity and not their kin?"
Moire and Kallen looked to one another, the Avenger taking the initiative to answer.
"They disobeyed our orders and Rogers' wishes. He faced defeat, and they could not accept that they had to stand down and walk away."
Alwyn stared at her for a few moments and nodded slowly.
"I see. And your warriors as well, Kallen?"
"Yes, noble Farseer."
"The Totanmaryad has cache among our kind," a Councilor said. "How intriguing."
"Were their soulstones recovered safely?"
"Yes Farseer," Moire said with a twinge of sadness.
She lifted five glowing stones and the necklace that held them to one's flesh. All had a different color, and all were what remained of some of the finest that Ducaish could provide. Alwyn took them, holding them in her hand. She could not find which warrior was which in those precious stones, but they were warriors all, that was certain. She could feel their anger, their fury, their willingness to give all for their Craftworld. She handed them off to a Councilor, who placed them in a solid, ornate box. She briefly paused, her mind suddenly filled with questions, chief among them that… two of them did not feel like the others. She banished the thought and turned back to the two Leopards.
"And their bodies?"
"Under protection and ready for retrieval."
"I wish to see them."
"Very well."
Moving through the forest with equal speed and grace, they exited out into the valley, Alwyn's lip curling as the stench of blood and flesh filled her nostrils. A few of her Councilors gagged, and one looked on the verge of losing the meal he enjoyed earlier. The entourage followed the Scorpion and Avenger, seeing the carnage that man could inflict on themselves. The amount of bodies was staggering, even for some of the Councilors, who had seen countless battles and skirmishes.
"The Imperials took a total of seven hundred casualties, at least as far as the number is as of now." Kallen explained. "It will grow or lessen as missing men are found dead or alive. This wing of the army was the hardest hit and hardest fought, I believe the regiment Roger aided have a quarter of their men dead, the same amount wounded."
"Very brave," Alwyn said calmly.
"They were, Farseer, I assure you," Moire finished. "There's Roger."
A single figure was standing ahead of them, and moved closer.
"Farseer Alwyn. I apologize for having to meet you again in these circumstances."
"I am in agreement, but I must say, your survival is quite agreeable."
"Thank you," he said, walking along with her. "The Scorpions were Cael and Rhis, from the Avengers, Dewyn, Anylrch, and Morgyn."
"Oh dear," Alwyn said sadly. "The last two from the same family. Ghilayne, when we return to the Craftworld, send members of the Path of Grief to House Hirouach immediately. To lose one scion is a terrible thing, but two…"
She shook her head.
"Yes Farseer."
"I asked them to not get involved, yet they refused me."
"I believe they thought your survival was worth their sacrifice. An honor not given to many of your kind, Roger Wessyng."
"I know, but-"
Alwyn stopped, looking at the new figures ahead of her. One struck her more than any other, tall, and bearing a powersword, its blade in the ground.
"He wanted to be here when you arrived," Roger said quietly.
Prince Edmunds surcoat gently flowed with the slight breeze, his hands on top of the Claw of Gasceaux, his face one of quiet reflection. At his feet were three bodies in Eldari armor, laid out respectfully, seemingly at peace. His massive horse was behind him, a knight of his bodyguard holding the reigns and eyeing the Eldar with suspicion, prepared for an attack. She quietly left her own bodyguard and moved to the Princes side. She could feel the emotions roiling in him: pride in his victory, grief at its cost, and what seemed to be attempts to understand why the three below him had sacrificed themselves for a cause not their own.
"They saved my army," he said quietly. "They held off the attack on the right long enough that Diazon could reform and stand firm."
"They are the finest we can offer in numbers. They lived to fight and die."
"For their Craftworld. Not some human squabble."
"I think it has less to do with you and more with him," she whispered, not needing to point out who she spoke of.
"They deserved a better fight, a better death, one that truly mattered."
"Do you not accept our help?"
Edmund sighed and tapped his fingers on the Claw.
"I do, and I am grateful for it, but a man, or Eldar, should die for a cause of their own, that is worthy."
"I agree, but fate made them act this way. Roger tried to stop them to little effect, I doubt you would have done much better."
"What happens to them? When you take them back to Ducaish?"
"Their bodies are ritually burned, the ashes kept as a keepsake in their memory. Their souls will rejoin their ancestors and may be called to fight again one day."
"At least they will find peace."
They stared at the bodies a little longer, but Alwyns thoughts were hidden behind her placid face, most pressingly, that there were two bodies missing, both Avengers. She felt Roger approach and request her attention.
"I couldn't find Anylrch or Morgyn. We have searched this entire area, Edmund and his knights helped us look, but we have no idea where they are."
"But their soulstones were recovered?"
"We found them on Dewyn."
More questions than answers, Alwyn thought. She motioned her hands to begin their removal from this field of death. A Councilor pulled out a small object, which unfolded and began to hover, its anti-grav capabilities allowing it to move to the bodies with ease. Soon, one by one, the bodies were lifted carefully and placed on what could be described as an advanced cart, the three stacked in a way that was respectful, but purposeful. Satisfied with their work, the two slowly moved the bodies away back into the forest they came from. Alwyn stayed next to Edmund, who watched with quiet respect.
"I must congratulate yourself on your victory Edmund. It will be one remembered by your people for generations."
"Thank you Farseer. But it will not give respect to those who saved it, I'm afraid."
"Such is the way of the Eldar. Never remembered, always changing fate. Will you return to your headquarters?"
"I'll let the men rest for the night, and most of tomorrow. We have three days march ahead of us."
"Then I will contact you again when you are once again at the Cathedral."
"Very well. Safe travels Alwyn."
"Congratulations once again."
Alwyn walked off from Edmund, stopping at Roger.
"You look tired. You should get some rest."
"Yes Farseer. Thank you."
"My daughter says you fought quite well today. You do your homeworld proud. But I can sense you are at your limit, so as I said, rest."
"Of course."
The Eldar moved away silently with their dead, Edmund and Roger watching them leave. Kallen and Moire motioned farewells to the latter, moving with their kin. The serjeant looked up to the Prince, in expectation of further orders.
"Your Highness?"
"You can march home with us, or you can get back to the Cathedral however you got here. As long as you're there when I get back, that's all I care about."
"Yes Your Highness."
The Prince looked at the battlefield one more time and frowned. They had already started burying and recovering their dead, but would leave the enemy for the birds. A fitting last insult for the massive army he humbled.
"Damn fine work Wessyng. Damn fine."
Roger bowed his head as the Prince mounted Boucicault and rode back to his position on the hill.
XXXXXX
As night fell, fire light flickered like stars all around the battlefield. Most Guardsmen were too tired and simply slept where they lay, some trying to eat or not think about what had just happened. Roger and his squad were on the edge of the forest on the right, Davie and Hawke already sleeping, Bob inspecting a cut Parky got during the tail end of the fight, Eve helping him. Roger wanted to say something, but his legs were wobbly from standing and fighting almost all day. His arm was already screaming at him, and a pill issued by Bob was the only thing he had to fight what he knew would be agonizing pain the next morning. He was about to lay down and finally get some sleep before he checked his men, and woman, one more time. He was utterly exhausted, mentally and physically. He took off his helmet and sword belt, feeling the bruise where it was strapped to him so tightly already about to cause issues.
"Dammit," he grunted.
He stuck his arm out to move a few leaves when something grabbed it and pulled him into the foliage.
"Son of a bitch!" he hissed, ready to yell out for help.
He had worried that more than a few survivors of the rebel army were waiting in the trees, and now he was going to die from his own incompetence.
"I did not mean to hurt you," a familiar voice said.
"Thrones sake Anya, you scared the hell out of me!"
"Apologies. I wanted you to be satisfied your friends were safe before I took you away."
"And where are you taking me?"
She didn't answer, pulling him deeper into the forest. After a minute or two, she stopped and turned to show him a location deep in the trees, but witha clearing that revealed the sky and what was the battlefield.
"Nice location."
"I thought the same."
She undid her cloak and sat down, pressing her back against a well place tree, patting the grass next to her.
"Guess I can't refuse," he said with a laugh.
"No, you can not."
He moved closer to her, but his legs wobbled and gave out entirely, spent from the days exertions. He started to fall face first into her chestplate, saved inches from smashing his teeth in on her armor by placing his arms on either side of her, and a bit of help from her hands.
"Dammit."
"Are you all right?"
He looked up into her blue eyes, and couldn't hide a smile.
"Legs gave out. Happens."
They stared at each other for a few moments before Roger turned head slightly in a bit of embarrassment before moving further up and closer until they were eye to eye.
"Your mother told me you complimented my skills."
"I did."
"Thanks."
"Roger… say it again."
"What?"
"Before you went off to fight."
"D-did you not hear me?"
"I did, I just wanted to… hear you say it again."
Roger looked down and took a deep breath before looking back at her.
"I love you, Anya," he said quietly.
He felt her hand wrap around his head, pulling his lips to hers. They stayed like that for a minute before breaking off.
"I love you too, Roger," she said, a hint of embarrassment in her voice as she placed a hand on his cheek.
He nodded, his eye lids sinking as what little strength he had finally gave out. He was laying on top of her, his head between the bulbs on her chestplate and her chin. Trying not to wake him, she grabbed her cloak and wrapped it over the both of them before kissing the top of his head. She even smiled as she looked out the clearing into the field.
On the blood-soaked fields near Acra, at least one being was very, very happy.
Hi there! Hope you've been enjoying the story so far. I'm planning on this being Part One of a series, and will finish it up in a few more chapters. I initially wanted to take a break after that, but the writer in me has held me hostage. I fell into the Halo rabbit hole yet again, and I've decided to write something in that universe while I get back into 40k again. The story's called In a Big Country, and if you like Halo, my writing style, or just want something else to read, you can find it here: /14374905/1/In-a-Big-Country
At least as long as it works, I've been having issues with it saying the story is unavailable. If it doesn't work over there, it's over on Ao3 here:/works/56921590/
Of course, I need to finish this first, so don't worry, I'm not abandoning this to the wind and moving on. I hope I can keep the standard I've expected from myself writing this even at the finish line. Now that's out of the way, until next time!