After Ivan and Pyotr finished breakfast, the latter departed to reunite with his unit while the former prepared to keep an eye on the unconscious Princess. However, instead of getting to do that, his commanders walked in just as he was about to leave and roped him into their morning exercises, soon joined by Antonov once he came down. But, rather than be upset by the change, Ivan relished spending time with his men now that he was starting to feel a bit like himself again since the events at Bylowa weren't so vivid in his mind. Yet even though it had already been over three weeks since that time, the images, sounds, and smells were impossible to erase. Yes, he had partaken in battle only a day ago. Yet, even that wasn't as memorable, save Azula's sudden illness, though perhaps it was due to it being the enemy that had perished rather than anyone he knew and loved. "Ivan, are you alright?" Pavel asked from his side once he finished chewing his kasha. Ivan shook his head before leaning back, his lunch untouched, while Antonov and the new Ensign he'd not met yet continued eating since the last one perished at Bylowa before he even got to know him. But now that Ivan had a moment, the Grand Duke noted the boy looked very young, at least Azula's or his age and unlike Antonov, he seemed shy and introverted as he quietly ate his food, his hand quivering with every bite, his eyes hidden behind the visor of his cap.
From the opposite side of the small wooden table, Antonov gave him a concerned expression. "You really ought to eat, Grand Duke. After this, the Colonel said we're going into Ba Sing Se."
Ivan sighed and wordlessly ate his kasha. Until, at last, a positive topic came to mind. "Pasha, how is your family?"
The man's eyes lit up as a slight grin appeared beneath his mustache. "Last I heard, they were doing well. However, I haven't received any word since coming here," he stated, his smile fading before it returned with vigour. "But before we left, I did get a letter from Irina saying that she had a surprise for me when I saw her again. But, I suppose I shouldn't be sharing such things with you two."
Both young men nodded. "Well, that seems like that would be between you and her," Ivan replied before returning to his meal.
The old soldier smiled. "Indeed," he stated. "How is the Princess?"
Ivan sighed deeply. "Not great, I'm afraid. She's doing better, but she's still unconscious."
"Yeah," Antonov cleared his throat and turned to Ivan. "So, what's the city like?"
Grateful for the distraction, Ivan rubbed his chin as several enlisted gathered around. "It's massive but overcrowded, at least inside. I didn't see that many civilians, but most probably made their way further into the city before we breached the secondary walls," he explained. "But I wasn't there long enough to get more information."
The other men nodded and began talking excitedly amongst themselves. "But Sir, why weren't you with us for pre-breastfast drills?" a young private asked, one of the newer faces, as Ivan recalled.
Ivan snorted. "I'm afraid that's classified," he replied. "Suffice it to say my father required my presence." The man nodded, and the other enlisted men returned to their seats. "Now, Antonov, I don't believe I've ever had the chance to get to know you."
Not expecting the turn in the conversation and recalling the truth of that statement, Sergei's eyes widened. "You're right, Grand Duke," he said before a smirk came to his features. "But I can say the same about you." He said, pointing a finger.
Ivan took a moment to think about it before he shrugged. "I guess that's true," he replied. "You first. I already have your name, and you told me some details concerning your actions at Bylowa. So, let's go from there."
Antonov nodded. "Very well. Would you like me to work my way backwards, or would it be better to start before the war?"
Ivan rubbed his chin in thought. Despite it only beginning several months ago, Ivan couldn't believe how much he'd changed in that time. So, the Grand Duke opted to see where his comrade stood on the matter. Besides, he wanted to take a moment to not think about the war. "Why don't you tell me a little about your family? Your last name doesn't ring a bell."
Antonov nodded, a wistful smile adorning his features. "I suppose it wouldn't. Since my family hails from Ocheretnakova."
Ivan put a hand to his chin. "Hm, I've never been there. What's it like?" he asked. As he recalled from his geography courses, the region bordered the Oskalian Desert between Ruskia and Northern Pogyin. At first, it developed naturally as a hub along the old Silk Road. But, with the construction of the Oscalian Railway running the length of the country and the discovery of rich diamond deposits, the city expanded rapidly.
"It's similar to here, at least in the summer. But in wintertime, the dunes get covered in snow. As for the city, it's not very big, but it's fairly nice from what I recall." he explained. "My family owns a dacha and a small mine East of the city."
Ivan nodded in understanding. "So your family owns a diamond mine?"
"That we do. But not as big as many industrialists and tycoons who've since moved in," Sergei replied. "It's also fairly old and shallow compared to many new ones. But my Father wants to upgrade it soon to better compete with our rivals."
"That's ironic. My grandfather worked in a mine. But he dug out coal in Novoprokrovsk," Pasha interjected before smiling slightly as the teens turned and listened. "The mine's closed now since one of the tunnels collapsed, and several men died. When Ded passed away, he asked to rest near his friends."
"I'm sorry to hear that. But, thankfully, nothing like that has happened," Sergei replied as the older soldier turned to him.
"I appreciate that," the Sergeant-Major replied with a nod. "Anyway, I think I should go. The other Sergeants are likely getting impatient, and I don't want them to start playing without me," he said before getting up, leaving the young officers to themselves.
"Now, what's your name?" Ivan asked, turning to the youth sitting across from him.
Seeming stunned, the young man looked up, and Ivan felt a slight pain in his chest. His simple brown eyes reminded Ivan of his own when he looked in the mirror the day following his unit's attack on the redoubt. "I-It's A-Alexander, Sir," he replied, his voice raspy and strained, like a duck's after honking too much.
"How long have you been with us?" Ivan asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"S-Since Saturday, Sir. I arrived with the artillery train," he explained. "I just graduated from the academy, and they sent me here once I completed the trail. That's why my voice is like this, Sir."
Immediately, any reserve toward the boy disappeared as Ivan grinned while laughing. "Now I understand! For a moment, I was worried Command had sent a boy with no voice!" he bellowed, much to Antonov's confusion.
"I apologize, Sir. But what's so funny? And what's this about a trail?" Sergei questioned, confused.
Ivan ceased his revelry and turned to his subordinate with narrowed brows. "You're telling me you didn't go through the trail?" he asked, exasperated.
The man shook his head. "No, I've never heard of such a thing," he replied.
"What school did you go to?" Ivan asked with a snort.
"The Oralovski Cadet Academy. Why?" He replied as both of his peers gave him disbelieving looks. "What?"
Ivan shook his head and sighed deeply. "Well, I cannot believe you didn't go through the trail."
Sergei folded his arms. "Will you stop saying it like that? What even is this "trail" anyway," he replied.
"W-Wait, but how are you even here? I-. They told me it was a requirement for joining a Guard's regiment," he said, turning to Ivan, who gave him a look of sympathy.
"It is. But it seems Alexeev didn't bother asking what school you came from," he replied, turning to Sergei, who seemed to recoil from Ivan's intense stare.
"I still have no idea what you're talking about. No one said anything about this trail, and what does this have to do with the school I attended?"
Ivan and Alexander shared a look before Ivan turned to him and shrugged. "I suppose it doesn't matter. Though I admit, I'm a little envious you didn't have to endure it. I guess that favour really-" Ivan stopped as Antonov's expression turned sour.
"What was that?" the Lieutenant asked as he stood up, his tone shifting as he leered over Ivan, leaving Alexander stunned.
"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said-"
"Are you saying I don't deserve to be here, Grand Duke?" the man accused in a whisper.
Ivan shook his head. "Of course not, I was only-"
Sergei shook his head, his frown morphing into a scowl. "You know what? I don't care what you have to say," he said before pulling off his glove and shoving it into Ivan's hand, who looked at it stunned. Antonov leaned back before standing at attention. "Grand Duke Ivan, you have offended my honour as a gentleman. As such, I challenge you to a duel with swords tomorrow at sunset. Whoever scores first blood wins," once he finished, he turned, took his shako, and stormed off, passing confused and concerned comrades as he did.
After Yesterday's chaos, Yin and Than expected today to be similar. Yet, instead of waking up to the sounds of battle as they had multiple times throughout the night to comfort Hope, they awoke to the sound of music and strange voices. Curious, Than rolled out of bed, and Yin saw Hope's eyes were open as she looked down at the newborn in her arms. "Than, what do you see?" she asked as she prepared to feed her child, who was already trying to grab her chest.
As he looked out into the street, he almost couldn't believe his eyes: There were the foreigners, resplendent in their uniforms, playing and singing in the otherwise empty street. He tried to count them, only to quickly lose count as they celebrated in a fashion he had never seen before. "They're singing," he said as he opened the shutters so he could see and hear better. When he did, he realized he wasn't the only one as people up and down the street did the same, all strangely enticed by the odd display.
After finishing his tea, Nikolai decided to see more of the city while the rest of his staff returned to the Bulwark or Boskovsky's headquarters. As he did, under the guard of several hussars, including his son's best friend, who returned after doing as Nikolai had ordered, he eventually reached where the front line stood before the armistice. Before him was a battalion of men huddled around their musicians as they played their guitars and garmons and sang a tune Nikolai was well familiar with:
"On the wide steppe, under Illichan, we made a glorious stand.
The Kazmen fled, O glorious dead, who fell 'neath Oscalian skies."
The slow tune echoed through the otherwise empty streets, quieting even the creatures which descended to consume the corpses lining both sides of the barricade ahead of him. But, as he made his way toward it, he paused as a glimpse of something caught his eye from one of the rooftops. But, when he turned to look at it, there was nothing there. "Is something wrong, Your Imperial Highness?" Pyotr asked.
"And eternal memory to Ivan Levovsky, who led us into the fight!
With only one hundred, we defeated twenty-thousand and sent the Khan on his way."
Putting a hand to his chin, Nikolai turned to the man. "I think I've seen enough for now. Come, let us return to the Headquarters."
"For two thousand, we paid with fifty, but we stood, and they ran away.
And for those who fell, may they be remembered, and their spirits keep watch over the motherland.
And for those who fell, may they be remembered, and their spirits keep watch over the motherland."
Pyotr quickly saluted him and moved himself and Yelena out of the way, allowing Nikolai and Adriel to pass before he fell in behind. "If you say so, Your Imperial Highness," Pyotr replied. "Is there anything else you need from us?"
Nikolai nodded. "Yes," he responded. "Once we reach headquarters, I need someone to ride to our old base and use the telegraph to send a message back to the Stavka. It's urgent I inform them of the situation."
As Atonov headed away from the mess hall, he was blocked by a stern-looking Alexeev. "And where do you think you're going?" The Colonel asked.
Suddenly feeling much less confident, Antonov slowly backed away before the older man put a hand on his shoulder and turned him about before heading out the door with the young man by his side. Once outside the mess hall, the two officers walked without a word uttered until they arrived at his office. Antonov entered first, finding the room sparsely decorated, with only a bed, table, and a small closet with the Regimental colours standing against the back wall on metal hooks which appeared hammered in recently. "Leave us," the Colonel told the two men standing outside before he entered. "Have a seat, Lieutenant," Antonov nodded and did as requested before Alexeev sat across from him. "Now, with all due respect, Sergei Ivanovich, what in the Lord's name were you thinking!?" he spat.
The youth shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about," the Lieutenant replied, trying to keep his composure in the face of his enraged superior.
"Don't play smart with me, boy. I saw what happened with the Grand Duke. Or did my eyes deceive me?" He asked before sighing. "I promised your Father to keep you out of trouble. You realize I could have your court marshalled for this?"
Antonov visibly deflated, his eyes downcast. "I understand, Sir."
Alexeev shook his head. "I don't quite think that you do," he replied before standing up, heading to the cabinet and pulling out one of the drawers. After a few tense moments, he pulled out a paper record and returned to the table. "This," he stated as he placed it on the table, and Antonov picked it up.
As he read, his eyes widened, and his face paled before he dropped it. "W-Where did you-"
"Did you seriously believe that your previous Colonel wouldn't have kept a full record of your activities, Lieutenant?" Alexeev asked with a cocked brow.
"I-I thought those were secret! It was between me and-"
The Colonel shook his head. "Do you feel that you have something to prove, Sasha?"
Antonov paused for a moment, shocked by his question. "W-What?"
Alexeev sighed deeply, his earlier edge disappearing. "In all your contests of honour, it lists that you were the offended party in every single one. So, I ask, do you have something to prove?"
Antonov felt pinged but quickly tried to deflect. "I'm afraid I don't follow-"
"Oh, I think you do. I've spoken enough with your Father to know, and while I express regret for your situation, does that justify your actions?"
Antonov shook his head. "I honestly don't even know what you owed my Father, but I can tell you that I would have challenged the Grand Duke regardless."
Avgustin seemed puzzled by his response, at least initially. But, after thinking about it, his eyes lit up with realization. "Now it makes sense. You're a duelist, aren't you?" Antonov smiled guiltily. "So, a man after my own heart, then?"
Sergei's eyes widened, his mouth agape. "W-Wha-"
The Colonel gave a mild chortle. "Ah, that brings me back. I never thought I would see another like me, let alone in this generation," he replied before growing stern again. "That said, this duel is still very much illegal. So what are the terms you set?"
"I- Are you saying you're letting this go ahead?" Antonov asked.
"I said nothing of the sort," he replied, giving him a knowing look. "I am merely asking what the terms of the duel were."
"Oh, I see," the Lieutenant nodded. "Well, in that case, it was a bout with swords. Whoever bleeds first loses," he explained.
"Very good. Now, considering your record, and though I know it's unlikely, don't hurt Ivan too badly. I might be willing to let it slide, just this once, but I know Nikolai. He would end your career faster than you could say: "I'm sorry," the Colonel began. "However, before you try anything, I wish to inspect your skills personally, and I expect to see you before we leave for Ba Sing Se."
Antonov again nodded, this time in gratitude. "Thank you, Sir. Though I apologize for the inconvenience," he said as both men stood up, and he nodded to him before walking past and leaving, only to find someone standing in his way.
"So that's what all the scratches on your blade were from?" Mai asked as Antonov nearly froze, and Avgustin shot around to watch the interaction.
"I-I-" He stopped when Mai leaned in close enough that he could feel her breath on his ear.
"I understand. Just get me before you leave," Mai whispered her voice monotone as always. Then she leaned back, pecked him on the cheek, and departed in the direction of her room, leaving him stunned.
After being released earlier that morning, Jet had ordered his subordinates as he tied up his affairs in the city. First, he'd met with the Dai Li-appointed Chief Quartermaster and obtained the equipment and provisions he would need for the coming campaign, and received guarantees that his men would receive everything before they departed. As for when that would be, he wasn't yet aware, but he figured it would be in the coming days before the Ruskians could take control of the entire city. After all, while they expected the Ruskians to march into the inner ring tomorrow, it would still take time for them to secure the middle and outer ring. But, before they could, Jet hoped he and his forces would have already begun moving West, shadowing the army on their march to their bases on the Western Coast in preparation for the invasion planned on the Day of Black Sun. In the meantime, he wished to gather as many supplies, weapons, and allies as possible, so as soon as his meeting concluded, he departed back to the Middle Ring using the rail network. Once he arrived, he began searching for his friends. But, after many hours trying and failing to locate them, the local Dai Li eventually helped him find them. As it turned out, they, like many refugees fleeing the onslaught in the Lower Ring, had ended up in the station where he first arrived, meaning he had wasted most of the day trying and failing to locate them. "Hey guys!" he shouted while walking up to the duo.
"Jet? Jet, is that you?" Smellerbee answered once she locked eyes with him.
"Yeah, it's me- Oof!" he paused as she ran up and embraced him, and the short tomboy began crying.
"I thought we lost you!" she said as Longshot approached, the silent archer smiling slightly before he also joined the embrace.
"Well, I'm here now," he replied as the other two teens let him go.
"Were you released?" Smellerbee asked, wiping the tears from her eyes, her voice returning to the usual gruff tone she used to sound more intimidating.
"Yeah, they did," he replied. "So, what have you two been doing while I was gone?"
Longshot seemed concerned, but he didn't say anything, allowing the puffy-haired brunette to answer. "Not much, aside from trying to figure out where you were. You really had us worried."
Jet waved her off. "Well, you have nothing to worry about, at least concerning me. Now, what do you know about the foreigners?"
Both of them gave him skeptical looks. "Uh, what foreigners? You mean the old man and that kid you thought were Firebenders?"
Jet shook his head. "No, not that. I mean, the people who broke through the walls and breached the city, the reason you're here?"
The teens appeared even more confused. "I don't know what you're talking about," Smellerbee answered.
Jet sighed. "You know what? We don't have time for this. The Head of the Dai Li plans to surrender the city tomorrow, and he has given us an important mission."
Smellerbee's expression shifted from confused to frightened in an instant. "Y-You spoke with the head of the Dai Li?"
Jet nodded. "Yeah, I did," he began before placing his hands on their shoulders. "Look, guys. The Earth Kingdom needs the Freedom fighters now more than ever. He has already promised us everything we could need, but more than weapons or supplies, I need people I can count on. I know I promised to swear off that life. But now the war has come to us again. So, will you help me?"
Both seemed to think about it before they reciprocated. "We're with you to the end, Jet," Smellerbee replied as the group separated. "So, what's the plan?"
Before the unit was due to move out, Alexeev chose a spot he felt was concealed enough away from the fort and waited for Antonov, who arrived shortly after. "So, you are intent on facing me, hm?"
"Indeed, Sir. Now, how should we do this?" He asked, folding his arms.
In response, Alexeev smirked. "This should last no more than fifteen seconds from the first strike. If I cut you in that time, I'll call it off before you embarrass yourself. If you succeed in defending yourself or land a hit, I will let it go on. Understood?"
The younger man nodded, and both drew their spadroons, saluted each other, and then prepared, each one trying to get a bead on the other before the inevitable first clash. Alexeev, while likely more experienced, was slightly shorter than Antonov, with both standing about 5'11". Their blades were also incredibly similar in make, tailored toward practicality over aesthetics. Then, suddenly and without warning, after positioning his sword high with the tip angled downward, covering his body, Antonov made his move. He feinted low, with an upward swing turning into a downward thrust, forcing Alexeev back as he batted the blade away with his own before lunging forward in a thrust. Antonov quickly stepped back, only for Alexeev to use the opportunity to steady himself before continuing his assault, his attacks a dithering array of cuts, thrusts, and feints, giving Antonov only enough time to defend and no chances to counter-attack, save the few moments he saw an opening and forced the Colonel back, giving him milliseconds to recover before reengaging. So, back and forth they went, neither side landing a hit as both would move out of the way or deflect their opponent's blade at the last moment. Antonov's youth and vigour certainly allowed him to avoid most of Alexeev's attacks without committing his blade to pure defence, but even still, the savvy Colonel's experience showed. He never allowed himself to enter a vulnerable position without an immediate counter. Every time he came close, Antonov would try to hit him, only for Alexeev to do things the teen didn't expect, such as change hands to attack angles he wasn't used to defending against, but still, he held his guard by the skin of his teeth.
Finally, Alexeev leaned back a final time and raised his blade to deflect Antonov's final blow. "Enough!" he shouted, with the Lieutenant nodding and lowering his blade before both again saluted and stowed their weapons. "Very good," he said, taking a moment to breathe.
"T-Thank you, Sir," he replied, his voice ragged as sweat poured down his brow in beads, and he had to take off his cap to cool his head. "Y-You are my first defeat."
The man nodded and smiled. "And I am honoured to have faced such a gifted adversary. I think you might be one of, if not the best, duelists I've ever seen at your age. Anyway, you may go. It's going to be a long march on foot anyways."
Antonov quickly readorned his cap, and both men exchanged salutes before the younger man departed for his quarters. However, upon rounding the corner, he found Mai resting against the door, a knife idly spinning in her hand. "That's gotta be some of the best swordplay I've seen in a while."
Antonov's eyes widened in shock. "Ah! How do you keep doing that!?"
Mai stowed her knife and smirked. "Oh, a woman has her ways," she told him, to which he cocked a brow. "Anyway, that was pretty interesting. Kind of reminds me of Jian duelling, but I've never seen stances like those before."
Antonov smiled. "Perhaps you wish to see a demonstration?" Mai nodded, and he gestured for her to follow him as he walked out of the fortress, passing Alexeev on his way to the stables to fetch his mount.
Upon returning to the Bulwark, Nikolai requested for Shostakovich. "Yes, Your Imperial Highness?" he asked once he arrived.
The Grand Duke nodded. "Yes. Where are the wanted posters the Princess gave us?"
The Major thought for a moment before nodding. "Most of them are back at the old Headquarters, but we have a few with us. Why? Did you want us to start looking for the wanted individuals now?"
Nikolai shook his head. "No, not that. I wanted to check something. May I have them?"
His aide saluted and went upstairs. Not long after, he returned holding a small box in hand. "Here they are, Grand Duke," he said as he placed them on the table. "Will that be all?"
Nikolai nodded and waved him off before opening the box and looking through the contents. There weren't as many as he thought, with only eight: A young bald boy with grey eyes and blue tattoos in the form of arrows, a scrawny teenage boy roughly Ivan's age, a young girl with raven hair and cloudy eyes indicating blindness, another teenager, this one with amber eyes and- "Wait a moment," he paused. Looking closer, Nikolai recognized the boy's massive burn scar, the very same as the boy from the teashop, only on the poster, it showed him adorned in armour similar to Fire Nation soldiers, if a bit more decorated. Next, he saw the same girl, wearing the exact clothes she had in the poster, whom he recognized as his waitress. Feeling highly confused, he opened the second last one to find none other than Mister Mushi himself, adorned in fairly plain Fire Nation armour, at least so far as he could tell. "What in the blazes is this?" he asked, a hand to his forehead as he tried to comprehend that he had taken tea with people wanted by the Fire Nation.
However long she had been in this state, Azula hated every second of it. Time and time again, she would relive old memories or completely fabricated ones. The voices and images wouldn't stop until they all blurred together in one swirling mass of sound and colour from which there was no respite. Nothing made sense anymore, save one constant: That being the void, where Azula was now. Here, there was no sound nor colour save the clothes she wore and her bending, which was much fainter than usual. But, despite the silence and darkness, she felt comfortable in this place. Safe even. Yet, something was missing, something which nagged at her insides. But what that was, she had no idea. So, she slumped down and began idly playing with her fire, a habit she had developed soon after discovering her abilities. Perhaps she should have been practicing, but for whatever reason, her old childhood pastime brought her comfort where little else could.
"Tell me, child, do you wish to stay here?" She heard a voice faintly ask.
Shooting up from her spot, she spun around, trying to find the voice's origin. "Who's there!?" she shouted, her hands engulfed in flame.
"There is nothing to fear, child. Now, answer my question: Do you wish to remain here?"
Though she tried to find the voice's origin, she found that, with the echo and the pitch-black darkness, she could not. "Well, if you want my honest answer, no. I don't. Now get me out of here!"
"In that case, you must remove the darkness yourself or allow another to do it for you."
Azula felt herself getting angry. "But my flames do nothing against it! How can I get rid of it, and if I can't, how would someone else help?!"
"There are many things that we cannot do, but there is one who can do all things. All you have to do is ask, and it shall be given." The raven-haired girl was puzzled by this. "Ask, and it shall be given." Who was she supposed to ask? "Do not fret, child. If you ask in the name of the Lord, anything is possible."
Azula thought for a moment, recalling both Ivan and his Father speaking about this Lord, who reminded her so clearly of Agni. So, thinking she had nothing better to do, she set herself as she would when praying at a Fire Temple and began to speak.
"Look, I don't know who or what you are. But if you can get me out of this hell, I would be most grateful. Therefore, I de-"
She paused for a moment. If this was indeed the Ruskian God or one of his servants speaking to her, then she supposed she would need to do as they did, which meant being humble, at least to a degree. Besides, it wasn't as though anyone was around to judge her for doing so, even though she knew Father would see it as a weakness. But he didn't have to know.
"-I ask that you help me get out of here, O great Lord."
She waited, but nothing happened until-
Azula's eyes shot open, her breathing erratic, her mind confused. When she looked around once her vision recovered from her severe feeling of vertigo, she caught the retreating form of a man in long black robes as he exited her room. "Wha-?" was all she had the strength to say before curling up on her side and going to sleep.
"Hey, guys, has anyone heard from Sergeant Han yet? He and his guys were supposed to be back from patrol hours ago," the Jager troop commander bellowed as he marched up to the resting forms of his men wrapped in their greatcoats.
The young Jagers awoke and turned to their commander and shook their heads. "No, Sir. They must have gotten lost," one replied.
"Yeah. We all know how many time's he and his guys get themselves into trouble," another chimed.
"Can't we search for them in the morning, Sir?"
The older man's eyes twitched. "I don't care about your excuises. If something happened to them, we must know! And since you three lazy bouts think you know them so well, then I volenteer you three to go find out!" he said before turning to the Sergeants and leaving, knowing they would get them up and ready. "You had better not come back until you give me a difinitive answer!" he said before marching into his own tent. "Brother, you had better be safe," he muttered before saying a quick prayer and going to sleep. Hopefully they would return before morning, and it would be as his men had stated. Surely he'd just gotten lost.
Welp everyone, here it is, the 2nd last chapter before we draw the second act to a close! Tune in next time for depression as hardened steel meets plot armour for the second time in this tale.