Holden opened his eyes to find himself in a small, dark room. A single window let in sunlight that illuminated the room enough for him to see. A door stood on the opposite side of the room, with a writing station next to it. Looking down at himself, Holden pulled off the silk sheets covering his body. He was absent of everything spare his smallclothes, exposing new scars adorning his core and forearm.
It took a moment for everything to catch up to him; Rnyrt, the elves, Honler, Marius. Getting out of bed, he moved towards the door. What happened? Why was he in a bed? Where was he? Just as Holden reached for the door, it swung open. A man in white robes stood in the door frame, and Yerryn right behind him.
“His condition upon return from Rnyrt was a hair from death, it’s a blessing that--” The man paused, staring at Holden for a moment. “So, you’re awake.”
“I am,” Holden replied. And, while he did not recognize it at first, his body was sore, and the scars throbbed with pain. “What happened?”
“We were hoping you would tell us,” said Yerryn, her arms folded across her chest. Her exhaustion was evident, rendering her indifferent in emotion. “Marius came here a couple of weeks ago, carrying you to my doorstep. He refused to speak a word of what happened.”
“And you were a mess,” the man continued. “Wrapped in bloody bandages, with a fever as well!” He extended his hand towards Holden. “My apologies, where are my manners? I am Gisheld, a volunteer doctor for the On’hinian Army.
“Holden.” Holden shook Gisheld’s hand, and looked at Yerryn. “What of Honler? Is he alright?”
“He was relieved of his active duty, and was sent to the capital for advanced healing.” Yerryn tapped Gisheld’s shoulder, whom bowed his head and left the room. She closed the door behind her, as she gave Holden a demon’s stare. “Talk.”
“I was sent out on my own to find the Rnyrtian capital,” Holden explained. “At the same time, Honler took a group of Sea Tigers and went to investigate an Aradian vessel beached not far from our camp. I believe they were ambushed by the Aradians and captured.” He paused, deciding on whether or not to talk of Leucis, and the things that happened that night. If Marius opted to not say a word of it, then so would he. “I am unsure of what happened, but they twisted his mind by the time I came to save him.”
“You went alone?”
Holden nodded. “The expeditionary forces were off taking the capital. It was foolish, but I could not sit idle while every second was a roulette for his life.”
“Beyond foolish.” Yerryn turned and opened the door. “I’ll have your uniform sent up soon. When you are ready, I will train you. You’re going to be very busy, after your performance in the Rnyrtian annex.”
“Pardon?”
“Colonel Marius sent his commendation for outstanding service and valor to His Majesty. And, you’ve caught the eye of the King’s Generals. While you’re not being paraded in the streets, they sent a letter of promotion to your name. Congratulations, Sergeant Alnharte.”
While he would have been excited over such news, Yerryn’s tone was soaked with scorn. “Yerryn, you have to believe me, I did everything to the best of my ability to save him.”
“That’s why I’m training you, Holden. Because, your best is not good enough.”
***
It was midday by the time Holden stepped onto the busy streets of Perona. He ran his fingers over the new attire that adorned his body. Leather padding was concealed under a layer of hempen clothing. Over that, he wore a coat to protect against the cold bite of the Frost. The streets were blanketed in white, as snow glistened under the sunlight.
“Can we help you, Sergeant?” one of the guards stationed outside Yerryn’s office asked.
“No,” replied Holden, “I was just taking in the scenery is all.” He moved through the crowds on the streets, resting a hand on the pommel of his blade. While he left his bow behind, it was rarely ever inconvenient to remain armed. Reaching the gate to the mainland, he approached the guards at the checkpoint.
“I’ll be damned,” one of them said, “it’s Alnharte!” He waved to Holden. “I heard about how you’re the one who brought Rnyrt to its knees.”
Taken back by such an outrageous claim, Holden shook his head. “I am but a single man, not the army who stormed the capital.”
“Spoken like a true hero!” The guard chuckled, before waving him through. “Go on, Sergeant. There’s no need to waste your time on the logging.” He grinned at Holden, and bowed his head. “May Hino watch over you.”
“Thank you,” Holden said. Though he could not deny that the whole scene filled him with pride, he also felt it was ill-obtained. He did not bring Rnyrt to its knees. It was the work of Marius, and the Sea Tigers. He would have to find Marius, later, to sort things out.
There was a sea of pure, endless white surrounding him, as he traveled along the main route. There was a silence during the Frost, that was undeniably sweet. It was natural, unlike the silence when a predator is near, or the silence found in the dead of night, or where the divine fear to tread. As a gust of cold air blew past Holden, he tightened the coat around himself.
The sun began its descent towards the horizon by the time he made it to Saul’s home. The trees were stripped bare of their vibrant leaves, and it made finding the cabin quite easy. The last time he was here, he knew little of the life Saul let. He simply lacked the exposure to understand the burden a soldier had to carry.
Approaching the cabin’s door, Holden knocked firmly. He looked about his surroundings once more, only to realize something strange. There were no other tracks around the cabin; meaning nobody left or entered in some time. As chords of curiosity and wariness were struck in his mind, Holden tested the door’s handle. Without resistance, the door swung open; unlocked. He peered into the darkness of the cabin, while his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. To say something was amiss was an understatement.
“Saul?” he called into the cabin. When he was not answered, Holden ventured into the dark home. Almost instantly, he recognized the scenery; the dinner table, the fireplace, and the window overlooking the grounds where his marksmanship was molded. The only irregularity was how everything seemed so untouched, left at the mercy of time. That, and the door to Saul’s room hung wide open. Approaching the door, Holden felt a tickle of the cold, on his neck, and turned around. The sight he saw only chilled him further.
There stood a hooded figure in the doorway, as still as stone. While the unexpected sight might have unnerved others, it was nothing compared to what Holden felt as he stared at Saul’s scornful expression.
“Of all the possible people,” Saul started, his voice filled with irrefutable disgust, “they send the closest I could call my kin.”
“Saul?” Confused, Holden took a step closer, yet quickly regained the distance as Saul drew a knife. “What are you doing? What are you talking about?”
“Did they teach you to feign honesty as well?” Saul’s words were sharp, like the dagger he pointed at Holden. “I warned you, Holden! I warned you of the price for resting amongst serpents! Do tell me, what sweetened words did they use to have you barter your own soul?”
“Barter my soul?” Still gripping the hilt of his blade, Holden tried to piece everything together. If there was a way to talk Saul down, he would find it. “I came here to visit you of my own accord, Saul.”
“Why should I trust you? You would make an excellent assassin for them, after all.”
“Is someone trying to kill you?”
There was a long moment of silence, as Saul glared at Holden. Then, he groaned, lowering his dagger. “You chose an ill time to return home,” he said, slumping against the doorway. “I’m no longer the man I was. I’m now branded as a traitor for my involvement with the resistance, and His Majesty declares that I be brought before trial.”
“So you’ve abandoned your home?”
“Aye.” Saul turned to glance outside. “The King’s Generals have vowed to bring me to justice -- they’ll see me hang.”
“How did this happen?” Holden asked. Saul was a war hero, and had he been treated as such, the accusation of being a rebel would have been laughed off.
“The King’s Generals have wanted me gone for quite some time,” Saul explained. “I know of the treachery they have committed for the gain of power. My existence stands as a threat to whatever they are conspiring to do.”
“So, you think the Generals put me to killing you.” Holden did not need to hear Saul say it. “But what will you do? You cannot hide in On’hino forever.”
“I know.” Sheathing the dagger, Saul neared Holden, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve gone to continue this crusade in Tamef’s name. I’ll think of a way to put an end to their corruption. It is for your sake that I must refrain from explaining anything further on the matter.”
“I understand,” Holden said, “though I must ask something else.”
“Go on.” Closing the door, Saul sat down at the dinner table.
“I was sent out to Rnyrt with the expeditionary forces. Within a month, I have shed so much blood.”
“You’re feeling inhuman, aren’t you?” Saul stared at Holden with observing eyes.
“Yes. I have killed again, and again. Each time, I feel even less affected by the atrocity I commit.”
“Worry not of being unmoved by taking a life. It is mere a manner of goals. Rnyrtians are taught at a young age to reject the influence of other nations, as to preserve their brutish traditions, like sacrifice. You were taught to take two things into priority; your objective, and your own survival. Since your objective threatens the survival of their tradition, the Rnyrtians aimed to prevent both. In battle, think of killing not as a sin, but as proving your conviction to living and completing your mission.”
“Thank you.” Holden felt a great weight lifted off of his shoulders, hearing Saul say that. While he knew that he was not absolved of dealing death, he felt far less guilty of the matter. Like Tamef had told him, it was kill or be killed. “I have to ask something else.”
Saul shifted in his seat, relaxing back. “I’m all ears, Holden.”
“How do you heal someone who forfeits their hope in life?”
Saul frowned. “That is a question I prayed to never hear again.”
“Someone asked you before?”
“I asked, myself.” Sighing softly, Saul motioned for Holden to sit down. “I trust that you have heard talk of your father, and his heroics, yes?”
“I have.”
“Let me tell you of his last duty. He was no hero, then. We were assigned to patrolling the borders of Tarlmisac, to ensure that the remnants of the Umbral Horde could not escape into Siyerrod. It was a cold, dark night, and our patrol was resting at camp. Without warning, the Umbrals struck, and carved through our forces with little hindrance. Given the order to retreat, I escaped. But, your father was amongst the captured. I know not of what they had done to him, but when I managed to find him, he was laid there, a leg severed, his hands gripping the hilt of a dagger buried into his gut. He was twisting the blade, Holden; twisting it in some attempt to rid himself of whatever nightmares he suffered.
“At first, he said nothing to me. By Hino’s grace, I kept him alive, and an Onerian cleric was able to mend his physical wounds. It was a while before he spoke. But when he did, all he could say was that ‘he was broken.’ Screamed it at the top of his lungs, while he sobbed. It was the first time that I’d ever seen a man who was shattered by pain and despair, and I prayed for it to be the last. I retired from His Majesty’s Service, so that I could help heal your father. For the most part, it worked. He bought a farm away from the cities, married and started a family. However, he’ll never be what he once was.”
Holden sat in silence. Part of him could not believe Saul. He did not want to think of his father in such a pained state of living, wanting nothing but the embrace of death, awaiting nothing but the end of his days. It made sense, however. His father would not endorse Holden’s urge to join the military, and never spoke of himself as a war hero. Perhaps it was not that he was jaded; rather, he feared reliving the pains the Umbral Horde subjected him to.
“To answer your question,” Saul said, “I still await the day your father’s heart starts to beat like it used to.”
“I see,” Holden replied quietly. While he could not shed a tear on the matter, he felt his heart throb in pain. His father only wanted to protect him from ending up like him, or Honler; somewhere in Okeluiso, screaming that same thing; that he was a broken man.
“I’m afraid that I must end this conversation,” Saul said, standing up. “I doubt that the Generals will simply give up searching my cabin, and each moment I remain here bears the risk that I am discovered.”
“Understood.” While Saul made a hasty exit, Holden remained in his seat. The door was left open, letting the cold air flood into the room. He had left his home, and endured the harsh conditions of his duty, only to return and find everything discomposed. He failed Yerryn, Honler was the victim of some unholy agony within, Saul was a hunted man, and his father was merely a collection of broken pieces.
But, he could not turn back. Everything in his wake was a shattered image of its former self. The only path was the one before him. For better or worse, he would have to walk the path he chose.
***
“There he is!” The guard at the checkpoint grinned, though it was hard to tell. The nights during the Frost were very dark. “Welcome back, Sergeant. You wouldn’t believe what happened while you were away.”
“I haven’t the time to guess,” Holden replied. His tone would have been enough to send away most people, but the guard carried on, perhaps out of solely respect.
“Colonel Marius received word of your recovery, and came to Perona in search of you. He told us to inform you that he will be waiting at Lieutenant Yerryn’s quarters for your return.” The guard stepped aside for Holden. “It’s not wise to keep a man as fierce as a lion waiting, Sergeant.”
“Right.” Proceeding through the checkpoint, Holden paused for a moment to take in the sight of Perona. Past the harbor, an endless expanse of black collided with the celestial heavens, the beauty and glory above merging with the sea of uncertainty below. Would his path lead into the stars, or was his fate dwelling within the dark waters?
“Is something amiss, Sergeant?” the guard asked.
“No, I’m fine.” Holden left the checkpoint and moved down the street, returning to Yerryn’s office. The guards at the door were like statues, the fog of their breaths the only sign that they were even alive. Opening the door, he stepped inside to find both Yerryn and Marius there to greet him.
“Did you have a pleasant stroll, Sergeant?” Marius asked, folding his arms over his chest. His stern gaze was absent, however the look Yerryn had was fearsome enough. “We were worried that you were being ran late by wolves and outlaws.”
“I was out looking for some peace of mind,” Holden said. It was a lie, but there was no doubt that explaining his meeting with Saul was a bad idea. “As you can see, I’m well enough.”
“Then let us waste no further time.” Marius motioned for Holden to sit. “While the elves in Rnyrt justified our cause for annexing the nation, the good people of Oner fear that our intent was to claim far more. With us now at their borders, it is an understandable fear. In good faith, we are committing a unit of soldiers from the Royal Army to aid them in their war with Omem. I want you in that unit.”
“What of the Aradians?” asked Holden. “They still have a price to pay.”
“If we were to declare an open war against Arade now, then the fear of On’hinian expansion would rise once more. Not to mention, the forests of Arade have never been successfully invaded before. The preparation for such a battle could take decades.” Marius glanced at Yerryn. “Can you remember the last time an army tried to invade Arade?”
“Not quite,” Yerryn said. Her tone was cold as ice, though it seemed to bother Marius little. “The last notable aggression was the Umbral Reign, when the Horde tried its might against the elves. The Aradians did what it took the rest of Erelith to manage at Siyerrod.”
“Right.” Marius scratched his jaw, bearing a look of deep thought. “Then it would take an army with more might than ever before witnessed in Erelith. One that could contest the battling forces in the Origins. But, as I said, Arade is a long, distant dream at the moment.”
“Colonel, why do you want me in this unit? Why are we even getting involved with Oner’s concerns?” Holden was not too warm with the idea of going out to battle so soon. He only recovered from near death this morning. Even the piercing glares of Marius and Yerryn were little in comparison to the unfaltering chill that flowed through his body with his brush with death.
“Listen closely,” Marius said, “while we can sustain our nation’s upkeep through exporting quality goods, to rely solely on that would present the risk of our economy going stagnant.”
“I don’t quite understand.”
Marius sighed, and rubbed his own forehead. “Have you ever heard of Oase?”
“The nation wiped out by the Ar'taians, yes.”
“It was. Now, before the Cascade of Ice, the nation was renowned for one thing; having the most fierce and capable warriors to set foot in Erelith. They lived independent of the need for trade, but vended their strength to other nations, so they could improve their way of life.”
“A nation of mercenaries?” Holden asked.
“Indeed.” Marius cleared his throat, and looked to Yerryn. “Would you mind explaining this to him?”
“Not at all, sir,” replied Yerryn. “Our nation’s military is used in a similar fashion to the Oaseans.”
“What are you saying?” Holden asked, the blood in his veins starting to grow heated. “That I am but a mere sellsword?”
“It is not only about the Angits,” Marius said, “it’s about improving the diplomatic relations between us and Oner. The King’s General’s agreed that founding an alliance with the nation would prove extremely beneficial.”
“Then send in the entire On’hinian army,” suggested Holden.
“In time,” Marius explained. “For now, we offer as much aid as they can accept, until they permit us to grow fully involved. There is still plenty of time before the unit will be formed. In the meantime, relax. I understand that the ordeal you survived in Rnyrt is still fresh in your memory.”
“I will be training you personally,” Yerryn said, “so that you may embody the ideals of an On’hinian soldier in more than just marksmanship. We’ll be travelling to Stal to execute such training.”
Holden blinked. “Stal?” His confusion worsened at Marius’ chuckle.
“Ah, Stal,” Marius said, in some cloud of nostalgia. “It’s the crucible that changed countless men into glowing heroes. It’s an honor to be trained in such a place, Alnhart. I pray that you come out stronger for it.”
“Enjoy the evening,” Yerryn said, “because at dawn, we’ll leave.” Standing up, she bowed her head towards Marius, before leaving the room.
“I gather that she holds something against you,” Marius commented.
“She blames me for Honler’s condition.” Holden looked at the seat where Yerryn was. She did have some right to be angry at him. “When she was explaining my assignment, she asked me to look after him.”
“Never make those promises,” said Marius. “The Sergeant was more than aware of the danger he faced. Whatever happened prior to your intervention is of his own doing.”
“How could I explain that to Yerryn?”
“You can’t. There’s nothing in Erelith that can appease the soul after loss of love.”
“Loss of love?”
“Yerryn and Honler were to be wed when they retired from His Majesty’s service,” Marius explained. Perhaps he did not realize it, but each of his words only made the matter worse for Holden.
“I had no idea,” he murmured softly. Yerryn held not only a broken oath against him, but the ruined chance of love, as well. Part of Holden began to wish that Marius had never saved him, so that he could repent for his failure in trying to rescue Honler.
“I know that look,” said Marius as he stood up. “You’re blaming yourself for this mess. Well, I’m unsure of how to reassure you that you’re innocent, but…” He leaned in, lowering his voice as he stared into Holden’s eyes. “You have no time to grieve. Not yet. Keep moving, or let death catch up to you.”
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