Cedric of Parcia

A short story

1

When I was born, the Parcian Empire was strong, the Emperor was just, and the Parcian armies drove back the evils of the world to protect the free people within their borders. This may not be a wholly accurate description, but it doesn’t matter. To the few score humans who lived in my village, it was true. True in the same way that it was true that the oceans were wet. The desert was hot. The sun flew from east to west. These truths were too big and far away to be questioned by a people more concerned with the state of the harvest.

We liked the Empire for how little we saw of it. The tax collector arrivals were few and far between, and the village was far enough away from the borders that it never saw battle.

My parents had lived their lives in this village, and I grew up on their farm. It wasn’t over large and it was only two miles from the town square. My parents taught me how to tend crops, how to pray to the gods, and how to do my duty to the Empire.

One of those duties was compulsory service to the military for all able-bodied men. Understand; this was no hated practice. My father was proud to send his son to serve Parcia. He regaled me with tales of his own tour of service and jokingly warned me of the rigors of training. The night before I was to join the visiting company of soldiers, my father pulled me aside and held out a dagger to me.

“A gift, Cedric,” he said and I noticed the carving of the Imperial Lion in the hilt. “The last one I have to give before you become a man. When you get to training, you will be given weapons to fight with. Until then, I want my son to be the only conscript who is armed and ready to fight!”

Shamelessly, I can tell you that tears of admiration fell from my eyes that night.

I left home the next day and joined the march to the training fields. My father had not lied about the strain it would put on my body. I had plowed fields for several years, but nothing worked my back and shoulders like sword drills; nothing worked my legs like formation marching; nothing worked my mind like sparring.

The other recruit I’d been paired with for the sparring drills went by the name Marcus. He hailed from the town of Dolmira which was in the northern Empire, and his toothy smile was always on display.

“Come on, Farmboy!” he yelled as I recovered from another blow to the stomach. I looked up to see his proud grin reflecting the sunlight. “Who taught you how to block?”

“His name was Darius,” I gasped. “And he was a mule. Not all of us had guardsmen stationed in their hometown.”

Marcus planted his wooden sword in the ground and waited patiently for me to regain my footing. “That’s no excuse. You’re young and you’ve not wasted your muscles in your youth. You just need to teach them differently.”

I hated when Marcus mentioned my youth when we were the same age, but he was right. “So, what do I do?”

“Get your guard up,” he told me and demonstrated the position. I tried to imitate what we had drilled but he still made some adjustments to my feet and arms. The funny thing was, the adjustments made the sword feel more comfortable in my hands; as though I were actually holding a blade and not some length of wood.

“Alright,” I said. “Now how do I keep- “

Before I could finish, Marcus delivered a stunning, overhand blow that would have caved in my skull had I not been holding the block as he had instructed. Instead, the two beams of wood collided and Marcus’ slid off the cross guard into the dirt. I exchanged a glance with him, and even though he was shaking his aching hands, his smile had somehow doubled in size.

“I see,” I chuckled. “I think I can learn that.”

2

The next months were much of the same. After we newcomers became more adept with the drills, the unit commanders gave us our own blades and armor. The leather armor for conscripted infantry was not as glamorous as the captain’s plate mail, but it was light, sturdy, and I felt invincible in it.

I began to ask some of the more veteran members what to expect from the rest of our tour. Unfortunately, most of the members of our company were nearly as green as me, but many had relatives that were officers and career military. The general consensus is that we would fill the remaining months with patrols and maintaining order on the borders of the Empire.

I was excited at this prospect. Most people from my village lived their whole lives within a few miles of the town square aside from military service. Sure, most of the patrols would be dull, but this would be my chance to go and see the world.

After four months of training, we received our marching orders.

“Soldiers!” Captain Reik called once he had gathered the company together. The captain was of an average height and build, but he bore the scars of one who had survived many engagements. “We march south at dawn. I have received word of a rebel band that is forming in direct opposition to Parcia. Those barbarians dare to disobey the just laws of our Emperor. Will we let this threat to our families stand?”

The soldiers all yelled in the negative. I thought of my mother and father at home and couldn’t help screaming too.

“Will we let this threat to the Empire stand?”

Another yell. Our blood was in our ears at this point.

“Parcians!” Few of us were actually from that great city, but I felt a warmth in my heart at being included in the name. “Will you join me in crushing this rebellion?”

We all screamed, but in my mind, I screamed the loudest. I wanted my family safe, and I wanted to be a Parcian in truth as well as in name. Captain Reik’s speech filled me with the desire to be the best warrior in the world.

The march south didn’t start until near midday. Our company was only a few hundred, but it takes time to don the armor, break camp, and load the wagons. The march was grueling under the cloudless sky and it wasn’t long before I felt rivulets of sweat trail down my spine. At our rate of travel, we wouldn’t reach the southern steppes for another three days. Fortunately, the march was not as rigid as some of the drills, so idle conversation bubbled throughout the ranks.

I soon learned the significance of our direction. The Parcian Empire was not the first kingdom to have attempted to gather all the races under one banner, but it was the first that was actually having success with it. Many cities integrated Dwarves and Humans, but under the Imperial Dynasty, Elves and Orcs had joined that number. Now the Empire spanned the better part of a thousand leagues in all directions of the compass. In the northern mountains, dwarven citadels flew the blue and black of Parcia. To the east, elven port cities paid in chests of the Emperor’s gold.

And to the south were Orcs.

3

The troops I marched with were all human, and among them, there was a subtle, unspoken animosity towards the Orcs. I had never met one, but the village elders had told stories where the grey-green savages would steal children to make stew and other sorts of monstrous behavior. Many assumed the rebellion was the act of one or more orcish tribes, for the Orcs had always been the least amicable towards joining the Parcian Empire. Their traditions promoted independence and a reluctance toward subjecting themselves to authority.

After three days we encountered the first barricade.

The Graggnan Tribe built their tents in a large circle that was ringed with a twelve-foot wall of upright logs. The main road passed through the two gates that bisected the tribe, but it had been barred with enough wood to completely close the wall on both sides.

The first day, we had stood in rigid formation outside the northern gates while Reik and the other officers conferred with the local chieftain under a banner of truce. Though the captain spoke to no one, word soon came to my ears that the leader of the Graggnan was refusing to take down the wall. The tribe had apparently rejected the authority of Parcia and was now refusing passage for any Imperials to go further south.

At the dawn of the next morning, two massive battering rams were hewn from nearby foliage and led to the front of our ranks. With the fear and excitement of untried soldiers, we marched for the gates of the tribe. Captain Reik had authorized a show of force, but we were not to unnecessarily take lives.

The walls fell to splinters after the second swing, and the entirety of our forces marched in. I was not immediately in the front ranks, so I had to learn what happened secondhand. When the northern wall was breached, the south had been thrown open and the tribesmen poured out. There had been a few holdouts- some stubborn men and belligerent adolescents- but they had been dispatched far before the main force had even lost momentum. In all, three Orcs had died, ten Orcs had been captured, and one Parcian soldier had received a superficial cut on his left thigh. The rest of the Graggnan tribe had escaped south, but our captain was sure we would catch up with them.

“Sent them running!” Marcus crowed when I caught up with him after the battle. “Tell me, Cedric: how does victory feel?”

I shrugged. “Good, I suppose. I feel like I missed most of it.”

“Cheer up,” he encouraged. “There’s more to come.”

4

After everything had been cleared up and the prisoners sent with a detachment, we were ordered to continue our march south. However, the course was not as direct as it had been before. Since the Graggnan tribe had confirmed the identity of our rebels, we only marched every other day and spent the days between training for battle with Orcs.

The difference was not difficult to adapt but it was significant. A single Orc was taller and stronger than a single Human, so we began to drill in formations of four soldiers. The Wall formation involved two ranks of two soldiers; the front locking their shields in front of them while the rear locked their shield above to defend against overhead strikes. Spear formation involved one soldier taking the point while two flanked, and the back rank allowed for a tired soldier to rotate with a more rested one.

At that rate of travel, we encountered three more tribes in the next two weeks. The results were nearly identical to the first battle, but we were able to keep from causing any more casualties. Reik made it very clear that we would make a more positive impact in the region without further bloodshed.

It’s too bad my first engagements had not been more of a fight. I might have been prepared for what was coming.

The only major difference in the attacks was the Halchlekk tribe. It was the largest tribe for fifty miles but when our company arrived, it was completely deserted. There was no barricade, even with four wide gates to the city. No warriors remained and the firepits were cold. The ranks had scattered for the day and many of the soldiers were wandering the tents in search of any stragglers.

I was one of the wanderers. It was eerie, seeing the life that the Orcs lived abandoned so suddenly. There was dried food hanging from some tents, and animal skin doors were left open to the elements. Chips of stone, shavings of wood, and scattered tools testified to a sudden interruption of work. It was as if the entire tribe had suddenly vanished. Where had they gone?

I soon ran into Marcus who was coming out of one of the tents. His signature smile had lost some of its brightness after so many anticlimactic skirmishes.

“Cedric. Are you enjoying the tour?”

I smirked humorlessly and he joined me on my walk. I asked, “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

“Ah, who can tell?” He answered with a shrug. “They probably scattered to the hills when they heard about hundreds of Imperial troops marching their way. The green beasts are savage but they aren’t suicidal.”

I nodded, but I still wasn’t sure how I felt about the Orcs. They were technically a part of the Empire, weren’t they? Yet they had fled when Imperials marched toward them. If we were protectors of Parcia, why did we cause fear in fellow Parcians?

We stopped for Marcus to step into another tent. After only a few seconds, the flap swung out and I saw him holding a necklace in his left hand. It was a gaudy thing made of a dozen beast teeth that were as long as my middle finger and sharply serrated. From the middle dangled a circular medallion that looked to be tarnished silver. I was surprised to see that in an orcish tribe when I had never seen as much as a silver coin in my village.

“Who do you think that belonged to?”

Marcus considered the necklace for a moment, then he ripped the medallion off and dropped the teeth to the ground.

“It belongs to the Empire.”

5

We broke camp the morning and in two days we stood outside the city of Darrowend. The Human city was walled with stone bricks and the mystery of the missing Orcs was quickly solved. The massive cluster of refugees outside the city looked like a ring of fungus on a felled tree. There must have been thousands camped outside Darrowend; perhaps not enough to account for all the empty tribes, but an intimidating number, nonetheless.

As we watched, streams of Orcs entered the gates of the city. It was too hard to tell at this distance, but it was likely the women and children seeking the safety of the walls.

I had drawn one of the lots for the front lines this time, and I was able to hear the grumbles of Captain Reik as he brought his horse into a brisk trot and led us to the gates. My shield was shaking in my grip and adrenaline coursed through my veins at the prospect of finally being at the head of a fight.

When the captain stopped us, we stood only a few hundred feet from the gate. Between us and Darrowend was the uneven mass of hundreds of armed and sweating Orcs. They wore no armor, but the verdant musculature rippling beneath their ragged clothes was more intimidating than steel.

Reik lifted his pike to brandish the streamer of white cloth to the city’s inhabitants. Instead of opening the gates, a well-dressed woman appeared atop the walls. Her head was ringed with gold, her shoulders were ringed with fur and her wrists were ringed with silver. I assumed she must be the local governor.

“You hold the cloth of peace in one hand, Imperial, but the steel of war in the other,” called the governor. The wall was a dozen feet in height, but still, her voice boomed as if she stood inches away. “What explanation have you for this contradiction?”

“Lady Calash, I am Captain Reik,” Reik’s voice rang out at the same volume. “We come seeking rebels. There were several tribes of Orcs on the road who have denied the authority of our Emperor,” there was a subtle emphasis on the word ‘our.’ “We believe some of the guests of your city are these rebels. I would ask your assistance in detaining them and bringing them to justice.”

Lady Calash visibly relaxed her body language, but her expression and voice remained just as tense. “I see. Well, Captain, there appears to be a misunderstanding. These fine people do not constitute a rebellion, because their tribes no longer belong to the Empire.”

“I am confused, Lady. The latest maps of this region put these tribes between the center of the Parcian Empire and Darrowend. Am I to understand that some of the Borderlands exist inside our borders?”

“Not at all,” Calash chuckled. “For neither is Darrowend a part of the Empire. The lower border of Parcia is now nearly one hundred miles north of here.”

I watched as Reik’s left hand slipped to grip the pommel of his sword and his horse knickered as it sensed his tension. “Are you claiming to have formed a rival Empire of your own, Calash? What promises have you made these savages that they bow to you?”

“Those tribesmen are not my subjects, but independent nations in themselves. They have merely retreated to the safety offered by a near ally when they were threatened by an outside power.”

“By what right do you declared yourself separate from the Empire?”

“By my own right!” the governor’s façade of relaxation had been completely disposed of at this point. “By the right of Darrowend’s people! Is it not the right of free citizens to decide who rules them? Darrowend ruled itself long before Parcia jammed its flag in our parapets, and it will rule itself long after your precious Emperor is buried.”

Most of the conversation confused me, and I did not understand the position of the governor. At the time, I wondered: Why would she take her people away from the protection that the soldiers of Parcia offered?

One thing was certain, however. Tensions were mounting on both sides, and it did not take a veteran to realize that when two armed forces are staring at each other with aggression brewing, bloodshed was imminent.

“That is your opinion on the issue?” Reik asked. His voice was now lowered to a cold threat.

“You know that it is, Captain. Understand that if your soldiers attack a sovereign nation, you will be instigating a war. My people will have no choice but to defend themselves.”

I, along with several others in the front line, looked at Reik, but he seemed to have stopped paying any mind to Lady Calash. He muttered a few commands to one of his lieutenants and that soldier immediately rode off to the northeast at a gallop. Looking forward again, the captain raised a gauntleted fist.

“Archers!”

Immediately, the second and third ranks lifted their bows and drew back. I heard the scrape as a metal tip grazed the shoulder of my armor. At the same time, I joined the front rank in locking shields and drawing short swords. The two-and-a-half-foot length of steel suddenly felt heavier than ever before. I looked up and saw Lady Calash leaning over the wall.

“Captain, don’t do this!”

“Take aim!” yelled Reik, ignoring her.

I looked into the eyes of the Orcs in front of me. They were growling and shaking their clubs and axes over their heads. Anger cascaded from them like a flood and I did my best to hold onto my resolve. I would be a great soldier. I would make my family and my Empire proud.

“Stop this madness!”

Captain Reik stared straight at the gates and his jaw set like a stone brick.

“Fire!”

6

Feathers whistled past my ear and I saw Orcs in mid-run stumble backward with chests full of arrows. The rest kept coming in a wave and I could tell that they still easily outnumbered us. The front line was already charging as Reik gave us the order and we streamed past him to meet our foes. Only one more volley of arrows was able to strike the orcish forces before the melee began.

“Walls!” yelled the nearest lieutenant.

I and three other soldiers locked shields just in time for two Orcs to slam clubs against the riveted wood. I gasped under the strain, but the formation held. Seconds later, we received the order for Spear Formation and I took point.

I was staring down two Orcs and by instinct, I stepped forward between them with my shield above my head. I swung the blade at the thighs of the one on the right and stepped back with ebony blood on my blade. I expected to feel the bludgeoning impacts of two clubs hitting my chest, but the men to my left and right had acted when I drew their attention. Now there were two dead Orcs in front of us and our formation was advancing again as a Wall.

In this manner, we fought for several grueling minutes. Some Orcs wielded curved, single-edged blades, but they were built for one-on-one combat; not the clashing of armies. In my time at the back of the Spear formation, I was able to monitor the progress of the battle. My formation sustained few wounds, and with the efforts of the other ranks, we were slowly diminishing the opposing force.

I grew elated at the success of my first battle, but also apprehensive. This was too easy. We were outnumbered, yes, but combining four different tribes of Orcish warriors was not the same as forming a cohesive army. They were already falling back and some had given up entirely to scatter to the hills. I felt like something was missing, but I couldn’t place it. Lady Calash had been far too confident in the strength of her position.

It was while I was at the head of another Spear that I realized what was wrong. I saw the agonized expression on the tusked Orc and I remembered that we were fighting at the gates of a Human city. But where were the Human soldiers?

As if on cue, I heard the shout of the officers screaming in unison.

“Fall back! Reform ranks!”

The ranks had divided into scores of formations and the order sent a wave of panic through the blue-clad ranks like wind through a field of grass. I chanced a look behind me and saw a new threat that was approaching.

Atop a rise in the hill stood the Darrowend banner with hundreds of troops marching behind it.

7

We were soldiers. Soldiers from the best and greatest Empire in history, so when we were given orders, we followed them immediately. It was the biggest mistake that we could have made.

The Parcian forces would have most certainly crushed the armies of Darrowend. They did not have the experience or resources of our commanders. Fewer than half held blades without rust or wore armor that was little more than cured fur.

The mistake was turning our backs to the Orcs.

The second we were aware of the incoming troops, the scattered ranks of Orcs regrouped and converged on the Parcians who had initially been the front line. Being a member of that line, I realized I would have to act quickly to save my skin.

I shoved the shoulders of the men in my formation and shouted, “Make a Wall!”

We did our best, but a seven-foot Orc brought his club down before the upper shields were formed and the man to my left fell into a broken heap. Luckily the Orc had trouble pulling the club out of the armor, and we were able to dispatch him before he recovered.

I modified the Spear Formation with the three of us, but the organization that the rest of the company offered was gone, and we quickly became overwhelmed. To my chagrin, I could hear the soft whupwhupwhup of arrows hitting the rear ranks. I advanced towards a cluster of three Orcs who were all equipped with the single-edged scimitars. The sound of metal against metal rang out as my blade and the blades of my comrades impacted; sending out brilliant sparks.

The largest of our adversaries swung wide with a two-handed strike and I was barely able to parry with my shield. The shock ran up my arm, so it took me a split second to realize that the soldier to my left had lost his sword arm at the elbow. I aimed a flurry of blows at the Orc, but he dispatched my disarmed ally before I could end his life.

I stared in shock as my formation was reduced to half its original strength.

“Help!” cried the last soldier of my formation, breaking me from my trance. I turned to see him engaged with one of our enemies and saw that he was already laced with several superficial wounds on his legs and arms. A second Orc was moving in to help finish him off.

I rushed in and severed the Orc’s hamstring which brought his neck low enough for a decapitating blow. I kicked the body away and joined my comrade in facing our last foe. He hesitated, but then I felt the soldier at my side collapse to the ground. Apparently, one of those cuts had not been superficial.

So, I stood alone, facing nearly seven feet of green-skinned muscle. No formation to protect me and an army in disarray. The Orc chuckled menacingly and strode forward with his blade raised.

8

Realizing that this may very well be my last battle, I rushed forward and swept my sword overhead to deflect his strike.

Unfortunately, I underestimated the intelligence of my adversary. Instead of bringing his blade down on my head, he feinted and drew his blade back to his side. I recognized the maneuver, but there was no way to move my body in time to prevent being stabbed. At that moment between heartbeats, I felt the release of knowing that the end was coming and that the hand of Drya was reaching out for my soul.

Then Marcus jumped in front of me and took the scimitar through his midsection.

I was paralyzed with horror, but Marcus did not seem to suffer from the same level of shock. Without skipping a beat, he swung his sword across his body- impacting the side of the orcish scimitar and cleaving the blade with an ear-splitting snap!

The next second seemed to stretch into eternity. The three of us- Marcus, the Orc, and I- stared in bewilderment at the turn of events. Then the next grain of sand dropped through the hourglass and I snapped out of it. I swept my blade up, sending a ragged slice through the Orc’s thick neck. His eyes widened and his hand rose pitifully to try and staunch the onyx lifeblood that was already staining the ground.

Ignoring the dying beast, I ran over to Marcus’ body and lifted his head onto my kneeling leg. He was coughing blood and I franticly scanned my eyes over the wound to find any sign that his condition was somehow less serious. It was a futile exercise.

“Who,” Marcus began, but was interrupted by a cough. When he spoke again, his voice was severely muted. “Who taught you how to block?”

“Hang on, Marcus!” I reassured. “I’ll get you some help.”

“Not likely. Wounds like- hng- like this; there’s no coming back from. My father told me a story of when…”

Marcus’ voice trailed off and his eyes began to close.

“Marcus! Marcus, stay with me!”

His eyes again snapped into focus, and he seemed to gain a small measure of clarity. “We’re losing, aren’t we?”

I looked up and took in the surroundings. We sat in a remarkably still portion of the battle. The orcish forces were a fraction of what they had started as, and we had actually come some feet beyond their line, but they were causing havoc in our forces that were still engaged with the Darrowans. Azure cloth mixed with the blood of soldiers on the ground as a testament to the losses we had suffered. Though the battle had only been raging for a handful of minutes, the Parcian forces had been depleted by half.

I met Marcus’ eyes again and gave a solemn nod.

“Cheer up, Farmboy,” he said with a grin. “Not going to win every fight. Soldier’s lot in life. The good news is that we get to die in honor. We die for the Empire.”

The word “Empire” pulled the last breath of air from his lungs, and I watched as my best friend died the way he had lived: with a smile on his face.

9

My tears splashed on the leather of his armor as I briefly considered digging his grave then and there, but there would be no point. Instead, I laid his head down as gracefully as possible and grabbed my sword and shield.

I loved Parcia, or at least I thought I did, but my patriotism was not as strong as Marcus’ was. I was not ready to die if I could help it, and I was not going to let any more of my friends die either.

I ran forward toward the main body of Parcians as quickly as I could and scanned for the nearest intact formation. There wasn’t any, but a trio of soldiers was twenty feet away and did not seem to be as overwhelmed. A couple of sword strokes brought me in range of their formation.

“Let me in!” I shouted over the din of battle, and their shield parted enough to encompass me. They were holding the Wall formation, and their pale faces showed that they had no idea what else to do. “Has your lieutenant given new orders?”

“Lieutenant Briggs is dead,” replied the soldier to my left. He had the fair hair and complexion of an Eastern Imperial. I digested the information and finally gave a curt nod to the rest of the formation.

“I have an idea, but we need to find another formation. Are all of you able to travel?” I received three hesitant, but affirmative nods. “Good. Move out!”

As we shuffled forward, maintaining the Wall, I sheathed my sword and grabbed an extra shield from one of the fallen. With a gesture, I instructed the rest of the formation to do the same so that we walked with all sides protected.

It took little effort to find another formation. A group of four was doing an admirable job of holding their own in the spear formation. After a few words of command, my formation took guard between each of the soldiers. We raised one shield in front and the other turned on its side and above so that it overlapped the sword-wielding soldiers. We were now a formation of eight with coverage on all sides and above.

I chanced a look over the top of the shields and then motioned us to move east. The members of the formation I just joined made no argument and seemed to relax at the idea of deferring authority to me. As we marched, the corners locked in shields while each point of the compass extended blades toward the enemy with all the confidence of invincibility. At this pace, we quickly cleared half of the battlefield on the orcish front and several other formations were mimicking our style.

At the end of the line, I raised my shield-clad arm and shouted, “To the west!”

My formation no longer had the lead and we quickly became superfluous to this side of the battle. I remembered, with a start, that there was another front to the battle and I stood on my toes to survey the northern end of our engagement.

The Parcian and Darrowan forces were now completely dissolved into a melee squall that made it difficult to tell the difference between soldiers. Luckily, Imperial Blue stood out from the more muted colors of the mismatched rebel armor.

Somehow, we had not been wiped out. In fact, Captain Reik had been maintaining control enough that the main body of Parcians was holding together. I saw Reik in the middle of the company being held on his feet by two soldiers while a third was heavily binding his leg with bandages. He was not hampered by his wound, though, and he continued to bellow new orders as his forces no longer had to fend against the Orcs.

I rushed to make it to the frontline, but by the time I arrived the battle was nearly over. There were still a great number of Darrowan warriors, but instead of outnumbering us, it was more of an even match. To the ill-equipped and untrained rebels, it was not the ideal battle condition. Within the few seconds that it took for me to reach the fray, the enemy line broke and retreated.

What was left were the dead and wounded.

A brief miasma of confusion permeated the Parcian ranks in the next few minutes. Wounded men, and those tending to them, called for help. People were ranked by the severity of injuries, and those who would make it through the next hour without help were left to fend for themselves. Others began to announce the names of the dead or call out to those who were miraculously still alive.

Some of the murmurs were from soldiers who had become detached during the battle. They wandered through the bodies of the dead and mutters the bare facts of the battle.

“Nearly lost.”

“Way outnumbered. How did we-”

“Four of them to one of us. Surrounded-”

“Barely three score of us left. Where- “

Before long, I heard the captain’s voice come out over the other noises. He was getting reports from his lieutenants about the battle and restoring order, but he couldn’t get ahold of Lieutenant Briggs. No one else seemed to be giving him the bad news, so I began to trek through the battlefield towards him.

On my way, I saw one of the Darrowend bodies move to my right. The young bowman seemed to be having trouble standing, and there was a trickle of blood running from his forehead.

“Hey!” I yelled, rushing over. I knew he was one of the rebels, but the battle was over and I couldn’t stand back and leave a wounded soldier on the ground. “Let me help you!”

The Darrowan didn’t seem to notice me at all. He just stumbled around in a circle, his eyes focusing on nothing. Finally, he looked past me to the Parcian soldiers, and his eyes focused on Captain Reik.

“Soldier?” I asked but still received no answer. Instead, the young man knocked an arrow and raised his bow. “Soldier! Your battle is lost. Put down your weapon!”

I drew my blade, but the bowman continued to draw and take aim. At this point, many others were taking notice, but no one was close enough.

“No!” I cried. I acted without thinking and thrust my blade at him just as he let go of the arrow. The Imperial Steel split cleanly through the wood of the bow and sliced a deep furrow through his chest. The arrow went wide and the Darrowan collapsed to the ground.

10

When he fell, the leather cap he had been wearing rolled off and I saw his face. He was young- no older than I was. He had dark hair, brown eyes, and his skin held the pale complexion of someone who lived near the center of the Empire.

There was a voice calling in my direction, but I couldn’t hear it.

The Darrowan who was lying in a puddle of blood had my full attention. A youth swept up in the defense of his country. I bet he was passionate about Darrowend. I bet he believed the ideals of the rebellion were all true and good. I wondered what his name was.

He could have been me.

“Ensign!” That voice came again. I jolted back into awareness as I realized that it was the captain yelling at me. I did an immediate about-face and ran to stand before Reik. Somehow the troops had arranged for him to have a chair because he was sitting in it with his wounded leg propped. The bandage was stained with blood but it did not seem to be leaking through.

“What is your name, Ensign?” Captain Reik continued when I stood at attention a few paces from where he sat.

“Cedric, sir!”

“Ensign Cedric, I will remind you only once that you will respond immediately to the commands of a superior officer. Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Very good. On another note,” at this, his face visibly softened and I could see the strain of the battle break through his stoicism. “You just saved my life, soldier, and I don’t take that lightly. Do you by chance know where Briggs is? He hasn’t checked in.”

“He’s dead, sir.”

Reik nodded, but his face was that of confirmation, not surprise. “A damn shame. Not the best fighter, but Briggs had a head for organization that can’t be replaced.” Reik rose from his chair, eliciting several retorts from the soldiers tending him, but he waved them off. He limped over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “For the time being, I’m putting you in his position. We should have reinforcements by nightfall, but the city needs to be occupied well before they arrive. We’re low on manpower, but I want you to organize however many men it would take to build a battering ram and enter the city. Can I trust you with that?”

I nodded, and I soon realized I was grateful for the work. I was able to submerge myself in the tasks of organizing men and breaking down the gates, so I didn’t have time to think about the battle and the lives I’d taken.

Reik was true to his word. The scout he had sent out returned by nightfall with another three hundred Parcian soldiers, but by then, the city had been captured and the castle surrounded. We were also able to fill out the ranks with Imperial soldiers that Lady Calash had imprisoned before her rebellion. They looked haggard and unkempt, but they had not been overly mistreated.

The streets were not filled with combat as I assumed they would be. Even the Orcs were more willing to keep out of our way since they were mostly women and children at this point. A few rotten fruits were lobbed at the Imperials, but the perpetrators kept to shadows and shuttered windows. Captain Reik encouraged us not to pursue.

After the sun went down, we broke into the castle by torchlight. I led the offense and was met by trifling resistance. Darrowend was a city of merchants and craftsmen. Nearly all of the fighting men they possessed had been slain earlier in the day.

Lady Calash sat on her throne in the central chamber of the castle. She was dressed in the same finery she had worn before, and she sat straight-backed with her hands folded calmly on her lap. The only signs to belie her brave stoicism were the streaks from tears that had smeared the makeup around her eyes.

“My Lady,” I said to her. It was protocol to remain respectful to vanquished adversaries. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I am under strict orders to take you into custody.”

Calash nodded curtly but made no move to stand. For an awkward moment, I debated whether or not to send my men to forcibly remove her, but then she gave another nod and rose to her feet.

“Of course,” Calash replied. Her voice wavered violently with emotion. “It is only your duty. I do hope I will be taken to the Capitol for trial instead of being immediately hanged?”

I couldn’t help fluttering my eyes in amazement. “Without question, Lady. As one of the Emperor’s nobility, you above all require the full legal process.”

“One must be certain, in my position,” she countered, and a smile actually formed on her face. “Wars are fought for the powerful, Lieutenant, but the masses are used as weapons. But I digress. You have your orders.”

Lady Calash said nothing else on the way back to the captain. Reik looked her over and nodded. “Good work, Ensign.” The mention of my rank earned an inquisitive look from Darrowend’s governor, but I ignored it. “I have a few words to discuss with the governor, Cedric. I believe you’ve earned a reprieve. Go to your tent, and report to me first thing in the morning.”

I saluted and made my way out of the city. I had no intention of returning to the camp, so I grabbed a torch and walked back to the battlefield. It took less than an hour to find him, for we had not been far from the wall when he fell.

Marcus’ body lay where he had fallen only hours before. His empty eyes stared across the ground, reflecting the light of the moons overhead. I leaned over and closed his eyes and set to work.

First, I removed the broken blade from his middle. It had become wedged in his ribcage, so the effort was excruciating and I nearly gagged, but the metal eventually became removed. Then I planted the torch in the ground and began tearing through the soil near his body. It took most of the night, but the ground was soft enough to make the grave workable if not deep.

I arranged his body in the makeshift grave with as much dignity as I could manage. I removed his helmet and laid his sword over his chest. When I finished filling the grave, I placed his helmet over it and shoved a shield into the dirt. With my last dregs of energy, I pulled out the lion’s head knife my father had given me and scrawled out an epitaph:

Marcus of Dolmira

Honorable Son

Noble Friend

Born a Parcian

Died a Parcian

11

“I keep looking over the battle, and I come up with only one conclusion: we should not have won.”

Captain Reik was in his usual position behind a stack of papers and documents that stood two feet above his desk in the garrison office. He had been offered the larger accommodations of the governor’s quarters, yet he kept this tiny room in the barracks instead. It was a strain to see over the paperwork, but I kept my place and stood at rigid attention. The past few months had put pressure on everyone, but most especially on Reik, and he had been known to offer swift punishment for offenses as minute as slouching.

I was not in any position to judge his method of handling stress. The simple tour of service he had likely planned for a company of green conscripts had been entirely upended. The battle that had quelled a small uprising in the south had been just the beginning of the work the Parcians needed to complete. There was cleaning the battlefield, transporting prisoners for trials, maintaining occupation of the city, and reorganizing the ruling class. Nearly all of the nobility had been involved to some degree and it left some major gaps to fill.

As a raw recruit, I should have been given the more menial tasks, but I noticed the captain would often keep me busy with organizing groups of soldiers or heading civil projects. There was no overt talk of promotion, but there was a subtle difference in the way other soldiers listened to me when I made comments or gave directions.

“We were lucky, sir,” I replied. “The forces here were untrained and ill-equipped.”

“That’s only part of the issue,” Reik disagreed. He stood from his chair and put nearly all of his weight onto his crutch. The medics had done their best, but the damage to his ligaments had persisted long after the wound closed. “You can plan, you can strategize for a battle, but more often than not, a battle comes down to numbers. You and the rest of the men were better fighters, green as you were, were better than the merchants and artisans that Calash had cobbled together, but they had twelve hundred troops to our three hundred, and most of them were Orcs.”

He stared at me as if waiting for a response, so I said, “The Orcs were at a disadvantage, though. They don’t cooperate well in large groups.”

“Disadvantage,” he repeated, shaking his head. “No, the disadvantage was being ambushed and surrounded without any landscape to take cover in. Tell me, Ensign, how did we win?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Do you know why I called you in here?” I shook my head in the negative. “I called you in because all of my soldiers have been practicing a new formation of eight men and twelve shields. They call it the Fortress. They tell me a farm boy from a nameless village came up with it in the heat of battle.”

“I never gave it a name, sir,” I said before I could think, and my face flushed in embarrassment.

Captain Reik continued to stare at me, but he nodded in approval. “That formation is why we won. Calash knew our military strategies and knew that our infantry maneuvers were vulnerable to attacks from opposite directions. Your technique brought something new to the table and it was exactly what we needed to win the day.

“I called you in here to make a choice. I’ve received word that the new governor has been chosen for Darrowend. One of the Emperor’s second or third cousins, I believe, he’s coming with his entourage tomorrow morning. That means my company will no longer be needed and most of the recruits are ending their tours. You will get to go home, Cedric, but I’d like you to stay on. I require another Lieutenant, and you’ve proven yourself worthy of the position.”

I suppose I was more surprised than I should have been, but I asked incredulously, “You’re making me an officer?”

“That’s correct. And with this nasty bit,” he gestured to his leg. “They’ll likely promote me out of the combat ranks before long. When they do, you’ll be on the shortlist to have a captaincy of your own.”

The offer Reik was making was no small favor. The pay and advantage of becoming an officer at a young age would have me set for life. Sure, I would likely see battles from time to time, but according to the other soldiers, rebellions like this were few and far between. This was a simple choice and a fabulous opportunity.

Or it would have been before Darrowend.

When I’d begun my tour, I was excited about protecting the Empire, but here I’d seen that protecting the Empire might also mean killing its own people. It might mean driving tribes from their tents in the name of maintaining authority.

Maybe the Imperials were right. Or maybe Calash had been right to fight for independence. What worried me the most is that both sides might be wrong, and all the kings and commanders were convincing commoners and peasants to throw their lives away for nothing. I killed a man who was defending his home, and I had no idea if he deserved it.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t take you up on your offer.”

Reik nodded, but he did not keep the disappointment off his face. “I understand, Cedric, it’s been a hell of a tour. You went out of your way to save my life, though, so I’m leaving the offer open. I hope we cross paths again, and when we do, I’ll have a place for you. Dismissed.”

Back at camp, I began to pack my things together as most of the other soldiers were also doing. We were allowed to take our weapons and armor as a reward for our veteran status, but I also packed my tent, bedroll, and as many rations as my pack could carry. I had no intention of home, at least not right away.

I also strapped on the broken blade that I’d taken from Marcus’ body. I wanted to keep a reminder of what I’d lost. I had also picked up an extra scimitar that had been among the bodies of the Orcs. The exotic style of the blade was interesting to me and I hoped I could somehow learn to use it.

Fully adorned, I began to search for the road when I realized I had left my father’s dagger on the ground. I bent to pick it up and examine the insignia in the hilt. The Lion’s Head of Parcia was a symbol I had seen hundreds of times in the past months and it had lost its meaning to me. What was once the symbol of the Empire’s greatness was now a flat image of a beast I’d never seen before.

I thought of Marcus. He had died for what the Lion represented, and he had done it with pride. However, the Darrowan boy I’d slain had also been doing what he thought was for the good of his city. At this point, I had no idea if I thought the Empire, the rebels, or anyone else were worth dying for. Until I figured that out, I would have to work on living for myself and trying not to die.

With this in mind, I once again considered the scimitar. It was long, single-edged, and curved at an odd angle. It would be difficult to use in any formation with other foot soldiers. On the other hand, it was lighter, had more than half-again the reach of the Imperial blades, and its curve would help it cut through most cloth and armor. It would be extremely beneficial for one-on-one combat, and it seemed that I would be fighting on my own for the near future.

I stowed the scimitar in my belt and dropped the dagger in the dirt. Instead of the road, I began to walk cross country to the east in search of the nearest orcish tribe. I needed someone to train me with the scimitar, and maybe I could make myself useful to them. Perhaps I could start making amends for the lives I’d taken.

My steps kicked up small clouds of dust that fell to cover the Lion of Parcia.