I exit the cathedral to make my way to my men. Passing through military checkpoints and onlookers alike. The two Pretorian Guards escorting me walk silently. Provided to me to keep me safe during the march. Even clad in armour, every step is soft and gentle. I struggle to see how they make heavy armour look so elegant and move around in it with the agility of a cat. But I will admit, it is good to be given the best warriors within the faith.

  As I arrive at the military stables, Huson approaches me. Oddly enough, Olivia follows behind with her backpack full of art supplies. What is she even doing here? She wears something a farmer will give to their field hand at the start of summer. However, she seems warm and happy with her new set of clothes.

  ‘Everything is ready, we stocked up on arrows, and I made sure to have those signal bombs at our disposal.’ Huson calmly says, though he tries to ignore the little girl smiling next to him.

  Good, at least we’ll be ready for the journey ahead. The two Pretorian Guards broke rank to grab and retrieve steeds. It isn’t mandatory that they come with me. We are in separate branches after all. Though it is good to have extra protection in case we face any Dogs.

  ‘Have our scouts spotted any Dogs? Or is there a chance that we don’t have to deal with them?’

  Huson shrugs, ‘nothing as of late. However, I doubt the roads are safe given that they have been probing our defences as of late.’

  I nod to him, bitter at the possibility of battle. The Dogs are becoming more competent in ambushing, and I have no intentions to be at the receiving end. Fortunately, a small contingent will have us quickly get there and back in short notice.

  ‘Mount up, the sooner we deal with the problem, the sooner we can return here.’

  Huson performs a formal salute before heading off. Often, he never salutes or does anything of the sort with me. Though I suppose it is different when others are eyeing you on palace grounds.

  Olivia stands there, grinning while she waits for me to acknowledge her existence. I can’t tell if this is part of her training as a servant, or if she is just being a kid wanting some sort of attention and appreciation for wanting to come along.

  ‘Olivia, what are you even doing here?’

  ‘I want to come,’ she blurts out.

  ‘Ah,’ I nervously respond. Bringing her on a military mission will be, well, pretty stupid. She’s a kid, she can’t do anything besides taking notes and drawing a few sketches. It also seems she didn’t bring a lot for the two-day trip. In the end, she is more of a liability and a hindrance than a person I can trust, especially when we are heading through contested territory.

  Some politicians and soldiers staying at the palace glare at Olivia. She isn’t welcome here. I don’t need to be a scientist or a mage to read the room. Olivia isn’t safe here. Leaving her is not an option, not when I can tell that the people in the palace don’t appreciate an enemy setting foot in the palace. A slave, a Dog that we are fighting against, who dares walk on holy grounds. No one confronted me on the issue, though their look of hate is a strong indication of their disapproval. It isn’t a good idea to bring her, but at the same time, I doubt I have a choice if I want her to stay safe.

  ‘Okay, you can come. But you’ll be quiet and you’ll listen and do everything I say. Understand?’

  She gives me a poorly performed salute with a grin. Not saying a word in reply, instead demonstrating she understands what is expected of her. I suppose telling her to be quiet is easier said than done. I can’t help but find it funny that a Dog child is better behaved than a typical Cinari adult.

  But I shouldn’t delay anymore, I gesture to her to follow me to my horse so we can begin our long march south from here. A carriage will be a better option for comfortability, however, if I need to flee the scene or fight. It will be best if I ride my own horse. I suppose it is kind of me to show her the world outside of these walls, though in the end, it would be better if it isn’t during a time of war.

  It is strange to not hear the horses gallop on the stone road. The snow acts as a cushion for our steeds. Huson made sure to be behind the whole group, protecting my rear with a handful of men. From a distance, I can tell he has the expression of homesickness, or worse, he misses a comforting touch. I think deep down, he misses Jack. I can’t blame him, nor will I grill him for it. Missing someone we care about is what makes us different from animals; it is what connects us to our mortality.

  Olivia sketches in her notebook, making doodles of the landscape, trees, and even birds. Like she was told, he stays silent through the whole trip. Though I can tell that she itches to ask me some burning questions, maybe that is what the doodles are for, to remind her what to ask me when she is allowed to speak again.

  I can’t help but crack a smile; in a way, it is kind of cute. Yet that smile fades as soon as it forms. In the end, she is still a slave, a tool to the Empire and to me. Does she miss her mother? Surely she would’ve, or at least I think she does. They will never reunite, never, because the life of a slave made her unable to keep on living. A reality that despite being horrible, I am afraid is far too common. I suppose it is easier to face death than to be a tool to another person. At least, that is what I believe. Is it best to encourage her to think fondly of her mother before I hand her the letter? What even is the best time to tell her of Dana’s fate? Maybe there isn’t a right time or moment, but I know it isn’t now. Perhaps, there is never a time where I can tell Olivia her mother’s fate. Not when in a way, I am responsible for it.

  Two Outriders rush towards me on horseback, forcing their steeds to stop with a sense of urgency. ‘We spotted some Dogs, at least two hundred of them! They are marching on the road and they’ll be here soon.’ He blurts out in exhaustion.

  That is a problem, I signal Huson to come towards me. The enemy is up ahead, and I need to get past them, one way or the other. Them being deeper into my lands will mean the main force wouldn’t be far behind. I have to get to the fort and elect a new Commander now so the soldiers can ensure that their area is defended. Turning back now will only cause the Northern Front to collapse and threaten the safety of the capital.

  ‘What’s our strength?’ I say to Huson as he parks his horse behind me.

  ‘Sixty soldiers and two Pretorian Guards.’ He sharply replies.

  Outnumbered and possibly outclassed. I have the Outriders, some garrison soldiers from the capital and the faithful’s greatest warriors. A frontal fight can’t work; we’ll only lose. I need something, a strategy to get past them.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ Huson says as he notices my silence.

  ‘We don’t have time to hide while they march past us, and we can’t confront them head-on.’ I turn to the scouts. ‘They are following the road, yes? What is the path like?’

  ‘Conditions are good, it’s only lightly covered in snow. The Dogs are heading towards a sharp bend on the road. Which, from a glance, is dense in vegetation.’

  Okay, that is something I can work with. A good ambush position if there is one. I turn towards the Pretorian Guard and point at their Light Spears. ‘I heard there are other firing modes. What are their capabilities?’

  They seem hesitant to give out information about their holy weapon freely. Yet with the danger coming and the seriousness of what failure will be certain if we don’t fight. They have no other choice but to speak.

  The senior guard gives in and replies to me. ‘We have three firing modes: we have the regular lethal beam that fires a shot every two seconds. The second one is more of a stun feature; we only use that during training. The last one is, let’s just say we prefer to never use it for a reason.’

  ‘If we are going to win this, I need to know.’

  The senior huffs, as if to say it is a weakness or a fault of a holy weapon. ‘The last firing setting is a continuous beam, capable of vaporising anything. However, it takes time to charge up, it can only fire at a hundred meters for thirty seconds, and once it is fired, the weapon is deactivated. Meaning it can’t fire again, and the blade is as dull as a butter knife for a whole day. Don’t expect any use out of it.’

  Far from it, it is something to factor in. The road is good to conduct an ambush, though so far we are limited in manpower, and the Dogs have the advantage in having those crossbows. I know the Dogs are marching on the road, and I will assume they are in a line of some sort. So, I need to stun them, strike hard, and finish off any stragglers.

  ‘Huson!’ He faces me at attention, ready to follow my orders in a heartbeat. ‘I need twenty men to hide with me in the forest overlooking the road. Once the Dogs are in position, we will fire our signal bombs to disorient them.’ I point at the guards, ‘you two will hide at the end of the bend. As soon as we fire on them, I need you both to fire the spears on the last setting and cut down any and every Dog in front of you. Then disengage so the rest of the soldiers under Huson will charge in on horseback and pick off any survivors. Questions?’

  The senior glances at their subordinate before facing me once more. ‘One spear firing will be enough, other than that I’ll do what you suggested.’

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Good, at least I have them going to follow my orders.

  Huson dons his helm and turns to the soldiers, barking orders to get them in formation. This is it, my first battle of the year as a General. The success of the war and of my leadership will correlate with the success of this ambush. It is not just a necessary moral boost, but a necessary move to legitimise my position as an Army General.

  Olivia eyes me, clearly scared of what to do. Damn it! I forgot about her. I can’t leave her with anyone, nor can I keep her with me during the battle. She will only make things complicated if I have her hang around me.

  ‘Listen to me, I need someone to look after the horses. Just watch them and don’t leave. You can draw them in your book if you want to. But no matter what, you will stay with them!’

  Olivia nods to me, giving me the okay. I hop off my horse before helping Olivia down. Leading my steed to a tree to tie it down. Olivia, without any instructions, sits down on a log facing the large creatures and begins to draw. This is an act of trust; for all I know, she can escape when no one is looking. In a way, I hope she does; maybe she can run off and join her own people. To at least be welcomed by them, besides being under my care. To think I want her to run to the enemy! Yet again, war brings out the strangest wishes and wants in all of our hearts.

  I shake my head to clear my head, marching to where I need to be. Some of the soldiers lit up their fire sticks before laying out the signal bombs next to them on the ground for easy access. I help them out with the last of the preparations; every little thing counts. We have to win this.

  For now, however, we wait. Sitting behind trees and shrubs while the enemy approaches our position, wielding weapons that can tear us to shreds. Some soldiers pray in silence, others are reminiscent with their personal trinkets or memorabilia. No one wants to talk to each other, because right now is a moment of privacy and a moment to say goodbye.

  My breath becomes heavy, my hands formed together to make a prayer, my icy breath blowing onto my black and gold armour. I try to figure out who I should send my prayer towards, and if they will listen to me. Yet no deity comes to mind, not even Rinda, the God of War. I suppose deep down, I don’t deserve to have my prayer heard by the likes of Gods. Not after I destroyed a webgate, their great gift to my people. No, it is best that I keep it to myself. I don’t deserve their attention.

  The rattle of armour echoes in the distance, and we all dig ourselves deeper in the snow to prevent ourselves from being spotted. The Dogs march on the road in a long column with crossbows on hand. They eye around the area, expecting to face any foe that comes their way. If only their vigilance can save them.

  One soldier grabs a signal bomb, I raise my hand to tell him to let them continue marching. We want to hit their centre, the heart of their formation.

  I peer over the log, staring directly at the Dogs. They’ll have to be about a few meters away from me; I can practically smell them from where I am. Their armour clacks and clings. With every step, they frustratedly beat the clumps of snow off their fur.

  Then, they get into position.

  With the fire stick, I light one of the signal bombs and launch it at the Dogs. My soldiers follow my example, using their slingshots to fling the harmless device. Though even if it is harmless, it works! The Dogs panic as the blinding light and crack of bombs force some of them to stop where they are and to shield their eyes and cover their ears. Some prematurely fire their crossbows in random directions, some even striking and killing their comrades.

  We keep launching the signal bombs into their flanks, preventing their recovery. Sowing the seeds of chaos and distraction. To buy time for the two Pretorian Guards to emerge from their spot. The youngest rests the end of his spear on their shoulder, the curved blade red hot with energy. The heat must be unbearable, as the snow under the blade melts.

  I squint, my eyes stings as a ray of light cuts through everything it touches. Snow bursts into steam, trees and plants caught in the ray cracks and morphs into ash, black iron instantly turns to molten slag with a subtle scourge of light, and flesh and bone sear and erupt into flame before it vaporises into a puff of crimson smoke. The young guard waves the light from side to side, slaughtering dozens of Dogs. All the Dogs can do is scream. The survivors are either smart enough to duck to the ground or unfortunate enough to only graze the ray of light. Exposing half of their bodies to unbearable heat and turning to char.

  Thirty seconds. All it takes is thirty seconds for the beam to suddenly die. Half a minute, and it is all over. The devastation brought upon the Dogs is decisive and clear. Their battle is lost.

  The young guard falls back so their mentor can take their place with their spear at the ready. Firing at any Dog foolish enough to take a stand. Instead, none of them do.

  ‘Fuck this! I’m not going out like that!’ One Dog throws their crossbow to the side while they raise their hands in the air. ‘I surrender!’ Other Dogs follow their example, throwing their arms away so they can raise their hands in the air. Frightened and bewildered at the horror that has just happened.

  I tell a runner to alert Huson that he won’t be necessary, but be prepared, for we have prisoners. With my war hammer in one hand, I walk over with the remainder of my soldiers to inspect the Dogs to see if they are true to their word. The dead litter the road, and there is barely any blood as their wounds either vaporise or are cauterised. Either way, I refuse to expect the corpses to find out which is the case.

  Some are somehow alive, even if their lower half is severed from their body. They reach out to me, barely able to utter a word as they groan and wince in unimaginable pain. They want to die, a quick death to end their suffering. A humane act, mercy to an enemy undeserving. No, they won’t have any. They dare to stand against the Empire; they shall suffer its consequences. I shall grant them a slow death.

  Though what shocks me is the smell, the cooked flesh of the Dogs reminds me of an unkept bakery where meat pies are overcooked and poorly seasoned. One should expect something horrible. Instead, it is somewhat pleasant, in a weird way.

  Twelve, only twelve Dogs survived the attack unharmed. All shaking in terror, even more so, only twenty Cinair approach them with weapons to detain them. The rest are a pile of corpses, their blood mixing with snow.

  ‘I accept your surrender! Under the orders of her majesty, you will follow my instructions. Make the wrong move, and I will order your execution. Do I make myself clear?’

  They look at each other before nodding to me like begging sheep. ‘We understand.’

  Good, the battle is over, and we can move on as quickly as possible. Speaking of which. Huson and the rest of the force gallop to me, their weapons drawn.

  ‘That was quick.’ He jokingly remarks as he waves to his soldiers to tie the Dogs up and seize their weapons and gear.

  ‘Yeah, it was quick.’ I coldly reply while heading back to my horse. While it is good to have a victory, it will be better to deal with the important issue at hand. The appointment of a new Commander. This will be a good story to tell and inspire our troops. A victory worth sharing.

  As I head back to get my horse alongside my soldiers. Olivia blissfully sketched in her book. An odd and conflicted feeling washes over me, in a way I hate to see her there and didn’t take the opportunity to escape. However, it is good to see her safe at least. Even better, she seems to not have heard the screams and battle miles away from here.

  With a gentle nudge of the shoulder, I jolt her back to reality. ‘Come on, we’re leaving.’

  She responds with a warming smile before shoving her equipment back into her bag. When she’s on the horse, we continue our journey like nothing happened. Following the road and treading through the bodies of her people. My soldiers celebrate the capture and quick slaughter of those fighting for her freedom. If she even understands or knows what they are fighting for. What she can understand is that those people are like her, dead and on the ground. Their flesh smoking, and the half-dead ones twitch and groan in agony, begging for an end to their suffering. Even if she can look away or close her eyes, she can’t escape the smell.

  Olivia tries to hold herself together, trying not to make a sound at the sight of gore before her. Huffing and skipping a few breaths. Then, she finally breaks. Her senses are overpowered by the horror of war. Olivia drops her book and pencil, landing on a puddle of blood with a loud slush so she can pull her shirt up to cover her face to sob. Alone, and afraid. I can’t reassure her, not in front of my own soldiers. To comfort what they consider the enemy will only make a terrible situation a lot worse.

  I’m a fool, a moron for bringing her here. I shouldn’t have brought her with me, yet deep down I know that isn’t the option. My soldiers are kind enough to pick up what she let go, but the damages are already done. I scared her. Any child will be hugged and told that all will be alright. She can’t have that. She will never have kindness. All I can do is promise safety, but it isn’t enough.

  It never will be…