The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow on the landscape as Kentraes and Halais navigated the winding paths through the mountain pass.
The air felt heavy with unspoken tension, each hoofbeat of their horses echoing the uncertain fate that awaited them
Kentraes pondered Halais's words, her disillusionment with the ideals he had upheld throughout his service. The ideals of honor and equality were like beacons in the dark for him, to hear someone blatantly disregard them left a bitter taste in his mouth.
As they approached the rendezvous point, he sought to break the silence that had settled over them.
"What brought you to fight for the Republic, Halais?" Kentraes asked, with genuine curiosity.
Halais glanced upward, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Same as any other, I suppose. Life in Velon-Ril wasn't what the stories said it would be. Joined the Republic to escape the poverty of city life."
Kentraes nodded, understanding the allure of the Republic as a land of opportunity for those disillusioned with Velon-Ril and the old system. Yet, Halais's words lingered, a reminder that the ideals of the Republic might not shine as brightly for everyone.
As they reached the rendezvous point, they found Sir Lerae Sordin and the others gathered under the shadow of the mountains. The general approached, his eyes flickering with a mix of relief and apprehension.
"Good, you made it," Lerae acknowledged. We need to move swiftly and gather intelligence before the strike."
The urgency in Lerae's voice reminded Kentraes of their mission's severity.
The group, now reunited, continued their journey through the mountain pass, the terrain becoming increasingly rugged.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, they reached a vantage point overlooking the valley below. Torer lay nestled in the landscape, a humble settlement surrounded by rolling hills. The town's buildings were nearly all wooden, just one third-circle pyromancer would spell doom for its inhabitants. The weight of this knowledge left Kentraes hollow.
"We camp here for the night," Lerae declared. "We'll descend at dawn to gather information. Kentraes, Halais, scout the outskirts. We need to know the town's numbers and account for any troops stationed here."
The duo set out on foot, leaving the camp behind. The night concealed them like a shroud, and the distant flickering of torches in Torer hinted at life unfolding within its low walls.
Kentraes' scouting revealed no clues as to the deposits' whereabouts. They had circled the town and counted three gates and two guard towers yet no signs of additional troops.
Halais had gone to report to Lerae leaving Kentraes to prepare his camp for the night yet sleep alluded him. Guilt clawed at his insides, would he be able to live with himself if he condemned these innocent lives to death?
The mission was clear—find the location of the rebel-held grain deposits. Yet, innocent lives hung in the balance, and the price of failure was measured in suffering and death.
A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Trouble sleeping oh honorable one?" It was Halais, her presence emerging from the shadows.
Kentraes sighed, not attempting to mask his inner conflict. "The weight of these decisions... it's heavier than any blade I've ever carried."
"Oh, so you're a poet too," Halais said as she sat beside him, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "We're soldiers, Kentraes. Sometimes, we have to make choices that are far from honorable."
"I joined the Republic to fight for freedom, for something better. This mission feels like a betrayal of those ideals," he confessed, his voice heavy with regret.
Halais placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a silent gesture of understanding. "War has a way of twisting ideals. We play our part in the grand scheme, but that doesn't mean we have to lose ourselves entirely."
The night wore on, the camp shrouded in heavy silence, interrupted only by the distant sounds of the sleeping town, while Kentraes and Halais remained by the dwindling fire.
As the first light of dawn painted the sky, Lerae gathered the soldiers for the final briefing. Kentraes stood among them.
"We move now," Lerae declared. "There's only a dozen guards at most, we'll storm the eastern gate on horseback and then split up and search for the grain storages. After we dispose of them the nearest pyromancer will light a flare signalling our retreat. Remember, the success of this mission is crucial. The future of the Republic depends on us."
The soldiers dispersed, preparing for the imminent assault. Kentraes felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. He stole a glance at Halais, then Tiernan, finding little comfort in the murderous eyes of his comrades.
General Sordin lowered his visor and drew his sword, he hesitated then forced himself to speak, "Charge!"
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Cycle of the Stars
الخيال (فانتازيا)The flames of civil war, the intrigue of court politics, and the wonder of arcane magic, this is the cycle of the stars.
