--- Roric

It was a cold, cold winter.

Roric spent those months assisting the priest best he could, and tried to improve his swordsmanship whenever he had the time. Without anyone to spar with, however, judging his own progress was painfully hard. So, the young recruit just ended up exercising till he dropped, hoping that his desperate effort would pay off in the end.

Meanwhile, the war went on. The commander led his forces in two other battles, always managing to repel the invaders despite the great cost in terms of human lives. Finally, when the snow melted, rumours of a final enemy assault began spreading among the defenders. The men of Ekhar, while being strong and resilient, weren't immune to fatigue the almost restless fighting had obviously harmed their morale and their desires of conquest. Not to mention that every battle they lost was bound to hurt the prestige of their viceroy.

Spring came, and on a chilly morning Roric decided that it was finally time to ask Ugrin for a second test. Being twelve now, his body was starting to change. Wielding the sword wasn't as hard as before, and from his own judgment the young boy could clearly see that he had gotten faster too.

"Feel ready now, kid?" asked the instructor, skeptically. "To be honest, I thought you were too busy stitching people together with the priest to exercise properly."

"I trained a lot during the winter, Captain," said Roric. "It was the only way I had to keep up with the others if I intend to reach their level."

"Good mentality," stated the man. "Let's meet up at the ring. I'll be back with your opponent in a short while."

"What? I thought I was just fighting you, this time. The others are..."

With a cruel grin, Ugrin left him alone. As he patiently waited near the weapon racks, the recruit became a little anxious. He had a vague idea of what that demanding captain had in store for his final trial and knew it wouldn't be a walk in the park, but during those months he had always tried not to think about it too much. His only focus was on improving his abilities.

That was why he went pale when he saw the instructor coming back with Meran, his face already split by his trademark sadistic smile.

It had to be him, right? Crap...

Since the day he had joined the company, everything had been leading to that crucible. The boy braced himself, while his opponent took place on the other side of the ring.

"I knew you wouldn't like this," laughed Ugrin. "Meran is the perfect guy for this job. He might be an idiot, but his skills are real."

Roric gulped, grabbing an iron sword.

Don't panic. You can do this.

"My skills have improved as well," he said. "Let's start."

"Show me what you've learned, then," ordered the captain. "Prove that your level is on par with his, and you'll be considered a warrior."

"He? On the same level as me? Bullshit," growled Meran, spitting on the ground. "You'll bite the dust in no time, weakling. Just like a year ago."

The two stood against each other, weapons ready. Roric had trained enough to know that his fight would have been less strenuous now than the last time. The problem was the amount of experience the other boy had gathered on the field, because he wasn’t someone who liked to spend his time idly. So at first the recruit assumed a defensive stance, observing his opponent’s moves. Meran answered to this attitude with a grim expression, the same that he always used to scare him when they sparred together before.

That day, however, was different. Roric was almost eager to fight, after long months of tireless work, to test out his own progress. And that thought alone was enough to win out against his fear of Meran, who had basically been his nemesis since the start.

"Fight!" yelled Ugrin.

"Come here, kid!" roared the other boy. "I'll beat you to a pulp!"

Roric saw him jump forward, his sword raised overhead and held with both hands. Still, every step seemed so slow. Meran’s movements were now crystal clear, and perfectly predictable. With a speed that he would have thought impossible during their last fight, the young recruit tilted his own blade and intercepted the swing, stepping towards his opponent with an horizontal strike.

Meran dodged by a hair, and his expression was priceless. His mouth opened, like he wanted to taunt him, but no sound came out. Suddenly stripped of his smug attitude the young mercenary rushed for another attack, his weapon moving left and right, but Roric kept parrying and evading. Feeling for the first time like he was fighting for real, he smiled. He was still too slow and inexperienced to get on the offensive, but he knew that Meran became reckless when he was frustrated.

"It can't be!" he hissed, face red from embarrassment. "I'm going to kill you!"

The boy charged forward like a bull but Ugrin grabbed him from the side, pushing him back.

"Cool your heels, young man," said the instructor, turning to face Roric. "Well done, Roric. From what I can see you are skilled enough."

What? Did I... Already?

The recruit remained there, staring blankly.

"Hey, wake up," insisted the man. "You did it. You still have much to learn, and Meran would probably have killed you in a real fight... But your improvement is remarkable. You are in."

"It's not possible," grumbled the other boy. "Training alone, no less!"

"As I said multiple times, he only had to put enough work into it," answered Ugrin. "You should learn a thing or two from his determination, you blockhead."

While the two went on rambling, Roric's eyes filled with tears and he fell to his knees, crying with joy.

I did it... I really did it!

"Now that's more like you. A few kind words and you'll whine like a girl," commented Meran, then he spat once again and went back towards the camp.

The captain sighed, following him with his eyes.

"Such potential. It's a shame that all he cares about is bullying others," he observed. "All you needed to do was train harder and you closed the gap substantially because he didn't expect it."

"Wait, you... Already knew that I would beat him?"

"His spite towards you blinds him. Once you faced him with a clear head, there was no way for you to lose like before."

"Really?" asked the boy, wiping his face. "During the fight, I was barely able to keep up."

"Yeah, and he'll soon be fifteen. At this rate, when you're his age you are going to be much better than him."

Getting praised by that man felt weird, but Roric couldn't help but smiling.

"Don't get excited, now. You still have a long way to go," said the instructor. "I'm going to have a talk with the commander. Have a toast with your friends, if you want. You've earned it."

He tossed a shiny object and the boy caught it in the air. It was a small silver coin, enough to feast at the tavern for several hours.

***

--- Tolwin

When his assistant came to him with the wonderful news, Tolwin let out a sigh of relief.

The boy was literally mad with joy, finally being the same as the other former recruits. Frauli and Demios dropped by some time later, dragging him towards the town to celebrate his success. They invited the priest too, but he kindly refused because he had other stuff to do. That day, in fact, he had been called again to the castle to deal with the usual trivial illness that one of the courtiers had turned into an existential tragedy.

Tolwin entered Sinen, lit by the sun of the late afternoon, bringing a tonic he had specifically made. He planned to stay as little as possible, delivering the medicine and quickly get out. While he went through the gateway, he glanced at the massive gates and shivered. Time had surely left many signs on the wooden surface, and the damage caused by the old ram strokes had been completely repaired. What was still there, on the other hand, were the traces dug by the nails of the peasants who desperately tried to get inside during the previous invasion. The scratches covered the lower half of the gate and at a first look seemed like simple wear, but knowing what they were made them much more disturbing. The old count had always left them untouched, to show that the Lord of Sinen wasn’t afraid of sacrificing his people when he deemed it necessary.

What a disgraceful man. And his daughter isn't any better, seeing that she just doesn't care about this. No wonder Lowan hates them so much.

The old priest nervously walked through the corridors, reaching his patient’s room in a matter of minutes. It was empty, obviously, and there wasn’t any sign of the man who claimed to be critically ill. Sighing, he left the tonic and some instructions on a table. Just as he was about to get back, however, he heard some voices coming his way. Instinctively, Tolwin disappeared behind the door without making a single sound, leaving it barely open in order to listen.

Countess Leanna and her right arm, the shady Charsa, were in the middle of a lively argument. For some reason, they stopped just a few meters away from his hidden spot, completely unaware of his presence.

"My Lady, with all due respect, I think we should wait for-"

"Respect? The only thing you respect is my coin, you dog," replied the woman. "We only have a single chance left and I won't waste it."

"It's too risky," whined the man. "The clans are impatient, their men tired and our defenses still too sturdy. At this rate, they'll think that there's something wrong with our deal."

What are they talking about? A deal?

Tolwin held his breath, careful not to be discovered. He was definitely hearing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Tell them that it's almost time," ordered Leanna. "We only need their patience to last a little more, then we'll be free to get rid of them."

The old priest almost felt Charsa gulping.

"I... I don't like this, my Lady," he babbled. "What about your brother? If he somehow discovers this ploy, we are finished... And since the dinner you two had, he already showed that-"

"Screw that pathetic idealist! If you don't have the guts for this work, go and find another castle," stated the countess. "You know there's something to gain for you here. That's the way you scoundrels think, am I right?"

The man didn't dare to reply. Her steps echoed through the corridor, getting away from the room where the priest was hidden.

"Do as I say," she repeated, from the distance. "And at the end of this story you'll be a rich man."

Charsa sighed, but answered in a resolute tone, "As you command, my Lady."

Their voices faded and disappeared. A few moments later Tolwin was rushing outside of the castle, headed towards Lowan's pavilion where he and his lieutenants were holding a meeting.

***

When he entered the tent without even waiting for the guard to say he was allowed in, Tolwin almost crashed into Palander's back. Only he, the commander and Wals were present, as all the others had probably already gone away.

"Tolwin," Lowan greeted him. "What happened? Is someone-"

"Your sister..." panted the old man. "She has betrayed us, I'm certain of it. She has a hidden plan and a deal with someone. I overheard her and Charsa talking about the clans like the entire thing was just a setup."

"A setup?" stepped in Wals. "A setup for what?"

"I don't know! The only thing they said was something about Ekhar, about riches of some sort."

Meanwhile the commander had become pale like a ghost. He stood up and invited Tolwin to sit in his place.

"I'll grab some wine. Tell me everything you know."

So, over the next half hour, the priest gave a detailed recap of hat he had accidentally seen at the castle. When he reached the end of the story, Lowan was already marching back and forth across the pavilion while the other two just stood there, in silence.

He was right about his sister. All this time, she has been playing with us.. But what's her goal in all this?

"You have my thanks, old friend," admitted the commander. "Since our dinner, I started to doubt Leanna once again but always felt guilty about it... Now I see that it was the right call. At this point, in the worst case scenario, we have to assume that the enemy knows about all our moves."

"You really... Mean it?" said Wals. "We don't know if the countess-"

"For all we know," interrupted Palander. "She might have contacts inside the clans that pass information to our opponents. The reason, for now, is still a mystery."

"Thanks to the Makers, however, we had a backup plan," commented Lowan.

The two lieutenants turned to face him.

"Commander... I thought we were to keep this as secret as possible."

"I trust Tolwin," replied the man. "I didn't want to involve you, my friend, but now it seems that it's become unavoidable."

The priest thought about it for a few moments, and then answered.

"Fine. Tell me more."

"As I was saying, after the dinner I couldn't help but wonder if Leanna would have ever waited for my approval to put her plan of conquest in motion. And the answer I ended up with was a definite no," explained Lowan. "For that reason, during the last six months I made it so she had no direct access to any vital information. The reports from our scouts, the routes taken by the army, the resources we had at our disposal... I told her the bare minimum in order to prevent her from becoming suspicious. I don't know if we would have won the battles after Mublas without this strategy."

"So, you are saying that Leanna is secretly working with Ekhar? But... No, it's impossible. She wouldn't go that far, the Republic would claim her head. Plus, losing this war would mean-"

"Losing this land? Yes, that's what she probably wants. Do you really think that if things went horribly wrong she would just hide in her castle, like my father did? My sister isn't that dumb. She would probably use it at her advantage instead."

"By fleeing South as a loser. With her claim on Sinen intact, the invaders threatening the entire country and her valorous brother dead," added Wals. "Everyone would aid her, at that point. Marching on Ekhar in retaliation would only be the next step."

"She is overconfident, however," commented Lowan. "Invading Ekhar would be a suicide. Not to mention the huge sacrifice her plan would require."

Palander slammed his punch on the table.

"Let's arrest her, then. Throw that witch to rot in a cell. I said it since the very first moment, Lowan, the idea of letting your sister-"

"No, that would be counterproductive," replied the commander. "She is a traitor, it's true, but we need her men. The war wouldn't end in our favor without the support of the castle."

"So, what do we do?" asked Tolwin, who had only listened up to that point.

Lowan faced them all, his eyes full of resolve.

"We are going to give her a taste of her own medicine, and deceive her. I don't know what her deal with the clans is, but she probably plans to get rid of them in some way after they've served their purpose. That's why she wants us to fight recklessly. Because she wants the next battle to be the last."

Tolwin nodded, and Wals took his head between his hands.

"The scouts who spread that word were..."

"Yeah, they came from Charsa's garrison. It's clear that our dear former mercenary is really knee-deep into this story."

"I had already figured that, but I need to ask it. Do you have a plan?" said Tolwin. "Even if we don't know what cards your sister is going to play?"

"Don't worry. I have a few ideas," confirmed the commander. "No matter what happens, we'll win this war from under her nose."