They were a sorry sight as they entered into the military encampment: the line of broken vehicles and shattered men. The wounded vehicles towing the husks of their dead brethren, some still with the traces of smoke, as if the last of their souls have not yet exited their corpses. The personnel were a similar story, though their dead were buried in the woods where they fell, thus leaving the living, wounded and otherwise, to contemplate the aftermath.

Then again, the encampment wasn’t in that great of a shape either: a series of hastily built wooden structures surrounding an equally hastily packed dirt field. That by itself wasn’t anything unusual, field fortifications being the temporary affairs they are supposed to be. The actual matter at hand though, was the drab atmosphere. It was the sum of its details, a flood of minute things that on their own warrant no attention, but collectively they cried out in despair.

All in all making it [relative] safety did little to raise the spirits of the levies of the Clarke estate.

……​

“If this is a joke, now would be your last chance to admit to it.” Earl Marshal Kurt looked at the disheveled figure of Walter with open contempt and disdain. The ragtag group of scum and misery shambling into his camp was far less than the promised reinforcements that he was promised. While he knew better than to expect what he was promised in full, to expect something to work with was at least within the bounds of reason…

“The widow who gave her last coin gave more than the rich lavished their spending money.” Walter blurted out, much to his own surprise. The shards were getting worse, sometimes taking over at the most inappropriate of times. Fuck, he has no idea where in the universe the shards ever nabbed that rhetorical flourish from, because he sure as heck didn’t learn anything like that from his years of his education, or if he did it was promptly discarded and forgotten.

“Intentions mean nothing without results!” Kurt roared. Walter barely flinched, whether due to existing exhaustion, resignation, or something else not even he himself could tell. “Your word is piss for all the good that it does, and your excuses even less!”

“Then give us the chance to die with honor.” Walter replied, with an air of exhaustion. For once his mind was not nudged on by the shards. If anything the shards were more than a bit unnerved by the possibility of dying… again? Or at least dying in a potentially painful fashion this second time around…

“You are already disgraced without hope, just get the hell out of my sight and be useful in the way of the peasants that you are!” With a wave of his hand he sent Walter out of the command hut.

Even as he trudged out the door and into the courtyard the sting of the marshal came back in full force as the smoke of the ruined vehicles in the distance came across his sight.

“You’ll get used to that.” An oddly familiar female voice muttered behind him. As Walter turned around he saw her: a blond that even the shards in his head admit is beautiful, and the shards (as far as he’s aware) weren’t affected by the temptations of the flesh so to speak, which begs the question of what metric the shards were using to make its judgment…

“Used to what?” He asked, not really believing the platitudes that he expects to come out of her mouth. It’s the same meaningless words, uttered more to reassure oneself than to soothe the recipient.

“Used to the fact that your best effort isn’t enough.” She replied in a much clearer voice, taking him by surprise. “Oh, I haven’t introduced myself yet. Therese Albrecht, the kriegmeister who saved you and what’s left of your convoy.”

“Thanks for saving our hides I guess.” Walter mumbled as the name reminded him of something.. “Hold up, aren’t you-” He asked before she cut him off.

“The crown prince took a fancy to some newcomer, and I incurred his wrath when trying to make him realize the political consequences of his notions of romantic love taking precedence-”

“Sorry, you were fated to lose that one.” Walter blurted out, to Therese’s surprise. Once again the shards called out things like they were (in this case whatever that happens to be, Walter himself has no idea really) with total disregard for tact or politeness. After a moment of awkward silence Therese responded.

“Valid. Blunt, but probably valid.” She conceded with a frown. “I’m also assuming that mouth of yours is the reason you are also here then?”

“I guess.” Walter shrugged. “What do you mean though, being here for a reason?” He asked, realizing there’s something that he might not be aware of.

“Penance for transgressions. That’s all of us really, even the old marshal himself in there.” She said, pointing a finger at the command hut he had exited earlier. “Everyone here has done something that could not be merely forgiven or forgotten, but our ingrained loyalties meant that it would be a waste to simply dispose of us akin to common criminals.”

“Even the common levies?” Walter asked. Therese stopped for a moment again, before replying in a quieter voice.

“Not them.” She said in a somewhat reluctant voice, seemingly more annoyed than anything. Whether from her own forgetfulness or the expected dismissal of the masses he couldn’t tell.

“And they’ll be the ones who will suffer the most.” He simply said. Therese narrowed her eyes.

“And you actually care?” She asked, suspecting the intentions behind his words. Walter doesn’t blame her, nobody above them cared for the masses of peasants: at best they’re seen as slightly lower than that of the animal herds, while the more detached of the nobles sees them as a necessary eyesore for their lifestyles. It has been that way since the day before forever, and so were the occasional outburst of seething rage from the masses to their overlords. For the most part though most peasants simply didn’t care, as the matter was so far above the plane of existence in which they could do anything about it.

“It takes one to know one.” Walter spat back, once again the shards taking over the dialogue to the detriment of the conversation. It’s not even as if the shards were a peasant in a past life, that much he was pretty sure of. Worse is that he sort of empathizes with those lunatic ramblings at times, whether due to the similarity in personalities of the both of them or something else he also could not tell. It’s just maddening like that.

Therese waved a hand, as if to dismiss the tangent. “This isn’t making any headway, nor helping in solving any of our crises.” She said, dragging the conversation back to where she wanted to be. All that talk of the peasantry was rather uncomfortable, to put it mildly. It felt like a personal attack to her character.

She shook her head to clear those thoughts. Now’s not the time to be obsessed over the personal, not to mention it was that kind of thinking that was part of what got her in the current predicament in the first place.

“I might have an idea, but you will probably not like it.” Walter said. Therese raised an eyebrow.

“Say it then, this isn’t the time to tease about it.” She said curtly, not having the patience for the indirect ways of communication that’s one the hallmarks of the imperial court. She could play the game as well as anyone, but here far away from civilization there’s preciously little tolerance for that.

“Wrecks are plentiful here aren’t they?” Walter asked. “Especially heavy weapons now without a mount?”

“Yes?” Therese wasn’t sure where this line of inquiry was going. At least he seems direct enough…

“Then we mount them out the tracks.” He simply said, as if it’s just that simple. “A fighting chance to die a meaningful death.”

“Oh great, you actually have a death wish.” Therese groaned. But it’s not that bad an idea.

Undignified, sure. Stupid? Certainly. Humiliating? Obvious.

But there’s no harm in letting the fool do that. The worst thing that could happen is his death, and that’s what he wants. No, what he needs.