They had marched for days; double file, an endless line of soldiers of the Empire. Or at least, soldiers of Hearth. That was how it was now, an Empire no longer united in peace. Civil war was not the cause that Edus had in mind to enlist, yet what could he do?

Desertion was met with hanging. Fredric’s words echoed in Edus’ mind. We’re not ready, not in one year of training. Not in ten years. They had barely finished one month of basic training. What chance did they have against veterans like Grizwald? Now they were marching to join the war’s front.

He marched beside their grizzled Revus (captain), having promoted him to Ventura, replacing Grizwald should he fall in battle. Their Revus was a league of his own among his peers. Learning the ways of the army Edus had learned that Revien were mostly selected from the nobleborn, almost all having never seen battle. They were chosen with ties of blood to the Sigmarien (officers) that were also noble born. Nepotism bordering on corruption ran deep into the army's structure.

When they camped at night Grizwald would continue to train them in formations and battle tactics, making everyone repeat them together word for word while sitting beside the fire. Theirs was a comradeship that Edus noticed was absent among the other squads, for all held their captain with respect. Even more was a hope that burned as the fire they prepared each night, their Revus the spark needed to light it aflame. The hope that perhaps they would survive this war under his leadership.

It was an arduous race over who would claim the Middenfort, the center of the Empire. Whoever held the fort controlled passage to all four Kingdoms. Whoever held the fort held the key to winning the civil war.

When the Accords were struck, years before Edus had been born, it was decreed that Hearth would hold the Middenfort. There a permanent garrison of a thousand troops guarded the great fort, a city in itself. Now it was under siege by Raul’s legions, and they marched on to reinforce the beleaguered city.

Corro, ever the rumormonger whispered of the fates of the legions that were at the Green Pass. There were no reports on what had befallen the legions of the other Kingdoms stationed there, only hearsay of dark notions that all ended with death.

They traveled down the main road, a long winding path of cobbled stone barren of passerby. The farms had long disappeared, drifting between wide sloping hills to flat swathes of grassland.

Edus’ feet were now hardened with calluses from the continual rigors of forced march. He felt muscles in his back and legs that had never grown before to such size and strength despite his years of toil farming, and Edus moved with even more vigor than before.

Perhaps it’s the food, Edus thought. He had properly eaten and more for over a month now, coupled with moving a five stoned pack at his back while wearing two stoned heavy armor. Now, however, he felt as if the armor was weightless as the clothes he wore underneath; the pack he carried along his tower shield barely a stone in burden.

Stranger still was his newfound endurance, finding a day’s march to be a brisk walk compared to his squad mates (save for Grizwald) who were long past weary and struggled to keep the seemingly grueling pace. The army seemed stagnant but Edus would follow their speed.

The suns seemed to warm Edus to the touch more so than ever as their rays hit his exposed skin. A tingling ice cold burning that lingered and spread throughout his entire body. If Edus could he would have taken off his helm just to feel more of this curious sensation brought about by the suns.

By afternoon they set up camp once more; flat open land next to a sapling forest on the other side of the road. Edus, Sven and Saul trekked through the forest alongside other soldiers to hunt and forage. Dappled yellowed teardrop shaped leaves littered the ground. The earthy scent of wet foliage filled the air so heavily Edus could taste it. Everywhere was pulpy wet, his boots squelching in the earth.

“There hasn’t been civil war since King Alexander’s reign,” Sven muttered. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“None of us did,” Saul said, snapping a good sized branch with both hands. “To kill a fellow man is one of the greater evils.”

“Yes, yes, and the Mythic themselves will cast us out from the afterlife into the void, left to wander forever,” Sven brushed off his brother’s superstition with a wave of his hand. “Tell that to all the Reunification veterans. Whether or not we’ll be damned in the afterlife, we’re damned right now.”

Edus already held an armful of branches and grabbed several more that had fallen on the wet ground.

“We do what we’ve been trained for,” Edus said quietly. “And follow Grizwald’s orders.”

“Grizwald is just one man,” Sven replied. “We’ve been pulled out before even finishing basic training. Whaddya reckon we’re gonna be? We’re fodder, just more bodies to throw into the front line.”

“Queen Lyssa has declared her claim to the High Throne,” Edus said. “Do you reckon she will not march forth upon our lands and sack our homes? We’re back to the times before the Reunification. If we win this war, we save our people from all the things Fredric foretold.” From such dark fates, Edus thought, wondering of his mother, defenseless and alone.

“Edus is right,” Saul spoke firmly. “Have some backbone brother. We fight not just for our lives, but our village as well. Whaddya reckon will happen should the war reach Darbishby?”

“I’m no coward,” Sven retorted sharply. “I’m no fool either. Hearth has more than enough troops already staggered past our borders. Why should green recruits not even passed basic training be sent to the front?”

They all knew the answer. That Hearth may well be losing the war, but no one dared say it. They returned back to the camp in silence. Already a watch of patrol squads stood guarding the encampment’s perimeter.

Grizwald nodded at their arrival. Their tent was already standing, wide enough for all eight of them to sleep on its floor side by side.

“Sven give me the tinder,” Grizwald said absentmindedly. “Mikaal and Fredric, get the rations for our supper.”

Mikaal took the dull rounded black iron legged pot resting on the mildewed grass and they walked briskly off. Everyone was weary (at least the rest of Edus’ squad) and hungry from the pressed march.

Edus took a swig from his leather canteen and watched Grizwald place the sticks and tinder that they had gathered inside a large handleless round iron pan. Watch and learn, he had said to them. Edus had kindled many a fire but he remained silent. Grizwald struck two sparkstones together. The tinder glowed and the giant of a man blew gently to ignite the fire.

Fredric and Mikaal returned, gripping the great pot at either side of its handles. They waded through with cumbersome movements, for they were careful to not let any of its liquid contents slosh out, and stood its legs over the shallow nest of firewood. Smoke soon rose as the stew bubbled its course, browning the water with the chunks of meat and potatoes floating to the surface.

They each took out their own bowls and spoons kept in their backpacks and sat round the fire. Sven played his flute, of which he had improved upon since the days of their march. The notes hung in the air raggedly and struggled to take flight, but it was a better tune than before as he played A Soldier’s March.

“Can’t you think of another song?” His brother grumbled, to which Sven replied smartly with, “Feck off.”

He eventually changed to another song, an ancient song brought over from the holy lands, and the squad sang along:

I wanna go

I know I can't stay

But I don't want to run

Feeling this way

Til I am myself

Til I am myself

Til I am myself again

There's a seat on the corner

I keep every night

Wait til the evening begins

I feel like a stranger

From another world

But at least I'm living again

Corro sang with a surprising voice higher than them all, while Grizwald’s deep bass kept it all grounded. Night had crept upon them like a blindfolded animal unaware of its slaughter as they waited for their supper to cook through. They would not eat until Grizwald had his say.

Eat raw meat and you were likely to eat it with worms. They would live inside you and gnaw at you from your insides, he had said. Edus had shuddered at the thought. Better to cook the meat through so any worms would melt to join with the stew.

Grizwald eyed the bubbling cauldron and announced, “Supper’s ready.”

The captain scooped stew with a blackened wooden ladle into each of their presented bowls before filling his own. Edus blew on his bowl of stew, knowing from past days to save himself from scalding the roof of his mouth and tongue. When they were finished and the pot’s contents empty they waited for their captain to speak.

Grizwald sat down cross legged, his hulking form hunched over as the fire lit the hard edges of his face.

“We’re a day’s march away from the Middenfort. I know you all have your doubts of this war. All of you have never been in battle. My advice is to piss and shit before you sleep tonight, and not eat anything tomorrow. This war doesn’t care about us. As soldiers we live and die by the sword. We don’t fight for some pissant mage that seeks to crown their bloodline. We fight knowing that we are but pawns in their game, and can only hope for a time of peace in between their long lives.”

What Grizwald said was punishable by heresy, by death. But the other soldiers turned a blind eye to such things, loathe to report their fellow comrades in arms. Everyone agreed with what he said. Grizwald was one of the few brave enough to say it outright.

“We’re at war with Raul, a Kingdom whose people have been born into war. Normally out of a hundred men in an army ten should not even be there. Eighty are just targets. Nine are the real fighters, and they make for the brunt of the battle. Raul’s army are all fighters. Their force of will makes up for our greater numbers. But we have the last man. The last man will bring the rest back home.” Grizwald stared at each of them in turn, dark eyes glinting in the firelight.

“I cannot promise you eternal life; but follow my orders, do not break formation, and we may yet have a chance to live past the next day.”