As the army began their long march back to rejoin with the rest of the army, Vance rode at the head atop Magic, exhaustion clear on his face. Slumping forward, he felt the weight of his armour and uniform bear down upon him. He'd been riding, fighting, and rushing all around the south lands of Kendirewen, looking for an enemy that had waited for him in a field of their choosing. A duel, a firefight, and later a pitched battle between two exhausted armies. The only thing keeping many of the Kendirewen soldiers upright was the state of morale shared across the army. They had gone in expecting a bloody and long campaign of defensive skirmishes but instead came out victors, destroying the Askalian invasion force.

For Vance, though, he had once again been left with little sleep or rest. Constantly on the move and never getting to stay in one place longer than an hour before he had to move or plan something. Estrid could see it too. She rode up beside Vance, looking up at him from her own Wyvern.

"How're you holding up?" She asked, snapping him back from his thoughts.

Immediately turning to glance at Estrid, he shrugged, "I'm exhausted and sore."

She frowned. Estrid saw all he had done and gone through and had been right there with him, every step of the way, and it pained her to see the man she'd come to respect look so withered. She wanted to reach out and reassure him, help him relax, but such things weren't possible. Instead, she turned away, letting her hand drop, just before reaching out to him.

Vance didn't notice. He was too far gone into his mind to pay attention to his surroundings. There was a great deal Vance would have to do in the coming days, and each would likely eat up what little time he had to sleep. Peering over his shoulder, he saw Ami, looking as withdrawn and exhausted as he, but for different reasons. His army had betrayed him, and those he thought were trustworthy had turned on him-- casting him aside like trash. It destroyed him. Vance looked away, knowing he'd had to deal with that emotional baggage soon. He had to, whether he wanted to or not. Ami was one of the ten champions and was favoured by one of those within Julia's pantheon. He could already guess which one too, based on his martial talents alone: the war god, Tiberius.

Vance recalled teachings and imagery of the war god in his time as a farmboy and had seen the facade within the Mountain Jewel that gave away his likeness. It wasn't hard to put two and two together, but it was a slight annoyance where he met his champion. Ami likely wasn't aware of his status as a champion and would probably take some coaxing into getting on his side. Exhaling through his nose, Vance dismissed the thought for now. Another worry for a later time.

What he worried about now was his victory. This was technically the third he had won-- since he didn't count the battle with the goblins as one. It was weird how luck seemed to bless him more than any other attributes. Be it luck of the opponent or placement of his forces. It all just seemed to work out in his favour, and he was starting to wonder if he had inherited Napoleon's star. The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine, given that man's final moments. Such history was one he didn't want to dwell or focus too much attention on. With a quick mental shake of his head, he pushed forward.

Before long, the army had reached the outskirts of the tent city that made up the main body of the southern army. Thousands of tents were arrayed in rows, palls of cookfire smoke rising into the clear skies above. The sight of the camp alone was enough to fill Vance with a small measure of hope for some much-needed rest. As the army neared the picket lines, two riders emerged from behind the thin line of trees. Vance immediately identified each as belonging to the Lancer regiment by their square lapel flap overtop purple coats and iconic square-topped hats.

“By the gods!” Gasped the lead rider.

Vance looked puzzled, and it wasn’t until he looked down at his state that it dawned on him. The blood from the previous battle had stained the formally vibrant colours of his uniform, giving off a grisly look. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, looking over at the man with some sense of bashfulness.

“Colonel Wolfram?” Asked one of the lancers.

“Yes?”

“I—Well, I have the honour of giving the General’s compliments.” He started as he pulled out a note that had been tucked behind the flap, “Your riders reached us not long before you did, and news has quickly travelled around the camp of your victory!” He stated, passing the note to Vance.

Reaching over grabbing the note, he began to scan the contents, “Good, I’m glad to hear they arrived safely.”

“Ha! I doubt they’d have much trouble after the beating you dished out to the Askalians!” Chimed the other rider.

Vance shot him a pointed glare, silencing the man’s laughter, “Yes, well. I’ll be sure to give the General my respects after I change into a clean pair of clothes.”

“I’ll let her know to expect you shortly.”

“Good,” Twisting around, he peered over at Estrid, “Colonel, I’ll have you join me in delivering our report in person.”

Estrid nodded in reply, and the two riders were given a similar nod from the Lieutenant Colonel, who dismissed the two riders back to their duties.

As the riders vanished behind the thin line of trees, a sigh escaped past Vance’s lips.

“You okay?” Estrid asked, still feeling worried for Vance.

Vance shook his head, “No. If I’m being honest, I’m exhausted, sore, and afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Mhm.”

“About what?” She quickly asked.

“Everything.” Vance started, pausing to look around his immediate surroundings, “Think about it, we just won the first real defensive campaign for Kendirewen in decades, and I’ve barely a week's veterancy as a full colonel, and I’m suddenly leading an army I have no right to command over those who are vastly my superior in rank and experience, and yet…” He paused, biting his lips in annoyance.

“But, didn’t you want this?”

Another sigh escaped past his lips as he looked up into the cloudless sky, the sound of an army on the march filling the space between the two, “Yes, but— I don’t know now.” He cast his gaze down to the army as they marched past. “I thought I wanted things fast, but--”

“But you didn’t expect all that responsibility.” Estrid finished.

“Yes.”

Estrid paused, the slight look of pain evident in her face as she tries to form words of comfort, but she could find none that hadn’t been said before, “Vance...”

“I know Estrid, I know… Thank you, just having you, Richard, William, and Lara with me are enough to keep me strong.” He said, giving her an honest smile.

It didn’t do much to dispel the feelings Estrid had, but she relented, “Remember, if things ever get to much, you always have us to lean on.”

Smiling, he nodded, “I know.”

Gently rubbing the sides of Magic to move forward, the Wyvern wasted no time in trotting forward into camp, flanked closely by Estrid and her own mount. The ride back was nothing but silence, until they went their separate ways, agreeing to meet at the command tent after tending to their appearances, as both were a grisly sight to behold, like much of the army after the brutal melee. While short, the combat was fierce and bloody. Many would need the priests to heal and mend their wounds, while others would never be able to regain missing limbs hacked off, or others who had to have theirs removed in order to save the rest. Such sights were commonplace here though, and there were a great many Kendirii infantry who had suffered the same if not a worse fate in the Battle of Myths days ago due to the Boar Riders. Yet, to Vance, such things were something he wanted to prevent, he didn't want to see great men and women who might still be able to function in society without resorting to desperation after having lost a limb.

For now, though, he was focused on getting through the rest of the day. His body seemingly moving on automatic as he peeled off clothes that felt both wet and sticky after marching out in the hot sun. The uniform might have had some runes to regulate the temperature, but there was only so much magic that the clothes could hold before they would require a mage of some kind to refill the mana reserves within each of the runes. Vance still hadn’t found the champion of magic, so his mana stores were lacking considerably, and he had no magic ability beyond being able to understand and feel the trace of mana; but the use of it? Impossible—for now.

As the last of his soiled clothes were tossed into a hamper near the entrance of his tent, Vance was quick to go through his trunk, rifling through the different sets of clothes and other such amenities provided to him. Finally managing to find a second uniform, he found it was just his dress uniform.

“Well, seems I only had one set of combats?” Vance mumbled to himself, noting how he’d have to request a few more sets of uniforms for future campaigns.

With a small shrug, he went about laying out the pieces of his uniform. White undershirt and dolman laid out firs, alongside the pants, while the cuirass he wore into battle would need to be polished a little before he could wear it again, and another pelisse, this one heavier than the one he wore into battle for some reason he wasn’t sure of. Then of course, his helmet—which also needed to be cleaned. His knee-high black cavalry boots rested neatly at the foot of his cot, each coated in a thick crust of mud. Pursing his lips inward, he couldn’t help but laugh at his misfortune.

“Now, if Julia had given me a cleaning spell, that’d be something.” He joked softly as he gave himself a quick wipe down with a wet cloth.

Vance needed to clean off the dried blood and dirt around his hands, face, and hair. He pulled out a small bottle of perfume free from his trunk, dabbing some of the floral smelling liquid under his pits and wrists, ensuring the smell of BO was appropriately concealed under sweet smelling scents. It was the only expensive personal item he had, and something that had been pushed onto him by both Estrid and Richard some months back. At the time, he didn’t think he’d need it, but after these past couple of days, it was a welcome addition to his kit.

Finally done with a quick wash, Vance went about cleaning his armour and boots, spending what little time he had left to ensure he looked presentable to the General—not that she’d likely care. Still, it was all part of honouring the uniform, or so that’s what he told himself. With his cuirass, helmet, and boots wiped clean and given a quick buffing and polish, he set about donning the uniform. It was a more time-consuming affair since it was his dress uniform, so there were a few more belts and ornaments that went along with the whole ensemble, but after some struggle, he managed to look the part of a Colonel. Giving himself a quick once over via a small mirror for shaving, he nodded satisfied.

Ducking out into the cool of the evening air, he looked round in time to see Estrid and Richard come walking up, both dressed as he, but with a little less ornaments and belts given their rank. “My don’t you ever look handsome~” Estrid cooed, trying to lighten the mood.

Vance rolled his eyes, “I could say the same about you two.” He nodded towards their own state of dress.

He could tell Estrid was trying to put forward a brave face, but the pain and worry were still evident in the way she walked and carried herself around him.

“Good to see you’re in one piece,” Richard remarked, walking up to shake Vance’s hand.

Smiling, he returned the gesture, “Likewise.”

“Hmph! Nothing to fret about on my side of things. With you taking on what remained of the main invasion force, it left me with very little to do.” Richard scoffed, rubbing his temples in annoyance, “Instead, I was inundated with patrol duties.”

Vance and Estrid began to laugh, prompting Richard to crack a small smirk before it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“Come then, we’ve made the General wait long enough.”

“Led the way, Sir.” Richard motioned for Vance to take the lead.

Putting on an act, Vance straightened up, “Right! Off to the hard part!” He announced, only for his act to fall apart as the others laughed.

The trio had shared a few brief conversational topics on the way to Anderson’s tent, such as what each did during the days they were apart, and the occasional joke about something. As they approached, the puggy Lancer Colonel from before raised a brow as he spotted the three approach.

“Well, seems even the dregs of society can at least look the part if given the right clothes.” He smirked.

Vance nodded, not wanting to get into an altercation with the man. He still bore a grudge against him, but it wouldn’t do to break the man’s nose outside the General’s tent. Instead, Vance just walked past, only to pause, and flash his Bevert rank of Brigadier General, which quickly made the man’s face go pale.

“Ah! M-my apologies… sir.” He apologised, though it was partially forced out of respect to the rank, rather than Vance.

“Not at all, Colonel. It was a joke after all.” Vance replied, a small knowing smirk tugging up the edge of his lips.

The Lancer scowled, but nodded in response, before quickly excusing himself, leaving the trio to themselves.

“Huh, seems there are some positives about this rank,” Vance noted with a chuckle as he walked up to the Grenadier Guards.

Neither of the guards bothered to stop him, both even going so far as to give him a salute in honour of his part in winning the two victories. Vance waved them at ease with a smile as he walked through the tent flap and emerged into Anderson’s tent, only to suddenly be swarmed by numerous other senior and junior officers who vied for his attention.

“What the?” Vance was caught completely off guard by the sudden change in response everyone had to him and his regiment.

Pushing his way through the throng of officers, he managed to get around to where the General stood smirking in silence, pipe hanging limply between dry cracked lips. “How does it feel being a hero?” She asked more out of jest as she made her way up to Vance.

Both shook hands, with the General going so far as to clasp his hand with both of hers. “Damn fine work, Wolfram, damn fine!” She congratulated the blonde, moving past to shake the hands of both Estrid and Richard both as well. “All of you. You’ve done more than the entire Royal Army has in decades, and for that, you should be proud.” She continued, stepping back to stand in front of Vance.

“Well, we got lucky.” Vance noted, “I don’t think—”

“Please, as if it was pure luck. I heard how you bested the greatest swordsman in Askal, and even managed to take the head of their general. That’s not luck, that’s a skill, General.” She noted, walking back to her desk.

Vance wanted to protest and highlight why it was just luck, but he knew better than to question her, instead, he just forced a smile and nodded.

Digging through her desk, she pulled out a scroll and tossed it over to Vance. “Those Wyverns of yours are pretty handy. They make sending missives back home far faster than just riding a horse.” She said.

Vance tilted his head and shrugged, “They are incredible beings.”

Unrolling the scroll he began to read the contents and the words he saw left him a little shocked.

To our dearest Col. Vance Wolfram.

I write to express both my joy and thanks for your courage and leadership in the face of overwhelming odds. Truly, all news received of the battles is both frightening and heartening to hear. Furthermore, for your actions in bringing an end to the Askalian invasion of our Southern lands, I have seen fit to approve the motion to name you Lord of Luna and its surrounding lands, as I feel there is no greater individual to protect our first Emperors tomb than you. Furthermore, I have seen fit to agree with Duchess Anderson’s recommendation to approve your brevet rank of Brigadier general into that of a full General of Brigade, and award you with the Cross of Tavaria. I hope to see you and your Dragon Marines after your return.

Signed, HRM,

Gunther Rickiris Kendirewen II.

“Shit.” Vance thought.

Peering over his shoulder, Estrid and Richard both read the contents and looked as surprised as he.

“Wow.” Estrid whistled.

Richard crossed his arms over his chest, “That was fast.”

Vance let out an exasperated sigh as he felt the weight of the world seeming to fall upon his shoulders as though he were Atlas. The General meanwhile, took pleasant puffs from her pipe, all while her smirk remained fixed to her face, causing Vance to feel a little defeated and outplayed.

“What happens next?” Vance finally managed to say through the shock of his sudden promotion and honour.

“Now? Now we celebrate, for tomorrow, we pack up and return north.” She replied.

Tilting his head confused, “But won’t that leave the south undefended?”

Shaking her head, “No. Another force will arrive here in a weeks time to take up garrison and patrol duties.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm,” She nodded her head, taking a long drag before the smoke quickly escaped through her nostrils, “They’re even building a fort at the site of our first great victory. Naming it after me too, funnily enough.” She commented almost as an afterthought, “But! Enough about all that, for now, I want you three to join me in a drink.” She grinned.