The entire Southern Army marched north, having broken camp a day ago, now trudging forward at a relaxed pace. Their part in the greater war was done for now, so it would fall to another to take their place and hold the line until the King and his Field Marshals called for an offensive. For now though, such thoughts were far from the minds of many, as it seemed those back in Anceburg were content with celebrating another victory, this one less costly than the previous battle.

Indeed, it seemed everyone across the Kingdom was content with just this victory – which was tiny in the grand scheme of things – but Vance was thankful for this minor respite, as it would give him time to focus on the other ideas and technologies he wanted to bring into this world. Yet, there was also another reason for his gladdening, namely the second champion, Ami. The samurai rode behind Vance atop Magic, free from any sort of binding unlike other Prisoners of War who would likely have their hands bound, yet he had assured his Marines and the Grenadiers that all was well, and that Ami could be trusted. They had relented, only when Ami swore to Major General Anderson not to raise arms against Kendirewen again unless called in its defense—the latter of which would likely happen sooner than he expected. For now though, the Japanese man rode silently on the back of Magic.

“How’s the ride?” Vance asked, trying to break the silence between the two.

Ami didn’t bother to look at the blonde, keeping his dark eyes focused instead on the army that marched behind and beside them, “Good.”

“I’m sorry you know. I wish I could say something to help you but-”

“But what? Listen, Vance, you have nothing to apologize for. Hell, if anything I should be thanking you for all you’ve done and continue to do for me.” Ami replied quickly, shaking his head.

Taking a breath in, Vance cast a sidelong glance over his shoulder, “I just want you to know, you have us now.”

“I know. I don’t know why I know, but for some reason I feel like I can trust you, and should trust you.” Ami noted with a defeated sigh.

Vance smiled, turning his focus to the front, “Well, if there’s one positive you can take away from all this, it’s that you’re with another earthling.”

Ami smiled for the first time in days, nodding in agreement “True.”

Conversation came easier between the two as they began to share stories of their past lives on earth, each laughing at things only they would know, while the others looked on quizzically. Such continued for days, and those days turned into weeks as the army marched up the long winding roads that wrapped around thick forests and over raging rivers until finally, they arrived home to Anceburg.

Stopping a few miles from the entrance, Alexis Anderson, who sat smartly on the saddle of her horse, looked on at the gates, flanked by several other senior officers that made up her command staff. Vance rode up, Magic towering above all.

“You called for me, General” Vance tapped the brim of his helmet in salute, while Anderson nodded and returned the gesture.

“Mhm, I want you behind me when we enter.” She replied, pointing towards the gate.

Tilting his head, Vance looked confused, “Sir?”

“No questions General. You and your Marines are the heroes of our campaign and as such you and yours have the honour of entering first.” She explained, pausing only to swallow, “As such, I want you and your Marines to march at the forefront of our triumphal entrance.” Her hunters grin soon tugging at the edge of her lips.

Again, another one of these situations. He couldn’t understand why Anderson favoured him and his Marines so much. They had won only two victories – two of which were small in his mind. But, there was little he could do against a woman who was his superior in title, rank, and experience. She saw something in him and his regiment, and now, she had all but made Vance her protégé.

“Of course, I’ll have my Regiment take up the front.” He replied.

“Mhm.”

Twisting in the harness, Vance looked over at William who rode up behind Vance, “Will, let Estrid and Richard know to move the Regiment to the front. We’re to enter as the primary Regiment of honour.” William quickly understood the order, and tugged at the reigns, prompting his Wyvern to launch himself up into the air, to quickly relay the order to the others.

It didn’t take long for the Regiment to take the front, and it seemed the entire army agreed with the General, many cheering and calling out the Marines as they walked by, some even asking how to join. All the while, Vance watched on, letting Estrid and Richard steer the Dragon Marines into formation. Once they took up positions at the front, with Anderson and Vance at the head, the army continued at the march, the colours pulled free so they could flutter in the warm breeze. As the army marched forward, pipes, drums, and fife played in time with the footfalls of the army. Muskets and rifles slung over left shoulders, while right arms swung out in a brilliant display for all onlookers.

Virtually all of Anceburg’s population came out to watch the army parade down the main street. Many threw or tossed flowers at the passing soldiers, people seemingly more jubilant and happy at the sight of a victorious army marching proudly with creatures of myth at the front. Kids looked up in awe at the Wyverns, and their smartly dressed riders – dreams of one day riding one filling their minds. To ensure she wasn’t smaller than the Marines, William had taken to lead the Regiment from the front, allowing the General to ride his mount so as to keep up a glorious and even appearance.

Sabre in hand, William was flanked by the Regimental, and national flag that were held by two Marine Sergeants. The sight alone filled the young regiment with pride as their colours dancing proudly alongside the nation’s flag as the wind blew past for all to see as though the gods themselves were blessing the procession. Both Generals looked smartly dressed in their respective home regiment uniforms, but for all the storied reputation of the Hussars of which Alexis hailed from, it was Vance who stood out the most in the dress uniform of the Dragon Marines. Though he had neither the medals, ribbons, nor badges that the Major General had, his uniform made up for such with its appearance, catching the eye of all who saw him. Vance ignored the looks, trying to fight back the embarrassment he felt riding beside his commanding officer, dressed up the way he was. It was something he’d have to get used to he supposed, but it was likely going to take a bit to come to terms with. Meanwhile Estrid and Richard seemed to look confident as they rode like naturals atop their Wyverns. Though, it was still somewhat ironic, that there was a dragon riding another dragon – even if they were lesser.

So it was the procession marched through flower covered streets towards the palace that stood out amongst the buildings as the tallest and widest of the structures to dwell in the capital. As the army came through the main gate, the entire army took care to muster together as tightly as they realistically could so that they might still stand out for the King and Queen to see. Each Regiment’s colours waved proudly in the wind, much like the Dragon Marines. Dismounting, the Wyvern Riders stood in front of their mounts, promptly drawing their sabres as they brought them up in front of themselves in salute as they stood at attention. Wolfram and Anderson both remained on their respective mounts, drawing free their own blades, holding them up in salute as the King, Queen, and their ministers came to look at those who brought them a much needed victory.

Slowly lowering their blades to the side, Anderson trotted forward to announce her army’s arrival, “His Majesties Southern Army of Kendirewen has returned… Triumphant!” She announced proudly, her voice booming out across the wide space, easily carrying over to those who watched above.

The royals clapped merrily while the ministers seemed less enthused, merely giving a polite clap as obligated by tradition. The monarch and his wife proceeded to climb down the opulent white marble stairs, their soles of their shoes protected by the red velvet carpet under foot.

“Impressive display, most impressive! We are pleased to see our army return triumphant and still in good shape!” The king started, a heavy focus on how he spoke about himself in such terms.

Smiling proudly at the soldiers arrayed out before him, he nodded like a father would his child returning from war, “Truly Julia has blessed this nation for which we rule.” He continued, walking up to the two generals who had since dismounted, so they were on the same level as their king, “And it’s you two we have to thank for this victory. My! Oh, my, look at you. Both of you, as beautiful as my daughter.” Chuckling softly, the king quickly added, “But not quite.”

Waving the two commanders forward, they took a knee in front of him, only for him to help both to their feet, “Please! No, no, heroes such as you shouldn’t kneel before me, for today is about you and all whom you command.” Slipping past Vance and Alexis, the King strode forward to address the army, “Let it be known that all those who returned victorious shall have their wages doubled in reward for bringing us this victory!”

A cheer erupted across the army, as thousands of voices join in as one, all praising the King and Kendirewen. Vance stood silent as did Anderson, who merely smirked.

“Always was one for the theatrics.” She smirked.

Vance glanced over quizzically, but chose not to say anything as the King returned, resting his pale wrinkled hands upon his shoulder. Getting a good look at the man, he could finally see how old the ruler of Kendirewen was. He had only ever seen him via portraits and they always depicted a man in his early forties, but here stood a man that looked more as though he were seventy. His weathered pale skin was wrinkled and drooped down near the cresses of his face. Stress had clearly played a part in his aging, as his hair was long and grey. Yet, his green eyes stared with intelligence and youthful vibrancy. A faded scar could be seen near where his collar bone met his neck, appearing as though a musket ball had been the cause. It appeared as though the King was once a warrior of some caliber before age forced him to the role he was now relegated to. Dressed as one would expect a king of the nineteenth century to dress, he wore form fitting clothes that looked as though they were all made from the finest silk and shined like the jewels encrusted upon the crown he wore.

“You must be Vance Wolfram?” The king studied Vance, looking him up and down, giving a satisfied nod, he pulled Vance into a hug, his frail appearance incredibly deceptive as he had the strength of a lion.

“Sire?” Vance questioned confused by the sudden display of affection.

Pulling away, he looked Vance in the eyes, “You… I see great things in you. Franz was right to trust you, and so was Anderson in taking you under her wing. The three of you shall be this nation’s bulwark against those who’d seek to destroy us.” The King announced to all present, “You and yours shall have the honour of being one of our Regiments, and have your colours carry our eagle as yours in recognition of your achievements. As it is our hope, or rather belief that you shall earn more in the coming campaigns.” The King said.

Vance smiled, “I shall endeavor to live up to the faith you place in me.”

Returning the smile with one of his own, the king nodded, “I know you will. Now, kneel, I have one more honour to bestow upon before we conclude our ceremony.”

Not wasting a moment, Vance took a knee, bowing his low. A nearby servant rushed forward, carrying with him the kings sword. Drawing the blade effortless from its sheath, the king leveled the edge to the left shoulder, hovering barely over the scaled straps of his cuirass.

“Do you, Vance Wolfram, swear to do good deeds in ours and Kendirewen’s name?” He asked.

“I do.”

“And do you, Vance Wolfram swear to uphold the laws passed down to us by the First Emperor and Julia?”

“I do.”

“Then, by my right as King of Kendirewen, successor of the Tavarian Empire, knight you.” Slapping the left ear with the flat of the blade, just hard enough to leave slight reddening, he then did the same to the other side, “rise then, and be recognized, sir Wolfram, a Knight of the Order of Tavaria—” Doing as instructed, Vance rose to his feet, only for the King to thrust the pummel into his chest, “—and let that be the last insult you take unanswered.”