Brack blew gently on the open page of his account book and put the stopper back onto his ink bottle. He shut the book and strapped his writing tools to the widest part of his right horn. His old bones protested as he stood up and walked briskly out of his tent, book tucked under his arm.

He squinted at the large bonfires that were spread haphazardly around the campground. Men laughed and danced around them in accordance with the night’s festivities. Brack would rather be in an empty, quiet field, but he was happy to be seen by his men. He walked slowly but purposefully and waved as the men he passed shouted for him. Finally, he made it to the feast tent. By both the noise and drunks emanating from it, Brack guessed that he was late.

He entered the tent to a round of applause and cheers from the crowd of roughly over one hundred high-ranking military personnel. His family welcomed him to his seat at the head of the table and he didn’t waste much time before digging into his meal of roast meat and steamed carrots. Nyal’s assistant, Llewelyn took his accounts book and unstrapped the tools from his horn. Brack mumbled thanks through a mouthful of steaming food.

“Hello, father! How fares the finances?” Nyal said, insincerely.

Brack took his time to chew and swallow before saying, “They’re doing well. We are safely within our spending budget. Under actually, but no need to say that to them.” He gestured to the crowd of generals. “If they had it their way we would have golden plates and a whore for each man.”

“And two for each of them,” Cob added.

“One must keep a clear head, as they say,” Bryan said, cheeks burning red from the heat of the tent and his mug of ale. Everyone had a laugh at his joke, except for Nyal.

“Father, do you remember the last time we were all here, in this particular camp-ground? It was quite the eventful trip as I recall.” Nyal’s grin was almost charming.

“No, I… Oh.” Brack’s demeanour turned grim, and he gave a sorrowful glance to Cob, who was staring at the wall of the tent with a complex expression of grief and joyful remembrance…

Bryan shifted in his chair and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Nyal, you overstep.”

“She was a pretty girl; wasn’t she Cob you old boy! Just terrible what happened. Awful.”

Cob looked down at his plate and smiled a sad smile. Water welled in his eyes. “She was beautiful.”

“Enough of this talk. We can remember Charley in our own time, but not here and not now. This is a time for thinking into the future and living in the present,” Brack said.

Bryan nodded. “This is the first time Dreanar has shown its might in four hundred years. This is bloody history!”

“Is it really, though? If you think about it we’re just bowing ourselves to our more powerful allies. Supporting a war that we have nothing to do with for the sake of what? Trade? Good will? We could be spending our resources on research into Efir and how to expand its uses.”

“How many more bloody resources does your lot need?” Bryan fumed. “I can’t remember a time when the Sigs haven’t got everything they’ve asked for.”

“That’s probably because we’re the only ‘lot’ that does a damn thing.”

Cob scoffed. “Ough, that’s a bit of a stretch Nyal. Who excavated the mountains that you research inside of? Who mined the bloody Efir that you work on? I shouldn’t have to say but everything’s a balance mate. Every Dru, Frey, and Sig matters.”

“Like listening to my bloody wet nurse.” Nyal sneered and hid his face behind a mug.

Brack leaned over the table, impassioned. “And, in spite of Nyal’s protest, this war is important. It opens us up culturally, and gives us support with the Coalition’s people, not just their merchants.”

“Which is important because?” Nyal said.

“Because…” Brack cleared his throat and stood up, signalling to all in the room that he had something big to say. “Dreanar is going to join the Coalition.”

There was a blanket silence before the tent was overtaken in noise. Some of the room cheered and some booed, but most were loudly questioning the person next to them. Bryan leapt out of his chair and went to his father’s side.

“Father, I thought that Dreanar had-“

“It’s ok son, this is the best choice for us. We’ll discuss it later, together.” Brack smiled and patted his son on the shoulder before turning to Nyal.

“You can’t! This is… I. No!” Nyal threw his mug onto the ground and stormed off. Llewelyn followed him, whispering small reassurances into an unhearing ear.

Brack waved the room to silence. “Any questions?”

Commander Gart, a portly fellow with beady eyes and a chipped horn, spoke first. “Chief, it was my understanding that we declined to join the Coalition in the interest of maintaining global trade. Surely our sea routes to Salidinia and Ashelan take precedence over gaining a marginally increased amount of reputation with our current allies.”

Brack nodded calmly and said, “Trade with the Eastern empires was lucrative, yes, but fragile. It is entirely possible that within the next decade the two powers will fall back into war and leave our trade routes both less profitable and more open to piracy.

“It is also important to consider that being an ally and being a member of the Coalition are two entirely different things. A full political union will bring us increased stability on all fronts.

“Yes, the Coalition was only formed three decades ago, and this does mean that each nation is still heavily posturing for power and influence. This also means that, due to our nation's relatively high amount of political and economic capital, we will be able to take advantage of the union's infancy.”

Bryan laughed and turned to the small crowd. “What he means is that we can come into their house, eat of their plate, and then take their wives. And they’ll pay us for it!”

At that, the whole tent erupted into laughter and celebration. Even those who had been against the plan had been roused by Brack and Bryan’s speeches. Brack was glad

Cob left the tent quietly and orientated himself in the dark. He wiped his nose with his arm before heading off into the direction of the woods. He stumbled, half-drunk, through the brush and brambles and underneath the low-hanging branches. The darkness did not help matters, as when Cob finally reached a clearing he was covered in scrapes and dirt. He did not care. He looked down at the oddly familiar crater that was in front of him. It was old and grassed in, just deep enough to see the tops of the trees if you were in the middle, Cob thought.

Cob heard a nightingale sing and couldn’t help but remember his daughter. She was very beautiful, he thought. Cob smiled at her memory. She had long black hair, like her mother. Her eyes were dark as well, but her skin and smile were as fair as day. Her smile was like-

Cob slipped and tumbled down into the crater, but the fall was not very far. He laid in the weed-filled grass for many moments before he began to cry. He sobbed loudly and violently, his feet and hands lashing out at the ground and at himself. He screamed her name and he screamed for her mercy. He screamed for many things, but no one heard.

He rolled over and tried to crawl out, but he was too tired. He was tired of crying, of the grief. He rested his horns gently onto the grass and opened his eyes. He saw a small white object sitting peacefully amongst the green. He could only just make out its colour with the light as it was, he would have to leave very soon, or risk getting truly lost in the dark.

He picked up the object and inspected it closely. The thing was small, easily a quarter the size of one of his fingers. It was cylindrical and wider at its top and bottom. It was pock-marked and yellow-brown with age. Cob’s eyes widened and he clamped his jaw shut.

“No,” He whispered.

Cob scrambled up the crater and dashed back into the forest. He found his way by going towards the light of the fires. He needn’t have feared getting lost.

He caught Brack as he was walking back to his tent.

“Chief, I’ve-“ Brack burped and stumbled into Brack’s arms.

“By the Mother, what’s gotten into you man?”

“Sorry.” Cob balanced himself and straightened his uniform. “I’ve found something.” He help out the small object and gave it to Brack.

“What is this? An animal bone?” Brack looked Cob up and down worriedly. “Have you been in the forest? You're covered in dirt.”

“I found a crater and that was at the bottom. I think it’s human.”

Brack gave Cob a hard look. “You think it’s Charley’s bone.”

“Chief, you…” Cob shook his head. “You know how her body… you know.”

“Aye, I do, and you needn’t bring it up.” Brack sighed and placed the bone in his coat pocket. “Look, Cob, to me it just looks like any animal bone you might find in a forest. But, out of respect for you, I will give it a personal inspection tomorrow. Now go to sleep, you look like hell.”

“Ok, Brack. Thank you.” Cob swayed slightly and wiped tears from his eyes. “You were always there for me when-“

“Cob, it’s fine, go to bed.” Brack turned his back and walked off to his tent. The bright light from the bonfires shone brilliantly in his dark horns.

He tried to shove thoughts of craters and old bones and treeless forests from his mind, but he could not.