-Ouki-

Ouki requested a chair from where he might watch the battlefield, and he sat. The first engagement ended in a draw. Moubu's formation had ended in favor of Qin by reducing the losses. The Zhao had responded with a technology Ouki had never seen utilized in this manner before, and he had feared for the worst when the massacre reached its peak. However, as if by miracle, the chariots had created a dust cloud only to be swallowed up by it, and Zhao's gamble to separate and entrap Moubu, and kill all of the Qin fighting, had failed. Moubu had returned to the Qin line with the head of a Zhao commander, Ouki heard a rumor that a small group of soldiers had managed to destroy the Zhao chariot unit.

He would have to look more into this.

To the unobservant the draw could be considered a loss. Many lives were lost. However, Ouki knew it to be a win. The lives of untrained peasants, though worthy of mourning, had been traded for the lives of trained soldiers. The loss of skilled soldiers would injure Zhao greatly. In addition, it was a generally understood rule of war that an invader needs to hold the advantage at all times to continue the invasion. For the invader to be forced into a draw is advantageous to the defender. This was Qin's turf. If the Zhao did not respond properly, then the advantage would be taken from them, and they would find themselves surrounded, cut off from supplies; and while the defender could retreat when losses get too high, and know they were in friendly territory in which to retreat, the invader would find themselves spared no mercy.

Ouki intended to kill Harken Dragmire. Then he would give them one chance for mercy. If they refused... Well...

Chouhei could very well become the standard of this new age of war.

So Ouki calculated. He set his mind to predicting what the Zhao would do. Harken was by no means a proper general, never had been, but may have gained some tactical insight and leadership ability in the last thirteen years. Ouki expected either Harken was a puppet who allowed his tactical advisors to lead for him so long as he got what he wanted, or Harken had been trained for this. He would have to prepare his thoughts for either contingency.

Either way, the Zhao army was aggressive. They would not settle for anything less than destruction. That was the first rule of invaders, they tend to attack.

"Any word from commander Mutagi?" Ouki inquired.

"Yes, sir! We received a hawk on schedule. Mutagi is standing by, and his scouts report Zhao has made no moves."

"That will not last long..." Ouki mused. He cast his eyes west. The landscape west was that of ancient ruins of an unwalled city destroyed in a past war. All unwalled cities closer to the borders have become ruins. In this age of war, any city without walls won't last a generation.

The city would be easy to hide in and would allow them to entrench themselves right next to Ouki's hill. Zhao would want to take it to spring an attack on his flank.

Ouki cast his eyes east. There he had ordered Kei Ki to hold. The land was filled with hills and forests. Ouki recognized that the former-bandit would be able to use this to his advantage well. Judging from the lack of word from him, Ouki could only assume he was busy. At the very least his scouts reported that the Zhao eastern flank was occupied. Though which side was winning would be anyone's guess.

West would be the next focus.

-Link-

"We did it! I can't believe we actually did it!" Tou gasped. He took another sip of the wine. "We survived!"

"Yeah..." Link smiled weakly at the thought. They had done well. But he felt... melancholy.

The team was back at their set of tents around the campfire. Solitare had immediately retired to sleep. Ganon silently sat against a rock and observed the festivities from an emotional distance. Kagami slept at his feet, satisfied in the way a good dog breed is after a good hunt. This left Hei, Tou, and Link with a carriage of wine... and over a hundred guests.

It was not the wine that caused the 'friends' to pop out of the woodwork, though that could be a reason for them to feel extra social. No, the reason was something much grander.

Link and them had held their ground. Moubu came, and personally escorted all of the survivors they could find back to the Qin line. Immediately word reached his ears of how a teenage boy named Link had stepped up when the thousand-man commander had died, and lead them to victory against the chariots. Moubu knew that he could have lost much more, if not his own life, had the chariot threat not been handled. He was strong. He was powerful. He had a powerful army under him. But he also knew to give credit where credit was due, and something he had been taught by Ryo personally was investment.

Invest in loyal men and the future. Reward men for their work. Work is worthy of reward. Lessons such as these from Ryo had helped him in his career.

So Moubu gathered the hundred together, congratulated them (albeit with grunts and glares and only a few words), and rewarded them with a cart of his own wine. Some of the finest wine the land had to offer from the coffers of Ryo. Moubu settled for nothing less than the best. As a gesture, his thanks also would settle for nothing less.

Hei was passed out drunk after the first sip, thinking he had died and gone to heaven.

Tou managed to hold out through the first goblet, but he was well on his way to being drunk.

Link didn't touch the stuff. He couldn't fathom how men liked the stuff. It just made him cough when he tried it. Felt like he was swallowing a pinecone.

But the part that made Link stir inside was how he had gone from being an outcast to those around him, to being a celebrity. The men who had kicked him, yelled at him for talking to them, distanced themselves from him and his team, and all in all looked down on him were now congratulating him, thanking him, giving him bone-crushing pats on the shoulder, drinking with him, and more as if they were suddenly friends.

They bragged with each other about how many kills they got. The most was five. Link didn't know what 'five' was, but he felt deep down that it was nothing compared to what he and his team had done, yet they felt the need to brag about it? Link didn't feel like bragging about it. The death was already well on its way to haunting his childhood friends, and he felt he was losing a bit of his humanity from the number he had killed. What was one more to the number he had already slain? It was nothing to brag about. Rather, it was something to mourn.

Link put up with a lot of stuff, he had a thick skin for being picked on, but praise? It ruined his appetite for celebration. He felt he should be proud of what he had done, the difference he had made. He had avenged Qin just a little bit and given Zhao a bit of payback for what they did (or didn't do) to Zelda. But instead he just felt... tired.

Another strong man walked up to Link, threw his arms around him, and said drunkenly, "Boy, boy, boy... boy! You saved all of our asses today, you know that! If this is somethin- you gonna go far boy! Perhaps even general!"

A spark of anger lit up in him, and Link threw the man off. Despite the man being much larger, Link, in a single movement, threw the man to the ground. Several of the men stopped their celebration to watch. Link huffed in anger against the light of the fire.

"Do not taint my journey to being a general with your false hopes and praises! You think we're friends!? You may be comrades and brothers of war against Zhao, but we are NOT friends! Friends don't kick each other when they are down! Friends don't mock or jeer or put up false fronts! The only reason you are here tonight is because General Moubu said a few nice things and put up wine and said, 'have at it'. Tomorrow you will all have forgotten about me. Tomorrow all the hopes and well wishes and praise will turn to insult and mockery just as before. So save us all the bullshit! You want to celebrate? Go ahead. You want to be thankful to be alive? By all means. But don't claim to include me in it, when it is not I you are thinking of."

With that said, Link marched away. Ganon passively watched him leave. The crowd was struck silent as they watched him leave. Tou was hurt, and felt perhaps he was among those Link had directed his words at.

"Damn, what's his deal?" A man slurred. "That's just uncalled for."

Tou said, "If you knew he would have done this all before, would we have treated him differently?"

"Naaaaaaaah..."

Tou chuckled, "You're drunk."

"Perhaps..." The man agreed. "Time to get more drunk! More wine!"

The man left, and another approached with his team. The first man had a red tattoo on his face, two more were giant muscular brothers, the fourth was a teenager of little notice, and the fifth was an older gentlemen who had survived seven battles, and so lead the others in how to survive his eight.

The leader asked, "That leader of yours did an incredible thing, he should be proud and celebrating to, but he isn't. What's more it looked like his words were partially directed at you... You didn't seem to be on his side, at the very least."

Tou sighed, "Most of it was not, as he is just frustrated. But perhaps... they were in part. I grew up with him, and my brother and I were a bit of a bully at times. We would mock him for his 'fruitless' ambition, and for a time we did kick him when he was younger. Thankfully maturity comes with age, but mistakes are still made. He may have changed from the slave he once was, but the mockery and beatings haven't changed."

"Slave?!" The men collectively gasped.

"Oops." Tou chuckled nervously. "Don't know if I should have said..." Perhaps he had a bit too much to drink.

"What's a slave doing in the army!?" The tattooed man asked. The others echoed similar questions and thoughts.

Tou smiled as he remembered. "He's been struggling his entire life. You're right... the army does not conscript slaves. But Link worked hard to become free, all for the sake of his ambition to become a general. When the Princess took the throne, Link was there, fighting alongside her. He earned his freedom."

The men were stunned silent.

"Now he has achieved something worthy of note in a major war campaign that is deciding the fate of Qin... and the very people who have mistreated him are now chummy with him. I don't know about you, but if I was him... I would feel like it was a cheap gesture from fair-weather friends."

"A slave..." The leader whispered in amazement.

"Incredible." Both of the muscular brothers said.

"A slave that would be general." The tattooed man smirked. "Now that's interesting. Kinda inspiring, really."

The teenage boy's eyes were lit up and he was struck silent.

"Yep." Tou nodded. He wanted to smile, but he couldn't. He was one of the disbelievers for so long, now he was as amazed as any of them. He felt like dirt. "Inspiring."

Link had not gone far. Far enough that he wouldn't have to hear what they were saying, but close enough to keep an eye on them. He climbed a set of ruined walls and laid himself down on the top of it. He stared at the stars and thought and meditated. He felt cheated. He felt his accomplishment was tarnished. He should be happy, he should be proud... instead he felt like justice had come up short. He wanted nothing more than to rub it in everyone's face... to kick them and mock them as they had done to him, but he was too nice of a guy to do that.

Link was angry. This was certainly true, but Link didn't want to be angry. He didn't want to look back on this day, the next phase in his journey, and remember it as a day he was angry. So Link did the best he could to banish his negative thoughts away and focus on the positives. Without realizing it, he had stepped into the shoes of a commander. It was but for a moment, a mere speck of time in the grand scheme of the wars covering the land, but that one blink had helped shape the future in one way or another.

Link raised his hand and looked at the triangle mark on his hand. It glowed gently green. Next to it was the triangle from Ganon, glowing red and pulsing with the man's strong and steady heartbeat.

The Elder Fae had said these marks were the signs and blessings bestowed on those the Goddesses chose as their champions. Farore, the goddess of freedom, imagination, soul, and time had chosen him. Link had learned a little bit of how to use his power in the last year; but he felt he was touching but a drop of it. Hopefully, he could get some formal training from the Fae after this war. Or even some pointers from Ganon.

Link felt the stone was becoming hard on his back, so he rose and returned to the campfire. By this time the men were all passed out drunk. He entered his tent, and hissed as he hit his toe on something hard and hairy.

"Ow! Watch it!" Solitare snapped. "Don't just go around kicking people in the head!"

"Sorry." Link yawned. He blinked. "Wait... isn't this my tent?"

"Is it?" Solitare wondered, sleepily. "..." He rose to leave slowly, but he was clearly half-asleep still.

"It's fine. You can stay." Link pulled his own sack a bit to the side to make him. Solitare didn't hesitate for a moment, he immediately laid himself back down.

'You could have at least hesitated to take advantage of me...' Link thought in aggravation. He briefly glared at the boy.

"Thanks..." Solitare mumbled in a half-sleep slur.

"Sorry, I kicked you." Link whispered.

"It fine... used to it."

"Used to what?" Link finished setting himself up and laid down. He sighed in relief. 'Ah... much better.'

"Being not noticed. People run into me all the time. I've always been a nobody. People don't notice nobodies."

Something about his words struck Link. Something familiar. Like him, the boy was perhaps an underdog. Link was mistreated, the boy was unnoticed.

"Well, I promise to work on it. We're a team after all. Gotta look out for each other. You have my back, I'll have yours."

Solitare said nothing. Link listened closely, wondering if the boy was going to respond. He was rewarded with a snore. He smiled.

'Nice to have a roommate again.' Link turned and fell deeply into sleep. It was a more restful sleep than he had received in a long time... not since Midna.