A bright, green crescent formed from the Faebeast’s blood as Desiree’s lance sliced through its victim. The blade of the partisan directed upwards in gratitude of The Great One. The beast roared a deep, guttural sound that shook the air and bones of those nearby. The blood of Desiree’s men and women dripped from its long, curved tusks, a gruesome mockery of the sickles her father used to reap the harvest every year. Desiree’s eyes narrowed, giving the beast the entirety of her focus. She lived for the chance to test her skills against any foe. The doryciz’ six eyes blinked independently as it glared at her with all the hatred it could muster. Desiree stared back indignantly, returning the ferocity. It would not fall. The beast lunged at her, its four trunk-sized legs pounding into the earth, howling in a rage. Desiree likened it to the snarling of a wounded bear fighting against a pack of baying hounds.

Desiree was here in the Flatlands to prove herself. General Frost’s bid for Desiree was a promise of leadership and support for her father’s farm. Her Trial was to help conquer Gallaher, once they have been weakened and void of any possible resistance. This was her chance to shine and shine she shall. Desiree brought her lance down slicing through the enraged beast’s face, severing the tip of one of its ivory tusks. She leapt back, the cold steel of the lance pressed against her arm, comforting her, and crouched. Desiree needed to put distance between them. This was the first time she fought against a doryciz, but she noticed a pattern in its relentless assault. This beast liked to charge. Desiree’s years of practicing at her family’s farm and the years spent at the Academy had readied her to tackle and conquer any foe.

The Faebeast let out a blood-curdling scream as she readied her stance. It seemed the earlier strike only succeeded in making it angrier. The doryciz stared at Desiree, green blood flowing in rivulets down its thick, gray hide, blinding one of its beady eyes, frantically blinking to see through the viscous liquid. It bared its curved, yellow teeth and bellowed, the flaps around its gums inflating like soap bubbles. Its breathing coming in slow, heavy gasps as it scraped at the ground, forming craters with its hooves. The beast was preparing to charge, and she would be ready. Desiree flourished her lance, the polearm felt natural in her grip, like she was back home, tilling the fields of Verastra. The movement helped her to relax and focus. Straightening her back and readying herself, the flanged blade dug into the soft earth. She re-adjusted so it wouldn’t stick. The haft pressed against her arm as she scowled.

“This is taking too long,” she whispered. The sun had reached the peak of mid-morning, and already it felt like she was burning in the afternoon heat. The humidity was going to sap her strength soon enough. This needed to end now. “Of all things to greet us today, it had to be this! I hate Faebeasts,” she growled, her voice teeming with annoyance. “Mage, finish your bloody chant already! I can’t hold this damned hell spawn forever!” She screamed at her Secondary.

“Y-yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” The mage stammered. He stood behind her perched on a nearby ledge out of the way of direct confrontation with the creature. She passed him a glance to ensure he was safe and that she could get to him if need be. Desiree could tell the mage was nervous, beads of sweat clung to his smooth face, and matting his black hair. Black like hers, rare. This was probably his first time in combat. His hands and body shook as he tried fishing for his components. Once again, he had to start his chant over.

“This is taking forever,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. Desiree found herself wishing for days gone past when it was just her and Vas. Of course, the rest of their was there, but he was her Second, and then some. If he was here, this whole situation would have ended hours ago, she grimaced, side-stepping out of the way of the charging monstrosity. Desiree swiped at the brute’s stampeding legs with the body of the partisan, sending it careening into the grassy hillside. The spines on its back—as well as its coarse, leathery hide—carved a shallow ditch into the blood-stained String-grass. Desiree raised her arm, shielding her face from the flying bits of dirt and rock when the beast tumbled.

The rest of her unit was paired off as well, finishing off the rest of the herd. General Frost’s army had stumbled upon a nest of these Faebeasts a mile outside of Alvarryn. Because of their sheer strength alone, they could prove to be as grave a threat as any military forces. Considering that Faebeasts are the physical forms of a corrupted Spirit, even a highly trained soldier would find fighting one a challenge. At least these ones are stupid, she thought.

Finally, the mage managed to finish casting his spell. Vines grew from the ground, slowly at first, writhing and slithering like snakes through the tall tan grass, but as they found their target, they latched on tightly and quickly, binding and dragging the Doryciz down at an alarming pace. It’s grey hide bulged between the throngs of the malignant tethers. Eyes growing wide, it reared back onto its hind legs, hoping to break them apart or rupture them. The vines coiled around its legs like pythons, and the beast panicked, stomping and thrashing around. Bits of earth and clumps of grass shot into the air like ballistic missiles. Then in seconds, its movement ceased as the vines took complete control of its sporadic motions. The matron of the Doryciz was immobilized in seconds, “Thank you!” Desiree yelled pointedly, spite unintentionally slipping into her tone. She was far from impressed by the mages Frost had lent her unit. Then again, they all paled in comparison to ‘The Great Elementalist.’ At least that’s what she called Vas, and that’s all that mattered.

The Doryciz’s howling rang out, forcing Desiree to refocus her attention on it. Anger boiled up in her. This was not the place to be thinking about stuff like that. “I need to focus,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “This situation is as much my fault as it is that fool’s.” She passed a quick glance over to the mage whose jaw was clenched in concentration. The veins in his head bulged as he tightened the spell’s hold on the beast.

The limbs bound by the spell were losing their color, suffocated by the unnatural force binding them. The mage was struggling, Desiree needed to hurry and end this. The mage pulled his staff behind him, and the creature was yanked towards the ground. It collapsed with the weight and pull of one of The Great Pines in the northwest. A thundering crash echoed in the area, a brief tremor shaking the earth, loud enough that the rest of its herd had taken notice. It wasn’t the biggest breed of Faebeast on Karonus, standing around the size of a man, but it was formidable enough to be a challenge.

Desiree strode over to the downed beast and lifted up her lance. The creature stared at her defiantly, Desiree smirked. “I win,” She plunged the weapon into its side, feeling the hide resisting she hefted the spear above her head and then put her entire weight behind her final thrust. The tip of it slid into the incision she had previously made, the Doryciz gave a high-pitched wail, piercing the air, causing those nearby to cover their hands to their ears. The Boreinys were less than pleased with the death of one of their own.

Its thick, green blood, shot from the wound Desiree had made, covering her face. “Mage,” she commanded. “Get me a rag!” She spat some of the beast’s blood onto the ground next to her and grimaced. It was disgusting; somehow, it was both rancid and sweet, like she had bitten into a rotten strawberry. She had tasted her blood from injuries she attained before, but this. Desiree gagged, it was nothing like the bitter iron taste she was accustomed to. “Disgusting creatures. Mage!” she hollered. Her voice increasing in ferocity, as her patience dwindled. He scurried over to her with a rag from his pack. Desiree snatched the cloth from his grip and wiped her face with it. It was soft and smelled of chamomile, berries, and pine. “Do you scent your rags, A’ Shan?”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” He nodded his head. “It- it helps keep me calm.”

And a great job that did, she rolled her eyes. Desiree used the clean side of the rag to clean off the rest of her partisan, beginning to calm down. “Thank you, and sorry, I’ll replace it, “She looked at it cockeyed. The rag was covered with dirt, grass stains, and a disastrous concoction of both her’s and the Faebeast’s blood. She tried offering it back to the mage who looked just as disgusted by it, and motioned for her to keep it. “Now let’s go see if any of the others need help. We have taken enough time as it is,” she said, tucking it into her chest plate. The two then dashed off to help the others.

“They need training, sir!” Leerin—Desiree’s immediate superior—shouted over the din of the other officers arguing and vying for Frost’s attention in the heat of the tent. It was late in the evening, and General Frost had called an Officer’s Meeting to discuss the day’s events and their plans moving forward. The War Tent, though spacious, was crowded with about twenty-five of Frost’s confidants, fellow officers who Desiree knew—though mostly by name alone.

Leerin was a stout man, more neck and shoulders than anything, and in his middle years. He had been part of the Legion for most of his life, and the years showed on his face. His skin was leathery and tanned, from years marching under the sun. His wrinkles were etched into his features, like a granite statue, making him look far older than one would expect for a man of his age and stature. He ran his fingers through the red and gray strands of his hair that were plastered to his tomato-red face from sweat. Desiree chuckled lightly to herself as she imagined Vas doing the exact same thing. Desiree had arrived earlier than most of the people in the tent. She skipped supper to ensure that she wouldn’t be late. It wasn’t that Desiree was too nervous or anxious to eat, though. Ever since accepting Frost’s bid, a lot of the specifics of her Trial were considered “Need to Know,” and she hoped this meeting would remedy her ignorance. Leerin had been just as early as her, so Desiree took her place next to him, feeling it was her duty as his Second-in-Commander—a spot generally reserved for a mage. Then again, judging from her own Second’s behavior from earlier, she wasn’t surprised.

Directly across from Leerin with his arms crossed—waiting for his chance to speak—at the head of the war-table stood General Frost, looking like Leerin’s complete opposite. He was a hard man, around the same age as hook-nosed Leerin, however, unlike Desiree’s officer, you never would’ve guessed at first glance. General Frost was supposedly fifty, but his black hair was still sheen and just now starting to pepper. His skin, smooth, with no discerning blemishes or age-lines. Desiree found it unsettling and was remarkably a little jealous. She had fair skin, at one point, but it had been damaged from years spent as a farmer’s daughter and her self-imposed, stringent training regimen. She had to stay in pique condition, and that required discipline.

Desiree found herself enamored by the man as Frost stared indifferently at Major Leerin. He took his time responding and trying to calculate a positive reaction. His eyes were fierce and grey, and they glowed with a faint light — a faint, dark threatening light. He always looked like he was looking down at you from somewhere out of reach. Finally, he spoke: “I’m well aware of the prospect of our troops, Major Leerin.” His voice was calm and quiet, like the winds before a Summer Storm, interrupting the poor man’s tirade. His voice was deep and commanding as if the Great One himself spoke. The entire room fell silent and stared, shifting uncomfortably in their postures and stances. “Our forces are currently divided into three units. Regiment Three is solely responsible for bringing the Three Kingdoms into our nation. Their treaties are ending, threats of possession, and rebellion are ripe from all three ends, even over the simplest of transgressions. They all are ready to pick up arms, and we need them under our control,” Frost said, raising his voice so that everyone there understood him.

Desiree focused on his words, taking mental notes on how he spoke and interacted with the others. She wanted it so badly; the chance to lead armies. “The High King has entrusted our forces with ensuring that they don’t kill each other or worse… unite against us.” He continued. General Frost’s stare passed through every one of his officers. Desiree felt a chill down her back as if he was passing judgment on her soul. “This is why our units, Major Leerin, seem untrained,” his voice was quiet and bitter. Desiree froze. “This is why we are in the middle of a foreign land playing ‘Town Guard.’ It is not because they are inexperienced, we have the best damn soldiers in this entire Gods-damned kingdom. We have a whole squadron of Blades at our disposal, scouts, commanders, and infantry. We are not at our full strength, but we are far from the opposite. Do you understand?” General Frost said. He spoke slowly and pointedly, spending time resting on each sentence he spoke. He wanted to make sure everyone could follow and understand what he was saying. A sickly silence filled the space between his quiet voice as Desiree tried swallowing his words. After several painful and prolonged heartbeats—echoing loudly in the humid air of the canvas—there was a murmur of agreement and relent as they mumbled their acknowledgments of his orders. He showed no sign of anger or frustration to the officer. In fact, Desiree noted he was more apathetic than anything — like he was bored. Had he planned for that outburst? Had Frost already discussed this with someone? Or did he know more than what he let on?

Frost turned to an older man sitting to his left. He was balding and wore spectacles that accommodated the hugeness of his owl-like eyes. “Sergeant Fleice, do you have the reports from the remaining units?”

The communications officer ducked his head in a quick genuflect. “Yes, yes, sir, I have. I have indeed,” Fleice was a squirrel of a man; mind sharp as any mage, eyes keen as a hawk, all bundled together in the meekness of a tamed cat and very soft-spoken. Regardless of the situation, he usually had his head stuck in a book or a report of some sort. He cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles, “I received word from Joris today,” Fleice began. “They are on course to arrive at Elmora in three days. Then they will send in their team of Blades to infiltrate the city, cutting out any potential resistance forces. We know Elmora has an army, and they’re planning on taking Gallaher, so hopefully, the Spectres can act fast.”

“That’s Vas’s unit,” Desiree whispered quietly, her eyes wide. The shock of recognition giving way to worry. “Can he really do it? He’s hopeless without me,” She still found herself thinking fond of him and being over-protective in the long days since their parting, likening herself to his personal caretaker. He was two years her junior, but his mind and skills were sharper than most she knew, and his endurance…

A soft smile danced over her thin lips, her cheeks and chest burning. She ducked her head and hid her mouth with her hand, hoping her private thoughts didn’t betray her. They spent every day at the Academy together, it was bizarre and upsetting knowing that there was no telling when she would see him again. Yes, they were part of the same regiment, but they had different missions now and were on two different sides of the Three Kingdoms. She felt her smile fading, replaced by an overwhelming sense of grief, sorrow, and dread. She clutched her chest, the stinging pain of loss filling her heart. They hadn’t left on the best of terms, it had been almost two months since then, and he was shaking from a night terror he had suffered the night before.

Despite her increasing concern, he refused to share what it was about, and that wasn’t like him. Vas had been her most trusted and closest confidant at the Academy, and her Second. Not by his choice, though. Desiree saw the qualities of great leadership in him and forced Vas into the position, but eventually, he came into his own. ‘I hope he’ll be okay,’ She sighed dejectedly. “He has to be able to stand on his own now. I can’t be there to hold his hand the entire time.” A side glance from Leerin suggested she had said that last part out loud. She cleared her thought and played it off as if she hadn’t said anything, to begin with, although her tan skin adapted to the flesh of a blood orange.

“As for our forces on the outskirts of Gallaher, they are ployed to appear as an organized family of bandits, their blockade is strong, and they are holding out extremely well. Gallaher’s Provincial Army has been routed and is headed towards Elmora to claim its resources. Once they are dealt with, we will meet up with the blockade team and take on Gallaher. After they are dealt with, we will march on Alvarren to finish claiming the Three Kingdoms.” Alvarren was the bigger of the three kingdoms and needed to be dealt with carefully, at least from what Desiree understood of the circumstance. They needed the support of every team, so it was vital to the Legion, and the High-King, that Lieutenant Belmont was successful in Elmora. Fleice removed his spectacles and folding its legs up, set them in his coat pocket.

“Good. Now, is there any outstanding business?” Frost eyed the room conspicuously. The room was silent as Fleice’s words hung in the air. They were really doing it. Desiree glowed from the excitement bubbling up inside of her. If this operation was a success, she could pass her Trial and move to a Battalion leader! The officers were quiet and didn’t seem to mirror her enthusiasm. “Then you are dismissed. We leave at sun-up. Gallaher awaits.” He smirked.

The officer’s filed out of the war room one-by-one to return to their respective companies. When Desiree stepped outside of the tent, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with nighttime air. She was exhausted, and every muscle in her body ached, screaming with intensity as if she had been buried enough a bunch of stone. It had been a quiet time on the travel from Karonus and relatively uneventful, at least until this morning. She stretched out her arms and cracked her neck and found her gaze drifting toward the night sky. It was a clear night with the moon and stars shining brilliantly, illuminating the campsite as if it were midday.

“Lady Sandsten,” a quiet voice came from behind, startling her. It was A’ Shan.

She breathed deeply, calming her nerves, and rolled her eyes. Can’t I have just five minutes… “It’s late, A’ Shan. Why are you out prowling around the camps at this hour?” She turned to face him. His usual black coif was asymmetric, with points sticking out like a cow had just made a meal of it. He was slouched and wringing his hands tightly. Maybe he’s just always uneasy? Are all mages like this? She thought, trying to recall examples of Vas’s occasional meekness. “What is it now, A’ Shan?” Desiree asked.

He took a deep breath. “I just wanted to apologize, Miss. I was nervous. I never encountered Faebeasts before. I was woefully unprepared.” He bowed his head deeply, his torso almost parallel to the ground. “I hope that you can forgive me!”

“You’re… fine?” She said, ending in a question. She wasn’t sure of the appropriate reaction to such apologetic formality. Desiree’s mind raced for a way out of this awkward situation. “Just-just pick your head up. We’re all still here and in one piece. So, there’s no reason for this,” she said hurriedly, trying to lift him up.

“Yes, ma’am, sorry, ma’am.” He lifted back up and started to walk away, looking even more dejected.

Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to do. Desiree sighed heavily. She realized that she pitied him. “How- how old are you anyway, A’ Shan?” Hoping to end the conversation on a positive note. “Where did you train?”

“I-I’m eighteen Lady Sandsten. I haven’t had any special or localized training, though.” He paused and turned back around, looking more relaxed. “At least, not really. Everything I know is mostly self-taught or was taught to me in passing by the mages here.”

“So, you didn’t have a Grandmaster or anyone to instruct you?” She replied. That explains a lot.

“Well, no, I suppose not. I did have a master, up until I was sold into the Legion, about six years ago. My Ma and Pa needed the money, and the Imperial Legion just happened to be trying to recruit new mages. And, well, here I am,” He scratched the back of his head and motioned to the rest of the camp. A weak, breathy chuckle escaping his lips, almost as if he was hissing. “I was hoping, at the end of this mission, I could finally be properly trained. Maybe then I would be of more use to you, Mistress.”

“That’s quite the story, A’ Shan,” Desiree said softly. “I may have misjudged you. I apologize.” She buried her head in her chest to hide her embarrassment. How could she be so insensitive? She had no room to be judgemental. In terms of military life, Desiree hadn’t had much experience either.

The only reason she was able to get into Talinzor’s was because of Vas, in the first place. He argued her case in the Preliminaries. Desiree, herself, was a farmer’s daughter from the fields of Verastra. She had no title or nobility to her name. Its why she was here. She needed to ensure that she and her family would be able to live, not even comfortably, just… live. Verastra was one of the more impoverished territories in Karonus. Even with the income from her family’s farm, they still barely managed to make enough to keep Desiree and her brothers fed and clothed.

“I appreciate that, but it’s largely unnecessary. Please, we’re all here for the same purpose.” He smiled, his Jaseiki heritage prevalent in the moonlight. He had a handsome face with narrow, black eyes and round cheeks, finished by a sharp, squared chin. He was thin, almost sickly, and Desiree wasn’t sure if it was because he was just growing out of his awkward teen years or instead due to his history and upbringing.

“I suppose you are right, A’ Shan,” She smiled kindly. He reminded her of one of her younger brothers, eager and yearning for approval. Desiree yawned the events of the day, finally starting to catch up with her. “If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to inform me. Just make sure you announce your arrival next time.” She smiled weakly, her eyes bleary with sleep.

“No, ma’am. Get some rest, I hear we got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” The young mage smiled and returned to his tent.