Angels swirl around me, waiting for my last breath

Eyes soulless and black, wings white like ash

I fear many things, but today I just fear Death

Elucard’s vision blurred as he opened his eyes. The world around him moved sluggishly and sounds echoed for an eternity. A black furred harekin knelt beside him firing a lilac colored bow. She looked at Elucard and took hold of his collar. Elucard watched as the battlefield grew further and further away until all grew dim, then black.

***

“He’s a captain, looks like SMO, but he’s an elf.”

“Probably fell from the sky. I see his flag is Long Whisper, probably attached to Silvertail’s unit.”

“I found him pretty banged up… is he dead?”

“No—wait he’s waking up!”

Elucard’s eyes slowly opened once more and found himself in a tent. Humans dressed in medical uniforms walked in between soldiers swathed in bloodied bandages. The smell of charred flesh filled his nose forcing him to roll on his side and gag.

A medic placed his hand on Elucard’s side and spit out a rapid series of questions. “Captain, do you know where you are? Do you know your name? Do you remember your unit?”

Elucard heaved up a wad of mucus and blood before rolling onto his back again. He struggled to sit up. His back was stiff and his head pounded. His entire body ached. He looked around at the faces waiting for his answer. One was a human medic with a square face and a rugged jawline. The other was the harekin he saw before. Her fur was all black except for the white tufts about her face, which resembled a skull.

He stared blankly for a moment or two, trying to remember the information the medic sought from him. His memory was foggy. Bits and pieces of Mave and Baron Wallenstein floated in his mind, small like a dot. Others bounced around. Lightning, rain, falling. Falling. Falling.

The pieces grew bigger in size, interlocking together and the puzzle soon became a full picture. He was knocked from his drake and fell to the ground. He didn’t remember how he survived, but he did know where he was, and most importantly, who he was.

“Captain Elucard Freewind, 1st Anti-Rogue Ops division,” he answered. “I’m in New Estinia—on the shores of Ghostoc Port…” he continued with a hoarse voice. His throat felt ragged and weak. He reached for a tin cup of cool water, pouring it down his burning throat. It quenched his thirst, but did not cure him of his other ailments.

“Excellent!” exclaimed the medic. “Other than a few scrapes and bruises, no injury seems serious. You are a very lucky elf, Captain.”

The harekin sighed with relief. “You escaped the Hands of Alanna tonight, but be sure as a wine wets your whistle that they’ll keep their eyes on you!”

Elucard groaned as his side sent a sharp pain down his leg. “What’s your name, rabbit?”

The harekin shot to attention and gave Elucard a smart salute. “Corporal Oleanader Tardrane, 3rd Company of Bows, 10th Regiment of Foot. I’m with the Southtail army, sah!” she said.

Elucard winced as he returned the salute. “Well Corporal, thanks for saving my life.”

“Merely doing my duty, sah. I was just passing through,” Oleander said with a humble nod.

The nuance that Oleander was a black rabbit was not lost on Elucard. The elf hid a small smile and chuckled to himself at what must have been a small cosmic gag set up by Alanna herself. He gingerly laid back down, minding any unseen cuts or bruises, and closed his eyes for some much needed rest.

***

Mave Silvertail rested at the beach camp next to the warm bonfire as troops celebrated over the successful sacking of Ghostoc Port. Essie knelt next to her, examining the harekin’s swollen face.

“Surprisingly, nothing’s broken,” Essie said as she took out a small needle and a spool of thread from her medicine bag. “But you’ll need some stitches for your cheek.”

“I’m a Silvertail, we’re more durable than we look.” Mave winced with each word she spit out. “Any word on Elucard?”

“I saw him in the medical tent as I was fetching some supplies. He’ll be fine, just a little bruised up,” said Essie. “It's not like another scar or two will bother him.”

“I suppose he’s a lot tougher than he looks too?” Mave flinched as the alcohol-dipped needle poked her flesh. “Ow! Slowly there, love.”

Essie rolled her eyes.

“So why don’t you tell me a bit about our brooding elf? Has Elucard always been so moody?” asked Mave.

Essie huffed, but answered the question all the same. “As long as I’ve known Elucard, he’s carried a lot of baggage on his shoulders. He never talks about his days as a Black Rabbit—”

“The assassin guild, right?”

“Yes, the Long Whisper based assassin clan,” clarified Essie. “A notorious band of mercenaries who had a bone to pick with our fearless leader.”

Mave paused, biting her lip as the thread sewed her long gash shut. “You don’t like him, do you?”

“He is highly trained and a good teacher. It was very appealing at first, and dare I say… fun?” Essie lowered her head, giving up a long berth of silence. “But the longer you are with him, the more the cracks begin to show. He’s a broken man. His darkness runs deep. He can’t be trusted to do the right thing.”

“As long as he finishes the mission, I can work with broken,” said Mave.

“It’s all about the mission with him. It’s his Black Rabbit nature, I think. He’ll burn down anything and anyone in order to complete his mission. Even his friendships.”

“An assassin has no friends, it’s what keeps them ruthless enough to take a life without remorse.” Mave grew quiet. She could feel the conversation turn heavy.

“No. No I suppose they don’t. Elucard certainly cares for no one…”

“Well…” Mave searched for a way to lighten the mood. “Well, how about we grab some grub and find the rest of the crew?”

Essie cut the excess thread with a pair of scissors. “I suppose I could stomach another day of stew.”

“Oh-ho, love! Can't be blue about me crew when there's a pot of bean stew, eh wot? Stew's what's for breakfast, and stew's what's for dinner!

Give a man something less, and he'll get a lot slimmer!!” Mave danced around the sulking Essie as they made their way to the soup line.

“Always the cheery one, eh, Mave?” asked Essie.

“Someone has to be!” laughed Mave. Happy the mood had shifted. “I bet Quinn saved us a spot in line! Come on, let’s go!”

***

As dawn broke the horizon, Marcus laid barely conscious in a yawl. Wrapped tightly in wool blankets, he reached out for Wiccer.

Wiccer bowed his head, Dallin stood above him with his hands placed on Wiccer’s shoulders for comfort. Greyblade rested on his battle ax off to the side.

Wiccer grasped his father’s hand. Memories of Avern welled in his mind. “Father, you will be okay. We’re sending you back to Varis to heal, and then you can come back and lead our men to victory.”

Marcus hacked and coughed. He groaned and winced from his aching wounds. “Yes, I will be okay. Do not worry for me, but I will not return to lead these men.”

Wiccer tightened his grip and searched Marcus’s eyes for an explanation. “Why? What are you saying, Father?”

“You… will lead… them, Wiccer.”

“No, I am not ready for this! The men deserve a veteran leader! I beg of you Father, you can't just hand the lives of our soldiers to me like this!” Wiccer begged. Not yet ready to be a leader of this caliber.

Marcus struggled as he brought his other hand to cover Wiccer’s. “We both know you… are ready, my son.” Marcus turned to the two kings. “See to it my son learns… a thing or two… from the both of you.”

Dallin nodded in understanding. “Your son will make a fine general.”

Greyblade slapped Wiccer’s back. “I shall see to it that Wiccer earns us a victory!”

Marcus turned back to his son. “You have what you need… to be the true leader… that I know you are. Apply it, Wiccer. Apply your cunning… wit… and experience. Never second guess yourself. Don’t back down… from a challenge. I believe in you… my son.”

Wiccer nodded his head, but the news clouded his mind. He had led ARO and his company, but even as a major, how could he replace his father?

The legendary Marcus. Hero of the Serpent Seas and War of Chains. How could he step into boots of that magnitude?

Father believes in me. Avren did too. It is time I believe in myself, he said to himself.

The sailors pushed off and paddled the yawl back to the Sea Sprinter. Wiccer stood on the shore. The low tide waves splashed against his boots and the misty air left a film of dew on his skin. Wiccer knew what he had to do. His father was right, he had the tools of a general at his disposal and he had the skill and experience to apply them.

Wiccer swelled his chest and saluted his father. I’ll make you proud.