The Emperor, shrouded in kind glory

Put his arms on my shoulders when I doubted my own mind.

He said, “You need not doubt, for I am here to guide.

Let all painful memory and tired feeling drain

Like salty rainwater into the sand.

-no. 29, compositions of the eternal veteran

Outside Etyslund – 7 days after arrival

The air was thick with mist, thick drops that felt like they might fall as rain and lashed against Arshay’s face with each step forward. Squelching ground made it difficult to push forward, each time he raised his foot from the muck an effort. It was no wonder that so much of the Vale was unsettled. In seven days of chaos – tenuous occupation, failed negotiation, all-out battle – Arshay had almost forgotten how miserable it was to trek through the Vale in his soldier’s armor. Surely the Valers themselves knew better ways – paths and techniques hidden roads that allowed them to cross the landscape quicker – but Arshay was truly lost. He knew, of course, that if he went far enough north and east he would surely find the city that formed the Valers’ effective capital. The way the landscape was shaped, he wouldn’t be able to miss it without leaving the Vale entirely. But until then, well, all he had was the supply of food from an out-of-fuel vehicle and his own gear. Trail rations could keep him going for a long time, but he’d be miserable all the way.

Even so, that was fine. He wasn’t fighting anymore. He had gotten out without killing anyone and without being killed, that was the important part. And now he was headed to Kivv, and his comrades were headed to Carakhte, and nobody would have to kill each other anymore. He could get to the city and maybe the Valers would come up with a peace treaty, maybe he could help them out.

In the distance he saw another figure, another soldier clad in black and silver and red and gold, just like him. Arshay stopped and looked at the distant figure, shielding his eyes from the sun as he stared, trying to discern facial features. The figure turned its head and Arshay caught a glance of Zoe’s sweat-darkened salt-and-pepper hair.

She’s got to be in the same boat as me, he thought on seeing Zoe’s slow approach. Her head was turned down against the wind, her arm up in front of her. She was getting closer, slowly, but clearly struggling. She held up one arm – her left – while the right arm hung almost limply at her side. Was she hurt?

Arshay glanced over his shoulder, toward the north. Would it be worse or better for two Invictans to show up at Kivv’s gates instead of one? Would the Valers kill them both on site, or capture them, wondering why they had come unarmed? Would they assume that Arshay was a deserter if he went alone, but loyal if he went with Zoe? Or the other way around – that a lone Invictan soldier could only be an agent? Arshay wished he could take his armor off, but he didn’t like the idea of being unprotected from the elements and didn’t have any better clothes. He cursed Imperial standard-issue provisions. How did those damn Valers manage to move so comfortably in this damn miasmic air, anyhow?

Sighing, a slow sigh that turned into a dismayed half-laugh, Arshay turned and began to walk toward Zoe, waving his arm over his head as he went. He knew she wouldn’t hear him if he shouted, so he didn’t waste his breath.