“...Kai ôd-nûntîaram, Kai ôd-nûntîaram, Kai ôd-nûntîaram; paiajem nikîm ai ôv-zikôlîov. Antî aran.” Finished the old priest, dark robes blending in with the pre-dawn world around him.

“Kaia bâlon.” Agreed the assembled soldiers, Turaz included. They rose from the kneeling position, removing the two fingers they placed upon their foreheads. Brenan turned away from the impromptu altar with it's eight-pointed star of silver, and stepped to the side. One by one, each soldier went up to the altar, bowed their head to the star, and moved on. Everyone was in their armor already, a second kneeling to the star as was the custom would be skipped today. The knight and his chief sergeant watched the procession pass by, before they too moved forward. Haior went first, and finally, it was Turaz's turn. He bowed to the star, eyeing the third ray on the right side. Saint Aikâlon, Defender of Man; ask the Lord of Heaven to keep an eye on my family should I fall today. The Defender of Man had heard from Turaz many times over the years, Turaz liked to think he could afford to be less formal now. He moved away from the star, to join Haior and Brenan.

“It's time.” Said the sergeant.

“Time indeed.” Turaz nodded, putting on his helmet.

“I do hope you return again, Sir Turaz” Brenan said, clasping his hands together. “I'd rather not find your body going to the pyres once this is all over.”

“I don't intend to die today.” The knight replied. “I intend to make the enemy do that instead... Lord of Heaven grant them peace.”

“Antî aran...” The priest repeated, and retreated into the darkness, no doubt to ready his acolytes for the post-battle casualties.

“Did you understand all that?” He heard a female voice ask. Tempest Blackwind, always watching... “I know you can.”

“Yes...” A weaker voice replied. And Snowy Farpeak too, no surprise there. The two were inseparable when Tempest wasn't off on Aharôs's scouting missions.

“What are you two doing up so early?” Turaz asked, stifling a yawn, and looking in their general direction.

“Because there's too much noise to sleep.” Replied the Blackwind queen.

“So you came to watch the morning prayer, my queen?” Sergeant Haior said skeptically.

“Well... Why not?” Countered the young pegasus.

“Whatever you say, my queen. We have a battle to win. And this time, Aharôs means it. Do not get in trouble.” Turaz pointed at her warningly.

“Aren't you going to provide information on the enemy to the Prince, though?” Asked Haior, trying to scratch his head, but quickly realizing his helmet was in the way.

“Change of plans. Aharôs wants me to stay here for this one.” Stated Tempest, a little too nonchalantly. Was she hoping for something like that? wondered the knight. In fact, Tempest almost sounded relieved! That was a disconcerting thought.

“You two have fun then.” Said Turaz. What is it they do all the time, anyway? That would be a question answered another day. This day was for war. “We'll be off actually fighting.”

“I envy you.” Tempest replied dryly, nudging Snowy and moving off. Her companion followed obediently, stealing another dark glance at Turaz. That was about as hostile as the beige mare got...

“Equestrians.” Sighed Haior. “Don't think I'll ever understand them.”

“And those two were practically raised human.” Noted Turaz.

“Strange pair.” The sergeant commented. That's for sure. But I guess all fifteen year old girls are a bit odd, even Equestrian royalty. Snowy was a few years older though, Turaz wasn't sure what to think about her.

“Let's get moving, we don't have all day to talk.” He commanded. The two quickly caught up to the still-assembling column Turaz commanded. As usual, his men were near the front of the marching assembly, given his favored position with Prince Aharôs. Ahead of him was Baron Kairôs, behind him Sir Eberis, and behind Eberis was Mayor Pashal. There were more commanders and their columns further back still, but Turaz didn't know any of them. At the front was the Prince himself, plus his zôshamen. I'm not sure what good heavy cavalry will do against an entrenched enemy... Still, it was best to be prepared.

It was a mostly silent march over the two miles to the battlefield. The foothills of the coastal mountains were heavily wooded, but this was on the edge of that region; there was much more open space down near the river Zachîr's valley than there was in the mountains. Turaz noticed both trees and open fields pass by as they marched along the meager dirt roads. At least there's no mud. The spring rains were over, now they'd just get intermittent showers until some three weeks after St. Zefîr's Day. Athair and Verâd were both rainy lands.

Dawn had just arrived when they came to the hill the Blackwinds had seen the Verâdîm at. True enough, the enemy was there. An entire half-season had passed, and up until this point, the rebels had avoided an open confrontation. No longer. As they had drilled many times before, Turaz took his column to the left of Baron Kairôs's, moving up alongside it. Eberis went right, Pashal went left, the column behind him went right, and so forth, until the Athairîm army was lined up for battle. Aharôs and his riders had disappeared.

“Sir, I don't see any artillery up there.” Reported Sergeant Haior, handing his spyglass to Turaz. “Well, no more than half a dozen cannons. Practically nothing compared to what we brought.” True enough, Turaz counted only five small cannons.

“This should be fast.” The knight stated, wringing his hands on the handle of his halberd. “I just wonder when Aharôs will send us at them.”

“Not much longer now, I've got our orders.” Announced young Baron Kairôs, appearing on the scene. Like his men, he marched on foot into battle, and he lead from the front. Kairôs was bold, that was for sure. But if he lived through this war, he'd be worshiped by the other Thechai who made it through as well. Every commoner loves a noble who stands alongside them. Word was that Reshîv fought like that too.

“What's our plan, my lord?” Asked Turaz.

“Our Blackwind friends have reported that there are three trenches in total, one before the hill, and two on the hill itself. As I speak, my artillerymen are digging ramps to elevate their cannons upon, if we did our math right, then we'll be able to drop shots on them from above.” Kairôs was obviously confident in his cannoneers' abilities. “Under cover of this bombardment, we'll advance down the center and storm the first trench. After we've taken that... Well, we'll wait on further orders while sitting in the dirt!” Laughed the Baron.

“Seems a bit simple.” Noted the knight.

“Only us two are advancing down the center. Pashal's column will be taking a trip around through the woods and hitting them from the left side. Eberis is doing the same for the right. If everything goes right, they should be trapped on the hill.” Kairôs explained.

“And who's to stop them from just going up the hill and down the other side, my lord?” Interjected Haior.

“As we distract them from three sides, Aharôs's heavy cavalry will make their way around the hill, and be waiting for the inevitable retreat. The Verâdîm will walk right into a charge.”

“If everything goes right.” Repeated Turaz. “Here's to hoping it does...”

“I'd drink to that, but I'd rather not be drunk in combat.” Replied Kairôs. “I'll see you in the trenches, Sir.” With that, the Thechai Baron departed for his own column.

“Looks like we've got a fairly typical Aharôs strategy, then.” Turaz said to his sergeant. “Attack, attack, attack.”

“It hasn't failed yet...”

“Yet.” One day, it would fail... Turaz doubted that day was here, though. The Athairîm had everything on their side, except for the high ground. Slowly, the columns lined up just beyond the treeline. In between them were the cannons, placed on hastily constructed ramps of earth to gain more elevation. Two figures emerged from the forward trench on the far side of the field, a stark black banner with the eight-pointed silver star in one's hands. A truce? wondered Turaz. That was the only reason to bring out the banner of the faith before battle.

“Let's go see what they want!” Shouted Baron Kairôs, waving Turaz to follow him.

“Well, no harm in that...” The knight said quietly. If the Verâdîm broke a truce under the banner of Heaven, they'd be slaughtered to a man and reviled worse than oathbreakers. It'd be doing the world a favor to get rid of them. Turaz walked at the side of Kairôs, who seemed to have taken charge of the battle. They were quickly joined by Sir Eberis and Mayor Pashal. The four Athairîm leaders met the two Verâdîm in the middle of the field.

“I am Kairôs Jevachis, Baron of the Seven Thechas, and the new Lord of Seshîlîon.” Stated Kairôs, removing his helmet. “This is Sir Turaz of Surana, Sir Eberis Takta of Vatherîon, and Mayor Jai Pashal of Sturaj. What is it you wish to discuss before Heaven?”

“I am Tamedar, of a small farm some many miles from here. We'd like to negotiate your withdrawal from Verâd.” Said one of the men, grizzled and old enough to have a beard that had gone white.

“Excuse me?” Asked Kairôs, raising an eyebrow.

“You are to leave this land and return what you have stolen. We will make our own path and elect our own King. We don't want Athairîm to rule us, not after what you've done to our realm.” Said the old Verâdîm.

“I don't think you're in any position to be negotiating for our withdrawal.” Laughed the Baron.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Replied Tamedar. “If anything, you should be on our side, Baron Kairôs, instead of sticking with those who consort with demons.” Looks like word of Sidâl's actions on our behalf is spreading...

“And why should he?” Mayor Pashal interjected, dancing his fingers on the head of his warhammer.

“Thecha was once independent, why not be independent once more?” The old man posed the question.

“By the laws of inheritance set down by the Emperor a thousand years ago, Thecha rightfully is a domain of Athair now. Unlike some, I have loyalty, and I follow Imperial law. Why is your realm the exception?” Kairôs countered, folding his arms.

“Verâd has broken with the Emperor. We are a free and independent people no longer willing to be ignored by a far-off ruler who has never stepped foot on this side of the Dashavon, let alone in our realm itself. And we will fight for that.” Stated Tamedar.

“If you're all so willing to fight for that, then why have your nobles left a peasant to lead a battle?” Asked Kairôs smugly.

“Because our best soldiers are escaping west to Jashenîon as we speak. You cannot go after them, because if you leave us behind, we will continue to harass your army. And by the time you're done with us, it'll be too late to stop them.” Tamedar retorted, equally as smugly.

“We've been had!” Whispered Turaz to himself.

“Clever Verâdîm.” Commented Kairôs, controlling his reaction as only nobility could.

“We may lose this war, but we'll make it so Athair suffers heavily for it. Fucking foreign invaders.” Spat Tamedar, before bowing shallowly in almost mock respect. He and his banner-bearer retreated to their own side, leaving the Athairîm to do the same.

“I have half a mind to kill them all.” Commented the Mayor of Sturaj. “Has there ever been so much trouble from so few troublemakers?”

“You might want to read up on the restoration of Imperial rule to Nîralska for more information on that.” Said Sir Eberis, speaking for the first time. “It was only a few years ago though, most people up here haven't heard about it yet.”

“That's life in the backwater.” Pashal sighed, putting on his helmet. “Well, let's get this battle over with. I feel the need to smash some heads.”

“I wouldn't put it quite the same, but I agree with the general idea. To your columns, men.” Commanded Baron Kairôs, putting on his own helmet as well. The three blue plumes bobbed with each step, and Turaz was glad he only had one to deal with.

“I take it negotiations fell through?” Asked Sergeant Haior, at the head of their column.

“No shit.” Turaz replied. “Just a bunch of time wasting.” Before Haior could say anything else, someone in the Thechai column sounded a trumpet. It's time. Almost all at once, the drums began in four columns. Another trumpet blast was heard.

“Column, advance!” Turaz ordered.

“Column, advance!” Bellowed Sergeant Haior to the rest of the men. Similar calls were heard from Kairôs's column, as both formations began to march towards the hill a good furlong in front of them. Banners fluttered in the wind, showing both the blue flower of Athair and the seven golden dragonflies of the Seven Thechas. Mayor Pashal's column veered off and continued through the woods, while Eberis skirted the other edge of the field.

From behind them came the first roars of the cannon bombardment. Their shot whistled through the air, arcing over the columns and landing near the Verâdîm trenches. Many found their marks, many missed and simply hit the ground on either side of the enemy. And the Verâdîm responded, despite only having a few light cannons. Several men were raked down, but the advance continued.

“Battle line, second formation!” Commanded Turaz, once they had gotten within fifty yards.

“Battle line, second formation!” Echoed his sergeant. The drums changed pace, the arquebusiers began spreading out, while the pikemen moved back; turning the column into something of a square. In the middle were halberdiers and swordsmen, surrounded by pikemen, who were in turn surrounded by the arquebusiers. It took several minutes to assemble, and the advance slowed to a crawl. Kairôs's men did a similar maneuver. All the while, the cannons continued.

“Continue the advance.”

“Column, advance!” And so it did. The drumbeats continued, pushing the soldiers closer and closer to the enemy. At thirty yards, the Verâdîm fired their first volley. A wall of white smoke went up, while Turaz heard several shots bounce off armor, and the cries of other men who were not so lucky to have quality equipment.

“Halt!”

“Column, halt!”

“Arquebusiers, form up!” Ordered the knight. Matches were lit, and the men in the first row kneeled down so those behind them could get a better shot. “Take aim... Fire!” The Athairîm let loose their own volley, aimed straight at the trench before them. Turaz noted it had little effect, most shots simply buried themselves in the dirt.

“Advance.”

“Column, advance!” Turaz had to time their advance carefully to arrive at the same time as Kairôs. The two had deliberately drifted apart for what they were going to do next. Another round of Verâdîm fire came, mowing down many more soldiers at such a short range.

“Battle line, fifth formation!”

“Battle line, fifth formation!” The arquebusiers stopped their advance, letting the pikemen take the lead and the halberdiers and swordsmen follow behind them. The entire square of men spread out into a long rectangle, meeting with Kairôs's own, who were doing the same thing. Turaz glanced at the flanks of the field, Eberis was rapidly advancing, while Pashal was nearing on the other side.

“Column, charge!”

“Column, charge! Vî-Athair bâlen!”

“VÎ-ATHAIR BÂLEN!” Roared the soldiers of Athair, surging forward the last few yards to the trench. A final Verâdîm volley thinned the ranks, every shot found its mark. The Verâdîm in the trenches above only helped with that, as two shots bounced off Turaz's chestplate, making him stumble backwards. A soldier behind him wasn't so lucky, one shot smashed right through his visor and killed him instantly. Then, they were upon the first trench.

Turaz stabbed his halberd downwards at the first arquebusier he saw, feeling the jarring impact of the the spike travelling through armor and flesh alike. A Verâdîm swordsman was upon him instantly, in retribution for his fallen comrade. The man wielded a two-handed weapon, and each swing knocked Turaz back a little further down the trench. He stepped back in anticipation of the next swing; the enemy's sword found air instead of the halberd shaft he expected, and the momentum of his own blade pulled him off to the side. The knight swung his weapon under the off-balance swordsman, sending him crashing into the ground. A swift stab to the neck ended his life.

“Sir, we're taking heavy losses from the fire above!” Sergeant Haior yelled from somewhere behind.

“Get everyone in the trench, then!” Ordered Turaz, using his halberd's blade to hamstring the unarmed legs of another Verâdîm. The enemy was quickly dispatched by another Athairîm. “Kairôs!” Shouted the knight.

“What do you require?” Roared back the Baron, from some many feet to the right. Turaz pushed his way through the dying melee and found the Thechai lord. All the while, he ducked and dodged as more shots from above whistled down.

“We took more losses than we thought.” Reported the knight. “I hope we have a better plan than simply charge again! We'll be going uphill this time!”

“Our cannons should be moving forward at this moment, they'll hopefully thin out the ranks above.” Kairôs responded.

“Hopefully?” Turaz asked incredulously. He noted the multitude of round dents in the Baron's armor, a testament to both the skill of the armorer and the reckless boldness of the young noble.

“You got any better ideas?” Asked back Kairôs, shrugging.

“I have one!” Announced a gruff voice that could only belong to Jai Pashal. Looks like the Mayor's attack went well enough then. “Get Aharôs to use his demons on these rebels. They'll scatter like ashes in the wind!”

“Were it so easy.” Said Turaz.

“You know something I don't, Sir Turaz?” Questioned Pashal.

“No demons, no sorcery. Aharôs is unreachable in any case.” Baron Kairôs stated, sticking his sword in the ground. “We do this exactly the way we were told to do.”

“I'm not too keen on dying in a full forward assault.” The Mayor of Sturaj commented darkly.

“None of us are!” Exclaimed Turaz, flinching at a near miss from an arquebus above.

“And why are we attacking with only four columns? We have several more just waiting out there! Why don't we do something?” Suggested Pashal, waving his warhammer towards the other Athairîm troops. “Here: We stay in the trench, right where we are, and provide covering fire for the others. They go up the sides of the hill and bypass the Verâdîm completely, attacking parallel to the trench. Once they begin their attack, we move up! It's still shit, but it's better than the alternative!”

“That... could actually work.” Nodded Kairôs to himself. “We'll do it. Signal the others the new plan!”

“What was the original plan?” Asked Turaz, but no one was listening. He returned to his own troops, and hunkered down. The Athairîm cannons started up again, slamming into the trenches above, or just slamming into the hillside harmlessly.

“Sir, do you get the feeling this could have been planned a lot better?” Questioned Sergeant Haior, arms over his head despite his helmet already protecting him from incoming fire.

“I definitely do, Sergeant.” Nodded Turaz, making sure his visor was still securely closed.

Slowly, the four more columns of Athairîm soldiers moved into the woods or the far side of the field, before turning towards the sides of the hill. The Verâdîm were well aware of this, and their few cannons were turned to redirect their fire on the new arrivals. A horn blew from the trench they were in, and Turaz figured that was the signal to move out.

“Column, rise!” He commanded, despite his men being in a formation that was anything but an actual formation.

“Rise!” Boomed Haior, pointing his sword up the hill. The arquebusiers stood and shot upwards, in the hopes of pinning the Verâdîm above down. It was another twenty yards up to the next trench, though... Turaz scrambled up the slope, before more gunfire forced him to hit the ground. Crawling it is! decided he. The others did likewise. From behind, the Athairîm fired again. The enemy's response was weaker than it had been before, and Turaz could hear clashing metal to his left. One of their columns had arrived. After much hardship, the knight and his men finally reached the second trench. Turaz was met with an arquebus barrel in his face.

The gunman fired.

“Fuck!” He yelled, clapping an armored glove to his visor. Pain shot through him, everything went dark, and his hands found a hole in the metal. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He swung his halberd blindly, hoping it'd hit an enemy. But he was wise enough to stay from jumping down into the trench. “Haior!”

“Sir?”

“Continue the attack, I've been wounded!” Roared Turaz over the din of battle, before throwing himself to the ground.

“As your command, Sir!” Affirmed Haior. The knight wasn't sure how long he laid with his head down on the slope, trying to be as small a target as possible. Finally, the clashing went away, and quiet descended.

“Turaz?” A voice asked. Kairôs!

“I'm here, my lord.” Answered he.

“What happened? Your Sergeant says you're wounded.”

“I got shot in the face. I don't know how bad it is, because I can't see.” Turaz pushed himself to his knees, feeling his way up to the trench.

“No shit you can't see, your visor is all crumpled! Fucking moron.” Laughed Kairôs. Hands fumbled at his helmet, and wrenched it off. Light! “...And you are actually wounded.”

“Lord of Heaven.” Sighed Turaz, as he squinted in the bright day. There was an odd dark spot off to his right, however... “How bad is it?”

“Well...” The Baron trailed off. “You're, uh, down an eye.”

“God damn it all.” Swore Turaz. “Right one, isn't it.”

“I'm afraid so.” Kairôs said apologetically. He took a closer look and cringed. “Good thing you had that visor, it must have slowed the shot enough so it didn't just fly right into your brain. Because it seems to still be in what's left of that eye.” A wave of lightheadedness overcame Turaz, stronger than the pain.

“I really didn't need to know that.” He groaned. “How fares the battle?”

“Well, Aharôs had one thing right, the Verâdîm tried to retreat over the hill after we took this trench. Undisciplined lot. The Prince's cavalry rode them down and took many prisoners.” Reported Kairôs. “Can't say the same about you though. I'm not sure how you're still standing right now.”

“I'm not either, to be honest.” Admitted Turaz. “Guess it hasn't really occurred to me I just lost my fucking eye.”

“You may want to see the acolytes about that.” Suggested Baron Kairôs, cringing again at the sight before him.

“That'd be for the best.”

Half a bell later, Turaz was sitting in one of the red tents of those sworn to Saint Alaia the Healer, Brenan among them. Cleaning out the wound and extracting the offending lead ball had not been a fun activity for the knight, and even he found his limits pressed.

“Leave it to you to get shot in the face on a minor engagement.” Commented Brenan.

“And a ruse at that.” Turaz growled. “How do I look?”

“I've seen worse.” The priest said, as he applied the bandage patch over the gaping hole now marring Turaz's face. “Now, I've got other casualties to attend to. Take this,” Brenan handed him a small bottle, and then dipped his hands in a bowl of water. “and get some sleep.”

Sleep was not on Turaz's list of things to do just yet, though. Aharôs summoned the column leaders for an after-battle report in his own tent, and it was quite the event.

“I've never seen what should have been a simple operation botched so badly!” Exclaimed Jai Pashal. Captain Eshanis of the Sturaj guard naturally went along with it, and so did Sir Eberis.

“I'm afraid I have to agree, my prince.” Said Baron Kairôs. “We suffered astoundingly heavy casualties, over two thousand dead or wounded. In contrast, the Verâdîm loss is half of that!” Might as well throw in my opinion...

“I lost my eye.” Grumbled Turaz. “I can't help but feel we could have pulled that off a lot better. What went wrong?” Prince Aharôs said nothing, only looked from person to person.

“I'll tell you what went wrong!” Mayor Pashal fumed. “It was a flawed plan from the start! We have fewer than five thousand Verâdîm stuck on a hill, and we decide to just walk up and attack? We should have left a force behind to keep them there, and gone after the real targets! Now Prince Reshîv has at least two thousand more battle-hardened veterans to fight against, and that only delays this war from ending even longer!” Ranted the gruff Mayor.

“From what I understand, you met heavier resistance than you expected.” Duke Îrilôs said. “Some things just can't be accounted for...”

“You weren't even there, you coward. We met exactly the kind of resistance we were expecting! Or at least, we were expecting.” Pashal gestured to himself and the men from Sturaj. “I warned you this would happen, and it did, you incompetents!” Lord of Heaven, tempers are flaring now...

“Coward?” Replied Îrilôs, almost breaking his constantly amused but dismissive persona. “I don't think you know what life is like as an Imperial Envoy-”

“I don't give a fuck.” Pashal pointed at Îrilôs, before turning back to Aharôs. “I'm blaming you for this, Aharôs. If Prince Reshîv was here, we would have never have lost as many as we did, and your knight would still have both eyes.”

“If Reshîv was here, we'd still be sitting outside Seshîlîon.” Coldly answered Aharôs.

“Better than consorting with demons.” The Mayor shot back.

“If you cannot stomach the methods I use to achieve victory, perhaps you should leave our company.” The heir to the Kingdom said quietly, not looking at the Mayor.

“Maybe I will.” Threatened Pashal.

“Maybe you will. In the middle of enemy territory, with no supply route or direct access home... I welcome you to try.” Aharôs continued on. He raised his eyes up from the table, and stared at Pashal like Turaz would stare at a heretic. “This is war. People will die. I will end this as quickly as possible, no matter the cost. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” Muttered the Mayor.

“Sacrifices will be made, lives will be lost, but we will achieve the victory my father and half-brother have failed to get on their own.” Stated the Prince. “They were not strong enough in will to do what was necessary. I am. If any of you think for a second I would not put you in harm's way to further the cause of your realm, then perhaps it is time you re-evaluated your judgment of my character. This meeting is over.” Aharôs waved them away. The Sturaj men left silently, and more importantly, with no bow of respect.

“I fear trouble from that one.” Commented Îrilôs.

“I don't like where this is going, my prince.” Turaz said. “The last thing you want to do is alienate the leader of the city that supplies Nikadîon.”

“I expect I won't be residing in Nikadîon again. Vatherîon will be my destination when this is over.” Retorted Aharôs, drumming his fingers on the table. What does that mean? “For what it counts, I am sorry you lost your eye, Sir Turaz. But as I said... Sacrifices must be made.”

“Of course, my prince.” Nodded Turaz. “If you excuse me, I'd like to get some rest. It's been a long day.”

“Go.” Acknowledged Aharôs. “Tomorrow is a rest day, then we move for Jashenîon. It's time to end this war.” Turaz bowed, and left. Sleep had never been so appealing. As he walked through the camp, the knight noted how dispirited everyone seemed. The unworldly victories, the burning of Rôstôs, and now the victory at this nameless hill that didn't seem a victory at all... It really doesn't feel like we're winning, even if we are... These aren't our victories. Were they? Turaz wasn't sure anymore, and he arrived outside his tent feeling rather defeated.

“Lord of Heaven, what happened to you?” Asked the absolutely last voice Turaz wanted to hear.

“Tempest Blackwind, mind your own business.” Turaz sighed. Where had she come from? It wasn't even fully dark yet! Oh right, the blind spot... That would take some getting use to.

“But what happened?” Pressed the impossible pony.

“Your eye...” Came a second voice. Of course, Snowy Farpeak is here too. The two might have been the same individual, with Tempest merely speaking more often.

“Don't you two have something to brood about off on your own?” The knight went inside his tent, and the two Equestrians stood at the entrance.

“I just want to know what went wrong. You've got a dozen dents in your armor and several cuts, not to mention a patch over your eye!” Tempest stated.

“Never let Prince Aharôs plan a battle again, alright? You hold more influence with him than anyone else, Tempest.” Turaz waved a weary arm at her. “You understand?”

“Uh... Yes?”

“As for my eye, I got shot. But I'm alive, and I'll make do.” He simply said. “Gunpowder sure makes the field even... Half-blinded by a peasant!” The knight continued to mutter. You were at his level once too. But that was a long time ago.

“Oh.” Said the Queen of Highcrest. “How many did we lose?” She says we like she's one of us. Was she?

“Two thousand, for a thousand of theirs. I really don't want to know how Jashenîon will go for us if we can't take a simple hill without twice the losses of the enemy.” Turaz spoke, unbuckling his armor piece by piece. Tempest was right, it was severely dented... More shit to get fixed.

“We'll have Sidâl.” Commented Snowy.

“Well, fuck. We trade massive casualties for the demon-consorter.” The knight groaned again. “Will you two just leave? I've had a rough day.”

“Alright, alright, we're going.” Said the blue-grey pegasus, annoyed. This has been a rougher than any day you've ever had... Turaz almost said it. Almost. After he had shed his armor, he let himself fall into his cot. He took a drink from the small battle the priest had given him, and sleep hit him instantly. Tomorrow, he could deal with the missing eye and the low morale. But Turaz didn't intend to wake up until at least midday.

Author's Notes:

Author's note: We pirate now. And apparently there's an author's notes box too!