18. The Second Patrol

The night ended with their mentors, John and Luka, leaving the encampment. A new day was upon them. Word spread throughout the ranks that greater consolidation of forces was being used. A play unfolded that the footmen had yet to understand, but the tension surrounding their quarters felt heavy like smog suffocating their lungs.

In the living quarters of the ivory tent stood Nathanial, Fredrick, and Richard, armed to the teeth with their iron armor and blades. They had each stepped into a new realm of strength. While the duo training with Luka had formed their second star, Richard had somehow created his third.

Nathanial glanced to the side, staring at the golden screen that hovered harmlessly in the air.

[ Quest Completed: Survive The Watchman’s Training. ]

[ Reward: Aura Regeneration (Novice) ]

A simple message, but one that delivered its meaning while adding a crucial tool to his arsenal. With enhanced aura regeneration, he could fight longer. The skill would soon pull its weight in his upcoming engagements, and despite the emptiness in their hearts as they went their separate ways from their mentors, he felt a surge of confidence take root.

“I’ll miss those bastards,” Fredrick said.

Richard elbowed him. “Have some respect; they’ve only treated us well. Even provided us with new equipment when they didn’t need to.”

“I know, I was just trying to lighten the mood.”

“The mood won’t get any better until we figure out what’s going on. Just finish your preparations and let’s get going.”

Nathanial fastened the straps of his armor that covered the blue tabard of their homeland. The four silver stars surrounding a crown stood proudly on his shoulders, and the iron sword stayed firmly on his belt. A call to arms roared through their ranks. Men rushed to gather their equipment, all but the three that were already fully prepared.

They heard the stampede of boots and the dastardly cries of their comrades. Fredrick shut his mouth for a moment before revealing his troubled expression. The reality of the war was back on their doorstep. Hundreds would die, and now they began their march. Back to the once open grass plains, trampled into nothing more than a dirt field of dried blood and broken dreams.

“I guess their constant nagging has finally paid off, huh?” Fredrick lifted the flap of the tent’s entrance and peeked outward. “While we’re ready, everyone else is in utter chaos.”

“A few days without conflict, and now everyone’s panicking.” Richard shook his head. “It’s pathetic if you ask me.”

Nathanial rested his hand on the hilt of his blade. “It just shows you how much pressure the Order has taken off our ranks. Now that they’re gone, we’re back to where we started except in better condition. Let’s get going. We need to meet the other members of the patrol.”

“Do you think we’ll see that Chris guy again?” Fredrick asked.

Nathanial shrugged his shoulders, remembering their dimwitted patrol leader. “Who knows? Fate has a way of playing tricks on us, and knowing our luck, we’ll probably see him again.”

“We’re never lucky.”

“Perhaps we should add a daily prayer to our daily routine to increase the odds,” Richard added.

“Ha! Nice try, but you’ll never get me to pray,” Fredrick replied.

Nathanial watched them bicker before making his way to the entrance. The dense, muffled thud of dirt reached him. He could hear the rattle of gear, the metallic jangle of chains, and the distinct shuffling hiss of loose pebbles being kicked aside.

The other two stared at Nathanial’s back as he left their abode and trailed right behind him. Before their eyes was the full might of the Everheart forces along this section of the front lines. Hundreds to thousands of men were preparing for their departure.

Banners of various knight orders fluttered in the wind. A crest of a hearth resting in a wreath, a dove carrying a silver branch, and a salamander breathing fire. Those were the three groups assigned to their ranks. Nathanial reached for the iron helm that was tied to the side of his belt, pulling it free before donning it.

The cold iron met the sun’s warm rays. In moments, word began spreading from one side to another that a major battle would soon take place, and the tension pressed down on their shoulders. Yet, Nathanial didn’t care. It felt just like any other day, and soon a familiar group came into sight.

At the very center was Chris, his curly brown hair slumped over his eyes and tan hands battered from swinging his sword.

The same men from their patrol surrounded him.

Nathanial stopped in front of them, and their gazes met for a moment. Even with the army preparing to march at a single word from their commander, they still needed patrols to scout the perimeter now that the watchmen had left.

“It’s you,” Chris muttered.

“That’s right, despite the circumstances from the last patrol, it seems we’re still in the same group if you’re here.” Nathanial glanced at the other men. “I take it the party’s still the same?”

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“Commander’s orders.”

Nathanial heard Fredrick click his tongue behind him. “Then are you leading us?”

“No, not this time.”

“Then who’s the one in charge?”

All the other men stared at Nathanial. His eyes widened in shock at what they were saying, and even Richard was caught off guard by the sudden reveal.

Nathanial looked around with a conflicted expression. The weight of the survivors’ stares pressed against him heavier than his armor. He had never really led a group before, and the first time was when they barely made it out of the Empire’s ambush. Now the commander expected him to take responsibility for their lives?

What a troublesome task they pushed onto me.

Nathanial stared at the men, unsure if they would even follow his orders. Yet the light in their eyes said otherwise, like after the entire predicament, they trusted him. He felt troubled given the situation, but had no choice but to accept it.

“Alright,” Nathanial said, his voice loud enough for the entire group to hear. “Who has the map with the proposed route?”