I never should have left the front.
Those were the thoughts that consumed Ulrick's mind as he watched Elise run out of the infirmary. Watched Eza run after her. He’d watched so many people die that night. He’d tried to save King Thias when he was shot, had felt Marsh’s brain matter on his face. Had held Milo as he begged him to not let him die. He could still see that kid’s face in his mind, clear as day. As if it were happening all over again. He saw it every time he closed his eyes. Felt the helplessness as he tried to stop the bleeding. Felt the warm, sticky blood all up his arms. He could still feel it, no matter how much he tried to wash it off.
“I should’ve been the one to die,” Ulrick said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. “I should’ve stayed and fought until they killed me.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Silas warned.
“Why not?” Ulrick asked. “I’m leadership, aren’t I? I’m supposed to take care of my men before myself. And what did I do? I left them. Got two of them killed. And then, I lead the Giskens right to Milo’s family, got his father killed, and ruined his sister’s life. None of that would’ve happened had I just-“
“Stop,” Silas said bluntly. “Stop feeling guilty just for fucking living, and stop blaming yourself for things you didn’t even do.”
Ulrick didn’t say anything; he didn’t have the energy to argue.
“Where’s Marsh’s wife?” he asked.
“You let Silas worry about that.” Doc was pawing through his medicine cabinet, apparently looking for something among the glass bottles. “You’ve still got a couple days of bedrest left.”
Silas sighed. “Thanks, Doc.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I guess it sounds better than dealing with Polain,” Silas said. “I’ll make Eza do that.”
“Is he on his way?” Ulrick asked.
“He was as of two hours ago,” Silas confirmed. “Should get here sometime tonight. Not exactly excited for that, but Eza insisted.”
“It was the right call,” Ulrick said.
Silas scoffed. “Right call or not, I’m not excited to have his hand all the way up my ass. He’s going to want to change every little thing about this place, and I’m going to have to focus on not killing him when he does it.”
“I think that’ll be the least of our worries.”
Silas fell silent for a few moments. A sort of darkness fell over the two of them, a foreboding. Neither of them wanted to say it, but they both knew what lay beyond the horizon. Knew what it would mean for everyone in the fort. What it would mean for all of Caithia.
Odds were, a lot of them would be dead by the time the Giskens were done with them. And there wasn’t much they could do about it.
“When are we going to tell the men?” Ulrick asked.
“When we give Marsh and Brewer their sendoff, tonight,” Silas said.
Ulrick wasn’t convinced. “Do you really want to tell them then?”
“Well, I certainly don’t want to tell them that we just became the front line, then announce the funeral of two of their friends who were just killed by those bastards.”
“They already know, anyway,” Doc added as he closed his medicine cabinet, a glass bottle in his hand.
Silas gave him a look. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You really think the boys aren’t talking?” Doc asked. “The rumor mill’s been going since y’all rode in, last night.”
“Fantastic,” Silas muttered. He looked back to Ulrick. “There you have it: they already know. No need in making everyone stop what they’re doing just to give them the bad news.”
Ulrick still didn’t agree with him, but he knew full well that arguing wasn’t going to help: Silas was many things, and the Gods knew that a stubborn ass was one of them.
“We’re not ready for this, Silas,” Ulrick said quietly. “I thought we were, but the way they broke through those lines like it was nothing…”
Ulrick Praetor, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve already given up,” Silas said. “Sure, we got scraped up a bit at the border, but they’ve lost the element of surprise, now. We’ve got an organized, trained army. You saw how long Kurzh lasted with a bunch of starving kids with sticks; surely, we can manage.”
Ulrick wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe him more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. But, he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t giving the Giskens credit where credit was due. They were organized. Ruthless. Disciplined in a way they could only dream of being. Yes, they were far better off than the Kurzhians were, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t take a miracle for them to not get slaughtered.
“I hope you’re right,” Ulrick finally said.
***
They had a funeral for Milo and Marsh that night. Commander Kurzhakova – Eza, as she insisted she call her - took Elise into town beforehand, made sure that she had a couple black dresses so she could mourn properly. Otherwise, she spent much of the day in solitude, only interacting with others on the odd occasion that Sergeant Hooten came with food and when Eza came to check up on her. When she wasn’t talking with them or eating, she was praying, using a beaten-up prayer book as a guide. She prayed for the souls of her father and her brother. Prayed that they’d be forgiven for any sins they hadn’t confessed before they died, prayed that they’d find Ma on the other side, prayed that they’d find peace and rest. That they’d be welcomed by the Gods with open arms.
Most of all, she prayed for signs. Signs that her family was watching from the other side. Signs of what she was supposed to do, now.
They gathered for the funeral that night, long after the sun had set. They all stood around a small stage that had been set up, wearing formal uniforms with black mourning bands around their forearms. Elise, Mrs. Marsh, and her three children – all under the age of ten – sat in places of honor on the left side of the stage. On the right sat Ulrick, Eza, the Watchman from the infirmary (Commander Baines, according to Sergeant Hooten), and two men she didn’t recognize. One of them wore the black habit of a priest, and a set of wire-rimmed glasses on his thin nose. The other was a Tsedangese man with white streaks in his black hair, which was pulled up in a bun. He wore a blue uniform, with gold epaulets and trim, black shoes polished to a shine, and an immaculate cavalry sword on his hip. He carried himself with an air of importance, and people seemed to defer to him.
The priest started the funeral, leading the group in prayers for the souls of their comrades. They were the same ones she’d heard at every other funeral, for the most part. Elise followed along in her missal as best she could with a throat raw from crying. Mrs. Marsh simply held her children close, tried to console them while crying, herself.
The prayers ended, and the commanders took over the proceedings. Ulrick and Eza presented Elise and Mrs. Marsh with the last pieces that remained of Milo and Marsh: a sword, wrapped in a black cloak. One for each of them. A long time ago, the cloak and the sword had been the mark of a Watchman, Commander Baines explained in a speech that he sounded very tired of giving. Now, they were ceremonial, kept in their footlockers until, Gods forbid, the day came to present them to their families.
The gathered Watchmen all saluted as Ulrick presented the cloak and sword to Elise, while Commander Kurzhakova presented it to Mrs. Marsh.
“I’m sorry,” Ulrick whispered as she took the cloak and sword. His eyes were red from crying.
All she could manage to do was nod as she tried to keep her composure.
Mrs. Marsh came apart when Eza handed her hers. She clutched the sword to her chest and collapsed to her knees, sobbing. Her youngest – a girl of about four – kept asking her what was wrong. Eza knelt down in front of her, tried to comfort her, but Mrs. Marsh was inconsolable. Eventually, Elise knelt down with her and hugged her, the tears now streaming freely down her own face.
“I can’t do this without him,” Mrs. Marsh whispered as Elise held her. “I need him. He has to come home…”
Tears streamed freely down Ulrick’s face. Sergeant Hooten looked like he was barely holding it in as he lead her away to recover, promising her that they wouldn’t let her or her children starve. Even Eza looked like she was getting emotional.
Commander Baines didn’t share any of their emotions. He almost looked angry as Ulrick and Eza sat down in their seats.
“Some of you might have heard rumors that Brewer and Marsh were killed by Giskens,” Commander Baines said as he addressed the Watchmen. “I’m here to settle that rumor once and for all: it’s true. The Giskens have broken through the front line. And according to reports, they’ve killed King Thias.”
Nobody in the crowd even dared to breathe. Elise felt sick to her stomach at hearing the news.
“They think that killing our king will make us all roll over and die. That we’re all easy targets, now. Obviously, they don’t know Caithians very well.”
A couple people in the crowd grunted in agreement.
“These Gisken bastards think they can come in, kill the people we care about,” Commander Baines continued. “Worst of all, they think we ain’t going to do a thing about it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on letting them get away with it!”
A couple cheers of assent went up from the crowd.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on letting Brewer and Marsh die for nothing,” he continued. “I plan on making every last one of ‘em pay for it. I plan on making them regret the day they set foot in Caithia. And I’m not going to rest until every last one of ‘em is out of here for good!”
More cheers.
“Now, am I going to have to do it alone? Which one of you have the balls to join me?” Commander Baines demanded.
The crowed roared. It sent goosebumps up her arms.
“All of you better get a good night’s rest, tonight,” Commander Baines said once the roar died down. “Because tomorrow, we begin the fight.” He drew the cavalry sword at his hip and held it aloft. “Ever watchful!”
“Always courageous!” The rest of the Watchman finished the motto.
All Elise could do was sit there and try to keep from wondering how many of them would be dead by the end of this.
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