The man called Tom Everick shifted atop a horse he wasn’t accustomed to, on a saddle stiffer than he would like, in a uniform far too uncomfortable. It had been more than a year since he’d sat in a saddle, and painful wounds stretched to the point that he thought they might open again. 

Behind him were what was left of his men and the prison camp that was their residence for the last year. He twisted back to look over the few hundred Belland soldiers. Faces gaunt, with shadowed eyes and hollow cheeks. Their eyes were empty and haunted. Their hands looked like his own; almost skin and bone. 

This was a stark cry from where they were a month ago. After he was broken, his men were no longer beaten as prisoners. Their meals became more than just watery gruel. Some had even gained weight. Some may never recover. The cursed blue uniforms hung loose on too many soldiers. Everick worried if they could handle going into battle again. Maybe he had signed their death sentence.

Once the proudest, fiercest, indomitable warriors of Belland now were reduced to this. 

Damn Rhineton. 

Recalling the day Rhineton came to him in his prison cell boiled the captain’s blood. 

Everick leaned against the grimy wall, no strength to sit up on his own. They’d switched his calves this time. If he moved, he was in pain. If he didn’t move, he was in pain. 

The heavy sound of footsteps jolted him awake, but he could tell it wasn’t one of the prison guards. 

The man who stepped into the cell was the man he hated above all. 

Against the grime and stench of the prison cell, Commander General Rhineton was out of place in his immaculate uniform. His eyes held the same disdain Everick saw the day he surrendered. Disdain and greed. 

Everick held his tongue that wanted to curse him, waiting for his enemy to speak. 

Face not betraying a thing, Rhineton spoke. “It’s been some time, Everick.”

He was answered with a glare.

Rhineton took his time taking in the prison room. “Your circumstances are not very favorable, are they?”

The enemy commander stopped in front of Everick and leaned down. “All it takes to get out of here is to vow allegiance to the Empire.”

Everick spat in his face. The spittle rolled down Rhineton’s cheek. 

Unperturbed, Rhineton took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face clean. 

“Maybe you’re comfortable here, but what about your men? How much longer will they last as prisoners?”

Everick’s blood ran cold. 

The commander stared at his paling face. “I have a proposal for you. A way for your men to be saved. Even Belland will be spared if you cooperate.”

At the name of his homeland, Everick spoke for the first time, his voice raspy and strained. “What about Belland?”

Rhineton shrugged. “You never know what may happen. As it is now, its people are living in peaceful subjugation under the Emperor. But anything could tip the scales into suffering.” 

Everick growled, “What’s your damn proposal? Fight and die for your empire?”

Rhineton chuckled. “Nothing so simple.” The predator had caught his prey. He smiled. “I’ll make you family. You’ll become my son.”

Everick jumped in shock. 

“Don’t get too excited,” Rhineton scoffed. “I have a daughter. Once you marry her, you’ll become my son-in-law and lead your troops as Captain Tom Everick of the Imperial Military.”

Everick was too dumbfounded to speak.

Overcoming his shock, he stuttered, “What game are you playing?”

The older man chuckled. “I’m giving you a chance to win fame and honor in the Empire. With the backing of Rhineton, your ascent is fathomless. And your men will share in your glory.”

He looked behind him as though he could see Everick’s men sprawled along the prison camp. “No longer will they waste away in hunger and their own filth. You save not only yourself, but them.”

“And what could you possibly gain from my allegiance?” Everick spat.

The commander shook his head at the obvious. “I am not such a fool to ignore talent when it comes into my hands. I have use of you, and I will reward your hard work. It is as simple as that.”

Everick growled, knowing the offer was to become his enemy’s pawn. Rhineton was a man who craved control, and so he would have the man who thwarted him in Belland at all costs. But even at the cost of his own family?

Rhineton gave him one last cold smile before he turned to leave. “I’ll give you some time to think about it, Captain.”

But from the moment he threatened Belland, Everick was already trapped. Rhineton left behind a broken man knowing he had no choice but to join his enemy.

Everick shook off the haunting memory as though it could be plodded into dust under his horse's hooves. He stared ahead, face grim and resolute. Now he and his men rode to the Rhineton estate for his wedding to the daughter of his enemy and once again into the depths of hell. 

------------

    The wedding was only two days away. The final fittings for her wedding attire were done. The Belland soldiers-including her fiancé- were slated to arrive tomorrow for the pretentious banquet to be held in their honor. And the day after would be her wedding.

    If Ami sat still, anxiety would choke her and panic overcome her. But if she busied her hands with something, the time went by smoothly. 

    So today, Ami went to her garden. Ripe tomatoes and squash were begging to be picked. A few stubborn weeds had returned in her absence. One of her favorite flowers, the hardy periwinkle bellona, was in bloom. These pretty flowers had excellent medicinal properties as a sleep aid but were uncommon in her hometown. She remembered her mother planting and cultivating these aromatic flowers. Now a large swath of them grew in her little garden. She liked to flavor her baked goods with them, and drink their dried buds in tea. 

    By the time the sun rose over her, her face was smudged in dirt, her hair a mess, her dress and hands stained. Crouching near the earth, the tall bellona stalks cast their shadows on her face. She had lost track of the time and of her surroundings. 

    Much to her surprise, she heard a rustling not far from her, like footsteps walking towards her. Odd, she thought. No one comes this far behind the manor. She raised her head, expecting her father’s assistant’s scowl and scolding.

    As her head peeked out of the flowers, she met the eyes of the intruder. They both blinked in surprise; one who didn’t expect a face to pop out of the flowers, and Ami who didn’t recognize the man on the other side of the flower bed. 

    Tall, lean, with a face that would have been handsome if it didn't look so gaunt, the man wore a casual military coat that placed him as a low ranked soldier. Dark, wavy hair blew across his black eyes, marking his Belland roots.

    The Belland soldiers are here already? But why is this man wandering around? Before Ami could speak, the man addressed her. 

    “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was low and gentle, with a soft northwestern accent. “I didn’t know anyone was in this garden.” His gaze went from the baskets of picked produce to the garden tools scattered round, finally resting on Ami’s cheek. Belatedly, Ami tried to wipe her face clean and stood to her feet.

    “Is there something I can help you with?” Even though he was a stranger, if he was part of the Belland outfit, he might have lost his way on the expansive property.    

He shook his head. “No, I was just walking in the gardens when I thought I smelled something familiar.”

He touched a bellona flower. “Did you grow these plants?” 

Ami nodded. “I planted them a few years ago.” 

His lips turned upwards. “I’ve never seen the bellona grown in the Empire.” 

That’s right. The bellona flower was native to Belland. If he was a former prisoner of war, he probably hadn’t been home for a year, Ami thought sadly. This might be the closest thing to home he’d seen since the war. 

He looked at her again. “How did you come to learn of it?”

Ami answered slowly. “My mother used to grow it. I think she brought seeds directly from Belland years and years ago.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “I brought some seeds with me when I moved to the manor.” 

 He looked surprised. “Was your mother from Belland?”

She shook her head. “No, but she traveled extensively in her youth. She had a garden with plants from all over.”

He nodded quietly. “She taught you to grow them well.” 

“They’re my favorite flower to grow. The dried leaves make delicious tea.” The two fell into a comfortable silence, both staring at the bellona. 

After a pause, he made to leave, “I’m afraid I’m interrupting your work. I will return to the main manor.”

Ami watched him turn, then called out to him, “Wait a moment.” He looked back at her.

“There’s something I…Please stay there.” With that she dashed to her old tower, assuming nothing had been touched since she left a few weeks ago.

Running into the kitchen, she grabbed something out of a cupboard and made her way back to the soldier.

He gave her a curious look but had stayed as she asked. Ami came to a stop in front of him and presented a small sachet to him.

Confused, he slowly reached for it, “What is…”

“It’s a sachet of dried bellona petals." Her words came out in a rush. "The scent lasts for a long time. I used to make these to put under my pillow for a peaceful rest…” She put the sachet in his hand. “Take it with you. Then you’ll have a piece of Belland with you wherever you go.”

The man’s eyes widened in understanding. He brought the sachet to his face and breathed in. He stayed that way for a moment, eyes closed. 

Ami watched him, imagining he was remembering his home. I did a good thing. Even though he was a stranger she’d probably never come across again, she hoped this small gesture would bring him comfort on the battlefield thousands of miles away from Belland.

Exhaling, he looked down at her. He swallowed and in a quiet, cracked voice said, “Thank you.” Ami smiled in reply. He paused, looking at her, then asked, “What is your name?”

Ami hesitated. They probably wouldn’t have any chance to meet again, but she didn’t want it to somehow get back to her fiancé that she was digging in the garden like a servant. And if her father found out he would be sure to be in a foul mood. 

“…Ami.” 

The man smiled. “Thank you, Ami. I will cherish your gift.” 

She blushed. She didn’t think the sachet was that valuable. His words were too much. 

The man nodded to her again, this time leaving for good. “Goodbye, Ami.” He walked back towards the front of the manor, the bellona sachet secure in his hand.

Amoret watched him disappear from sight. Thank you, Ami. No one had called her that since her mother had passed. It felt strange yet warm.

It wasn’t until much later that she realized she hadn’t asked for his own name.