To the east, another war still breathed. Several kilometers away from the west battlefield and separated by the Hermann River, two armies held their ground. In the north was Aethel Kingdom’s army, each soldier protected by the head of the red Dragon adorned on their golden armor plates. The same symbol also embellished the flag they raised. It waved against the wind like a dragon trying to soar into the sky and dip into the clouds.

The other side was more or less the same. Golden armor plates also covered their bodies, but none of them wore that crest. It was removed and left vacant, the Dragon was nowhere to be seen. Fewer, but with a determination that could shake the ground, it was the rebel army led by the Third Crown Prince of Aethel Kingdom. They were in a defensive stance as well.

Tension hung in the air. At any moment, one of these two armies could begin stomping the ground. Weapons carried by each individual’s arms were ready to stab and slash whom they considered enemies. But to no one’s expectation, no side made a move yet–or to be exact, they stopped making any move.  

Both sides appeared to be in a stalemate, leaving the field between them empty. Trees and bushes surrounded the area, though they weren’t too dense to hide an army. They kept on their guard, but not a single muscle moved. The sounds that accompanied them were birds chirping and leaves rustling.

It was the condition in the east plain. And without them realizing the passage of time, the sun had dipped over the horizon. Orange hue drowned out other colors, only intensifying with every passing second. 

On the side of the rebel army, a soldier approached the backside of his side. His softer facial structure, alongside that bright yellow bowl cut on top of his head, made him look quite young, and indeed he was. Although he wasn’t in a rush, his stance was commanding. On his left and right, soldiers stood in lines. Everyone looked agitated. Sweat poured down from their temples to their chins, knowing that at any given moment, a simple order to charge would toss them into the border of life and death.

As that young soldier got closer to his destination, he saw a man standing just a few steps away with his back turned towards him. His brown hair was cut short on the sides, only a few centimeters below his ears, but the backside reached his neck. Compared to the other soldiers in his army, including the young soldier, that man wore much more refined armor with broad shoulder plates adding weight to his stature. 

“Commander Eghwin,” the young soldier called. “Our enemies have not yet made a move. How should we proceed?”

The said commander, Eghwin Norton, turned around, moving his sight from the map on the table to his subordinate. His sharp gaze was unavoidable, and alongside the thin, horizontal scar beneath his right eye, he imposed this unyielding tenacity that not everyone had. It was both intimidating and reassuring.

No words were said yet. Eghwin looked up, noticing the sky that was getting dimmer and dimmer. Sooner or later, he had to make a call. It was one of the many duties that a commander like him held. 

“Call it a day. Move the first and second units to the front. For the third and fourth units, they may rest behind the line,” he said, giving orders with no hesitance in his voice. “How are the injured?”

“Our medics are treating them right now.”

“How many?”

“17 people, Sir.”

He glanced at the map behind him before staring back at the young soldier. “Divide your unit into two troops and assign them respectively to the first and second units. After that, return to me.”

“I’m not tired yet, Sir. I can still hold our defenses.”

“Not that, David. I need you to do something later, so I must ask you to return to me.”

“Understood, Sir.”

Without further questioning, David–the yellow-haired soldier–nodded. His voice rang across the army, shouting instructions that Eghwin had passed down to him. Soon enough, the process of repositioning began, units moving according to their newly assigned locations and formations. Each unit’s movement was coordinated and precise. 

As that happened, Eghwin narrowed his eyes, gazing at a distance. Although overshadowed by the looking darkness from above, he saw the enemy’s flag–the one he was meant to protect, but now he stood on the other side.

He still couldn’t believe that. 

He still couldn’t believe that he would be unsheathing his blade towards his own kingdom. 

It felt as if he was grabbing his sword by the blade. The tighter he held onto it, the more blood would spill out from his hand. All he could do now was put his trust in the person he was risking his life for–Aethel Kingdom’s Third Crown Prince. 

Each unit had lit a bonfire, rejecting the cold and accepting warmth. Their enemy did the same thing. It seemed this night would again be filled with silence, which allowed for burnt wood to creak with a quiet scream. 

Eghwin counted every passing second in his head. Soon, it became a minute when his thoughts wandered around. 

You’re also standing there, aren’t you? Seems like we’re destined to fight each other no matter what the circumstances are.

No one heard this whisper he had in his own head, though he had a feeling that far at a distance–also surrounded by the warmth of bonfires–someone answered his thought. 

He then heard an approaching footstep. 

“I apologize for making you wait, Sir.”

As instructed before, David returned to Eghwin’s side. With the lit fire around them, their hair glowed, reflecting the light, with each strand seeming to have a life of its own. 

“Thank you for your service,” Eghwin said. From the table behind him, he took a spherical object and pressed the sole button attached to it. It emitted a soft light which split into three, and once they touched the ground, an equal number of wooden chairs appeared around the table. “Take a seat.”

A Portable Cache Type I–a convenient artifact used to store simple items. Chairs and tables being some of the examples. 

Eghwin sat first, followed by David who took the chair next to him. 

“Now we wait,” the commander said. 

David peeked at the empty chair. “Are we waiting for someone, Sir?”

Eghwin nodded before pointing one finger towards the map–more accurately towards the west from where they were now. His subordinate noticed it immediately.

“We suffered a defeat on our first and second days. But for the days after that, we’ve been in a stalemate with our enemy. Reconsidering what might have happened during this, there’s no better assumption than that something happened on the west battlefield.”

“Could it be that the war on the west battlefield has ended?”

“That’s the most likely scenario,” Eghwin answered while crossing his arms. “Now, with the Hermann River separating both battlefields, I don’t think an army would cross it and come here unscratched.”

Besides its width, the Hermann River was quite deep compared to other rivers. Traversing it wasn’t impossible, but doing it with a large army took twice the effort, doubling the time it wasted. 

“At best, it would be a group of small soldiers. Then again, it’s enough to shift the stalemate that we have right now.”

It sounded reassuring at first, but David immediately caught the underlying message beneath those words.

“But that assumes our army in the west won the fight.”

“That’s correct. If it were our enemy, they would launch a pincer attack from our front and leave. Surviving then becomes more important than winning.”

“And what do you think, Sir?” David asked. “Based on your instinct, who do you think won?”

“Our army, of course.”

Sharp as a knife, not hesitation as he guided his hand to cut the tension in the air. Confidence oozed from the way he said it. And that instinct of his spread like vines.  

“If that’s the case, we don’t have anything to worry about.”

“For now, let’s strategize our next move.”

Quietness once again commanded the air. The flickering torch standing next to them became the sole source of light they had, chasing away the bites of the cold.

It appeared to be serene at first. Death might come at them at any second, though calmness was all they felt. Acceptance it might be, or faith they would survive–even arrogance knowing they could seize the victory if they meant it. It was a bliss they felt with every inhale.

Seconds turned into minutes, ticking away as lives aged. Eghwin and David exchanged ideas on how to conquer their enemy, formulations they hoped their enemies hadn’t anticipated.

“Oh, and here I thought you all were decimated already.”

A sweet, smooth voice broke the silence.

A man with an eyepatch entered the scene.