Heaving, his breath white, his arm was wrapped around the archer’s shoulder, unable to stand himself properly, but he tried not to burden his friend too much, and however hurting it was, he sought to haul his own weight even if his foot was numb that had hardly any sense of strength left. He dragged his leg along, limping, as he walked, his sword scraping on the ground alongside him he tried to conserve his energy, staring at the broken road beneath him. The terrain often changed as his party moved around rubble and craters, bodies and rivers, trudging forward, and although the burn still stung greatly, Arminius tried to force awide his injured eye, unable to bear not seeing the chaos that he had brought upon the city and its innocent folk any longer, knowing that he had to punish himself with the truth. The white of his eye was bloodshot and as he raised his head, first he saw was that he was following the corpse of a boy carried on the back of Arnau who navigated ahead of him. He acted as if nothing had happened and that his day was but another regular scene however the lieutenant felt that a part of his comrade’s heart had been cut away. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that they had accumulated a slight following as well from civilians to soldiers, survivors among their families and squads, their faces as equally distraught as his but they did not know that the boy who was watching over them had a hand to play in this disaster. Arminius returned his sight ahead as they came across a crossroads that connected their route with three other streets and saw two particular figures that he could make out instantly. There was a giant who stood towering over his comrades, watching over the square as their radar with his keen eyes and animalistic sense of smell that searched for the scent of enemy. Another soldier knelt down by a dying man, consoling and praying with him even if it was out of his character until he finally fell asleep to his last rites. When the brutish lancer rose, he spotted a band of survivors approaching them but the rain and mist, smoke and flames made it hard for him to see clearly so he squinted, holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the dust and wind before he was able to make out the first few faces farthest ahead of the crowd. His face briefly brightened out of gladness and relief but when they came closer, his smile withdrew and his heart fell silent in disbelief. Dead, wounded, with injured in tow, even their lieutenant have had his face scarred and his foot shattered. Gin had not yet seen battle that day but he grew frustrated as it struck him that whilst he was retreating, fresh and well-rested, his comrades had been fighting on his behalf. He clenched his fists and turned away, ashamed that he had done nothing to lessen their burden but before he could speak up, another scolded them.
“Gin, Miklós, what’re you doing here?” Arnau stared at them, confused as to why they were waiting in the middle of a square aiding wounded rather than being at their post.
Irritated, Gin glared at him, appalled that he had the gall to say so when he was only there to help. “Wha’? Was I suppos’d t’be sittin’ on my arse waitin’ fer ya to come runnin’ t’us?” Out of shock, his speech was reduced to that of his rural accent he had long not used.
Limping, following in Arnau’s steps, Arminius was brought closer to his comrades by Károly. “What if the enemy had another detachment…?” He spoke with a weak voice having felt as though his lungs had been smashed by his fall. “What if thousands more were unnecessarily killed…because you left your post…?” The lieutenant asked with no care for their feelings even if they were there to aid them after all that had happened.
Gin stammered but no word came out of his mouth. He knew he was in the wrong and could only roll his eyes and throw his hands up annoyedly. Leading his friend to a piece of a wall that was flung dozens of paces away from where it once belonged, Károly set Arminius down and as he sat himself on the rubble, he stretched out his only mobile leg that he looked to have sprained from overuse but the pain traveled through his body, sapping every last drop of strength that he had left. There were many like himself who gathered at the square, having found a place and time to rest themselves before the inevitable Confederate horde would come and ravage their city.
Seeing their injuries and sensing the evil that drew their blood, the giant grew wary of the scent of their attacker who did not seem to appear to have come from their world but the inferno beneath them. “Who…?” Miklós growled.
Despite having caught his breath, Arminius leaned forward and panted, his back littered with bruises and cuts that could not sustain the weight of his own body. “The Rus…Aurelius Radilov…” He could barely get his words out.
“Ain’t dat the bastard who attacked us in Sedin’?” Gin remembered the name without his usual dullness but he did not seem afraid, rather wishing for a rematch and an opportunity to return the favor of turmoil that the general had caused them.
His eyes were half shut as the rain and sweat dribbled down the face of the lieutenant who nodded, lacking the immediate breath to speak. He rested the tip of his sword on the ground that supported him as he slowly recovered, focusing his eifer into repairing his internal wounds that stiffened his movements.
Gazing at the sky, a lancer realized, “But the shelling’s stopped for now.” He heard that the bombardment had ceased and left in its wake were the wails that he had grown accustomed to hearing. “We can assume Julien or Jarlsberg have done their job.”
Arminius peered up, wondering if it was truly their work that halted the hellish artillery, but he became distracted by the slight disturbance that only he and the giant could hear thus far. “Regardless of what happened…we need to get to the pier…” It was not his imagination and he frowned as the noise grew louder. “The city is lost…we must evacuate…” The sensitivity of his ears weakened and so did the ringing but in their stead came the clear sound of the quaking ground.
The band of survivors turned their eyes to the rear whence they came but only the squad of foreigners were familiar with the presence of the encroaching force. Despite being of such youth, when none of the Danner had ever faced the enemy in all their might, they knew what was coming before their suspicions were confirmed by the cape of clouds that had formed behind a wave of troops. Clusters of Confederates cantered towards them and the sound of hooves battering against the pavement sounded like hundreds if not thousands of drums growing louder but the reactions of the Danner were what made their people so formidable. They had no eyes of broken spirits despite knowing that their walls have fallen and that it would not be long before their city would too. Their morale refused to sink as many prepared to stand their ground and seeing that their soldiers were ready to give their lives out of duty and honor, even the people, common citizenry picked up nearby stones and splinters prepared to fight.
The cavalry neared and Arminius looked around, realizing what had to be done before consulting his sword whose blade had stayed strong despite the beating it had received. “Miklós…get everyone to the pier…” He stood himself and limped towards the enemy, letting out a winded shout, “Anyone who can’t run…on me!” His order was what his comrades were most afraid of.
“Y-You—” Károly stammered, his expression was hopeless having seen what had happened and what could happen if the lieutenant decided to fight this battle alone again.
“D’you think you’d stand a chance against the fuckin’ cav?” Gin intervened, grabbing him by his collar. “You’d get run o’er!” The brute hoped to shake some sense into him before it was too late and his method seemed most sensible in that situation.
Wounded troops gathered around the lieutenant without a second thought and even those who were spritely and healthy chose to stand by him, having lost their family, their children, their friends, and their comrades, as only those who had something left to fight for decided that they had to survive.
Directing his volunteers into formation, Arminius exhaled. “No…I do not…” The lieutenant gave him his answer even if he did not wish to hear it. “But don’t worry…I’ll catch up…” He mumbled as the chants of the survivors masked his voice.121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjIkrZaZWSU
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