In the inferno of Haven…246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZZOe4KVZ5E
Heaving, Arminius’s breath was white, his arm wrapped around an archer’s shoulder. Although he was unable to stand upright, he tried not to burden his friend however much it hurt, and sought to haul his own weight even if his foot was numb. He dragged his leg along, limping, as he walked, his sword scraping on the ground as he tried to conserve his energy, staring at the broken road beneath him. His party moved around rubble and craters, bodies and rivers, trudging forward, and although the burn still stung greatly, Arminius forced open his injured eye, unable to bear not seeing the chaos that he had brought upon the city and its innocent folk. The white of his eye was bloodshot, but when he lifted his head, the first thing he saw was the corpse of a boy carried on the back of Arnau, acting as if nothing had happened, however, the lieutenant felt that a part of his comrade’s heart had been cut away.
When they came across a crossroads that connected their route with three other streets, he spotted a giant who stood towering over his comrades, watching over the square with his keen eyes and animalistic sense of smell, and a brute kneeling beside a dying man, consoling him even if it was out of his character until he finally fell asleep to his last rites. When he rose from his knees, he noticed that a band of civilians and soldiers was approaching them, but the rain and mist, smoke and flames made it hard for him to see who it was. Gin held up his hand to shield his eyes from the dust and wind before he was able to make out the few faces further ahead than the rest of the crowd. His face briefly lit up, but when they came closer, his smile closed and his heart fell silent. Gin had not yet seen battle that day, but he grew frustrated as it struck him that while he was retreating, fresh and well-rested, his comrades had been fighting on his behalf. He clenched his fists, ashamed of himself, but before he could speak up, one of them scolded him.
“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.
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 reduced to a rural accent he had not used since training.
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 words came out of his mouth. He knew he was in the wrong and could only turn away annoyedly. Károly set Arminius down on a piece of wall that had been flung paces from where it once stood, and as the lieutenant sat himself on the rubble, he stretched out his only mobile leg, but the pain that travelled through his body had sapped every last drop of strength he had left. There were many like him who gathered at the square, having found a place and time to rest before the inevitable horde would come and ravage their city.
Sensing that evil must have drawn 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.
Arminius leaned forward and grunted, his back littered with bruises and cuts. “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, but he did not appear afraid of him, recognising that he had been handed an opportunity to return the pain the general had caused them.
The lieutenant’s eyes were half shut as the rain and sweat dribbled down his face, nodding, lacking the immediate breath to speak. He rested the tip of his sword on the ground while he slowly recovered, concentrating his effort on healing his internal wounds with his Eifer.
Gazing at the sky, a lancer realised. “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 had halted the hellish artillery, but he became distracted by the disturbance that only he and the giant could hear thus far. “Regardless of what had 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 dampened, and so did the ringing, but in their stead came the sound of the quaking ground.
The survivors turned their eyes to the rear whence they came, but only the foreigners were familiar with its sound. Their suspicions were only confirmed by the sight of a cape of clouds formed behind a wave of troops.
A cluster of Confederates cantered towards them, and the sound of their hooves battering against the pavement sounded like hundreds if not thousands of drums, but the defenders were not broken of spirit. Despite knowing that their walls had fallen and that it would not be long before their city did too, they refused to surrender. Even Haven’s ordinary citizens picked up stones and splinters ready to fight.
The cavalry neared, and Arminius looked around before consulting his sword, whose blade stayed strong despite the beating it had received. “Miklós… get everyone to the pier…” He stood up and limped towards the enemy, letting out a winded shout. “Anyone who can’t run… on me!” His order had always been what his comrades were most afraid of.
“Y-You—” Károly stammered, his expression hopeless, knowing what would 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.
Wounded troops gathered around the lieutenant without a second thought, and even those who were sprightly 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 sighed. “No… I do not…” The lieutenant gave him an 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.
Gin released his collar as he and his comrades stared at him in disbelief, with no words, and even though Arminius surely knew that he and his troops would not survive the charge, he willed it. His friends stumbled back, standing aside for Arminius to pass, but there was one who had already set his eyes on the road to the pier. When the giant looked back, he saw Arminius’s eyes piercing into his soul, causing his body to jolt as he had never been moved by such an immense aura. Understanding what must be done, he took Gin and Károly by their collars and dragged them away to join the exodus running for the water.
Unable to find ground to stand on, the brute kicked and clawed at the air. “Miks, let go! Are ya just gonna leave ‘im be?!” Gin yelled, trying to rip himself away. “He doesn’t stand a chance!”
The archer felt distant, staring at the lieutenant’s back, which grew smaller as he was being dragged away. He had no will to fight. A vision seeped into his mind, overriding his sight, which could not distinguish between reality and a dream, as if an image were being projected onto a screen. The memory was old and unfamiliar and had faces that he was sure he had never seen before, yet he felt as though it had happened.
Unbroken and unmoved by Gin, who was struggling against his grip, Miklós marched on for their safety. “Orders… run…” He reminded him that the general had bestowed upon Arminius his authority and that he was free to act as he wished within the power of his rank.
The survivors hurried to the harbourfront, but many felt ashamed of their withdrawal seeing that their injured comrades had chosen to stand their ground. Some managed to persevere and flee. Others could not and chose that day to be their death. Among those who were instructed to avoid battle if they were uninjured, Arnau also retreated, not questioning his orders despite feeling the same burden in his heart as his comrades. But this was why Arminius trusted him the most.
“Arnau…” The lieutenant called his name, and he halted. “Tell Julien that… once this war is over… I’d like some land to rest in…” He hoped that he would be able to convey his message.
Arnau lowered his gaze as civilians and soldiers dashed ahead of him, but he regretted that he understood what Arminius meant. Looking over his shoulder, he wanted to have just another conversation, even if it would be short. However, Arminius did not return the gesture. The lancer nodded and continued his march, his body, spirit, and soul urging him to stop. Despite his want for everyone to turn around and fight, he knew it was impossible, and before he could grow too attached to his lieutenant, he ran off. Only then did Arminius look back.246Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2sqKNKeNZz
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