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 that squadron’s charge, he willed it. His friends stumbled back, standing aside for Arminius to pass by, 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 returning his gaze, sharp, piercing into his soul. Miklós felt his body jolt never having been moved by such immense air but he alone understood what must be done, taking Gin and Károly by their collars and dragging them away to join the exodus who ran for the water.
Unable to find ground to stand, 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!”
Unlike his usual self, the archer felt distant. Károly stared at the lieutenant’s back, spiritlessly, that grew smaller as he was being dragged away. His mind was clearly not present and he had no will to fight on from everything he had seen to have occurred. He did not know why but a vision was gently seeping into his mind, overriding his sight that could not tell whether he was in reality or in a dream, as if an image was being projected onto a screen. The memory was old, unfamiliar, and had faces that he was sure he had never seen before yet he felt as though it had happened long ago.
Unbroken and unmoved by Gin who was struggling against his grip, Miklós kept ahead and 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 harborfront but moved by the sight of their injured comrades staying their ground, many found shame in their withdrawal. Where some managed to persevere and flee, others could not and chose that day to be their death. Among those who were told to forget doing battle if they were uninjured, Arnau made his retreat too, not questioning his lieutenant’s orders even if the burden on his heart was no different than his comrades but that was why Arminius had trusted him the most.
“Arnau…” Arminius 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, having heard and listened to his wish, he also regretted that he understood what he 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 noiselessly and slowly marched on, his body, his spirit, his soul, the trinity that made up the human tugged on his arm, telling him to stop but even if he wanted everyone to turn around and fight, his consciousness knew it was an impossible ask and before he could grow attached to his lieutenant, he was forced to run away and only then did Arminius look back. Seeing that his comrades were gone and safe, he could rest easy knowing that he could fight without a worry. His volunteers gathered beside him, kneeling and standing in two ranks stretched across the width of the street. They loaded their rifles at different rates as those without bore cold steel or whatever weapons they had and aimed them at the cavalry that came from the western gate where the silver curtain of blades and armor rattled, replacing the sound of the bombardment, but it would not shake the Danner from their feet.
Arminius lift himself off his sword and held onto the shoulder of a volunteer soldier, pointing the tip of his blade at the Rus. “Eb weres sdreber…wurisk kamrædne wille leber fer wurisk rænnreng… (Even if we are going to die…our comrades will live for us…)” The lieutenant pledged, wheezing, but with a commanding voice. “Eb weres hœlle faller…wer wille alle tjeher wit jegne… (Even if we are going to hell…let us drag them all with us…)” He placed a curse on himself and his enemies, a bond that not even the heavens could break.
The defenders let out a war cry as they pointed their rifles at the enemy. Bracing, they knew they could only fire once or twice if their hands were quick before they would become overrun, however, as the cavalry approached from the distance, they could not yet tell but the Confederates have already slowed themselves from a canter to a trot. It was already odd that they were not galloping a full speed down a perfectly straight avenue with their eyes on glory however that did not seem to be their aim. The squadron slowed to an eventual walk and it became clear that they did not wish to battle. Confused, the Danner moved their heads away from the stocks of their rifles and lift their finger from their trigger. They could not believe what was unfolding before their eyes and were wondering whether or not they had already perished in battle without yet knowing it was true. The cavalry came to a complete halt and its mounted soldiers reeled on their reins, holding back their war horses tricked into thinking that they would be the first to see action. Despite the previous fact that they had the advantage and that they could have easily crushed the defenders whose numbers were few, standing twenty paces away the Rus have relinquished their want for battle as if they had miraculously agreed to an armistice. As both forces stared at each other with no sense of aggression coming from either front, the lieutenant felt as though their situation was being manipulated by one man, the leader of the Confederate squadron, on his precious, white steed. He came forth and emerged out of the vanguard, his armor cladding his entire body from head to toes, red with a tint of silver but its color did not come from physical blood. It had sensed the violence and bloodshed that had occured that day and shifted its shade accordingly. Dismounting with his glaive on his shoulder, the squadron’s commander took a few paces ahead and stopped before his enemies who were wondering what he had in mind, mesmerized by his profound air.
“Is that you, Regen?” The colonel shouted, summoning one whose name no one had heard of.
Recognizing his voice, the boy in question came out of hiding with his sword lowered and his allies gave way as he limped out of formation, showing himself before the colonel. “Eos…what do you want…?” Arminius responded with little time to spare.
Eos had not noticed it until he neared his enemy and noticed the demeanor of the survivors who have pledged to defend that street to the death. His enemy had sacrificed themselves but they were not yet broken and he knew from experience that out of everyone he had ever fought against, the lieutenant who he called Regen was the only candidate capable of rallying injured, weak, and stubbornly-spirited soldiers. Fortunately, he was there first to stop it before their debacle at the bridge could be repeated.
Setting the shoe of his glaive onto the ground, proud and domineering, the wind seemed to form around the colonel. “You are an honorable man, lieutenant, staying your injured to slow us for the sake of your comrades.” Eos praised not out of good in his heart but pure admiration. “I commend that.”
“Since you’re here…would you mind if we spoke…over a cup of tea…?” Arminius jested, his frame weak and crumbling in comparison to the colonel’s. “I think that’d give them enough time…to evacuate…” He told him without any need to hide behind a wall of lies.
“I heard and I know his deceit know no bounds.” Eos sympathized for he was no stranger to the torment he could bring. “But I am no Aurelius Radilov.” He assured him.
On guard, Arminius glared at the colonel who reached out his hand and ordered his cavalry to withdraw, implying that there were terms that he was ready to grant if the boy could fulfill what he wanted in return.
His hand was clenched into a fist as he lift his glaive off his shoulder and pressed its shaft against his back. “I offer you a duel, Regen.” Eos declared but seeing the defected body of his opponent, he changed his regular rules out of kindness. “Regardless of its outcome, your men will see safety.” Hoping that it was to the satisfaction of the lieutenant, he promised.
Arminius scoffed, sensing that his troops were prepared to give their lives and in case he denied the offer, they began to tense their shoulders and slowly raised their rifles again. Nothing would change their hearts set to abandon everything they had remaining and die fighting on their native soil but that was not what the lieutenant wished for to begin with.
Consulting with his soul, he turned to his sword that reflected a mired image of his face and arrived upon a conclusion to the dismay of many. “Fine…you’ve kept your word before…” Arminius agreed.
Unsurprised that he would agree to his offer so willingly, Eos nodded, and as he had promised, directed his cavalry to filter away under the lead of his lieutenants. With fatigued eyes, Arminius turned to his wounded regiment who did not quite know what they had been negotiating, and only when they had heard it from their comrades who understood what little Zhermannik did their eyes widen, taken aback. The deal was done and they had no say but they were all free to leave. Most were hesitant and it felt wrong that they were forsaking their young lieutenant but some who felt that they must respect the will of the boy who had signed his death warrant for the sake of themselves rose after some consideration. More stood up, slinging their rifles onto their shoulders and turning their backs on him in much guilt. They thanked him in Danner and slowly made for the pier, shuffling along under the guidance of one cavalry detachment. The sound of puddles and soles scraping along the street grew and the bombardment of two fleets fighting afar continue to thunder. The clamor of devastation and evacuation still filled the air as engines rumbled, overflowing its decks with families fighting for a space. The wounded marched towards the gates of life again under the careful watch of their enemy turned temporary protectors but they did so in exchange for the life of another. Arminius knew that he could have done more, saved more, if only he had been more careful, but this outcome was preferable over losing everything. If he could exchange his soul for thousands in return, then it was enough for him. Standing apart, the two lone soldiers waited with patience and in silence as the infantry was still far from arriving and it was not long until the Rus and the Danner had gone, leaving in their stead the voices of rain and ruins.
Cutting the palm of his hand and letting his blood stick to his shaft, Eos was the first to move. “I’m sorry, Regen, I could not have simply freed everyone.” The knight apologized, turning his glaive into an open grip. “I still have my orders as a soldier of the Rus.” Though he wished that he could survive their encounter, it was in his constitution that life must be earned through the sacrifice of another, and he added, hoping that the lieutenant would understand.
“No…don’t be…” Arminius paused him and told him the truth, “I’m tired…that’s all…”
His sword was brought away from the ground and he felt his leg waver but he found his ground to stand ready for his last duel. Widening his posture, he guarded himself, needing to fight to his limit even if there was little chance of him winning. As he remembered his childhood of grief and torture that he once thought he was unable to recall, he placed both his hands on the hilt of his sword and held his blade by his face. Leaning forward, he bent his knee and dug his other foot into the ground, his eye red with blood and his vision impaired but he sensed the tree of death lingering around him that he had not felt since the Blitz but he paid it no mind. Fixed in his stance, there was not a drop in Arminius left that was wanting for battle and in his heart was a desolate place without a slither of hope for himself.114Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ91rwRvQXHa
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