An hour later…471Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1C16r8CSnV
The flick of a match produced light, then smoke, and an amber hue appeared before the sun as its ember lit a cigarette, which slowly burnt. The lieutenant tossed his matchstick onto the ground, which had been stamped out with his boot, and inhaled a breathful of infused herbs and tobacco, the smoke reducing to ash. All that weighed on his mind was washed away as men around him toiled restlessly at the sudden need to retreat, although it was not his responsibility to supervise them as he stood between two senior officers listening to his side of the story.
The lieutenant tapped his cigarette, and ash crumbled into the wind. “You saved our arses, gen’ral. Truly, thank you.” Awkwardly, Skowroński mentioned again, scratching his sideburns.
Warneńczyk let out a laugh as he stood proudly with his arms crossed. “I have no need for your thanks, but, consider my interest piqued, Skowroński.” Observing the resolution of his troubles, the old general shifted his gaze as he recalled something that sparked his curiosity. “What is a countryman of mine doing in the Commonwealth’s uniform, the uniform of your mentor’s former enemy?” He assumed that the lieutenant shared his heritage based solely on the name.
Caught off guard by his question, Skowroński glanced over and nodded. “I was brought to Alben by my mother, an’ all I’ve ever known was the Commonwealth, but I’ll not excuse my betrayal.” Without any memories of his homeland but a foreign isle he called home, he was reminded by his impulsive decisions of youth. “I’d have remained in Alben if not for—”.
“Whatever it was, it has instilled in you a sense of justice that is enviable, besides the fabled strength you possess.” Warneńczyk stopped him from revealing anything more than he would like to for the sake of his direction of thought. “As such, I had hoped to transfer you into my camp.” He quickly disclosed his intentions, although it was obvious that he had intended to do so since their first meeting.
Skowroński dropped his cigarette, shocked by his sudden break from misfortune. The general’s aide, reading his ledger, whipped his head upward and paused from what he had just heard with an expression that was asking for reason. Concerned that the lieutenant would compromise the general’s army, given he was as much a foreigner as the Bohemer were, the colonel wondered if it was his failure to exceed expectations that drove the general to take on yet another subordinate, but that was far from reality.
The elder noticed his colonel demeanour and returned a brief glance. “I’m sure you and Florian will get along just fine.” Warneńczyk reinforced his decision, patting the shoulder of his colonel. “He’ll have the details of your role in my army.” He gave a reassuring look of confidence when he addressed his aide with what needed to be done.
Letting out a cough, the colonel averted his sight from the lieutenant and watched as the tents and banners of the Bohemer were being torn down. “I believe it is about time we make our final preparations, general. I heard Vasilevsky gave us six hours.” He searched for the lieutenant who had disappeared from his view and found him pacing about, lighting another cigarette.
Sighing, the general waved to send his aides away as he closed his eyes, hoping to forget Nikola’s blunder and Vasilevsky’s mockery of a deal. “That man has always been generous—”
“Grandpa!” A youthful voice suddenly called out for him from the shallows of sergeants’ shouts.
The general’s attention was drawn to the crunching grass beneath an archer who was clumsily avoiding the movement of crates and currents of bodies despite tripping over his own feet. The colonel slammed his thick tome-like ledger shut and snapped his fingers, startling the lieutenant, before gesturing for his attention but Florian only thought it was appropriate to give way for Warneńczyk’s family reunion.
When the boy leapt into the open arms of the general he called his grandfather, great happiness washed over the elderly man’s face where a rare smile surfaced. “Károly, are you well?” Warneńczyk greeted him as if they had only seen each other a few weeks ago, but they had been separated for two years ever since the Third Calamity began.
Károly gave a firm nod, and his steadfast refusal to let go embarrassed his grandfather. Troops began to idle and observe, catching the great general stumped by his soft heart. However, he thought that this did no good for his reputation in the eyes of those who had yet to reunite with their own kin but they were content to see that the man they wished were their commander was able to experience what many would never again.
Warneńczyk patted his grandson’s back and asked, believing that he would shy away from answering him. “I hope you did not go wandering off mid-battle again.” He looked down at Károly as he attempted to read his expression and saw his face change.
As the archer withdrew, he peered up at him, annoyed. “He wouldn’t let me.” Despite his best efforts, Károly’s whining revealed a hint of bitterness, believing his weakness had led to the battle’s loss.
However, the general seemed proud enough of him that he did not seem to mind how these two years had treated Károly as long as he was alive and well, unlike the millions of men since then whose souls have rotted away. “That’s good to hear.” Warneńczyk placed his hand on Károly’s head and assured him. “By the way, did you bring them as I asked?” He was reminded by the thought of his grandson’s safety.
The boy nodded and swivelled around, pointing at the squad being led out of the maze of the encampment by a blonde-haired lancer, and seeing that they had finally caught up with him, Károly waved at them, raising himself on his toes if they could not find him because of his small stature. They wondered what it was that the archer wanted of them, but when they saw who was standing beside him, they understood that it was the elderly general, their saviour, who had summoned them. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, the squad hurried across the square, holding tightly onto the hilt of their swords, their legs having grown sluggish and their faces still muddied and bloodied, desirous of a hot wash and a warm bed, things that they had not felt in years. Approaching the general, they stood to attention and wiped the weariness from their faces before the archer, his eyes gleaming with respect for the squad who did what he could not, but their focus was not placed upon him. Together, the six soldiers and lancers stood to attention, clicking their heels, and saluted the general in synchrony.
The elderly general waved, telling them to stand at ease. “I trust the lot of you are well enough to march after your escapade.” He did not hesitate to reveal to the squad what their next orders were going to be.471Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvG7CI4NcPD
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