Wading through a woodland creek, ripples broke. Splashing, they waged war against the currents sweeping beneath them. The cadets felt their legs giving way and their soles slipping from the pebbled bed. As water inundated their feet, overflowing over their boots’ rim, the only matter that they could solve was to keep their ammunition and rifles high in the dry air. Vulnerable in a position that had slowed them to a sluggish pace, they hoped that no ambush awaited them on the other side. Their eyes kept on the path ahead where the murky waters told not of any obstacles. One wrong step and their campaign would have been ended. Yet in the path ahead, there was the risk that they had no control over where a single enemy could ruin their plot. The arched shadows overhead did little to cover their gentle advance as wind sailed through the pillars of a viaduct of old. It had fallen into disrepair and was silent of industrial life. The road above that was a highway across the fields had become unused, with portions collapsed into the soft valley below. At its foot, its base was overgrown with vines, with much eroding away for the black and red bricks had smoothened and its corners had become unsharp. The core withholding the structure wanted to stay its self until the end of time but whether that could ever achieved, no one could survive that long to witness it. It projected the likeness of the spine of a stone titan that had died during the peak of human ingenuity two centuries ago, making for the perfect vantage. Arminius wondered the impossible whether anyone could be spying down upon him from up there. At that moment, it certainly felt that way. Even if he did try to dissipate that feeling with a shake of his head, uncertainties stuck. Following their scout into shallower waters, the squad neared the edge that was elevated and overgrown with reeds. They fought on, with the first two helping each other up. When Julien turned back, he reached down an arm for his comrade to hold onto, who, unbearing the wetness, grabbed onto the earth and his friend and leapt onto the dry land. The three had wanted to wait and set up camp, to warm themselves and to dry their clothes for the night. However, there was still much left to do before the sun could set, and much else to worry. They performed checks to their equipment which hopefully had not dampened and were ready to set off again, advancing into the woods, into the thicker fog.
Though the feeling that they were being stalked could not be shaken off. His every movement, every wrong, and every fight was watched, and Arminius had a constant worry that an ambush was nigh. Tapping Julien’s shoulder, he sped on by and passed over Alexandria, returning himself into the head of the formation. Driving deeper, the forest was lusher, but it also meant that there were more instruments for sounds to be made. Soon, they found themselves unalone, from what their ears deduced, their hearing did not fail them. If it was the enemy, then they were not as discrete as the squad they had encountered before were. Raising their voices, the cadets were almost shouting, and for them, unfortunately, everyone within leagues would have heard their echoes. But knowing Colt, it could have very well been a trap too. Nonetheless, it did not change the squad’s tactics. Quickly taking up positions behind the abundant farm of trees, they scattered themselves and kept their rifles close. Their distance was difficult to judge from the loudness of the lot, and even when Arminius poked his head around the rim of the trunk, nothing could be seen. Even past the bushes and leaves, the branches and litter in the way, there was no one. There was only one thing to do then. Advance. Giving not so much as a signal, he placed one foot around the tree and cautiously moved ahead. His squad followed, separated by dozens of paces but still kept themselves in the sight of their commander. Nearer the culprits of the noise, the squabble and battle of voices worsened. They wondered if their enemies had been cursed out of their minds, but it soon made sense when words which perked their interest sounded much like an argument. The occasional clash of blunt weapons confirmed it. Arminius frowned in confusion, for why they were, crouching as he stayed low. They came about a patch of newer trees and took cover again. Knowing that their enemy could not have been bothered by the attention that they had drawn, Arminius glanced around the trunk. The foe was there, uncaring of their surroundings. One stood, not knowing what to do, as others brawled, their faces covered by clouds of dust. In this exercise, no ample opportunity could have been wasted. Most importantly, his squadmates thought the same. As nods told of their conviction, their fingers laid ready on their triggers. Rolling around their trees, they took aim and fired without hesitation. The hammer struck and the gunpowder ignited. The force punched into their shoulders and they could not help it but allow their rifles to recoil. Though no bullet fired, there was a copious volume of smoke from three soldiers alone. The clouds washed by, cleared by the help of a breeze, and the fight between their enemies ceased in a short while. Arminius’s squad advanced out of the woods and passed the white powdered air. In an opening, they did not find a squad that was any more bothered by their defeat than before when the fires in one’s lungs reignited.
“Great, now ya’ve got us shot in ar’arses ‘cause yer mouth won’t get done yappin’!” Gin yelled on the ground as his saber had become unsheathed, battered by streaks of attack.
“You wanna be section commander, go on right ahead,” Colt stood over the cadet and offered his post in return with an equal heat, “But try lasting ten minutes with that thick skull of yours!”
In a stand off between allies, the comrades could not figure themselves a common ground. As a third cadet in their squad reserved himself, fearing of oppression, he built courage to say something.
Neutral, he could not be any longer, and approached the leader with good in his mind, “Chō, just give it up, calm yourself once we get back—” Placing a hand on his commander’s shoulder, the third tried to water his flames.
“Cerdic, shut the fuck up—” But he had been accidentally doused in petrol, Colt returned with a thousand-league glare.
In the moment when his defense had let up, Gin launched a foot into Colt, kicking him back who stumbled before the rage of the brute. Swinging his sword upward, the tip brought with it a trail of litter and soil. With a whir of strength and surprise, anyone else would have failed to deflect it, but in Colt’s eyes, who recovered with an even greater fury, renewed his blue flames in his veins. His anger welled and was released in an outburst. Sabers clashed, as both cut upward upon their meeting. But with as little as a flick, Gin’s had been deflected and his body had been opened for attack. Without means of defense for his sword was too far and high, he sought to regroup and withdraw himself into a block with his arm as the blade of Colt stormed down. It was like a stampede of hooves bearing down upon him from the pressure of the saber that had not met its mark yet. The wrath of his ancestors who had been summoned delivered a punishment at the will of the gods, a hint of eifer flames sparked. The tip of the sword entered a supersonic state, and the boom, as it broke the barriers of sound, bursted like rapid gunfire. In the moment of fear in Gin, as he watched the saber whipping towards him, he froze before the unstopping attack. Facing fate, his consciousness sharpened for an instance from the sudden rush of adrenaline when there was a blunt crash that halted the drive that could never have been from his sword. His eyes widened, and there above him, a second sword had come to save him, defending and shielding him, as a comrade was supposed to do.
“I didn’t know you were so easily hurt.” Arminius riled his friend.
With both hands on his sword, he knew that he lacked the strength, and that, Colt knew too. Irritated by his uncalled interference, he freed one hand and clenched it into a fist, charging his veins into a swing. Hooked into his comrade’s flank, his knuckles dug beneath Arminius’s ribs and from the unforeseen, foul move, he coughed and fell to his knees, digging his saber into the ground to hold himself upright. Julien flinched, with goosebumps rising around his body in fear. He wanted to run into the fray to help, but Alexandria kept him at bay with a straightly raised arm. Knowing that he could not do much but trouble and hurt himself, Julien could only look on. As the clashing of swords, clamor of rage, arguing between comrades, shouts and yells, all feeding into the ruckus which was made, it had attracted a squad, who for no matter they were enemy or ally, their exercise had been paused. On arrival, they knew not what to say nor how to react, with their friends in the midst of battle, except everyone else there, the squad leader was given pause.
“What the…” Lev raised an eyebrow, joining the spectators and the bystanders on the outskirts of the battleground.
A cadet followed on from behind with a voice monotonal, “My instincts tell me that it was either Gin or Colt who started it.”
Emotionless, he went by without a single feeling of anything. His expression had been set neutral, the same whenever and wherever. The life that once was even slightly appreciative of living had been sucked dry and his eyes had no more of it. They were the colors of a moonstone, fading without sadness nor joy. His hair was parted from the middle, a midnight blue that was a natural shade. It made the boy appear shorter than he already was, not including his reservedness towards all. No aura was emitted from him. He saw no need for anything. Having no desires, no wants, neither was there a spot of ambition. His lone character befitted him, an endless abyss of a soul. That was the deserted life of Arber Konstantin.
From the shadows behind, a giant emerged and uttered, “Both…”
It was the first word heard from him for long, for he who spoke so little. Miklós Dragosavac’s age was no different from the majority of the White Bands, yet stood at an imposing height of over seven standard feet, or more than two and a half paces tall. A monster. A titan. The air around him surpassed every other who dared not to trespass him and none dared to anger. His face had been battered by a solitude life in the mountains and his body was worn like a bear’s. Taller and a hundredfold more menacing than Gin, one could not believe how much more he was to grow. Like a demon who had stolen the body of a child, he had reached the limits of the human physique and it would not be wrong to think what he kept under his skin was an eifer borrowed from hell.
The show came to a standstill. With neither party moving, Gin backed away from the unthinkable wrath and pride of both. Everything he had known about the two. Their capabilities that they thought they knew have been proven wrong. Their aura was unlike that of any cadet. It was seasoned with battle bloodied by victories only. They wore the breaths worth more than a decade of soldiering, compacted into these adolescent boys.
“Haven’t had a good bout in a while.” Colt tried to antagonize his friend.
He twirled his sword to taunt him and he seemed to have calmed. Released of his rage harbored within from an energy store which pumped, his heart beat was stopped when he heard a chuckle from his comrade. Seemingly unhurt, Arminius thrusted his weight on his wooden saber and stood, appearing undamaged by any ailments.
There was not a smile on his face as he looked up, with the tender eyes of a killer, whose tone for violence had become unfamiliarly real. “Sometimes, you do find the oddest excuses for one.” Arminius exposed his rival.
An addiction of war was revealed to all who were there, a truth that Colt was willing to acknowledge. Whose battle was often treated as a dance, it was an enjoyable thing to be had and was never a necessity for Colt. The squads took another step back from the opening into the shelter under the canopy. A duel was soon to occur, without steel blades perhaps, but a duel nonetheless. It was to be fought with old grudges and surreal powers involved and when each was ready to gamble everything for victory, there would be bloodshed. The ends of their policies were clear, the means to perform remained. One fought for the protection of another as his enemy became the assaulter. The winds which fed the forest with new air every second changed its course, afraid of a sphere of contempt forming around the cadets. Birds took off and hares fled, the clouds washed by like the whitewaters of a flat sandy beach. Leaves were plucked from their trees and life began to decay. It was the first of many phenomena, of what little they knew about eifer, witnessed by the cadets.
Sensing trouble, Alexandria called, “Cerdic, was it?”
Once trying to help, Cerdic was unable to do anything then. He gave a nod as an answer, wanting to find any solution that could bring an end to this brawl.
“Come with, let’s fetch the lieutenant.” The girl walked by with haste.
Pulling off her armband, she seemed to know where the lieutenant was. Across the leagues of land; forests from coast to coast; rivers which decided the borders and villages in between, he could have been anywhere. But there was a scent that was strong enough for her to trace. With his trust placed in Alexandria, Cerdic could only follow on in hopes that they reached the lieutenant before disaster and devastation could unfold. As they ran off towards their only means of peace, through the woods, across the treeline, the squads stared on. The rivals dashed at each other and projected their blades. When their wooden swords met in their clash, the battlefield echoed.
71Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxPnj5sxFx3
