"Magon, help us get this shite off of this kid!" an ex-Eslientium Nigon townwatchman ordered to the injured once-student.
"Fine, fine," Hro sighed, setting down his journal and standing on his good leg and a tree's branch acting as a walking cane.
The two townwatchmen and Hro tried to heave a dead horse off of a small child. They weren't tying to save the child; no, the child was already dead. Her torso and below were crushed by the horse and dried blood and human innards stained her figure. They were just trying to grab all bodies to burn in mass graves. Plus, it's not as if the soldiers would care for another dead body. Yes, so much death and there is no more time to drown in the misery of war anymore.
With elbow grease, Hro and one Nigon were able to lift the horse while another dragged the deformed body out from under. Hro couldn't take it much longer, though, with all the strain on his recently-severed foot. The stub of his right ankle gave in, the once-strong Magon now collapsing onto the stone road.
"Oi!" one townwatchman yelled, "Whot the fuck was that? You wonna join yor spell friends in the ditches?" He kicked Hro on the ground, causing the young man to wince in more pain. "Oi, you listenin', man?"
"Just fuck him," the other townwatchman advised, "We can pick him dead up tomorrow."
"Yeh, thot's a good idea." The two watchmen carried the body to a nearby cart and strolled off to the outskirts of the town where smoke rose into the clouds.
Once they were far out of sight, Hro screamed. "Fucking bastards! I'm not even from Scentral and they still treat me like shit just because I'm Magon?! Fuck you!!" Hro reached for his cane and stepped up onto his feet. "Good enough that they took my foot, but fuck that because they want Magon dead! Fucking bastards..."
"Hey, young man," a lady with grey hair started, "It's best that you don't provoke the dumb sods. They'll execute you for that just for being Magon."
"I'm sorry you had to hear that, ma'am." Hro picked up his heavy eyes to look at said woman, a rather tall and tough-looking lady in her late middle-age years. She had the flat hair of a Northerner, and straight as if from the Southeast, but the face of a Westerner and the body of a Northeastern warrior, despite her older age.
"It's okay, I've heard much worse." She chuckled. "Say, I know a nice healer out of town that can help you with your pain." She smiled warmly and helped the man to steady himself on his awkward cane and good foot.
"That would be wonderful. I know a few others that need a healer, would it be fine if they join?"
"Of course! Although, I have to admit that the kiddo is rather a novice at healing. Still, healing is in her blood... I hope."
"A Westerner? I've been looking for the Westerners' club members from our Academy to help heal, but I can't find them anywhere... it would be nice to have an adept healer around."
"I'm not sure if she really has Western blood in her, but the spirits seem to indicate that it is so."
"Wait... you're a spellweaver? Then you must be... Northeastern?"
"That's right, young man. You're looking at a veteran of the Freir War, one who regrets so much. I never thought war would reach the military county of Eslientia, though. Oh, how mistaken I was."
"Indeed. I thought I would be safe from the Southeast-Scentral skirmishes happening on my country's borders. Only, I find myself in a Scentral-against-Scentral war."
"No different from previous wars. Magon thinking they're superior when they have power, Nigon thinking they're superior when they have power..."
"A wise insight, ma'am. Anyways, should I gather up the injured to follow you to the healer?"
"Yes, you should. Oh, and what is your name, young man?"
"Oohirashima Hro. Named after my grandfather, Joshro Tellsman. I'm half Northern Province and half Dongguo."
"A North-Southeastern man, hm? That's lovely. My name is Aress, ex-slave of Scentral and former Northeast warrior."
"I would say it's an honor, but I'm not sure if it's appropriate..." Hro hung his head.
"Warriors should never be glorified, especially those who worked for Scentral." Aress smiled.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Now, get your friends and meet me at the end of the market district."
"Yes, ma'am, I'll do that now!" Hro picked up his journal and limped off to the perimeter of the ruined Academy walls.
It is fifth day since sudden attack on town. There are still dead bodies on the roads and in the crumbled and flooded houses. Everyone I once knew is injured, missing, or dead. I did my best to protect younger students, but after my foot was cut off and my side pierced by arrow... it just hurt so much. I had not felt that much pain, ever. Even Flamier's burning healing demonstrations weren't as bad as that shit.
In the least I did not see his dead body. Maybe that blue-haired bastard is still alive? He was low in degree, but at least he had some sense. Sure, he did seem a little out of reality, not giving rat's shit about Nigon or Magon but more about giving shit about what makes things better for himself. Still, the guy was not racist like these fucking Nigon soldiers all over here.
Honestly, you would think killing us would be enough, but no. The Aelveil soldiers kidnapped prettiest student girls and left others for peasants. I am only glad that I am a man. Still, us few rest of the students and teachers, I think there is about 12 or 15 of us left or something like that, we were able to keep a few girls safe by giving them some unsuspecting peasant clothes from the dead bodies. We are heading off with Northeast spellweaver named... ah-rest? or ah-res? "Ares" is what I would guess is how you spell it in foreigner alphabet. She is a nice elder lady and surely knows how to knock a few skulls to ground.
I hope we can make it to Flau farm Ares said is north of here. There we will find someone "with potential to be a great healer." I am not sure if I should be worried, but any healer will help now. Judging by how far away Ares said it is and how slow we are going because of injuries, we will reach farm after dusk.
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