From the journals of Marius Viarma
I huddled close to the fire, trying to take the edge off the winter bite. Around me, other recruits milled about with their own attempts to stay warm. Androse spit out a hunk of tabacca next to me- his method for heat.
"Marius, you look cold. Take some." He offered his bacca- which I politely refused. "I wouldn't touch 'at stuff... I don't get paid enough t' cover an addiction."
Androse shrugged and doubled the amount in his own mouth, chewing ferociously. I stamped my feet as the Commander took his spot upon the wooden stage in the training ground. He congratulated us for volunteering; commended us for our bravery; extolled our virtues. I found it all to be very melancholic. Very few here were volunteers. I certainly never enlisted- I was told one day to leave my family. My parents were so proud, even as I kissed them goodbye, and my younger brother beamed so proudly at me. Did they not realize a soldier's life was as good as a death sentence? My mind snapped back as those around me broke into a low roar. All around the assembly ground, flags bearing the emblem of the Emperor arose. Bars of blue and purple abounded, a strange perversion of the familiar Justinian emblem. The entire empire had become a warped vision of Justinian's reign. War will do that, I suppose.
Then, like the angel of death himself rising, the false Justinian mounted the stage. Dressed up in resplendent steel embossed with gold, and enshrined in an imperial purple cloak, he would have looked the part of royalty had it not been for his face. His eyes were sallow and small, and they scanned the crowd with a burning scrutiny. His skin was a livid pallor and his mouth a thin line. His thin black hair was mousy and unkempt, haloing his face limply, and his forehead was bare. His nose protruded, hawk like, as his neck bobbed with every movement. The armor did little to hide his gauntness. He did not speak; even amongst the soldiers, it was well known his voice was shrill and pitchy, more befitting a woman than an emperor. Instead, the commander resumed his soliloquies.
"The High Lord and Mighty Emperor graces you with his presence!" -He paused for a moment to allow for cheering. He got hushed murmurs- "Today we sail West for His glory! Today we march to reclaim what the Divine Spirit has intended for us, and what the impure races have sullied! Our victories will please the Spirit, and He will be with us through every battle! May the forces of the impure ones quake, for on this day we gather..."
He continued on for an hour more like this. I drifted out of the moment, thinking more and more about the upcoming battles preached so endearingly by the commander. As I looked around at the other soldiers, I thought of who would remain after this campaign. After the next? After that? Finally the torrent of words let up. We were ordered into rows and columns, as we were trained, and marched through the city. Citizens crowded the streets, waving the flags. Small children raced alongside us, smiling and cheering. Upon the balcony of the temple, the priest invoked the Spirit to aid us. I looked for my family in the mayhem, but if they were there, they were lost to the sea of ever changing faces. I saw one man spit on the road in front of us- several soldiers broke away to drag him off.
And so we marched- Past the city wall, crowded with nobility looking on the parade. Past the farms, with the farmhands watching suspiciously. Past forest and field, where animals scattered before us and birds screeched above. Androse stepped in line beside me, still gnashing his teeth on tabacca. We spoke in hushed undertones, for fear of attracting the ire of the captains. Our conversations centered solely around where we were at the moment and where we were going-
"-that little town back there was Tallice, I had a girl from there - no - no, it doesn't have the temple of Order, that's Astille, farther East - yes, we're heading South West - since when? Since we started - yeah, I have been paying attention - no, we'll be sailing right to the Elf Lands soon -"
We were suddenly and violently interrupted by a captain's foot striking the back of my head. I stumbled and turned, looking up at the snarling man perched upon a stallion with a similar face. He yelled incoherently and returned to the head of the column. I fell silent and did not speak until that night, when we set up camp. As a new recruit, I was responsible for the majority of tasks. Night fell quick- a harsh cold set in, and I slept chilled to the bone, with the stench of Androse's tabacca around me. At morning's break we were ordered up and marched out again.
By the afternoon of the second day, as the sun reached its zenith, we came to the port from which we would depart. A hushed excitement rippled through the assembled soldiers- whispers and mutters that the officers did little to quell. They shared in the mounting exhilaration. We were jostled onto the ships, setting off soon after the last man boarded. There was an immediacy in the air that was not present for the march to the sea.
Aboard the ship there was little else to do but sleep and get seasick- which many of the men did. I opted for the former and huddled into a bunk. Androse sat nearby, occupying himself with a simple card game. I admittedly lost track of how long we were out to sea- granted, I was asleep for the majority of in. I drifted in and out of consciousness until roused by Androse, who was gathering his packings. I began following suit, as did everyone below deck. We had landed. We had come to the lands of Daen. We disembarked as quickly as we had embarked; the excitement and tension in the air had reached a head.
We marched quickly, the officers now openly jesting with the troops. There was a relaxed atmosphere, even as we set up camp. The ground here was even and flat, the trees providing a comforting canopy. Somehow I fell asleep quicker in this foreign land than I had on the rocky earth of Regalia.
On the morn of our second day in Daen, we were roused not with the usual shouts from the officers, but with a hushed silence, shaken quietly awake by our captains. They had a look of fear in their eyes, and a hurried, panicked motion about them. We accepted orders with an equal hush. The entire camp scurries in a tension that can almost be touched. In a hoarse whisper, the commander orders us into our lines- as if we were going into battle. Androse shifted uncomfortably next to me, but like us all, he nervously obeyed .
We were ordered forward again by the terse voice. Before we had a chance to move, the horses nickered in fear- and the commander bellowed for shields to rise. Mindlessly, as a collective whole, the entire army raised their shields in time to accept the first volley of arrows. As the shields were lowered, a host of elves jumped from the grasses. They had tied leaves and brush to their armor, in order to sneak up on our army. They charged in wild masses, and we, to our credit, met their steel with our own. Ours crashed against theirs, but our will was iron and our resolve strong; we held the ambush. The elves broke; first ran a handful at a time, then a mass stampede to back away. We cut down those who stayed, but did not pursue the others. We remained to lick our wounds.
Traversing the hellish battleground, and carefully avoiding fallen soldiers, I picked through the carnage. Androse had not returned to the camp. Elven and human blood mixed beneath my feet, making the hard ground damp and saturated. My foot greeted the earth with a sickening squelch at regular intervals. Along with the moans of the dying, the air was filled with a sort of grim melody. The sound twisted and turned, from praying to cursing, pleading to anger. More than once I imagined my name being called, as though the angel of death lay among these men, signalling for me to join them. Then I actually heard my name- not a misconstrued imagining, but a real voice calling out -
I was too late for Androse. His lips still curled around my name, his eyes still vainly searching the dimness for me. Searching, but not seeing. I prayed to the Spirit to be kind to him. Surely Androse suffered more than deserved; dying alone, in pain, with no friends or even living companion beside him. As I knelt over his body, my eyes wandered to his chest, where his pouch of tabacca still lay. Without conscious thought, I took the bag and spread the dried leaves on his body- a funeral pyre without the fire. I then hung the pouch around my own neck. I breathed in the dank smell- a smell I once hated with a passion, now I wish it could only be attached to a body.
I returned to a camp silently mourning. The moon watched with little compassion overhead. The sun rose as if nothing happened. The commander ordered us forward as though Androse did not lie in that glaive, dead. We marched beyond the , leaving Androse- and all the others we lost- behind. The men did not have to be scolded by the captains to keep quiet. The captains rode alongside us, heads down. We marched in silence.
I lost track of the days during this time. We could have marched for hours or years. When they told me to move forward I did. When they told me to turn left I did. All the while, Androse's pouch bounced against my chest, sending wafts of tabacca to my nostrils. I would breathe each gust heartily. When we stopped next, I took the pouch out and buried my nose in it, inhaling deeply. I had but a moment with the smell of Androse, for I was ordered right into a task. I was to play lookout for the night; by this time we were deep in enemy territory, and small elven raids were common. And so I mounted a position on a wooded hill, along with my partner for the night.
The night passed uneventfully. The stars kept silent vigil upon us and we kept our vigil on the camp. The serenity was hardly broken, even as the arrow sprouted from my comrade's chest and he gargled going down. I hardly registered it, but my muscles collapsed automatically. As my body fell into fetal position out of instinct, a burning suddenly exploded into my shoulder. I fall to the ground, eyesight suddenly fringed in a halo of black. In the fading twilight, I heard the primal screams of the attacking force.
I huddled close to the fire, trying to take the edge off the winter bite. Around me, other recruits milled about with their own attempts to stay warm. Androse spit out a hunk of tabacca next to me- his method for heat.
"Marius, you look cold. Take some." He offered his bacca- which I politely refused. "I wouldn't touch 'at stuff... I don't get paid enough t' cover an addiction."
Androse shrugged and doubled the amount in his own mouth, chewing ferociously. I stamped my feet as the Commander took his spot upon the wooden stage in the training ground. He congratulated us for volunteering; commended us for our bravery; extolled our virtues. I found it all to be very melancholic. Very few here were volunteers. I certainly never enlisted- I was told one day to leave my family. My parents were so proud, even as I kissed them goodbye, and my younger brother beamed so proudly at me. Did they not realize a soldier's life was as good as a death sentence? My mind snapped back as those around me broke into a low roar. All around the assembly ground, flags bearing the emblem of the Emperor arose. Bars of blue and purple abounded, a strange perversion of the familiar Justinian emblem. The entire empire had become a warped vision of Justinian's reign. War will do that, I suppose.
Then, like the angel of death himself rising, the false Justinian mounted the stage. Dressed up in resplendent steel embossed with gold, and enshrined in an imperial purple cloak, he would have looked the part of royalty had it not been for his face. His eyes were sallow and small, and they scanned the crowd with a burning scrutiny. His skin was a livid pallor and his mouth a thin line. His thin black hair was mousy and unkempt, haloing his face limply, and his forehead was bare. His nose protruded, hawk like, as his neck bobbed with every movement. The armor did little to hide his gauntness. He did not speak; even amongst the soldiers, it was well known his voice was shrill and pitchy, more befitting a woman than an emperor. Instead, the commander resumed his soliloquies.
"The High Lord and Mighty Emperor graces you with his presence!" -He paused for a moment to allow for cheering. He got hushed murmurs- "Today we sail West for His glory! Today we march to reclaim what the Divine Spirit has intended for us, and what the impure races have sullied! Our victories will please the Spirit, and He will be with us through every battle! May the forces of the impure ones quake, for on this day we gather..."
He continued on for an hour more like this. I drifted out of the moment, thinking more and more about the upcoming battles preached so endearingly by the commander. As I looked around at the other soldiers, I thought of who would remain after this campaign. After the next? After that? Finally the torrent of words let up. We were ordered into rows and columns, as we were trained, and marched through the city. Citizens crowded the streets, waving the flags. Small children raced alongside us, smiling and cheering. Upon the balcony of the temple, the priest invoked the Spirit to aid us. I looked for my family in the mayhem, but if they were there, they were lost to the sea of ever changing faces. I saw one man spit on the road in front of us- several soldiers broke away to drag him off.
And so we marched- Past the city wall, crowded with nobility looking on the parade. Past the farms, with the farmhands watching suspiciously. Past forest and field, where animals scattered before us and birds screeched above. Androse stepped in line beside me, still gnashing his teeth on tabacca. We spoke in hushed undertones, for fear of attracting the ire of the captains. Our conversations centered solely around where we were at the moment and where we were going-
"-that little town back there was Tallice, I had a girl from there - no - no, it doesn't have the temple of Order, that's Astille, farther East - yes, we're heading South West - since when? Since we started - yeah, I have been paying attention - no, we'll be sailing right to the Elf Lands soon -"
We were suddenly and violently interrupted by a captain's foot striking the back of my head. I stumbled and turned, looking up at the snarling man perched upon a stallion with a similar face. He yelled incoherently and returned to the head of the column. I fell silent and did not speak until that night, when we set up camp. As a new recruit, I was responsible for the majority of tasks. Night fell quick- a harsh cold set in, and I slept chilled to the bone, with the stench of Androse's tabacca around me. At morning's break we were ordered up and marched out again.
By the afternoon of the second day, as the sun reached its zenith, we came to the port from which we would depart. A hushed excitement rippled through the assembled soldiers- whispers and mutters that the officers did little to quell. They shared in the mounting exhilaration. We were jostled onto the ships, setting off soon after the last man boarded. There was an immediacy in the air that was not present for the march to the sea.
Aboard the ship there was little else to do but sleep and get seasick- which many of the men did. I opted for the former and huddled into a bunk. Androse sat nearby, occupying himself with a simple card game. I admittedly lost track of how long we were out to sea- granted, I was asleep for the majority of in. I drifted in and out of consciousness until roused by Androse, who was gathering his packings. I began following suit, as did everyone below deck. We had landed. We had come to the lands of Daen. We disembarked as quickly as we had embarked; the excitement and tension in the air had reached a head.
We marched quickly, the officers now openly jesting with the troops. There was a relaxed atmosphere, even as we set up camp. The ground here was even and flat, the trees providing a comforting canopy. Somehow I fell asleep quicker in this foreign land than I had on the rocky earth of Regalia.
On the morn of our second day in Daen, we were roused not with the usual shouts from the officers, but with a hushed silence, shaken quietly awake by our captains. They had a look of fear in their eyes, and a hurried, panicked motion about them. We accepted orders with an equal hush. The entire camp scurries in a tension that can almost be touched. In a hoarse whisper, the commander orders us into our lines- as if we were going into battle. Androse shifted uncomfortably next to me, but like us all, he nervously obeyed .
We were ordered forward again by the terse voice. Before we had a chance to move, the horses nickered in fear- and the commander bellowed for shields to rise. Mindlessly, as a collective whole, the entire army raised their shields in time to accept the first volley of arrows. As the shields were lowered, a host of elves jumped from the grasses. They had tied leaves and brush to their armor, in order to sneak up on our army. They charged in wild masses, and we, to our credit, met their steel with our own. Ours crashed against theirs, but our will was iron and our resolve strong; we held the ambush. The elves broke; first ran a handful at a time, then a mass stampede to back away. We cut down those who stayed, but did not pursue the others. We remained to lick our wounds.
Traversing the hellish battleground, and carefully avoiding fallen soldiers, I picked through the carnage. Androse had not returned to the camp. Elven and human blood mixed beneath my feet, making the hard ground damp and saturated. My foot greeted the earth with a sickening squelch at regular intervals. Along with the moans of the dying, the air was filled with a sort of grim melody. The sound twisted and turned, from praying to cursing, pleading to anger. More than once I imagined my name being called, as though the angel of death lay among these men, signalling for me to join them. Then I actually heard my name- not a misconstrued imagining, but a real voice calling out -
"Marius! Marius!"
I was too late for Androse. His lips still curled around my name, his eyes still vainly searching the dimness for me. Searching, but not seeing. I prayed to the Spirit to be kind to him. Surely Androse suffered more than deserved; dying alone, in pain, with no friends or even living companion beside him. As I knelt over his body, my eyes wandered to his chest, where his pouch of tabacca still lay. Without conscious thought, I took the bag and spread the dried leaves on his body- a funeral pyre without the fire. I then hung the pouch around my own neck. I breathed in the dank smell- a smell I once hated with a passion, now I wish it could only be attached to a body.
I returned to a camp silently mourning. The moon watched with little compassion overhead. The sun rose as if nothing happened. The commander ordered us forward as though Androse did not lie in that glaive, dead. We marched beyond the , leaving Androse- and all the others we lost- behind. The men did not have to be scolded by the captains to keep quiet. The captains rode alongside us, heads down. We marched in silence.
I lost track of the days during this time. We could have marched for hours or years. When they told me to move forward I did. When they told me to turn left I did. All the while, Androse's pouch bounced against my chest, sending wafts of tabacca to my nostrils. I would breathe each gust heartily. When we stopped next, I took the pouch out and buried my nose in it, inhaling deeply. I had but a moment with the smell of Androse, for I was ordered right into a task. I was to play lookout for the night; by this time we were deep in enemy territory, and small elven raids were common. And so I mounted a position on a wooded hill, along with my partner for the night.
The night passed uneventfully. The stars kept silent vigil upon us and we kept our vigil on the camp. The serenity was hardly broken, even as the arrow sprouted from my comrade's chest and he gargled going down. I hardly registered it, but my muscles collapsed automatically. As my body fell into fetal position out of instinct, a burning suddenly exploded into my shoulder. I fall to the ground, eyesight suddenly fringed in a halo of black. In the fading twilight, I heard the primal screams of the attacking force.
