The final gathering in the camp was a sea of fire. A massive blaze roared at the center, and around it, anyone who could still stand gathered. Some carried food, others wine, the air was thick with the scent of roasted meat and the intoxicating perfume of a victory that had finally become tangible.
"First... Nokio. You did well to come to me with the information. We knew we were facing a retreating, desperate enemy because of your infiltration through their lines," Vanguard said, directing his words toward Nokio.
The soldiers who had remained in the camp looked on, wishing they had joined their comrades in the advance, though some were so broken they couldn't even stand.
"Then, the duo.. Tartar and Casper. You rid us of the nightmare that was Astria's troublesome and complex ability. Had she escaped them, she would have succeeded in picking us off, one by one," Vanguard continued, as everyone checked on one another. Tartar and Casper were tearing into meat, ravenously restoring the energy they had bled out. Wilhelm sat nearby, shrouded in a deep, hollow grief for the partner he had lost.
"And then, our young hero, Rodeln. He took down a Basilisk and saved Questia from a second crushing blow that likely would have ended this war. More than that, this boy survived the 'Morning Star's' fall through sheer wit in his final moments." Rodeln blushed as the praise washed over him.
"My little brother... you did well to survive and fight. I know you sowed chaos among them... and Commander Canaria, for whom the entire night would not suffice for my thanks." Roars of praise and pride erupted among the mercenaries as they hoisted their mugs high. A chaotic, drunken euphoria seized the crowd.
Every time Vandal tried to slip away, he was pulled back by Canaria, who stood at the very heart of the celebration.
"Hilda... we will not forget your intervention, of course." All eyes turned to her with pride and awe. Whistles and applause filled the air, while she flipped her hair with an air of nonchalant pride.
"Everyone! You fought well. We shall not forget our comrades who sacrificed everything for this. So... whoever holds a drink in their hand, finish it! Drink one last toast to our fallen friends!" The drunken roar reached a fever pitch. They had promised themselves they wouldn't let this night pass without a feast. No one would forget the sorrow for those left behind, but they refused to let grief win. Their fallen friends would never have forgiven them if they allowed sadness to overshadow this joy.
Zvyrf lay bound alongside Bismark, whose mouth had also been gagged. The death of the Basilisk was confirmed..a mangled, charred half-corpse torn apart by the destruction of the falling hammer. He lay among a pile of bodies gathered for the pyre. Beside him was the beautiful Astria, her face sallow from the loss of blood. The fire was lit. A massive inferno consumed a hybrid of limbs and entrails; here, there was no man from Okousia or man from Questia. Here, everyone was merely a silent corpse.
Most of the camp eventually succumbed to sleep, save for a few movements here and there. In the late hours of the night, Vanguard and Vandal retreated to their tent. But...
"Why are you outside? Weren't you longing for rest?"
"Hmph... it seems my mind won't show me mercy. I can't stop thinking," Vandal replied, sitting outside. His brother sat beside him to keep him company.
"Besides... I feel like that giant white disc up there is staring at me."
Vandal and Vanguard sat alone around a small fire. The silence was oppressive, but the noise inside Vandal's head would not stop. Vanguard knew this; he knew his brother better than anyone.
"Vandal... we talked about this. Let's keep it a secret for now until we are sure of the truth behind what happened and what is happening to you. Only you, me, Hilda, and Canaria know. We don't want unnecessary chaos before things become clear and we reach the capital, Calipsia, as victors."
"But nothing guarantees Bismark won't leak the word himself. We should have gotten rid of him."
"No, Vandal. We need him to understand what truly occurred. Besides, why are you worried? I personally will work to keep it quiet. We'll think about it later. Everything will be fine. I promise."
Brotherly, reassuring words. Vandal relaxed. There was no use waiting for his thoughts to stop, but after words like those, it was a little easier to surrender to sleep.
_______
The sounds of the city could be heard from the meeting hall in the Royal Palace of Calipsia, the capital near the sea. Silence and bitter defeat choked the hearts of the remaining leaders of an Okousian regime ready to vanish.
One would have to be deaf not to hear the shouting, the resentment, and the anarchy in the streets. A kingdom that had ruled and fought for ages was preparing to enter the history books as a ghost.
Beneath the roar of the streets, a beautiful face looked out from the palace window, the night breeze playing with long stray strands of his hair which was tied at the bottom. It was the Prince of the Kingdom. Around him, his family wailed and wept in a darkened room. Despite the fear and tears of the others, a look of salvation crossed his face,cold and nihilistic.
"My Lord Prince... I will take the family to their rooms," the servant said. The Prince did not answer, so the servant proceeded. He opened the door for other servants to escort each family member to what might be their last night in their own beds.
"What about you, My Lord? Would you like to request something for sleep? A sedative? I can bring you some poppy juice."
The Prince cut him off by raising a hand, then lowering it. He motioned for the servant to stand beside him at the large window.
"Tell me... can you truly sleep in an atmosphere like this?" Prince Theopold was captivated by the stars, the cold air, and the chaos below. His servant looked at him with admiration but was puzzled by the Prince's calm.
"It seems my death has drawn near."
"My Lord! Do you not feel fear?!"
"Fear? Of course, I feel fear. But..." He smiled a smile so cold that it made the air outside shiver. "Destiny descends today into my palace courtyard as a guest. I shall not be resentful of its arrival as long as I know it is inevitable... and just."
He looked at the servant, whose mind struggled with the Prince's words like a riddle.
"Master Zerman... how long has it been since you entered our service?"
"Ha?! A little over forty years, My Lord!"
"And did all your years and all your knowledge avail you in stopping my father the King's illness?"
"No... no, My Lord Prince."
"Then do you feel fear despite the fact that you have nothing left to do?"
"Yes, My Lord Prince."
The Prince turned his face back toward the glowing sky.
"So it is, Master Zerman. Fear is inescapable. But acceptance is what Destiny wants from you. Destiny is coming... it has drawn close to us and blessed our night. Destiny will begin blessing all the nights of the earth..
..All is witnessed. All is seen. "
It seemed Zerman would not understand a word of the Prince's speech even if he spent another forty years by his side.
The Prince wandered through the palace, he went to check on his ailing father, then to the garden, then to the viewpoint on the hill behind the palace.
The palace hill rose high above the capital, Calipsia. He looked down upon it with sorrow, bidding it farewell, waiting for something... until it arrived.
"I would have said you were late, were it not for the fact that you cannot be," the Prince said.
From behind him came a man wearing a long cloak that concealed his entire body, even his head vanished into the darkness of the hood. The man spoke:
"You would say something you know you would say?"
The Prince laughed. "You are right. This conversation has already happened."
"All is witnessed. All is seen."
The man drew a sword from his cloak. He plunged it into the Prince's back.
"And now, you shall say it."
"Thank you, Prince Theobold. You have performed your duty toward Destiny."
The man departed and vanished into the unknown, leaving behind the Prince as he embraced death with total acceptance, his eyes peaceful as their light slowly, steadily faded.
_______
The sun rose over the capital, Lesser Questia, upon a vibrant, beautiful city. Smiles graced every face. The cafes were packed, newspapers were distributed, and the markets were bustling. Everyone was in a good mood, ready for a victory that, until yesterday, had felt nearly impossible.
The Royal Palace was the same. Seven princes stood in a line, waiting for their father, the King. Four males and three females, with grandchildren racing and playing behind them while servants tried to rearrange them into the queue.
Then the King arrived. With total majesty and awe, King Alphonse entered the royal hall with his assistant. The King was an old man but still in good health. He was over seventy years old, fifty of which he had spent on the throne. The crown sat upon his head,though he rarely wore it. His face was slightly sagging, his great age showing clearly. Signs of fatigue and responsibility lined his face, which remained devoid of the joy found in the news. The bags under his eyes were full, his wrinkles many, and his cheeks sagged more with each passing day.
He blessed his children, who lined up to kiss his hand. The children departed after the King played briefly with his grandchildren; that was the only time one could see the old King smile, even if only a little.
Leaders of various ranks and regions then lined up. They kissed the edge of his robe and departed. The King ordered a banquet in preparation for the news of the impending victory. The palace was crowded and jubilant. The fortress around it was busy with cleaning and organizing, pruning trees and decorating every corner,all in preparation for the coming nights of celebration.
________
The remaining army headed toward the capital, Calipsia. Advanced units had been sent to scout for any remnants of the Ocousian army or hidden ambushes. But the road appeared easy. The army moved with strength and confidence. For the first time, Questian forces set foot on the lands of Western Okousia.
The soldiers looked around whenever they passed a village or the outskirts of a town. They passed under the fearful gazes of the people who came out to witness the event. Yes... truly nothing remained but retreating lines in the capital.
The city of Daifko was a large, famous city on the western side of the Horn of Yuria the second city after the capital. The Questian army rested on its outskirts and camped there for the night. They resumed their march toward the capital at dawn. When the outskirts of the capital began to appear through the stretching plains, hearts ignited with excitement.
The two sides met again. For the last time. One of the leaders of Western Ocousia came out and met with Vanguard. He surrendered the city and yielded to prevent the shedding of soldiers' blood and to save effort that was ultimately futile.
The city braced for the entry of the ranks, for destruction and brutality. But Vanguard's men followed his discipline. They touched nothing, they did not boast or scream, they did not terrify anyone or harass anyone. A complete victory on all fronts. Commander Vanguard took over a city that feared him, but he reassured it by walking with respect and humility toward the palace.
The army reached the foot of the hill atop which rose the towering palace,a palace that made the one in Lesser Questia look like a dollhouse. The men's wonder grew the closer they got, until the massive main gates swung open.
The palace stood tall against the pages of history. It had grown pale from the drag of time; even the white details had yellowed, and even the massive iron gates had not been spared by age. But the details and the architecture were captivating, stealing the hearts of all who saw the palace for the first time. Vanguard could hardly believe he was the one standing at the head of this line, could not believe this palace had bowed to him. Stables that seemed endless, a battleground that has a spectator arena and a royal guest platform, a garden the size of a city,an elegant, disciplined labyrinth of art. Perhaps the ancient character and what the palace had endured only added to its beauty. Men were everywhere, exploring. Some swam in the massive fountain, others peered from the palace's giant windows to shout and wave at their friends.
Meanwhile, a quartet had moved past the wonder and gathered in one of the palace corridors.
Vandal sat on the seat of a long window that reached the corridor's ceiling, while Vanguard stood looking through the glass at the midday sun. Hilda simply stood, her hands behind her back, her legs crossed, she looked as though she had made herself entirely at home in this vast hallway. And then there was the blonde whose mission seemed to be nearing its end.
"So... this is the end of the road, Vanguard. Who would have thought that the young man who came to me a year ago to strike a deal would end up a hero in the end?"
"No... I am not a hero. I was surrounded by people who stood with me at the right time, in the right circumstances."
Canaria smiled at Vanguard's noble words.
"The path was laid out for me. I am truly blessed. From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank everyone who had a part in this victory."
"Well said, Mr. Head of the Authority... but... we must now look at what we must look at... isn't that right..?" She looked at Vandal.
"Vandal...?"
Vandal knew the conversation would take this direction. What is inescapable is that something very heavy now fills the air. What is inescapable is the talk of what must be spoken.
No matter how high the smiles rose or how large the joy and the wedding they were in... it seemed Vandal was weighed down at this crossroads.