Chương 17: The Starboy... And The Weight of His Oath

.. And The Weight of His Oath

"How would we find your people here?" Enel did not answer, nor did he even have one. He stood at the edge of the war camp, staring at all the tents spread across the Northern Whiteplains, or if it was even the Northern Whiteplains. He... had no idea. There were so many tents, to the point that it looked like a city. It seemed even bigger than Widow's Wall. What he was sure of, however, was that there were more people here than in his city.

He was expecting a fortress, garrisons, and men taking care of their gallant horses.

"Maybe... because it is night?" he asked himself. The two of them had left the caravan to find the people of Widow's Wall, but how could they even expect to find them in this sea of tents? They stepped forward, deeper into the camp... and Tiny quickly covered his nose. The smell had reached him fully now. Smoke, mud, horse dung, human dung, sweat... and something else.

"Eughk," Tiny gagged.

"What... what is that smell?" Enel did not cover his nose at first—it just smelled like the butcher's yard. But as they went on deeper, he realized it was completely different. It smelled of rot. The rotting flesh, not of cattle, but of men. His eyebrows lowered and his head slightly tilted to the side, but he still did not cover his nose from the pungent smell. He looked around, then saw a large tent that was different from the others.

"This way," Enel said. Tiny looked at him.

"Do you know where to go, M'lord?"

"No."

"Then why this way?"

"It is the largest tent." Tiny followed his eyes toward the center of the camp, where several larger pavilions stood behind rows of guards, banners, and stacked supply crates. One banner flew higher than the others, though the smoke made its colors difficult to see.

"Lord Commander Duncan will be there," Enel said.

"You can just meet him?"

"I am still a noble, Tiny." Tiny looked at him, then at the camp, then at the guards by the larger tents.

"Right." The path toward the large tent wasn't... quiet. Well, it was. But it was hard to ignore the pained groans of people inside the smaller tents.

"M'lord..." Tiny tapped Enel, then pointed at the cart being pulled on the side, carrying bodies covered in cloth. And it wasn't just one. There were three of them, each fuller than the last. Enel's eyes moved everywhere. A man sat beside a fire, still wearing his helmet, staring into nothing while another soldier tried to make him eat. A horse lay on its side near a broken wagon, breathing shallowly while a stablehand stroked its neck. Tiny stayed close, but was still hesitant to walk beside him.

And soon, they reached the first row of guards near the large tent.

"I am Enel of House Blackwood," Enel said, straightening his back.

"I seek Lord Commander Duncan." The guards looked him over. Their eyes moved to his old armor, the scratched deer with tree-like horns, the mud on his boots, and then to Tiny standing behind him. One of them bowed, but only slightly.

"Lord Commander Duncan is occupied, My Lord."

"I understand," Enel said.

"I will wait." The guard's face tightened.

"That is not what I meant, My Lord."

"I have come for the people of Widow's Wall who were taken for the war. Gregor, the butcher. Ansel, the seamstress' son. And the others. I believe Lord Commander Duncan would know where they are."

"The Lord Commander is occupied, My Lord," the guard repeated.

"Seek the quartermaster. They would know of your person." Enel was quiet for a moment.

"Where is he?" The guard pointed at a nearby tent. And so, the two went... only for the skinny quartermaster to point them toward the western camp. They found the knight in charge of the western camp... asleep. And when they requested to wake him up, they were immediately shooed away and told to check the trenches. The trench master had no idea who the Blackwood men were, but if they were talking about the people who were there two days ago... then they were told to just check the tents.

"M'lord..." Tiny was already exhausted behind Enel.

"I... don't think any of these men know where your people are." Enel's fists curled at those words, causing Tiny to gasp and quickly take a step back. Enel noticed this and immediately calmed his hands.

"I... apologize, Tiny."

"W-what for, M'lord?"

"It... it is nothing. We should check more. We are wasting time."

"M'lord... can you not just use your ears?"

"Hm...?" Enel glanced at Tiny, who was pointing at his own ears. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Back at the inn, you said you... could hear everything?"

"Oh..." Enel blinked.

"I shall try that now, Tiny. Thank you for reminding me." Tiny was about to say something, but Enel closed his eyes. His head slowly tilted to the noise around the camp, his neck tightening. At first, all he could hear was the noise. Tiny slowly leaned closer to him, also tilting his head as if it would help. And then—"Are you the men seeking the Blackwood lot?"

"Gah!" Both of them jumped at the sudden voice. It was a woman carrying a bucket filled with bandages approached them. The water from the bucket sloshed, but what spilled was more red than anything else.

"Yes, My Lady." Enel bowed his head at the woman. The woman stared at the deer on his chest for a moment, then sighed as she pointed toward a certain direction.

"They are situated there, M'lord."

"Oh..." Enel was about to thank the woman, but she started shaking her head.

"I was there last night, M'lord," she said.

"I... am afraid most of your people are dead. I am sorry, M'lord." Tiny looked at Enel when he heard that. Enel's face did not change, but his hand curled once more... but there was no strength in it, only a desperate tremble.

"You have my thanks, M'lady," he whispered.

"I owe you—""None of that, now, M'lord." The woman waved him off.

"You young lads are killing yourselves in this war. What you owe, you and your people have already paid."

"I..." Enel's head lowered.

"Very well. I have wasted enough of your time, My Lady. Please, carry on."

"M'lord." The woman bowed, then left, stepping into the tent next to them. And just for a glance, he and Tiny saw the men inside. One was missing an entire leg, and the other had his guts spewed out from his stomach. Tiny covered his mouth again, and even Enel's breath paused. By the time they found where the Blackwood tent was, the moon had moved high behind the smoke. It was a small row of tents near the western edge of the camp, the banners of his family strewn along with the dirt on the ground. And...

no one was there. Enel stopped before the first tent. The flap had been left open. Inside, a bedroll lay half-folded beside a cracked bowl. There was a strip of faded red cloth tied around one of the poles. Another tent had boots outside it, one standing upright, the other fallen on its side. No people.

"M'lord…" Tiny swallowed. Enel stepped into the tent and crouched beside the cracked bowl. He touched the rim carefully, thinking of who might have been eating there. Tiny stayed outside, glancing from time to time to check what Enel was doing. A man from the next row of tents noticed him and approached while rubbing his eyes. He was older, with a bandage around his head and a blanket around his shoulders.

"You someone's squire? I haven't seen you around here."

"I..." Tiny looked up at the man.

"We... are looking for the men who were here." Enel stepped outside while he asked that, and the old man bowed his head as soon as he saw him.

"Are... they alive?" Enel asked.

"Some, M'lord." Enel let out a breath when he heard that, and even Tiny couldn't help but clasp his chest.

"Where?" Enel asked.

"Scattered, M'lord," the man said.

"No one is really where they're supposed to be here. Even... I've lost my people, M'lord."

"Gregor?" Enel asked.

"Ansel?" The man shook his head.

"Don't know names, M'lord. Sorry."

"No, it..." Enel's eyes lowered.

"Thank you, Good sir." The man nodded and returned to his tent. For a while, Enel said nothing. He only stood in the empty space where the people of Widow's Wall had slept before being scattered across the war. He looked at the fallen banner, picking it up. He tried to clean off the dirt, but the only thing he did was rip it apart. He stared at the torn insignia of his family, then carefully folded the banner to place it on top of the crates. Tiny carefully approached, rubbing his arms.

"We can search again in the morning."

"Yes," Enel entered the tent, but Tiny didn't move from his spot.

"There is room, Tiny." Tiny's eyes moved to the inside of the tent, then to Enel's sword.

"I..." he gulped.

"I'll... just keep watch, M'lord." Enel noticed him looking at the sword, and he slightly moved it away from his gaze. The two remained silent for a while before Tiny bowed his head.

"Sleep well, M'lord."

"May the—" Tiny walked away before Enel could finish his words. He looked at his retreating back for a moment, then quietly stepped inside the tent. He lay inside, though sleep didn't come easily. Tiny sat outside with his back against a post, hugging his knees beneath a blanket he got from one of the tents. The two thought they wouldn't be able to sleep, but... they did. Their morning, however, didn't arrive gently at all—the screaming woke them up. Enel's eyes opened as horns blared across the camp.

Men shouted from every direction, and boots pounded through the mud outside the tent. He covered his ears for a moment, thinking the world around him was erupting again. But when the pounding didn't come, he slowly relaxed. Tiny stumbled through the flap, pale.

"M'lord!" Enel quickly stood up.

"What is happening?"

"I-I think we're under attack! It—" Another horn sounded, closer this time. Then, they heard the roars of men, followed by the clash of metal not so far away. Enel stepped outside, and what welcomed him there was... chaos. The night had already shown him how dreary war could be—but now, he couldn't quite understand what was happening. The soldiers were rushing half-naked from their tents. Some didn't have any weapons and were only holding shields.

And then came a barbarian, riding his horse that was twice as large as anything Enel had seen. The barbarian threw a torch at one of the tents before swiftly disappearing into nowhere.

"M'lord..." Tiny's breathing turned sharp.

"They're inside the camp." Enel's shoulders also moved wildly. Still, he moved in front of Tiny... but that was it. He didn't know what to do next because everything was happening everywhere. A soldier swung at a shadow and struck another man wearing the same colors as him. A barbarian leapt over a wagon with his horse, only to be tackled by an Aldwyn soldier on his way down... both of them skewered by a spike.

"W-what's... what's happening?!" Tiny screamed as he saw death in every direction. Enel had readied himself for what he was about to witness. Tiny did, too. But no one could have truly prepared them for... whatever this was. Enel's breath turned heavier by the second, and all the stories his mother had told him about war surfaced in his mind. Oh, they were nothing like this. Not even close. But stories, of course, were not the only things his mother had taught him.

"M'lord!" Tiny's voice rang in his ears, and Enel saw an Aldwyn soldier swinging his spear toward another Aldwyn soldier through the smoke. And finally, Enel moved, causing a wind to cut past the tents as he caught the spear by its blade.

"Stop," he said.

"He wears your color." The soldier gasped, not knowing what had happened at first. But when he saw the man he was about to attack, he quickly let go of the spear, and a whimper almost escaped his throat.

"W—" The soldier was about to say something, but he saw a shadow fly toward Enel.

"B-behind you!" His warning came too late. The axe had already swept through the air and struck Enel's neck. The soldier didn't have time to wince or scream in shock, however, as the giant axe just bounced from the young noble's skin... not even a strand of his hair was cut.

"Ha?" The barbarian wielding the axe stared, and Enel slowly glanced at him. The barbarian was broad and at least a foot taller than Enel. He had a red bandana wrapped around his forehead, with red paint across his cheek to match it. And while he was staring at his enemy's face, the barbarian was staring at his axe, which now had chips from where it had struck Enel's gold strands of hair. The barbarian stepped back, but couldn't even take a single one before Enel grabbed the axe by its blade.

Enel's hand moved to the hilt of his sword, but Ulf's face suddenly flashed in his mind. The smile on his face as he accepted his death willingly. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighing as his head lowered. The barbarian snarled and tried to pull the axe back while Enel seemed preoccupied, but couldn't budge it at all. Enel opened his eyes and looked at him.

"I... know what must be done," he whispered, his hand moving away from his sword.

"I am Enel of House Blackwood. I have made an oath to protect the people of the Sovereign." The barbarian didn't understand him, of course. But still, he pulled harder—and when he knew he truly couldn't, he reached for the knife at his waist and stabbed straight at Enel's eyes... but the blade shattered on impact.

"You are His people, too," Enel continued as if nothing had happened, his fingers tightening around the axe.

"But right now, you have broken your oath..." And slowly, his back straightened.

"... And I must do what needs to be done."