Chapter Text
Cenn was still afraid.
Dallet had told him there was no need to be nervous. That this squad rarely suffered casualties. They were well known among the enemy Veden forces, and to a man, each one was an expert warrior of incredible strength and skill. They’d be avoided on the battlefield, and when they weren’t, their skill and training would carry them through.
He was still terrified. At their advice, he’d peed, double checked his equipment, taken a few deep breaths. They’d tried to get his mind off it with conversation, then tasks, but still at the back of his mind he was sure he would die.
It bewildered him. The squad he’d been moved to was calm. They could laugh and joke easily before a major battle- a group of scarred men, each one looking like they had been to Damnation and back, but with a light in their eyes that Cenn couldn’t understand. Deserters, criminals, drunks, now grinning and patting each other’s shoulders. Something had changed them.
Someone had changed them.
Well, if he could change all these other men, maybe he could change Cenn too. What kind of man led this squad? Why had he suddenly requested Cenn be moved to his squad? His old squadmates had acted strangely when they heard. Said he'd been moved to the coward's squadron, and it was what he deserved for turning to run in a battle. But now that he was here, he didn't understand. They didn't seem like cowards. What was so special about the man they called Stormblessed?
“Cenn, right?”
Cenn jumped nearly a foot in the air. He hadn’t noticed anyone behind him- not until the man had spoken. He turned, flustered, to find himself face to face with the squadleader.
It had to be him. Cenn had never met Stormblessed, but the man’s charisma immediately drew him in. That warm smile. His clean shaven face, powerful build, crisp uniform. Not fresh or new- it was worn in places, but that somehow made it look more real. It looked... right. It should have been the same color as Cenn’s- a deep forest green, the colors of Highprince Sadeas- but the squadleader’s uniform seemed more vibrant. How could a uniform the same color as everyone else's stand out so much?
He looked less like a man, and more like the idealized image of the perfect squadleader. Strong, kind, protective. He carried a spear and shield, with a knife at his belt, exactly like the other squadleaders, but it fit him. As if this was the person that the uniform had been designed for. Only the shield was unusual- larger than normal, he must have gotten special permission to use it. Squadleaders sometimes got that privilege.
The smile broadened. His voice was deep, comforting, like an older brother here to protect his sibling. “I heard they caught you trying to desert. Ran from your first battle. It’s pretty scary out here, huh?”
Cenn gulped and managed a nod. “Yes, sir.” To his amazement, his voice was firm. He already felt calmer. It was as if the very presence of Stormblessed was comforting.
“Everyone always says not to worry. In my experience, that’s the fastest way to get someone worrying.” The squadleader reached into his pocket, and pulled out something small and wooden. A charm? It was hand carved, shaped like an axehound. The detail was incredible- the ridged carapace plates on the creature were perfectly textured, the teeth and claws perfectly shaped. “It’s okay to worry. But worry knowing that we’ve got each others’ backs.” Stormblessed pressed the small wooden axehound into Cenn’s palm. “Welcome to the pack, Cenn.” Then he patted Cenn on the shoulder and stood, turning to head towards the others and plan the attack.
“T-thank you, Stormblessed sir!” Cenn stuttered out louder than he’d expected, not from fear, but awe. He felt like he’d just met one of the ten Heralds of legend, or the Almighty himself. Strangely, the terror he’d felt earlier was gone. He didn’t know why he felt so confident, but suddenly he was sure that no matter what happened in this battle, he would be okay as long as Stormblessed was with them.
The squadleader turned back, gracing Cenn with another of those soft smiles. There was something in his eyes, though, if only for a moment. A sadness that must have been a trick of the light. It was gone a moment later, as he laughed- a hearty chuckle that seemed to linger, even in the clamor of an army preparing to go to battle.
“Please, I don’t deserve such a dramatic title. Certainly not from my own squad members. As long as you’re in this squad, we call each other by name. Call me Tien.”
Cenn nodded dumbly, as Stormblessed- no, Tien squeezed his shoulder and walked away to talk tactics with Dallet. Behind him, the ranks of spearmen formed up, archers at the sides nocked arrows, and squads made final preparations. Dallet returned, filing in right next to Cenn. That made him feel a little better. But it wasn't until Tien took a position at the front, unhooking his huge shield, that Cenn actually started to feel like everything was going to be okay.
For the first time, he didn't feel like running. It wasn't even that he was sure he wouldn't die- or even that he wasn't afraid of death anymore. All he knew was that he would follow that man into damnation itself, whatever came. It didn't make sense- Cenn had only known him for minutes.
But before he had time to think about feelings, a lighteyed officer passed on horseback. “Be ready to fight! I want their blood, men. Fight and kill!”
Tien noticeably grimaced at that, shaking his head. “Remember. We survive. Don't do anything dumb.”
“Be ready to run,” Dallet added.
“Run? I thought we were supposed to march in formation!”
“We are. But all the soldiers who know how to march in formation get sent to the shattered plains, to avenge the king. The whole group will break and charge within seconds. Just stay with us and run.”
The horn blew. The army moved. Cenn ran.
In seconds, they were ahead of the rest of the ranks, veering sharply right. Then Tien abruptly stopped, in a rocky area, a dip beneath two boulders. The group formed a tight formation, shields locked, waiting. The enemy forces had broken ranks too- and crashed around them like a rock in a stream.
The footing here was unstable- but it barely mattered. Tien’s group stayed low, in the shade behind the rocks, and it was as if the enemy didn't even see them. An occasional spearman charged up to them, sometimes even two or three, but they rarely committed to the charge. Instead they pulled up short of the little wall of shields in the shadows, bristling with spears, and looked for easier prey.
“This... Is this it?” Cenn asked Dallet, confused. For long minutes they stood there, at the ready, but rarely actually engaging an enemy.
Dallet chuckled. “This is it, for the most part. Sometimes we're unlucky, and don't get a good place to set up. Then we do some actual fighting. But Tien doesn't like killing unless we have to.”
“What about... Blood and glory? The thrill of the battle?”
“Would you prefer that?” Dallet seemed serious. Not judging, but actually asking.
Cenn considered for a long moment before answering. “No. I don't think I mind this way.”
Dallet grinned. “That's what I thought. Most of us in this squad? We're here to survive. Make it through our enlistment period, and get back home to our families.”
In the distance, an armored man was swinging a mace from horseback, cleaving through any of Amaram’s forces that had strayed too far from the protection of the main army. A spike of panic went through Cenn. “A shardbearer?”
“No,” Tien answered, surprising Cenn. “Shardbearers won't be at a battle this unimportant. Just a brightlord doing what they do best.” He didn't seem angry, just... Sad. Had Tien lost someone to a brightlord like that?
“Fall back. The lines are solidifying again. Let's get our place in them.” The whole group carefully shifted to a more mobile formation, keeping their shields up but slowly moving back towards Amaram’s lines.
Cenn was surprised again at how smoothly they transitioned from formation to movement. “I always thought squads that avoided fighting would be... Less well trained.”
Tien had gone quiet again, so it was Dallet that answered. “We aren't cowards, son. We just want to stay alive. Training keeps us alive, but so does avoiding pointless skirmishes. We keep our place, we charge into battle. The lighteyes can't be mad at us as long as we're technically doing as commanded. But there's no sense in throwing your safety away chasing after people to kill.”
There seemed to be some sense in that. This squad really was different.
Then Dallet cursed. Off to the left, a massive black horse galloped across the field. Its rider wore shining, beautiful armor. Impossible armor. With an equally impossible sword, ridged like flames and waves frozen into metal. It cleaved through their ranks, and it took Cenn a moment to realize that the beautiful, fantastical warrior was killing their men.
Tien turned away, grimacing again. “Let's pick up the pace and get back into the formation. Further to the right. He's headed for Brightlord Amaram’s section, and I don't want to be anywhere near that battle.”
Cenn was surprised to hear himself ask, “We're not going to help?”
But Tien just chuckled, shaking his head. “Against a shardbearer? No, that's a great way to get the whole squad killed. And I try to avoid picking battles that will get us killed.”
That made sense. After all, the shining figure looked like the Almighty himself, descended to deliver divine judgement. And who would want to fight the Almighty?
Cenn joined ranks in formation with the rest of the squad as they made it to Amaram’s side of the battlefield.
It wasn't until hours after the battle that they got the news. Brightlord Amaram was dead.