damn fine soldier. Likely the finest that Goman had ever met or may ever meet! The likelihood of meeting a Knight was pretty slim these days, at any rate… He’d known Migs since before the Struggle, when things were much simpler, and it had been an exciting evening indeed when he and his other bunk mates pressured Migs into revealing just what kind of bloodling he was. Bets had been placed and Goman had lost – he’d been so certain at the time that he’d be a Beast, not a Noble! Migs sat picking at his food and eating it slowly like he always did, shaded goggles firmly in place to keep the rays of the sun to a minimum. That was the one downside to bloodlings as soldiers: their sensitive eyesight. Fortunately, goggles were cheap and easy to source.


    perfect for sharpening a blade, to hear him tell it. Out of the five of them, he was the only one who had any plumbatae left. The rest of them had launched them at one thing or another (enemy combatants, an animal, a tree, etc.) weeks ago and had since had to go without. Buoh had been consistently the best among them at maintaining his equipment. The darker skinned ningen seemed to understand, long before any of the rest of them, that replenished equipment was going to be difficult to come by, so they had to maintain the ones they had with excessive care. Each of them had managed to keep at least two javelins on hand, none of the explosive ones of course, but Buoh had three plumbatae left to his name! Just as well since he was the best shot out of the five of them. He’d certainly earned his rank of Bombardier many times over.


    before speaking to them on a personal level.


    good friends the animunculi, no different from one another in any way that mattered. One people, one nation, one world. That’s the creed we were all taught… so why’s it feel like such a lie now? If we’re all ‘one people’, then how come we just spent four months fighting and killing our own?”


    not pave the way for a new world.. I heard it all on the vine. They were never serious about independence.”


    for now, Migs,” Lance Bombardier Buoh stated bluntly, looking him in his goggled eyes. “Once it’s all said and done, they won’t be our people anymore. They’ll be their own people. Their own nation. Neighbors. The point,” he turned to look at Goman as he continued speaking, “of all this was to get ourselves some neighbors eventually, who’ll be free to govern themselves as they see fit and we’ll be the same. Prince Bayamon’s right. The world’s too big to be for ‘one people’. It’s got space enough for plenty more.”


    machina, they all knew that the conflict was over. In their haste to retreat from Damocles after the failed coup, none of them had been able to bring much with them. Not supplies, mementos of home, not extra equipment. The march to the Wuldrang mountains had been done to the beat of lectures on taking care of their equipment and making sure not to lose even a piece of it because of how few in number they were. So receiving word that the scouts had not only come back successful in their endeavor but, indeed, abundantly overachieving in their aim, it had been euphoric! Those war machina, once set into place and operated properly, had ended a stalemate lasting months in a matter of hours. They sat now, resting, not far from them, those walking trebuchets. He remembered how he’d directed Buoh where to throw his explosive javelins with his atlatl to maximum effect. He remembered Migs, Geugo, Torbek, and himself all fanning out and storming a rebel encampment below them while Lance Bombadier softened them up from afar. He remembered the pained look on that ningen’s face as he threw his own javelin into his belly and called it back to his hand. The sudden gush of crimson blood as the hole came unplugged.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    defend Damocles – they hadn’t heard so much as a peep from the Second Prince, the self proclaimed Emperor’s, forces. True, Ganymede had wisely chosen to travel as far north as the Purified Ocean, and, true, they had done well to specifically go out of their way to avoid any and all settlements that were anywhere remotely close to a military outpost, fort, or major population center that would draw too much undue attention to their still small forces, but still, nothing? He couldn’t understand why they hadn’t been harried by some sort of scouting force these past few months at the very least. Were he in the good graces of the Second Prince, he would have advised they do so. So what was Knight Gawain waiting for?


    everything – that both Ganymede and Bayamon lacked, Mordred had at his finger tips. By far, his was the greatest advantage out of all three brothers, and yet he seemed to do nothing with it. It was maddening to Gilford! He had no doubt that, at the very least, some of their movements had been spied on by bloodlings and were being reported back. They had to know where they were, at least relatively speaking. If Mordred wanted to he could march on them and there’d be nothing they could do to stop the oncoming end!


    Why had he not done so already? What was the angle? What was the advantage of holding back?


    Advantage


    real


    discipline


    youthat’sYou’re


    AnansiFocus


    traipsingthwack!


    hadpersonally


    Aimi


    duty


    duty