The sting of antiseptic rose to et him the mont he pushed the tent flap aside, followed by the heavie scent of erbal infuses simring sowhere in the back.
It was hardly unfamiliar; after every engagent, even though they were victorious, Alpheo made it a point to visit the dical tents, drifting between the rows of wounded and dying , hearing their last words, giving out encouragent and congratulations for their service, promising them they would well taken care of.
All that yada yada.
No one usually bothered asking him why he always went there. They all believed they knew already,still, If soone pressed him, he would say it was duty, an obligation to understand the true cost of his wars, or an attempt to honor the soldiers whose strength bled out in the na of their state. Perhaps both at once, if he needed to sound especially noble.
But they were lies, every one of them.
For all his fondness for the n who fought beneath his banners, for all his insistence that veterans deserved a life of plenty once their years of service had ended, he did not hold the illusion that human life possessed so unassailable worth. If it did, it would not be the cheapest resource on any battlefield.
It was sad , but that was the truth.
"Your Grace," a gravelly voice rasped from the cot ahead, dragging him from his thoughts. "I would kneel or bow, at the very least, but I find myself a touch... indisposed."
Marcus did not lift the blanket to display the injury beneath; he assud, quite reasonably, that Alpheo already knew the extent of it. And the prince did, Aganthios had given him a clinical report, complete with everything he noted should serve his prince.
"I would have preferred to see you under more auspicious circumstances," Marcus continued , his voice striving for levity but cracking under exhaustion. "Still... It’s good to look upon a familiar face. You’re the first in longer than I care to rember. You’ve had shuttled from one mission to another without so much as a chance to breathe.Had I not known any better, I would have said the prince held dislike for little Marcus."
"Apologies for that," Alpheo said as he pulled a chair beside the cot, lowering himself onto it "You’re simply too damn useful."
Marcus huffed sothing resembling a laugh, though it ended in a tight wince. "Never thought praise would be what knocked flat," he muttered. "Hurts worse than the arrow did. Speaking of that, did the Butcher Hand pass judgnt on Mash’s fine attempt at surgery?"
"He did," Alpheo replied, the faintest hint of amusent threading through his voice. "Compared it to his own handiwork before he joined us.If you do not recall he was a butcher"
’’Hard to forget with his nickna’’ Marcus gave a dry chuckle, sinking deeper into the cot as though the effort of laughing tugged painfully along the fresh stitches. "To be fair, we were short on ti and I was even shorter on luck. Mash did what he could, though it burned like a fiend the entire way through. If I’d known I was going to keep breathing after it, I would’ve told them to save the damned arrowhead. Would’ve had it mounted in my quarters.’’
"Would have made a fine topic of conversation," Alpheo murmured.
Marcus clapped his hands together with boyish delight, his grin widening as if glad to find soone as morbidly amused as he was. "Gods, I would’ve loved it," he declared, lifting one hand as though holding an invisible cup. "Oh, that? Nothing much,just a little souvenir so mountain-climbing friends gave ." He twisted his hips on the cot, sticking his rear out with exaggerated pride, despite the wound being nowhere near his backside. "Left a handso mark on my thigh. Want a kiss for luck?"
"Grateful it didn’t hit your head," Alpheo answered dryly. "I would have missed your humor."
"So would I," Marcus sighed in a tone that was almost wistful. "Though I admit I’m wounded you only gave a chuckle. Egil would’ve been howling....They’re going to pay for what they did."
"That was his kind of humor," Alpheo confird, though the na burned in his throat like ash.
Marcus continued without noticing the flicker of guilt that shadowed the prince’s face. "Well, the mad dog got the last laugh, didn’t he? Routed an entire damned army with donkeys and pack horses. I’d drink to him this mont, but the healers banned from alcohol. Once that fucking castle is ash on the ground, though, I’ll drink the best I have in his honor."
Alpheo looked at his hands, steadying his voice before it could betray him. "I am only glad I didn’t have to bury you as well."
"You wouldn’t have needed to," Marcus replied simply. "Either the rocks would’ve crushed to paste, or the dogs would’ve had their feast. There are too many corpses in the earth already, might as well leave so bodies for the birds. They hunger too, and we ought to be kind to the Gods’ creation, don’t we?"
Alpheo found himself studying the man with renewed respect. Marcus had never been grood for command, yet the raw instinct that lived in him had made him indispensable. A fortunate accident of fate had delivered such a mind into his service.
"Speaking of birds," Marcus continued, shifting carefully on the cot. "How is Lucius these days? Last ti I saw the slippery bastard, we were planning and then of course executing an ambush against a lord’s retinue in Ozenia."
"He’s exactly where you left him," Alpheo replied. "Turns out he has a talent for desk work. Paperwork and coordination calm him, apparently. Just as the field demands your particular... talents."
"Bastard gets parchnt while I get arrows," Marcus snorted. "Where’s the justice in that? Did he at least get his retirent?"
Alpheo’s expression tightened, just enough to be noticeable. "Not yet. He seems to have taken a liking to commanding n from safety. His problem was always being too close to danger."
"Couldn’t imagine what that feels like," Marcus muttered with a crooked smile. "So...did I earn my well-deserved rest at least?I do want to beat Lucius in sothing."
"How would you like a castle," Alpheo began, leaning forward as if preparing to open a treaty, "a noble lady for a wife, and a proper title to your na?"
Marcus stared at him for a mont before snorting. "Shit... you truly are desperate for hands."
"I have no shortage of recruits," Alpheo countered, trying to thread warmth and persuasion into the words. "But you are my best agent."
Marcus raised one brow. "Liar Liar pants on fire. I’m sure you’d say the sa if Lucius were sitting in this cot right now."
Alpheo’s jaw tightened just slightly, Marcus had no idea how close he was to the truth. "Perhaps I should keep a board with points," the prince muttered, then changed his posture, the levity draining away as command settled back onto his shoulders. "Do you feel well enough to give a proper report now?"
Marcus straightened, pain flickering through his features yet failing to extinguish the iron in his voice.
"Aye," Marcus began, dragging the word out as though it weighed as much as the blanket covering his legs. "You know we pulled it off... but I’m sure you want the fat juice of it."His voice carried no humor this ti, only the brittle edge of a man recounting sothing he preferred not to have experienced.
"The bastards figured out where we slipped in the first ti. Made damn sure not to repeat their mistake. Every carriage that rolled through the eastern gate was flipped over like they were gutting fish. So the mont they started overturning wagons, our plan for sneaking out inside one died right there in the mud."
He rubbed his face with the back of his hand, expression clouding."They started taking so of the laborers in the night," he said quietly. "Ten n gone every night. No screams, no struggle, no trace. You didn’t need a genius to understand it was only a matter of ti before they grabbed one of us."
He spat on the tent floor, unable to swallow the frustration and fury."But what I didn’t expect was that they’d have the guts to drag away hundreds of the poor sods if it ant they might snag the spies among them."
He dragged a trembling breath between his teeth."Looking back, I should’ve expected that. Should’ve known that masked cunt would butcher half a damn village for a single rumor." His voice cracked, just faintly. "We decided to run when they got Joas. He was the youngest"
The na left Marcus’s mouth like a stone dropping into a dried-up well.Alpheo felt the urge to tell him he’d had no choice, that he’d done what any sensible man would do, but he kept himself still. Marcus already knew; reassurance would only cheapen the confession.
"They’re probably torturing him as we speak," Marcus muttered, the words scraping out of him. "Anyway, he was the first. We agreed the next night had to be our last."
His hands fidgeted against the blanket, mimicking movents from the escape as though his body still rembered every pain.
"We took out a pair of guards, stole their armor, and made for the wall.We faked guards bringing peasants to the chamber.
That’s when the real dying started. The climb was steeper than we thought. Half the handholds were loose rock, the kind of shit that cracks off at the slightest pressure. The grips grew slick with our own blood. When the first man slipped, he scread the whole way down. That’s what alerted them."
He shook his head slowly."They started shooting blindly into the dark. We had no torches, so while the enemy knew not where we were....we did not know where to go. You grabbed a hold and prayed. I was one of the lucky ones, believe it or not."
He tapped the bandages around his thigh."This? That was luck that night."
His voice rattled as he listed the nas."Vosk. Vervi. Luro. Cori. Mostirn. Kristas. Arrows got so of ’em. Others just... fell. Arms gave out. Rocks snapped off. One second they were climbing beside , breath in their lungs, grit in their teeth, next second they were paste."
He swallowed hard. His eyes glead with moisture, but he forced it back, refusing to let the tears fall.
"When the nine of us that were left finally crawled over the top, we didn’t even speak. Just started tending to whoever wasn’t breathing through a hole they weren’t born with. But without proper alchohol, without water, hell, even without ti, so didn’t make it through the descent. Infection took them before the cold or blood would. One just... sat down and didn’t stand again."
Marcus stared directly at Alpheo now, letting the weight of the numbers settle."Sixteen n followed in. Four limped back out. "
He let out a low, hollow exhale."They were among the bravest bastards I’ve ever had at my back. I’m going to miss them.Nurtured them since they were babe you know...I would hope you do not...but I have the feeling you do."
He leaned back, exhausted by the retelling, though his voice held a shard of pride."We succeeded, though.We were hard bastards. Hope that’s enough for the gods to treat them to a drink in whatever cos after."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth, one with no humor at all."So... that retirent we talked about, truly not an option?"
Sha surged through Alpheo, as he slowly shook his head.
He truly couldn’t spare a dagger like him.
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