Once the camp is established, I make my way through the apothecary tents. Groans of pain echo off the canvas walls as healers move swiftly between cots.
I stop at the first bed, where a young warrior lies with a bandaged chest. His face is pale, but his eyes light up when he sees me.
“Commander,” he croaks out.
I clasp his shoulder gently. “You fought bravely today, Einar. Rest now and regain your strength. We’ll need you for the battles to come.”
Moving on, I approach an older warrior with a bandaged leg. “Halvor, old friend. Still getting into trouble, I see.”
He offers a faint smile. “Can’t let the young ones have all the fun, sir.”
“Save some glory for the rest of us next time,” I say as I squeeze his arm.
At each cot, I pause, offering words of encouragement and gratitude. To some, I promise promotions for their bravery. To others, I share memories of past battles we’ve fought together.
As I move through the tents, I see the toll this rebellion has taken on my men. Bandaged limbs, blood-soaked cloths, and pained expressions surround me. Yet, in each face, I also see determination and loyalty.
Near the back of the tent, I find one of my youngest warriors. His arm is in a sling, and tears streak his dirt-smudged face.
I kneel beside him. “What’s troubling you?”
He looks up, startled. “C-Commander, I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying.”
I shake my head. “There’s no shame in tears. This was your first real battle, wasn’t it?”
He nods, sniffling.
“You’re alive. That means you did well. The first battle is always the hardest. But you’ve proven yourself a true Bloodstone warrior today.” I squeeze the young warrior’s shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Torsten, sir.”
“Well, Torsten, I’ll tell you a secret. I was terrified in my first battle too. But you know what? That fear kept me alive. It made me fight harder, move faster. And lookat you now. You’ve survived your first real test as a warrior. That’s something to be proud of.”
Torsten’s eyes widen. “Truly? You were scared too?”
I nod. “Every warrior feels fear. The brave ones use it to their advantage.”
The tears on Torsten’s face dry up. His chin lifts, a spark of pride igniting in his eyes. “Thank you, Commander. I’ll do better next time.”
“I know you will, Torsten. Now rest and heal.”
I continue through the tent, offering words of comfort and praise to each wounded warrior. Their spirits lift with each interaction, determination replacing the pain in their eyes.
Gabriel appears at my side, his face grim. “Cenric, it’s Liam. He’s been injured badly. He’s asking for you.”
Liam?
My heart clenches. “Take me to him.”
Gabriel leads me to another tent, where Liam lies on a blood-soaked cot. His face is ashen, and a thick bandage wraps around his midsection.
I kneel beside him, clasping his clammy hand. “Liam, you old fool. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”
A weak smile tugs at his lips. “Thought I’d try...catching a sword with my gut. Wouldn’t...recommend it.”
“Always the jester, aren’t you? You’ll be back on your feet in no time, my friend.”
Liam’s grip tightens on my hand. “We both know that’s not true, Cen. But it’s all right. I know...I’m dying.”
