Chapter 4

Both sides face each other at opposite sides of the battlefield from yesterday, the stench of smoke and blood still fill the air to some degree. We hear that the officers simply named the battle, Final Eternity. Although I found the name a bit bland, in all truth I believe it didn’t matter. The ceremony was conducted by the meeting of Generals from both sides. When our own General Vaxides read the official Persian letter and inspected the seal for authenticity while the Persian Leader General Izari did the same with the Remanian letter. When both Generals returned the letters and saluted each other we knew the war was now over. The cheers of both armies are much more deafening than the fiercest battle cries or loudest explosion, the Long War was finally over and yet despite my happiness I find my heart beating really fast, my fingertips tingling with adrenaline and my eyesight becoming stronger. It was fear that I felt.

I take a few short breaths and simply focus on watching the Persian Land Ships march away on their gigantic steel limbs. The smoke coming out of their pipes were much more grey than black since most Persian machines were usually powered by burning oil instead of coal. From a distance we see some Persian soldiers from the Land Ship’s deck saluting by placing their blade’s hilts pressed on their hearts. We reply in turn by doing saluting by raising our weapons.

The Land Ships begin to fade from view with only smoke and giant holes in the ground left as proof of their existence. We hear a horn blowing signalling the army to return to Camp Darian, as soon as we reached camp everyone was ordered to pack up and begin marching. Everyone’s mood was so cheery that even we wounded helped in the packing up.

As we helped in disassembling the encampment I begin to think back on the events of the day. The war was over, but judging from the how the demeanour of my fellow soldiers went, it was clear that many felt that this was just a dream. I go back to the strange fear I felt earlier maybe that’s what it was just uncertainty. A lot of us younger Legionnaires entered thinking we would die in battle. I think back to my past and remember the events that brought me here

I was 16 when I graduated from the Legionary Academy in Capua, in a matter of weeks I was already in the Northern Border, driving my sword through the neck of a charging Persian, the very next day I survived my first explosion but I could not say the same for many in my Cohort. That singular moment made me fully realize the situation I was in, and that I had just entered an event that was called the Long War. After time, death started inching closer to me, it didn’t take my brothers but it took many friends, close friends. Riiger, was my closest friend, we had known each other since we were small boys back in Capua. He died after a piece of shrapnel ripped through his neck and a splash of burning oil coated the entire left side of his body. I still keep his blood stained wooden crucifix in my pocket promising to return it back to his family, he requested it seconds before he choked on his blood. I dig in my pocket for the crucifix and pull it out. It still had the dark stains of Riiger’s blood. It was a simple oak cross and didn’t contain any carved icon of Christ on it like the ones in the State Rosaries back home; Perhaps Riiger was an Orthodox.

I was never serious with matters of faith but our Uncle Servo would bring us to the cathedral every Sunday when we were young. He was an Orthodox himself. I only found myself there because I was dragged to it but I believed Varkii and Lurti felt something different in that place at least for a while till Uncle Servo died. Varkii neglected his job at the blacksmith and became enamoured with the concepts of drunkenness while Lurti began ignoring his studies at the Schola Academia and turned to the touch of various women.

Ironically despite my apathy towards religion, I became a prayerful lad during those times, I was only a boy of 11 years old then but I had toil for more coin at the butcher’s shop just pay for Varkii’s drunken revelries and medicine for Lurti’s wounds when getting in fights all over the city. A woman who was under a committed relationship with another man was something he was oddly fond of. Eventually as their foolishness took its toll, the two began to act a bit more civil. Varkii drank less but still got into trouble, Lurti flirted around but got in trouble with fathers now instead of husbands and men he stole women from. Yet I still had to toil harder at the butcher’s shop because of their occasional foolishness. Eventually I could not take any more of it; one day I simply told them that I was entering the Legionary Academy and that I would be leaving. That little decision of mine got them back into their sense; their little baby brother was out to go off into the Long War and will probably bleed to death after losing his torso.

My brothers immediately decided they would be joining also, claiming “responsibilities as the elder siblings” so we headed for the place that every child in Capua knew only by its nickname, Hell Wolve’s Den. I always thought it was a charming title for such a place.

The training we endured was indeed a journey racked with pain and suffering. A day of was started by running through a dense forest in a very short amount of time. Through the ordeal, we would be wearing full armor, from uniform tunic and chain mail shirt to plate armor so heavy it could stop most weapons. After that it was fighting, then formations, command terms, engineering. But through all that were the Lanistaes, screaming orders and mercilessly beating anyone who dared to show any signs of slowing down. Finally at the end of the day everyone had to hit the firing range, all in formation and under the watch of a Lanistae of course.

Every soldier of Remas carries a firearm. Gunners carry Muskets and Bows if the commander demanded it, while Spearmen and Legionnaires carried the Carbine.

It was during our training in the firing range, where Varkii cemented his reputation as a capable marksman. Even a moving target was no match for him.

I had to admit I was a bit jealous of Varkii at that time, back home I was a good shot with a fire arm myself. Uncle Servo would take occasionally take us hunting in the outskirts of Capua. Varkii would always hunt birds with a pistol while Lurti usually hunted small game with a bow.

I preferred to use a musket; I would always go for wild boar. It was common for me to bring home the least amount of game but always the largest. I’d sit for hours just waiting for the right sized boar to take down. Then I’d come home with just one boar but it’d always be really huge then we’d sell some to the butcher then Uncle Servo would cook the rest…

The flooding of memories begins to fill me up with rather strong emotions. Tears had begun to well up in my eyes. But as I try my best to choke them back; some of the tears drop on Riiger’s crucifix and slowly wash away the blood. I guess I’ve always kept blood stains as reminder of Riiger’s death but the sight of his dried blood washing off the crucifix told me that Riiger’s death was over and all that was left for me was to return the crucifix back to his family. I put the crucifix back to my pocket and say a promise to Riiger again in my head, it calms me down a bit as I pack up the rest of my things, wipe off my tears and prepare for the 7 hour march to the nearest city, Iasi.