trailed down his face. Taking some papers, he threw
them towards Branwen. “You can help if you like,” he
continued reading as he mentioned, “I’m needed in
Sonnin in the next few days, your mother has ordered
me there for an update.”
Branwen lifted her head. “I could come with you,”
she excitedly suggested.
Harris gave a grumbling laugh. “You made your
feelings abundantly clear,” his tone was clear he was
still hurt by her words, “stay here, Librye and Brenin
will need all the help they can get.”
Branwen looked disappointed, but she enjoyed it,
she was the first woman to reject Harris, his mood
seemed to brighten her, she was not the type to enjoy
people’s misery, but knowing that Harris felt so
strongly seemed to wake something in her, she was
passionate, she did not know it before meeting Harris,
but her mother’s manipulation clearly ran in her.
The room fell to silence as the two worked.
Branwen soon came across a letter which caught her
attention.
“Harris,” she said with a gasp, “Tosta,” she softly
said as she passed the letter to him. “The army are
requesting to return,” she slowly handed the letter to
Harris.
Harris widened his eyes; his smile grew as he read
on. ‘The Atlanti’s numbers have dwindled over-night,
this gave us a chance to take the battle, the Atlanti
surrendered the field, indefinitely.’ Harris shot up, he
frantically searched his desk, looking for a certain
letter. “A blue seal!” he flustered as he searched the
papers, “Branwen, help, a blue seal,” he excitedly said.
Branwen searched the desk, she saw a small letter, a
blue seal on the back forced her to throw herself to
pick it up. Harris snatched the letter from her, he held
his hand up to apologise. “They gave the field, our
army have asked to return,” his smile grew further.
“What did you do?” she softly asked, a shock of
excitement filled her.
“I’m going to make your mother the happiest
woman alive,” smiled Harris. His mouth curled down,
and lips pressed tightly together, his plan had worked.
“Coming from anyone else, I would be happy,
coming from you, Harris Bearwood, I’m not quite
sure how to take that,” she laughed. Harris nodded his
head to the side, agreeing with Branwen. “But how?”
she asked, intrigued.
“I would say it’s my secret, but soon enough, you’ll
know,” his smile of hidden mystery grew, “come on,”
he flung his head to the side for her to follow, “I’m
sure the council would love to hear about this.”
His boots pounded into the council halls;
Councillor Ryan stood back from the table.
“Gentlemen,” greeted Harris as he stepped in,
Brenin sat forward in his throne, he always loved to
see Harris’s displays of grandeur. “May I take the
floor?” he bowed towards Ryan while holding a joyous
smile.
Councillor Ryan held his hand forward. “Please,”
he offered for Harris to step forward. Harris jumped
to the table with one leap. “Tosta and Belgravia are
ours, the battle has ended, the Atlanti has retreated!”
He celebrated as he held his arms out. The council
halls erupted with cheers, standing to applaud, only a
few remained seated, Kailron being one of them.
Brenin stepped down from his throne. “See what
happens, when the eye is turned?” Harris quietly said
as he looked to Brenin. Brenin nodded his head.
“Today, gentlemen!” Harris shouted, “we celebrate!”
Harris and Brenin left the hall with Branwen, the
chambers soon filled with the sound of clanking
glasses as they toasted to Harris’s success. Brenin sat at
his desk, their thoughts were still with Librye.
“It feels odd,” said Harris as he poured another
glass of moonshine for him, “I don’t like how empty it
feels in here without her.”
Brenin grumbled with agreement, his eyes were
heavy with a drunken stupor. “It’s been a strange end
to the turn, let’s hope that Greendia brings us good
fortune,” he toasted, “what are your plans for
Sonnin?”
Branwen remained in the chair, a sweet elderwine
was enough for her, she liked to keep a steady head,
especially with Harris getting blind drunk.
“I’m certainly going to enjoy it now,” Harris
replied with a wide smile, “I made a promise to your
mother,” he walked by Branwen’s chair and towards
the desk, “I promised that she would see the end of
these wars in her lifetime, something I can now see
following through,” he slurred his words.
“And what of Roe?” she asked, “it is yet to see an
end.”
“Always one to bring it down!” laughed Harris,
“two battles aren’t enough for this one,” he looked to
Brenin, “all or nothing,” he huffed. Brenin laughed as
he took another drink. “Roe will end very soon, Roe is
a test for me, you’ll see, eventually.”
“You keep saying that, Harris, what does the
commander have planned?” she asked as she stood,
Brenin had clearly drank too much as he leant back in
his chair, his head dropped back.
Harris walked over to her; she pushed her chest
towards him. “Come on, Branwen, you know me,” he
softly said, “I never reveal it, until the very end.”
Branwen stepped back, she was far too close to
Harris, the guards at the door were still sober, Brenin
was still awake. “I’m sure my mother will be pleased,
when do you leave?”
“I leave in the morning.” He looked towards her,
she seemed unfeeling, it was a sobering image for
Harris. “So, bed for me, the night is drawing close,
and I need to see Librye before I go.” Harris walked
towards the door, he turned to give one final farewell
to Branwen. “I’ll see you when I return, Bran.”
Her lips parted as she looked to him.
“Commander,” she softly said bidding him farewell.
Harris quickly left to Librye’s room; the cold room
sent a shiver through him. “You need a fire in here
Mord,” he shivered as he walked in.
“Librye is fine, she doesn’t feel cold, or warm,”
replied Mord as she sat by Librye’s bed reading. She
looked up from the pages and inspected Harris.
“You’re drunk,” she said with a disapproving tone as
she watched him wobble in the room.
“No such thing with me,” he defended as he came
close to the bed, “how has she been?”
Librye still slept peacefully, her back had not bled
for a while, although she was still in terrible pain.
Mord placed her book on her lap as she looked to
Librye. “No change, what was all the cheering earlier?
I’ve seen no one all day, since I replaced you.”
Harris stepped forward; prid
e seemed to ooze
from every pore of his skin. “Tosta and Belgravia,
they’re requesting extraction from the area, following a
complete victory,” he slurred his speech as he glared
towards Mord, “from this angle, Mord, you look very
fetching,” he commented.
“Don’t!” she warned, “I know you’re pissed,
Harris, I can smell the moonshine from here, well
done on your victory.”
“It isn’t my victory,” he said with a smirk, “it was
the army who did it, I just helped.”
Mord slowly stood, she saw his ego melt into a
humble abyss, he was not willing to take credit for
anything if he was not there. “So, what now,
Commander?”
“Sonnin calls, I leave in the morning, I’ll only be
gone a day or two,” he assured as he looked to Librye,
still fast asleep in her bed, “hopefully, I’ll be back
before she knows I’m gone,” he said with a huff of
laughter.
“She will know, the second you leave the gates,”
said Mord with a raised brow, “have fun, Harris, take
your time, you deserve it,” she said as she sat, “you’ve
worked hard enough to afford yourself some form of
pleasure,” she gave a twisted smile.
Harris softened his eyes, slowly he left the room
and headed towards the stairs to the tower. As he
reached his chambers, he noticed that the fire flowers
surrounding were slowly dimming, as he stepped
inside, they began to light. Someone was there, the fire
flowers could sense it.
He slowly reached the top of the stairs. Branwen
sat at his chair. “It’s a heavy burden to bear,” she softly
said as she looked to Harris at the top of the stairs.
Harris asked with frustration, “Are you going to
stop this?” He slowly walked towards the desk.
“Stop what, Harris?”
Harris gave a heavy sigh. He shook his head. “The
more time we spend alone together, the more at risk
we put ourselves.”
A silence fell on the room as they stared towards
each other, Harris stood at the front of the desk,
Branwen remained seated at the back. The moments
passed, neither seemed to want to talk. Until Harris
broke. He lifted his arm to his forehead.
“This isn’t fair,” he softly said. She crinkled her
brow as she looked to him. “I just want us, I want you,
and having you here, it’s killing me, Bran.” His eyes
investigated hers.
“I just want us to be what we were, but we will
never be us from Marrion, Harris, I value you so
much as a friend, Harris, I can’t be away from you,
I’m drawn to you.” Slowly, she stood, she walked
around the desk, “everything I do, makes me think of
you, everything I say, every move I make, I just think,
of you,” her lips parted as she came closer to him, “I
want us too, Harris, but you were the one who made it
clear, you were the one who broke me first, how does
it feel, Harris?” she narrowed her eyes.
Harris sighed. “You wanted this, I told you it
wouldn’t work, I told you, there was no chance we
could ever be together, Bran, I love you, if that is what
you want to hear, you’ve broken me.” He came close
to her face as he whispered, “you win.”
“It has never been about winning, Harris, I knew
what this was, we had so many chances, you had so
many chances, to leave your life as it was, and have
one with me.” She took his hands, and entwined their
fingers, her eyes softened as she looked to him. “I
understand, Harris, the world was more important to
you.”
Harris lowered his head, ashamed. “If I knew
then, what I know now, Marrion would’ve fallen long
ago, Belgravia and Tosta would still be at war, and I
would gladly stand in a war torn world, with you by my
side, I didn’t make a mistake, I learned a valuable
lesson, and now I have to live with that,” Harris
dropped her hands, “the only good part to come from
this, as painful as it may be, I get to love you from a
distance.” He did not sound convinced, he knew his
jealousy would hit, he knew he could not stand to see
Branwen in the arms of someone else. He had never
felt that about anyone, he had shared so many lovers,
but Branwen was not a lover, she was his love.
He slept that night in an empty bed, his mind was
filled with a victory he felt was not his. He was yet to
see his plan fulfilled; his name was becoming known
throughout the Atlanti camps. Enderton had seen
many Atlanti come and go, it was now a vast network
of Atlanti settlements, spreading along the borders of
Elmoor and Sonnin.
“Sir,” said Claire as she walked into a small room
of the commander’s hut. A large hut on the side of the
settlements where the commanders would commute
during battles. The last commander had been killed,
following the battle of Belgravia; replacing him was
Gaius, a heavy-set man, his face adorned the scars of
hundreds of battles, he had won many.
As leader of the village assaults this was his chance
to make his mark in the Atlanti ranks. Fear guided his
victory now. He lifted his head from his desk.
“I have a letter for you,” she said with a quivering
voice.
Claire stepped towards him, his large hand
reached over the desk and took the letter from her
shaking hand. Gaius sat; his deep brown eyes
examined the letter.
‘My dearest Sam, I do hope you’re keeping well,
this will be the fifth letter I’ve sent you in over a turn. I
hope you are receiving them as I need to warn you of
a deadly force coming your way.’ His lips began to
curl, his eyes narrowed. ‘The Commander, he has
cursed the lands. His hand in Marrion was forced, he
did not wish to leave it, the day he did, it was with a
premonition from the Gods. The Commander, with
the help from the Gods has cursed Marrion, and all
Atlanti fighting blood, those who are cursed are said to
fall to a terrible illness. The Commander has turned to
dark magic, he has swayed the gods in his favour. The
Commander is safe, he is well, he has not fallen to
magic, he has been favoured by the gods. My dear
Sam I do hope you are well, please stay strong, stay
safe, and keep away from the passing Atlanti, the
illness, the curse, it frightens me so, to know it is close
to you. Please write as soon as you can. Your loving
cousin, Cally.’
“What is this?” he asked as he flailed the letter in
the air.
Claire shook as she explained, “It was delivered to
the edge of the village this morning,” her deep tone
spoke of the danger they were in, “Marrion, my lord, it
fell to a mystery illness, shortly after we took it back,
The Commander, he has cursed our lands.”
Gai
us took a moment to think, he heard a whisper,
deep in his mind saying, ‘Fear nothing.’
“Who sent it?” he asked as he stood, he reached
for his red cape. An emblem on the back was the
emblem of the Atlanti, a large golden globe.
Claire thought for a moment. “It was sent from a
tavern, close to the Cronnin city boarders, that’s all I
know, my lord.”
“About your work, woman,” he insisted as he
pushed her out of the way and left.
The rumours were slowly starting to take hold,
The Commander was favoured by the gods, or at least
the Atlanti thought that. The battle of Roe was yet to
be won, with word of The Commander spreading,
Roe would soon be taken back into Cronnin power.
His head was still heavy from the nights drinking,
the path to Sonnin was darkened by the early morning
mist as it rolled through the haunting wood. The thin
cold mist swirled and danced as Svend and Harris
rode through with purpose.
The Harelda road was a long slim road, leading
towards the forest city of Sonnin, each tree home was
visible by a small door and trodden path leading
towards it. The Commander woke the world of the
forest as he thundered by on Svend. The streets were
lit by the light of the misty moon, the fingers of the
wind brushed a haunting hiss through the trees above.
The main road of the Taranis pass was welcomed
by a small wooden house, the only house which stood
in the forest. The ordinary shack was a strange sight in
a place of such mystery and wonder, especially
because the owner was the most powerful man in the
forest, as Grendel stood on his small rotten wooden
porch, he waved to Harris, as he smoked his morning
pipe. His son, Marcus, stood by his side.
Svend slowed as they came towards the palace
gate, the guards at the gate stepped forward.
“You know we have to ask,” sighed one of the
guards. They were different to the guards of Cronnin,
they wore full bodied golden armour, a golden barbute
shaped helmet and gold spear. Harris sighed as he saw
them stood by the gate, he dismounted Svend. “Come
on, Harris,” said the guard, “if we take you to the tree,
we can have a cart brought in, for the weapons,” he
said with a broad smile.
“Very funny,” smirked Harris, “take this,” he
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