Languished Life

by Patrik Mielonen

  “Sir,” she now looks at the colonel, “we held the fortress by any means necessary until the enemy retreated. I judged the main body of our army had withdrawn far enough and decided to regroup here at Tungon. Approximately eighty knights survived. We first marched to Ghyrm to resupply, but we encountered enemy druids—”

  “Druids!?” The captain is perplexed.

  “Sir,” looking at the captain, Tenil says, “every knight in Ghyrm witnessed it. I am not lying.”

  “How many?” The marshal asks.

  “Sir, we encountered seven. We killed five. After that, we resupplied and marched here. The attack happened approximately ten hours ago.”

  “I see,” the marshal plays with his short beard. He has a short hair, a bed of spiky stubs. He is also slightly wrinkled, sixty years old. “Do you have anything else to report?”

  “Yes, Sir. The commanding officer of Ghyrm wrote this parchment for the colonel,” Tenil says that as she hands over the proposal.

  The colonel takes it, reading it fast. “Why would I promote you to sergeant, Corporal Tenil?” He asks.

  Tenil takes a moment to think. “Because I have proven myself worthy, Sir?”

  The marshal speaks, “If he led the remains of the defenders all the way here, I will promote him myself.”

  “Sir,” the colonel addresses the marshal, “Corporal Tenil is a girl.”

  “Excuse me?” The major who has been silent all the while blurts.

  “Correct. The general of Ivymn brigade allowed it,” the colonel adds.

  “Sir,” Tenil speaks up, “it is true I am girl, and it is true that I led the decimated knights here.”

  “Marvelous,” the marshal says. “I will hereby promote Corporal Tenil to sergeant. Her first unit will constitute of the platoon she has been leading thus far.” The marshal gives Tenil a parchment. “With this, you will be given the appropriate equipment at the armory. Dismissed.”

  ***

  The military accommodation is located underground beneath the citadel. Sergeant Tenil has led the group down there after letting them gear up. They now have the full armor sets again, and Tenil has shoulder plates with two stripes. She also has a dagger now, a military dagger.

  She is no longer part of the Ivymn footmen regiment, but Royal Army, first division, fourth regiment. The Royal Army, led by the marshal himself, is a mishmash of knights from all the brigades of the kingdom. The Royal Army’s base is Tungon citadel, as it’s the only fortress in the whole kingdom that has enough space for a division. Each division in the Royal Army is split into ten regiments.

  Tenil’s oversized platoon of 80 knights is an unusual unit. There are few sergeants who command a unit larger than a regular platoon, and those few have been performing exceptionally, like Tenil.

  Her unit is resting in the accommodation at the moment. It’s dark down there, but that’s exactly what they need. None of the knights of her unit has had good rest in a while. They fall asleep as soon as they lie down on the beds used by thousands over the past weeks.

  Tenil’s dreams make her uneasy, however.

  ***

  A dark chamber, floor made of obscure material, walls distant, Tenil is on her knees, looking down at her hands.

  “What have I done?”

  A voice other than hers answers her question. It’s a voice of power, voice that resonates stronger in the dark. A voice only the evil itself can possess.

  “You have slain a hundred at least. You have become a killer. You have become a monster. You are a sinner, destined to become a Demon.”

  “N-no, I’m not a—!”

  “Do you know why you couldn’t think properly at the gate where you spilled the blood of many?”

  “I was scared...?”

  “Wrong. You saw your comrades die, your enemies die, you saw the weak die. Your mind blocked your reasoning to maintain your sanity. Your goal was to protect the weak, but all you did was killing the weak, farmers of the empire, sons of tailors and fishers. If you’d realized that....”

  “It can’t... be. It can’t be!”

  The locale takes a new shape. Thunderstorm rages, hails of arrows skewer men of the kingdom and the empire alike. A catapult launches a boulder, the rock crushing knights beneath it, red substance spilling. A soldier of the empire brings down his axe at Tenil, her body halved by the strike. She should be dead, yet she can still see, witness her own guts spill out.

  She starts crying, crawling away with lower torso cut off. A trail of black substance follows her. It’s her blood, her demonic blood. She shakes her head in denial, but the color of the liquid is all the same. She is a Demon. She is a Demon. She is a Demon. She is a Demon. She is a Demon.

  “Noooooo!!!!”

  “No!” Tenil sits up, startling the whole platoon in the middle of the night. From her face, anyone can tell she’s seen a nightmare. She is breathing heavily.

  “Sir, what is it?” The huntsman asks.

  “Nothing,” Tenil says. “It’s nothing, Lerrot. Go back to sleep.”

  “Understood.” The huntsman has introduced himself as Lerrot earlier.

  In a moment, the whole platoon is sleeping again, all but Tenil. Her bed is beside the wall of the underground room, oil lamps with dim lights hanging from the ceiling. She is facing her back at the others, hiding her crying face. Her pillow is wet because of the tears.

  Mom, I became a Demon to keep you safe.

  ***

  The following day is a victorious day for the kingdom. The cavalry force at the Plains of Ymingor decimate the empire’s army over there, forcing them to retreat. 1,100 riders of Phyr survive the decisive battle, only 200 of them being Ivymn cavalry. The enemy army at Teckton cannot advance just yet, and hence they remain still, fortifying the ruined fortress and resupplying.

  Marshal Ramiel, the supreme commander, is planning a counterattack, but before that, he is issuing a guerilla attack on a town behind the enemy lines. They can’t send an army to do it, lest the plan will be exposed. A small group of knights will be sent to do it. Over 5,000 knights have been recruited from the reserves over the past few days, ninety percent of them coming from the Eastern province over three hundred miles away.

  Colonel Harrol is tasked with gathering the knights for the guerilla mission. He knows whom he’ll send. He doesn’t like the idea of women in the kingdom’s army, and thus he concludes it’ll be Tenil and the unit led by her. She is now a sergeant. It’s a disgrace. He himself promoted her to corporal only to motivate her to die at the gate, but it didn’t happen.

  As the report comes in regarding the kingdom’s victory at the Plains of Ymingor, the colonel heads to the storage room where Tenil and her platoon has been appointed to for the day. They are ordered to guard the place until the next unit reports for duty. Hundreds of other knights are working in there as well, carrying things around and polishing weapons or doing some other maintenance. Some are writing down records of the supplies and gears.

  Tenil is sitting on top of a crate containing sheaths for the swords. When she spots the colonel, she jumps down, saluting. The knights next to her do the same.

  “At ease, Sergeant Tenil. I have a mission for you.”

  “What is it, Sir?”

  “There is a town behind the enemy lines known as Renyil that needs to be raided. Your unit managed to hold the fortress despite being outnumbered, so infiltrating a town in the middle of a night should be easier than that,” Colonel Harrol hints.

  “Sir, you are no longer my commanding officer. You cannot issue such an order.”

  “Of course, but if we consult the marshal together—”

  “Sir, why would I? Me and my platoon have not been trained for guerilla warfare. It would be a suicide.”

  The colonel has a mischievous smile. “I don’t think so. I did not promote you to a corporal for no reason. Also, if you accomplish this mission, the marshal may promote you even further. I would propose it if he did not. What say you?”

 
“Sir, I did not choose to stay because I wanted to climb the ranks.”

  “Did you know that we are losing the war?” Harrol reminds. “If the enemy town is infiltrated, the kingdom will have a chance to recover and take back Teckton. That way, whatever it is you protect will be saved from the coming tide, Sergeant Tenil.”

  She doesn’t reply. His reasoning is good, but she doesn’t believe she is up to the task. Lerrot, the huntsman, might be an ideal guerilla knight for the mission, but the rest? She can’t make any promises. She has about 20 archers and 60 footmen under her command. Will that be enough, or too much?

  “Sir, the risk is too high.”

  “Sergeant Tenil, I am a colonel. I know what I’m doing. And even if you fail, your family will be compensated, should you be marked KIA, or even MIA.”

  Tenil thinks for a while, looking at the others around her. They all nod approvingly as if they were ready to die for her. They saw her fight. She is a knight of the best caliber. “Understood. Should I come with you, sir?”

  “Yes. Let us consult the marshal.”

  The colonel starts walking away, Tenil following right behind. With the corner of her eye, she happens to notice Oreon and Rikyl moving heavy crates around. They see her just as well, irritated. The two stripes on her shoulders are pissing them off. Tenil knows that and sticks out her tongue at them.

  ***

  They knock the door of the marshal’s office on the third floor. The strategy room is next to it. Other than those two rooms, there is nothing else up there.

  Once they hear the marshal’s word, the colonel enters the room, Tenil behind him. “Sir, I have a suitable unit for the mission,” Harrol speaks.

  Marshal Ramiel eyes Tenil intently. “Sergeant Tenil’s unit, I presume. On what basis would you send her?”

  “Sir, she and her platoon managed to hold Teckton despite being greatly outnumbered. They are resourceful, and that is what we need.”

  “Sir,” Tenil speaks up, “I agree with the colonel.”

  The marshal sits behind his desk, holding his chin while illuminated by candles and the faint sunlight. The window is on the shadowed side of the tower, hence the lack of light despite the hour.

  A red carpet and shelves beside the walls don’t match the image Tenil has of a marshal’s office, and the sight of Ramiel thinking so deeply makes her wonder if he is a scholar and not a supreme commander.

  “Fine. Sergeant Tenil was under your command for longer than she has been under mine. I presume you know she is up to the task. Just remember, the fate of the kingdom may depend on the mission. Do not fail me, the both of you.”

  “Yes Sir!” Tenil states confidently.

  “She will not fail,” the colonel states with a precarious plan in mind.

  “Good. Dismissed.”

  ***

  “Second platoon, attention!” Tenil has returned to the storage area. She gathers her subordinates to brief them. “We are to execute a hit-and-run operation to an enemy town behind their lines. The mission will require stealth and speed. If any of you doubts your own capability, consult me once I am done with briefing. We will begin after nightfall, and we will not be able to rest at any point for longer than a couple of hours. Our equipment will be light. The duration of the mission will be at least two days. Our target is the enemy supply unit. If we take it out, the empire will be crippled, and we can retake the lost land. Now, raise your hand if you think you are not up to the task.”

  No one does.

  “Good! As soon as our duty as guards is over, nourish yourselves and head to the armory. I will provide the necessary equipment. After that, rest for the few hours we are given.”

  “““Yes Sir!”””

  Tenil is acting strong, but inside, the nightmare from last night is still haunting her mind. Her heart has been throbbing painfully ever since the morning. Maybe she should see her father, Tenil reasons. Ever since their arrival, she hasn’t seen her father. He is somewhere in Tungon, he has to be. Tenil stands guard with her unit while thinking of her father.

  “Sir, you look troubled at times,” points out the archer who proposed the idea of burning down Teckton during the desperate battle. He introduced himself as Eloy. His age is twenty-five.

  “I’m too young to be here,” is what Tenil would like to say, but now that she is a superior, she replies, “Try to imagine yourself in my place.”

  For a moment, Eloy tries to imagine himself as Tenil. “Sir, could it be you doubt your ability?”

  “Yeah, and I’m also scared,” she wants to say, but ends up answering differently. “I am not allowed to doubt myself.”

  “Oh. But I wouldn’t worry about your capability. The way you fight, it’s as if you were blocking out all the emotions. And when you make a decision, you think twice before acting.”

  “Aye,” Lerrot the huntsman joins the conversation. “You have the ability to enter a battle trance like the berserkers of East. You don’t blink, you don’t smile nor grimace, you just spill the blood. Let me ask you, Sir, does everything look gray when you fight?”

  Tenil nods.

  “That’s exactly what the rumors say about the warriors of Bladania. Does your mind go blank as well? As if you couldn’t think about useless things at all.”

  Tenil nods again.

  “Then Bladanian blood flows in your veins,” Lerrot says.

  “I didn’t know. I thought it was weird, but now it all makes sense. So I had a warrior’s heart ever since my birth, huh.”

  Bladanians aren’t superhumans or anything like that. The only difference is that they have a chemical trait that allows them to enter a trance, negating all emotions. In fact, Bladania is the country Phyr has been at war with the most over the past millennium. One can only wonder how Tenil’s bloodline came to be. She’ll ask about it from her father later.

  ***

  After the dinner once their duty as guards is over, the second platoon of the company is gathering in the armory that’s part of the storage space inside the citadel. They are changing their equipment for the mission. Leather armors instead of plate and longswords instead of shortswords and shields. Archers keep their bows, and the footmen carry additional quivers with them. That way, the archers won’t have to worry too much about saving arrows.

  Once everyone’s geared up, the platoon is dismissed until nightfall. Tenil chooses to spend her time on seeing her father. She asks the officers of Ivymn regiment regarding his whereabouts. According to a lieutenant, her father is stationed in the Eastern sector of the city. It’d take an hour to find him. It’s regrettable, but she’ll have to forget about her father until she returns. She can’t afford getting late because of that.

  As she returns to the accommodation where her platoon is resting for the little while they’re given, Tenil happens to walk into the members of her former unit. Oreon, Rikyl, Yuth, and many others are standing in the hallway, apparently waiting for a superior or something.

  Tenil doesn’t have her sergeant’s marks at the moment, hence only a few of them know she has been promoted. Corporals aren’t treated well by mere knights, but sergeants are.

  “Tch, she must’ve deserted before the battle. There is no way she or the others could’ve survived by defending the fortress,” Rikyl blurts.

  “Uh-huh. She should’ve died.”

  Tenil’s brow twitches, irritated.

  “I bet she begged for a guard’s position. Low pay, but at least she isn’t risking her life.”

  “Did you know?” Oreon speaks up, “she is a sergeant now.”

  “What?” Someone whose name Tenil can’t remember exclaims.

  “I know right? She doesn’t deserve it,” Yuth fills in.

  “Silence!” Tenil yells. “Bad-mouthing a superior is a war crime, even if it is a minor one.”

  “Superior? Don’t make me laugh,” Rikyl speaks. “You aren’t our commanding officer, much less part of our regiment. Not just that, we aren’t in the middle of a battle or any o
ther situation where your leadership is needed.” Rikyl refers to a military law of Phyr. They have no obligations to treat Tenil as a superior since she is from a different battalion. During battle or any other situation where leadership might be needed, however, they’d have to follow her orders.

  “Guys, shall we teach her some manners?” Oreon is speaking.

  “Sure!”

  The sight of them approaching her triggers a trauma in her. It’s just like back at the fortress, except that they don’t have lascivious intentions. She fears men, all of them except her own father. Even the empire’s soldiers aren’t as bad.

  The world turns gray around her, all color lost. Her mind is blank of all useless thoughts. She sees her ‘comrades’ as enemies. “Stay away!” Tenil yells as they come closer.

  “Shut up!”

  Oreon attempts to seize her—but Tenil kicks him between the legs, again. Blood drains from his face, his pained expression perfect. Rikyl and many others are alarmed by the possibility of their walnuts meeting the same end. They surround her fast, Tenil’s back against a wall.

  The world has lost its lively look once again. The objects in front of her are nothing but a danger to her. They’re gathering around her to make sure no one can see what’ll happen.

  Rikyl tries to punch her in the abdomen with the armored glove every knight has. Tenil bends her body to dodge it, but before she can react to it, Yuth from the side delivers a blow to her face. Someone else from the Ivymn unit tries the same, but he is slower than Yuth. Tenil ducks to avoid the fist, then hits the guy with an uppercut.

  Another one kicks her pelvis, causing her to hit the floor. Oreon stands up, infuriated. The desire to use violence on her shows on his face. He hasn’t paid back the first occasion just yet, and now’s a perfect chance.

  Just as he is about to kick Tenil, someone stops him midway. “Oreon, stop it! There is an officer coming this way!”

  He clicks his tongue. “Damn it.” He lifts Tenil forcefully, making her stand. “Act as if nothing happened, or you’ll have the colonel at your throat,” he threatens.

  Tenil is puzzled at the mention of the colonel. Does he hate her as well? She can’t tell. Ignoring the clue for now, Tenil brushes off Oreon’s hands, walking past the young knights, knocking aside those who aren’t making way for her. The officer coming towards them is a captain. Tenil has left the scene before the captain spots her.