The Thunderer and the Valkyrie
Martel slept soundly as soon as the opportunity came, as did nearly the entire cohort, except for a few sentinels. When dawn arrived, they began to clear the area. Most importantly, bodies were hauled away and placed in a pyre, which Martel ignited. The overpowering smell of burnt flesh reminded him of his last months in Morcaster, with fires burning the victims of the pestilence.
"Why are we making such efforts to clean up the place?" he asked, as he came upon Eleanor, who had gone to the other side of the clearing, escaping the smoke and smell.
"I cannot say. I thought we would make our journey back to camp immediately. I will ask Valerius."
"I admire your initiative. I'm too lazy to chase around after him," Martel admitted, and he sat down on the ground, placing his staff next to him. He spoke only partly in jest; the long marches several days in a row had worn him out. Of everyone present in the clearing, he probably possessed the least stamina, even if daily training with Eleanor had helped. In fact, he did not mind the delay in returning; the longer he could relax before they had to march back, the better. As his protector left, Martel leaned back against a tree trunk to do just that.
"Mage of fire!"
Recognising both voice and words, the battlemage opened an eye. "Hullo, Starkad." If the berserker wanted to speak eye to eye, he would have to sit down; Martel saw no need to get up.
"What a battle last night! A joy to witness."
"You were present? You could have helped," Martel chastised him.
"I am paid to scout, not to fight," the berserker argued.
"Speaking of that, I thought all you Tyrians were patrolling the area during the fight."
"The others, yes, yes, but I stayed behind to watch," Starkad explained. "Just in case matters went poorly. And I am glad I did!"
"You must have seen plenty of battles before."
"Not like this! Thunder in your hand, wielding lightning like Thunraz himself!"
"Oh that," Martel remarked, feeling pleased. He had no idea who Starkad referred to, but he assumed it was a compliment. "I suppose it was a neat bit of spellwork."
"And your woman, charging into battle like a valkyrja!"
"She's not – what does that mean?"
Starkad grinned. "I just told you. Alas, mage of fire, I have no more time for idle talk. If we are to stay here, we shall have need of meat! Me and mine are going to hunt." With those words, the Tyrian disappeared before Martel could understand the implication of what he had said.
***
"We are expected to stay here. This is to be a permanent outpost."
Martel opened his eyes and looked up at Eleanor. "This far from camp? Practically out in the open?" The thought made him uncomfortable. While he doubted the Khivans possessed the numbers to attack a full cohort, at least not currently, the Asterians would be vulnerable to ambushes every time they left the small clearing.
"Yes." She walked back and forth in front of him. "Valerius knew all along, but nobody saw any reason to inform us."
He sighed. "I could have brought alchemical supplies. More clothes. Even the Tyrians knew about this, and we didn't."
"They did?"
"Yeah. I spoke with Starkad briefly just now. He and his people are out hunting, so we'll have food."
Eleanor sat down next to him. "This may seem immodest, but I would argue that our presence in the fight reduced casualties significantly."
"I'd say that's fair," Martel assented.
"And yet it seems like we are an afterthought," she complained. "I understand that we were not assigned to this legion as part of some greater stratagem, but we are here now, and our worth is unquestionable. Yet they risk us on meaningless patrols and barely take us into account when planning their assaults."
She sounded surprised, unlike Martel, who had expected little else. He had come to understand the workings of the Empire already back at the Lyceum. Eleanor had only just begun to realise this. Until now, she had been protected from this, growing up in a world without any of these realities intruding.
Martel decided to simply tell it to her. "Eleanor, you remember how your father was dismissed as legate, all for politics?"
She stiffened. "Of course."
"That was not a unique case of injustice. This is how the Empire is. My assignment to the Tenth is just another example. Lists written down on parchment, whether people or supplies, all just numbers. Decisions are made by people who'll never feel the consequences. There is no greater plan, no grand strategy. Just resources being spent and wasted, numbers going up or down."
"That cannot be true. The Asterian legions have conquered the entirety of the old Aquilan empire, and all of Nordmark in addition! Aster is the greatest power this continent has ever known!"
"All of that is true," Martel assented, "but it doesn't contradict anything I said."
"I cannot believe this," Eleanor mumbled to herself. "I am going to find Valerius. I have my doubts he has thought everything through. We will run out of water soon." She got back up and stalked away, crossing the clearing.
Left behind, Martel considered the situation. At some point, the cohort would be relieved, presumably, by another from camp. But as he and Eleanor were not attached to a particular cohort, just the legion in general, would the orders of relief include them? Or would they just be expected to stay at this outpost, possibly forgotten by their superiors? Martel would not be surprised at this outcome.
He got on his feet, picking up his staff. The soldiers had been at work all morning, removing the bodies and now dismantling the palisades as well. Martel began walking towards the remnants of the camp. If they were to stay here for the foreseeable future, he would try to scavenge one of the tents; perhaps a little bit of comfort and a dry place to sleep could be salvaged.
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