he could. There were casualties, but this is war and we can’t blame the man who leads us for that.’
The crowd nodded their consent so Pollux continued. ‘There is one man amongst us who knows the baron well. He served with him on the front line while many of us were still children. Byrn would like to say a few words for a fallen friend.’
The old man looked forlorn with the brown leather strap covering his empty eye socket. He cracked his knuckles as he stood quietly in front of the assembled, trying to collect his thoughts.
‘I knew Cronos when we were boys, and then as part of the Buckthorne infantry. We served together for as long as I can remember, always together on those missions, no matter how dangerous. We fought together on the front lines, much like you do now. One time when we were younger, our patrol happened to stumble into a Kyzantine poaching ring near the ruins of Vargoth. We were completely outnumbered but Cronos wanted to attack anyway.’
‘It was a brutal attack in near darkness, Cronos was a blur, his blade dripped with blood. He killed over a third of them by himself, he was just that quick when he was younger — earned himself a reputation that day, all across the bloody Empire. We let one of them go just so he could bear witness and tell those other bastards to keep out of the Kingdom. Never had another problem with poaching around Buckthorne again, something that the baron was proud of.’
‘Cronos was a good man, a battle brother I will never forget. Every time I step onto the field of battle he will be by my side, giving me the courage to stand tall and firm, but above all else he will be missed.’
A single tear escaped his good eye. Byrn didn’t flinch at the weakness of emotion. Cronos was a man who deserved the utmost respect.
Octans stepped forward and placed a hand on Byrn’s shoulder, signalling that his moment was over. He coughed and cleared his throat, the attention now on him as he tugged his left ear lobe.
‘I’ll make this quick, but there is another that we bury here today who deserves special mention. Tove stood with us at the centre of Black Claw Gate when those wooden doors collapsed. He volunteered to step forward with no reassurance that he would survive. Tove died defending the Kingdom, he died defending the rest of us, gave us the time we needed to get the gates closed. The man was a hero and should be recognised as such.’
Octans nodded, done with his eulogy. Pollux appreciated the effort, knowing how hard Octans must have worked to carefully say everything he wanted to in front of all these men. ‘The men we bury deserve our respect. They gave their lives in service to keep others safe. They protected our backs, spent their time on the front line and killed the enemy. They shared food with us, told stories and laughed. We will be silent as their bodies are lowered to their final resting place and pray that the gods look after them in their journeys onwards.’
Pollux lowered his eyes, firmly believing all the Buckthorne men were doing the same. He looked up briefly to see the selected few start placing the bodies in the freshly dug graves and watched intently as they got the send off that they deserved. When the bodies were lowered Pollux spoke. ‘Mourn the dead but do not dwell on thoughts of death. They died so we can live, think of life today. Dismissed.’
The burial crew grabbed shovels and the dirt began piling on the bodies. Pollux saluted and wandered off. So many things needed his attention now he was in charge. Supply wagons had been due two days ago and the men were getting hungry. The doctors needed medical supplies and some of the wounded needed to be evacuated. Most of all he needed to sleep to keep his weary brain and bones working when it was his turn to stand on the walls amongst his men.
Pollux went about seeking solitude, but instead he found Octans walking directly toward him.
‘We need to talk,’ Octans muttered, glancing
The crowd nodded their consent so Pollux continued. ‘There is one man amongst us who knows the baron well. He served with him on the front line while many of us were still children. Byrn would like to say a few words for a fallen friend.’
The old man looked forlorn with the brown leather strap covering his empty eye socket. He cracked his knuckles as he stood quietly in front of the assembled, trying to collect his thoughts.
‘I knew Cronos when we were boys, and then as part of the Buckthorne infantry. We served together for as long as I can remember, always together on those missions, no matter how dangerous. We fought together on the front lines, much like you do now. One time when we were younger, our patrol happened to stumble into a Kyzantine poaching ring near the ruins of Vargoth. We were completely outnumbered but Cronos wanted to attack anyway.’
‘It was a brutal attack in near darkness, Cronos was a blur, his blade dripped with blood. He killed over a third of them by himself, he was just that quick when he was younger — earned himself a reputation that day, all across the bloody Empire. We let one of them go just so he could bear witness and tell those other bastards to keep out of the Kingdom. Never had another problem with poaching around Buckthorne again, something that the baron was proud of.’
‘Cronos was a good man, a battle brother I will never forget. Every time I step onto the field of battle he will be by my side, giving me the courage to stand tall and firm, but above all else he will be missed.’
A single tear escaped his good eye. Byrn didn’t flinch at the weakness of emotion. Cronos was a man who deserved the utmost respect.
Octans stepped forward and placed a hand on Byrn’s shoulder, signalling that his moment was over. He coughed and cleared his throat, the attention now on him as he tugged his left ear lobe.
‘I’ll make this quick, but there is another that we bury here today who deserves special mention. Tove stood with us at the centre of Black Claw Gate when those wooden doors collapsed. He volunteered to step forward with no reassurance that he would survive. Tove died defending the Kingdom, he died defending the rest of us, gave us the time we needed to get the gates closed. The man was a hero and should be recognised as such.’
Octans nodded, done with his eulogy. Pollux appreciated the effort, knowing how hard Octans must have worked to carefully say everything he wanted to in front of all these men. ‘The men we bury deserve our respect. They gave their lives in service to keep others safe. They protected our backs, spent their time on the front line and killed the enemy. They shared food with us, told stories and laughed. We will be silent as their bodies are lowered to their final resting place and pray that the gods look after them in their journeys onwards.’
Pollux lowered his eyes, firmly believing all the Buckthorne men were doing the same. He looked up briefly to see the selected few start placing the bodies in the freshly dug graves and watched intently as they got the send off that they deserved. When the bodies were lowered Pollux spoke. ‘Mourn the dead but do not dwell on thoughts of death. They died so we can live, think of life today. Dismissed.’
The burial crew grabbed shovels and the dirt began piling on the bodies. Pollux saluted and wandered off. So many things needed his attention now he was in charge. Supply wagons had been due two days ago and the men were getting hungry. The doctors needed medical supplies and some of the wounded needed to be evacuated. Most of all he needed to sleep to keep his weary brain and bones working when it was his turn to stand on the walls amongst his men.
Pollux went about seeking solitude, but instead he found Octans walking directly toward him.
‘We need to talk,’ Octans muttered, glancing
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