"Show me," Hector ordered.
"What?" The young man, Hermund Sigeferthsson, said, surprised.
"I said show me. I asked who believed they'd improved their shooting accuracy and speed the most in these past weeks. You stepped forward first, and I might be inclined to agree. So show me that I'm not wrong."
The man hesitated for a moment. Then he tightened his grip on his bow and took his place at the railing seventy yards away from the shooting targets. As he reached back to grasp an arrow from his quiver, Hector spoke again.
"No," he said bluntly. "Not from there. Come back to where I'm standing."
Sigeferthsson gawked at his commander. If he moved back that much, he would be shooting from a full ten yards farther away than he was used to. He had shot seventy yards away from a target for the past four weeks of training!
"Now, Sigeferthsson," Hector commanded. "That's an order."
Sigeferthsson begrudgingly went back to where he had been standing before. He eyed Hector curiously while he drew out an arrow from the quiver on his back. He then carefully strung the simple bow. He pulled back the string, took aim, and finally let the arrow go. The arrow struck the target just an inch or two right of the center.
"Very good," Hector said. "Do it again."
Sigeferthsson began to retrieve another arrow when Hector suddenly took a step towards him.
"Faster," he ordered.
Sigeferthsson continued the process only for Hector to repeat his previous order again, getting closer and speaking louder. He said it again. And then again. He was shouting now. Sigeferthsson's hands were starting to shake, his eyes darting between his commander and the bow.
"Faster, Sigeferthsson!" Hector was screaming right in the man's ear. "Half your friends are dead by now! The rest will be by the time it takes you to string that! Their blood is on your hands! Faster!"
Sigeferthsson dropped the bow and the arrow. Hector kicked the man's legs out from underneath him as he bent down to retrieve his weapon. The warrior knelt on top of him, pressing his knee into Sigeferthsson's spine and grabbing a fistful of his copper hair. Hector tugged the young man's head upward. He leaned down until his mouth was directly next to his ear.
"And now you're dead too," Hector hissed.
The warrior got off of Sigeferthsson and nearly tossed him back into his place in the front line of the formation by his hair. The rest of the men and women in line gawked at their officer. They couldn't believe what they'd just seen.
Hector began to stride up and down the line of refugee soldiers with his hands tucked neatly behind his back. He looked each of them in the eyes as he spoke.
"It's been four weeks since I took control of your company. There are one hundred and eight of you. And yet not one of you is ready to be placed on a battlefield. It's true that your technical skill and formation has improved, but all of you lack what I'm looking for most.
"Do you think the enemy is going to go easy on you and wait for you to slowly string your bow? Do you think that a battlefield is going to be anything less than distracting, bloody chaos? Do you really believe that the only life you're responsible for on that battlefield is your own?"
"NO, SIR!"
"Well, I don't believe you! All any of you have shown me is that you are stupid, selfish, and incapable of functioning when it really matters! I might as well let the Insurrectionists have you!"
Hector stared down the group of men and women, his eyes blazing. Almost all of them were shaking, and some of the younger ones looked like they were holding back tears. Then Hector turned to face his sister.
Adira had been standing on the sidelines for some time now, and Hector knew it, but she was perfectly capable of waiting. The warrior needed to get this point across to his soldiers, if he could even call them that. But finally, he decided that he had said and done enough.
"I dismiss you to Lady Adira," Hector said, waving them away. "She's taking over your afternoon drilling. Fall out!"
Hector turned on his heel and strode away with his head held high. Adira began her work with the refugee soldiers as if she hadn't been watching what just happened. However, someone else had been watching, and they didn't intend to pass it off as nothing.
Eugene jogged up to his friend's side and glared at him out of the corner of his eye.
"What's with the side-eye?" Hector asked.
"Must you be so hard on them?" Eugene said angrily. "You've been rough since the start, but this? Come on, Hector! Do you even care about them? They're doing their best!"
"And their best is going to get them killed if it's not improved. What happens when they freak out like Sigeferthsson did? What happens when the enemy takes advantage of that? What then, your highness?"
Eugene winced and froze when Hector spat out those last words. He looked hurt. Hector noticed and stopped walking. He turned back to his friend, and his voice softened as he spoke.
"I do care about them. I care about them quite a lot. They're my soldiers. And that's exactly why I'm hard on them. If they can't even string a bow when someone is shouting at them, what makes you think they'll survive being on a battlefield? If they lose focus for even a second, they'll be killed, and that leaves less defense for the rest. They make up a third of our fighters. An army that shuts down as soon as it's pressured isn't an army at all. When they're all dead because they couldn't keep it together, who will be there to protect the old and the injured?
"I'm trying to keep everyone alive, Eugene. If that means I have to be cruel to them, so be it. War is cruel. I had hoped that you would understand that. I really don't appreciate you biting my head off about everything. I know you're worried about Rapunzel, and we're doing the best we can to get a message to her, but you being like this isn't helping anyone."
Eugene scowled down at the ground but kept his mouth shut. Hector sighed. He thought it was best to leave the prince be, so he walked away and left Eugene behind. Hector would find a time to talk to him later, but for now he needed to go visit his squires. Then it would be back to training with the refugee soldiers. He would be with them for the rest of the day. They were his top priority.
It had been a month, and yet they still were nowhere near ready to fight. The Loyalist runners and spies had brought back more information on the movements of the Insurrectionist, but General Ulysses was seriously considering bringing all of the spies back to the Loyalist sanctuary for good. They had lost fifteen spies to the suicide pills in just the past three weeks. They were getting caught almost every time they were sent out. The Insurrectionists were taking more precautions and had tripled security around the palace in the capital. General Ulysses was worried that one of his spies would be caught and would be unable to take the poison in time. The Insurrectionist would torture the location of the sanctuary out of the spies, and the Loyalists would be attacked before they were anywhere near ready to fight back.
However, this would mean that many if not all of the runners would be sent back as well. They couldn't risk any of them being caught while they were searching for supplies and people. But this meant that the effort to get a message to Queen Rapunzel of Corona would have to stop. Without a proper warning, the queen would arrive in the Capital, right into the Insurrectionists hands.
Hector groaned and sat down on the nearest crate of supplies, putting his head in his hands. This was an incredibly delicate situation. No matter what they chose to do, someone would die or worse.
Such is the way of war.
"Are you alright, Véurr?"
Hector jumped slightly at the sound of someone speaking to him. He didn't recognize the woman standing above him, but she seemed very concerned. She was probably just another soldier or more likely a supplier. Hector was probably sitting on one of her supply crates. He shouldn't have stopped to mope. He was in public, for God's sake!
"Yes, yes, I'm quite alright, ma'am," Hector answered quickly, standing up and brushing himself off. "I just have a bit of a headache is all."
"Begging your pardon, lord, but that didn't look like a bit of a headache. The way you were groaning, you looked to be in serious pain. Here, have some water and sit in the shade for a moment. I've seen you marching around with the soldiers since dawn. You need to rest, my lord."
"You don't need to do that for me ma'am, I assure you. Thank you, but I'll just be on my way. I have squires to look after."
"All the more reason you need to have your energy up."
The woman led Hector inside her supply tent before the warrior could protest further. She sat him down on the nearest chair and immediately fetched him some cold water. Then she went back outside and back to her work. She apparently was a leatherworker. The inside of her tent was disorganized, and most things weren't unpacked yet. Clearly, she had arrived at the stone fortress very recently. If so, she wasn't alone.
It had turned out that General Ulysses really had been strictly regulating who could stay at the fortress, because since Eugene had convinced him to allow more refugees in, their numbers were just over doubled. In the past four weeks, a little over four hundred people had arrived at the sanctuary. This meant that there was a larger workforce and a larger refugee army, but it also meant more mouths to feed. Only about half the new refugees had brought any useful supplies with them. Rations were getting smaller. It wasn't enough to panic over, but still, it was worrying.
After about five minutes spent inside the leatherworker's tent, Hector decided to leave. He wasn't feeling any less stressed about what the future held for him, his friends, and his people, but at least he wasn't thirsty anymore. Hector quickly thanked the woman once he was outside. She asked if he was sure that he would be okay, and he assured her that he felt much better. This was a blatant lie, but it made the leatherworker feel better.
As Hector continued on his way around the back of the keep to where his squires trained, he made a mental note to make sure that he wasn't in public when he needed to blow off steam or rest. He was Véurr, the people's guardian, and a member of the Brotherhood. He couldn't afford to let anyone see him start to worry. If he looked stressed and scared, then they would be terrified. It was his job to stay calm and collected. What had happened today wouldn't be happening again, he would make sure of it.
Hector was a few minutes late to train with his squires, but the children and their instructors didn't seem to notice, and even if they did, they didn't mind. They themselves were behind schedule. Still, Hector apologized for being late and assured the three priestesses and Mythica that it wouldn't be happening again.
Mythica often helped with the squires when she had time. Which, to be fair, she didn't have a lot of. But every spare second that she did have was spent with the children. They deserved a little attention and a little treat with everything that was going on. And it was a treat indeed to have both a member of the brotherhood and the High Priestess help them train for a few hours. The squires were thrilled to see both of them and listened intently as they started the lesson together.
They were working with the sevens today, helping them learn basic self-defense. Usually, the kids wouldn't learn this until the following year when they were eight. However, the three priestesses responsible for their training and General Ulysses all agreed it was best to have them learn these skills a bit early.
Mythica watched Hector out of the corner of her eye throughout the lesson. She'd known him his entire life; she knew every one of his tells and could easily figure out when something was wrong.
Hector didn't like that she kept watching him, but the warrior tried to ignore it. She would most likely keep him up that night after the scheduled meeting with Ulysses and the rest of the Brotherhood by asking him about what had happened, and Hector was not looking forward to it. He knew she meant well, but he didn't want her always asking after him, seeing if he was okay. Everyone, Adira, Quirin, Ulysses had all been pulling him aside to ask if he was okay for weeks now. He wasn't. He wasn't anywhere close to feeling okay, but neither was anyone else. He hated that everyone felt the need to talk with him and pity him. He wasn't okay, and the fact that everyone was treating him like a moody teenager was making it worse. He didn't need to have a talk or cry it out like everyone seemed to think. He needed to be left alone so he could work and tolerate the stress like a goddamn adult!
These angry thoughts and emotions burned through Hector constantly as he tried to help with his squires. He mostly just walked around to make sure that everyone was practicing correctly. He did his best to control himself, but he did snap at a child or two when they were doing something particularly wrong or annoying. He hated the hurt look in their eyes, but he wouldn't back down once he'd started. If he apologized, then they'd ask why he'd been so upset, and then he'd have to try to explain his complicated feelings to a bunch of seven-year-olds. Hector never wanted to ever lay his burdens down on the children; they were kids, and he would let them be kids.
Finally, the three hours of training was finished. Unfortunately, Hector's day was nowhere close to completed. He had to go back to the company of refugees where he would spend the rest of the day with them, trying to get it through their thick skulls that if they hesitate or freak out, they die. Then it was on to the evening meeting in the throne room that Ulysses had planned. Hector had no idea how long that would go on for. Then the warrior would have to deal with Mythica's unappreciated motherly concern, maybe someone else's as well. After that, it was late night paperwork, patrol, and research until the morning when it was time for more squires.
"Another sleepless night," Hector mumbled angrily under his breath. "Hooray."
~*~
"You look like death," Ulysses said.
Hector's head shot up and his eyes met the general's. He looked at the warrior with sympathy, not pity. Friendly sympathy.
Hector had been leaning against the wall outside the throne room for some time after the evening meeting. The meeting itself hadn't been too terribly long. A large family of twenty-eight had arrived and had brought a staggering amount of supplies with which they were more than willing to share. It wasn't much but hunting had been going well the past two or three days, so it was starting to look up for the storehouses.
But more importantly, they knew where Rapunzel was. She was currently on her way to the Dark Kingdom in the Solis. If they were to get a message to the queen, the Loyalists would have to track the movements of the airship and get a message to her when it landed. It was far too risky to send someone to meet her outside of the borders, so they would have to wait until she was inside the Dark Kingdom. This meant that there would most likely be only one place Queen Rapunzel and her entourage landed inside the borders because of how fast the airship traveled. All this meant that the Loyalists had one chance to get a message to her or else she would land in the Capital, right into the hands of the Insurrectionists.
This news was both very good and very bad. Thankfully, there was a way to get a message to her and to get her to safety at the Loyalist sanctuary. Prince Eugene had almost cried with joy when he was told there was a way to save his wife and unborn child, but after a stern look from Hector, the prince held it together. On the flip side, this was very, very risky. They had one chance and one chance alone. If they missed it or made any kind of mistake, it would be over, and Rapunzel would be in the clutches of the Insurrectionists. Everything had to be planned perfectly and go perfectly. But there was a chance, and they would be fools not to seize it.
The meeting had been adjourned with the promise that another would be held the following afternoon. At that meeting many more people would be present, and everyone was expected to bring something to the table. This was their future queen they were trying to save; she and the training of soldiers was their top priority.
Now Hector was looking into General Ulysses' eyes. The warrior had been trying to catch a breath outside of the throne room after the meeting, but he must have looked awful leaning up against the cold wall with his head bowed like that.
"Feeling blunt, are we?" Hector replied with a chuckle. "Though I suppose you're right. I feel like death too."
"Any particular reason for that?" Ulysses asked.
"What do you think?"
"Well, I don't know. That's why I'm asking."
Hector laughed softly, and Ulysses chuckled along with him. Hector tucked his hair behind his ear. It was starting to fall out of the ponytail that I had put it in that afternoon. Ulysses in turn ran his fingers through his own long, fiery red hair. Both men always played with their hair absently.
"But seriously..." Ulysses said, his voice and smile softening into something concerned and caring. "What's wrong, Hex?"
"Oh, pulling out the nicknames, huh?"
"Yes. And if you don't start telling me what's been bothering you, then I'll be forced to use some old favorites, Hectagon."
"No, no, no! Don't you dare start calling me that again!"
"I like it! I think it suits a multi-talented individual like yourself! Right, Heckles?"
"Stop!"
Both Hector and Ulysses laughed uncontrollably, bracing themselves on each other. Ulysses continued to laugh out silly little pet names for Hector until he couldn't breathe. The warrior in turn began using his own on the general. The two stayed like that, ignoring the stares they got from a passing group of priests, until their sides were sore and they were thoroughly out of breath. Hector smiled up at the taller man.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I needed that, really."
"You know I'm always here if you ever need anything," Ulysses replied. "And I'm glad I could make you laugh. Now, what does the rest of the night hold for you?"
"Only a ridiculous amount of paperwork, planning, and an early morning patrol. So, in conclusion, not any sleep."
"You should rest. You didn't sleep last night either, or the night before that."
"I don't have time for that, Sees. The patrol starts at three this morning. It's already eleven. I need to spend those four hours writing up training plans and preparing for the meeting tomorrow."
General Ulysses sighed heavily. He began playing with his hair and staring at the ground, deep in thought. Hector eyed him both curiously and cautiously. What was going on in that brain of his now? Then, Ulysses met Hector's eyes again.
"I'll tell you what," he said. "I'll take you back to your chambers and we can work on all that paperwork you have to do together. Then at three, you go to sleep, and I'll take your patrol."
"Ulysses!" Hector protested, grabbing him by the arm. "You can't do that! You need your rest too!"
"I slept well last night; I'll be fine. You need rest more than I do. You also need help with your other work. So I will help you with both the paperwork and the patrol. That way you're at least a little bit more refreshed for when you have to train the little squire tomorrow morning. Please, let me help you, Hector."
The warrior hesitated for a moment. Ulysses took his hands in his own, smiling down at him. A little pink flush rose to Hector's cheeks. He looked down at the floor hoping the general wouldn't notice. He could still feel Ulysses looking at him with those wide, kind green eyes. There seemed to be flecks of gold in them in the orange candlelight. And that smile, oh, that smile! How could Hector say no to that face?
"Fine!" Hector groaned dramatically. Ulysses' face lit up. "But let's be clear, this is a one-time thing! You're not going to be taking over my patrols all the time, understand?"
"Perfectly," General Ulysses responded with a wide smile. He held his arm out to Hector. "Shall we?"
"Ooh, such a gentleman."
"I do try."
The two linked arms and began their walk to Hector's chambers. On the way, they discussed their ideas and plans, what they were bringing to the meeting the following afternoon and how it would help with the plan to get Queen Rapunzel of Corona to the stone fortress safely. They also talked about how the training of the refugee soldiers was going. Hector expressed his concerns with how the refugees reacted under pressure. Ulysses assured the warrior that from then on he and the other commanders at the sanctuary would place extra emphasis on the attitude, reaction time, and level-headedness of the Loyalist soldiers.
By the time Hector and General Ulysses made it to the warrior's chambers, they were talking about the little squires and how much promise they both thought they showed. Finally, they unlinked arms as Hector ran to try to clear off his desk. He hastily and profusely apologized for the state of his chambers, but Ulysses comforted him saying that his own room wasn't much better. He also said that instead of trying to get them both to work at the relatively small and cluttered desk, they could instead gather what they needed and work on the chaise lounge. When Hector had first moved into the room, the chaise lounge hadn't been there, but it was put in as soon as General Ulysses knew where the warrior was staying. Hector didn't have any idea where Ulysses could have possibly gotten it. The warrior assumed it was the general's attempt to make the chambers feel more comfortable, but Hector had never and would never have used such a thing. He had never even touched it. But that was, since it meant that it wasn't covered with countless pieces of clothing, paper, and weaponry.
And so, Hector and Ulysses collected what they needed off of Hector's chaotic desk and positioned themselves on the chaise lounge. The chaise lounge faced the door of Hector's bedroom. The warrior had been quick to close the door before he and Ulysses sat down. It would be horribly improper if Hector allowed the general the opportunity to look into his bedchamber. He didn't think that Ulysses would ever think of doing such a thing, but still, precautions are never unreasonable.
For a while, the two stayed very formal in their work. They sat straight up with their best posture, carefully and professionally going over notes and writing down plans. But eventually, that all fell away. By the time the clock struck two, Ulysses was leaning up against the corner of the chaise lounge with his feet kicked up on the nearest stack of books, messy papers strewn around him. Hector in turn was lying on his stomach along the whole length of the chaise lounge with his bare feet tucked by the general's back. They worked quietly, not talking with each other anymore but simply finding comfort and productivity in one another's presence.
Ulysses suddenly spoke after he came across a particularly annoying predicament in his newly made schedule for the following two weeks.
"I do believe I'm stumped, Hex. We need the soldiers to have both more hand-to-hand combat training and more swordsmanship practice, but I can't fit them both anywhere. I can't move anything around either. The schedule is tight enough as it is, and we need everything on it. What do you think?"
Ulysses removed his eyes from the papers and was about to show them to Hector when he stopped, shocked.
Hector was fast asleep right on top of his stack of papers. His arm hung over the side of the chaise lounge, knuckles resting on the ground. His mouth was slightly open and his hair was strewn all about messily. Ulysses smiled to himself.
I wondered when that would happen, he thought.
General Ulysses gathered up his papers and set them down nearby. Then he carefully and slowly got up. He gently draped one of Hector's discarded cloaks over the warrior. He made sure to brush Hector's hair out of his face and close his mouth before gathering up the papers and making his way towards the door. When he was at the door, Ulysses looked back at Hector with a smile. The warrior looked so peaceful in a chaotic kind of way. It was hard to describe. But whatever it was, it made the general smile. He walked outside and closed the door quietly behind him, wishing Hector sweet dreams under his breath.
~*~
There was a rumbling sound. Like thunder but not quite. Muffled and yet loud. At least that's what it sounded like in Hector's sleep. The sound was enough like natural thunder that it didn't wake him, but it was also strange enough to almost alert him. He wasn't sure whether it was a part of his dreams or not. It was an incredibly strange state to be in, being awake but also not. It was alarming but also somehow calming. The sound got louder, but that wasn't what eventually woke the drifting warrior.
"HECTOR!"
The warrior was thrown off the chaise lounge roughly by his arm. He screamed in alarm as he hit the ground. He began searching for a weapon to fight whoever was attacking him but he never got the chance. He was dragged to his feet by strong arms who began to pull him towards something. Hector couldn't tell what. Both his mind and his vision were blurry and unfocused. He growled and tugged against the grip of whatever was dragging him, kicking and clawing.
"Hector! It's me, Hector! Hex!"
Hector immediately stopped fighting as soon as he heard the nickname. He squinted at the figure in front of him and General Ulysses soon came into focus.
"Sees... Sees, what's happenin'?" Hector groaned, his words slurring together.
"There's no time!"
Ulysses was already pulling Hector out the door of his chambers before he was even finished speaking. He held tightly onto Hector's wrist as he ran down the hallways of the stone fortress. People were shouting and screaming all around them, running around in organized groups. They were all armed.
Hector's heart was pounding, his thoughts racing. The rumbling sound continued. Now that he was awake, Hector noticed that it sounded more robotic than he had originally thought. It sounded like metal, like metal and like marching. It sounded like metal beasts were advancing towards them. But that couldn't be the case. That wasn't possible. Hector felt like he was going crazy. What was going on?! What was all this?! He tried his best to keep up with Ulysses so that the general wouldn't have to drag him too much, but his feet just wouldn't move as fast as he needed them to. They slapped against the cold stone floor, uneven and frantic. He didn't even have shoes on, nor was his tangled hair tied back. He couldn't take this anymore. He needed to know.
Hector stopped in his tracks, digging his bare heels into the ground although it hurt to do so. Ulysses almost fell backwards onto the hard floor.
"Ulysses, what is going on?!" Hector screamed. He has intended it to be a snarl, something authoritative, demanding an answer. What came out was a scared wail.
Ulysses took both Hector's hands in his and pressed them to his chest tightly.
"I am so, so sorry, and I know you're frightened, but we don't have time!" - Ulysses began running again, this time keeping Hector as close to him as possible. - "We need to get back to the king and the rest of the Brotherhood! We have to get to the gates before they do!"
Hector was about to frantically ask who 'they' was, when he caught a glimpse of something out a window as he ran past. His blood ran cold.
Out there on the horizon, marching towards them, cold and determined was an army, an army of armored Insurrectionists.
Greetings and Salutations, my loves! I am very, very sorry that this chapter is so late. I don't really have an excuse; life just happened. But I'm back now and I hope everyone enjoyed this ninth chapter of Rising Moon! Of course it contained more of Hector being stressed and tired because I never let him rest. But we got to see him train his soldiers. He's rough on them, huh? It's a tough love. He really does care. Oh, and Hector and Ulysses got to spend time together. Ulysses is such a lovely man, don't you think so? Hector certainly does! The poor flustered baby! And yes, the Insurrectionists have arrived. Well, as always constructive criticism is very welcome, and thank you all for reading. I really do appreciate it! I wish you all the best of luck and love for the rest of your day/night! God bless!
~12thPrinceOfDarkness