Ari had always hated wearing armour.
They understood the importance of it, of course. It was designed to save lives, and usually did its job admirably. The set of chain mail they were wearing right now, enchanted by their own hand, had fulfilled that particular duty dozens of times over. If you included the rest of the set – their helmet, shield, greaves, gauntlets, and so on – then that number climbed exponentially. Beyond that, Ari couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship. Even the most basic pieces possessed a utilitarian beauty, to say nothing of the more ornate creations they had seen. None of that knowledge, however, didn’t change the fact that it was so damn uncomfortable.
It chafed something terrible, and itched in places that were impossible to scratch. Whenever Ari put the padding on, they felt like it only took five minutes for them to sweat through it. The helmet, in particular, always drew their ire. It made them feel like they were both choking and blinded, all at once. As if they were drowning. For all the years they’d devoted to study, they had never been able to figure out how some people wore the stuff every day, or marched in it for hours without reprive. The knowledge that it had saved their life so often made their discomfort more bearable, but only slightly.
Unable to stand it any longer, Ari pulled their helmet from their head as soon as the fighting lulled, against their own better judgement. They took a deep breath, tried to blink the sweat from their eyes, and turned their gaze to their surroundings. It didn’t take them long to start regretting that particular decision. This particular skirmish might have ended, but the horrors of battle still lingered. Scattered bodies littered the cobblestone street in frightening numbers. Both friends and foes stared up at the sky with vacant, unblinking eyes. Their blood pooled and mixed, dyeing the gutters a deep crimson. The smell was so overpowering that Ari swore they could taste its distinct, coppery tang on the back of their tongue.
To distract themselves, Ari turned their attention to the buildings that lined the street. They seemed to press in close, and were backlit by the distinct orange glow of distant flames. Architecturally speaking, the designs were simple. Two-story shops and homes, built with a mixture of wood and stone. The entire street was almost indistinguishable from any of the others Ari had passed through so far. There were no officia-lookingl buildings, or churches, or infrastructure. Nothing that looked important in any noticeable way. Why had their opponents decided to make their stand here, instead of falling back to the keep with the rest of the city’s retreating defenders? Ari couldn’t make sense of it. They had plenty of questions, but no answers.
Nose wrinkled in displeasure, Ari tried to forget all this needless death, and instead sought out the other survivors. Watched as the rest of their squad reassembled, stepping over the bodies to group up again. They took the time to retrieve anything useful, bandage their wounded, and offer mercy to those beyond saving, all under the watchful eye of their captain – a bulky man with a weathered face, distinguished from his companions by the knots on his shoulder. Ari quickly moved to join them, determined to offer whatever assistance they could. They were an average fighter at best, competent only at keeping themselves alive, and occupying enemies until the more skilled members of their squad could finish them. Here, though, Ari could be of use. Saving others had always been their preference anyway.
Without stopping to ask, Ari took a moment to rest their spear against the nearest building, before crouching down alongside one of their wounded companions; a woman with an arrow embedded in the meat of her thigh. It had pierced deep enough for the tip to emerge from the other side. That was a blessing, in a way – Ari wouldn’t have dared treat the wound here if the barbed arrowhead were still inside her body. With deft hands, they drew a piece of boiled linen from a pouch at their waist, whilst the other slipped their belt knife free of its sheath. They didn’t have any sort of antibacterial agents with them, or the time for a full examination, but it didn’t look as if the arrow had struck the leg’s major artery, based on the flow of blood She would survive long enough to make it back to the actual medics, so long as Ari worked quickly.
They had just lowered the knife to the arrow’s shaft when the runner approached. Ari was so focused on stripping fletching from wood that they didn’t notice the messenger’s presence until he knelt down alongside them. Ari threw the man a brief sideways glance, before handing him the piece of linen.
“Sir? I’m not a medic.”
“You can use your hands at the same time as your mouth, can’t you? As soon as I pull this free, put pressure on the wound.” Ari’s voice was measured, but insistent. When it came to the lives of their allies, they would brook no argument. Thankfully, the young messenger seemed to recognize that, and refrained from pressing the issue.
“Y-yes sir.”
“Don’t call me that. I’m not an officer.” Before the messenger could speak again, Ari returned their knife to its sheath, before placing one hand on the arrow, and the other on the woman’s leg. He gave the wounded soldier a warning look, before pulling the shaft the rest of the way through their leg. The woman jolted beneath his fingers, a groan of pain slipping from her lips, but Ari tried to ignore her pain. Whilst the messenger did as they had requested, Ari pulled another strip of linen from their pouch, and set about bandaging the wound.
“You’ll survive. So long as you don’t put too much weight on it, you won’t suffer any lasting damage, and you’ll have a nice scar you can show off to boot.” Ari clapped the woman on the shoulder gently, before rising. They retrieved their spear, before turning to face the messenger properly. On any other day, Ari would have rushed to the other wounded, but apparently another pressing matter required their attention. Thankfully, the messenger didn't waste any time, and instead cut straight to the heart of the issue.
“The castle gates have fallen, sir. Your squad is to head there immediately. Lord Salgon will want you there for the big moment.” The man spoke quickly, but clearly. He didn’t seem all that out of breath, for how far he must’ve run today. The benefits of experience, Ari supposed. Nonetheless, they couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“Shouldn’t you be reporting this to our commanding officer?” Ari tipped his spear towards the man, who stood just a few paces away, arms folded over his chest haughtily.
“Everyone knows that you have Lord Salgon’s ear, Si…soldier.” The man had the good grace to look embarrassed, at the very least. He turned to face the captain, but the larger man just sighed and shook his head.
“Forget it, son” the captain grumbled, before turning away. When next he spoke, his voice boomed, echoing out to reach the rest of their group. “You all heard him, lads. We’ll have to leave the rest of the stragglers to the other squads. We make for the keep instead. You have two minutes to get your shit together.” The captain turned away, and started issuing orders to individuals. Ari ignored him. Instead, they dismissed the messenger with a simple gesture, and went to retrieve their helmet. They didn’t plan on putting it back on, but they could make a show of carrying the damn thing, at the very least.
Captain Hardow was as good as his word. Within two minutes, everyone in their squad who was still combat-ready was marching through the streets again, winding their way towards the keep. Minus the handful of men he’d left behind to escort the wounded to safety, of course. As they drew closer, Ari found themselves staring up at the large stone castle and its inner walls as they towered overhead. Despite everything that they’d seen and done today, despite their growing fatigue, a small smile graced their features.
“Looks like you were right, Salgon. We really can do this. There’s no way you’ll be any worse of a ruler than the former queen, either, even if you are the dark lord. Just don’t start the party before I get there.”
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