Prisoners

Col. Damien Renzellern. January 1731 City of Ber, Province of Ciresia, Osterian Empire.

A nightmare, one filled with death and despair, woke me up, reminding me of a life I used to call mine.

The coincidence is laughable. My first step back and this nightmare seemingly bares itself. I chuckle at the thought.

Then again, reliving it left a bitter taste in my mouth. But with my recent decisions. Those same memories would prove useful.

Because now, it is now a life I'm willing to go back to, just to take my revenge.

Memories flashes back once more, I clench my fist at the thought before shaking it away, letting my anger get the better of me now would only cloud my judgement.

And so, I stood. The pain that ripped through me forced me to scream, The feeling of my bones crumbling, my muscles being ripped apart and the pulse beating through my ears leaves me in scrambling through the ground.

It seems that I have forgotten the pains and aches of magical exhaustion, I grit my teeth in pain before I close my eyes and forced the mana within me to circulate, relieving the thunderous pain beating through my body.

It took minutes and with it gone, I reach for my uniform, my saber carrying me as a cane, relieving the ache running through my legs as I walk, intent on reporting my latest achievements.

It took a while for me to finish before a familiar voice spoke.

"Sir? May I enter?."

"Lieutenant Forst?"

"Yes, sir. Can I enter? I have come to report over to you the casualties that our battalion suffered."

"Dont bother. Give me a status of the recent battle as I walk." I say as I limp out of my tent, saber on hand, helping me to walk like a cane as I greet the morning sky.

He widens his eyes. "Sir, I don't believe you should exert yourselves with such a condition."

"I am more than aware of my capabilities as of the moment, and walking is one of those."

He stays silent before acknowledging my words. "If you say so."

"Good."

With that, I turn, "So, how much did we lose?"

Forst follows, "Four hundred soldiers, sir."

"A fifth? That is to be expected. But how has the high command responded?"

"The casualties within General Klein's army were minimal, yet the officers it took were more than they have bargained for."

"What does that have to do with our battalion?" I raise an eyebrow.

"The General has granted you control over five thousand men. They have decided to re-consolidate them after your command and have granted you two hundred mages and three hundred cavalry."

My eyes widen at his words. What does that mean? What sort of scheme are they playing? Why would they give me three thousand soldiers in such an early time in my career?

Though my feats of magic are extraordinary, my inexperience and questionable background should have stopped them from making such a choice.

What other reason could it be?

"Sir?" asks Forst, enough to shake me from my thoughts.

I look back to him, "What else did they say?"

"General Weissman asked for your presence the moment you are available."

I nod, "I see, then let's go."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The scent of blood and smoke permeated the landscape, even more so than the white uniforms of the Osterian bodies being hauled away to be buried.

It really was a gruesome sight. The sheer amount of death and blood was incomparable to anything I've seen before, and yet, I feel nothing.

A soft chuckle escapes my lips, it seems that bastard's conditioning isn't something so easily shaken off with death.

"Sir?"

"It is nothing, lieutenant. A simple joke came to mind."

"Is that so?"

He looks around the death covered plains and looks back at me with mild apprehension.

I try to ignore what he was implying and merely asked, "What happened to Schneider and Meyer?"

He looks back at me in mild surprise, probably due to his perception of my concern towards the two officers.

"They are taking a rest, their bodies magically exhausted."

"I see. Any permanent injuries?"

"None, sir."

"Well-"

The clinking of chains interrupts our conversation as a train of prisoners march past us, their expressions filled with hatred as they look at me in a mix of anger and fear.

"DEMON! YOU KILLED THEM, YOU DEMON!"

I look at the voice only to see an Osterian colonel running towards me, chains broken, saber in hand, eyes alight as he takes the crysm hidden between his sleeves.

The soldiers around try to apprehend him, before I raised my hand to stop them. The signs of magic were more than apparent and we can't waste anymore resources than we've already had.

The Osterian sees this and roars in indignation, the prisoners around him shouting and screaming their own anger.

Urged on by the surrounding men, his eyes bleed, his pale skin reddens, heat intensifies as he drains every bit of the surrounding magic, and a fireball forms before him.

Its intense heat sets the ground ablaze and the men behind only intensify in fervor as they struggle against their chains, a riot about to break out.

It could easily be crushed, yet any more casualties would be a problem for the impending battles. After all, the war isn't over yet.

So, with my mind made up, I shook my head in mockery. A fact that leaves the dying Osterian furious, he roars louder as his uniform burns, his orifices bleed, and his sweat turns red.

Unfazed by his valiant sacrifice, I raised my hand and the air around me shudders in magic, fifty rocks vibrate off of the ground before it whizzed past by us and immediately rips through his head and the prisoners behind him, the fireball fizzling out as the crowd stills in shocked silence.

The scene leaves me chuckling, because in his anger he forgot the first thing a mage should have: a shield.

I then look to the other prisoners, intent on putting the fear into such riots, "Remember that you are prisoners of Drissia! Keep your heads down or I shall mow them down."

With those words, the prisoners bowed their heads. Their spirit looking broken, as a dozen men laid dead, a scorched mark on where the colonel used to be.

Forst, who watched the entire time, spoke beside me, "Sir?"

"I am fine. Such minor feats of magic barely take a toll on me."

He looks shaken by my words. "I see, then, may I ask?"

"Ask what?" I curiously glance.

"The price of the power you have achieved."

My eyes harden and my expression turns icy. My eyes turn to him in answer as he lowers his head in acknowledgment.

"Apologies, sir."