—ACCUSATIONS—3

It sharpened slightly, its gleaming sharpness as intense as a flickering candle, yet still vibrant. Understanding her assessment, she decided to remain silent; she already had enough embarrassment for the day's argument. But she didn't dwell on it as she finished the last of her tea and headed for the door.

The constant cheers only served to vindicate the saint as she made her way down. She expected to see warriors' bodies mingled with the beasts', and for a moment she imagined that's what they were, but she only saw the red glow of the sunset mimicking red clothing, actually part of the monsters, and the stench, as foul as she remembered it, prevented her from forgetting her first days as a defender.

A greater surprise for their entourage was seeing the White Guard piling the creatures into small mounds—some dead, some dying, others finished off. The rain, though letting up, still obscured their vision, but warriors were arriving from the forest, allies or enemies; the fact was, they were coming.

"General, what happened?" Seb turned around, looking at the general to his right, one step behind him.

"Well, when I came out I saw they were eliminating the last ones." He didn't know whether to request a report or just assume, but he continued unperturbed. "It seems the defense was successful, my king." He glanced hurriedly at anyone in a position of authority who could answer their questions, which he understood he shared with the king.

—Had we underestimated this Praetorian? —Kio barely understood anything beyond what he saw.

"No matter how good a praetor he is," Sat said, exclaiming contemptuously and expecting support from the others. "His soldiers do the work in the end."

—Indeed. —I watch as the bodies are brought in from the woods and piled up with the rest. “Perhaps accepting them isn’t such a bad idea after all.”

A short time later, the storm subsided, revealing the place more clearly and, more importantly, showing how Runa's brilliance once again gave a clear view of the area.

"It doesn't seem like there have been many casualties." Min looked puzzled by those kinds of results.

—Although I do work. —A deacon indicated.

"Mainly from our side," Min added, aware that this conversation was being overheard by everyone despite the shouts of orders from the majority.

He saw the bodies being dumped outside and how some of the people beside him were bleeding from multiple wounds, especially numerous bites on their arms and legs, or a single bite covering their entire torso. He didn't know whether to call it a miracle or a tragedy. He instructed them to start helping while he put himself in the same position.

Runa watched in bewilderment as the warriors carried the wounded toward the slaves and tables that had been set up, instead of toward the orators and deacons who were going to those who had not yet been gathered. The behavior seemed so strange to her that for a moment she forgot it was abnormal, before Min pointed it out to her more clearly.

—My Saint, wouldn't it be advisable to tell them to bring the wounded closer to the speakers?

"I agree, but they are the praetor's warriors." Those few words gave meaning to everything that was happening, at least in his mind. "Perhaps he already considers them dead; meet with those in charge so they don't rush a funeral ceremony; they can still be saved."

—At your service, my Saint.

In their quick walk, they found that the sunset was beginning to fade into a reddish purple, as they gathered again to deal with the praetor, and he managed to overhear part of the perplexing conversation.

—The forest salamanders weren't that big last time.

Min heard the archer, who quickly moved his friend's body, half-eaten by the salamander and disfigured by the fall. Their swift advance, with a slim hope of saving him, made them realize how much more widespread the lamentations were among the archers and orators.

An unsettling silence fell over the White Guard troops, as if that battle were nothing more than an everyday occurrence, an inevitable consequence, and perhaps they had reasons for it, because at the table they barely noticed a dozen whimpering in pain and those who arrived had more or less the same problem.

—Greetings, warriors of the White Guard, the Saint sends me to help you—he announced in his usual conciliatory tone that he was going to deal with people.

"It's about time. Where did they lose you, you idiot?" she demanded abruptly, handing him a tray of bandages. "Those further back are worse off; make sure you disinfect before bandaging."

—Excuse me? —He didn't even know what it was and the snatching of the tray made him hesitate.

—You're a healer and you don't even know that; go see what the rest want for the treatment of these people and don't bother us anymore here.

More surprised than annoyed, he raised the light from his hand, and flashes of white brilliance erupted all around, beginning to heal the wounds of everyone nearby. When he finally sensed the damage was gone, he turned back to the man in front of him who bore the healer's symbol.

"I don't think I explained myself well..." The blow made him fall to the ground even faster than he was regaining his composure at that moment.

"Where the hell were you, you idiot?" He barely contained his anger. "If you had arrived when the battle started, we wouldn't have had to go through all this trouble."

Almost everyone got up to go and work on the bodies, better containing their hatred because of the gratitude they felt for the High Archbishop; a few thanked him reluctantly, while others arrived with more wounded people, placing a couple of bandaged corpses on the floor on the right.

—Hurry up, we need to heal the rest!

Min rose, even more bewildered than before, and continued healing. He had already expended a great deal of energy treating everyone at once, and soon he felt his light weakening. He began treating wounds individually, while the slaves cleaned wounds or accommodated more arriving patients. They also pointed out critical areas to him, with the next pair arriving and two others carrying more into the tent.

Outside, the screams began to increase, so that he recognized three voices in particular, but he did not leave his work; the wounded were the priority and, the more that arrived, the more the groans increased, giving him little time to treat them before the slaves arrived to treat them and caused better contained screams or grunts of pain, varying in the level of wounds or the areas of them.

—0—Minutes before—0—

Seb and Runa were arriving at the center where Lucius was giving the last shouts of orders and attending to some slaves who whispered things to him or received orders with the praetor's hand.

It wasn't until a couple spotted their arrival and pointed them out that they stopped talking, and Lucius glared angrily at the arriving group.

"He doesn't seem very happy." The deacon carefully suppressed the fear in his mind.

"Well, if I had decided who to follow, I would have had the troops under my command." Cri grew uneasy seeing slaves and not soldiers around; she was afraid seeing the roles reversed.

"Their troops remain just as vigorous." Sat watched the few armed men around him and how orders were being relayed to them by the slaves. "Judging by how they're working, I'd consider the matter closed."

"I agree." Kio had no opinion left to give, only longing to return home and wash away the stench.

Several warriors in white, a couple of archers, and more slaves gathered, following the praetor's lead, while wearing almost the same expression of barely contained fury.

The two retinues, on the other hand, seemed worried; the more prideful among them expected an apology or at least an admission of the error of not following custom, while the leaders of both organizations struggled to understand the anger of their new allies, feeling it unjustified, yet still maintaining an impassive expression. In the distance, the black-scaled warrior watched as the group surrounded the figures in white, which he assumed had shimmering scales.

“Heads”—He raised the stone blade and hid the three of their bodies, even with the movement, and felt a pang of fear when Lucius looked back at him—. “Danger”—He retreated hastily, unaware of the illusion.

During the short time that their arrival lasted, a conclusion was reached. While the bodies were being gathered and the batteries were being placed without problems, the attention of the warriors was shown when finally the defense troops, the followers of the church, were behind the king and Santa, while Lucius simply waited for them with his shieldmaiden and who was clearly a combat slave very well endowed with muscles and with a clear inability to see, a surprise that displeased some, especially seeing that he only had a few wounds and more the soon arrival of many more warriors.

"What is the excuse for your cowardice, King and Saint?" I will not allow your intentions to be confused in the slightest; I exude as much contempt as a snake exudes venom. "If your answer is not satisfactory, I have the authority to execute you right here." The words had the desired effect, and the nobles, like deacons, began to feel a deep rage reflected on their faces.

—What does Pretorian Lucius mean? —The saint finally understood the most important aspect of her actions and regretted having let herself be carried away by the moment.

"The law is clear, and so are Alba's commands." Aware of his advantage and the moment, he didn't hesitate for a second to bring up the main topic and part of Alfonso's plan. "Whoever leads the kingdom and whoever leads the temple must accompany the Praetorian in the first battle." The twisted perspective Alfonso had described turned out to be truer than he cared to admit, and he was now witnessing it firsthand. "Now answer me."

"We're not cowards, what makes you say that!" Cri exploded in anger upon hearing such an accusation.

—Cri, I didn't give you permission to speak.

Seb momentarily lost his train of thought and, seeing how Runa's smile faded, felt his spirits lift a little, considering the best way to portray Lucius as blind, and quickly dismissed those thoughts from his mind, more because of Cri's impertinence than anything else.

—But, my king— She stopped herself when she saw Sebastian getting angry.

—Yes, we were here the whole time. —Miri, slightly behind Runa, shared the anger, indignant that voices were being raised against the Saint.

—Miri, leave. —Runa pondered how to make up for her mistake, as the dark blue of the sky began to dominate all around.

—But my Sa… —The light formed an arc that held her mouth and head and forced her to turn around.

"I apologize for my follower; she's not used to the battlefield." Runa quickly justified her, noticing how the praetor's anger seemed ready to spill over onto both of their followers.

—He has no wounds and no blood on his cloak, he did not participate in the battle and they have avoided my question for the third time, Santa; I must consider that he is revealing himself.

—Praetorian, the Saint… —His lack of control was remedied by the saint who raised her hand, clearly asking him to calm down.

"I apologize, Praetorian, we were deliberating which of the two sides should cede their troops to you," Kio interrupted hurriedly, trying to calm things down. "Since you didn't follow the tradition of these lands."

—Tradition dictates that, before Alba's departure, the Praetorian must announce which force will back him up. —I remove the bar from the monster, letting its head roll to the ground, and descend to its level, pointing to the sky. —Alba hasn't said goodbye yet.

—Praetorian, understand that the decision had to be made upon arrival. —Sebastian intervened, trying to justify his actions at the time, before hearing the creaking again.

He pierced the head with the right bar, just behind the jaw, and swung the skull as he approached them.

The guards, meanwhile, were starting to get nervous as they noticed the weapons were not being holstered, and so they moved to the sides to prevent any attempt at insurgency they might sense from the new reinforcements.

"That was never specified in the illuminated word, nor in the treaty of the kings; much less was that information given to me when we met." Soon the reptilian head on the bar to his left moved in front of him and ended up resting on his shoulder, spattering blood onto the road.

"They had the entire parade to report on." Alfonso saw an opportunity to sow discord within the group and seized it, sensing the anger of the two factions ahead. "But since they're trying to overstep his authority, I must question it." Interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, he looked at Artion.

"Shut up, Alfonso." Artion thought he'd avoided further trouble by silencing him. "We weren't given permission to speak." He couldn't see, but he was sure Alfonso was shrugging.

Finally, the tension turned into outright hostility, and with it, everyone's question: who would break the silence? A thought only interrupted by the sudden movement.

The head, being placed back on the floor, made a viscous sound as the tongue moved saliva and blood compressed in the mouth and passed through the teeth outwards, highlighted by the absence of rain in the place, except for some drips around.

"Now I understand why my predecessors died so young." I masked my disappointment with simple indifference. "He had to deal with incompetents." I twisted the hilt of my weapon, barely containing my anger.

The teeth crunched as they rose slightly, before returning to their place and turning the rest of the head between the other row of teeth, while the head was worn down slightly by the muddy soil and stones scraping the scales, forming grooves outwards with every centimeter it turned.

"What proof do you have for your accusation?" Cri struggled to contain his fury, but since neither of the representatives dared to speak, he hoped he wouldn't be arrested.

“I gave the signal to fire arrows, and the archers didn’t attack. The Speakers and Deacons were supposed to protect the wall, but they weren’t there and prioritized the archers above, instead of the many here who clearly suffered worse injuries.” He gestured with the staff to his left. “From what I can see, you didn’t even participate in defending the walls.” He relaxed and looked at them, judging whether it was worth sparing their execution at that moment. “You fled like rats.”

"What right does he have to compare us to such an animal?" He realized too late that his hand had gone to the gun and tried to regain his composure, while straightening his hunched posture.

—The right of courage, of those who prefer to fight instead of the sweet comforts of dessert and a quiet place, what can they be, if not rats? —He pointed to the red clothes with traces of white icing that contrasted sharply.

Everyone felt that he had gone too far, even his teammates, except for Alfonzo, perhaps the only one amused by the situation despite the secondhand embarrassment, but it wasn't long before a bow fell to the ground on the North side, next to the group.

"That's right, they're rats eating cake while we defend the walls." An archer near the top of the wall tower exclaimed with all the force he could muster, so far away that no one on top of the walls could quite hear him, but the few who did could see the former praetor's green robes.

—Yes, where were you when all this started? —Another hooded figure on the stairs began to descend with heavy steps, barely concealing his anger.

—Now you understand a little more about what my life is like—the Slave said with fiery contempt, as she filled the box with arrows.

"We kill ourselves to keep them safe, and they can't even give proper orders!" The least disciplined of the archers finally exploded in fury, realizing he was being put in the position of a slave. "What good are they if they can't even lead?" He threw down the sword and crown symbol, typical of the Runa guard.

"We want a real general!" The most dissatisfied with his position finally voiced his thoughts, ignoring all the current general's past achievements. "I've spent my whole life waiting to defend Runa, and all they do is leave me as a messenger to see this when I arrive!"

"General, general, general, general, general!" they all demanded in an incoherent chorus without a shred of pity; the more they joined in the accusation or demand, it depended on the point of view.

With the archers in revolt and the few guards standing alongside the dismayed nobility, unfavorable thoughts gripped almost everyone present. The groups still controlling the beasts muttered curses under their breath, many already prepared for the scene and others simply surrendering to the fervor of the moment, especially since it released them from a tension of which they were unaware.

The question of how they found out about his snack had been answered a while ago, but from there to the response to the accusations, there were almost no words left, while the general tried to maintain silence around him.

"I've made my decision; from this moment on, both of you will surrender your forces to me, without restrictions." Surprised by how fleeting loyalties are in that place, I remain impassive.

"As you wish, Praetorian." The saint realized her mistake and yielded instantly, while bestowing her blessing. "I will rectify my error if you allow me."

"Go to your temple. From the order, the Orators, Deacons, and all others prepared to serve in battle must come." Calm and already disappointed, he simply watched the purple of the sky change to a dark blue and the brilliance of the stars resonate more strongly.

There was not enough time to process what had happened, while the deacons spread out to heal the people, aware that there would be many problems and proclaiming to themselves at what point their position had been reduced to mere servants who had to help without any words in between.

—As you wish. —I returned calmly, ignoring the mistake in the name I had spoken.

"This is absurd, there has never been a precedent like this." Sebastian remained incredulous, as he watched Lucius walk towards another group of beasts.

"It matters; my praetor's duty is to the people he swore to defend, not his own interests." Alfonso was arrested again by his fencing master.

"I told you they wouldn't be any different." He interrupted, wondering how much influence he really had over the praetor, while shaking his head.

"I have hope that there will be someone different in the future." He ended the conversation, ignoring the fundamental objections of the various nobles, who were barely containing themselves.

—Damn slave… —I draw my weapon, ready to deliver an exemplary punishment.

Interrupted by the loud impact, a little ahead of him, he covered himself, imagining some archer's body falling, he saw the hammer with the bloody head spattering his clothes and felt his anger increase again.

The makeshift hammer struck the floor and shattered the creature's jaw, causing it to spin sinisterly. When it was brought back to its feet, it hung by its meager tongue to the right before being decapitated again by its teeth. Everyone was astonished by Lucius's ease of movement and how he remained undetected, despite the stark contrast of his armor against the night sky.

—What if he tries to rebel? King. —Very aware of how things would end if they continued talking to Alfonso, he decided to prevent further problems.

"We're leaving," the King ordered.