A Soldier's Life

Chapter 60: Recovery



Chapter 60: Recovery

Chapter 60: Recovery

Chapter 60

My legs were unsteady for a few steps, and my boots were still damp from wearing them through the reservoir. All I wanted to do was sleep, but as the army and small encampments of legion companies waking and packing. I feared I would not have that opportunity to rest. If it was possible, our marching block was more haggard than when we entered the camp, but we still followed Delmar and a severely limping Adrian to our destination. Delmar seemed to be scanning the flags of the legion companies, looking for something.

I asked Brutus, “Are all these flags for different mage companies? Do we have a flag?”

Brutus looked up and studied a few flags, “Most are mage companies. You can tell if a flag has a solid background. If there is a horizontal stripe in the background, it is a duke’s legionare company with no mage. Dukes can not command mages, and they need to pay the Emperor a tax for legionaries under their command. Legion units without a duke or mage in charge do not have flags. I assume Castile has a flag, but I do not know what it is.”

Felix was in the back row of the marching block and answered tiredly, “Castile has a black flag with an orange bull on it. I do not know if she chose it or inherited it. I have not seen the flag since we marched in the New Year parade in the capital a few years back.”

Delmar found what he was seeking and increased his pace to a gray flag with a red serpent on it. Outside the tent entrance, he announced himself to two legionaries in pristine leather armor. “Mage Larita, Mage Castile’s company seeks your healing skills. Please grant us your favor!” His tone was very respectful, and an older woman with mostly gray hair in blue robes exited the tent with a steaming cup in her hand.

She looked over our group and sighed, “Very well. Strip to your undergarments before entering my tent.” She turned to one of her legion guards, “Do we have orders for moving out yet?”

He responded sharply, “No orders yet. The army will advance after the midday meal. I expect us to follow.”

The old mage turned to Delmar, “We have time then, Delmar. You may enter and send in your men in threes. No armor or filthy clothes.” She wrinkled her nose, turned, and went inside the tent. Delmar relaxed visibly.

He turned to us and spoke loudly, “We are fortunate! The best healer in the legion is going to see to our ailments. Everyone strip and keep as much of your body stink out of her tent as possible!”

We all stripped, and as I took off my boots, some of my calloused skin went with it. My heels were bleeding freely, and I did not feel the sting until the air hit the exposed flesh. My feet were not the only ones in dire need of attention. Everyone had gotten their feet wet getting through the reservoir, and the hard-earned callouses were puckered with water and peeling away from everyone.

The first few men were stripping to just their boxers, so I copied them. Adrian had protested being one of the first men in, but Delmar yelled at him, and he went in with the first group. Looking around at our remaining company, we were filthy, and about half had unhealed upper body wounds.

Brutus fell on the grass and laid back. Delmar snapped, “You fall asleep, Brutus, and we will not wake you when your turn comes.”

I sat cross-legged next to him to wait. Brutus had his eyes closed as he spoke, “This is the largest benefit to being in the legion, Eryk—the healing. The regular army might see a magic healer in their infirmary who was looking to practice their craft, but that would be it. As a legionnaire, you can walk into any large city and find magical healing without paying for it.”

I nodded, and it made sense why people would volunteer or fight to be in the legion over the army. I looked down the row of tents, “If all the solid background flags were mages, how come we were defending Macha with just three? There must be been twenty mage company flags in the camp,” I asked.

Brutus responded sleepily, “More. Probably close to thirty in the entire camp. Do not ask me why. They never asked for my advice.” He chuckled at the absurdity of a Duke asking his advice.

Adrian came out walking stiffly and testing his healed ankle. Lysander was behind him. Delmar turned, “Lysander, you are with me. Let us find a legion supply wagon and get new underclothes and socks for everyone.” Lysander did not look thrilled but nodded and followed him. Brutus was snoring in the grass. I let him sleep until we were the last two remaining and kicked him awake to enter.

The tent had three tables in the center, a comfy bed along one side, and a modest dining table. An array of fruits, breads, and sliced meats was on the table. The legionnaire inside seemed to be preparing another teapot for the Mage Larita. I bowed and thanked her, “Mage Larita, thank you for healing us and us company. It is an honor to be healed by the best mage in the legion.”

The older woman chuckled softly, “Best mage! I am as close to the best healer as I am to being a virgin. Delmar was just buttering me up to do my best. No fear, boy, I may not be the best, but I am better than most. Up on the table and lay down so I can assess you.”

The air was actually dry and not humid for once. The sun was clear, and the company was lounging bare-chested on the grass, happy to be out of armor. The farmer did come out once to talk with Adrian, who looked like he handed him a few coins. Lirkin handed out food as fast as he could prepare it on the meal wagon. It was jarring how fast our fortunes had changed.

I soon fell asleep in the grass. Konstantin kicked me awake well into the afternoon. My pale chest had burned slightly from the sun. “Get up, get dressed; Adrian and Delmar are talking to the company.”

My clothes had mostly dried, and I put on some new socks. The boots were still damp but drier than before. As everyone circled around Delmar and Adrian, we were anxious to hear the fate of Castile and ourselves.

Adrian looked gaunt in his face but was completely healed. He had been in too rough of shape to do much leading, but now he looked revitalized. He spoke clearly to our small group, “Castile is going to be transported to Caranhagan. From there, she is going to be portaled back to the capital, Telha. Duchess Veronica has called for a Ducal Tribunal into her actions.”

Everyone was quiet. Delmar joined, “We are going with her. Duke Octavian is as well with his fifty legionaries to guard the prisoner. We need to make sure Castile does not meet with an accident under the Duke’s care.”

Lucien, our horse master, asked, “What happens when we reach the capital?”

Adrian answered, “We will wait in the Legion Hall. The Emperor will name the other two Dukes to sit with Duchess Veronica in the Tribunal. Some of us may be called a witness before a Truthseeker.”

“You know Duke Octavian is going to get himself on the Tribunal. Who will be the third?” asked Kolm.

Adrian made a pained face, “I guess we will see if the Emperor favors his son or a peasant mage.”

Delmar added, “Get some rest. Octavian’s company is mounted, and I do not expect them to wait on us. It is eighty miles to Caranhagan. It would not surprise me if they outpaced us and did not wait at the portal for our arrival.”

“Are we going to have to do an eighty-mile jog?” Wylie announced, exasperated.

Adrian snapped, “If I told you to do an eight-hundred-mile run, you would do it with a smile on your face!”

Delmar calmed things, “Lirkin is working with the farmer to get us water and food for the long march. That road,” he pointed behind us, “is the road they will travel past. As soon as we see their horses, we will fall in.”

“Why don’t we start now?” Blaze asked.

Konstantin barked, “Because Duke Octavian would probably have us executed for desertion. He can not do anything about us following our mage commander.”

We all strapped our armor on so we could mobilize quickly. This time, I settled under the shade of a small tree and healed my sunburn under my armor. I rested my head on my pack and drifted off.

It was late evening when Brutus woke me, “News from camp. Duke Octavian is breaking camp. We are to assemble near the road.”

We were soon formed into ranks and waiting. It was nearly dark when a mounted unit came from the mostly dismantled army camp. The fifty legionaries riding all had metal legion armor instead of the leather we wore. At the front of the group was the black-haired man who met Castile. I assumed that was Octavian. He looked fairly young to be the Emperor’s son. The Emperor was hundreds of years old. Guess with magic, aging was not a concern.

Castile was riding in the middle of the group like she was a danger to escape. The Duke sneered at us as he pranced by, and Castile couldn’t hide a small smirk at seeing us. We fell in behind the calvary. This was going to be a long march.


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