As the sun began to rise, we prepared for the coming battle.
The scout reported that the enemy would arrive by sundown—plenty of time to prepare, yet the knowledge brought little comfort. The loss from before still haunted me. I had to keep my calm. As commander, I could not falter before my men.
I went outside to speak with them. Oser was there, distributing ammunition and tending to the weapons.
"How are you holding up?" I asked.
He looked at me, almost puzzled.
"Isn't that my line? How is your hand, Captain? Can you still fight?"
"I'll be fine. The sister healed me afterward. The cuts will mend on their own."
"Still," he said quietly, "take care of yourself. And don't blame yourself for what happened. No one could have guessed that outcome."
We both lowered our heads, taking in the gravity of it all. At his small reassurance, I nodded and moved on.
After some time, I arrived at the infirmary.
It was filled with soldiers from the previous battle. Some were missing limbs. Many were badly injured. Others clung to life by a single, fraying thread. The sisters worked tirelessly, moving from body to body, trying to save as many as they could.
I stood there, silent, staring at the damage we had suffered.
Where had I gone wrong?
Lost in thought, I was startled when a voice spoke beside me.
"Is something troubling you, Sir Kortwil?"
I turned to see the sister.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to disturb you while you're this busy."
"It's alright," she replied gently. "I've just completed the healing ritual. Now they must rest. Would you like to walk for a moment?"
I nodded.
We walked while the camp buzzed with preparation, and soon found ourselves facing the distant horizon. The sun was rising—beautiful, indifferent.
"Are you troubled by yesterday's battle?" she asked.
I hesitated.
"I… wonder if the outcome could have been different. If I hadn't hesitated."
"The Lord gives His hardest battles to His strongest soldiers," she said. "Under such circumstances, I don't believe many could have done what you did. And to the brave souls who fell, I am certain heaven welcomes them with open arms."
I listened in silence.
Then she spoke again.
"When I was a child, my village was attacked by strange creatures. Demons from hell, sent to devour us. I lost everyone that day. I watched as those beasts tore my parents apart, limb by limb, their flesh ripped away while they looked at me—grinning, as if mocking my fear."
I listened in silence.
"When they grew bored of the flesh, they turned to me. I could do nothing but tremble, praying not to be eaten alive. I begged the Almighty to save me."
She paused.
"And He listened. A paladin arrived, shielding me with his body. He slew them all alone, blade stained black with their blood. When it was over, he told me the Lord had heard my prayers—that my faith had guided his steps."
She looked at me then, her eyes steady.
"That day I learned something. Strength does not mean saving everyone, Sir Kortwil. Even the powerless have purpose. Standing tomorrow—when even the world itself questions your faith—that is strength. We need only follow His will."
There was devotion in her voice, but also comfort.
She took my hand.
"Your hand is scarred."
"It's nothing, sister. Thank you for stopping the bleeding."
Pain still lingered, faint but sharp, my hand twitched a little. She closed her eyes and began to pray, her hands glowing softly with golden light. The pain faded.
"I hope that eases it," she said, smiling. "Even if only a little."
"It does," I replied, smiling back. "Thank you."
We sat together, watching the sunrise, as the looming threat drew ever closer.
"I never asked your name, sister."
"Maria," she said. "Maria Liora, of the Sisterhood."
As the day of preparation ended and the sun sank once more, we knew the hour of battle had returned.
I looked around at my brothers and sisters—tense, silent. Many prayed, clutching their relics as if their lives depended on it.
I had one duty: to bring victory in the Lord's name.
There was no room for doubt. No one to blame. Faith was the only absolute.
We readied ourselves for the coming storm.
And when it broke, we would meet their filth with blade and fire.