The night stretched endlessly, unmarred by clouds, the earth bathed in the moon’s silver beams. Seizing the advantage, General Marlon Norse pressed forward, his army moving as a singular tide beneath the starlit sky. He felt his reputation would be at stake if he continued to delay as the thousand cavalry under Amnon had already gone ahead of them.
They only rested for four hours, and before the east brightened, they continued their journey.
By sunrise, the vast host of nine thousand five hundred soldiers and the five mbers of the elite Eagle Team arrived at the Northem encampnt before the town gates—a broad, wind-swept plain known as Gwamuros. They joined the rest of the awaiting forces.
General Odin and Bener stood at the forefront, their sharp eyes raking over the ranks of approaching soldiers, seeking one face—one person.
Then, Odin saw him.
His firstborn, Asael, lay unconscious atop a makeshift sled, his pallor deathly against the rough blankets swaddling his form. The breath hitched in Odin’s chest, his heart seizing in a vice-like grip of anguish. His son—his warrior—reduced to this frail, looking man. The world around him seed to contract, the battle-hardened general montarily frozen by the sight.
Beside the sled, Bener swallowed hard, his voice tight with worry as he turned to Kane. "How is my brother?"
Kane’s expression was grim but not without hope. "He had a high fever and was delirious through the night. We administered an herbal redy, and by so fortune, the fever broke. If no infection sets in, he should wake soon."
Lara, exhausted beyond words, nodded in agreent. Dark shadows frad her eyes, evidence of her near-sleepless journey. Two brief hours of rest had been all she could afford, yet she remained vigilant, tending to Asael as best she could.
Within the camp, a large tent had been transford into a temporary infirmary, where Asael was carefully transferred to a prepared cot. Lara followed close, carrying a blanket she had stuffed with soft kapok fibers, a small comfort to ease his suffering.
Lara stepped out of the tent, her breath catching as she collided with a solid wall of muscle. The warmth radiating from the towering figure sent a jolt of surprise through her, and she instinctively took a step back, her heart racing as she looked up to et the intense gaze of the man she saved a few days ago.
A pair of obsidian orbs, gazed down at her with such intensity that Lara failed to blink.
"You!" She blurted out.
Wait—why did he look so... furious?
Her eyes narrowed as she steadied herself, tilting her chin in defiance. "General Alaric?" she questioned, a flicker of concern cutting through her irritation. "Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be resting? Your wounds were severe—you shouldn’t even be standing, let alone moving about the camp!"
A smirk appeared on Alaric’s lips.
"Then, I will wait for you to check on ," Alaric said, his voice steady as he stepped into the farthest corner of the tent. Shadows danced around him, flickering in the muted light that filtered through the fabric walls of the tent.
He sank onto a makeshift bed, its fra creaking in protest under his weight. The air inside was thick with the scent of earth exposed to the sun for long ti.
Lara trailed behind him, her footsteps slow and asured. Fatigue tugged at her limbs, a dull heaviness that made each step feel like a significant effort. Yet, as a doctor, she felt an unyielding obligation to attend to her patient, no matter the weariness in her bones.
Alaric was wearing a tunic that draped comfortably around his fra. It seed likely that he had already removed his armor, before entering the tent.
anwhile, Lara ticulously washed her hands with clean water, then sterilized them with ethyl alcohol. She lifted the hem of his upper garnt, revealing his abdon—then she removed the layers of bandage that covered his wound.
Unbeknownst to Lara, Alaric’s gaze never left her face. He was staring at her as if he missed her.
’So he stopped wearing that ridiculous mustache.’ Alaric mused, a small smile tugged at his lips. However, without the mustache, she looked all the more feminine.
Lara carefully peeled back the remaining bandage, her brow furrowing as she caught sight of the raw, angry skin beneath.
It was clear that the bindings had been applied with a punishing tightness, leaving deep impressions that marred the flesh. A sense of concern washed over her as she realized how tightly he had been restrained.
"Did Felix bandage you like this?" She asked with a frown. She would definitely berate him for such an irresponsible bandaging.
"It is not Felix. It is your Master, Jethru." Alaric replied matter-of-factly.
"Master? Really?" Lara shot him a look full of doubt.
"He needed to bind like that so the wound would not reopen even if I exerted more effort," Alaric explained.
"How could my master not advise you that your wound is not healed yet and that you should rest? How could you be irresponsible?"
Alaric just humd and replied ’I don’t know’ indifferently.
Jethru, who happened to be sitting on the grass beside the infirmary tent, trembled.
"How did you get here?" Lara asked suspiciously. If not using the special passageway, it would take more than a week to reach Carles if you pass through Ourea.
"I hired your master as a guide."
"You an my master is here? Did he return to Galeya’s Throne?"
"Galeya’s Throne?" Alaric asked, curiously.
"Indeed, that is the na of the plateau," she replied, pausing for a mont as she carefully selected her next words.
But before she could say more, Alaric pointed to his wound. "Aren’t you going to clean that and apply dicine?"
Lara’s gaze drifted to his exposed stomach, where the lean muscles were distinct. She cleaned the wound and disinfected the surrounding area. Then, gently, she applied the ointnt, her fingers grazing his stomach.
Alaric’s face flushed. Even the tip of his ears reddened. The muscles in his stomach tensed.
"Does the wound still hurt?" Lara asked.
"No." Alaric’s reply ca so fast that Lara looked at him.
"The wound no longer hurt." It is your touch that is making uncomfortable.
Lara focused on the application of the ointnt.
"Did you use the secret passage hidden behind the cascading waterfall?" Curiosity danced in her expression as she sought the gaze of the man lying on a makeshift bed.
"Yes," Alaric replied, his tone light.
"Damn! How could my master be so irresponsible? It is a miracle that your wound did not reopen, considering the stress you placed on your body."
Then she looked at Alaric sharply, like a doctor would to a stubborn patient.
"How could you be so careless? Don’t you care about your body?"
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