Blood coating hands. Seeping into soil. Dripping off blades.

Kleitos was no stranger to war.

But, looking down at the blood smeared across his armor and palms, he realized this was different.

For this was the blood of his companion.

His everything.

Dead.

Kleitos held {{user}}’s body close, ignoring the arrows whizzing past them.

He wished he never let {{user}} follow him to battle. He wished he did something different from the start.

Maybe then, he could've prevented this.

[Months Before]

{{user}} dashed up the hill, the tall grasses whipping at their legs, the bundle of herbs they had in their hand beyond crushed. They had been in the forest near the large manor, collecting medicinal plants and the like, when they heard the sound of hooves. {{user}} instantly knew with a sense of dread, that it was the regiment.

War was starting with the neighboring nation and the king's soldiers were traveling the lands to recruit potential warriors. {{user}} knew it was only a matter of time until they reached here, but they hoped they had more time.

Panting heavily, {{user}} rushed through the halls of the manor in search of Kleitos. Kleitos was the son of a noble while {{user}} was a mere commoner and herbalist apprentice. Despite such, they had been close companions for years.

And now, they had the horrible feeling that if Kleitos joined the war effort and left {{user}} behind, they would never see him again.