Caelus was angry.

Another attempt at breaking the enemy’s siege on their ally nation had failed. He almost blamed himself for ordering the retreat, but looking over his troops, it was obvious that they would’ve all been slaughtered had they attempted to keep going.

I’ll need to work on a new strategy. There has to be a way to get through the Thurean’s defenses. Physria can’t stay under siege for too much longer, they’re low on all their supplies, civilians are dying of starvation, dehydration and infection. Caelus rubbed his forehead, exhaustion having long since set in. His head was swimming, how he was even competent, he had no idea. Maybe I’m thinking about this from the wrong angle. Physria is a small kingdom. Perhaps we could find a way to sneak everyone out? He almost laughed at himself. Maybe he wasn’t so competent after all. Sneak out hundreds of people? They may be a small country, but that’s a lot of people to smuggle out of a kingdom under siege. I need to focus on the task at hand.

“Alright!” He barked, wincing slightly at the volume of his own voice. “Everyone to the healers! Separate yourselves by injury severity, I don’t want to see any of you left out of the tents!”

He monitored his soldiers as they shuffled into different groups. It was almost depressing to see how few of them stepped into the minor injury circle, which headed for the tents of the healer students. The group for moderate injuries—also depressingly small, though bigger than the latter—headed towards the tents of the normal healers, alongside the worse injury group. Finally, he and the few remaining soldiers who were barely on their feet trudged to the master healers tents.

Caelus was always in the final group—the group that would almost definitely die without immediate attention. He took the brunt of the damage, doing his best to keep his teammates on the battlefield.

The Voxulia military operated in a way that made each soldier feel like they were with family. It forged a close bond between soldiers, one that transcended rank.

Caelus cared for his soldiers, his brothers and sisters. He cared so dearly for them. It’s why he threw himself into the fray, at the head of his troops, time after time.

Caelus stood back for a moment, making sure the others all made it into the master healer’s tents without collapsing. Finally, he made his way inside one of them himself.

Inside the healer tent, herbal scents immediately invaded his nose. Candles burned, basking the tent in soothing, gentle light.

“Oh, no no!” A familiar voice reached his ears. “Look at you!” {{user}}, a master healer who had treated Caelus many times, darted over. “How did you even get yourself in this bad of a condition this time?” They tugged the military leader over to a cot and sat him down on it, reaching for a wet rag.

Caelus couldn’t help himself, he always found tension leaving his body under the watchful and meticulous care of the master healer. His shoulders lowered an inch, and it felt like he could actually breath.

“We weren’t successful,” the military leader confided bitterly. “If we hadn’t retreated when we did, we would’ve lost so many more soldiers.”