A reluctant West made his way past the cluster of Blue Hearts gathered outside the medical tent reserved for Captain Odessa. Thick incense drifted from beneath the canvas flaps, its heavy scent masking the lingering smell of blood. Nearby, Turik stood among the men, holding court as laughter and conversation carried through the camp.
"Are you alright?" Turik asked.
"I'm fine," West replied.
Turik gave him a firm pat on the shoulders. "Hey. No one has died yet. Let's make the best of the situation." The encouragement sounded genuine, though West suspected it was just as much for Turik's own benefit.
Without another word, West pushed through the tent flap.
The air inside was warmer, the incense stronger. Odessa reclined across the cot without a hint of modesty, dried blood and deepening bruises obscuring much of the intricate Volta markings woven across her skin. At the sound of his footsteps, she lazily reached for a bloodstained cloth and draped it across her hips more out of courtesy than embarrassment, leaving the rest of herself uncovered. Resting beside her on the bedding, polished until its dark surface gleamed, lay the Red Dragon.
"West." A slow smile spread across her face as her head swayed ever so slightly.
"Odessa." West gave her a quick nod.
"Come have a drink with me." She lifted a bottle of brown rum, nearly untouched, and extended it toward him.
"I'm just here to treat your wounds," West said seriously.
The bottle remained suspended between them. Odessa answered only with a knowing half-smile, patient enough to let the silence do the persuading.
West released a quiet sigh and accepted it.
"We did it, West. We did it!" A soft laugh escaped her lips, warm with drink and victory.
His eyes drifted to the Red Dragon resting beside her on the bed.
"We have it all." Her gaze followed his before returning to him, brighter than before.
West took a measured pull from the bottle, more to satisfy her than himself. He returned it to her waiting hand, then reached for a clean rag resting beside a bowl of warm tinctured water. After soaking the cloth, he began with her forearms, carefully wiping away the dried blood from every cut and scrape. His movements remained steady and focused, fixed on the work despite the woman watching him with quiet amusement from only inches away. Odessa smiled as West worked his way from her forearms to her shoulders, his attention fixed on every scrape and bruise instead of the woman wearing them.
"Have you ever been with a woman, West?" she asked, her voice light with amusement. "Or are you one of those castrated slaves?" Her hand drifted toward his groin with lazy confidence.
West recoiled before she could reach him, nearly stumbling over himself.
"Do not be shy. Many slaves are.” She reclaimed the bottle with a grin and took a slow drink, locking eyes as she gulped down the rum.
"I... you can take my word. I am not." The words came out more anxiously than he intended.
Odessa studied him for a long moment, the smile never quite leaving her face.
"Smoli was a eunuch. My father made sure every one of his slaves was cut. It is what they do in the southern regions." She tilted her head carefully, easing the stiffness from her neck. "They call it ‘tradition’."
West hesitated before stepping close again, dipping the rag into the warm tincture. "Well... I'm sorry for Smoli, but I don't think Master Omni ever even considered that for me." He kept enough distance to work comfortably without giving Odessa another opportunity to test him.
"So then what's the matter, babe?" She leaned toward him, the movement causing the bottle to sway loosely in one hand while the rest of her shifted with it. "Is it the face?" A crooked smile tugged at her lips as she gestured toward the bruises covering it.
West blinked, caught off guard before forcing his attention back to the cuts along her shoulder. Odessa watched him for another heartbeat before casually pulling the stained cloth higher across her waist, though it did little to conceal her.
"You're in such a serious mood today. Is it him?" she teased.
West straightened slightly before returning to his work. "No. You're just notmy type."
"How so?" She lifted the bottle for another drink, never taking her eyes off him.
"You're kind of old," West said without hesitation.
A warm laugh escaped her.
West busied himself wiping away the grime and dried blood clinging to her skin, grateful for something to occupy his hands besides the conversation.
"I was born twenty-nine winters ago." Odessa extended the bottle toward him. "Next winter, I will have outlived my mother." Once he accepted it, she rested back against the cot. "How about you?"
West took a measured drink before answering. "I'm not sure. I was an orphan before meeting Master Omni. All the older children used to say I came from the west." He handed the bottle back, and for the first time since entering the tent, their exchange felt almost routine, as though tending her wounds and sharing her drink had quietly settled into an unexpected rhythm.
"What a blessing for a slave to fall into the hands of a man with such wisdom." Odessa took a longer pull from the bottle. Less than half remained when she nudged it gently against West's shoulder in offering.
He shook his head. "It certainly was a blessing. I learned more from him than I could ever repay."
"My mother spoke very fondly of Lord Omni." Odessa cradled the bottle in both hands before taking another drink. "I remember it well. She always said he was a mean man, but a fair one." She said as she stared softly at West, handing over the bottle again.
"He was respected everywhere we traveled." West finally accepted the bottle, taking only a small drink before handing it back. " I wouldn't so much as call him mean. Stubborn fits him more."
A faint smile touched Odessa's bruised lips. "Stubborness is how one is perceived when they refuse to yield their truths for another's reality."
West couldn't help smiling. "He'd probably agree with you." He dipped another clean rag into the warm tincture before placing it within her reach. "You can clean up the smaller cuts. I need both hands for the deeper one."
Odessa leaned back against the cot, bottle resting loosely against her stomach. "Did Lord Omni ever teach you the histories of the North?"
"All the time. The Gods, The Voltas, Even the Cobalt Crown. All of it." West responded.
"And the Promise?" Her voice softened until it was nearly swallowed by the incense curling through the tent.
"And the Promise." West carefully peeled away the temporary dressing covering the gash across her side. His brow furrowed. "That's a bad one."
"I haven't felt this much since the last time I fought my father." Odessa drank again before letting out a satisfied breath. "“It only makes my victory all the more satisfying, look at me” she grinned, despite the swelling all over face. “Her glory is mine”. She lifted her arms triumphantly.
"Youneed to sit still," West said sternly.
"We've sat still for months." Fire flickered behind Odessa's swollen eyes as she reached over and lightly caught a lock of his hair between her fingers. "It's time we started moving." She released him with the gentlest push. "If you know our history, then you already know where this road leads... and where it ends."
West paused, meeting her gaze instead of the wound.
"I will restore the Ancient Order and fulfill Queen Rah-Kel's final Promise."
Only after the words settled between them did Odessa ease herself back against the cot, releasing a long, weary breath.
"Well that's quite the task," West said as he was trying to remain focused on his work.
"Well I'm quite the woman," Odessa responded confidently.
A quiet laugh escaped West despite himself as he drew the stitching through her skin. "You and Master Omni would have really gotten on well."
"Because his vision was pure and clear." Odessa watched West as he continued.
West continued stitching in silence. After a while, he glanced toward the Red Dragon.
"For a moment... I thought you were going to kill Tyrus. We all did.” Odessa slowly swirled the remaining rum inside the bottle. “We would've let you. And we still will."
"I'd rather not talk about him." The frustration in West's voice was enough to make her study him more carefully.
"Do you want me to kill him?" Odessa teased him.
West stopped sewing altogether. He rested the needle and cloth beside the bowl before looking directly at her. "I'm actually more curious why you didn't."
Odessa let the silence linger before answering. "We made a deal." Her fingers drifted toward the Red Dragon's hilt beside her. "I got the Dragon. You got the man." She traced the polished steel absentmindedly.
"Smoli promised you that we would not kill him, and I promised Smoli I would honor our deal." Her narrowed eyes settled back on West. "But now I have seen the hands of Tyrus myself, and the honor that he bestowed on Smoli that day, It was no fluke." She spoke slowly, weighing every word.
Another quiet pause.
"It was no fluke." She held his gaze. "I'll release Tyrus to you... If that's what you want."
West looked away before picking up the needle once more. "I don't care."
The words sounded hollow even to him.
"I won't condemn him to death, and I won't be the one to set him free either. Not on my word." He tightened another stitch. "You do whatever you want with him. I don't want to know." His brows furrowed as the words escaped him.
Odessa watched him work in silence. "If you deliver him to me," she said at last, "he owes me blood. He owes me lives and I owe him a punishment." Her voice remained calm, almost gentle. "And despite how indifferent you pretend to be today... You aren't exempt from the guilt that will find you tomorrow.."
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She reached beside the cot, uncorked a fresh bottle, and held it toward him. "You first."
West didn't even look up. He tied off the final stitch, trimmed the thread, and returned his attention to the wound.
Odessa shrugged lightly and drank alone, the quiet between them settling heavier than either of their words.
"I'm leaving soon, Odessa." West set the last of his supplies back into the basin before rising from the stool.
"Oh?" Odessa settled deeper into the cot, watching him through heavy, drink-softened eyes. "And where will you go?"
"Westward." There wasn't a trace of hesitation in his answer. "Away from all of this."
A quiet laugh escaped her. "And what of helping rebuild Minht? What of staying through the summer and earning a little more pay?" Her tone was playful, but West couldn't tell how much of it was jest.
He searched for an answer and found none.
"Do not rush." Odessa reached out and caught his forearm. "Sit with me."
"I should really let you get some rest." He made another attempt to stand.
"Sit…!" The warmth vanished from her voice. "... with me." Even drunk, Odessa carried the same command that had sent armies marching. West slowly lowered himself back onto the stool.
Satisfied, she relaxed against the bedding once more. "I will not protest your decision. You've served us well, and before you leave, I'll make certain you are paid well." Her eyes drifted toward the tent ceiling as though seeing something far beyond the canvas. "But understand this, West. The cruelty of men and the cynicism of the Gods are not confined to the North. You'll find them in the South, the East, and even in the West."
She looked back at him. "So wherever you find yourself, remember this. Hershield, and now her sword, will stand between you and those men would do you harm."
A faint smile found its way onto West's face. "And what exactly does that mean?"
Odessa returned the smile, though hers carried far more certainty. "A Blue Heart can be found anywhere there is a blue heart."
West couldn't help but smile politely at the answer. Whether it was wisdom, the rum, or both speaking through her, he wasn't entirely sure.
Odessa extended her hand. "You are welcome among us for as long as you choose to stay. And when you decide to leave, all I ask is that you say goodbye."
West clasped her hand.
"I'll take care of the Tyrus situation. If you wish to see him one last time, you may." She continued as she steadied herself upward.
The handshake lingered only a moment before they released one another.
"Then it's decided!" Odessa settled back into the cot, exhaustion finally overtaking the adrenaline. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. There's still work to be done."
West gathered the remainder of his supplies and turned toward the tent flap. "Thank you, Odessa."
He had nearly stepped outside when her voice stopped him once more.
"Oh... and West," Odessa called out.
He glanced back over his shoulder.
"If you would, send Broc to me." She said with the faintest wave of her hand.
"I'll find him," West answered.
He gave Odessa a final nod before stepping out into the evening air. The scent of incense quickly gave way to woodsmoke and the familiar sounds of camp. Turik was still lingering outside the tent, pretending not to wait. The moment he saw West emerge, he pushed himself away from a nearby post.
"She wants to see Broc," West said without slowing down his pace.
Turik's eyebrows climbed. "Broc?" A gleeful grin spread across his face almost instantly. "Well... let's go find him."
The two of them made their way across the bustling courtyard, weaving between Blue Hearts carrying supplies, tending cookfires, and celebrating the day's victory.
"He's going to lose his mind!" Turik chuckled to himself. "Poor guy's been yearning for this."
West couldn't help smiling. "She seemed to be in a good mood."
"She better be." Turik laughed. "We nearly got ourselves killed bringing her the Dragon."
After searching through several clusters of celebrating soldiers, they finally spotted Broc sitting beneath the garden trees with a handful of his men, a bottle of liquor making its way around the circle.
Broc looked up as they approached.
"Turik! West!" He greeted each of them with a nod.
Turik folded his arms, unable to suppress the grin tugging at his face. "You're up."
Broc frowned. "Up for what?"
"The Captain…wants to see you," Turik said as he struggled to keep himself dignified in front of the others.
For the briefest moment, Broc's composure cracked. His eyes widened before he quickly tried to recover. "Is... it true?" he asked, looking past Turik toward West.
"She asked me to send for you," West said as he nodded his head.
That was all the confirmation Broc needed.
"Oh." He immediately set the bottle aside and stood, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt as though he'd only just remembered he was wearing it. "Right…!" He cleared his throat, trying and failing to sound casual. "I'm sure she just wants an update on the troops."
His hands continued fussing with his clothes. "How…do I look?"
Turik stepped forward and rested a reassuring hand on Broc's shoulder. "You're going to be fine." His smile softened. "Today's a good day! You're still her champion... and soon you'll be the man carrying the Red Dragon!"
Broc nodded, though the excitement on his face made it obvious he had barely heard the last half of the sentence. He excused himself from the men gathered around the drinks and started off at a brisk pace.
"Hold on." Turik called after him.
Broc stopped and turned.
"Go splash some water on your face first." Turik looked him over with exaggerated scrutiny. "Maybe run a little oil through your hair while you're at it."
Broc rolled his eyes, but the grin he fought to hide gave him away. Without another word, he hurried off toward the barracks, no longer able to disguise his anticipation as West and Turik watched him disappear into the crowd.
"He tried to fool me." West smiled to himself. "He kept insisting he was over her."
"He’s the only fool." Turik chuckled as they followed Broc at an unhurried pace through the garden, watching him disappear farther ahead.
For a while, they simply walked, enjoying the rare ease that had settled over camp after the battle.
"So..." Turik glanced sideways at West. "How does she look?"
West thought for a moment. "Her face took quite a beating." He paused just long enough for Turik to think that was the end of the answer. "But…the rest of her looks incredible!"
Turik barked out a laugh before immediately swatting the back of his hand against West's injured ribs. "Have some respect! That's your captain."
West doubled over with a pained grin, clutching his side. "She's going to be alright. She just needs rest... and someone to keep an eye out for infection."
"That's good news." The laughter faded from Turik's face. "Did she say what she's planning to do with the prisoner?"
West rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm…not sure what she'll do."
Turik nodded slowly. "She told me she was going to let you kill him."
"Well... that's not..." West's words faltered before he quietly shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it…"
Turik's expression softened almost immediately. "Sorry. I didn't realize it was still... sensitive." He scratched awkwardly at the side of his beard. "I figured… I mean… After you slapped him..." The sentence died before it ever found an ending. "You can tell me another time." He offered West a small smile. "Summer's still young."
West released a long breath. "I'm leaving soon, Turik."
The words landed harder than either of them expected.
"I can't stay here anymore." West slowed down as his gaze met the ground.
Turik stopped walking, standing next to him. "What…?" His confusion quickly turned into disbelief. "You can't leave me..." He caught himself almost immediately. "I mean... us…! You can't leave us…!"
"I'm sorry." West managed a smile that never quite reached his eyes. "I kept telling myself I'd get used to all of this. That eventually I'd become the kind of man this place needs." He looked out across the camp instead of at Turik. "I don't think I can."
Turik stepped closer. "If it's the field work, I can move you inside the walls. You could help with supplies…! Or the stables!" Ideas spilled from him as quickly as he could think of them. "Come on, West. We can figure something out. Can’t we…?"
"It's not the work." West shook his head. "It's... everything else."
Turik frowned. "The men…?"
When West didn't answer, another thought crossed his mind.
"Is it…Loredo?" His jaw tightened. "I can make sure that Azurian slug gets what's coming to him!"
West rested a hand on Turik's shoulder before the frustration could grow any further. "It'll be alright." His voice was calm, almost reassuring. "You'll manage just fine without me."
Turik opened his mouth, but no words came.
He simply stared at West, blinking absently as one impossible thought chased another through his mind, each searching for a solution to what had suddenly become the biggest problem he could imagine.
West and Turik made their way back toward Odessa's tent, only to find a small crowd already gathering outside. Before either of them reached the entrance, Broc's voice erupted from within.
Moments later, the tent flap was thrown aside, and Broc stormed into the courtyard. His eyes burned with a fury neither of them had seen before.
Without slowing, he reached a nearby table where several Blue Hearts were gathered over a game of cards and, with one violent sweep of his arm, sent the entire table crashing onto its side. Cards, cups, and bottles scattered across the dirt.
"What is wrong with you!?" one of the men barked as he stepped forward.
Broc answered with a shove powerful enough to send him stumbling backward into the others. Several Blue Hearts moved in at once.
Turik shoved through the crowd. "Hey... come on. Let's not do this." He barely finished speaking before Broc's fist crashed into another man's jaw.
The soldier collapsed instantly.
The remaining men surged forward.
"BROC! Enough!" Turik threw one of the men aside before planting himself between Broc and the others, spreading his arms to keep either side from charging. "Walk away!"
No one moved.
Broc stood behind him like a storm barely held at bay, glaring past Turik at the men still eager to fight.
"Come on, Broc." Turik reached for his arm.
Broc tore himself free. He turned away on his own, leaving the crowd behind as he strode across the courtyard.
Turik hurried after him. "Whathappened in there!?"
No answer.
"Broc…?" Turik was almost pleading.
Still nothing.
Turik finally stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. "Talk to me…!" He rested a hand on Broc's shoulder.
Broc shrugged it off as though the touch itself offended him. "She…demoted me." His voice was low. "Back to the ranks…" He took another step. "Damn you, Turik…!"
"Come on…" Turik followed immediately behind him. "I didn't know she was going to do that!"
Broc spun around so suddenly that even Turik stopped. "You denied me my redemption! I should've been the one to bring the Red Dragon back to her!" Every word landed harder than the last..
"You've made me look incompetent… at the very moment she already doubted me…!"
For a heartbeat, neither man moved.
Then Broc turned his back once more and walked away without another word.
This time...
Turik didn't follow. He simply stood there, watching his friend disappear into the growing crowd until West quietly came to stand beside him.
"First you..." Turik muttered, "...now, Broc." His jaw tightened. "Who's next…? Pearl!?" He kicked a clump of dirt hard enough to send it skidding across the courtyard. "SHIT!"
West stayed where he was. Ahead of them, Broc vanished into the crowd without so much as a glance over his shoulder. Turik watched until there was nothing left to see. Only then did he lower his head.