The Sovereign Codex.

Nobody Sleeps Tonight

The news reached the camp without warning

Panic coursed through the tents before the sun had completely risen above the hills. Men who had recently learned to maintain a line exchanged wide-eyed glances filled with surprise. Some of them had never held an actual weapon before. Others flinched at the sound of an instructor's shout. The unexpected command to march north threw them into a chaotic search for their equipment which did not feel familiar to them.

Officers moved through the confusion speaking in flat tones.

“You are not being sent to fight.”

“Dravaran forces have moved back from the border.”

“Your job is only to escort. Supplies. Arms. Replacement gear for Fort Varos.”

These words eased the tension for most of the recruits.

Shoulders relaxed. Breaths slowed. A few of them even laughed nervously, short bursts of laughter as if the news had been a poorly timed joke at their expense.

Vaeron remained unshaken.

Edrin watched from the edge of the formation. The commander stood over a map placed on a table with another officer, speaking in low voices while moving his hands over the parchment. Edrin could not hear everything being said but caught bits. Missing scouts. Old reports. Unconfirmed retreats. Vaeron's stern face suggested something different than what the other officer was conveying.

Edrin felt a sense of true doubt settle in his stomach.

The officers were discussing safety. Vaeron’s eyes indicated another narrative.

Real weapons were distributed by midday.

The ordinary recruits formed a long line as crates were pried open. The steel that was pulled out appeared dull and worn. Edrin received an old sword, the grip cracked and wrapped in fraying cord. The balance leaned slightly toward the tip. He tried it once and said nothing.

Taren got a short spear.

He turned it around repeatedly with a scowl.

“This is shorter than my arm. What am I supposed to do with this? Politely poke someone?”

He complained for the next hour about its length. About its weight. About how the nobles were already riding on clean horses while they walked in the dust. Edrin let Taren's complaints wash over him. The spear was definitely better than having empty hands.

Cassian and the other noble recruits rode at the front of the convoy with the mounted section. Their armor caught the sunlight. Their horses looked well-fed and robust. Edrin and the common soldiers walked alongside the supply wagons. The wheels creaked under the heavy burden of grain sacks, spear bundles, and tightly sealed crates of replacement gear. Dust kicked up with every step and soon covered their clothes within the first mile.

The journey began quietly.

The road was wide at first. Fields turned into low hills. The column extended long and slow. No one discussed the possibility of an ambush. No one mentioned the border. The men simply walked, observing the changing scenery.

By afternoon, the pace settled into a steady rhythm. Taren fell into step beside Edrin. For a period, neither spoke. Then Taren broke the silence in his usual fashion.

“When this year ends I will take whatever wages they pay me and go to a city. A place with real currency. Inns. Work that does not leave dirt under my fingernails.”

Edrin kept his eyes fixed on the wagon in front of him.

“I just want to go.”

Taren glanced at him.

“Back to the farm?”

“Anywhere that is not this.”

They continued walking in silence.

The words hung in the air needing no further explanation. Home meant different things to each of them. Neither thought the other was mistaken.

The sun hung low in the sky.

The road narrowed.

Hills rose steeply on both sides, close together. The column slowed as the path required the wagons to form a single file. Trees clung to the slopes. Rocks jutted from the ground resembling broken teeth. The air thickened.

Vaeron rode ahead and raised a hand.

“Scouts ahead. Now.”

Four men detached from the front and disappeared around the corner. The rest of the column waited in silence. Horses stamped their feet. Men adjusted their gear. No one spoke above a whisper.

Time stretched on.

Only one scout returned.

He approached on foot, limping noticeably, with one arm pressed against his side. Blood stained his sleeve. His face looked pale and gray. He walked directly to Vaeron and murmured in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

Vaeron listened without showing any movement.

Then his expression shifted.

Something cool settled on his features. He sat up straighter in the saddle and turned to face the long line of wagons and men.

His voice rang out clearly along the narrow road.

“Nobody sleeps tonight.”