NOVEL NEXT 122. The Last Of Their Line
Tucker held Adira's letter in his hands, gazing at it with conflicted eyes. The worn white parchment had been stained with blood and dirt from his many battles. He wanted to read the letter, knowing that there might never be another chance—but fear gripped onto him. If he read her words, then it might break his composure, stirring emotions he couldn't afford. As the commander, he needed to maintain his composure even if it was just for a little while. The men were relying on him. He placed the letter back into his leather pouch.
Around him, the castle felt more like a cage than a fortress. The Empire's forces were right at their doorstep, not making a single sound with their banners snapping in the wind. There was no telling when they would make a move, but from Luka's report, the enemy was desperate to hide the wreckage of the ruined golem. Even from their own ranks. A move that made little sense and lingered in the back of his mind.
His eyes scanned the battered courtyard. Pathfinder and her men were tending to the wounded, wrapping their injuries with clean linen cloth, while the priests were treating those with severe wounds to the side with divinity. The beads of sweat that trailed down their foreheads and bloodstained gloves were testaments to the difficulties of their operations.
Yet, as Tucker walked through the courtyard, two soldiers caught his attention. He approached them with light steps, nodding at the soldiers who saluted him from the side.
"Jones, Liam…" His eyes shifted. "Where's Nemo? It's rare to see you three separated."
The wooden bench creaked as both of them stood up, bringing their hands to their foreheads for a simple salute. But the moment Tucker saw their anguish written on their faces, he tightly clenched his fists to the side. Something had happened to Nemo. Something they couldn't put into words.
Tucker lowered his hat and quietly stood before them. Jones's lips pressed into a thin line, trembling as he fought the words trapped in his heart. The crackle of flames still echoed in his ears. Ashes covered his hands, and the burning embers that scorched his fingertips reminded him of his failure.
Nemo died to save him.
And the pain that followed broke him. Tucker had heard from the other soldiers about their suicide mission to take out the pillars supporting the central plaza. An insane attempt to land a decisive strike against the Empire's war machine. One that gave them an edge during the battle, but at a cost that was far too great.
Many of their brothers couldn't fight anymore. There was only so much that healing potions and divinity could do, and the strain on the priests was finally taking its toll. Tucker knew this, but they only had to hold on for a little longer. Until the last few hundred personnel were evacuated.
"Captain—I mean, Commander…" Liam held back his quivering voice, trying to keep his composure. "I'm sorry, but Nemo… he… he didn't make it."
A soft gasp escaped Tucker's lips. His eyes fell to the ground. "You guys have always done your best. There's nothing to be sorry about." Tucker met their gazes. "Did Nemo have any letters or keepsakes he would like to send back home? I can arrange for it to be carried with the next set of soldiers."
Jones clenched his tabard, creasing the fabric. "No, sir… he was the last member of his household."
"What?" Tucker tilted his head in disbelief. "He was the last person in his family? Like no cousins, no uncles, aunts, and so on?"
"That's correct, sir."
"Then who would carry on his legacy?"
"No one…" Liam quietly answered. "It's the same for many of us in the Thirty-First. They're either an only child or the last one in their family."
Tucker's gaze drifted to the tired soldiers in the courtyard. A flicker of sadness shadowed his eyes. The thought of an entire bloodline ending at the bastion left a bitter feeling in his chest. If there were something he could do… he would do it in a heartbeat, but they needed every soldier they could get. Every sword and shield they could utilize would buy precious time for their comrades to retreat. There wasn't much he could do, and the reality of the situation weighed on his mind.
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It wasn't until Tucker caught a shimmer of mana that an idea sparked in his mind. He turned towards the bright blue light that flashed within the depths of the castle in wonder.
The next group of soldiers filed into the main hall. From the side, Tucker could see Luka signalling him to come in. Everyone was waiting for him. Waiting for their next set of orders, and even though he hated leading, the moment he stepped forward, it felt like a burden was lifted off his shoulders, knowing that it would soon come to an end.
He stared at Liam and Jones. "Let's get going; the assembly's going to begin."
"Yes, sir."
Both of them nodded, following behind Tucker as he walked past the castle gates. The once immaculate marble floors were now covered in mud. Nearly all of the furnishings had been removed, leaving only an empty hall that most would consider devoid of warmth. But to the soldiers that formed their ranks, it was the opposite.
Out of the seven hundred soldiers who volunteered to buy time, they had lost a hundred to the Empire's war machine. A loss that they carried within their hearts. But in exchange, they had done the impossible. They had taken down the Empire's war machine and obtained records of their battle. Opening a new realm of possibility for their nation.
All their eyes fell on Tucker. His boots echoed against the cold floors as he made his way to the front. A golden badge hung on the side of his belt. Its luster lost to the ashes that covered its surface, burying the sword within the wreath. None of them dared to say a word, staring at their Commander with a symphony of emotions. Some had lost brothers. Others carried the fading memories of Stafford, the fortress city that had once been home.
In this war filled with grief. With despair. The defenders of the bastion stood tall. They had found solace in each other, forming a bond that was only known through combat.
Tucker took a deep breath, watching as the watchmen and captains gathered with the common soldiers. He grasped his left hand, holding it in front of him. "As you know, the final moments of the siege are upon us. We've been through a grueling series of battles, making the Empire bleed for every single inch of ground they've taken."
His voice filled the halls. "Each fight has been a testament to your bravery. Your courage. And I am proud to have served alongside each and every single one of you."
Tucker clenched his hand to stop the trembling. He met the gazes of the soldiers he fought beside and forced down the sorrow. Parts of him wanted to tell them about what he saw in the mana device, but their time was limited. He could hear the war horns of the Empire bellow beyond the walls.
"There are only a few hours left before all of our allies retreat. Then it'll be our time to leave."
A dryness filled Tucker's throat. The words became harder for him to utter. "Those of you who are an only child or the last of your family. I want you to raise your hand and move to the front."
The soldiers stared at each other with unease. One by one, they followed their Commander's orders with hesitation. They stepped forward and walked towards him as the others parted to give way. In front of Tucker were nearly a hundred and twenty soldiers, who were young, far too young to have experienced what they had gone through. He could see many from the Thirty-First, along with those from the Thirtieth.
He memorized their faces, catching sight of Liam and Jones at the front.
"You will be part of the first group to leave."
A ripple of gasps broke out from the crowd, but soon died down as Tucker raised his hand. Nearly all the voices fell quiet except for one that ached with pain.
"Why?"
Everyone turned their heads to Jones.
"What about everyone else?" Jones asked. "What about them? How come we're the first ones getting sent back?"
"Because that's an order." Tucker stared at Jones. "The rest will draw lots to determine their positions."
"Then give my spot to someone else; they deserve it just as much as I do."
Tucker took a moment to breathe and slowly shook his head. He could tell from the expressions on the other soldiers that they were just as conflicted. "That won't happen."
Jones released a weak scoff. "Is this because of what happened to Nemo?"
"It's not just Nemo. It's every soldier who followed my command," Tucker's stern voice echoed in their ears. "There's not a moment where I don't mourn the death of those who followed me. And I know some of you might think I'm being selfish, but the thought of a mother or father losing all their children because of this war… it sickens me."
"Then what about you? Are you also going to draw lots to determine your order?"
Everyone waited for Tucker to answer. He had already asserted his rank, and some believed he would do it again. Outside, the rain tapped gently against the glass windows. Tucker recalled the faces of those he had sworn to protect. A trace of sorrow surfaced as the faces of the young soldiers in the Thirty-First entered his mind. He was tired of losing those he cared for, and despite wishing to see Adira, Charles, and his mentor Alex again.
He couldn't bring himself to leave.
"No." Tucker walked towards Jones as everyone held their breath. He could see the anxiety in their eyes. The fear as their shoulders stiffened. Yet none of this bothered him. Tucker placed his hand on Jones's shoulder before gazing at his comrades. "I'll be the last one to leave."