Spiritbound [Spirit Magic, Military, Progression] (Book 1 Complete)

The men gathered around a small wooden table laid out on the dirt floor with five poorly crafted stools. Each one took a seat, while a few others stood around. They were all exhausted after the long, drawn-out battle but an overwhelming sense of pride filled their hearts. Dust and blood smeared the green tabards bearing the four silver stars encircling a crown. However, all of them were considered to be in excellent shape.

"I can't believe we fucking held the walls." Nemo leaned back against a stone wall as the stool's legs tilted back. "All that training actually paid off."

"Did you even have an ounce of confidence we could pull it off?" Luther asked. His hazelnut eyes locked with Nemo's golden eyes. Both of them grinned at that moment.

"Fuck no, I thought we were dead," Nemo replied.

They all burst out in laughter except for Liam and Jones. An awkward silence came over the group as they noticed their reactions. Even Nemo dropped his smug smile. All the legs on the stool hit the ground as he stared at his friends.

"Is something wrong?" Nemo asked.

Jones kept his mouth shut as Liam broke the silence. "Alfred, Tim, Max, and a few others died."

The group's cheerful atmosphere dropped, and the light in their eyes seemed to dim. Nemo nodded with a heavy heart. They had trained together through hell and back. Even if they didn't know each other that well, they were still brothers, and the bonds that were formed in the Thirty-First were unbreakable.

"How were their last moments?" Bryan asked, emotions building up in his blue eyes.

"They were heroic," Liam replied. "Some of the bravest soldiers out there."

"Each one of them rushed to the front when the siege towers came and tried to buy as much time for us as possible," Jones added.

The corner of Luther's lips slowly curled upwards. "Those guys always wanted to prove themselves."

"And they did," said Liam.

Jones's eyes fell to the ground. He cupped his hands on his lap before staring at his comrades. They all had their water canisters, and despite his wishes, he didn't mean to turn the mood sour. The clear blue sky betrayed the pain that filled his chest. After all, there would never be a time when he could talk to Alfred about mundane things.

He closed his eyes and thought back to when Alfred was still alive. The young sap would always run around and go the extra mile for them when no one asked. Everyone had their memories of those who had fallen, whether they were good or bad.

Jones lifted his canister high into the air. "Let's give our fallen brothers a toast."

Liam nodded. "To Alfred."

"To Tim," said Luther.

"To Max," added Bryan.

All of them raised their gleaming silver canisters high, a light clink echoing as the containers gently tapped against each other. The metallic sound resonated with their spirits and provided the slightest bit of comfort they needed. It was a bittersweet tune, a melody harmonizing with the warmth of shared memories.

.

.

.

While the Thirty-First mourned in silence, a sense of unease swept across the fortress. Tucker walked through the stone arches and the surrounding soldiers. He could hear the distant yells grow louder. A commotion had broken out between the soldiers of the Thirtieth platoon. From the furious voices and flesh striking flesh, he could tell there was an altercation. Yet he had no clue why. They had won their battle, and his men returned from the curtain walls with minor injuries.

His eyes scanned the surroundings. Everyone was on edge and Thomas, the master blacksmith, was standing to the side, watching as the spectacle unfold. He walked towards the aged man, drawing his attention.

"Captain Welford, I didn't expect you to pay the Thirtieth a visit," said Thomas.

"We're working closely with the Thirtieth in the upcoming battle, so I figured it would be worthwhile to meet with their Captain." Tucker crossed his arms and gazed at the two soldiers arguing. "But it seems like something unexpected happened. Well, besides that, why are you here? I thought all blacksmiths would be back at the inner walls."

"Blah, those guys are cowards. I'm here to check and maintain our knight's equipment." Thomas scoffed. "It's cumbersome work, you know? I swear, these assholes have no respect for their blades."

"Does that mean you're going to check our equipment as well?"

"I already have, though there wasn't much of a point considering how well your men maintained their weapons."

"You're not saying that to reduce the amount of work you have to do, right?" Tucker teased.

Thomas raised a brow with an unamused expression. "Who do you take me for?"

"I'm just kidding, though, since you're here, I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For making enchanted armor for my soldiers," Tucker replied.

"It's the least I could do, though the armor can only do so much."

"It still saved their lives."

Stolen novel; please report.

Thomas glanced at his charcoal-covered hands and sighed. His tired eyes shifted to the Captain of the Thirty-First. He knew that the equipment they made protected the soldiers, but to see the many deceased bodies still plagued his heart. If they were more skilled with rune enchantment like the dwarves, then maybe their creations could save far more lives, but that wasn't the case. Nonetheless, it was the first time someone had thanked him.

"I'll have someone head over to the Thirty-First and reinforce your men's engravings," said Thomas.

"I appreciate that." Tucker held out a hand. "Once the war's over, I'll offer you the best drinks I can find."

Thomas shook his head and scoffed. "Don't say things like that. It brings bad luck."

They both subtly laughed while focusing on the fighting soldiers. The atmosphere had taken a turn for the worse and in the center of the conflict was the Captain of the Thirtieth platoon, Brian. However, unlike the calm and kind demeanor Tucker saw before, something had changed. Brian's hands were trembling, but not because of fear. Instead, it was from the sheer effort of holding himself back.

"Do you have any idea where you are, Peter?" Brian's voice seethed with anger. "We're in the middle of a war and you can't bring yourself to kill the enemy?"

The blonde-haired boy glared at his captain. "He surrendered. There wasn't a point in killing him."

"There wasn't a point…" Brian scoffed and nodded while looking at his men. He then furiously grabbed Peter, whose crimson eyes glared back and threw him to his knees. "There wasn't a point! Look at them and say there wasn't a point!"

The Captain forced the young squire to gaze upon their fallen comrades. Fifty bodies were all neatly arranged in rows with bloodied white sheets shrouding their lifeless corpses. A bitter expression plastered the squire's face.

"Do you see what they did to our comrades?" Brian yanked the boy's sword out of its scabbard and forced him to hold the weapon. "You think we have the luxury to provide mercy when we're backed into a corner?"

"That's not what I was saying—"

"Then what! What were you saying?" Brian shouted.

"Please, I have a family waiting for me…" The Empire's soldier cried out. "I didn't even want to be here. I was conscripted against my own free will! I didn't have a choice!"

Brian's eyes held no warmth as his gaze fell on the soldier. He then forced Peter to his feet and pushed him towards the captive. "Kill him."

The men of the Thirtieth watched the scene unfold before them. A silence fell on them as Tucker observed their reactions. Some were filled with anger, while others were filled with grief. But if there was one thing that they all shared, it was their hatred for the Empire.

Could he blame them? No, because the casualties they suffered were far worse than those of the Thirty-First. They had lost many more brothers, and if one of his men had spared the Empire's soldiers when he told them, there would be no quarter. Then he didn't even want to imagine what would happen. It wasn't in his place to interfere with how Brian handled his men, and Thomas shared the same sentiment.

"No!" Peter fought back as Brian forced him to raise his blade. The Empire's soldier was restrained and laid there with tears streaming down the side of his face.

"Please! Spare me! I'm sorry, I really am!" the soldier cried out.

But before the man could utter another word, Peter's blade pierced through their heart and out through the other side. A crimson pool formed beneath the soldier's feet as tears trickled down their face. The young man's hands trembled uncontrollably at what he had just done, but Brian didn't stop there. He grabbed onto the boy's wrist and forced him to twist his blade. Their foe spat out a mouthful of blood as they desperately clung to the blonde boy's arms. With one final gasp, their lifeless body slumped forward.

Yet not a single tear emerged from Peter's eyes. Instead, pure shock filled his body as he held the corpse in his arms. "W-what did I do?"

Peter took short, ragged breaths and desperately held onto what remained of his composure. Brian glared at the squire and shook his head. "Take him away and clean up this mess."

"Yes sir." The men of the Thirtieth moved like clockwork, following his order to the bone.

The Captain sighed and soon met Tucker's gaze and approached them. The heavy atmosphere pressed down on their shoulders, but Brian didn't let it bother him. He patted Tucker's shoulder and forced a smile. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Don't be. You did what was needed," Tucker replied.

"What was needed, you say?" Brian released a slow exhale. "I take it things on your side went better than ours?"

"More or less, we still lost some of our comrades, but we didn't have an issue like yours."

"I see. I take it your men listened when you said no quarter?"

"They did."

"It seems like among my ranks, there are still some who sympathize with the Empire." Brian took a deep breath to ease the pain in his heart. Finally, he asked. "How did you unify your men?"

Tucker's focus fell on the fallen. "Honestly, I don't know. We trained them like brothers, and so far, that's what kept them alive."

"And no one on your side surrendered?"

"We never gave them the chance," Tucker said, standing still for a moment. A bitterness crept from within as Blaire appeared in his mind. "It was us versus them, so there wasn't any hesitation."

He felt an uncomfortable knot tangled itself within his mind. Yet the words uttered from his lips were the exact same as what Blaire had once said. The issue with morality and necessity came closer, along with the gut-wrenching feeling that something had changed within him. Months ago, Tucker didn't agree with Blaire. However, now he was leading a group of men, and the line that was ever so clear became smeared with blood.

Brian stood to the side as Thomas nodded and took his leave. It was only the two captains now. The Captain of the Thirtieth platoon gestured at Tucker to follow. "Walk with me."

With no reason to decline, Tucker followed beside Brian as they made their rounds through the barracks of the Thirtieth. The men were preparing their equipment and forming their ranks. In a few moments they would head out and, knowing Luka, he was already preparing the Thirty-First to sortie as well.

"Do you know why I agreed to work with you when the other captains refused?" Brian asked.

"No, I thought the commander ordered you," Tucker replied.

"I'm sure he would have if no one volunteered." Brian wore a weak smile. "But that's not why. It's because I saw how you were training your men. From that alone, I knew you weren't like the others who cared about the title. Instead, you were a man who valued those around you."

"That's natural when you're in such a position."

"Believe me when I say this, but it's not. Many don't, and that's where the problem lies."

They passed by the aged stone walls and the dim magic lanterns that lit their path beneath the arches. A solemn light shined upon them and everywhere along the walls were soldiers patrolling. The iron plates shifted with each movement and the dust that kicked up from the ground rose in small clouds. None of their armor had the same luster he had seen before, yet they remained dignified.

"You see, I thought you were naïve when I first met you, but after the defense of the walls. I've come to the realization that my evaluation wasn't correct." Brian kept his head up and gazed upon the castle resting on the top of the hill. "You understand the world around you but haven't grasped its inner complexities."

Tucker stared at the ancient stone bricks that made up the grand castle and its spiraling towers. His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"While you are no longer naïve, you still carry a trace of innocence within your heart," said Brian. "A person grows in stages, one is through a loss of naivety and another is a loss of innocence."

"Is that why you forced that youth to kill the prisoner?" Tucker asked.

"It is." Brian stared at Tucker. "Captain Welford, this war is very real and you should brace yourself because, unlike what happened with Peter, you don't have the luxury of experiencing such an event without risk."

Tucker silently nodded. No words could escape his lips. Captain Morgan was speaking with sincerity. Somewhere along the lines, he had lost his naïve perspective of the world. But there was still a piece of him that hesitated. The world was cruel, and no matter how much he wanted the war to end. He knew that wouldn't be the case. In the days looming over the horizon, a part of him would disappear.