The Reformation Wars: The Trump of Ibis

Chapter 1

Afternoon found Prince Dustin and his band of soldiers resting atop a grassy precipice in the Vtusenian Highlands. While some of the men nibbled on dried meat or fruit, others had already done so and occupied themselves with cleaning and sharpening weapons instead. And of course, three troops served as sentries to keep the camp secure.

Dustin himself polished his sword after a good cleaning. He sat on an angular rock with a sloped face that forced him to plant his heels into the ground in order not to slide forward. With the direct sunlight beaming down on his blade, Dustin couldn't help but spot all the dings and dents in his weapon after three years of war.

Dustin's father had succeeded in causing the majority of the Innutukian Empire to crumble away in a week or two, with some pieces taking a few months to break off instead. Even so, the heartland continued fighting to regain lost ground, and her allies lent their strength too. The majority of the liberated territory had been put in good hands since, but the most grueling aspect of the war was that which Dustin had been given charge of—cleaning up the stragglers.

Hundreds—if not thousands—of smaller cells scattered themselves across the former Innutukian provinces, groups of soldiers ranging from a dozen to a few hundred. The Reformation Wars of the past had been simpler by comparison, with two massive armies standing against one another and engaging to defend the honor of their respective countries, but this was different. Hunting down stragglers was wearying work, and Dustin had lately begun to feel the strain.

He glanced up from his sword for a second and beheld a regretful view in the plains below their vantage point. The capital city of Vtusen had been sacked. Half the city had been burnt, and the other had suffered the ravishing of Innutukian soldiers. It was those vile men Dustin had been tasked with eradicating, and after days of tracking them through the nearby forests, he and his men had finally succeeded. Every single one of the Innutukian marauders had been exterminated.

The prospect of becoming a knight and waging war against Monterayne's enemies had once exhilarated Dustin. He'd devoted himself wholly to his training in order to attain the honor. But three years of war had worn much of that enthusiasm down. Justified or not, his hands dripped with the blood of countless men, and he'd witnessed his countrymen perish in the most horrifying ways possible. Many days, he pressed on with only a cold sense of duty fueling his strength.

A rustling sound over his shoulder drew Dustin's attention, and he glanced back to see his closest friend Jude Holt approaching. These days, Jude carried himself with a certain gravitas he'd shied away from in younger years. No longer did he insist on keeping his face clean-shaven; the golden beard lining his jaw gave him a distinguished edge he wore well. The hint of a scar peeking out from under the eyepatch on the left side of his face spoke to the fact he'd endured his share of the trials of life and still prevailed.

Jude carefully seated himself on a stone across from Dustin and laid his bow down on the ground. The two old friends exchanged a smile momentarily, but then for a while, they sat silently together. It seemed the longer they spent together, the more subtle their friendship. Now they could quietly enjoy the other's presence without need for words to be uttered.

Then came the noise to break up the silence. Their inventive companion Kyle Korynn dropped a bag on the ground to Dustin's right and plopped down in the grass with a loud sigh. Dustin peeked at his caramel-skinned companion for a moment with an amused grin on his face.

"Sure is a relief to have those men dealt with." Kyle said, picking a bit of debris out of his curly black hair, "I can't be the only one who was gettin' a bit tired of tracking just five Innutukians for days when there's so many more out there."