After their decisive victory over Orinovo, Lys-Akkaria's army crosses the border to take back territory that used to be theirs. With the combined forces of a lightweaver and shadowforger, Orinovo doesn't stand a chance.
In spite of their newfound a...
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They crushed the other town even more quickly than the first, despite the locals attempting to use guerilla warfare against them. One soldier had nearly gotten stabbing through with a sword, but her armor protected her enough that she was only injured by the sword sliding along her breastplate and stabbing her shoulder.
And Ainreth still didn't like this. The first town had only been defending itself, and this one had attacked them first likely only because the people had thought they'd have no chance if they tried to lock themselves away. And they had been right.
Ain highly doubted they would have attacked them, no matter what. They'd seemed very interested in simply minding their own business. But at least it was over now, and he and Petre could return to the rest of their regiment.
They'd stationed soldiers in the newly conquered towns to keep an eye on things, and while Ainreth certainly didn't envy those people their task, he was eager to get out of here. And so, not even waiting on the rest of the soldiers to regroup, once the battle was over, he turned his horse around and started riding back to where their camp was.
They'd had to sleep on their bedrolls with no tents last night, the other town simply being too far away to reach and battle over before nightfall. And even an idiot like Onrymin had agreed that attacking at night when Ainreth would have basically no power would be very stupid.
This was nice, though, despite his many conflicted thoughts. Just riding along the road with Petre in silence. Ain had missed the silence. He was used to being around his regiment, and that was rarely quiet with so many people around, but being near the entire Lys-Akkarian army—or at least a considerable part of her, since some soldiers were now guarding their new territory—was something completely different.
Ainreth could barely get a moment's peace with Fennrin, which was awful. They couldn't be lazy together, couldn't lay in bed saying sappy things to each other, couldn't even draw out their love making to any capacity. Before they'd left to start their conquest of their lost territories, they'd decided to be a little adventurous and Fenn had ended up tying Ainreth to the bed. And the longer they went not being able to get a repeat of it, the more annoyed Ain got.
Ain was sure that they could have fit something at nighttime, but Fenn had gotten very shy about it when Ainreth had half-jokingly brought it up, so that was not going to happen. Though he didn't blame Fennrin for it—though he had come out of his shell a lot, he was still quite new to this. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to make him uncomfortable.
"Are you going to say something to the Bulwark about this?" Petre asked after a long stretch of silence, raising a curious eyebrow as they looked at Ain, their curly red hair falling in their face before from the movement and the cold wind.
Ain nodded, sighing. "Yeah. I doubt it will change anything, though."
Petre scoffed. "This was all pointless. Thinking those people would be interested in attacking us from behind? That's paranoid."
