Purpose

5.

Damian sat in the shade of a large elm tree, high on a hill, looking down at the camp of the united armies. It was evening, and the low sun cast long shadows over the tents, which glowed like small, white-painted hills in the orange light. The air was filled with the soft rustling of the wind through the pennants and banners, and the dull sound of hammers driving wooden stakes into the ground.

Just a few weeks ago, Damian would never have imagined sitting here, in this camp, as one of the commanders of the last great battle for the island nations. His heart was heavy, the memories of his older brother, who had started this war, still fresh in his mind. His brother had recaptured the first four islands, burned the enemy fleets, and retaken the fortresses that once belonged to their family's realm. But fate had been cruel. Damian had received the news of his brother's death shortly after he himself had donned armor for the first time.

Now the burden rested on his shoulders. He was not only the younger brother but also the successor to his brother, whose footsteps were so large that Damian could only hope to fill them with great difficulty. But he had no choice. His brother's legacy pushed him forward, as did his duty to his country and the people he had sworn to protect.

"Is this the young Damian, the second son of King Eremias?" The voice that pulled him from his thoughts was deep and respectful. Damian looked up and met the eyes of a man who must have been five years older than himself. His eyes were alert, his body tall and strong, but it was the way he moved that caught Damian's attention—like a predator, graceful and with precise, controlled movements. His elegance and sharp eyes seemed oddly familiar to Damian.

"Karim, I presume?" Damian responded, rising. "The man said to have continued my brother's campaign when no one believed we could win." Karim gave a crooked smile and stepped closer. "We all did what was necessary. Your brother was a great man, Damian. It is an honor to have fought by his side—even though he is no longer with us." Damian nodded silently. He knew many men had joined the war only because they believed in his brother, not in him. But now, as he was here, he felt all eyes were on him, expecting him to complete his brother's work.

"I hope I can live up to his example," Damian said finally. "You will," Karim replied, placing a hand on Damian's shoulder. "You have your brother's blood in you, and that means you are as brave and determined as he was. And what you lack in experience, we will overcome together."

They exchanged a long look before Karim nodded and stepped back. "Come," he said. "There is still much to be done before nightfall. And there is something I want to show you."

Together, the two men made their way through the camp, passing soldiers who followed them with respectful glances. There was a tense but calm atmosphere in the camp. The men were preparing for the next battle, but it was a tense calm, the knowledge of the forthcoming challenges hanging in the air.

"Your brother freed four islands," Karim said as they finally arrived at the edge of the camp, where a wide, open field stretched out. "But the last three islands will be the hardest. Ahead of us lies Miral, the fortress of the enemies. Beyond that are the two islands Caelor and Stalmar, which act as bulwarks defending the heart of the realm." Damian looked into the distance, where the dark outlines of rocky coasts were visible on the horizon.

"We will need a strong alliance to overcome these walls," Damian said thoughtfully. "And we have one," Karim replied. "But we must be careful. The enemy knows this is our last chance, and they will do everything to stop us."

Damian nodded. "I met your brother while traveling through the mainland," he said, shifting the conversation. "A wise man, a scholar. I have great respect for him and his work."