Ca Ira | yoonmin

Three

The weariness seeps into his bones, shrouding everything in a hazy blur as his eyelids flutter.

Yoongi leans against the carriage outside of Salle du Manège, and waits for Hoseok to wrap up his impassioned debate with one of the deputies. The restless huffs of the horses, the clamor of the crowd, they all blend into a dull buzz that recedes to the back of his mind.

The days have been excruciatingly long, blurring into the sleepless nights.

The influx of volunteers joining the newly founded National Guards occupies most of his time. Many of them are san-culottes just like him, bright-eyed youths from the streets of Paris and neighboring districts, untrained and undisciplined.

It becomes a daily struggle to structure the rapidly growing army properly. Gone are the days of aristocratic and well-educated officer corps. Now, hot-blooded new recruits clash with old veterans still sharing monarchist sympathies. On paper, Yoongi and Hoseok divide up their roles, each responsible for infantry and cavalry units. But in reality, they work together, scrambling everyday to keep the army afloat without major incidents.

And there is no supply to equip the new army. Weapons, ammunition, uniforms, everything is in short supply. The royal family has been overthrown and quarantined, but famine and scarcity of basic resources for survival are still prevalent.

Sometimes, it takes one single night to destroy a world, but generations to build it back up.

And who's to say if they are doing a better job than their predecessors? The new national assembly is filled with enthusiastic Intellectuals, people who believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are doing the right thing. Creating a whole new world, everything dazzlingly new and bold - laws, declarations, calendar, scientific units, monetary system...

Yoongi is not one of these people.

Born as a carpenter's son without the means for a proper education, lengthy law documents and declarations overwhelm him. During meetings, when the young lieutenants from prestigious artillery schools debate fervidly about combat strategies, Yoongi tries hard to command the situation while quietly picking up on the terminologies he's never be exposed to before.

The soldiers of the common battalions adore and support him, knowing fully well that he's always at the forefront of every battle, focused and watching out for their collective interest. But is that enough? Is he really the right person to be a general? Or maybe he's just another fraud, rapidly ascending through the ranks only to fall harder later.

The muddled thoughts wear him out. As he shakes off the haziness and contemplates leaving alone, there's a tap on his back, feeble but insistent.

"Enjy? Is that you, Enjy?"

He snaps around in surprise, and is met with a face worn out by the passage of time, eyes burning with anguish.

An old lady in mud splattered rags reaches for his uniform with shivering hands.

Yoongi hesitates before responding, "are you looking for someone?"

"My Enjy... You're not him..." the gleam in her crinkled eyes dims, making Yoongi feel inexplicably rueful.

"Madam, do you need help finding someone? Are you ok?"

The old lady waves her hand to stop him, and murmurs with her head lowered, "not him. Not my Enjy, it's never him..."

"Your Enjy, how long has he been missing?" Dark thoughts float through his mind, but Yoongi keeps his voice casual and supportive.

She shrugs, torso swaying and eyes glassy, "months, I don't know. He was so excited, wanted to fight for the cause, for all of us, he said. Fire everywhere, so bright, and the sound of shooting and screaming every night, too much..." She shudders, but her eyes suddenly snap back up, staring into Yoongi's. "Have you seen him? He's your height, your age, do you know where he is?"