The Storyteller (THE LEGENDS OF AARYAH #1)

TALE THREE OF THE REGRETFUL LEGIONARY - Lost Cause

"Come on in! Faster, faster! Move your asses, you shit holes!" An imperious voice kept shouting in the distance.

Donovan wasn't able to understand where it came from, perhaps somewhere right ahead the Gates, perhaps closer, but he immediately recognized the General Commander of the Army of Justice. The Half Demon would never forget the disgusted looks he kept throwing at him during the Acceptance Ceremony...

Most probably, he didn't agree to the exiled Demons joining the Army but he couldn't openly oppose the Sultanates and had to simply accept their will, no questions.

It was dawn when the prisoners slowly entered City of the Demon, tired, hungry and dehydrated, half dead creatures walking without even knowing why. Whilst all the men had been forced to proceed on foot, from Jylan, through the Desert of the Demon, up to the Sultanate of Sephrin, most children and women had been crammed on the only three wooden carts Rines had allowed Donovan and his soldiers to take for the Kazjéh.

For its part, Benan hadn't argued with the Sultan of Jylan, nor had he expressed himself on the matter. He was too astute to show he actually cared about the Kazjéh' fate.

The children looked out of the carts, bold and clueless to the dangers, but just curious of the world all around them. The oldest recognized the bloody and chaotic places they had been living their childhood in, terror filling their big eyes. The youngest ones, instead, were fascinated by the wealth and pomp of the City, something they had probably never seen, nor had ever been used to during the time they had spent with the Giants.

But no matter how beautiful a thing seemed, eyes were the first to lie. You could never completely trust that thing and speak about its beauty until you had known it personally. And not even then you would have had a definite answer.

The grown-ups looked hopeless now. When they had left Jylan, days before, they cried and screamed for their babies' lives to be spared. They had begged Donovan to help them as if he were some kind of god, even if he and his people were their enemies. Even if his heart grew more and more desperate together with theirs, the Half Demon had tried his best to remain detached and ignore their requests. To do what he was expected to do.

If that depended on him, there would have been no war in the first place. But it didn't depend on him. There was nothing he could do. At least, not openly and not yet.

Donovan had heard once that you really get to know a person when they feel the most close to death. Well, the Kazjéh didn't beg for the Djimanatá's forgiveness, didn't beg to keep living. They only feared for their loved ones.

"Her Highness Naen Zeke will be pleased with your service, Rector Donovan Vazh." The General Commander dryly interrupted his thoughts.

"It's been my pleasure, Commander Djimen."

Rei Djimen, General Commander of the Army of Justice, answered with a brief, fake smile, then remained quiet for a bit, analyzing the Half Demon at his left with his orange, enigmatic eyes as they kept riding next to each other for the next couple of minutes.

Donovan simply focused on the road. Rei loved getting people to feel nervous, anxious just because that way they would have had no idea about what was going on in his mind, what his thoughts were, but the Half Demon had no intention of letting him win.

A little later, General Djimen was back at it. "So, you've made it Grand Rector of the Fifth. An excellent start, I'd say. Not everyone has the chance to join and compete for a Title soon after."

"Nor many join as Grand Officers. It's a very rare privilege." He smirked and nonchalantly moved his ebony hair out of his face.

Donovan understood right away what the other was referring to, but didn't give him the satisfaction of successfully provoking him.