Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 10: Night Terror

{It's been harder and harder to fall asleep lately. When I dream, I find myself back at the palace as I had all those years ago, breath steaming, bones heavy with frost. Before me I see a mask, pale and rigid as ivory, speaking words I cannot understand but in voices I recognize. Elena. The Empress. Even my own mother. It always ends the same though. I wake up in a cold sweat more tired than when I'd first fell asleep. Often I wonder if this is how Captain Dux felt most days. Being ground down slowly through exhaustion, over and over with each passing night. Is this why he took his own life?"}

-Captain Libro. An excerpt from the Aquilan Centrum Campaign.

"You can see here where the wood's starting to rot." The sergeant pointed down to one of the beams laid out in tall, neat stacks. The ones used in construction of the trebuchets. "This never ending mist is soaking them something awful. Even with wax blankets and proper storage, I don't think they'll survive longer than half a year."

Libro frowned at the beam, one hand clutching his cane, the other rubbing life into his sore back. The dark rot along the surface of the wood appeared sunken in, the edge of one square column already starting to crack and split. It was completely useless as it was now. One bad jostle and the whole frame would snap like an oak in a storm.

"Toss it or use it for something else then." Libro recommended. He pointed down the line where the other stacks lay. "And break down one of the trebuchets for parts while your at it. If more of the rot seeps in before we reach Middengard then we'll need replacements."

"Yes sir." The sergeant saluted before plodding off, barking commands at the other sappers milling about. Soon they were hauling wood and stone into heavy siege carts in preparation for the march.

"This bodes ill will." Civis jotted anxious lines into the Vangen ledger, his administrative omnibus to Libro's historical Archive. "We'll be hard pressed against the Middenites if we have nothing to break their walls with."

"Don't remind me," Libro muttered. He sucked in a painful breath, ignoring the sharp angry pain flaring up his right leg. "Come on, let's meet with Hoardie next. I want to make sure he's keeping tour equipment dry or by the Goddess I'll roll him in a bucket of sand myself."

Libro hobbled off towards the Quartermaster's tent, boots squelching, cane sucking into the mud with every painful, glopping step. Civis trailed close behind, his face set into a look that could only mean one thing.

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind me going alone?" Civis asked. "This task doesn't necessarily require the both of us."

Libro shot him a hard look, very easily peeling back the words to find the intent hidden beneath them. "It is my duty as Captain to make sure everything is done correctly. If I had you or Regis or anyone else for that matter doing my tasks for me, then I'd lose the last scrap of respect I still have with the guard."

A rankle of pain shot through Libro's hip, sending a snarl curling up his lips. He turned, spat, and continued walking, ignoring the sharp jolts cutting into his right thigh, and the disapproving look Civis made in his direction.

Even after five years Libro knew he'd still earned nothing as Captain. Nothing except the pain, the torment and the obligation that came from life and circumstance. How Dux had ever commanded such respect with his fellow guardsman was beyond his understanding, only that every imitation had been met with undue disregard.

"Now you listen to me," Civis placed a gentle but firm hand on Libro's shoulder, stopping his advance to the Quartermaster's tent. "While I appreciate your determination, there's a clear difference between being a good Captain and being a stubborn jackass. No one is going to fault you for taking it easy." He looked away then, eyes staring hard into the distance. "Given everything that had happened."