Young Flame

When Tore learned of the plan the military strategist decided on, he couldn’t help but despair. There would be no winning any fight in these conditions. The man should have organised a reconnaissance in force mission and taken any lacklustre gains to show off to the Chairman.

A full offensive, especially one that involves a landing, was the definition of stupidity in the current circumstances. Winter was showing itself to be hellish this year, and while ursu are comfortable in the cold, it’s unreasonable to expect them to fight while wading through semi-frozen wetlands.

The weaponry the enemy had was a whole new field to Tore. No more did the common warrior need to be within striking distance to butcher each other.

The Zadok Kingdom had inferior versions back in the war almost two hundred years ago, but they had been almost completely ineffective against the ursu’s naturally thick skin. Now, Tore wished he took them more seriously. Who would have imagined that a person with no training, no experience and most of all, no body enhancement could ever cause so much widespread death simply because they had the right weapon?

If only countries could settle their disputes by throwing the elites at each other. The death count of innocent lives would be reduced by incomprehensible amounts. Or, even better, settle their disputes peacefully. Not that he was naïve enough to believe that could happen.

The offensive plan relied on far too many external factors going perfectly in New Vetus’ favour to ever possibly succeed. Mostly, it hinged on the strategists of Henosis being idiotic. Considering the speed in which they annexed half of New Vetus, idiotic they were not.

Tore didn’t even have the full details of the plan, but he could already see countless points of failure. If there were Henosis ships in the southern sea. If the Henosis army didn’t push forward after New Vetus’ fake retreat. Even if Henosis had slightly more units than expected. Any of these would doom the entire offensive.

What’s worse is that should this plan fail, it leaves the New Vetus front-line vulnerable to a counteroffensive. With all ursu troops pushing south for a flank from the sea, any piercing attack could reach Flehullen before the units could be scrambled to intercept.

In a way, it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Should the Henosis reach the capital, the Chairman would have no option but to let Hund off his leash. If he could enter the battle, then he would finish this war before the Chairman could call him back.

❖❖❖

Tore had been right.

The ships transporting the ursu across the southern sea were intercepted by Henosis destroyers and sunk. Simultaneously, the front line didn’t just follow the retreating ursu, they stormed passed and crushed much of the defensive positions that had yet to be fortified.

Henosis now controlled a direct path towards Flehullen.

Tore followed the Chairman into the Continae conference room, once again making sure he didn’t scrape his head against the fragile ceiling.

The Commissar of Military Strategy knew what was coming for him. All in the room could see the nervous twitching and terrified expression. The man couldn’t take his eyes off Tore once he entered the room.

The Chairman took his seat with a slump. “Commissar Misha, I would usually have you sent to the Gulag for your failure, but we do not have time for that today.”

The relief on the man’s face was palpable, but it came too early.

“Hund, crush him where he stands.”

Tore sighed, sounding like more of a growl to those around. He would make this quick. He stepped forward to the man now trying to back away in vain, relief wiped away by the terror. Tore reached forward and grabbed the man around the chest. Like squishing a grape, the effort required was no different. He applied pressure on the man’s head first, feeling no resistance at all under his large thumb. He died in a fraction of a second. Tore crushed the rest of his body, trying to keep the blood spray to a minimum.

He pitied the man. Sure, he’d doomed the nation’s defences, but nobody deserved an end like this.

The silence reigned as each Commissar stewed on the death of their comrade. The Chairman, entirely unfazed by the death of his subordinate, took his seat at the end of the conference table.

“Everyone sit,” He grouched when he realised the commissars were still standing, distracted by the bloody remnants at the side of the room.

The ursu hurried back to their seats, not wanting to be the next to anger the Chairman.

“Now, does anyone have a suggestion to solve our pest problem?”

Each and every one of the commissars’ eyes glanced upwards at Tore, but none of them willing to make the suggestion. Quiet ruled the conference room as the seconds ticked by, each commissar not wanting to be the one to propose the only answer any of them knew would work.

“Commissar Dov, I gave those mages you asked for. What do you propose be done?” The unlucky Commissar of Industry is called upon first.

Tore does give credit where it’s due. The man can hide his nervousness and fear remarkably well. “Chairman Vernados, the Henosis army will be here in a matter of days. Should we not have Hund eliminate them?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” The Chairman’s mood soured. “You think I don’t know I’d have a knife in my back the moment I let my guard down around any of you miserable fucks?”

The Chairman rose from his chair and narrowed his eyes at the remaining commissars.

“All of you will take yourselves and your families and join the front lines. Those who don’t will be hanged, including your children.” He marched to the exit, turning only before leaving. “Dov, take those mages with you, their families, too.”

Tore took one look at the shocked and horrified commissars before he turned to follow the Chairman out of the room.

Upon exiting the Continae, the Chairman climbed into the carriage for the ride back to his residence. The carriage was new. Usually, he would walk the fifteen minutes it takes, but his paranoia had only amplified after hearing about the power of high calibre weapons.

The carriage was supposedly bulletproof. Whether it was or not, Tore couldn’t say. It didn’t look like much to him, but he supposed he was grateful to have a wall between himself and the Chairman for the duration of the walk. It wasn’t like he could join the Chairman inside the tiny carriage.

The streets were rather bare. Word that we had lost another major battle and the Empire was on its way has likely spread. Many ursu hesitated to leave their homes with a threat so close.

The lack of people walking the street also made the assassins so very obvious.

He tried to ignore them, hoping if they acted quick enough, he might fail to protect the Chairman. The first assassin passed the carriage and threw the small box underneath while it moved. Tore struggled against the rising desire to protect the Chairman, pushing the urge down as far as he could.

The moment the explosion went off, time slowed for Tore Hund. All he could think of was the man he’d sworn his oath to was in danger. In that moment, the Chairman wasn’t Vernados; he was Torben, and Hund would do anything to keep the man alive.

The explosion crept outward from its origin underneath the carriage. Hund was already too late to stop the explosion, but he could still save the Chairman.

He tore off the side of the carriage, giving him access to the man inside. He couldn’t just snatch him up and move away from the explosion, the whiplash would kill him. Instead, he lifted him ever so lightly and kicked the carriage out from underneath. Using his body as a shield, Tore blocked the explosion from impacting the Chairman. The carriage he’d kicked aside slammed through the building opposite, collapsing the structure.

Tore set his old friend down, watching as the man gasped for breath and looked around with wide eyes. The dust settled and Hund’s eyes fell on the assassin, dead from his own bomb. He turned his head to watch the second assassin throw his own box towards Tore and the man before him.

Hund lifted his arm and grabbed the bomb out of mid-air, clenched his fist as the explosion went off in his hand. Smoke billowed out from his palm, but otherwise, there was no damage.

The second assassin’s eyes widen at the sight and stumbles backwards before sprinting away. Hund’s hand dropped to the sword at his hip as he launches forward.

Only after the cobblestone street is painted crimson does Hund realise there was no need for the blade. His reaction was excessive against an ursu that had probably never seen so much as a brawl, but that someone would try to kill The Chairman — the man who had done so much for the ursu people — infuriated Hund.

He twisted his wrist, flicking off the lingering blood from the blade, and sheathed it.

Hund turned to check on the Chairman and make sure he was unhurt but spots another ursu with a briefcase. The man stared with wide-eye horror at Hund, before dropping the case and runs off. Hund lets the man go, instead crushing the briefcase and making sure the third bomb was dealt with.

He returned to the side of the Chairman, only to find he was not the man he thought. A nauseous feeling rose within his chest when he discovered he’d protected this despicable man at the cost of ursu courageous enough to go against him for the betterment of their people.

Tore sighed in frustration as he realised this attempt would now only amplify the Chairman’s paranoia. If there was any chance he might have sent Tore to fight in the upcoming battle, this had shut that down completely. Tore applauded the ursu who attempted to remove the current chairman, but also despaired at their failure.

With nearly every able-bodied ursu having been sent to war — besides those necessary to keep the nation operating — there was hardly a chance for an uprising. Tore was relieved he wouldn’t have to kill his own people again, but that was only because the Henosis Empire was doing it in his stead.

Every possibility before him led to tragedy, and yet the only person who could change that simply wouldn’t. The hatred he felt for each succeeding chairman was filtered through his fealty for the original, but he felt nothing but resentment for the man kicking the corpse before him. The body was hardly recognisable; shredded by his own bomb.

Tore lifted his hands, urging them forward to wrap around the body of the Chairman. He tried his utmost to finish what the assassins started. The man was right there, just barely outside his grasp. He could squeeze just the tiniest bit and all the nation’s issues would be over in a moment. All Tore’s people would be saved. He would be free to remind the neighbouring states why ursu were once feared.

But it was for nought. He was physically incapable of killing the Chairman.

Tore lowered his arms, severely disappointed in his own lack of conviction. The man before him remained completely unaware of the murderous thoughts running through the mind of his bodyguard.

“Ha! I knew I was right not to trust those lousy incompetents. I’ll make sure they regret this. Hund, if any of the commissars or their families survive the battle, give them a most painful death. I don’t care if they are children.”

Tore remained silent, the inner turmoil and frustration not once bleeding through to his expression. His desire to fight battled with his instinct, as he followed the Chairman to the decriable safety of the man’s lavish home, while the rest of Tore’s people were left before the jaws of the enemy.

He could only hope Henosis would assume control of Flehullen rather than lay it to waste.