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A unit of spear throwers burst through the enemy’s ranks —

‘Shield wall!’ Thea heard herself shout over the chaos, skidding to a stop and bracing herself against the back of her shield. ‘Shield wall!’

She waited for the shields to slide into place alongside hers, but there was nothing. Her unit kept charging, right into the blunt spears tipped with red paint.

‘Shield wall!’ she tried a final time.

But none listened.

‘Pull back!’ Kipp’s voice cut through the pandemonium. ‘Pull back!’

Thea heeded her friend’s order, retreating with the rest of her unit, fury coursing through her veins.

‘You had the right idea,’ Torj said, as they gathered for the next strategy.

‘Doesn’t matter when no one listens.’

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It doesn’t.’

That did little to quell Thea’s rage.

The mock battle went on for another hour, maybe more – Thea couldn’t tell. Her anger had ebbed away, replaced by exhaustion as they carried out formation after formation, until at last, Torj and Vernich called an end to it.

Begrudgingly, the Warswords shook hands, declaring Torj’s force had secured the victory.

Despite her failed attempt at a shield wall, Thea cheered with the others and clapped her friends on the back with the rest. Though disappointment curdled in her gut at the lack of her own contribution, she was truly happy for Cal and Kipp, who had been the undeniable standouts in the exercise.

‘A shield wall was the right move,’ Kipp told her amidst the noise.

‘I thought so,’ Thea replied. ‘But no one listened —’

‘Why would anyone listen to you?’ came the voice of one of Seb’s lackeys. ‘You’re not a commander, you’re not a warrior, you’re not even a man, try as you might.’

Blood roared in Thea’s ears and she clenched her fists ready to take a swing.

But Kipp shoved him. ‘Oh, piss off you prick. I saw you lingering at the back out of harm’s way. Thea’s ten times the warrior you’ll ever be.’

The shieldbearer lunged for Kipp, but Torj cleared his throat pointedly. ‘Victory will not be so sweet in real life,’ he reminded them, his face contemplative as he surveyed his unit. ‘Look at how many of your men are streaked with paint. Many would be dead, far more injured beyond repair. And look across the field. You would see a pile of carcasses for the crows, and a carpet of warriors moaning in agony, some begging to be put out of their misery…’

Quiet fell and the Warsword continued. ‘While this battle was short, even by my standards it was messy. And you want to avoid a messy battle at all costs. A true warrior of Thezmarr is brutal, yes, but efficient – quick, merciful. We do not draw out the suffering of our fellow man,’ he said, ‘or woman,’ he added with a glance at Thea. ‘You’ll all do well to remember that.’

Torj’s words settled over the group, quelling the excitement and turning things reflective. Thea appreciated the dose of reality, realising how easy it was to get caught up in the celebrations and tales of personal victory when they had not been confronted with the cold, harsh truths of war.

‘Do you think we impressed them?’ Cal asked quietly, nodding in the direction of the commanders and warriors.

‘You certainly did,’ Kipp replied. ‘How many did you take down?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘At least fifteen,’ Thea said.

‘I wasn’t counting.’

‘Horseshit,’ Kipp scoffed.

Cal laughed. ‘Alright, it was twenty-two.’

Thea elbowed Kipp. ‘You did well too. A king of tactics, aren’t you?’