Page 15 of The Wild Prince’s Favorite (The Dragon Empire Saga #3)
“Grand Intendant,” one of the men suddenly hurried over, “I need to report: the Commander’s dragon was sighted above the mountains.”
Tievin frowned. That crazy Kein was still roaming up there?
That couldn’t be good... He glanced toward the mountains, but where they stood, it was hard to see anything.
The mountain stood like a wall, and they were at the very foot of that natural monument, way too close to see anything past that rock wall.
“When?”
“Last night. We’re not sure if he’s still in the area; the watchers last reported seeing the dragon a few hours ago.”
Tievin hesitated. Should they call off the raid?
It was going to be even more dangerous if the dragon decided to attack.
.. This time, even the Prince could possibly be in danger.
What if it decided to attack while they were on some climb?
Even a Dragon Prince would have a hard time healing from a fall on some rocks far below, let alone all the soldiers who would be in danger by staying by his side; those men would stick to their Commander at the risk of being caught in a battle between two beasts.
He glanced around; no sight of the Commander yet, but if he followed his usual sleeping schedule, he’d be here soon.
Could he convince him to give up on the raid?
Tievin looked up once more. He couldn’t hear any growls in the skies above.
Perhaps that mad dragon was simply on the hunt to replenish its strength after a hard battle?
After all, it had probably been injured like the Prince was, and even that crazy dragon couldn’t be in a hurry to attack again so soon. ..
“Commander.”
The General greeting their Commander took Tievin out of his thoughts.
As expected, Kassein didn’t even stop to greet his men.
He walked past them, with only a black fur cape over his shoulder and his long sword attached to his back.
There were still orange scales largely visible on his body, making Tievin think he wasn’t fully healed yet.
Not that this was going to be enough to stop him, of course.
He quickly walked over, strutting quick small steps through the snow.
“Commander,” he said, out of breath just from keeping up. “Your dragon was sighted in the heights of the mountain last night.”
Kassein didn’t answer. He kept walking toward the mountain, gathering all the eyes of the men around him.
One could read the sheer, honest, and pure-hearted admiration in most soldiers’ eyes.
Those were young men who had come to witness the greatness of a fighter with the Dragon Blood, a son of the legendary War God who could rival his father for the title.
It had been ten years since peace had been instilled with the Eastern Kingdom, where the Prince’s sister, Princess Cessilia, had become queen.
Coming to the north was now the only way for men to obtain true military merit, as no security or patrol duty within the Empire could be compared to an actual battle.
Not only had those men chosen to come here, but they were all desperate for some action, anything that would help them elevate their status and rack up military achievements.
Coming back alive from a raid against the barbarians was already worthy of praise, but boasting of having fought by the unapproachable Wild Prince’s side was an honor they would go on to gloat about for years.
From that perspective alone, all those young soldiers were absolutely ready and willing to wake up before dawn, get out in the blizzard, and risk their lives on tortuous mountains.
It didn’t matter how harsh, cold, or ill-natured the Prince was; his strength and achievements were enough to have them lining up in his shadow.
Thus, even the mention of the Prince’s crazy, blood-thirsty dragon possibly flying above their heads during the raid didn’t slow them down; they got in tight ranks behind their Commander in Chief and marched. Tievin rolled his eyes.
“Alright, I’m guessing you won’t be calling this off then,” he grumbled. “I’ll await your return, hopefully with all those men alive. I hate having to write bad news to their families, so please, at least try to make sure most make it...”
Tievin stepped to the side. Despite his best wishes, it was rare that all men who accompanied the Prince returned.
There have been a few that had slipped and killed themselves, some who were attacked by barbarians and didn’t make it, and those who had just disappeared with no way to tell what had happened to them.
The mountain was that cruel, but they were still willing to go.
Thus, he stood next to the General and watched them go, following their Commander toward either death or a battle that could change their lives.
The men that followed Kassein only began to struggle after the first hour.
They weren’t weak by any means; they were young and followed the camp’s rigorous training day after day.
No new recruits were ever sent on the raids, as it was far too dangerous.
Only those who had been in the north long enough to roughly know what to expect were allowed to go.
The truth was, there was never enough preparation.
Even the few men who were on their second or third raid with the Prince found the path unrecognizable; snowfalls, landslides, and wild beasts always shaped it differently within a matter of hours.
A whole portion could have disappeared overnight, forcing them to take a different route, or to climb over some risky gap.
Luckily, the first portion was the easiest, as they didn’t have to watch for dangerous predators this close to the camp. This was just the beginning, though.
As soon as they reached the first heights, things began to get really difficult.
From walking in lines or two by two behind their leader, they went on to struggle even keeping up behind him.
In some portions, there was no path at all, and they were just progressing as they could in the snow, among rocks, and in a way that was getting more vertical than flat.
There came the real climb, where they had to press their bodies against the ice-cold mountain, tighten their grip, and move quickly so as not to be snatched by the void beneath.
The worst part wasn’t the cold biting their faces, the rocks cutting through their clothes and gloves, nor the exhaustion of carrying the heavy equipment; it was knowing this was just the beginning.
The mountain was incredibly tall and it would take a long while before they even reached the first plateaus where they could actually spot the barbarians.
No doubt they would find them; the mere sight of one soldier of the Empire was enough to prompt them to run out of the caves they hid in and attack.
This was a territorial war, and any intruder had to be killed.
Soon enough, the soldiers began scrutinizing their surroundings at any chance they got, standing guard while their peers crossed a difficult section, and counting and recounting the members of their unit to make sure none were left behind.
It was tragically common for someone to be left behind and disappear before the others could notice.
Whether they were taken as prey by a beast, killed by the enemy, or had fallen silently to their death, no one could tell.
The only way to prevent such a horrible loss of a comrade was to watch over one another and keep going.
The only man who didn’t take such precautions was the Commander in Chief.
No matter how many times they saw it, all men were equally baffled by that man’s strength and speed.
The mountain was like a training ground to him.
He could run, climb, and jump without being slowed down by any of the elements.
It wasn’t just because he was carrying less equipment or because his armor was the lightest. His fingers were like claws against the mountain, perforating the rocks like they were butter, with arms so strong that his feet barely needed to touch the ground to support his whole body.
An eye watching this from afar might have found his movements as smooth and precise as the snow leopards in the heights.
Those big, tight, and firm muscles were enough to cause all his men to watch that superb figure with envy, and make them swear internally they’d devote themselves to even more training as soon as they went back.
It also pushed them to try harder to keep up and merely chased away any ideas of giving up.
All of them had worked hard to deserve a spot in this raid, and they were not going to turn around so easily.
Moreover, it would have been suicide to go back on their own, so that wasn’t even a real option; no one wanted to be the one conceding defeat, not when they hadn’t even spotted and fought a barbarian yet.
Hence, no matter how hard it was to keep going and even keep up with the Commander, none of those men dared to utter a single word of complaint.
Kassein wasn’t slowing down for them, so it was up to them to match his pace while not risking their lives.
He wasn’t so kind to help them out either, and receiving any help from the Commander would have been shameful as well; there was a tacit agreement that helping their peers was fine, but no one shall bother the Commander in any way.