Everlight Family/Elios/BetterPart

Better Part of Valour

Rea

Piles of quartered bodies burned, coils of smoke slowly making their way to the sky. Dancer was in the command tent, pouring over the maps, advising on the best locations to root out any straggler Undead. He'd lived in the mountains on and off for over a decade now, and he knew just where to set up the best ambushes, and the layout of the deepest caves. Not that he ever shared the entirety of his knowledge, but a few key nuggets here and there saved him the training costs of new troops for the army.

"King Dancer."

A very nondescript man had entered, and deeply bowed. "The reports, Your Majesty."

Dancer waived the man forward, still engrossed in the maps covering the center table. The flock of advisors and security details that always surrounded him these days always made sure he was not on the front lines of any conflict, but he still insisted on his personal retinue fighting instead of sitting near him, huddled like a bloody turtle shell. Apparently, enough of the previous rulers had been stabbed, maimed, or otherwise wounded that the royal cabinet was rather touchy about his safety. While he could not watch the battle, he still got to read the reports.

After a moment of silent reading, his milky eyes flicking across the page quickly, a single eyebrow rose.

"Where is Duke Elios?"

One of the several advisors in the room spoke up.

"The houses of healing, my King. He was wounded badly."

With a slight scoff, Dancer tossed the report on top of the maps.

"Have him taken to my keep, and tended by my personal healers."

"Sir?"

"Duke Elios, however short it was, is still one of my knights, and he will be treated as such while he is here. The rest of the army can stay in the auxiliary encampment, as usual."

"As you wish, your Majesty."

Everlight

The ringing in his ears was incessant. He was certain there was no noise to be heard in wherever he was, but the ringing was so blasted LOUD that even if a sound ventured near him he'd not hear it. Irritation like ants under a tunic plagued the semi-conscious Duke. He was uncomfortable, couldn't hear, and had an insistent feeling that he was supposed to be somewhere doing something.

"FOR THE NORTH!"

A memory rose vividly in his darkened vision: the Guardians' charge past King Dancer and General Ra, banner flying, to crash deafeningly into the rust-maddened phalanx of abominations. The fearsome faces of his hand-cavalry grimacing as they roared as one into the fray. His own lance lost in the initial charge, and the Grisly Mace brought to bear against the rattling undead. One swing and a head sent flying; a second! The third connected with a wet thock and would not pull free. Elios spun his mount in the melee, tugging desperately at the weapons as the crushing weight of the enemy closed in. The mace was twisted from his powerful grip at the same moment claws sunk under his mail and pierced deeply into his side.

"No! Aaarrgh!"

Weapon gone, Elios reached for his sword and swung it wildly one-handed as he was dragged from the saddle like a writhing fish in a net of bony arms that clawed and scraped. His other hand gripped the wrist that was digging into his gut and wrenched it free, and he grunted at the searing, visceral pain. The mount screamed and reared, throwing him sideways as it lurched for its own escape.

"Nnnnrg!" Elios growled through gritted teeth.

"Milord Elios?" a shaky soft voice trembled to his ears through the incessant ringing.

He froze. What is going on?

As senses gained traction in the moment, the sandy-haired Duke became aware of several things: his mouth felt dry and full of shredded cloth; his entire left side was fiery with pain; and it was, indeed, blessedly quiet.

Elios peeled one eye open to look around and was greeted--to his shock--with his old quarters in Jedinchel and one of King Dancer's own healers. He closed it again.

At least Dancer might not lecture him on having more discretion in the tactics of his cavalry since they'd been acting in defense of his mountains...? Chagrin crept in behind the pain. They'd obviously won the day, since he was safely in the keep, but once again he'd been carried from the field... likely his unit was decimated, again, since he was not with his own healers. He started to sigh and grimaced at the sharp lancing sensation across his ribs. Another fine pickle, Eli you dunce...