Everlight Family/Isana/Guilt

Isana's face was a grim, stoic mask. She sat astride her warhorse Blizzard, her body tense, reins bent sharply in white-knuckled hands. It was a constant battle not to kick the horse into a run, or turn and loose the torrent of vitriol from her tongue at the new captain whose actions had resulted in their delay.

Neither would do any good.

The captain was ashen-faced as it was, leading the Stormfront with a rigid march, undoubtedly spinning her commander's flat words on repeat in her mind. Some corner of Isana's conscience cringed at letting a captain squirm under the weight of her displeasure rather than setting a positive example and helping her to grow. But there was too much fear, and defensive anger borne of fear, awash in the countess' mind, for her to be reasonable. She was drowning in it, could think of nothing beyond it.

Alyssa.

The missed command to move had left the Lions without their sixscore archers on the line, and now her dearheart was seriously wounded in a tent somewhere, maybe bleeding out, as the Stormfront passed the retreating Perdanese forces on the river road.

Maybe I would have fallen too, Isana's conscience attempted weakly.

Maybe our arrows would have taken down the one that took her... Roared the fiery retort. Guilt spun into a writhing mass in her stomach, insisting on her attention. The surrounding landscape

Tears tracked silently down her cheeks as she held Blizzard to a walk. They would arrive at dawn. What else could she do? There was little sense in dashing ahead into an unknown battlefield in the dark... She wasn't a healer, Aly had Chance with her... fear bled into her hands and they trembled. There had been no reports, she must be alright. Or at least, not dead... Tears flooded anew down her cheeks in silent anguish.

"'Sana?" The hushed query gentle like a fingertip on her right shoulder. Two paces behind, staying even with her flank, Squire Cedric Heinz missed nothing. He saw her hands tremble, knew something was very wrong. He suspected he knew what.

Isana nodded once, unwilling to turn her tear-streaked face where any would see.

Cedric addressed her mildly, softly. "Countess Isana. Respectfully, commander, why are you still here?"

"Ced?" she asked sharply, brow falling into a crease. She peered tightly back toward him, back hunched like a cat anticipating attack, ready to defend.

The squire's eyes softened. He held her gaze, urging her to feel his support, to know that it would be alright. He would not voice these things in earshot of the new Stormfront and their upset Captain. Tact was required. Short snips of information that her distressed mind would digest.

"Milady. The road is safe ahead. The scout report you showed me had the enemy scattered. You need not plod on pace with the Stormfront. Captain Gisbert and I will keep the ranks in order." He paused to give the young captain a nod. The captain's ashen face flushed and she squared her shoulders. Ced continued, "'Sana, You are more valuable at the Front. Go. You are needed there."

The last phrase carried more meaning. Isana's heart leaped. She swallowed. Strangely enough, it was permission. She desperately needed in her heart to be at Aly's side. Duty kept her leading the unit. Cedric had rebalanced the scale she'd used in her decision. What more service could she offer than support for the Queen, that nobody else could give.

"You're right, Cedric..." she voiced, low and almost steady. "Wise." A little smile of thanks offered over her shoulder to her loyal squire, who only shook his head. "Alright. See you there. Be safe."

She leaned forward and Blizzard sprang to life, carrying the Countess to her Queen without looking back.