Nero had strapped his patched marching bag that had seen him through two wars to the pommel of his sword.
“My Prince,” the Lieutenant bowed immediately. The other royal ‘dogs’ followed suit.
“At ease, Officer,” Nero’s wide smile glittered almost as brightly as his polished armor. “For the next month or so, I’m not your prince, but Commander Nero.”
Riding over to his friend, Nero slapped him on the shoulder. “Well, General, one more battle won’t hurt, right? I’m sick and tired of the Palace anyway. And weddings are just so tiresome.”
Nero kept blabbing on.
“Does the King know?” Hadjar interrupted him.
The Prince immediately fell silent and his smile faded.
“I told him just before I left.”
Hadjar didn’t like that.
“Well, Serra and Elaine don’t know, do they?”
The smile finally disappeared from the Prince’s face, and the bridle in his hands creaked plaintively.
“I’m not a slave to my wife, Hadjar. I can do what I think is necessary. And right now, I consider helping my friend to be of the utmost importance.”
Hadjar tilted his head to the side and looked at Nero expectantly. He frowned even more and looked away.
“I’ve left her a note,” he muttered. “She’ll understand... probably.”
“Or, more likely, she’ll pack her things and go back to the Sea of Sand,” Hadjar said. “You’re now a married man, buddy. You have responsibilities. One of them is to devote the next month solely to your wife and your marriage bed.”
Nero lost his temper and waved his hand abruptly. His horse squealed nervously and stomped around.
“So, while my only friend, nutjob that he is, is sticking his head through a noose, I have to stick my-”
Hadjar cleared his throat, reminding the Prince that they weren’t alone. The Royal soldiers were standing next to them. Nero stopped ranting.
“My friend,” Hadjar’s clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I’m not a hapless mortal. Have fun, rest, celebrate your wonderful bride. You won’t even have time to worry about me. I’ll be back even before you get tired of checking the bed’s durability and drinking enough wine to get an elephant drunk. Besides, what’s a few insurgents, a pair of snowflakes, and a dozen monsters to the Mad General?”
The Prince smiled wryly and sighed.
“Besides, don’t try to fool me, you just want to escape your sister.”
Nero laughed. Then, as was often the case, the Prince and the General egged each other on and couldn’t stop laughing hysterically for about a minute. Their laughter made even the most experienced officers uncomfortable. Some of them recoiled while others reached for their weapons instinctively.
“Don’t die out there, Mad General,” Nero wiped away his tears of laughter and held out his hand.
Hadjar smiled wickedly in return. “Don’t miss, Commander.”
Nero turned his horse around and rushed away. He most likely felt like he wouldn’t be able to resist the allure of another adventure if he stayed on that hill for much longer.
Such was the way of those who followed the path of cultivation. A quiet life was hell to them. They were drawn to distant horizons, secrets, and deadly opponents that would force them to overcome their limits.
Hadjar shook off his morose thoughts and turned back toward the north.
“Move out!” He ordered and spurred his horse.
Chapter 233
It was much easier to move as a small squad than an army of three million. It took Hadjar’s squad only a few days to cover the sort of ground it would’ve taken the Moon Army a month to traverse. They sometimes paused to sleep for two hours before moving on. They also ate on the go. The riders and cannoneers, whose weapons were being transported in large carts, had it easier. However, the infantry wasn’t complaining: they were being paid triple the usual amount for this.
When they reached the snow-covered White Forest, Hadjar called for a short rest. The soldiers happily collapsed to the ground. For about five minutes, the squad resembled a bunch of corpses, that’s how motionless they were from exhaustion. But, due to the cold wind, which kept blowing snowflakes at them, they had to get on with it. In short order, the soldiers began to set up tents and light fires, basking in the life-giving orange flames.
The eternally snowy forest was surrounded by rivers, meadows, and grassland. It was as if summer, which still reigned in Lidus, had bowed before the domineering cold and hadn’t even tried to encroach upon the White Forest’s territory.
Hadjar stooped and picked up a red wildflower. It bloomed only in the summer and was a symbol of this season. Seeing a snowflake melting atop it was somewhat unusual, but amazing.
Hadjar sat down on a rock and toyed with the flower in his hand for a while. He was immersed in his memories once again: Elaine had laughed as they’d plucked these very flowers and tried to weave a wreath for their mother. They hadn’t succeed. Then Haver had showed his children how to do it. Hadjar still remembered that day fondly. Now this simple flower, with which shepherds decorated the hair of their beloved, would forever remind him of his mother and motherland. It grew nowhere else but Lidus for some reason.
“General,” the Lieutenant came up to Hadjar. “Perhaps we should move a little further to the south. Our camp will be clearly visible here. Especially if we light fires at night.”
Hadjar looked at the officer. It was unlikely that he was trying to offend the General. He just really wanted their mission to succeed. Therefore, Hadjar didn’t remind O’Shekl that he was an experienced military commander and had won two wars.
“It’s all right, Officer,” Hadjar opened his fingers and gave the flower up to the will of the wind. It was picked up and carried off somewhere far away. “If we are noticed, it’ll work in our favor.”
“But General...”
“I don’t know what the King told you, Officer, but we aren’t going to fight them. We’re here to kill someone. There’s a big difference between the two. To get as close
