When the men were assembled, I stood before them. They stood in rows, sweat shining on their bodies, spears resting on their shoulders. Their eyes were fixed on me.
"I will not just give orders from the safety of a tent," I said loudly. "I will go with you. I will stand in the front line. I will fight where the first blood is spilled. Not because I must, but because if I am to decide your fates, I must risk my own."
The soldiers roared, and Karem smiled. "That's how it should be," he said when I returned to his side.
---
In the following days, I trained with the men. I was no soldier, but over the years I had seen enough battles to know what was needed. I drilled the basics – blocking with the shield, thrusting with the spear, quick sidesteps. Karem corrected me when I made mistakes, and the men watched with respect as they saw me learning the same things they did.
---
The first attack came quickly. Our scouts reported that a small settlement on the northern branch of the river was holding enemy supplies.
We set out at dawn. River fog cloaked our movement. My heart pounded harder than I expected.
"Remember what I said," I whispered to the men. "Only those who carry weapons."
Karem nodded and raised his hand. The attack began.
The first screams tore through the air. The soldiers charged forward, and I ran with them. The sun had barely begun to rise as we stormed the village.
A man with a club appeared in front of me. Instinct took over – I raised my shield, and the club splintered against it. I thrust my spear once, and the man fell. His blood sprayed across my hands.
The noise of battle forced me to move. Beside me, Karem struck a man to his knees and slit his throat with a single stroke.
"Move!" he shouted at me.
I took a deep breath and charged forward.
---
The fight was short but brutal. Soldiers smashed down doors, men fought back with pitchforks, axes, stones. Blood ran across the ground, dogs barked, children screamed.
In the end, the resistance was crushed. We stood in the middle of the village, panting, some with blood on their faces, others nursing cuts on their arms or legs.
"Bind everyone who surrendered," I ordered. "Gather the women and children and make sure they have water."
The officers nodded and went to work.
I glanced at Karem. "This was only the beginning," I said.
"And you're already red from head to toe," he replied with a sly grin.
I looked down at my hands. They were slick with blood. And I knew this would only get worse.
---
The following weeks became an endless cycle of marching and fighting.
Every morning we rose before dawn. Supply boats traveled along the river while we marched along the banks. The sun burned overhead, sand stuck to sweat-soaked skin.
Each time we found a village, there was a battle. Sometimes it lasted minutes, sometimes hours. Fire spread, women screamed, weapons clashed. I learned to fight quickly. Sometimes I smashed with the shield, other times I had to use the short sword Karem had given me.
I watched men die. I saw their eyes go still as they fell to the ground. Our own men fell too – and I remembered every one of them.
There was blood everywhere – on my hands, on the sand, in my mind.
But we kept moving forward. Each village we took was another step toward victory.
---
One evening, after an especially bloody battle, I sat by the fire. My hands were shaking. Karem sat down beside me.
"Today you saved two of our men," he said. "They saw you. The fact that you fight with them gives the men strength."
I nodded. "And you killed at least five enemies today."
"That's war," he replied, staring into the fire.
This was only the beginning. To the north – where in my time stood my home, beautiful Alexandria – more soldiers waited for us, stronger defenses. But our army was stronger than ever
The command tent was full. Generals, unit leaders, and scribes stood around the large map. In the sand were marked all the villages we had taken, and those still ahead of us. Oil lamps threw a golden glow over the serious faces.
"I want to hear the numbers," I said when silence fell. "How many men have we lost?"
The older scribe bowed and began reading from a scroll. "Since the start of the campaign, forty-eight men have fallen. One hundred and ten are wounded, twenty of them severely."
My stomach tightened. Every name meant a father, a son, a brother.
"How many of the severely wounded can be sent home?" I asked.
The physician, who had been standing quietly in the corner, spoke up: "If we secure a boat, they can return. Some will not survive the journey, but at least they will die among their kin."
I nodded. "Send them back. Every man who can no longer fight must return home. Their families should remember them as heroes."
"And what about those lightly wounded?" Karem asked.
"They stay," I answered. "We need everyone who can still hold a spear."
One of the generals on my left cleared his throat. "Our supplies will last another ten days. After that, we will need a new shipment from the south."
"Send messengers," I ordered. "I want supplies here before we run out. No hunger. If the men go hungry, we'll lose before we reach the next city."
I looked down at the map again. Each captured village was another line in the sand, another step toward the goal.
"Do we have enough to keep going?" I asked finally.
One of the younger officers nodded. "Morale is high. The men say that when you fight alongside them, they feel like they're being led by someone who values their lives. That keeps them going."
I stayed silent for a moment. I knew it was true. Every day I saw them and knew they would die for me if I asked.
"Then we continue," I said at last. "But no more unnecessary losses. Every life matters. I want as many of these men as possible to return home."
Karem grinned and stepped forward. "You heard the commander. Tomorrow we march. And this time, we do it quickly."
The generals nodded, and the council was dismissed.
---
After the council, only Karem and I remained in the tent. The fire in the small brazier crackled and cast flickering shadows on the tent's canvas.
"So," I asked, pouring us both some water, "what do you think?"
Karem sat down on a mat and stretched his legs. "Losing fewer than fifty men out of six thousand… that's a good number. For how many towns we've already taken, that's nearly a miracle."
I nodded. "Our strategy works. The commanders understand how to move fast, how to cut the enemy off, how to surround them. This is no longer just raiding and burning. It's a war with a purpose."
"And the men have gotten used to your style," Karem added with a smirk. "When they see you in the front line with them, they fight like madmen. You know you could stay behind and command from safety?"
I smiled faintly. "We both know I couldn't do that. I have to see what's happening with my own eyes."
For a while, we just sat and listened to the night. It was quiet except for the occasional call from a sentry.
"You know," Karem said after a moment, "when I think about it, this really might be the last campaign. If we take the next settlement tomorrow, they'll have nowhere left to run."
"Then let's hope that's true," I replied, lying back on the mat near the fire.
---
The night stayed calm — until the tent shuddered. I felt the presence of a shadow before I opened my eyes.
She stood over me — a woman from the last village we had taken. Her face was twisted with hatred, and in her hand was a small bronze knife.
She raised it, and the blade caught the light. Instinctively, I sat up, but not before the knife slashed across my throat.
It wasn't the first time I had felt cold steel on my skin. The pain was sharp, but I knew I wouldn't die. Warm blood ran down my chest — and then, slowly, the wound began to close on its own.
The woman stumbled back when she saw I didn't fall. Her eyes widened in horror.
Karem was already awake. He lunged from his bedding, grabbed her wrist, and threw her to the ground. The knife flew from her hand, and he pinned her with a knee to her back.
"You all right?" he asked, not even surprised. He already knew I wouldn't die.
"I am," I said, wiping my neck. The bleeding had nearly stopped. "But if you hadn't been here, she might've tried taking my head off. And that's pain I'd rather not test."
Karem chuckled dryly, though his eyes still burned with anger. "I suppose I'd get used to putting you back together."
I sat up and looked at the woman. She was hissing curses through her teeth, glaring at us with pure hatred. She wasn't a soldier, just a villager who had lost everything to our army.
"Take her to the guards," I said.
Karem dragged her out, and I lay back down, though sleep never returned.
I stared at the tent ceiling. The wound had already sealed into a thin scar. Even though I tried to pretend it was just another night, I knew this couldn't go on forever. The longer I stayed here, the more people would want my blood.