The white horse trotted along the path, its hooves splashing through puddles left by last night's rain. Albert sat in the saddle with an odd kind of ease—the ease of someone so exhausted they could no longer remain tense. Behind him, twenty-five riders followed in a somewhat loose formation. Luise on his right, Hilda on his left.
They were heading to the final village. Steinbach? No, that was a village name back in Götthain. This was the village of Stein. A small settlement at the foot of a hill, wooden houses with thatched roofs, fields beginning to be cultivated again now that the war had passed.
The air still carried moisture. The smell of earth and something sweet—perhaps wild berries in the bushes.
"They've already spotted us," Luise murmured.
From a distance, several villagers stopped at the roadside, staring at the armed company approaching. A woman clutched her child, retreating behind a fence. An old man with a woven hat remained where he stood, an axe in his hands—not a weapon, but his grip on it was tight.
"Let them look," Albert replied. "We're not a threat today."
They entered the village. Houses lined both sides of the main road—a dirt track now wet, marked by wagon wheel grooves. At the far end stood a larger building: the village granary, or perhaps a meeting hall. In front of it, several people had gathered.
The village head of Stein was a middle-aged woman.
That was the first surprise. A middle-aged woman with her hair neatly pinned up, a simple dress, and sharp eyes. She stood on the hall's steps, hands on her hips, looking Albert up and down.
"You're their commander?" Her voice was firm, carrying no trace of fear.
Albert dismounted. "Albert vin Götterbaum. We're the Götthain-Lancaster Special Regiment."
"Welcome to our little village, My Lord." The woman stepped down, approaching him. Her eyes swept over Albert, then the soldiers behind him, then back to Albert. "They say you're the one who burned Vallenwood City."
"We're the ones who opened the gate."
"Hmph." She extended her hand. "I'm Marta. Village head here since my husband died two years ago."
Albert was slightly taken aback but casually shook her hand. A firm, rough grip—a worker's hand.
"We're from the kingdom," he said. "Here to ensure the safety of the villages around Vallenwood. Are there any remaining Leandrian forces here?"
Marta shook her head. "They left last week. But they stopped by asking for food."
"Did you give them any?"
"You think we had a choice?"
Albert nodded. "Makes sense."
Marta studied him for a long moment. Then she said, "Come inside, rest for a while. My people will prepare food for you."
"That's not necessary—"
She had already turned, climbing the steps and entering the hall. "Come on. Don't make us feel embarrassed."
Albert glanced at Luise. Luise shrugged.
For a commoner, her attitude was enough to get her beheaded by other nobles.
They entered without another word.
***
The Stein village hall was simple. A long table of rough-hewn wood, backless benches, a hearth in the corner with a large pot boiling. The smell of soup—vegetables and bone—filled the room.
Marta sat at the head of the table, gesturing for Albert to sit beside her. Luise and Hilda sat across from them. The other soldiers spread out outside, taking turns on watch and eating in the yard.
Soup was served in clay bowls. Warm, salty, with bits of meat—probably rabbit. Albert ate slowly after watching Marta take the first bite. Across from him, Luise sipped vigilantly, her eyes never stopping their movement.
"So," Marta began, "what are you really looking for here, besides checking on security?"
"Ensuring the villages are stable," Albert replied. "Recording needs. Reporting to my superiors."
"And after that?"
"After that depends on what my superiors decide."
Marta snorted. "You're a commander, aren't you? They say you lead the troops."
Albert didn't answer. Just kept eating.
Marta stared at him. Probably searching for something—a reaction, a weakness, some kind of tell. But Albert simply ate, his face expressionless.
"Strange," Marta finally muttered. "Someone your age, usually they talk too much or pretend to be brave."
"I'm not a commoner. Bound to be different."
Marta laughed—a short, raspy laugh. "That's true."
They ate in silence. Outside, the sounds of soldiers and villagers mingled—not tense, just the small talk of strangers who had to accept each other's presence.
Suddenly, the hall door burst open.
A young man leaped inside—literally leaped, like an impatient child. Messy brown hair, sparkling brown eyes, a wide smile on his face. He was maybe eighteen years old.
"VILLAGE CHIEF!" he shouted, then stopped short at the sight of Albert and the others. "Oh."
Marta sighed. "Leo... We have guests. Show some manners!"
"I see that!" The young man—Leo—walked closer without a hint of awkwardness. His eyes fixed on Albert, on the sword at his hip. "A BLACK SWORD? YOU'RE ALBERT VIN GÖTTERBAUM?! THE BLACK SWORD DEMON?"
His voice was loud, brimming with enthusiasm.
Albert raised an eyebrow. "You know me?"
"FROM THE SOLDIERS OUTSIDE!" Leo plopped onto a bench without being invited, right in front of Albert. "They said they're from a special unit, under the command of a young man with a black sword. They told me about Vallenwood! Thirty people went in, burned the warehouses, then opened the gate! AMAZING!"
Luise placed her hand on her sword hilt. Leo didn't notice.
"I want to join," he said.
Silence.
Marta closed her eyes. "Leo..."
"I want to join the war!" Leo stared at Albert with shining eyes. "Take me with you. I can fight, I can use a bow, I can ride a horse. I'm strong, fast, not afraid to die. I want to be a soldier like you!"
Albert looked at him. Those brown eyes—full of fire, full of dreams, full of ignorance about what war truly was.
"Do you know what war is?" he asked flatly.
"Of course! Fighting, killing enemies, winning, getting praised!"
"No."
Leo frowned. "What?"
Albert set down his spoon. "War isn't that. War is watching your comrade die beside you, digging their grave with your own hands, sleeping in mud with corpses near you. War is a stench that never leaves your nose. War is killing people, then seeing their faces in your dreams every night."
Leo was silent. His eyes still sparkled, but that sparkle began to waver.
"You still want to join?"
The young man swallowed. Then, in a quieter voice, "I... I want to get out of here."
"Out?"
Leo gestured around them. "This village. This life. Every day the same—plow the fields, harvest, sell the crops, repeat. My father died last year—sickness, no healer. Then my mother remarried a man I hate... I can't stand it." He looked at Albert. "Let me be a shield, let me die on the battlefield—just let me leave this place."
Marta opened her mouth, but Albert raised his hand. She fell silent.
Albert studied Leo for a long time. In his eyes, he saw something. Not just youthful spirit, not just a desire to escape. But the same desperation he had once seen in the mirror, in another life, when he signed up as a foreign volunteer in Ukraine.
"I'm not a savior," he said. "I'm a commander. If you join, you could die. Maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after. Maybe you'll survive, but lose an arm or a leg. Maybe you'll see things you can never forget."
Leo nodded quickly. "I accept."
"I don't have time to train beginners."
"I can learn fast."
"I don't trust new people."
Leo fell silent. Then, with a note of despair, "Then what am I supposed to do? Stay trapped here forever?"
Albert stood. Walked to the window, gazing outside. In the yard, his soldiers sat around, chatting with villagers who were beginning to open up. The sun was rising, drying the puddles.
He knew the risks. A new person could be a spy. Could be a coward who runs in the middle of battle. Could be a fool who endangers the entire team.
But Leo's eyes... those eyes didn't lie. They were the eyes of a desperate person—eyes of someone who would do anything to escape. Spies didn't have eyes like that. They were more subtle, more controlled.
And Albert remembered himself, in another life. Twenty-five years old, a degree in hand, job offers evaporating, the pitying looks from family. Then an online enlistment form. One click.
"You can join," he said without turning.
Leo cheered. "REALLY?!"
"But with conditions." Albert turned back, looking at him. "You'll be watched constantly. I don't trust you until you prove yourself. If you run in your first battle, I'll make an example of you. If you endanger the team, I'll kill you with my own hands. Understand?"
Leo nodded rapidly. "UNDERSTOOD!"
Marta let out a long sigh. "Leo, you foolish boy..."
"I know, Village Chief."
"But maybe this is your path." Marta looked at Albert. "I beg you, My Lord, look after this boy. Or at least, don't dump his body in the river."
Albert almost smiled. "I'll do my best."
Leo had already run outside, probably to gather his things. From a distance, his shouts carried, "I'M JOINING THE WAR! I'M A SOLDIER NOW!"
Hilda, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. "That kid will be dead within a week."
"Maybe," Albert replied. "But maybe he'll become a good soldier."
Luise looked at him. "You saw something in him?"
Albert nodded. "I saw myself. Another version."
Luise didn't ask further.
***
An hour later, they left Stein.
Leo brought up the rear, riding a borrowed horse with excessive enthusiasm. He kept asking questions—about swords, about battles, about Vallenwood—until Hilda told him to shut up.
On the road back to Vallenwood, Albert crossed paths with a messenger from the city. A letter from Lord Harald, bearing an urgent seal.
He read while riding. His face didn't change, but inside, something tightened.
The enemy is preparing a counterattack.
Estimated strength: one hundred and forty thousand. Moving from the north.
Target: to retake Vallenwood.
Order: all units on alert. Return to the city immediately.
Albert folded the letter, tucking it into his cloak.
"Luise."
"Yes?"
"Speed up. We need to reach the city before dark."
They spurred their horses forward. Behind them, Leo shouted with glee, unaware of what awaited.
To the north, one hundred and forty thousand Leandria soldiers prepared. In Vallenwood, the Helvetia forces braced themselves.
The war was about to begin again.