Consequently, shrinking soul, turn on your heels and go back before penetrating further into such uncharted, perilous wastelands."

— Maldoror,Part I, Chapter 1

The heat from the sun does not seem as unbearable as it was the day before, as you and your troop marched across the rocky terrain. Though the trip would’ve been faster by flight, the Lord Commander had his soldiers walk along the ground besides you out of respect.

Even if you weren’t injured, you would’ve never accepted to be carried out of pride. You are the Breag Naofa: it was to you to carry, not to be carried.

Every other step or so, a sharp stab of pain would pulse through your side, which began to frustrate you more and more as time went on. The mutations you went through when becoming the Breag Naofa should’ve, in theory, dampened your pain receptors, allowing you to keep fighting for longer periods of time despite your injuries that you would sustain, yet here you were, days after the battle, and still moaning over the arrow wound that you received.

You had to toughen up, the Hive doesn’t need a weakling as it’s protector.

"Are you feeling any better, My Lord?" Private Michan's voice interrupted your thoughts, as you turned to look down at the Changeling to your side. Out of most of the soldiers that you've seen an fought with on the fields of battle, Michan was easily one of the smallest drones that you've seen. While most soldiers Came to about below your chest, Michan's head came to rest just below stomach, and that was the added height of the armor that he proudly wore.

Though it's wrong to assume is his worth by his size alone, you came to wonder how Michan even passed through the intense training that Changeling soldiers had to go through. You would have to see him in action to gain a measure of his worth, but in the meantime, you would give the young private the benefit of the doubt , and allow him to prove himself.

"Yes, private, I'm feeling much better than before. Thank you for your consideration."

"It's no problem, My Lord! When we get back to the fort, can I get you anything? Maybe some wine? Or some mead? Oh, down in the kitchens they make the best--"

"Private Michan! Quit pestering the Breag Naofa!" The Lord Commander bellowed, causing the Private's ears to lie flat against the side of his head. For the briefest moments, a look of hurt crossed the young Changelings face, before forcing a stoic grimace in it's place.

"My apologies, sirs," Michan stated flatly, giving a crisp salute, and marching in line with the rest of the privates, who began conversing amongst themselves at his return. You silently watch the young Changeling leave, wondering if you should come to his defense.

"The boy didn't mean any offense by it," You said, as you picked up the pace, Vhelen matching the speed in your strides," He was just excited, is all. This his first mission out?"

"I Know, I know, I shouldn't have snapped at him so harshly," Vhelen replied, regret in his tone, "He's a fresh amongst the rest of the troop we had here, as well as numerous others who have joined us at the fort. You know, since the....ill tidings of the battle that's just passed. Then again, you're already aware of the situation at hoof."

Yes, you were.

The amount of bad news that you had received last night was enough to sour your appetite this morning, as well as leave a pit in your stomach. The attack on the border of the Gem Vale stood to gain nothing in it's hopes of returning any sort of good investment to the Hive. The gems that the War Council thought could be used to artificially store Love, your people's main source of nutrients, were present at the village that you intended to sack.

There wasn't even a village, or mine at all.

What should have been a small mining town, home to Storage Crystals used in the preserving of magical energies, was instead a well armed and manned fort, home to not just ordinary soldiers, but King Ector's personal host of Knights of Arkon.

What should have been a quick pillage, escalated to a minor siege, one that your troops were not prepared to make. So, knowing the odds of besieging a fortified fort with such low numbers, far from a fort of your own and it's supplies, you were forced to do one of the things that you hated most: Fleeing.

And so you fled, with a host of Knights in pursuit, due to shitty planning on the Council's part.

Or maybe, was it sabotage?

The location, the planning, the execution, none of it seemed to sit well with you, the more that dwelled on it. You knew that the Queen was not as favored as she once was in the prime of her rule, but to openly sabotage plans and instill a massacre on their own soldiers?

"My Lord, we are approaching the fort."

Your musings are interrupted by Vhelen's voice, taking in the sight before you. Fort Heshen, though not the biggest, was still quite large. It's surrounding landscape held some the most trees that could be seen this far south of the Wasteland, though a good portion of the trees were either dying or petrified. Large walls of stone, blackened with an outer coating of steel and battlements, encircled one of the few frontier Sub-Hives in the area, with a small collection of homes and shops etched into the various cocoons embedded in the stone clad landscape. Towards the center of town lie the barracks for the soldiers, with various house banners adorning its walls, and at the top of the small hill within the fort, stood its keep, a giant, black, gnarled building of ebony, with three jagged spirals protruding from the sides and centers. Within the keep sat the Commander of Fort Heshen, Risteard Sorley, the head of House Sorley, one of the traitorous houses during the Reunification War.

At one time, you stood in Fort Heshen covered in Sorley blood, leading an endless wave a troops cascading through the burning gates of the city. Half of the dead trees in this valley were due to the fires you and the army caused when besieging the fort. Looking at it now, it seems as though the city is still trying to recover from the loss and bloodshed.

You know that you were not the most well liked person in this fort.

But with an attack by the Bossk almost inevitable, you had no choice but to come to the city that you nearly destroyed not so long ago, whose people you put to the sword, and return to see to it's defense.

Within an hour's time, you and your company arrived at the large, black gates of Heshen. Carved into the iron gates were different murals and carvings, showing the history of the Sorley House, depicting battles, celebrations, important times of note. The freshest carving showed the city burning and alight, destruction abound within the buildings and keep, with a host of Changelings entering through the destroyed gate. And faintly, yet still noticeable, a bipedal figure was carved in the front of the army, a sword poised to strike down a Changeling mare and child.

The carving was a testament to all that entered this city that they will never forgive and forget the Burning of Heshen.

Vhelen noticed your gaze lingering on the fresh carving, shaking his head with a sigh.

"Don't dwell on it, my Lord. Once we see to the defenses, and collecting the wounded, we'll be back in the capital in no time. We won't have to remain here long."

"I never killed children, Vhelen," You mutter distantly," I may have killed traitors and soldiers and all manner of other things, but I've never once killed innocents. This mural is a lie.”

Vhelen lays a comforting hoof on your leg.

“I know, My Lord, I know. I was there, too.”

You turn to look at the old Lord Commander, understanding in his eyes, an understanding that you appreciated. In those dull, blue orbs spoke years of experience, of heart ache and suffering; suffering that you could hope you would never have to know.

You may be the Breag Naofa, but you were chosen.

The Lord Commander earned his title, through immeasurable suffering.

“Hark! Who goes there!” A voice hollers from the top of the gate ramparts.

Drawing both of your attention upward, you notice that a line of Changeling soldiers stand at attention upon the battlements, numerous spears and crossbows aimed down at the group of you below. Though they are Changeling soldiers, most of the company had crests of House Sorley engraved on their helmets or breastplates, and did not look happy at your arrival.

Glaring at the disrespectful display in front of you, you shout back at them.

"This is the Anonymous, The Breag Naofa of the Palingar Hive, Warmonger to Her Majesty Queen Chrysalis, Ruler of the Changelings! With me is Lord Vhelen, Lord Commander of the Army of St. Gnosis, as well as his entourage! WE demand entry into Her Majesty's Fort Heshen, and to speak to Lord Risteard!"

A long silence followed your outburst, as the tension seemed to be so thick in the air, that you could cut it with your blade. Though they were no friends of yours or the royal army, they still held your wounded, and were bound by Queen's Law to obey their summons when called.

A Large Changeling Throne, clad in the same dark ebony armor that his comrades wore, yet adorned with further etchings and carvings across his plate, stared down at you and your group, matching your glare with a harsh one of his own. You place a hand on the hilt of your sword, almost daring the Throne to challenge you. Eyes locked for moments, the Throne tears his gaze away from you, before hollering to the group of Changelings behind him.

"Raise the gates, let 'em pass!"

The large iron gates rumbled like distant thunder, causing the ground to shake beneath your feet, as they began to separate, grinding against the hard, rocky ground. As the gates parted, you and your group stood at the attention, ready to take action if it was required. You And Vhelen did not trust the House Sorley, and the feeling was a mutual one.

As the dust settled from the opening, figures emerged from behind the gate to greet you. A fat Changeling, in flowing robes of black and crimson, lead the procession. Like all other Changelings, his eyes glowed with a luminous pale blue, harboring a deep resentment for the group that stood before him. His mane seemed longer then most Changelings, dangling down the sides of his neck, adorned with gold ornaments, in attempt to advertise his wealth. Though he was fat for a Changeling, his underlying appearance and aura to you reeked of danger.

This was Risteard Sorley, Head of House Sorley.

Flanked on his sides were Knights of his choosing, each more heavily armored then most other Knights you have come across, with jagged, black helmets concealing their faces. Their abnormally large horns jutted from the tops of their helms, glowing a faint sickly green as their weapons were levitated at their sides.

Risteard gave you and your companions a look, sizing you up, as you stood to face each other.

"So, the Breag Naofa still lives," He said in low ton, devoid of any empathy or compassion," Word is that you fell in battle."

"I'm still very much alive," You retort," And we come with grim news."

"Oh? Do you intend to sack my city again, Anonymous? I would advise a bigger host with you next time."

You feel your jaw clench at the insult, suppressing an urge unsheathe your sword and ram it through his goddamn skull.

"Its not me that may besiege your city, Sorley," You reply with a tight grimace, causing Risteard to cock an eyebrow at you in confusion.

"And who may be laying siege to my city?" He asked, a curious tone in his voice.

"The Bossk, due to the shit plan that you and the War Council concocted. We're here to collect our wounded, and see that this city isn't set ablaze again."

On that note, you brush past the Commander of Fort Heshen, leaving him in a stunned silence, as your companions follow behind you. There were wounded to attend to, plans to formulate, and Queen you needed to get in contact with.

Author's Note

Already working on the next chapter, which should be twice as long as this one, as well as finally introduce Celestia. Next chapter should come out this week, as well as an upate for Black Tar and The House of Sleep