“Forget it. I shouldn’t have asked such a thing,” Tucker muttered. He took a deep breath before running his hands through his hair and gazing at the ground.

  The veteran let out a dry cough to clear his throat. “No worries, kid. Now, let’s avoid topics like that in the future.” Alex reached under his bed to recover his belongings. He popped open his pouch, retrieved three cigars, and held them for the other two to see.

  Seeing the cigars, Tucker shook his head. “I’ll pass.”

  “Well, if the rookie doesn’t want it, then I suppose I’ll take you on your kind offer,” Blaire said as he held out his hand. “He should learn to adapt and enjoy life while he can. Most of us don’t live long in this field, well, except for the lucky few.”

  Alex stared at Blaire with indifference as he flicked the cigar over. As it arced through the air, Tucker instinctively pointed at it with his index finger, guiding it with a faint gust of wind and into Blaire’s hand.

  “That doesn’t mean we should change how we live our lives,” Tucker said.

  “Oh, but it does. It dictates the very nature of our occupation,” Blaire said with a distant gleam in his eyes. He twirled the cigar between his fingers before finally pointing it at Tucker. “We’re watchmen. The work we do has a greater impact than one would expect. Isn’t that right, Salamander?”

  Alex shot a glance at Blaire but soon gave a slow nod. “That’s correct.”

  “See?” Blaire pointed his cigar at Alex and gave a subtle nod to prove his point. “If you’re a watchman, you need to adapt. It’s the nature of our work.”

  Tucker’s expression hardened. “Yes... but that's regarding missions. Surely some things stay the same, right?”

  “Not if they don’t align with the Order,” Blaire countered, quickly cutting him off. He leaned forward and sat with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the side of the bed. “Come on, you should know this by now. You’re a rookie that’s been working with Salamander for how long? Weeks? Months?”

  Tucker kept quiet, listening to Blaire's rant with each word hammering against his convictions.

  “Well, no matter; that’s beside the point.” Blaire waved his hand in the air. “What I’m getting at is that you’re good enough to be on tier-five missions, but what you lack is the resolve to fulfill your duties.” He held his index finger near the end of the cigar. "If we're at war, you need to prepare yourself to do things that others won't."

  Tucker’s eyes narrowed as a magic circle formed at the end of Blaire’s finger. It was a simple design with no outer rings and a single word that spelled out ignire. Yet what caught his attention wasn’t the fancy gesture but the hint of bitterness hidden behind Blaire’s words.

  “What does that mean?” Tucker asked.

  “He’s saying you’re soft Tucker,” Alex replied, staring at the cigar in his hands before tucking it into his pocket.

  “Exactly,” Blaire said, triggering the magic circle with a flicker of mana. The characters in the center overlapped with each other. Lighting the end of the cigar as a swirl of smoke drifted into the air. “It’s my advice to you because you saved my life. I know Salamander wouldn’t tell you such things, but it’s better to prepare yourself now than later.”

  Tucker scoffed, dropping his gaze to his hands as he tightly clenched them. “So what exactly are you trying to say?”

  “I’m saying that you shouldn’t think so much about unnecessary shit.” Blaire took a puff of the cigar before allowing the smoke to escape through his lips. Filling the air with an acrid scent as the smoke curled into the air. “Stop thinking so much about what we do and just follow your orders. We don’t need fucking heroes. We need people who can perform.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we can just kill whoever,” Tucker shot back. “If we just kill everyone we see, then we’re no better than savages.”

  “Savages?” Blaire raised a brow, smirking as the ashes fell onto his white garment. “So? What’s your point?”

  “My point is that there has to be a limit. If we just kill whoever indiscriminately, then we’re no better than the Empire.”

  A flicker of a smile tugged on the corners of Blaire’s lips. “We’ve never been better than the Empire.”

  The bluntness from Blaire caught Tucker off guard, leaving him speechless for a moment. But soon, he couldn’t help but shake his head. Although he wanted to disagree, a part of him knew Blaire was right. The Order had a history buried deep within the darkest confines of the Kingdom. One that he only scratched the surface of.

  “We need to be calculative and resourceful. It’s the only way we’ll win against the Empire,” said Blaire with a bitter expression. Watching as the cigar burned closer to his fingers. “Otherwise, we’ll find ourselves cornered and, quite frankly, fucked.”

  “Then how many would need to die?” Tucker asked.

  “As many as needed.”

  Tucker’s lips tightened into a grim line as he stared at Blaire. “If we just kill whoever is on the Empire’s side, then nothing will change. Our peace would be artificial, and it’ll only lead to more bloodshed and our people clawing at each other's throats.”

  “That’s right, but there’s no such thing as eternal peace. The only reason our peace lasted so long is because of our actions in the previous war.”

  “You don’t mean…”

  “I do. By destroying the villages on the borders of the Empire, we managed to buy nearly sixty years of peace.”

  Tucker tightly clenched onto the bedsheets, his frown deepening. He shook his head and stared at Blaire. “So, what are you saying? That we should do the same thing this time as well?”

  “If it means we win the war and buy more time for our people.” Blaire released a bitter chuckle devoid of warmth. “Then yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. The life of a stranger means nothing to me.”

  Bullshit.

  The words spoken by Blaire echoed in Tucker’s mind like an unwelcome guest. He knew that watchmen still had a very different ideology than him, but to see how many of his comrades were on a different path was beyond disheartening. Secretly, he had hoped Owl was like Alex—a man of conviction and someone who understood the weight of morality, but after their brief conversation, that wasn’t the case. He drew a line for himself with his morals. Setting the standard, the barrier that would protect his conscience. However, not everyone did the same, and soon, a gripping thought gnawed at his mind.

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  Would he be able to turn a blind eye to the actions of his comrades?

  The reality of the war wrapped around him. It was us versus them, and he could control his actions but not those around him. His heart wavered, trembling at the wall he came to face. If he stood by and allowed something he knew was wrong to happen—if he chose to look away from the tragedy unfolding before him—then how would he be any different from those who smeared the line in blood?

  Before his mind could wander further and trace the possible outcomes, a creaking sound broke his concentration. Tucker’s gaze rose, focusing on the wooden door that slowly eased open. Soon, he saw a dwarf peer through the narrow gap between the door and the wall. Their brown hair and braided beard sticking out from the crevice.

  “Oi, da hell is that smell? Are ya fellas smoking in here?” Ofnir asked, marching into the room. The sound of something creaking followed closely behind. Yet once he entered, the dwarf raised a brow upon sensing the tense atmosphere in the room. “Is… this a bad time?”

  “Not at all old friend,” Alex replied, gesturing for Ofnir to come in.

  Ofnir dragged behind him a wooden chair with two large wheels on the side. “I came back 'cause I had something for ya, little rookie.”

  “A wheelchair?” Tucker asked.

  “Aye, it won’t do ya any good to walk on those legs before a priest takes a peek.” Ofnir glanced at Alex, who motioned at Tucker. “Neither would it be good for a young lad such as yourself to stay in this dastardly room.”

  “Ah no, I’m okay—”

  “Shhh…” Ofnir gently lifted Tucker like a sack of vegetables over his shoulder and threw him in the wheelchair, causing his face to twist in pain. Then he reached under the bed and took Tucker’s belongings, throwing them onto his lap as well. “When ya two are rested, you’re free to come join us at the teleportation device.”

  “Will do.” Alex nodded and waited until they had left. Once the door was fully closed, he turned towards Blaire.

  “I don’t like him, Salamander,” Blaire stated.

  “I can tell,” Alex replied.

  “He’s too green and na?ve.”

  “I know, but he’s gotten better.”

  “It’s a mistake for him to be doing missions with others of our rank. He should be on the front lines like the rest of the rookies, acting as scouts for the army.”

  “You forget that if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be with us.”

  Blaire fell silent before holding the cigar to his lips. With a deep inhale, the embers at the end glowed. "You have a point there, but that doesn’t change my opinion. He needs to understand that having a good heart isn’t enough to win wars. It never has been.”

  “I know, but it’s not just about having their heart in the right place, Blaire. It’s about believing in what you’re doing that’s right and having the decency to follow those beliefs.”

  “Those beliefs only weigh you down like shackles,” Blaire retorted.

  “Perhaps, but it’s the only notion that separates us from our foes.”

  The silence that fell after Alex uttered his last words caused Blaire to sigh. Finding the balance between morality and necessity was always a difficult topic. But Blaire couldn’t find it within himself to see past his disdain and hatred. The Empire planned another war against them. They were the victims of the Empire’s self-righteous crusade, and now he was told they needed to find it in themselves to be lenient? Bullshit.

  .

  .

  .

  “Well lad, it seems ya three are doing good,” Ofnir said, pushing Tucker down the hall and through the stone halls.

  “I’m not sure if doing good is the right word.” Tucker stared at the dwarves as they made their way out of the clearing.

  Before them were hundreds of dwarves heavily fortifying the inner perimeters of the stronghold. Hammering away at the steel bolts that held numerous large elder wood barricades together. Each plank glowed with a dim blue light as mana coursed through the timber. While forges roared to life once more. The flames danced as ember spirits flew in the air, assisting the dwarven blacksmiths and engineers in their masterful creations. Each furnace radiated an intense heat that Tucker could feel on his skin, even though they were several meters away.

  Tucker listened as the hissing of oil filled his ears. Bubbling as the scorching hot blades fell into the stone basins, rapidly cooling the metal. The dwarf held the tongs upwards after quenching the blade and bitterly cursed before setting it aside.

  “As ya can see, we’re in the process of arming ourselves after hearing of your encounter,” Ofnir said, wheeling Tucker towards the platform.

  “Yeah… I didn’t expect you guys to take us seriously.” Tucker held back his bewilderment. His brown eyes trailing upwards. “I see you also have more anvils now too.”

  “Ya never know, it could come in handy.”

  “True, it wouldn’t hurt to have more, but it feels pretty safe here with you and Fargrim protecting the stronghold.”

  “Nay, not safe enough if ya ask me. Take a peek to ya left.”

  Ofnir pointed at a group of muscular dwarves standing by with their rune-engraved helmets covering the majority of their heads except for the area where their beards freely dangled. The interlocking plates on their bodies, along with thick chain mail to protect the vital gaps between their armor, was a sight to behold. But what was even more impressive was that their weapons seemed to radiate a powerful aura that shook the very ground.

  From afar, Tucker couldn’t make out the finer details of their gear, but once he was close. His eyes widened in shock. The azure ribbons with the scarlet seals that were stamped to the shoulder pads of their armor were the exact same as the ones Ofnir and Fargrim wore.

  The eight dwarves in front of him were all Oathguards. Which meant that they were all as strong or stronger than the two Oathguards he knew. It was something Tucker didn’t expect in the slightest.

  “I see you’re surprised, but it’s the bare minimum amount the Lord of the Dwarven realms could send that out.” Ofnir continued pushing Tucker to the teleportation device but soon stopped by a table with several small stones. “I thought about what could help ya lads if a demon appeared again and came up with a nifty idea.” He grabbed a few rune stones with a glyph of an “E” that had an accent striking through the center.

  “This is…”

  “It’s an earth rune, one we used to create walls. A few of these in your arsenal would do wonders, I tell ya.”

  “But is it alright for you to give this to me?” Tucker asked.

  Ofnir let out a heartfelt laugh and smacked Tucker’s shoulder before dropping his expression. “Probably not. Just don't let Fargrim know. He’ll give me an earful if ya do.”

  “Thanks for this gift. I’ll make sure to cherish it.” Tucker held onto the runes and carefully placed them into his pouch. He then stopped for a moment and looked upwards. “How do I activate these?”

  “Ya just need to put a bit of mana in it and toss it on the ground. After a second or two, da ground will shake, and then ya got yourself a new set of walls.” Ofnir wheeled Tucker further down towards the closed gates that led to the teleportation platform and stopped. “Ahem…”

  Tucker glanced back at Ofnir, who let out a dry cough. “Yes?”

  “I don’t want to be nosy or anything, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with da others. The door doesn’t block sound that well.”

  “Ah, that’s fine. It isn’t a big deal if you heard what we were talking about. We weren’t discussing anything important.”

  “Mayhaps, but I just wanted to say that I believe you’re on the right path.”

  “I’m on the right path?”

  “Aye, ya have a heart of gold lad. It’s rare nowadays but a noteworthy trait if ya ask me.”

  Tucker's lips curled upwards, revealing a faint smile as he heard Ofnir’s words. He gave a subtle nod before staring at the gates. “Has there been any new developments with the teleportation device and the demon?”

  “Nada, but if there was, I hope we’ll be able to use it against them. Maybe invade them instead.”

  “That’s a bit dangerous, don’t you think?”

  Ofnir held out his chest and grinned. “Not for us mighty dwarfs!”

  The sound of laughter drew Tucker’s attention as the guards stationed at the platform cheered in admiration for Ofnir’s bravery. Yet, as Tucker forced himself to smile, he felt a heaviness grab hold of his heart. His gaze fell to the stone tiles beneath him. Soon, they would be back at the Order, and within days, he would have to begin treatment to mend his broken legs. He had a trace of doubt in his mind that it would be enough—enough to heal his body and perhaps his thoughts.

  But even as he tried to focus on the camaraderie surrounding him. The sight of the demon clawing its way back towards them flashed through his mind. Its dastardly grin and violet eyes pierced straight through his soul as if it was eagerly waiting. Waiting for them to meet again and the sheer helplessness Tucker felt after facing it felt suffocating. Yet, amidst the fear and despair, something else stirred inside of him. A surge of anger grew. One that burned in his heart like an unyielding flame that refused to die out. This feeling, this fire, wasn’t just anger. It was resolve forged through the heat of endurance and pain. One that resonated with the souls of every dwarf in the stronghold and if there was one thing he was certain about. It was that the next time they met, he would kill it.