“We’re running thin on reserves, General. If this continues on, we’ll be bled dry of mana before the gilded comes.”
Mana.
In this world, there are three absolutes.
Mana, Flesh, and Bone.
Mana is omnipresent in the living realm. It flies in the air, breathes in the water, dances in the flames, and flows in the veins. In essence, it is movement, and everything related so is mana. Quite the opposite of Bone, one that forms the unmoving, the stoic, yet bound to it the most.
All three absolutes combine to form life.
Mana, lifeblood to all, powers the wills and sinews destined to shape the world. Be it the smallest worm to the largest warrior, they are all vessels to this resource. As opposed to the natural magic ever-present in the environment, the mana of the living is unique. One’s power and reserve entirely depend on size. Seemingly, as punishment for this hubris, nature has made its needs equal to its strength. The more mana one has, the greater the fuel needed to keep it alive.
Fuel they did not have.
“Fine,” the massive knight grumbled at the squirt of a mage before him, his eyes like daggers and arms crossed. “Take my rations and potions, and divide it amongst yourselves.”
The robed lad gulped, a finger raised in protest. “But what about you, Hael-”
“Am I not understood? I will be fine, soldier. Now go.”
Rex watched, unmoving, as they scurried into the nearest bush and presumably back to the main camp. Left once again with his thoughts, with the crackling campfire and its warmth. The falling sun clouded the horizon in orange, but winter was harsh, and the cold wind gnawed against his skin without mercy.
And as the sky’s light prepared for its rest, only one thought remained.
He will not be fine.
Sadly, his men weren’t far off. The sieges to Vanacia’s outer towns were easy pickings. But now, up against the main city, they stood unable to even breach its magic barrier. Fattened with gold and steel but, just like the villages at its borders, lacked food. Their stock was wrung dry long ago, and now they barely live off meager portions. The skirmishes have done nothing but waste resources, and while the enemy slept peacefully into the night, they withered and succumbed outside their walls to time.
Despite this, the Company of New Kings refused to falter. The men and women, despite his orders, stayed.
So be it. He had given up his supper to the fools. Enough food to last ten days if used wisely. Enough to last them until the golden opportunity showed itself, he hoped.
And him, running on fumes?
He will survive. If not for himself, then for those stupid soldiers of his. He promised himself that much.
Gritting his teeth, Rex stood and marched towards the forest nearby. Adamant to test his luck perhaps, or to challenge fate itself.
Vanacia’s land is said to be rich with herbs and rare game. So, should he be lucky, enough scrounging about should net him a supple meal of wild game and herbs hidden in snow.
Luck and Fate seemed to be against him today.
He clambered through the woods like a court jester with two left feet, his massive metal armor catching branches and uprooting trees cursed enough to be tripped on. The steel, misshapen from countless battles, groaned with every little movement he made, sending any animal scurrying away before he spotted them. The hunt was against him, but without a choice, he trudged on.
Time was quick to fade, and with only a handful of sunlight left, the search comes to a close.
Well, a shadow of a hunt. His lumbering three hundred kilograms heavy dumbass woke every being in the vicinity, and his dumb fuckin’ boots crushed whatever herb he found past usefulness.
Still, nature is a bountiful and merciful mistress, and he netted himself one lone rabbit and a handful of leaves he hoped were edible.
Barely a meal, but it will have to do.
Moving quickly, he retraced the path of broken and uprooted twigs, returning to camp with nature’s boon in hand. In haste, he rigged up a makeshift spit over his still-burning campfire comprising his helmet as the pot, dumped in with what he hoped was leftover tea, and dropped in his ingredients right after.
Filled with hope, he waited, the soup kept under his watchful eye as it bubbled over the blue flame-
“Yo, Rexxy!” A voice called out from the bushes, sending him flinching.
The knight-turned-cook jumped from his seat, one hand shooting up to hide his face as another stirred the concoction. A cackle accompanied the mighty smack resonating from his forehead and into the fading afternoon glow. Rex let out a grumble as he rubbed his sore noggin’, refusing to avert his gaze from the pot of boiling nothings.
Not that he needed to look to recognize the visitor. Only a handful of people laughed in his face and were allowed to live, but only one had such a guffaw unfit for their stature.
“Witch of the Wastes, what brings you here?” He says to his right-hand maiden and apprentice in training.
“Two things.” The mage, at his words, crossed her arms and let out a sigh. “One, it’s Xasne, please stop speaking like an edgelord. And two, I smelt something a-brewing.”
She hopped to his side with giddy excitement, licking her lips as she sat right next to him.
Even without looking, he somehow knew she was beaming underneath that robe of hers, an ability he wished he didn’t have. Oh, the things he’d pay to wipe that smug face from his head. Rex always found it strange that she, out of all people, stuck to memory, an honor he rarely gave. Perhaps her frequent pestering had broken him, and here he is, a shattered King Slayer who felt weird around a woman with no concept of personal space.
Peace had settled in as the moon greeted them. A surprise as he had her as company. Only the sounds of bubbling slop and metal stirring met the ears, and he hoped it stayed that way.
“Can I have some?” Xasne said as she stared wide-eyed into his meal.
Ah, there it is. A part of him wished he stayed at home instead of conquering the country, as the thought of spending another grinding minute with the woman felt worse than death.
Rex, frowning, raised a brow as he looked at her in the eye. “Why do you find it worthwhile to pester me?”
“Afraid that your cooking sucks?” Xasne smirked, adamant about pushing this button.
“Leave me be. You’ve eaten. Go rest.”
It was weird that he expected a friendly yet rather powerful punch to meet his ribs at his dismissal, which made it all the weirder when it did not. Instead, her eyes avert their gaze, her hands patting a stomach that rumbled a tad too loudly.
“Did you…”
“Bet all my food to our Oracle and lose? Yeah.” She scowled in mock-anger, pulling out a bowl from within her robes right after and waving it right at him. “Now gimme.“
“You came prepared.”
Rolling his eyes, he poured her a serving before him, grumbling a prayer to whoever was watching before blowing the steaming soup he held in his hands.
And yet, he couldn’t eat. Very rarely does he share his cooking. Ever so curious, he glanced at her, watching as subtle as he could.
She happily ate it all up, much to his pleasant surprise.
With a satisfied smile, she pushed the bow towards him. “More, please.”
Rex obliged.
He looked down at the bowl in his hands. At the pieces of rabbit and leaves and what might be gravel. If she liked it, then it couldn’t be that bad. With a growing warmth in his chest, he bottoms up with pride.
And today, pride fell the giant.
A groan escaped his lips as soon as it hit his tongue, and he had to force a colorful party down his throat. His body shivered, rejecting his attempt in poisoning himself with all its might. But alas, his will won and it sunk.
The effect was instantaneous the moment it hit his belly. He felt his stomach lurch. Vertigo struck as nausea came over him, followed by a pounding against his skull.
Coughing into his hand, he turned to his companion with shame in his eyes. “Witch of the Wastes, you should just eat with the men tonight-”
Only to find her downing a second bowl.
She looked up, smile weak and body shivering, her bowl once more raised.
“Two things.” Biting back a cough, she flashed him a confident grin. “One, it’s Xasne, and two, give me another.”
He stared at her, confused, and yet she beamed brighter.
For it was there, underneath the golden moon, that Rex shared his first smile.
