Hazelmere didn’t leave her tent for three days. She didn’t talk with anyone, and no one bothered her in turn. Even the few attendants she had with her said nothing, they did their duties without intruding at all. They realized something was terribly wrong and knew better than to stick their noses in their lord’s business, like all the wise servants.

On the fourth day, she heard Heartwell calling from the outside of the tent:

“May I come in?” His voice was as confident as ever.

“You may.”

He entered the tent slowly. Hazelmere sat on her bed, her head looking slightly down, deeply lost in thought as she absent-mindedly played with her thumbs.

“Your mage had three days to escape. I think it’s wise to assume the worst now.”

Hazelmere nodded her head quietly without looking at him.

“I’ll give the order to set all kinds of traps at the dungeon’s entrance like we agreed. Is that ok with you?”

Hazelmere nodded once again, making Heartwell frown slightly.

“What about the letter to his majesty? Have you sent it?”

“Mizette gave the letter to the courier. It is on the way to the palace,” her voice was very quiet.

“Why Mizette? Why not you?”

There was a short pause before Hazelmere answered: “Because she wrote it.”

“But you were there when she was writing it, right? You told her what to write?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Shaky hands?”

Hazelmere stopped playing with her thumbs instantly.

Heartwell let the awkward silence dominate the tent for a while, before sitting on the opposite side of the bed, making it squeak a bit. Both of them looked ahead of them instead of looking at each other.

“They didn’t prepare you for this, didn’t they?”

Hazelmere kept quiet.

“Nobody prepared me either. However, unlike you, I didn’t really have a choice. At least you did it of your own will.”

Heartwell noticed Hazelmere clenching her hands tight.

“In my mind, that makes you braver than I was. If I was in your place, in your shoes, I don’t think I’d have the bravery to make that call.”

“Or, rather, the foolishness,” Hazelmere’s voice had a lot of spite in it, but Heartwell knew it wasn’t directed at him.

“Why? Is it because you’ve disregarded their complaints?”

“I thought I was smarter than anyone. I allowed my rank to get the better of me. And that got many people killed. Oh, by the way …”

She turned her head towards Heartwell, but this time he was the one ignoring her.

“… didn’t you say it was a good idea? How can you say you wouldn’t have the bravery to do it when you have supported my idea from the start?”

“Are you blaming me for what has happened?” There was no edge in his voice at all.

Hazelmere stared at him for a few moments before turning her head away: “No, I don’t. This is all my fault. I said I will take full responsibility, and that is what I am going to do.”

Heartwell nodded his head slightly, with a satisfied look on his face: “That’s good, that’s how a leader should act. And let me clarify something: the current me thinks your idea is the best thing you could’ve done, even with it turning out the way it did. I was talking about me from a few dozen years ago.”

“That sounds too complicated. I don’t want to think right now.”

“Then I’ll make it short. It’s easy for me to make such a call now, when I have plenty of experience to rely on. But, if I were in your place, if I were given the task of such a magnitude without having any experience at all, I’d be too terrified to do anything.”

Hazelmere let out a very unladylike grunt: “A soldier saying he is terrified … that’s new.”

“I have no issues facing my shortcomings, current or past. And fear is a natural thing, the gods gave it to us for a good reason. Fear, for all of its many flaws, is doing a great job of keeping us away from harm.”

“Aren’t you soldiers big on how brave you are? From what I have heard in this short time, I would say you guys are more concerned with how brave you are than with the size of your dicks. Until now, I thought that is what concerns males the most but, to my shock, your soldiers are much more interested in showing off their bravery.”

“Yes, we are. You could even say we’re obsessed with it, and for a good reason. We know what it takes to be brave.”

“And what does it take?”

“Experience. And that’s all there is to it. Nobody was born brave. People become brave through experience, through overcoming bad odds, facing uncertainties. We all love thinking ourselves to be brave, we all love thinking we’ll do the right thing when it matters, but that only lasts until we’re called upon to act bravely. Then, most of us choose to turn our heads in the other direction, saying: it’s none of my business. We make all kinds of convenient excuses to explain our inaction. But, the more you turn your head away, the more tired of it you become, until it becomes impossible for you to ignore it anymore.”

“That’s the worst attempt at explaining bravery I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s why your hands can’t stop shaking, and that’s why mine couldn’t either. It was the same with all of my soldiers. That’s just how the gods have made us. But, the more experienced you’re at it, the easier it becomes. Like in all other things, the first time is the hardest.”

“You’re talking as if bravery can be learned.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to say. A few decades ago, there was no way I’d be able to make the call you had to make, but now … I can make it without even blinking. The more tough decisions you’re forced to make, the easier it becomes to make them.”

“But I didn’t do it because I was brave, I … I just didn’t want to be manipulated … I was more concerned with acting on my own than with doing the right thing …”

“You think someone is trying to manipulate you?”

“… I shouldn’t be talking about this …”

“What, you think I’ll expose your secret?”

“…”

“Even if I did that, do you honestly think someone would believe a filthy peasant like me? Do you really think anyone would take my word over yours?”

That made Hazelmere chuckle slightly.

“I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

“You’re lost, it’s normal. You think I enjoy sending my people to their deaths? As I’ve said, the first time is the hardest. But the more you do it, the easier it becomes. After a thousand people lost, you’ll stop thinking about it and only focus on completing the objectives. Like a true leader should.”

“What, soullessness can be learned too?”

“I believe that everything can be learned.”

“Then, how come when I stub my toe on the edge of the table, it always hurts with the same intensity?”

That made Heartwell smile: “That’s pain, you can’t learn your sensations. You can’t learn pain, pleasure or hunger, or anything else that affects your body. But … the things that affect your soul …”

“Now, that sounds horrifying. You’re making it sound as if I’ll become soulless if I keep losing …”

That threw Hazelmere’s mind in deep thought.

“That’s the price of leadership,” Heartwell spoke, not noticing her absent expression, “people in our position have no choice but to sacrifice others to achieve the goals given to them. We get to be in a safer place than our subordinates, but that has to come at some cost. The way I see it, it’s only fair. Privileges should never come without responsibility. But yes, the more people you lose under your command, the more soulless you become. This may sound disturbing, but it’s quite liberating, actually. Life becomes much easier when you aren’t burdened by the soul and emotions. The reason is all you’ll ever need in your current station. And, looking at the way things are, it’s only going to get worse.”

That got Hazelmere’s attention back.

“Then, why did you come to my tent if not because of emotions? And here I thought you started caring about me,” she teased.

“I do care, but not emotionally. I care about you logically. I need you at your best, we all need you at your best. Our lives depend on it and, even though it’s deeply flawed, I enjoy my life and would like to continue living it. That’s why I need you to wisen up, so I’m trying to help. I know nothing about the magic, but I have some advice to give when it comes to leadership and commanding people.”

“Wisen up?” There was a hint of offense in Hazelmere’s voice.

“Yes. And you’re doing a good job. The one quality a leader must have is to accept the responsibilities for his or her actions. You passed that one test, at least. But, you’re still woefully inexperienced when it comes to leadership, that much is obvious, which is why I’m offering to help. A few moons ago, you used to be just yet another spoiled brat, a typical noble. But I must say that you’ve started developing some useful skills. After that last decision you’ve made, I realized there’s hope for you yet.”

“What are you talking about? It was a complete failure! We lost people, including our Empire’s best offensive mage, with nothing to show for it! Their deaths served no purpose!”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The outcome is completely irrelevant. What is important, much more than the lives of your subordinates, is that you’ve started acting like a leader and not as a puppet. And I don’t care about why or how you started acting like that, I want to see more of it. We need more of it. We need a single decision-maker, someone who will stand behind her decisions even when those decisions are wrong, instead of every mage trying to pull the others in the direction she wants us to go. We need a clear authority figure more than anything right now. I’m not saying you shouldn’t listen to your subordinates, I’m saying you must assert yourself as someone who has the final word. And it’s always better to do something, anything, even the wrong thing, than to sit idly by, doing nothing as the danger approaches. Yes, we did lose an important mage. But had you not have sent her to her death, we’d have no idea monsters are lurking beneath us. And, one day, they could’ve crawled out of their lair, catching us by surprise and slaughtering us all. Sending a few to their deaths has saved the rest of us.”

“Maybe … maybe not. Maybe those monsters would’ve never left the dungeon anyway.”

After a short pause, Heartwell stood up, away from the bed, and started moving slowly towards the exit.

“I’m not trying to discourage you or be mean. I’m just being honest with my superior when I say that there will be many more sacrifices you’ll have to make if you want to protect this world from whatever is lurking on the other side. Those war drums we keep hearing beyond the portal, those aren’t some mindless beasts. It’s inevitable that people will die, but whether their deaths are in vain or not is up to you. As long as you learn something from their deaths, and grow as a leader, their deaths weren’t in vain. Because the knowledge and the wisdom you gain from it will give you the tools to minimize deaths in the future and save others.”

He stood at the exit for a few moments. After seeing no reaction from Hazelmere, he continued.

“However, if you take a coward’s way out and start regretting things, then you’ll only repeat the same mistake again, and again, and again. Or even worse, be completely paralyzed every time you have to make a meaningful decision. And that’s not what being in charge of people’s lives is about. The truth is, you were lucky enough to get the best learning opportunity possible. Taking risks with the lives of a single legion and a few mages is much more preferable than taking risks with the entire armies or cities. Even if you lose all of us here, it won’t mean much in the long run. So, use this rare opportunity the gods have bestowed upon you as best as you can. If you don’t, you’ll certainly regret it.”

And with that, Heartwell left the tent.