If you have to have your life shut down by a global pandemic, you could do worse that to face the circumstances that Judith Hamann did in March 2020. The Australian-born cellist, who had spent the previous few years leading a peripatetic life that involved moving from one musical project to the next without a fixed address, had signed up for a three-month long artist’s residence sponsored by the Helsinki International Artist Programme (HIAP). So instead of being stuck on the road, she had a place to stay and a studio on Suomenlinna, an island mere minutes by ferry from downtown Helsinki, Finland.
Still, however fortunate Hamann was, she wasn’t free from the sorrow that overtook the world; she knew what was happening to people all over. Like so many other musicians, her schedule went from full to empty overnight. And as Finland locked down, there was no way for collaborators to join her. So, when the AMPLIFY 2020:quarantine festival invited her to contribute mere days after she arrived in Finland, Hamann went straight to work with the material at hand. She laid the sounds of her voice, cello, and feedback like thin strips of fabric stretched across field recordings of her drawing in her studio and the wind blowing across the island. That original piece, “Days collapse days collapse night,” imparted a sense of stillness that expressed the “everything’s stopped” tenor of the times. Another Timbre invited her to expand upon it, and that’s how Days Collapse came into being.
While the album is nearly five times the length of the original piece, it stays very close to its spirit. It is a collage of busy-ness and solitude, long tones and empty spaces, inside and outdoors. Sometimes there’s not much of Hamann in the sound. During the early minutes of “As with covering wings,” she threads barely-there filaments of feedback through a soundscape of birds carrying on their business and waves lapping in the distance. The way that the natural looms over puny human action recalls old Chinese ink and water landscapes. But then track upon track of her bowed cello slides over the field recordings, as if to acknowledge the impossibility of leaving well enough alone. That’s just not what humans do, right?
Somewhat by chance, Days collapse arrived as part of a sudden proliferation of Hamann recordings. Until recently, you could mostly hear her contributing parts to records by Oren Ambarchi and Graham Lambkin, or playing duets with fellow cellists Charles Curtis and Lori Goldston. But in the latter half of 2020, she released three other albums; a pair of solo performances on Blank Forms, and a more elaborate electro-acoustic construction on Black Truffle. Each is worth your time, but Days collapse is the one most strongly connected to the still-transpiring pandemic era.
How about the opening to the next chapter of my Voltron Thulaz AU I may never get back to at the rate I’m going
Thace followed along as Keith dragged Ulaz to the training grounds, the young Marmoran rather obviously trying to hide his sadness over his parents’ departure underneath a cheerful, excited grin. Though, since this was Keith and they were definitely headed toward the training grounds, his enthusiasm probably wasn’t entirely forced.
“You wanna spar?” Keith asked Ulaz when they arrived, hand wrapped around the hilt of the sword hanging across his back.
“You will need to lend me a blade,” Ulaz said, agreeing. “I’m afraid I left mine in my room.”
So since it’s taking me forfuckingever here is a snippet of the next chapter of Hopeless Isn’t A Place (also on ao3: I’m reysrose there-the website currently sucks.)
“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll ask, next time. Can I touch you?”
Rey nods, her eyes fluttering shut as Jess begins to shift her on the floor. There’s crusty dried blood all over her, and she’s practically naked and icy to touch. A swollen, angry knot rests on the crown of her head, burns and blisters are scattered across her torso, and her back is flayed open, covered in black and purple bruising. Her face doesn’t look much better than her back. Jess swallows a wave of nausea and rests Rey’s heavy head on her lap, feeling down her ribs. Nothing feels broken, thank the Maker.
“Snap, she needs clothes.”
Snap looks up from where he’s forcing a fever reducer down Poe’s throat. He takes in Rey, her blue lips, fingers, and toes, and swears.
“Fucking shit. We need to move, Jess. Get her up. Dameron, can you walk?”
AO3 | Thulaz + Arranged Marriage AU + historical fantasy
First - Next
Thace looked around, arms crossed over his chest, and inhaled.
The rooms were coming along nicely. The carpet was lush and absorbed the sound of hurried feet, thick curtains framed the wide windows in the parlor and the bathing chamber sparkled with gleaming tile and glass fixtures; the massive bed was draped in soft sheets and a down comforter, the walls were made of polished mahogany, and the entire suite was brightly lit with bronze lanterns and a flood of natural light.
Yet for all the finery, the suite was still casual and homey. Flannel throws lay haphazardly over the couches, books and scrolls rested on nearly every flat surface, the doors between the rooms hung open with boldfaced immodesty; there were already dirty clothes in the laundry from when Thace had spilled lamp oil on his shirt two days ago, and so many people had been coming in and out as they rushed to prepare everything that the new, stale scent of an unused chamber had already dissipated.
There was nothing personal here, yet, it wasn’t lived in. But it looked like it could be. Like maybe, if he kept the right attitude, someday it could be home.
Or, one of two, at least.
“It’s coming along rather quickly, isn’t it?” Lotor murmured, echoing Thace’s thoughts as he stepped up beside him and took in the bustle of servants ensuring all was fit for a noble. “How are you liking it so far?”
“Your husband has good taste,” Thace said. “I’m glad you pointed me his way, I would have ended up hiring a designer if left on my own.”
Lotor laughed. “Well I could hardly leave you on your own when you looked so distressed at the mere thought of picking out curtains. Besides, Shiro finds a strange sense of pleasure in making a house into a home.” He grinned, voice softening with fond amusement. “He took one look at our suite on our wedding night and vowed he wouldn’t spend a single hour in such a cold, ostentatious room. Thankfully my old suite was still untouched and we were able to stay there until he’d renovated the entire wing to his preferences.”
Thace chuckled, imagining the Prince Consort looking around the grandest rooms the palace could offer with blatant disdain. “That sounds like him.”
Silence settled between them, comfortable and familiar, and Thace felt some of the tension and worry tumbling inside him ease.
“I know these are not the most ideal of circumstances for you to enter a marriage,” Lotor said, soft and unobtrusive, “but I am grateful to you. I want you to know that.”
Thace’s gaze slid over to him and he gave a slow nod. “I know.”
Lotor heaved a sigh, eyes closing. “I wish you could have been with someone you loved. I wish there were someone else I could have asked.”
Thace turned back to the activity around them, watching as the suite for him and his future husband came together into something liveable, but grand and respectable enough for a pair of Ambassadors - for a decorated Commander of the mightiest Empire in the world and for one of the greatest soldiers of the most formidable army that had been seen in centuries. This was never where he would have expected his life to lead, never a choice he thought he would have to make, but… “If this is the price of peace, of stability for the Empire and for our men to be able to go home,” Thace said, his own resolve strengthening just from saying the words out loud, “then it is a low price. I am more than willing to pay it.”
He could see Lotor’s brow furrowing from the corner of his eye, pinched with thought and concern. “The Premier has assured me that his cousin is approaching this with maturity and optimism. He wants this to work, not just for the sake of diplomacy, but for the two of you as well.”
Thace nodded, waiting, recognizing by the look on Lotor’s face that he was sorting through his thoughts as he spoke.
“I believe that, at the very least, this marriage will be a comfortable one,” Lotor said slowly, carefully, the lines on his face easing back into the neutral expression he always wore. “But…” he flicked a glance over at Thace. “But I hope for your sake that it can be more than that.”
Thace’s eyes burned and he blinked to clear it away, giving Lotor a brief nod in thanks for his rare display of honest care. “I do as well.”
The silence returned for a long moment before Lotor drew himself up, squaring his shoulders into the proud set of an emperor. “They’ll be arriving soon; we should go.”
Thace took a minute to settle his own nerves, rearranging his emotions into something orderly and composed, and then gestured for his liege to lead the way.
~~~
The Prince Consort and a posse of servants and nobles were all gathered at the foot of the palace steps, guards lining the walkway all the way to the gates at regular intervals. It was a formal gesture, though not overly ostentatious; all the pomp was being saved for the wedding.
Lotor headed straight for his husband, bending to place a kiss on his forehead and wrap his arm around Shiro’s waist. Thace found an empty space on the fringes, clasping his hands tightly behind his back to hide the way they’d started shaking.
The retinue from Marmora arrived less than twenty minutes later. Thace heard the echo of the cry to open the gate and watched the massive doors swing open, letting in a line of coaches, guards, and a supply wagon. As soon as the horses had come to a halt, the door of the head coach swung open and Ezor leapt out, dancing over to Lotor and giving a cheery salute in greeting.
Thace’s eyes went back to the carriage as the Premier and his husband stepped out, tugging at the hems of their clothes and blinking in the bright sunlight. The last person to climb down was unfamiliar, but Thace assumed him to be Ulaz and took the chance to look him over uninterrupted.
He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either - right in the range of average - and his movements were graceful as he stepped through the doorway and onto the ground. He was built like a soldier, lithe and strong with broad shoulders and a trim waist. His hair was worn in the fashion of most Marmoran officers - shaved clean on the sides - with his particular style being a narrow strip left along his crown, the white strands tied off in a long tail that hung down to his shoulder blades. He had a strong jaw and a severe face, not angry but solemn and serious. He was handsome.
Lotor greeted Kolivan and Thace, fist over his heart, as the Marmorans mirrored him with flat palms and shallow bows. “Welcome to Daibazaal,” he said, grand and formal.
Kolivan nodded, hands folding behind his back in the rigid posture of all military men. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We appreciate the hospitality.”
Lotor shook his head. “Not at all. Please, let me introduce you to everyone.” He snaked an arm around Shiro’s waist and gestured wide with the other. “This is my husband, Takashi Shirogane.”
“You can just call me Shiro,” Shiro said, a friendly smile gracing his face as he clasped forearms with all three Marmorans.
They murmured their greetings in return and followed along politely as Lotor lead them down the line of the gathered nobles who were deemed important enough to require introductions right away. The head of the palace staff was there too, promising that all of his people would be more than pleased to take care of any and every need the guests may have during their stay, already doling out orders to a few of the servants to begin collecting the luggage to stow in the prepared rooms.
Finally, lastly, they came to Thace.
His hands were sweating, wedged in a tangled knot at the small of his back, but his voice was steady and calm. “I’m Thace,” he said, holding his hand out for Ulaz before anyone else. In any other situation it would have been impolite to skip over the Premier, but everyone knew that this was the only reason Thace was here at all; this was the meeting that mattered.
Ulaz grasped his forearm firmly, the palm of his hand warm on Thace’s skin even through the layer of his shirt. “I am Ulaz,” he said. His voice was accented slightly, a little different from the Premier’s own, but it was also low and smooth and rich, as firm as ice and as gentle as a flowing stream. Thace could write odes to his voice.
Their hands stayed clasped for a long moment, gazes roaming over each other with unashamed curiosity, and Thace was positive he saw a spark of appreciation in Ulaz’s eyes. If he was even half as pleased with Thace’s first impression as Thace was with his then maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Lotor clapped his hands together once, breaking the spell, and Thace turned to him, dropping Ulaz’s hand. “Well, now that that’s taken care of how about we get the three of you settled in your rooms? I’m sure you would like a few hours to rest and clean up before the evening meal.”
Shiro came forward and swept his arm out toward the palace entrance. “If you’ll come with me I can show you the way.” The Marmorans followed after him, Shiro’s polite tone dwindling away as they headed up the steps.
Thace watched them go, eyes drawn to the broad expanse of a particular back and shoulders and wondering if they were as firm and strong as they looked.
Lotor stepped up beside him and Thace glanced over to see he had a brow raised in question. “So, what do you think?” Lotor asked.
Thace mulled it over for a second, turning his gaze forward again. “I have no complaints so far,” he managed, cheeks feeling a bit warm.
Summary: Daibazaal and Marmora are at war, a battle for land and resources that has stood at a stalemate for years with no end in sight. But then, the Galra Emperor comes forward with a request to negotiate a treaty. He wishes for their nations to be at peace and proposes a marriage of their two peoples to help encourage the bonds of friendship. Commander Thace, a trusted and valuable military leader of the Empire, and the cousin of Marmora’s Premier, General Ulaz, will suit just fine.
Next
~~~
“Get down!” Ulaz yanked on the back of the soldier’s collar and dragged him to the ground. There was a blast of shrapnel and heat as he curled over the man’s head and closed his eyes. The energy sent a shiver down the back of his neck, standing the fine hairs on end and carrying the heavy, pungent stench of concentrated quintessence. The spell’s energy started to die, the sour smell coagulating in the rivers of mud and icy slush squelching beneath his boots and leaving behind the tang of damp earth and sweat. Ulaz straightened, gaze flitting over the soldier with concern. “Are you injured?”
The soldier shook his head and offered a weary smile. “I’m unharmed. Thank you.”
Ulaz nodded and turned back to the field. Through the settling dust, he could see a couple of druids lurking among the boulders and jagged tree stumps that littered the plain. The foot soldiers seemed to be staying in their trenches, hiding behind earthen barriers and letting the magic users do all the work. They’d done the same for weeks, now, like they’d lost all previous ambition for victory.
Perhaps there was still a bit of chaos from the change in leadership; perhaps the new Emperor was simply biding his time.
The former Emperor’s abdication had caught everyone by surprise. He’d spent the entirety of his reign carrying on the Galran tradition of war and conquest with ruthless enthusiasm, his massive army descending like a plague of locusts on every land they bordered without mercy, only to relinquish the throne with no fanfare less than a month ago. Whatever his reasons, the rumors and speculation had not reached Marmora yet and in the quiet that followed the official news even the Empire had begun to reveal a weariness over all the fighting.
A bolt of violet lightning shattered the quiet and Ulaz jolted, ducking down into the trench and covering his head. Bits of earth rained down around him, pinging against his armor, followed by a wave of silence ringing over the desolate field. Ulaz rose cautiously, peering over the lip of the trench and blinking in surprise. The druids were creeping across the charred and barren battlefield, climbing back into their holes without a backward glance.
The sun had hardly passed its peak and they were already done for the day?
The strangeness of it put his senses on alert - no matter how weary the Empire appeared, they’d never failed to continue the farce of attempting until at least sunset. Ulaz’s gaze narrowed and he stood vigilant at the frontlines for another hour, watching and waiting for another attack.
It stayed quiet. No one appeared over the edge of the trenches and no magic arced across the field and, eventually, Ulaz heaved a sigh and straightened, sheathing his blade over his back. If the fighting picked up again someone would inform him.
He turned away from the battlefield and made his way through the trenches, hunting for any injured soldiers who may not have made their way to the infirmary yet. There were a half-a-dozen men with minor scrapes and burns that he stopped to treat, raiding the pack on his belt for salves and bandages and leaving them with instructions to stop by the medical tent in the morning for further healing if they needed it.
Half-way back to the tents he spotted a pair of men hobbling across the uneven ground, one of them with his arm slung over the other’s shoulder and an obvious limp slowing them down. Ulaz jogged over and slipped under his other arm, scanning for wounds. “What happened?”
The injured man’s companion - Retav, Ulaz thought - shook his head, lips tugging in a wry smile. “He leaped down into the trench like a moron and twisted his ankle. I told him to stop being so theatrical about it.”
The other grunted, brow pinched in discomfort and concentrating on moving his feet. “Yeah, yeah.”
Ulaz bit back a smile and silently helped him to the infirmary. He lowered the injured man onto a cot and sent his hovering companion off with a clap on the shoulder. “He’ll be stuck here for a day, at least, until his ankle is healed enough to walk with a crutch. Head back to your duties, we’ll take care of him from here.”
As soon as Retav had gone, Ulaz turned back to the patient and set about tending to the aching, inflamed joint with gentle, steady hands.
“Thanks, Doc,” the man said as Ulaz worked, lying back with a grunt.
Ulaz shook his head. “I’m not a doctor, but you are welcome.”
“No?” the soldier asked, eyebrow quirked in surprise. “Well, you’re in here so much I just figured you were in charge of the infirmary because of your training. Sir.”
Ulaz winced internally but kept his expression neutral. “My training is insufficient for such a title but, regardless, I consider it my duty to help out when I have the time.” He finished tying off the bandage - patting the soldier on his thigh in farewell - and straightened, taking a look around the infirmary. There were enough occupied beds that he let himself be drawn into making the rounds - checking vitals, dressing wounds, massaging aching joints and muscles, and hunting down extra blankets.
Most of the patients were bedridden from the cold - mild illness and frostbite - but there were few people like the man he’d brought in earlier with minor injuries from fighting or training, as well as a couple from boredom-induced antics. As much as the war had been draining, it was also incredibly monotonous and there were thousands of men crammed together with little to do between battles. It was inevitable that some of them would end up doing something stupid as a means of cheap entertainment.
It was easy to get swept up in the work, to let everything else drift away as he focused on taking care of people. Ulaz’s entire world narrowed down to the infirmary - there was always another patient, always another need - and everything outside of the medical tent was like misty dreams, forgotten the moment you open your eyes.
He was bent over someone’s arm checking a poultice when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He glanced up to see Antok gazing down at him, eyes swimming with gentle reprimand, and Ulaz looked around the room. The shadows in the corners had darkened, seeping across the floor and into the air, and the tent was dim with scattered lamplight. Through the open entrance the sky had turned black, not even a trace of light left outside aside from the torches and campfires, and, as if to emphasize how much time had passed, Ulaz’s stomach growled.
He groaned, running a hand down his face as the heaviness of his tired limbs set in; he’d lost track of time again. “Just... let me finish this row of patients?” he asked.
Antok frowned, the right side of his mouth matching the permanent downturn of the left. “Kolivan hasn’t seen you since the fighting started this morning,” he said. He’s worried about you, he didn’t add, but Ulaz heard it anyway.
He bit back a sigh, nodding; he should have known better than to get distracted without checking in first, both as a commander and as a friend. He waved Antok off with a promise to be quick and turned to clean up the scattered contents of his medical kit, taking it back to the appropriate shelf and scribbling a list of notes on the patients he’d treated for the nurses to look over.
Antok was waiting for him just outside the tent, arms crossed and hood raised against the cold, the thick length of his braid hanging over his chest. He tossed Ulaz a stale loaf and walked off toward the command sector without a second glance.
Ulaz fumbled with the bread and rushed to catch up with Antok’s steady, lumbering strides, chewing and swallowing a couple of bites before speaking. “It was harder to convince him to leave than you knew I would be, wasn’t it?”
Antok grunted and kept his gaze stubbornly forward, refusing to either confirm or deny.
Ulaz’s lips quirked in a smile. Kolivan’s own stubborn refusal to openly show concern for anyone had been a source of constant frustration to Antok for decades. The more he worried the harder his already stony countenance became, and yet he remained incapable of voicing his fears. Ulaz had learned a long time ago to quit trying to get him to change but Antok kept hoping.
They walked the rest of the way in silence as Ulaz ate his mediocre supper and Antok pretended he wasn’t pouting. Most of the men had started to retire for the night, dousing torches and turning the fires over to protect the glowing embers. Dull murmurs emanated from inside the tents as the soldiers readied for sleep, layering the ground beneath their bedrolls with heated rocks and lying back-to-back for warmth. The sky was clear, shimmering with stars, and Ulaz inhaled deeply, lungs burning from the crisp, cold air, and letting the quiet settle his lingering unease over the druid’s retreat earlier in the day.
All the officers’ tents were in the center of the camp, a giant network like a spoked wheel with Kolivan’s “office” as the central hub. A web of covered passages branched off from it in a half-moon to the other command tents and the officers’ quarters. The flaps were closed and the lights off in all but one of them, a soft glow coming through the walls of Kolivan’s complex. Antok lifted the entrance flap and they both ducked inside, letting the heavy canvas fall back into place behind them.
As Ulaz had expected, Kolivan was hunched over his desk with red eyes and tangled hair, surrounded by stacks of paper. He lifted his head when they came close, some of the tension in his shoulders draining away when he caught sight of Ulaz. “There you are,” he said, standing and making his way around the desk. He grabbed Ulaz’s shoulder with a firm grip, the wrinkling around his eyes speaking of worry despite his stern tone. “You didn’t come find me after the battle.”
Ulaz clasped Kolivan’s wrist and nodded. “I had to carry an injured soldier to the infirmary. I should have sent a message but I got distracted.”
Antok snorted. “Not surprising.”
Kolivan’s lips twitched but his gaze and his frown stayed on Ulaz. “I understand, but please try not to forget again.”
Ulaz nodded, guilt settling heavily in his gut. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. It was hard to remember that there were people worried about him when he was surrounded by the sick and injured. “You know I always do.”
Kolivan pulled him into a hug, pressing his cheek against Ulaz’s temple and sighing. “I know.”
Ulaz wrapped his arms around Kolivan’s back, letting the warmth ease some of the ache in his bones. “You should go to sleep,” he said, a low murmur that even Antok wouldn’t be able to hear. “Stop making your husband hunt me down for help.”
Kolivan cuffed him on the back of the head. “You’re one to talk.”
Ulaz grinned and ducked away, heading toward the entrance to his tent and snagging a spare lamp on his way out. “It’s rather late, I believe, and we all need to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Kolivan shook his head, obviously fighting back a smile, but nodded in agreement. “Yes. I’m a bit uneasy about how abruptly the fighting ended this morning. We should be rested and prepared for whatever may come tomorrow.”
Antok wrapped his arm around Kolivan’s waist, directing him toward their own tent and waving to Ulaz. “Agreed. Which means no more paperwork for you.”
Kolivan grumbled something inaudible but complied, dousing the remaining lamps around his desk. “Goodnight, Ulaz.”
“Goodnight,” Ulaz said, watching the two of them disappear through the entrance to their bedroom before disappearing behind the flap to his own chambers. The channel between the tents was cold, but his aid must have left a fire going in the stove before he went to sleep because the bedroom was pleasantly warm when he slipped inside, even after he started shedding his armor. Ulaz snagged a rag and gave the inky, opaque metal a quick polish before changing into his nightclothes and dousing the lamp.
He slid into bed, the pebble of apprehension sitting in his belly shrinking as exhaustion took over and he closed his eyes against the glow of the fire. There was nothing more he could do about it tonight; he’d let tomorrow worry about itself for awhile.
Thace skimmed through the report in his hand, trying to absorb as much of it as he could. When he’d finished, he looked up and nodded, passing the paper back to his assistant. “Bring this to Commander Sendak and make a copy for the captain of the druids, whoever that is now. And when you find out, send word back to me; I needed to know yesterday.”
Gradek nodded. “I believe they spent the last few evenings deliberating the decision, Commander.”
Thace grunted, scanning over the next report in the sheaf. “I know. It seems they’re incapable of finishing anything in a timely manner without Lady Honerva’s supervision.” He shuffled through a few papers and glanced around the field. “Where are Commanders Janka and Raht?”
Gradek shifted his feet, expression pinched. “Commander Janka has been busy with orders from the Emperor; inventory, I believe. Commander Raht died this morning.”
Thace looked up, raising a brow in surprise. “There was barely any fighting today,” he said, baffled.
Gradek’s mouth twisted in a grimace and he shook his head. “Forgive me, Commander, I don’t know anything else about it. I was told the generals know more and will be giving the details to the Emperor in their evening reports.”
Which meant he would be briefed come morning, but all Raht’s work would pile up until it could be reassigned.
Thace nodded, biting back a sigh, and turned back to the reports, breezing through the last of them before returning the whole sheaf to Gradek. “Put the two on top on my desk for my signature later. The rest need to go to Janka.”
Gradek nodded, slipping the papers into his waterproof case. “Yes sir. Also, the Emperor wants to speak to you as soon as you have the time.” There was no urgency to his tone but the glance he shot Thace’s way had a spark of curiosity. That Thace had known the Emperor for a long time - was even quite friendly with him - was relatively common knowledge, but Gradek had been respectful enough to never ask why despite how curious he’d always, rather obviously, been about it.
“Do you know what he’s summoning me for?” Thace asked. It was unlikely he was in trouble for anything, but aside from Raht’s death nothing of note had happened in days.
Gradek shook his head, straightening. “No sir, I was only told to pass along the message from General Axca’s aide.”
“Understood,” Thace said. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Gradek gave a quick salute and strode off, files held tightly under his arm.
Thace watched him disappear into the crowd of soldiers milling around the back of the front lines, rambunctious and noisy from their extra hours of free time.
The command to ceasefire for the day had trickled down around noon, raising more than a few brows in surprise, but no one had felt a need to complain; the officers were tired, too. Apparently the order hadn’t come soon enough, though, not for Raht. He hadn’t exactly been a great Commander, but his loss still meant extra work for the rest of them, at least until the Emperor decided on his replacement. “As if there isn’t enough to do already,” Thace muttered, scraping a hand down his face.
He took a quick glance around, double checking that there were no messengers coming his way or immediate concerns to deal with, and turned to head toward the back of the camp. It was almost a quarter-mile just to the first row of tents and another half to the far side of the plain, a decent walk on a normal day and tedious when you’d already crossed it multiple times. The one advantage to it was they could afford to spread out, the tents in neat, ordered lines but far enough apart to not be knocking elbows all day.
The command pavilion looked nearly deserted, guarded only by one of the Emperor’s generals. Her grin was all teeth when Thace approached and she followed him inside the tent’s low entrance.
The Emperor was leaning back against his desk, arms crossed and talking with the other generals. His face was impassive, calm, but tension lingered in his shoulders; he’d only been in command a few weeks but the weight of it was already beginning to show.
Thace thumped his fist over his chest in salute. “Emperor Lotor, you summoned me.”
Lotor looked over and waved for him to stand at ease. “Yes, thank you for your promptness, Commander. I wanted to get your opinion on a few things.”
Thace nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.” It had been a few years, but it wasn’t an odd request; Lotor had always seemed to value his perspective and had never been ashamed to ask for it.
“How was the battle today?” Lotor asked.
Thace shifted into a more comfortable stance, arms crossed over his chest and running through the mental list he’d been compiling for his daily report. “No ground was gained but none was lost, either.” No different than any other day for the last five years. “We lost about half-a-dozen of our own men and estimate perhaps a third of that number of Marmorans killed, but one of our own losses was Commander Raht.”
He paused, waiting for the Emperor’s unsurprised nod of understanding before continuing. “The Druids seem to be functioning adequately in battle despite lacking a proper leader, still, and the supply chain is running smoothly but slowly. Our back-stock is emptying rapidly; even with a full rotation of the men out hunting and reduced rations we’re going to be using up all the supplies from each delivery before the next one arrives in the near future.”
“How long?”
Thace shrugged. “A month?”
Lotor’s brow pinched. “How are the soldiers dealing with the extra shifts?”
Thace bit back the sigh rising in his chest but couldn’t stop his shoulders from sinking. “It... could be better. Many of them are weary of the stalemate. For some of them that means rising bloodlust with no appropriate outlet, but I’m more concerned about general morale. They’re not getting enough food and rest.“
Lotor nodded. “I thought as much.” He bowed his head, breath leaving in a gusty sigh. “We cannot continue like this. As vast as the Empire is, it cannot withstand the strain from such a prolonged war. And we cannot afford to waste our time pounding against what amounts to an impenetrable fortress with our bare fists.”
“Why are we fighting Marmora anyway?” Ezor asked, kicking her heels against the crate she was perched on. “It seems like a pretty insignificant country compared to most of the Empire’s other neighbors.”
“Luxite,” Axca said, arms folded across her chest. “It’s only ever been found in Marmora territory.”
“Exactly,” Lotor nodded. “It’s a rare metal, extremely durable and light. My mother and her scientists were desperate to get their hands on it but Marmora was stingy in their trade proposals and unwilling to compromise. At least, that is the tale according to my father, but I’m inclined to believe there’s a bit more to the story. Regardless, we have been fighting for years and made no progress. I would rather we pull back and take whatever deal they may still be willing to offer and let that be the end of it. End this useless war.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Zethrid asked.
Lotor’s gaze turned toward Thace - measuring, considering; heavy in a way that made Thace’s gut twist. “We offer a deal they would be foolish to reject,” he said, voice ringing with determination.
Well. This should be interesting.
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe | Historical Fantasy | Arranged Marriage
Excerpt:
Despite all the preparations being for the purpose of bringing Ulaz and Thace together for the rest of their lives, Ulaz hardly even saw Thace the entire week, let alone had the chance to speak with him for more than a moment, even during the rehearsal of the ceremony. Hopefully they weren’t meant to get to know each other before the wedding.
On Ulaz’s last night as an unwed man, Kolivan and Antok stayed up late with him, helping with the cleansing rituals and trying to calm his battered nerves with their presence. They all piled together on Kolivan and Antok’s massive bed in the dark, still hours before dawn, and Ulaz closed his eyes, worried for a long, agonizing minute that he would be too nervous to rest. But the busy, stressful week had worn him down and he passed out before too long, lost in dreamless sleep until the sun rose.
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe | Historical Fantasy | Arranged Marriage
Excerpt:
The others were already there, Lotor and Shiro with their hands clasped together on the table and Keith snuggled tightly between his parents. They all looked up when the door opened and Keith jumped out of his seat and ran straight into Ulaz’s open arms.
“Ulaz!” He snaked his arms around Ulaz’s chest and squeezed tight, tucking his face into Ulaz’s neck and shoulder. “I’m sorry, I barely even spared you a glance last night.”
“It’s alright,” Ulaz said - his voice sounded wet, choked - and squeezed Keith back just as tightly, resting his cheek on the younger man’s head. “I’ve missed you, tiger cub.”
