"Unit X?" Wystan prompts when the walls are secured with Gauge's fancy new enchantment.

"I thought ya knew about them?" Gauge gets a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. Glasses are forgotten as he drinks straight from it. "You were in the Army, right? They're part of it."

Wystan rolls his eyes and sits across him, then swipes the bottle from his hands to drink too. "That means nothing considering the secretive nature, don't you think?"

Gauge pouts at him, gesturing to give the bottle back. "But a Lieutenant-General! How come ya don't know about them?"

"Lieutenant-General only in name," Wystan says, exasperated. Does everyone really think the title is real? It's as real as the piece of paper he got it with and nothing more. He hadn't been in active service for long following the promotion.

After the Battle of Lissana's peak, he expected to be discharged. Booted. Forgotten. Maybe even punished for disobeying an order. Discharged he was, but not for the reason he expected.

War is never nice.

War takes.

And takes. And takes. Takes and takes.

Lissana's peak is the highest plateau on a small mountain range on the west, enclosing their continent from Salazar's Pass, a thin stretch of land that curves through the Lichenball's Ocean and connects it to the other land mass.

Theaze invaded almost ten years ago, with magnificent battleships and powerful spells. They are craftsmen and mages and such was expected after decades of cold relations.

Of course, they couldn't use Salazar's Pass for being too conspicuous, this wasn't the first intercontinental war where they came from the sea.

So when the intel said they were moving some troupes on foot, the Empire decided to show Theaze some hospitality. Soldier units waited to sweep them away when they cross the peak as it was the only way in to the continent through the land.

Wystan's platoon was among them.

The order came one muggy morning, march to western steppes and combine with squadrons 10 and 8. Wystan, then young and much too optimistic, gathered his men and they rode out. He expected to be summoned. Magic specialists were needed to spring a trap at Lissana's peak.

Out of thirty in Wystan's platoon, twenty five survived the seven-day journey through the evergreen woods.

There was a leak. A traitor. Or infiltrator. The result was the same. All of the Empire's magic-specializing units were attacked on the same day. Some would say that his platoon was lucky to lose only five, but he'd digress. Several were injured enough not to participate in the Empire's trap.

Wystan sat alone in the medical area reserved for the highest ranking. Let the medics tend to the deep cut that spanned his right leg from knee to ankle and hoped for the best.

Word of the massacre came. The hunters had become hunted. The Empire was the one who walked into a trap. A hundred still stood strong. But they were surrounded, cut off from the path back. They could only continue a senseless struggle until swallowed into the jaws of the conflict.

When Wystan had asked why no relief was deployed, why was no one saving them, he was told to keep quiet. That the Empire wouldn't lose more on a fool's errand, but wait for the Theaze's warriors to come to them. Even when more units had arrived, even if they had doubled the original number to spring the trap, some people were forgotten.

Wystan didn't forget.

He eyed the familiar steel, forged years before his time, his trusted sword vibrated with intent. Of course, he thought, the blade cried for action. It didn't care what it cut, just that it cut. And at that moment, he knew what to do.

The left sleeve of his Army coat missed its end, now length two-thirds of the original, so he cut the right side to match it, then slapped several strengthening enchantments on the cloth.

He limped right through the camp, armed more than he'd usually have on him because what he was going to do was beyond crazy. The world wouldn't end if he was dead, but if he could save one, just one person, he'd be happy to go.

Word spread. A battalion, counting several specialized units, followed him.

They won. They saved their trapped countrymen and dealt a mighty blow to Theaze's forces. Hit-and-run tactics work best for those who know the terrain.

Wystan knew he'd be lucky to stay alive. So when he couldn't even get back to the camp on his own two feet, he thanked the gods of the Underworld for only talking part of him and not his soul.

After his mad rush into battle, his leg that had been injured earlier became even more mangled.

Six months to stop limping during a short walk, a year and a half until he could go on a slow run. Not the best outcome for a wide-eyed twenty-two-year-old who stared right into the jaws of death, but considering his odds, acceptable.

Honorably discharged after being proclaimed a hero by those who he'd saved, their families sprung a tale of a brave warrior who leaves no one behind, of a prince that isn't like the other nobles. A kindhearted prince who assists the elderly and tells anecdotes to children.

He wasn't aware of it back then, but now it's laughingly easy to see it. Camdyn had to acknowledge the hero of the people. Kineburga had to award him for his bravery.

Two months following the battle at Lissana's peak and after countless magical surgeries to save what was left of his right leg, Wystan had been promoted to a Lieutenant-General, taking the position of the man who had ordered him to stand down, to let his comrades die.

As a result, he was placed in the reserves with the title he had obtained becoming merely a decorative item.

He'd never anticipated being reinstated, never expected to become a scapegoat to the twins' wild powerplay, and certainly never thought he'd be sent after a dragon.

One is nothing but a pawn in a game called life.

So lost in the unpleasant memories, he realizes that Gauge has been trying to catch his attention for quite some time.

The mercenary has stood up, bent over so they're face to face, and Wystan can only see concern and surprise.

"Ya okay?"

Is he okay? He doesn't know. "Yeah." He's feeling passable at the very least. "Give me that." Again, the bottle is in his hand and he drinks.

Gauge frowns but sits back.

They drink quietly.

"So how do you know about Unit X?" Wystan asks after the silence becomes unbearable. It might be because of everything that came to the front of his mind, recollections buried deep into the darkest corners, or feelings that mix with them.

"I like to be informed of competition," Gauge says, which explains nothing. But then again, has he expected a straight answer? No. He doesn't really need it.

"A competition," Wystan repeats. "Kineburga's deed, I assume."

"Of course, the group answers only to the Chief of Staff." The longer this conversation goes, the more Gauge's accent molds to mimic Wystan's.

"And we can't talk about them in the open."

Gauge breaks into a smirk. "It's said that they have eyes and ears everywhere."

Wystan thinks about that sentence, something bothering him about how it was said.

"You think I'm being watched," Wystan says after a moment. "To confirm when I die trying to slay the beast."

"Or to take your head off if you try to run away." Gauge shrugs. "I have no proof, but my instinct has never been wrong."

Instinct, he says. Wystan hasn't been looking for spies, but now he'll need to put it on the list of daily tasks. Great. What a delight.

"How come you know but don't know about them?" Gauge asks, making Wystan blink at him because that question makes very little sense. Of course, the mercenary notices Wystan's bewilderment and explains.

"You weren't surprised to hear about them so you're at least aware of their existence."

"Oh, that. I stumbled upon them years ago. Literally."

Gauge shoots him a surprised look. "And you live to tell the tale."

"What can I say? Being born into a royal family has its perks."

"Sure," Gauge deadpans. "Except when they decide to kill you, then a dragon has to do their dirty work."

That's so stupidly accurate that Wystan chuckles at the irony of his existence. The whiskey is strong, but he feels it barely took the edge off, even if the bottle looks to be almost half empty.

"By the way," Gauge says suddenly, startling him from the lull of quiet. "Our dearest Zmayan wants to see you tomorrow. Said he has something to show you."

What the hell? "When did you have time to speak with him?"

"When I was searching for Kel," Gauge replies. "Looked like he went for a swim or something."

Or something. Alexei must have spoken with Gauge immediately after the two of them parted at the spring. It's suspicious. Wystan expected the man to brood for a few days but obviously, he has another move to play. Is it to keep an eye on Wystan?

Wystan has become awfully popular with all the attention he's been receiving recently. Just his luck. At least he can enjoy annoying the man. But that should be left for tomorrow.

He looks at the bottle in his hand. Today is a perfect day to get drunk.