Chapter seven: A Victory that ran Hollow

Enyo found Herite waiting with his remaining men; the strict few who’d walk off this field alive. Herite walked with a limp, his hand wrapped around his waist and save for a gash above his eye and a few bruises, he’d exit the field alive and breathing.
“I’m not sure I can call this a victory” Herite stammered, as Enyo helped him to the ground, tearing open his shirt to examine his side
“I wouldn’t call it any less” she answered, closing the wound with her fingers, making him flinch. “We’re alive aren’t we?” she continued.
“At what cost?” he asked.
“Perhaps you should consider taking on a new career” she answered, tearing a strand from his shirt.
“Believe me, I have” he replied, flinching, “Especially in situations like these.”
“It’s just a graze” she assured him, holding the strand in place, the blood flow slowly stopping. “I doubt you’ll even need stitches for it.”
“Though this doesn’t even begin to amount to the worst part of being a general” he said solemnly, his eyes cast to the ground.
Enyo looked at him.
“No . . . the worst part is breaking the news” he continued, looking first at his men and then turning his gaze to Enyo. “I take away fathers, husbands . . . sons. And I can never guarantee their return. Their families beg and plead for them stay, but every time, they choose to go with me. And the look on the faces of those they left behind . . . when I’m forced to bring news of their sacrifice . . . it kills me inside” he whispered.
“You cannot blame yourself for their death” Enyo answered calmly, repositioning the strand of cloth. “These men choose to go with you because they respect you as their leader; someone who is stepping up and into the fray of battle to protect his people and his country. They only want to provide the same. But those that have fallen will not have done so in vain, and their families know that.”
“If I could ever hope to amount to the same level of bravery as them, I would be a better man for it.”
“Bravery is not something that can be taught. It’s something that must be earned. Those on the field have repaid what they owed. If you continue to blame yourself for the inevitable, you will never have peace” she answered solemn.
“I suppose you’re right” he answered. “What is it?” he asked, noticing her pause, her face turned toward the sky.
She held up a hand to silence him.
“Persian” she whispered, her face drawing into a scowl.
She had him pulled to his feet by the scruff of his neck in a heartbeat. This soldier was no more than a child. He had crawled through the wreckage and past the bodies of his former allies, unable to stand from a gash in his left thigh which was bleeding profusely down his leg. He looked no older than sixteen.
“Your army, why do they want Athens?” Enyo asked defensively.
“War” the boy stuttered
“Why?” she asked again, gritting her teeth, her grip tightening.
“Sicily” he answered, eyes full of fear.
“What about Sicily?” she asked, anger beginning to rise.
“Persia wanted to prove themselves a worthy ally. Capturing Athens would bring Sicily to their cause” he stammered.
Enyo let the boy go.
“Athens has never caused trouble with either Persia or Sicily” joined Herite.
“It’s war, no purpose is ever needed” she answered simply.
Enyo looked at the boy seeing nothing but confusion in his eyes. Persia may have served as his home, but war was not his specialty. He looked at her, asking the same question she kept repeating over and over in her head: “What will you do with me?”
Herite looked to her for a confirmation.
“Let him go” she answered finally “War is no place for you. Go home, lest you get yourself killed” she said to him.
The boy nodded and turned to walk away; the thought of mercy rebounding in his brain.
“I better get back to Kain and tell him the news” said Enyo, sheathing her sword.
“Thank you for everything” said Herite as his men helped him to his feet.
“Save your thanks. Give them to those who truly deserve it” she answered, nodding in the direction of his men.
Herite smiled.

The trek to Sparta consumed five days rather than two for lack of a horse. When at last she had arrived, the Spartan camp finally looming in the distance, she dropped to the ground, rubbing her feet.
“Always hated walking” she thought.
The top of Kain’s tent was unmistakable. There was a high probability he was currently in a conference as that was all he ever seemed to be capable of doing. Enyo had rarely seen him enter a battlefield, if he had ever completely entered one at all. Yet no one dared to double cross him. He wore an unreadable expression every time she saw him; his mood impossible to determine. Perhaps that was why everyone feared him.
Enyo strapped on her boots and pulled herself to her feet, sighing. At most she’d arrive in an hour.
Her assumption had been correct. As she walked up the camp’s path, the chancellor of Athens emerged from the tent, followed closely by Kain. He caught sight of her, deciding it better to let the chancellor exit the camp alone and came to join her.
“I just received word of Persia’s alliance with Sicily. Herite sent me message about two days ago.”

“And what do you intend to do?” Enyo asked
“Sparta will ally with Athens. Sicily will be our first target” he answered simply.
“And what of Persia?”
“Persia can wait. They’re lacking proper leadership thanks to you. No, I imagine Sicily will be far more dangerous for the time being, not to mention that Persia will be lacking its only ally.”
“Whatever you say” Enyo sighed.
“And where is Tyrus?” he asked looking around.
“Tyrus decided to switch sides” she answered crossing her arms.
“Unfortunate, but not irreplaceable” he replied, scratching his chin. “The chancellor wishes to schedule a meeting, but I am unable to attend. Leon and I have congressional matters we must attend to.”
“And I suppose you want me to go in your place?” she asked with a sigh.
“Precisely” he smiled. “I’ve assured the chancellor to take your word as if it were my own.”
“Very well”
Kain smiled.