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>Previous: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Path%20of%20the%20Exorcist
Two weeks. Two weeks of manpower and materiel until the defence of Ixtab becomes unsustainable. Though he may seem hale and hearty, General Lowe is like a man bleeding from countless unseen wounds. Now, with the Third Army holding their positions across the Graf river, he must feel like his fate is truly sealed. Death is in the air, the reminders everywhere you look – death on the faces of every soldier you pass, death leering down from the macabre carvings, death death death...
Ixtab was where men first learned to bury their dead, or so Straub claims. Not just to cover the bodies with dirt and move on, but to build tombs and monuments. To mourn their dead and honour their ancestors. Ixtab was the place where men learned to be more than beasts – and the efforts did not go unnoticed. Even before the Accord was signed, the Sun King was said to watch and protect this place.
It doesn't feel like that now.
Sleep comes reluctantly, but is mercifully dreamless when it finally arrives. You remember waking only once, lying in the pure blackness of your quarters and listening to the distant echo of rifle fire. Nobody else seems to have slept much when you regroup at breakfast, and the conversation falters as you gnaw on pieces of army hardtack. To think that something like this could be your last meal...
“I'm sure this is all some kind of misunderstanding,” Ellis offers, seemingly undeterred by the provisions on offer, “The Regent wouldn't just let the Second Army get overrun like this.”
“The Regent isn't a military man. He'll do what his generals tell him,” Clarissa counters, a dark streak of venom in her voice, “There's no misunderstanding... Ellias.”
“What are you implying?” Ellis shoots back with a confused frown, “Are you-”
“Shut it, both of you,” Johannes warns, interrupting before the conversation can deteriorate any further, “Got enough fighting outside without the two of you adding to it. Save your energy for something productive.”
Silence.
Two weeks. Two weeks of manpower and materiel until the defence of Ixtab becomes unsustainable. Though he may seem hale and hearty, General Lowe is like a man bleeding from countless unseen wounds. Now, with the Third Army holding their positions across the Graf river, he must feel like his fate is truly sealed. Death is in the air, the reminders everywhere you look – death on the faces of every soldier you pass, death leering down from the macabre carvings, death death death...
Ixtab was where men first learned to bury their dead, or so Straub claims. Not just to cover the bodies with dirt and move on, but to build tombs and monuments. To mourn their dead and honour their ancestors. Ixtab was the place where men learned to be more than beasts – and the efforts did not go unnoticed. Even before the Accord was signed, the Sun King was said to watch and protect this place.
It doesn't feel like that now.
Sleep comes reluctantly, but is mercifully dreamless when it finally arrives. You remember waking only once, lying in the pure blackness of your quarters and listening to the distant echo of rifle fire. Nobody else seems to have slept much when you regroup at breakfast, and the conversation falters as you gnaw on pieces of army hardtack. To think that something like this could be your last meal...
“I'm sure this is all some kind of misunderstanding,” Ellis offers, seemingly undeterred by the provisions on offer, “The Regent wouldn't just let the Second Army get overrun like this.”
“The Regent isn't a military man. He'll do what his generals tell him,” Clarissa counters, a dark streak of venom in her voice, “There's no misunderstanding... Ellias.”
“What are you implying?” Ellis shoots back with a confused frown, “Are you-”
“Shut it, both of you,” Johannes warns, interrupting before the conversation can deteriorate any further, “Got enough fighting outside without the two of you adding to it. Save your energy for something productive.”
Silence.
