Page 34 of The Wild Prince's Favorite
“...Shall we take prisoners?” Tievin asked, noticing the Prince’s gaze.
The handful of soldiers guarding Tievin also glanced at him, curious to see if the Commander in Chief’s orders were going to change.
He didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes shifted to one of the fighters. At this very moment, one of the barbarians somehow managed to detach himself from the battlefield and having spotted him, ran toward Kassein while yelling and holding some axe-like weapon aimed at him.
Normally, there would have been orders given, and two or three men jumping in his way, but because that man wasrunning toward the Commander in Chief, no one was brave or mad enough to stand in his path. Instead, they all watched as Kassein stepped forward, calmly grabbed his sword, and with one perfect, clean movement, swung his sword in the air. The blade had been sharpened so well that it cut effortlessly through the man’s skin, flesh, and bones, and sent his head flying high.
It dropped down right in front of Tievin.
“Ugh,” the Grand Intendant covered his mouth, barely suppressing a gag.
That answered everyone’s question, and nobody raised the idea of taking prisoners anymore. They only witnessed the Commander in Chief running into battle, his soldiers carefully getting away from him and his deadly long sword.
Meanwhile, Tievin tapped the shoulder of the soldier closest to him.
“Y-you. Get that... that thing out of my sight.”
The men guarding him were annoyed. None of them wanted to be there guarding that wimp... Still, one of them swiftly took care of getting rid of the severed head.
As expected, the battle quickly ended. No barbarian was spared, and truthfully, they hadn’t shown any signs of trying to leave either.
They all had fought with the intention to kill and hadn’t stopped even when injured. Despite the North Army leaving them a route to go back, none ever ran away. For some reason, they were resolute to come down to kill their enemies from the Empire or die trying. Not that the soldiers felt much pity; like every battle, there were casualties on both sides and this time again, they had to count their dead and gather the wounded.
While doing so, most couldn’t help but steal glances toward the Commander in Chief. That man had nothing to envy of the legendary War God, in their eyes. Once again, he’d come out of the battle unscathed, with the highest count of killsdespite joining late. And yet, none were so bold as to go up to him. Instead, they watched from the sidelines while the most cowardly of them casually walked up to the Commander in Chief, a handkerchief on his mouth.
“...Another victory,” Tievin commented. “There are four confirmed deaths so far, twelve men in critical condition, and about fifteen sent to the medical tents for lesser wounds. All barbarians are dead.”
Kassein’s eyes were on one of the barbarians’ bodies, and Tievin followed his gaze, although he immediately averted his eyes at the exposed entrails.
“They are from a different tribe than her, sir,” Tievin said, his voice muffled by his handkerchief. “Their attire, weapons, and tribal markings suggest they did not come from the same tribe as that woman.”
Kassein had noticed too. They had fought with the tribes enough by now to notice there were several of them, and some were quite different from one another. It didn’t make him feel better, or worse. He simply wondered if her tribe was going to come for her, and if it was indeed her own tribe that had initially chased her... If so, would they try to save her, or finish the job? He put his sword away.
“Take care of the bodies.”
He turned around and left, headed back toward his tent.
When he stepped back inside his tent, to his surprise, he found Alezya trying to stand up. She had one leg out of bed and was using her elbow on the bedside table to try and support herself.
Their gazes met, and she froze, visibly embarrassed to be caught. He rushed to her side. What was that mad woman doing, trying to get up by herself? She fell back on the bed, her face turning red, grabbing the blanket to cover herself.
“Why are you trying to get up?” he asked her, completely confused.
He’d left her with water, and she had eaten enough to be full for twice the time he was gone at least... So what was it? Was she trying to leave the tent? Why? To escape? He kept staring, but she was flushed red and avoiding his gaze. Seeing how she’d gone back to being cautious, her shoulders a bit up, he retreated one step, giving her some safe space.
Something was off, in the way she wouldn’t look at him. It was not the attitude of someone who was afraid after being caught trying to escape, so what was it?
“Alezya?”
He was trying to figure it out, but this time, she wasn’t answering or even looking at him. Instead, she kept turning her body away from him, her legs hanging out of the bed, her hand on the fur blanket covering her front... That’s when he understood, from the way she held her knees awkwardly against one another.
He was an idiot! She had been lying in bed for two days, and she hadn’t been able to relieve herself... and now she had drank quite a bit too. He internally called himself an idiot again and tried to think quickly.
Most men would do their business outside in a deserted area, preferably far from the camp, and clean after themselves, but they didn’t have much to accommodate women. Thus, he just grabbed a bucket that was in his room and placed it in front of Alezya, and without saying a word, left the tent, now feeling embarrassed too.
He stood outside, trying to think. He hadn’t realized there would be a few issues arising with bringing a woman inside a male-only camp...
There hadn’t been a woman in the North Army since he’d taken it farther up the inhospitable north. Plus, a lot of criminalswere sent under his command, and he wouldn’t have been able to guarantee the safety of several women. But there was one, now, in his tent, and while he could guarantee her safety, it also meant he had to provide for her.
