She was almost human from the waist up, except for her strange triangur ears and the two twisted horns on her forehead. But down below, she had sturdy little legs set with hooves. She was a pacle. Her red pupils had elongated irises like two swords lying on the ground, further reinforcing the terrifying look that this ash-gray skin gave her, and the many expression lines that enclosed her face. Her long, bck, shiny hair formed a curtain in front of her head, protecting her from outside eyes and from anyone wanting to come into contact with her. At least she would have hoped so.

  She put her hand on her belt, and took out of her purse two bck and worn dice which a priori had nothing to do there. Brows furrowed and jaw clenched, she turned to the fair-skinned bodar who was looking at her with wide, hopeful eyes, his blue feathers ruffled with excitement. If he continued to act like a child, he would probably end up with a bde across his throat.

  - Oh what a surprise !, he said innocently, Do you have any dice? Are you pying? We can py together! What game do you like?

  - Remind me to kill you, she hissed through her teeth.

  The young dy threw the two small objects over her shoulder, without worrying about her interlocutor who propelled himself with his two powerful wings to catch them before they were lost in the sand. He raised his head, a sulky pout pstered on his face, wrinkling his fine features. He shook like an animal, to remove the dust from his clothes, hair and feathers, which sent a volley of sand towards the pacle. She huffed, annoyed, then readjusted her red scarf which protected her skin from the harsh sun. Her two horns on her forehead hurt like hell. She definitely had her hair tangled around it again. A real pain. She didn't even know why she kept them so long, probably a bad habit, a routine that made no sense. The only thing she knew was that her long bck hair, smooth and shiny, could hide her, keep the mystery and fear in those who came too close. She didn't like people. And especially not the childish bodar who loved games, the one who was cursing behind her while sticking his tongue out. And that she had no right to kill, even if twisting his neck would have been easy. He was much smaller than her, lighter, and he didn't have animal hooves or paws, his big ft feet would be easy to crush. Or she could tear off all the feathers that covered his body, ending with his rge white and blue wings. The bodars were all morons. But this one was particurly irritating. If he wasn't a human with wings, which allowed him to perform aerial attacks and other useful things, Deadly would have sent him packing.

  A shy human watched them from afar, taken aback. Everything about him betrayed his uneasiness, from his pursed lips to his fingers twisting around his red suspenders. His gold-pted armor, symbol of the regiment and which suited the others so well, seemed much too rge for his adolescent body, which had barely entered adulthood. Anyone could see that he wanted to fit in but didn't really know how. He repeated polite greetings in a low voice: “Hello, how are you? No, I can't say it like that... Hello, I admire you a lot and... You're an idiot Pyu'un, it's been almost a season and you're not capable of doing something that simple!”.

  He was cut off from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. Jumping in surprise, he turned his head. When he saw who had interrupted him, his heart skipped a beat.

  - Makile, remember what we said ! You are part of this command now, your old name is not in use. Come on, brace your heart, we're almost there.

  The man with fme-colored hair smiled affectionately at him, then walked towards the small group who were still arguing. The long red cape, embroidered with the symbols of the Fire Empire in a brilliant gold, floated behind him like an extension of his mane. Golden roots that were darkening little by little, approaching crimson at the pointy ends, like scorching daggers sticking out of his skull. He was luminous, sunny, gold fkes seemed to float around him and envelop his muscur body and his long, slender legs. The tips of those were set with cloven hooves painted a bright yellow. He could have passed for the spirit of the desert, his elongated, glowing irises seemed to paint the dunes under the setting sun. He had nothing to do with the others. Everything about him screamed that he was a general. And especially his impressive horns, eight in number, some of which exceeded the size of an arm. First of all, an imposing pair, the same ocher color as his skin, which twisted around his long diamond-shaped ears. Then two others, thin, which rose from his forehead to lose themselves towards the sun, imitated by smaller ones just below, almost joining his bushy eyebrows. And finally, those which never failed to take the young soldier's breath away, the impressive antlers which started from the middle of the pacle's skull, and whose base was lost in his fiery hair. The amount of magic these appendages must have contained was immeasurable, and the boy got chills just imagining it.

  Makile was left speechless, his arms dangling. Not for long, however, because a forty-year-old with coal-bck skin punched him in the jaw. He smiled at him through his salt-and-pepper hair, some strands of which still betrayed their former hazel color. This curly-haired man was S'rinj, a physicist who held an important role in the army. Unlike healers, who were mostly practitioners of healing magic or humans who had learned medicine, physicists were focused on the functioning of the body in general. Humors, fluids, muscle mechanics... They sometimes carried out experiments in order to advance science and better heal future generations. Fascinating but terrifying people.

  The man, who stood at least two heads taller than Makile, then pced his square chin on the young man's shoulder, angling him towards the small group still in lively discussion. His curly hairs tickled the boy’s neck.

  - They are hurricanes in human form, those ones. It’s even surprising that this command still works. Well, apparently they do their job...

  The young soldier suddenly started moving again, waving his arms angrily.

  - General Drought is a hero, don't talk about him like that !

  The man burst into thunderous ughter, the cigar trembling at the edge of his full lips. He wiped a small tear from the corners of his eyes, then quickly regained his composure. He patted the boy on the shoulder, then leaned towards him, blowing smoke into his face.

  - First, if you call him ‘general’ and he hears you, you will very quickly see that fire burns. Then he's only a hero to civilians. For us he is a good leader, but above all he is a friend, a trusted person. He sometimes spends entire days apologizing because his rank puts the spotlight on him and not us, even when it's another soldier who has done something incredible. So if you want to stay friends with your “hero”, consider him a comrade.

  He patted his shoulder again, then walked away. Makile stood frozen for a moment, thinking about the physicist's words, then caught up with him and grabbed the sleeve of his uniform.

  - S’rinj, he hesitated, I… I don’t know how to do this… How do you treat a friend?

  The man looked him in the eyes for a few seconds. But the boy thought he had waited for hours. Suddenly the sky lit up with a brief golden color, a signal sent from the front of the convoy, and immediately the thousands of men breathed a sigh of relief. S'rinj took Makile's hand and then led him towards the two soldiers still arguing, who apparently made General Drought ugh a lot.

  - Hey boss, we’re here! The kid seemed a little lonely, I thought it might be nice to help him integrate. Seriously, a little 13 year old kid participating in the ost, it’s his first campaign! Isn’t it nice to see new people so devoted to their homend ?

  The cantankerous pacle pushed aside her hair and her scarf at the same time, and turned her two little red eyes towards Makile, as if to analyze him. Finally she snorted then grimaced.

  - You look familiar. Have I ever threatened you somewhere?

  Drought smiled, amused at the evident terror in the boy's gaze.

  - Deadly, will you pretend to be nice for at least two minutes?

  S'rinj patted the young soldier's head affectionately, before saying in a very serious tone:

  - Don't look her in the eyes, she might steal your soul.

  - It’s… it’s a joke, right?

  Makile was shaking uncontrolbly, despite the afternoon heat of the desert.

  - I mean... There's a rumor that you're a reincarnation of the goddess of death, but I don't believe it... Well, I mean... If you really are, I respect you ! But… I mean… Well it’s not…

  - If you say another word, I'll tear off your purses and make you eat them. And I'm not talking about what's on your belt, more about what's underneath. Clear ?

  - Crystal clear, madam…

  Drought stepped between the two, with a mischievous look.

  - It's over, we stop there. We have finally arrived in Fingur, so we are joining the fort for supplies, and tomorrow we will take over on the front lines. Clear, Deadly?

  - Yeah, yeah, crystal clear and all that…

  He then turned to the bodar who was trying to discreetly slip dices into Makile's purses.

  - Clear, Icy?

  He jumped, stumbled, and found himself face down in the sand. He grumbled, “Crystal clear” while trying to clean his feathers.

  - Okay, so let's hurry to arrive with a minimum of css. Join your regiments. Follow the orders of your knights, and don't take your eyes off your families.

  Makile stiffened, and began to look around for the infantry regiment of which he belonged. But when he tried to move away, he realized that S'rinj was still holding the sleeve of his tunic. He looked up at the forty-year-old who winked provocatively.

  - Since Drought is a general, there is an empty pce in Icy, Deadly and me's family. We're a special task force, and I think you'll make a good addition. In any case, you can't present yourself in style if there is a vacant seat in the front row. Right, boss?

  Drought raised an eyebrow, intrigued. But he gave his permission with a nod.

  ***

  Makile felt like he was walking through thick clouds. Everything seemed vague, superfluous, distant. How could it have been otherwise? He had just taken a position in the former family of his idol, alongside his comrades in arms. During his participation in the ost, no less ! He would never have thought that joining compulsory military service could bring him into contact with the general of the capital, Héliomenrès the Glorious’ troops.

  A violent pain in his ribs pulled him from his reverie. He turned to Deadly, who was pretending as if nothing happened, her dagger hidden in her ceremonial red cape, and her facial expression hidden behind her curtain of raven hair. The young boy suddenly realized the situation. They were in the middle of the troop arrival ceremony, the soldiers already on duty were making a guard of honor for those who were just arriving. Families of four were grouped into regiments, and regiments into commands. A magnificent ballet, a synchronized choreography tinted with the red and gold of the uniforms, making reflections of fire dance on the old stone walls of the Fingur fort. The music of clicking heels, tapping hooves, slipping sandals and rustling feathers echoed through the ceremony room, bouncing from wall to wall, and nding in Makile's ears. He had never seen an opera or a py, but he doubted that anything in the world could reach the level of perfection of what was before him.

  When the soldiers stopped, the young boy could see General Drought in front of him. He continued to advance, alone, to the center of the immense room. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. In the glow of the candlesticks and the magic of the pacles that lit the center of the room, he seemed to have twelve shadows, like silent servants ready to comply with his every desire. He looked like a king, a god, an entity that was beyond even the comprehension of the goddesses.

  Makile pinched his thigh to rid himself of these bsphemous thoughts, keeping his arm still so as not to break the stillness of the row. Before him, the generals of the other commands approached Drought, then bowed one by one. The pacle, in a theatrical gesture which oddly suited him very well, took a parchment from his belt, unrolled it, and leaned over to start reading. The many jewels with which his ears and horns were adorned with began to tinkle as they cshed, sending rainbow rays into the hot, heavy air of the fort. His voice rose loudly, making the stone vibrate.

  - As decided by the Council of Sages on the 41st day of the farewell season, in the 39th revolution of the 7th era, under the blessing of the goddess Héliote, the constable issues the immediate order for the deployment of two commands under the direction of the general Drought, alias…

  His voice broke for a few moments. He frowned, sighed, then cleared his throat and continued :

  - Under the direction of General Drought, alias Tam'liz Sh'oz, in order to stem the enemy movements seen in the Duchy of Mko. In this sense, the troops will immediately leave for Fort Fingur where they will be ordered to lend a hand to the present generals.

  He rolled up the parchment again and put it on his belt, the rustling of the paper echoing in the silence.

  - Do you accept this order ?

  Makile could only watch Drought's back, but could clearly see the generals kneeling in front of him. It was probably for this reason that he saw the copper-skinned human woman, apparently the leader of the command assigned to the fort for the longest time, who bared her teeth and tried to get up, shouting “I will never allow myself to be commanded by a noble kid who…” but she didn’t finish her sentence. The young soldier did not immediately understand what had caused the fsh of light, nor what the projectile that flew into the room was. Or maybe he didn't want to understand.

  However, he could not deny the truth when an oozing, sticky, scarlet ball fell at his feet. He recognized the hair and the copper complexion, even before the ball turned, revealing the face still distorted by anger, whose veiled eyes fixed on him. Makile raised his head, and saw the fmes go out, while Drought's eight horns finished glowing, a sign that he had just used his fire magic. He hadn't even moved.

  The rest was blurry. The generals rushed to accept the order and kiss Drought's hooves. But the young boy saw nothing. He didn't realize he was shaking either. He only came back to reality when Deadly grabbed his head and leaned it over the helmet Icy handed him. Spasms shook him as he emptied his entire stomach into the makeshift bowl. S'rinj picked up the head, wrapped it in his ceremonial cloak and tossed it to another side of the room, probably to hide it from Makile's view. He then began to pat his head and neck paternally, which oddly enough seemed to help the boy a lot. When he finally managed to calm down, Icy signaled to a servant to come get the helmet and give the young soldier a towel.

  Makile had never seen the bodar so serious. For about 90 days, the time he had walked from the capital to Fingur, he had seen him acting like a child, bothering everyone to force them to py with him, and even trying to cut Deadly's hair just to piss her off. But never, even once, had he seen him take care of anyone. It was strange, so unusual, and yet his serious expression completely transformed his face, as if it had always been like that.

  - How are you doing, kid ?

  S’rinj gently rubbed his back as he accompanied him out of the room. The ceremony was over. All the soldiers came out one by one, whispering feverishly. Makile turned to take one st look at the center of the room. Drought hadn't moved. He remained in front of the decapitated body of the general who had insulted him. When he finally walked away, his orange face was spshed with scarlet spots. Behind him, the ground was the same color.

  - I think I’m okay.

  The young soldier grabbed the arm of the forty-year-old who, feeling his trembling grip, rushed to support him.

  - But I'm still going to throw up again…

  ***

  Drought stretched his long, slender legs into the bathtub. His first bath in almost an entire season. He longed to stay in the water indefinitely, with the maids vigorously scrubbing his body to rid it of dirt and sand. And blood. The water was gradually turning a pinkish color, and he could see by their stiff backs that this terrified the maids. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair and between his horns, then stood up.

  One of the women, a young human with a small blond bun, blushed deeply as she fixed her gaze on the parts of the general's body that were sticking out of the water. He sighed again and grabbed the towel from the edge of the bathtub to wrap it around his waist.

  - Can I have my clothes now ?

  The servant blushed even more, but this time with shame. She ran out of the room to get the outfit. Drought came out of the water and turned to the three remaining women.

  - Is anyone else having trouble with my butt, or can we finish my grooming ?

  In silence, an old maid roughly snatched the towel from his hands and forced him to sit on a stool. She then began to rub him vigorously, from his hooves to his ears. But the general preferred this attitude, he was less uncomfortable.

  When he was finally dry, his fur brushed, his hair combed and braided, he quickly dressed in a simple outfit that had been brought for him, then headed towards the corridor to join the soldiers. The embroidery set with small gems still seemed very luxurious for a soldier in the field, but he didn't have much better. And obviously, he also had to wear the test fashion makeup, white and yellow arabesques running across his cheeks, his nose, and his forehead.

  - If you don't wear at least one piece of jewelry, I'll hold my breath until I turn blue.

  Drought turned around, rolling his eyes.

  - S’rinj, you’re not a kid anymore. And me neither. Jewelry is a silly thing that I force myself to wear to events. I don't want to cover myself with it every day.

  He continued on his way, picking up his pace. The forty-year-old trotted past him and stood in his path, his two eyes as bck as his skin locked in those of the pacle.

  - You are a general. You are nobility. You are from the great Sh’oz dynasty, you are practically a descendant of a god. Put on your damn jewelry.

  Drought pursed his lips and gave an annoyed growl.

  - You know what I think, you know me better than my own father. I'm Drought, my name is not Tam'liz Sh'oz anymore. I have nothing to prove to anyone.

  The physicist took a cigar from his pocket, put it to his lips, then gave his interlocutor a long look. Drought shook his head sharply.

  - No. No chance.

  S’rinj didn’t move.

  - No, I told you !

  The two bck eyes didn't even twitch. They stared at Drought's elongated irises without flinching.

  - Uncle, you are a mentor to me, but I don't want to carry around more accessories than any of my soldiers could afford in their life!

  - They're not just accessories, general. It's a symbol. A link with Our Lady, the goddess Héliote. So for the st time, go put on some jewelry.

  The two men were still facing each other, neither seemed ready to abandon their positions. S’rinj still had his cigar in his mouth, and was twirling it between his lips with a confident air. Tired of this silent confrontation, Drought surrendered, raising his hands. He fshed his horns, causing a small fme to appear which flew towards the physicist's face, lighting his rge cigar. Satisfied, the forty-year-old patted the general on the shoulder.

  - I'll wait for you downstairs with the others.

  He then turned on his heel and left, whistling. The pacle watched his square face move away, amid the crunch of his leather boots. Then he headed towards his room.

  He finally came down the stairs fifteen minutes ter. His arrival made a big impression among the teeming mass of soldiers chatting in the hall. All his horns were set with rings and precious stones. From two of them, the gigantic antlers, hung thin gold chains that swayed with every step he took. Rings also on his fingers, and elegantly decorated bracelets on his wrists, ankles, and biceps. He was wonderful, magnificent. He looked special.

  Ignoring the envious gnces or admiring whispers, Drought headed toward the small group still bickering near a window.

  - Don't tell me this is the first time you've seen blood, Makile! You're going to the front tomorrow ! I promise you, if you throw up again, I'll rip your stomach out with my teeth. Problem solved !

  - And you wonder why you're still single, Deadly ?

  S’rinj tickled her by pressing her cheek with each word. And even through her curtain of bck hair, you could see her little red eyes fshing with anger.

  - You have your whole life to make me want to hit you, why not rest today ?

  - I see it’s lively again today !

  Drought had approached and was observing the group with a big smile. Deadly, her fists clenched, cursed through her locks. In front of her, S'rinj was bothering her while acting as a shield to protect Makile, pale and trembling behind him. In the middle, Icy found it fun to keep score. By the number of his fingers raised, there were two for Deadly, and three for the young soldier-old physicist side. But when he saw the general, he jumped towards him.

  - Of course it’s lively when you decapitate someone !, he whispered.

  Makile came out from behind S'rinj to greet his idol, still a little agitated. Drought took a moment to observe him, detecting terror behind his small smile and fear in his brown eyes. He smiled comfortingly at him and dodged Icy to ruffle his hair.

  - Unfortunately, I had no choice. Insults and insubordination in the middle of an official ceremony ? If I had let her be, not only would everyone have thought they had the right to demean me, but she would also have refused to obey me on the battlefield. Which could have led to thousands of deaths. I did what had to be done. And I did it quickly and well, which is better for her.

  He was turned towards Icy, but it was obvious that his words were addressed to the young human who was gradually regaining color. He nodded gently, understanding the implications.

  The usually mischievous bodar moved even closer, until his face was just inches from Drought's. He was stiff and his nostrils were fring. His clenched fists dug his sharp nails into his palms.

  - If you wanted to give him a real punishment, you would have done it officially in court or with a priest of the High Justice, as usual. You didn't have to decapitate her on the spot before she even finished her sentence, and that in front of the young recruits and kids who participate in the ost. This is the best way to instill terror instead of trust. What's wrong with you, Drought? Did you get up on the wrong foot ? Did she put her hand on your butt ?

  The horns of the pacle began to crackle and light up little by little. His eyebrows furrowed and his ears fttened back, almost against the back of his neck.

  - I'm a general now, so I think I deserve a minimum of respect.

  - Otherwise what ?Icy was almost screaming. Makile began to tremble again, struck by the violence of this confrontation. It was getting hotter and hotter, Drought's horns glowing like an oil mp on a moonless night.

  - Are you going to kill me like you killed her yesterday ? She was a very good woman, I fought with her for the new nds almost 7 revolutions ago, even before you returned to the ranks! You could have listened to her, maybe she had an opinion, something to tell you, a mistake you had made and...

  Is that insubordination I hear ?

  Now the temperature was unbearable. Icy was sweating profusely in his red uniform, but he kept his gaze fixed. Drought's eyes began to glow, and fmes appeared around him.

  Suddenly, a knock. A shock. Deadly had just thrown her fist into the bodar's face, causing a dull noise to resonate in his jaw and feathers to fly. He sprawled on the ground, his gigantic wings, each two to three times the size of his body, dragged other soldiers with him, causing panic among the few who had not seen or heard the altercation. Silence settled. The only thing that broke it were the crackling of Drought's horns. After a few seconds, the tension in his muscles rexed. He exhaled a long breath and his eyes returned to a normal color. His magic retracted from the air and the heat subsided. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he excimed out loud :

  Well, I know how to light up a room !

  S’rinj, with a jovial air, picked up Icy and replied with a ugh :

  - It's called pyromania and it has nothing to do with social skills !

  Deadly couldn't help but chuckle and even Icy, completely stunned and with a crooked jaw, burst out into a high-pitched ugh. Makile stood frozen, struck with horror. He felt his stomach heave, once more.

  - I think I'm going to throw up again…

  AmbreaTaddy