"Do what?" Abby questioned, tightening her grip on Luna's small hand.
"Keep your eyes moving forward. I was taught growing up to suppress emotion and focus on logic. For the first time in my life I am starting to feel. To feel emotion and connect the two. Logic and emotion both two sides of the same coin…" Luna trailed off staring at a large mill beside a creek.
"Honestly, I just make it up as I go because my family focused on the present and how to best plow through. Someone is depending on me and I can't stay stuck in my own mind. Trust me when I say there is nothing wrong with logic. That is how you deal with things in your life." Abby's eyes traced the large room with oak chairs and a command center in the middle. There were figures of horses, trains, and solders on top of a massive map that showed all of Flora.
"Nice to see you too," Monica murmurs, leaning over the large structure in the middle of the room.
Abby nodded, taking a seat in one of the rocking chairs in the corner of the room. Her eye found Marcus who was slumped over resting his eyes.
"How does he not choke on his toothpick?" Luna questioned, quietly sitting down in the chair next to Abby.
"It's probably from years of training, or his mouth just got stuck." Abby peered over, a huge smile sneaking across her face. Drawing her neck back, she glanced at Luna. "Yeah, his jaw is clinched."
Luna's cheeks flared red and she slightly let out a giggle. "It's the simple things like this that take my mind off of the death we saw today."
"Death... an all too present friend," Ian states, making his way towards Luna and taking a seat in the chair.
"I don't know about a friend," Abby replied. "That wasn't too elegant for you to say," she hinted, winking at him.
Ian let go of a slight laugh, stretching his neck from the left to the right. "Yours truly is rather exhausted after riding on a noble steed for the past four hours. I need to replace my hind quarters for a new one." Ian rubbed his lower back, clenching his teeth in pain.
"I never thought I would see the day where you would not be as elegant as you say." Luna poked him in the shoulder.
"Be gentle dear Luna, for I am a gentleman in recovery." Ian leaned back in his chair, scratching his chin and giving Luna and Abby a smirk.
"Alright everybody, gather around," Monica spoke up, crossing her arms. She points down at the large table in front of her.
Rosemary herded through the door, her ankle bandaged up. "I'm sorry for the wait," she confessed, pulling off her coat and putting it on the chair in the corner of the room.
"It's okay, we were just getting started." Monica nodded, uncrossing her arms. "Everybody, this is Bartholomew who you met earlier and he is a vital part of the mission of reclaiming Flora in the coming months."
"Just who is Bartholomew to you?" Cody piped up.
"He's just─" Monica started to say.
"I'm just an old flame," Bartholomew bellowed, smile forming underneath his thick mustache.
"Wait, a flame?" Ian pursued, surprised. "Our squad leader became more elegant than I could ever imagine. I thought she was without love because of her constant frowning."
"It's so sweet to love," Rebecca gasped, the pendent under her neck glowing brilliantly. "To love is the essence of being human; thus, also the essence of being from the goddess."
"My prior affections are of no matter in this room." Monica's elbow fiercely hit Bartholomew's ribs while he was still laughing proudly.
"Be careful, I'm not as young as I once was," Bartholomew states, rubbing his ribs and wincing slightly. "Any who, as Monica words are true that I am the leader of the free militia from the southern part of Flora. We are going to be helping the center regiment regain the border across the middle plains. We're also curious about these bandits that we have seen running around."
Abby thought back to the man's throat that her knife softly slid into and cut smoothly across his throat. Her eyes shift towards the ground, trying to focus as her eyes bounced around in her head.
"What we know is not a whole lot," Rosemary added. "It would appear that their weapons came from a military source. My guess would be the North."
"Why would you say the North?" Monica questioned.
"I'm not too sure, but I had a look at some of the ammo they were carrying, and the series was a lot different from ours. We run triple series numbers on our ammo and the country to the north of us runs double series."
"You mean the country of Midgand," Bartholomew states. "Have they already infiltrated our borders?"
"That prisoner did mutter something about us being rotten from the inside," Marcus explained, pulling out the toothpick from his mouth. That was before Rosemary blew the guy's brains out."
Monica snapped her head over at Rosemary. "How much combat did you see? How many people did you kill to get here?"
"Kill!" Ian looks around at everybody. "I think one of us racked up at least five or six kills during our first engagement."
"Did all of you process this mentally? Are you all okay?" Monica pressed her fingers together, her cheeks turning red. "I'm so embarrassed, and I'm so sorry that I did not ascertain your mental health before moving forward to the next operation."
"That's all part of war, isn't it?" Cody exclaimed. "To make our brains acclimate to death."
"You young ones are bold," Bartholomew observed, his gaze roaming the room and catching everyone in Monica's squad's gaze. "You will die on the battlefield if you do not mature mentally." Aye! Everyone, the first pint of wine is on me tonight so you can sleep well."
"That sounds good to me," Marcus put his hands above his head, stretching his body to the left and the right.
Monica nodded, smiling. Bartholomew patted her on the back. "Well, I should tell you squad, I trust this man with my life." Monica laid her head on Bartholomew, showing the slightest bit of emotion. "Alright everybody, I won't keep you long," she states. "Bartholomew wants to get a beer after his long trek on the road. Moving forward we're going to be liberating villages before we proceed south. The fighting has become so fierce that our assignment has changed."
"So we're not going to be heading to Masten bridge then? Some of us have family down there. I want to go and help my family." Marcus spoke up, his usual joking demeanor fluttering away like a dove replaced by the fury of a thousand bison.
"I understand your sentiment," Monica accepted, "but we have our orders. Going down to the Masten bridge would lead to our demise. We can pick off maybe a few, 20 to 30 people before being discovered. We would all die or be tortured to the end of the war. I will not lead us into that demise even if I were to defy orders."
"Honestly, I don't give a damn about orders," Marcus contended. Standing up, he stormed out of the building, slamming the door behind him.
"I think he may be tired," Rebecca remarked. "I'll talk to him."
"I'm done here. All of us need a break. We'll reconvene in the morning after a hearty breakfast. They got us rooms at the hotel since we're a smaller squad. It's about a 5-minute walk from here. We'll meet here in the morning after the sun has come up a little bit. Take time to sleep in." Monica turns to face Bartholomew before looking down at the warrior planning framework.
"What about you?" Rebecca inquired. Trudging over to the table, she put her hand on Monica's shoulder. "You are running at a furious pace. You need to slow down. No leader needs to be perfect. Take this from a fellow officer. You have done enough for today."
Monica gripped the table. She leaned over, tears falling from her eyes. "Thank you for showing me comfort." Monica rushed out of the building, her hand over her eyes shooing anybody from the tears that were following beneath her intense glare.
Rebecca stood there putting her hand out, she stared into Bartholomew's eyes and let go of a heavy sigh. "The tides of war affect us all."
"Aye." Bartholomew put his hand on Rebecca's shaking it softly as he made his way out of the building.