‘You’re slouching, Arel.’
The captain’s voice startled me. I must have lost track of time, staring at the crackling fire. He sat next to me on a hollow, collapsed tree trunk. My back straightened on instinct.
‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Today it matters not,’ he said with a smirk. ‘But tomorrow I expect perfect execution. Anything less might get you killed.’
I didn’t know how to respond.
‘But I know you will do well. You are a great warrior, wise beyond your age.’
The captain tore off a fragment of the dead tree’s bark. He lifted it to his face, examining it in the soft glow of the campfire.
‘Why are you not resting, Arel?’ he asked, still transfixed on the piece of wood. ‘Your squadmates are already dreaming about tomorrow’s victory.’
‘I try to get into the proper headspace.’ It was a lie, but I would never admit to my captain that I am scared. Scared of the rows of faceless Imperial riflemen. Of their bullets that shred armour like cloth, to which I am not as used to as common arrows.
‘It sounds rather useless, frankly’ he chuckled. ‘But whatever makes you feel ready for what happens tomorrow, young one.’
‘A swift victory, that is.’
The captain threw the bark into the campfire. Dry as it was, it was engulfed immediately, joining the firewood in the pit.
‘Off the back of our joint effort to preserve the League’s world.’