[AN] Where the War Won't Follow

"They're right over there, my liege." Nouchali pointed to the crest of a nearby hill.

Caerulea sighed, gripping his dragonid's reigns tighter. He could spot bits of color against the snowbank, which had bunched together at the sight of him and his own party. It was difficult to keep the disappointment out of his face, but Caerulea had long since become a master of masking his emotions.

He half-turned to his assembled group, a small collection of loyalists and his personal guard. "Well, let's not waste time waiting around," he spoke, letting his eyes flick over the others. 

A few nods prompted him to turn his dragonid towards the other group, gently nudging the reigns. It set into an easy trot, kicking up tiny clumps of snow as it went. The air was cold, but not overpoweringly so - it was the warmest season of the year, Pyrldan, in the heat of summer. Of course, it wasn't warm enough to melt any of the snow that regularly caked the ground - it never got warm enough. Still, the chill breeze had stilled for now, and the weather was quite good.

How awful, to waste such a beautiful day on this.

Caerulea kept his gaze steady. The further group pulled tighter together for a split second before a single individual emerged from them, heading towards Caerulea. Their chin was held high, their armor clinking audibly with every step, and their gaze was centered regally on the ruler a few paces away. Caerulea stilled his mount, waiting with the most impassive expression he could muster. 

"General Cruziana," he spoke, settling his hands in his lap. His sword was strapped to his hip, and it was comforting to keep a hand close - but not close enough as to alarm the other. "I hoped it was not true when my people informed me of... this."

The older lesser god looked Caerulea up and down, and leaned to peer past him at the small accompayment. He steeled his gaze. "Times change, Caerulea. Times are changing."

"I had hoped that you would change with us, General. I would have appreciated your guidance and wisdom in the coming battle."

Cruziana's eyes flicked to the clouds, then back to Caerulea's face. "I'm not going to gut my fellows in your name, Caerulea. I don't give two shits about the prophecy or whatever ass you and your followers are pulling out. I supported you because Ferox did, but now that you've turned on him I'm not going to march up to my friend and his people and kill them just because you want me to."

"Is that what you think is going on?" Caerulea narrowed his eyes. "You see me as some child backstabbing everyone who helped me?"

"No. But this thing you're doing, with Ferox - it's not moral. It's not right."

"War is not moral."

"You've made it that way," Cruziana retorted.

Caerulea bit back a huff. No need to show off his discomfort... although he couldn't keep the snide anger from his tone. "I had hoped you were still open to reason."

"I don't reason with traitors, Caerulea."

"What is your plan, exactly, here? Run to the Cerato? They're worse than you think I am."

Cruziana glanced behind himself. Over the hill and his small band of followers laid the edges of High North's territory, and past that, the Cerato Confederacy. It was a day or so's travel to their nearest border outpost, by Caerulea's reckoning. His general turned back to face him. "I'll go where the war won't follow me."

"A pity," he spat, "I never took you for a coward, General."

"And I never took you to be a snake, Caerulea."

"What would you have had me do?" he hissed, leaning forwards. "Sit back and let Ferox follow through with his absurd plan? I didn't claw and fight my way to where I am now just to roll over and let him kill me so he can get political support."

Cruziana didn't flinch. "Perhaps you should have been taught less of rebellion and more of patriotism."

"So you wouldn't have batted an eye when Ferox would've martyred me?"

"It was what was best for our nation," Cruziana replied simply. "Nothing is more unifying than the death of our land's most charismatic, of course. We could've charged on the Ceratos and overtaken them, had you just accepted the plan. You would've even been buried among the likes of High North's rulers, even though you didn't deserve that grace."

"I will not stand idly by while a selfish brat sitting on our throne plots to kill me," Caerulea snarled, nearly baring his fangs in frustration. There was no point in hiding his anger any longer. "The last thing I wanted to find when I followed you was a Ferox loyalist."

"You'll find plenty of those in Havenfrost, Caerulea."

He stared bitterly for a second longer before leaning back, righting himself in the saddle. There was something bubbling in him, like the pot of his emotions had finally boiled over and was desperately looking for release. And here, in front of him, sat the perfect candidate to erupt on: one of his generals, abandoning him just before the war started. It was beautifully frustrating. He had all the justification in the world to tear into Cruziana.

Instead, Caerulea glanced away. "Then, if you hate me so much, why didn't you join Ferox?"

"I'm done with war." Cruziana didn't stumble through his words. "I'm done with all of it. I'm leaving. Stop trying to stop me."

Caerulea finally let himself sigh, turning back to the other. "I can't force you to stay."

Neither man spoke for a second. The snow twirled around them, bits and pieces of flurries picked up from the piles on the ground. Tiny howls announced that the wind was beginning to pick up again, the sun easing towards the west. They'd need to head back to Havenfrost before nighttime set in.

Caerulea didn't look up as the snow crunched. Cruziana's shadow disappeared from his downcast gaze as the general headed back to his party. They were too far away to hear details, but there were low murmurs. His fingers tightened around the reigns, and Caerulea quietly turned his dragonid around.

He couldn't speak as his group parted to allow him through. They fell into formation behind him, no one speaking. What would they think of him now? He'd let one of his best generals walk away and hadn't even tried to duel him or demand his subservience. It wouldn't be too long before they, too, were cooking up mutiny and rebellion, and then he'd be alone. How would he stop Ferox then? Stress was beginning to make his breathing ragged.

Thumps in the snow announced Nouchali's approach. He kept his distance, an inch or so behind lagging behind Caerulea, but he had pulled up nearly to his leader's side. Caerulea kept his stare forwards. Considering the very idea of facing his guard made the burning feeling in his stomach worse. 

"My liege," Nouchali began.

Caerulea couldn't turn. His throat felt like it was fused shut.

"Cruziana is a coward," Nouchali continued, after the silence dragged on for too long. How could he sound so confident? "At least if he had united with Ferox, he would have kept his dignity. Instead, he turned and ran from all of High North! Do not let his words bother you."

"Too late," Caerulea finally managed, the words untangling his larynx. 

He knew better than to show any of the guards who'd accompanied him weakness, but in the moment, in that second, with the snow swirling and the wind in his airs, he felt more like the teenager he was than he had in years.

Nouchali hesitated for a second, then directed his dragonid closer so he could put a hand on Caerulea's shoulder. "You're doing the right thing. Ferox is a fool - ambitious, but a fool. He knew you could rally our people and wanted to remove you before you had a chance."

Caerulea stiffly nodded. 

"Where does he plan to go, anyways? The Cerato will put him to work, and there's no way he could make it to the Chloranthales without being captured. In his haste to avoid conflict, he's ruined his own prospects. All out of cowardice."

"I suppose."

Nouchali patted him. "Keep your jaw set, my liege. There will be more generals, and more battles to win. Cruziana is replaceable."

"It's not that," Caerulea finally managed, the words choked.

Silence.

He swallowed and continued, "Am I doing the right thing? It's not as if Ferox is a bad leader."

"He knew what he was getting into when he instilled himself as leader," Nouchali argued. "Death is inevitable."

"But perhaps I should have just taken his deal."

"No."

Caerulea turned to his guard, blinking both to keep the snow from his eyes and the tears from falling. "What?"

Nouchali's voice was bursting with pride, "No one has been born in High North with eyes like yours since the birth of our nation. You were destined for great things, Caerulea - and even if you weren't, your own convictions, your morals - they are worthy of praise. I followed you not because of your destiny, but because I believed in you."

"But that doesn't mean I'll be a better leader than Ferox."

"It doesn't, no. But I trust that you can do well, and I trust that you can unify our people better than he has. How many riots broke out in the last few months alone? Too many - and yet, they were all in your name. As soon as you announced your intentions to rebel, the people followed you. It doesn't matter what Ferox has done or what he could do - what matters is what we're reaching towards and the support of your people."

Caerulea didn't respond.

"High North does not need a field marshal sitting on its throne. The military is what caused-" he gestured, "-all of this mess. What we need is someone that the people believe in - and that is you."

"I hope you aren't lying to me," Caerulea managed, voice wavering as he reached to wipe his eyes. 

Nouchali patted his shoulder again. "I don't lie, my liege."

"...Thank you." his tone was low.

"Of course."

Caerulea gripped the reigns again, stilling the tears and projecting his voice, "Very well. Let's set into a gallop - we'll need to be back in Juard before sundown. I don't deign to enjoy spending the night with the timberbasiliks."