Chapter 22: The Angel in the Wind
When they reached a sloping field dotted with wildflowers and short trees, Batu raised a hand and called out, "Let's rest here. The horses need water. And so do we."
Elowen guided the horse to a wide tree, and together she and Liora dismounted. The girl barely stood on her own feet, her body heavy with exhaustion.
They settled under the tree, and Elowen pulled Liora close. "You and I could use a nap too, right?" she said softly, already sinking into the warm grass. Liora didn't answer. Her tears had dried, but her soul still felt stormy.
They slept. Or at least Elowen did. Liora's sleep was shallow, disturbed by flashes of memory—screaming goblins, blood on her hands, a child's face she didn't recognize staring back in fear.
When she finally opened her eyes, the sun had shifted, and Elowen was still dozing peacefully. Fifty meters away, General Batu stood near a small puddle, tending to the horses.
Liora rose quietly, careful not to wake Elowen, and walked toward him. Her footsteps crunched lightly on the dry grass. She found a small, round stone nearby and sat, not looking at the general.
"Are you okay, girl?" Batu asked, without turning. "Yeah... somewhat," she murmured. He chuckled, low and amused. "Good for you, then."
There was a long pause. "You and the other generals..." Liora said. "You're strong, right? Do you... enjoy killing things? Being brutal?"
Batu shrugged nonchalantly. "Strong or weak is just a matter of perspective, i suppose to someone weaker than me, I may appear strong. But to someone better, I'm probably still lacking." He paused, letting the idea sink in before continuing.
"As for enjoying killing and being brutal..." He trailed off, studying her reaction closely.
"I think you're viewing us through the lens of Sanctoran culture. We're not inherently brutal or bloodthirsty—we're simply free-spirited people shaped by our history and traditions. We take pride in what we do—even if it's hunting goblins."