The first patrols had been quiet. Ming Saa had been serving in the Crimson Army since he was fourteen. His parents had both died wearing the uniform. His father commanding archers at the Battle of Twisted Hollow, and his mother leading soldiers in a charge along the banks of the Blue River, her body swept away by the currents before there was any hope of saving her.
Ming Saa's saving grace had been his age. Fourteen was the youngest anyone was allowed to enter training for the Crimson Army, though they weren't allowed in actual battles until they were sixteen. He'd gotten lucky with a brief peace and hadn't seen battle until he was eighteen, married, and a father of several months.
It had been a terrifying experience, and he'd been so worried about not making it back to see family again and so worried about the enemy in front of him. Screaming, tattooed menaces who wanted to burn the whole world down. Ming Saa had lost two dear friends to their poisoned arrows and spent hours fighting in a filthy mixture of mud, blood, and bodily fluids that he preferred not to think about.
He'd acquitted himself with honor and earned a promotion in that first battle, and then he'd gone home and cried like a baby in his wife's arms.
Twenty years later, he still had nightmares about his first battle. Even the ones that had come after, that were much, much worse, didn't appear as often as his first.
Now he had four children, the oldest of whom was about to have children of her own, and his wife had made them a beautiful home that he always looked forward to returning to.
They'd both been disappointed that he'd had to return early, but it was his duty. That morning, she'd helped him put on his armor like she always did when he left. He was five years from retirement, and after the brutality of the last war, they'd both hoped it would be a quiet end to his career.
Even as the first arrow embedded itself in his neck, slicing through the artery and his windpipe, he was still thinking of her. The way the lamplight had turned her hair to a burnished gold. The sleep that still clung to her eyes. She'd started to sleep in now that their children weren't waking her at the crack of dawn. He tried to get her to stay in bed, to enjoy her rest.
The second arrow caught him under the arm, between the joints of his armor, as he reached for the first arrow.
The screams around him were faraway things, drowned out by her voice as she'd teased him about his inability to put on his armor without her help after so long. She'd been so pleased she could help him
And he'd been so pleased that she still didn't know that he knew exactly how to put on his armor without help. That he'd drilled on it relentlessly when he'd first started training and could do it in his sleep.
He didn't feel the ground as he hit the dirt.
Or his horse as the poor animal fell on top of him, felled by arrows in its neck and chest.
He'd had that mare for seven years. The best mount he'd had in his career. Steady and fearless, she'd carried him across the world and back again.
She deserved better.
His wife's laughter came to him then, deep and melodic. She'd been embarrassed by it as a child; as an adult, she'd embraced what she called her drunken brawler's laugh.
It was his favorite sound in the world.
It drowned everything out.
Even the cries of his men, the whistles of arrows, and the battle cries of the attacking Bandri.
***
"I think it's a brilliant idea," Helena said when she'd joined them and they'd told her of Chenzhou's idea.
Eirian still looked wary, and Eric was mostly thoughtful, but the longer they talked about it, the more certain Chenzhou became that it was the best path forward.
"He's going to be a pawn no matter what. At least with us, he'll be protected. He could have a happier childhood than either of us." Chenzhou almost regrets bringing that up at the flash of pain that crosses Eirian's face.
But she stays quiet, staring at the wall and clearly lost in her thoughts.
Eric hums thoughtfully. "It's hard to imagine you two being worse parents than Uncle and his child bride."
"She's of legal age." Helena chidded, sounding more amused than disapproving. "Dislike them accurately. It's more effective."
"I'm not good with kids," Eirian pointed out.
"I have no experience with them," Chenzhou offered. "But we can learn. You're so brilliant, you can learn anything."
Eirian fake gagged at him, but there was a smile lingering at the edges.
"No amount of preparation prepares you for children. And you have to learn all over with each new one." Helena weighed in.
"He'd be safer at the Camelia," Eric added. "Uncle's schemes are bound to backfire on him at some point."
"If you're going to move him, best to do it now," Will muttered. "When he's too young to have formed attachments."
They all fell silent at a knock on the door. Expecting Francis, Eric straightened his jacket, and Eirian sat up in her seat.
A messenger stepped inside, dropped into a bow, and presented a letter with a shiny wax seal in the shape of a sun.
Eric and Eirian groaned.
Even Helena didn't bother to hide the curl of her lip.
Will accepted the letter, signalling Chenzhou to stay seated when he started to stand, and brought it to Eric.
The messenger left without a word as Eric tore it open.
Chenzhou shared a worried look with Eirian when Eric's ace stayed carefully blank as his eyes moved over the page.
Eirian leaned over and poked her cousin in the shoulder after another minute of silence. "Well?"
Eric took a deep breath, trying to get himself under control. "It seems Uncle has decided to throw a ball in my honor."
~ tbc