Homecoming

It was as she said it would be. Marshal Benjamin led the parade through the capital. He compelled Zebulun to ride on his right side.

They wove their way through the outer city. Squat stone buildings lined streets of compacted earth. Men cheered them all the way. Some women looked at him with admiration; others, with lust. Some blew kisses. He kept his eyes forward.

They passed through the second wall to the inner city. Taller, more luxurious buildings dominated the scenery. The parade watchers dressed in finer clothes. Their cheers were more subdued.

As the parade approached the palace, the king flew circles and figure-eights overhead on his dragon Aurelius. Fire poured from the winged serpent’s mouth to light the evening sky. The crowd cheered.

The victory celebration in the palace was a grand affair. Beer and wine flowed like water. Lords and princes and their ladies danced to harps and lutes as the common folk blew horns in the streets down below. The city was jubilant. The war was over.

Zebulun stood on the edge of the room. He was approached and praised by lords, princes, wealthy merchants, and minor functionaries of the kingdom. Many said to let them know if there was anything they could do for him. He wondered what they wanted him to do for them. Wealthy women introduced him to their stunning daughters of marrying age. He wondered less about that.

Later that evening, he stood alone on a balcony, looking out over the city. "There you are," said the marshal’s voice behind him.

Zebulun turned and bowed. "No need for formality," said the marshal. "It’s a party, and I’m full of wine."

Zebulun nodded, then turned to look again at the city. The celebrations had waned, but not everywhere.

"It’s a lovely view," said Benjamin. "Do you like the city, Zeb? Or do you prefer the country? You grew up in a tiny village, didn’t you?"

"Yes," said Zebulun. "The village of Koh. About 200 people, and far from the capital."

"Do you ever long to return there, or do you prefer life in the big city? Or something in between?"

"I don’t know," Zebulun replied. "I’ve been with the army since I was fourteen. Never had much say in where I lived."

"How old are you?" asked the marshal.

"Thirty-seven."

"And you’ve never married? Sired children?"

"No."

"Any interest?"

"I suppose," said Zebulun, "but there hasn’t been much chance. Been moved around a lot. And I have no land or money."

"I think that’s all about to change, Captain. You’re a celebrity now — the hero of the final battle that ended the war, whose quick thinking and tactical genius turned a defeat into a victory."

"I need no reward," said Zebulun. "I was doing my duty."

"For sure," said the marshal. "And honor is its own reward, but it won’t give you the land or money to raise a family in comfort. I suspect the king will. He likes to reward exceptional competence, hoping it will inspire more. That’s why I asked about your preferences — so I’ll know what to tell him when he asks me."

Benjamin took a sip of his wine. "He’ll be suspicious of you if you turn it down," he laughed.

Zebulun said nothing. He stared at the horizon.

Marshal Benjamin furrowed his brow. "What’s bothering you, Captain?"

"Hm?"

"You’re unusually quiet tonight, even for you. Something on your mind?"

Zebulun thought a moment. "Those woods," he said, "near the last battle."

"What about them?"

"They belong to the Principality of Kanaark. Do you think the kingdom will annex them?"

"Definitely," said Benjamin. "The king wants to build a huge navy. That takes lumber, and the eastern wood is the largest source nearby. I’ll be amazed if we don’t demand them as part of the peace terms."

"The locals say no one lives there," said Zebulun. "That it’s full of elves, goblins, and spirits."

"Rural folk say a lot of things," said the marshal. "Many still pray to their ancestors instead of the gods."

"Do you pray to the gods?" asked Zebulun.

"Sure," said the marshal, "Every time I go to temple. So, not that often."

"I met someone who said otherwise," said Zebulun. "She said people do live there."

"Well," said Benjamin, "I hope they’re not too attached to it. Half that forest is about to be cut down to make the largest navy in the known world. Our king has ambitions."

"She also said the local legends have some truth to them," said Zebulun.

"Of course she would say so," said the marshal, "if she wants us to stay out of her territory. Did this mysterious woman say anything else?"

"She said the fair folk serve the dragons, rather than the other way around."

"I’ve heard that one before."

"Do you believe it?" asked Zebulun.

The marshal grinned and gulped down the last of his wine. "I don’t know, Zeb. Does it matter? Whoever or whatever is really in charge, we enforce their will upon the world. The things we do are the same regardless."

Zebulun sipped his wine and looked up at the stars, stroking his beard.

The marshal clapped him on the back. "I need more wine, son. Talk to you again soon."

Zebulun nodded respectfully. The marshal went inside. The captain stared up at the stars for some time.