The journey north was arduous, but not dangerous: it seemed as if all the competing evils of the world had decided to lay their weapons aside for now, in order to flee from whatever wretched darkness had crept into their world and was denned near the northern mountains.
It was not a good sign, even if many of their soldiers took heart at it, believing that their army of warriors was great enough to frighten away the goblins and the monsters that usually patrolled these mountains for prey. But even if they were a strong and resolute force, Sol was well aware by now the battle they were marching into would be like no other they had fought.
More than that, she had a terrible creeping sensation, an instinct that something was going to go wrong, and very shortly. No, worse than that... more and more, she began to think the signs leading them north were all too obvious, that they could very well be marching straight into some kind of trap... or maybe some kind of test. They knew too little about this foe to be sure of anything...
What other choice did they have, though? Sol knew that all they could really do was hope they would learn more from this enemy than this enemy would from them... and all she was truly sure of right now was that this was only the beginning of their battle against this dark and terrible new evil.
While Sol was busying herself with planning and preparation, Titan was spending time with the troops, trying to keep their spirits up and energize them, helping with the morale of soldiers who were confident in their strength, but still unhappy to be on such a long march into alien territory... and those who weren't arrogant in their beliefs were either frightened or anxious.
Titan tried to reconcile these emotions, to bring confidence to the worried soldiers, and caution to the arrogant. But it was difficult to find the balance: they had brought so many soldiers that not even the stallion's legendary wisdom and cheer could sway the crowd. And more than that, Sol's silence seemed to encourage them: they were an army without a leader, expected to take care of themselves, left in the too-few hooves of officers who were often young and brave and bold... but those were not always good things in a soldier who was supposed to keep his fellows not just proud and dedicated, but aware of their own flaws, and of the dangers that were waiting ahead.
Morgan, lastly, had her own worries: she and her paladin lover had had an argument. It was a silly thing, small and unimportant, and yet all the same it distracted her, and made it difficult to work with not only him, but his entire order. Soon, she knew, they would reconcile: Morgan's passions burned like fire, quick and hot and fierce, but always cooled in time, and her paladin was meek-natured for all the boldness and bravado he tried to put on. It would be easy for them to swallow their anger at one another with the passage of time.
But for now, it was making it hard for Morgan to even be in camp... and what frustrated her further was Sol's anger at her for allowing her emotions to interfere with her duties. And even worse than that, was knowing that Sol had every right to be angry. Hadn't Morgan promised that exactly this would not happen? And she knew, in her heart of hearts, how foolish this was: letting a bit of spite and emotion get between her and her duties. But, she supposed, even creatures such as she had hearts, and hearts were difficult things to mend.
And yet still, the army marched on... too few realizing that fractures were already beginning to form among the ranks of an army that already was striding to the very edge of oblivion.
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