Bleeding Heart

It was a morning of bleeding.

Mages bled streams of crimson, painting the battlefield and leeching away what strength yet remained as the sun rose.

Risen corpses bled clotted black sludge, tainting the battlefield and haunting the memories of those that had lived to bear witness.

Time bled in uneven rivers, wiping away the horrors of the battlefield and beginning the process of blurring away the memories of that awful night.

By the look on the faces of the mages that trudged wearily along the streaked and tattered ground, that process would take the better part of a decade for most, longer for some.

John found himself in his familiar seat, at his familiar campsite, with an unfamiliar pallor hanging over all three factions. The morning was bright, yet blurry. Sunlight streamed into the camp through the Barrier's boundaries, in the way that sunlight somehow always passed through despite the solid seams of the borders between worlds, but it was tainted, sickly. There was a hazy pallor to it that spoke of the horrific burning mounds piled high outside the Barrier's boundary lines.

"That foulness even contaminates the sunlight within our own Barrier." Kim sneered at the skyline above, at the strangely muted sunlight streaming from above. "Even if their reserves are as vast as the captive reported, we must surely have put a dent into their numbers after last night."

"I agree. But it doesn't do us any good while we're stuck here." John mirrored her expression, though his eyes remained fixed on the others around them. "Until we can move to take advantage of any thinning in their forces, they're free to rebuild at their leisure."

"And I would not speak so loudly about 'foul' things. Not all the bodies that are burning are those of the Northern Ashes' creations." Kwang did not adjust his stance or his expression. Everyone else's fell slightly at the reminder.

The night was not without its victories. To some degree, though they could not know with any real precision, they had destroyed a considerable number of undead through the course of the night. And Kwang's mission to hunt the necromancers that pressed their forces ahead had been successful as well. A half-dozen necromancers fell to his blade, and two more committed suicide before capture—those had been the ones Adantia had detected unexpectedly while steadying the front lines.

But all that had come at a great cost. Dozens of Great Plains Alliance mages had fallen—more than the night of the first risen mage, more, perhaps, than had been killed since Adantia's fall. They would not share their numbers openly, but John had heard one mage murmuring about "two dozen dead or lost in the night", and John had reason to believe them. While the stillness along the lines of the GPA camp could be explained by the somber mood and the wounded resting in the early hours, John wondered how many men and women were simply no longer around to tend their duties.

None of the rest of them had escaped unscathed either. Adantia had come back bloodied in a dozen places, though none of the wounds seemed to slow her much. She was still sleeping even now, resting inside her cocoon of cables, sleeping off the long night's exertions. John's body bore no scars, as usual, but his health still had yet to fully recover from the numerous wounds. The nekos had the worst of it; their close-quarters fighting and their lower levels had pushed them to their limits. He'd dismissed them back to the new world the moment that Lord Brighton returned, despite Maera's objections.

Lerianna and Sophia fared better, but Lerianna still ended the night with an arm in a sling and heavily bandaged after a whip made out of bone and tendon had nearly ripped the limb off entirely. The rest of them had been pained, but functional when the sun rose at last—with the exception of Etriyya, who had managed to burst open her forearm with one of her own spells. She did not deny the use of her fate-altering magic when pressed. Moira didn't bother with a lecture. She had dead to bury.

Seven, by her count. Seven Order troops lost. The Springfield branch of the Order had never been a large one, and seven lost knights was a rattling blow that was evident through every interaction in their ranks. Empty seats at their campfires, extra bowls at meals no longer needed, tents somberly taken down over the course of the day. Belongings handled like sacred artifacts as they were carried away.

While Moira tended to the matter of grief and a proper funeral for the honorable fallen, John took it upon himself to seek out Sevitus. He left the others behind to rest and ventured into the alliance's temporary settlements himself. A few looked his way as he passed, often peering out from within their own dwellings. None met his eyes longer than a second, none bothered to approach and ask his business.

He found the scraggly mage in a tent toward the western edge of the GPA forces, knelt over a wounded soldier. Sevitus was tending to the woman's wounds despite bearing plenty of his own. He was not bandaged or bound, but his cheek bore a fresh scar, and the tatters of his armor spoke to further injuries on skin John could not see immediately. The GPA officer looked up when John entered, but did not speak.

"You need to contact anyone you can, and tell them to send more Fateweavers," John pressed directly, seeing no use for pleasantries. "Until they do, this will keep happening."

"I don't have the authority to give that kind of order." Sevitus sounded more bitter than John had expected. There was a crease forming in the grooves of his eyes where frustration had carved paths once guarded by indignation and confidence. "They won't listen to me any better than they listen to Gerry, or to you."

"We need every voice on this. The fools are-"

"We are following our orders. That is all that can be done!" Sevitus snapped.

"The orders are for you to stand at our side and die along with us." John grimaced, but didn't relent. "The Northern Ashes are targeting us. The fact that we're stuck here maintaining this Barrier, when it doesn't even function the way that your Fateweavers need, means that they know exactly where to find us. And that means they know where to find you. They ordered you to stay here, didn't they? They don't trust us to hold their territory alone, or else they would have already reassigned you to reinforce the other areas. Wouldn't they?"

Sevitus' silence was more than answer enough, but it was clear he would not be contributing more than that quiet stare. John stood a moment longer, grip tightening on the canvas of the entrance, then turned and stormed away.

"Fools know how critical we are and are so busy fighting the shadows and their fear of one another that they cannot prioritize the one that will ruin us all."

The anger burned like a flash-fire, tearing through him and burning itself out in a matter of moments. There was no point in being angry at Sevitus, and there was no benefit in stewing in rage at the council, even if they were here. Things had to change, and impotent fury accomplished nothing.

"We need to force their hand." John made the announcement as soon as he was back at their gathering spot. Moira and Lord Brighton were still absent, but Kim and Kwang sat close by to those of John's family that had not returned to their world.

"You will have to be more specific." Kim's brown eyes shifted from a dull reflection to shimmering interest at John's tone. "Who is it that we are forcing, and when?"

"The alliance. And as soon as possible," John grunted. "The whole point of this Barrier was to give them a few days of rest for their Fateweavers. We've long passed that point, and they have no intention of taking that responsibility back, no matter how much sense it makes. From the way Adantia talks about them, I have no doubt every person on that council is too busy managing their own fears and paranoia to properly think in a tactical sense. We need to force them to make the right choice."

"Finally." The voice called from a distance, but the smugness and the tone made it difficult to mistake. "I was wondering when you'd come to your senses."

"Julianna," John greeted. His eyes narrowed, but he managed to keep the word at a low growl rather than the snarl it aspired to be. "You fared well last night. How were the Legion's–"

"Our matters are our matters. We are strong enough to continue the fight, but only if it is handled with more intelligence than has been turned its way so far." Julianna cut him off with a raised hand, one John allowed himself to heed only because the pleasantries were clearly pointless anyway. "We are at a rare opportunity here. The Northern Ashes will face numerous challenges in the aftermath of last night's battle, and their forces will be weakened, perhaps beyond what has been seen since before Adantia fled the battlefield."

"They have over three hundred necromancers, we heard it ourselves," John piped in.

"And we do not know their individual strengths," Kwang cautioned. "While I was able to slay a few of their numbers, we cannot say with any certainty how much of their overall strength was exerted last night, nor how much remains. I have heard no tales of Xanthia taking part on the battlefield, and only rumors of this 'Bella' that acts as her second in command. They may have further reserves to draw upon yet."

"Even if they have more creations stowed in their strongholds, even if there are other necromancers with similar legions awaiting, they will need to rotate those mages in." Julianna did not allow doubt to show itself in her voice, body, or the fire in her gaze. "That means necromancers traveling to and from the front, potentially vulnerable, if only for a few moments at a time. We have a limited amount of time to begin planning a strike. We need to dismiss this Barrier and consult Adantia to find out what the likelihood of them having enough forces left to defend themselves might be, before we squander this opportunity."

"If you want to run off to die, we're not going to stop you," John said neutrally. "But until we discuss matters with the others, there's no point in coming up with a plan to–"

"There is no need for discussion. This is an opportunity we cannot afford to miss," Julianna interjected once more, her eyes leaving John almost as soon as they'd landed upon him. "If we are not willing to press our enemy when they underestimate us, then there is no reason to be here at all. We must take advantage, or we may well be better off surrendering now and praying for mercy."

"And if their forces are still plentiful enough to cull us twice as effectively on the offensive?" John suggested. "What if their Fateweaving skills are more considerable than we're aware? Or what if this was all a bait to get us to do exactly what you're suggesting, and they lie in wait with an ambush?"

"If what they sent forth last night was merely what they consider a 'bait', then we truly are better off surrendering," Julianna growled. "We can discuss your fears until the sun has set and risen again, John Newman, and all we will accomplish is wasting our opportunity. Time cannot continue to be squandered away with defensive positions that do nothing but allow our enemy to pick us away at their leisure. Our forces must-"

"Our forces?" John's interruption goaded a reaction out of Julianna beyond callous indifference at last. Her eyes narrowed, and John hastened his words before she could try to regain her momentum. "Since you showed up, you've constantly wandered into our camp, informed us of everything we're fucking up, and ordered us around like you're the one leading this expedition, instead of a guest that invited themselves along."

"John." Lord Brighton's deep voice cut through the tension, but could not dispel it. Neither John nor Julianna looked toward him longer than an instant.

"Better for you to have a leader by force than the collective that continues to make no decision," Julianna spat. "You know that I am right, and yet you continue to sit here and pray that things will change tomorrow, without being ready to take the necessary action to make it so!"

"Perhaps you are right," John conceded through clenched teeth. "But we will decide that for ourselves, and you would better spend your energy readying your Legion than antagonizing those you relied on to get here."

"I have relied on no one but the strength of our ranks, and I will treat you with precisely the level of respect and consideration for your intelligence that I have seen demonstrated thus far. For what I have seen out of you, John Newman, I consider my conduct thus far unnecessarily polite." Julianna sneered at him. There was, perhaps, less venom in it than usual, but she held herself with the agitated demeanor of a raised viper. "If you do not wish to listen to common sense, that is your decision to make. I will take the rest of the Legion with me and be gone, and all the better for it. I did not lead my soldiers here to be whittled away and spent for a war that no one has the will to win. "

"No, you didn't," John agreed. "You brought them here because I risked my life to give us a chance to win, because the Order and the Moon Clan wanted to fight for their homes. You're here because we showed you that there was a chance, and you believed in that chance enough to invite yourself along for the ride."

"Yes. And perhaps you're not the only one who has made poor judgments in that regard," Julianna scoffed.

John's face tightened. He kept himself still through significant restraint. He heard Sophia shifting at his side, her body tense, eyes blazing crimson. Kwang shifted ever so slightly, favoring one hip forward, his eyes focused on the midpoint between John and Julianna.

"We will decide what must be done soon enough. After the dead are buried and burned. After we have discussed all our options." The heat of the Shard pulsed once through John. Not an incandescent blaze—a calm, tempered heat, the certainty of steel, the flames of the forge licking at his soul. "We'll decide when we're ready, and when all of us have agreed to it. If you have a problem with that, you're welcome to run away from this place as you and your mages were so eager to do before."

"...I would remind you of your previous mistakes. Choose your next words carefully," Julianna warned. Her hands, which had been clenched into fists, loosened slightly—only enough to grip the handle of her blade, her gauntlets creaking as her fingers came to rest on the hilt.

"Your 'Forgotten Legion' did not make contact with the Order, nor the Moon Clan, nor anyone else whose fate was shared with yours." John's words emerged at a slow and steady clip, his voice more level than he had expected. "At the first sign of trouble, you tucked your tails and abandoned your homes like frightened pups. We did not invite you to this war, Julianna. You came crawling into it because we showed you it could be won."

Julianna's grip on the hilt tightened. John didn't stop. A part of him wondered if he should. But the idea of allowing her behavior to continue filled him with a disgust that went beyond mere anger at her bluntness.

"And now you stand in our camp and demand command of forces that were holding this line before you arrived, and would hold it after you left. You speak of your soldiers being spent. They were not spent here on some frivolous pursuit. They were brought here. By you. To a war you did not have the courage to face until someone else cleared the way. If you want to lead somewhere, lead your mages away from danger. That seems to be the route you're most comfortable with."

Eyes widened and turned toward John from all directions. He could feel their gazes, hear the shift of garments. For a breath, there was silence. Then Moira took a half-step forward, one hand reaching toward John, the other toward the charm dangling from her necklace.

"John, perhaps we should– Lady!"

The Warden's words were shattered by the clang and tremor of steel meeting steel.

There was no guessing the angle this time, no testing his resolve against Julianna's steel. John met the swing of Julianna's blade with his own, and when the Fang of the New World met her oversized greatsword, the entire camp echoed with the ruinous sound. Around them, the entire camp jolted. Sophia was at his side in a moment, body half-turned, ready to aid him or throw herself at Julianna, whatever seemed the more useful movement. Lerianna and Vallya took to their feet. Kim practically leaped to hers, hand on the grip of her blade. Kwang's stance became more deliberate, the fingers on his right hand twitching briefly as he watched the struggle.

Julianna's face was twisted with fury in a way that John had not seen before, even when she had last drawn her blade against him. Her brows were drawn together, her lips twisted, teeth bared, for a moment finally looking as feral as her fighting style had always implied.

The weight against John's sword was tremendous at the moment of impact, but he held it, every tendon in his arms drawn tight from the strength needed to halt the blow without diverting it. The blades clattered and shook as Julianna pressed harder, trying to drive the blade home. John held his ground and didn't give her a single inch. He refused to move from his position, to be shoved aside.

"You would dare speak of the Forgotten Legion abandoning their homes?!" Julianna snarled. The absence of her composure was more alarming than the fury itself. "You would call me a coward, insult my leadership, all because I refuse to sit idly and wait for the slaughter?"

"You both need to calm down," Moira called out, stepping forward. She seemed ready to put herself between the clashing blades, but a hand from Lord Brighton stilled her. "This is madness! We have a common enemy, there is no sense in-"

"That enemy is clearly all we have in common," Julianna spat. "I will not sit here and have a whelp still fresh to the Abyss claim that my options are to sit idly and comply with these foolish delays, or be branded a coward and a fool for seeing the sense you've all blinded yourselves to!"

"We have already acknowledged that something needs to change. I never said you were wrong, Julianna, you're just being a real bitch about it!" Lerianna spun to face John, an eyebrow quirked, half a smirk formed on her face. Vallya's grin was open and unashamed. "Your ideas aren't the problem. But I'm not going to continue to sit here and let you pretend that you're in charge of this operation. Nearly every day since your arrival, you've strode into this camp to hurl insults and make demands. We are not yours to decide. Lead the Legion how you wish. But the Order's men are the responsibility of Moira and her father, and the rest of us are in charge of our own lives. If you can't accept that, then I've already laid out your options."

"I choose another," Julianna announced, finally taking a half-step back, lifting her blade away from John's. He was surprised by the withdrawal, but managed to not tumble off-balance when the pressure was removed. "I challenge you to a duel, John Newman. Meet me in one hour between our encampments. You have besmirched my honor and tarnished the name of the Legion, John Newman."

"We should not waste our energy fighting one another. This is pointless," Kwang sniped, body still tensed. Julianna had not sheathed her blade, and half the group still seemed ready for a second swing.

"This does nothing to aid us in our efforts to end this war," Lord Brighton agreed.

"The war is separate now. Whether we continue our efforts together or go our separate ways, I cannot allow this to stand. This is a matter of dignity and honor. I will not walk away from being disgraced like this," Julianna seethed.

"Fine by me," John cut in. "I've been putting up with your remarks for weeks now. If you're so thin-skinned you feel the need to draw steel after being called out on your behavior, then you're only making it worse on yourself. But you're right. This needs to end. One way or another."

"If you are not ready in an hour, I will come find you myself." Julianna turned with that, weapon still drawn. A jerky hand signal to her followers had the honor guard falling into step, their pacing slightly off, their heads rigid and fixed away from the campsite.

"...John, why could you not just-"

"I do not want to be having arguments like this when we're in enemy territory. And to end this war, we will have to go into enemy territory," John said quietly. All the heat in his tone had vanished, snuffed out the moment that Julianna walked away. His eyes were steady and his breathing even when he turned to Moira, and while no smile graced his features, Moira found none of the wild-eyed frenzy she half-expected. "Today is about fixing the cohesion of our group. For the Great Plains Alliance, that means forcing their hand and showing their rank and file that there need to be changes, that we have to work together. For Julianna, that means putting all this animosity to bed, whether by her leaving or finally accepting that she cannot take command through sheer bravado and force of personality. This duel might just help with both."

"You planned on her challenging you?" Moira heaved a great sigh, voice warbling between disbelief and the exhausted certainty of a woman long past being surprised by the man before her.

"I didn't plan on a duel, no," John admitted, a trace of a smile twisting his lips. "But I planned on something finally reaching its breaking point. Adantia said it herself, long before we got here—the reason she couldn't make an offensive push of any real significance was because she didn't trust the GPA enough. We can't plan around taking their territory as a united force if we cannot trust the Legion to go along with the plan, and we can't make our own plans reliably if they're rampaging around at their leisure. One way or another, whether Julianna stays or goes, we will be able to plan for what lies ahead after today. Of that, I feel certain."

"Father." A hand clasped over John's left shoulder. Wings brushed against his back, whether intentionally or accidentally, he could not tell. The fingers squeezed firmly. John sighed.

"Sophia, I know this is a bit much, but I swear I'm not-"

"I was not going to question your judgment, Father," Sophia murmured.

"Then...?"