Breaking an Empire by James Tallett

let’s get you food and rest.” The two soldiers departed, readying themselves for what tomorrow would bring.
    ***
    The next morning saw the squad taking their place as the vanguard of the army, leading the march towards Niam Liad. Rhyfelwyr fell into a steady pace, giving his mind leave to wander. He had spent many a day in such a state, and today he wondered at his life. He was, charitably, heading towards late middle age, and had been fighting for a great many years, but he had nothing. He had no house, no family, and his only friends were fellow soldiers. At this point, they were the only connection beyond himself, and he was probably theirs. The squad had been through so many years together, resisting all attempts to promote them or break them apart.
    The sergeant pondered what it would be like to have a family, to find someone who loved him, to have a child he could play with, to know peace. He sighed and shook his head. That dream should have died long ago. He had made his choice, enrolling over and over again, well past the required years of service. At the end of each campaign, he was offered retirement, and each time he turned it down, instead walking back into the field, sword and shield in hand. Perhaps he was afraid of civilian life, but whatever the reason, he turned away from peace, and back to war.
    Rhyfelwyr’s thoughts continued in that vein for many hours, and his face was pensive when the tents went up that evening. Locsyn and Taflen saw the expression and exchanged glances, knowing full well what it meant. Everyone in the squad had that look at times, even Llofruddiwr, although with him it was hard to tell what it meant. The two of them grabbed Gwyth and went to find a fire to drink at, leaving the sergeant to his thoughts. The assassin, as usual, was nowhere to be found.
    ***
    Nights passed in thick profusion, until Glanhaol Fflamboethi stood but a few days outside the walls of Niam Liad. Officers tripled patrols, although they were less patrols than raiding parties. With the information from Llofruddiwr, some patrols went north, looking for the army that came behind. Reports arrived from the scouts, confirming what the assassin had guessed: Niam Liad was occupied by archers and airmages, and to the north lay the great mass of the Lianese. The Veryan army settled down and dug a small fortress, building fortifications atop a hill while the officers sat in conference and argued strategy. The debate lasted many hours, and it was early in the morning of the next day when Rhocas arrived, bearing orders for Rhyfelwyr and his squad.
    “Come back to us at last, have you?”
    Rhocas shook his head. “Other way around. Your squad and a few more have been assigned to keep me and some other mages safe. Mostly from archers and Lianese mages, or as a last reserve. We head for Niam Liad today.”
    Rhy nodded. He’d known they would go for the city first. That was the mistake the Lianese had made, thinking they could kill the Veryan soldiers before the city was destroyed. Their army might destroy Glanhaol Fflamboethi afterward, but Niam Liad would be a ruin. “Burning?”
    “To the ground.” Rhocas departed, to gather the other squads that would join with him. The squad packed their belongings, readying themselves for march. Tomorrow would be quite a day.
    ***
    The next morning saw the whole army on the move. The scouts were pulled in tight, within shouting distance of the main corps. There was no reason to lose soldiers, not now. The firemages were spread amongst the army, little knots here and there, spaced well apart so that the airmages of Niam Liad could not strike them all down.
    The land around Niam Liad was rolling plains and moors, grasslands once full of grain and cattle, but now burned to the ground. The ash crunched underfoot, as not quite burned stalks shattered and broke. Taflen wondered at the significance of marching to war on a bed of ash, and thought someday he would have to write on the