The first rays of the rising sun spread over the littered battlefield the next morning. Corpses lay strewn about in the grass, Alcontean, Kemarian, and Innutukian alike. Where the mighty legions had once stood and defended the abandoned temple, only a heaping pile of shields remained. The last plumes of smoke from the ruins wafted into the air and died off before they could merge with the clouds. 

Brant stirred and dug his way out of the heap of shields. He blinked painfully and cast a glance about. The brawny warrior's features softened as a pang of sorrow hit his heart. So many had died the night prior, their lives snatched from them by ruthless enemies who numbered in the tens of thousands. 

A headache descended upon him as he relived the last hour of the battle. The Innutukian legions had performed admirably until the enemy hordes rushed them. With sheer manpower, along with battering rams aplenty, they'd toppled the formations over. But that hadn't been the end of it. 

Brant recalled fighting through Alcontean ranks with gritted teeth and a sweaty brow, slicing at his foes with no remorse. But suddenly, they'd begun retreating. He and Ace had puzzled over it, why an army would so suddenly decide to withdraw when they possessed such a clear advantage. 

Then the bombers had swooped overhead, once the Alconteans had moved out of range. Anybody caught standing above the carpet of shields had been blown to bits, and even that protection proved itself not to be foolproof. 

Now Brant became anxious. He needed to find out who had survived, and needed to find out now. Stumbling down the expansive row of fallen soldiers, he turned shields over left and right, peeking to see who lay beneath. His feet splashed often in puddles of blood. He uncovered several Innutukians and a few Kemarians, whether sleeping, comatose, or dead, but he would not be satisfied until he found out the fate of his friends. 

Hurling one plate of metal aside, he found Wendy sprawled out atop two Innutukians with her head turned sideways. The side of her helmet had been shattered, but her nostrils moved in and out with the pattern of deep breathing, giving Brant some relief. He continued on. 

He found an unconscious Ace next, unharmed except for some scratches and a black eye. Not far down the line, he discovered General Trackenkaken lying on his back. His bloody face was exposed, his bronze helmet instead protecting Keira's head. Her body lay close by his. 

The question that burned now in Brant's mind jolted his heart into action. What about Hannah? He hurried his search. Along the way, he discovered the bald-headed Kemarian man who had so strongly suggested his ascension to leadership. As he continued on, he encountered many from his squad, men and women he hadn't known in any great detail, but had nonetheless enjoyed his interactions with and valued their service. And now they were dead. Sniffling, he continued on his way. 

Finally, Brant tossed a massive shield aside and found Hannah curled up underneath. With a wrinkled forehead, he knelt down and studied her. Other than an ugly bruise spanning between her eyebrow and hairline, she appeared unharmed. He gently turned her head and brushed a clod from her cheek. 

Hannah stirred at his touch, stretching her neck and groaning upon regaining consciousness. Brant kept his arms outstretched and ready to assist however he could. 

"Hey." he said when she met his gaze. "Are you alright?" 

She blinked and sat up. "I think so. What...oh mah goodness, what happened?" 

Brant felt his eyes suddenly moisten. "We lost. They bombed us, Hannah. And then they left. They lost some men, but proportionally, much less than us." 

"And the temple's gone too...Lord, have mercy. Is everybody alright?" 

Brant slowly nodded. "Ace's fine, Keira's fine, so're Wendy and the general. I haven't seen Aaron yet." 

Her eyes widened. "Were Baird 'n Khemera still inside?" 

"I don't know." he croaked. 

With a shuddering sigh, he rose to his feet and swept his gaze over the landscape again. Beyond the carpet of fallen shields, he finally noticed Aaron's colossus armor, opened in two halves and clearly battered. It stood as an empty husk before its wearer, who sat on a boulder in the field, head buried in his hands. Brant inhaled and sprinted over to him. 

Aaron peered at Brant through a gap in his fingers when his footsteps plodded closer. He let out a loud sigh and folded his hands in his lap. His head sagged still further. 

"I know." he groaned. 

One of Brant's eyebrows jumped. "Know what?" he asked dryly, crossing his arms. 

"I know...what I did. It was stupid. I'm an idiot." 

"You had orders, Aaron." 

Aaron rubbed the moist corner of his eye. "I did. And I disregarded them like a foolish traitor." 

"What do you mean 'like' a foolish traitor? There's no distinction to be drawn." Brant remarked. 

"True." he conceded with a quivering breath, "I don't know what came over me. See, I've faced that guy before." 

"Albatross? I know." 

"He caught me without my gear last time. And I guess...I just wanted to show him what it was like to cross me with it." 

"And everybody else had to suffer. Countless died for your pride, Aaron!" Brant snapped, "What about your sisters, who you love so dearly? Your friends?" 

A tear slithered down the sandy-haired man's cheek. "I know." 

"And not only that, but it was all in vain! You showed Albatross nothing! He withstood everything you threw at him, and only when he felt done did he disengage. He called the retreat that brought the bombers nigh. You, Aaron, are a fool. A traitor and a murderer." 

He sniffled. "I know. And see...Brant, that's what I've been realizing. I'm a freakin' hypocrite, man!" 

Gravel crunched under Brant's feet when he shifted his stance. "How so?" 

"I've had such anger, such resentment toward you, for what you did. But I'm no different! Look at me!" 

Brant nodded, but remained silent and waited for him to continue. 

"And even you merely refused to grant a request. I disobeyed orders and betrayed the Insurgence—what was left of it. It's rich coming from me, I know, but I'm sorry." 

Brant's mind raced as he eyed the distraught man before him. On the one hand, the calamity he had caused was utterly terrible, the damage incalculable. Surely, the mere words 'I'm sorry' couldn't instantaneously wash that away. But yet again, how hypocritical it would be of him to clutch a grudge to his breast as Aaron had done previously—which he now repented of. 

"But really," Aaron began, snatching Brant from his thoughts, "who am I kidding? A traitor to the Empire and a traitor to traitors. There's no honor, no forgiveness to—" 

"Aaron, I forgive you." Brant sighed. "I don't know if we can bounce back from this or not, but I know what it's like to be in your shoes, and I know I'd hate to be left unforgiven." He presented Aaron with an outstretched hand. 

After staring at his hand in hesitation for a few seconds, Aaron rose to his feet and shook it. "No hard feelings?" 

"To the best of my ability, yes." 

"That's an honest answer." 

"I'm known to give them." Brant remarked as he turned to head back to the littered battlefield, "Now, we should search that pile and find out just what's left of us." 

The two ambled back to the heap of shields together, neither speaking a word. Only the chirping of songbirds and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze filled the air, along with the soft squish of dew-laden grass beneath their feet. 

Once they'd come close to their destination, the serenity was shattered. A pair of shields flew out from the pile and crashed aside. Ace rose from the ground with a scowl on his face, which he soon directed at Aaron. 

"You did this!" he roared, taking several threatening steps Aaron's way, "Look at this! This is—" 

"He knows." Brant interrupted, sliding to intercept his path. "And he's sorry. So please, don't bother him." 

"Some apology." he muttered, "What? He promised to buy you a mansion or something? Clone Hannah?" 

"No, he apologized and explained what he knew to be his faults." 

Aaron cleared his throat. "And I don't intend to only say sorry. I mean to do sorry." 

"Whatever that means." 

Aaron opened his mouth to reply, but then he spotted Hannah making her way through the difficult path between himself and her. He closed the distance and snatched her into his arms. He visibly shuddered as they embraced. 

Brant jolted when he felt Ace tug his sleeve. He allowed himself to be pulled aside, out of earshot. 

"You've lost your mind." he asserted, "After what he did—" 

"He laid out exactly why he was wrong, and that he was ashamed of it. What more is there to ask?" 

"Typically, such insubordination has consequences." 

Brant frowned. "Typically, an army isn't run by rebelling citizens, backed by foreign troops, and funded by a dwindling pool of money from a now-dead princess. Besides, how hypocritical of me to refuse him! We're still recovering from the consequences of me doing similarly!" 

Ace dug in his pocket, where his cigarette box typically awaited his fingers, but his hand emerged empty. "Well gee, what's next? What, we're gonna run into another skirmish and Simple Jack's gonna get some crazy notion in his head and disobey orders over it? And we'll suffer another catastrophe like this one and you'll forgive him just because he says sorry too?" 

"I already told you, Ace, I forgave him. You're perfectly at liberty not to follow my example, but for the welfare and productivity of those who remain, I'd advise against it." 

Ace narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips to a thinner line, but said nothing. 

Brant brushed his hands across his pant legs. "Well, we're gonna search the piles over here. Would you mind taking a peek at the overturned cars and see if we've got any survivors hiding it out over there?" 

"Sure." 

With that, Brant watched Ace cross the grassy field, shoulders slumped and gait irregular. Now, not only did he have to worry about the size of his team, but the integrity of it as well. He sighed and brought his gaze closer to home and saw that Aaron and Hannah had just parted. Giving them a nod, he began overturning soldiers and checking their pulses. They followed suit.

******************** 

A/N: This chapter has always struck me as rather raw, like ripping a bandage off a wound. And if it hit you that way too, well, I guess I did a good job, because that's what I was aiming for. 

If you enjoyed that one, please do remember to vote and comment, please and thank you. 😁 

Now, any thoughts on the Brant/Aaron angle to this chapter? Did it feel cathartic for you? 

And as for random questions, I don't know about when you're reading this, but for me, it's the morning that ushers in a three-day Memorial Day weekend. Anyway, what are your plans for this weekend? 

(Not much for me, honestly. Probably just some playing with my little brother in the yard if the weather turns out nice.) 

Well, I hope you have an amazing day, and do come back for tomorrow's update to see the rest of these peoples' recovery from that devastating battle. Hope to see you there!