Getting up, Damian went to the washroom, accompanied by a guard soldier who stayed with him the whole way following behind. He met the pretty maid on the way; she stopped him with a hand gesture.
“Bring him to the dining room once he’s done,” she instructed the soldier. Then she gave Damian a look and turned away.
As instructed, the armored soldier brought him to another highly decorated room with a large dining table surrounded by chairs and nothing else, the whole room was empty besides the table. The walls as in the hall below were decorated with utmost care. The maid was already there. She nodded at the soldier, who backed away and stood in a corner of the room.
Damian, unsure of what to do and still feeling pain on his back, walked a bit into the windowless room looking around.
“Here…” she said, getting his attention.
Damian approached her as she gestured for him to sit in the opposite chair. Once he was settled, she served some breakfast on a plate and handed it to him with a glass of juice. It wasn’t the best but it far surpassed what the soldiers with whom he had traveled in Valoris’s lead made everyday.
Returning to her chair, she looked at him as Damian, remembering that he hadn’t eaten in a while, ignored the pain and continued eating.
“You are to serve as Lady Vidalia’s cupbearer. Do you know what that means?” she asked after a minute, allowing him to eat in peace.
Damian looked up. She did not seem afraid or angry; her expression was neutral, making it hard to gauge what she was thinking. Either she was truly brave or her skills were beyond brilliant—most likely the latter. To her, he was just another chore she was assigned to. He had to give it to people of Eldoris and the royal elf family, everyone worshipped them as if they were their gods.
The loyalty for their country in this kingdom was at it’s highest compared to others.
“Does she really have no one better to serve her wine?” Damian replied, continuing to eat.
“Do not question Lady Vidalia’s orders. That will be your first lesson. She is the reason you are still alive.”
Well, that wasn’t wrong. Not that he had much choice. Serving wine was far better than being hanged or imprisoned in a cold cell. So he nodded without resistance.
“You do as she wishes. You must keep an eye on each of her gestures. No one will tell you when to refill her cup or others’. Don’t worry, I will teach you how to do it. Until you get the hang of it, I will be with you.”
She began giving speeches on how best to serve her lady, and once he had finished eating, they practiced the graceful, or rather comically fancy, way of pouring wine. It was a good distraction from his aching back, so Damian followed along and did everything she taught him all day.
The cup bearer job was much more annoying than he had thought, she went on and on about techniques and manner and what not.
After half a day, Damian sensed the familiar mana signatures returning one by one to the central part of the camp, along with the commander herself. He was free enough to wander around while she worked on her chores and lectured him, but not enough to go far; the soldier always followed behind wherever he went. There was a window in this third room that she was thoroughly cleaning for the day.
Damian walked up to it and looked down.
He noticed some familiar faces from the meeting returning with their knights, all bruised and battered. Their armors were bent out of shape, bloodied weapons in hand, and their faces a mess, as they had removed their helmets and were carrying them, looking tired and exhausted.
Damian did not catch a glimpse of the commander, being on the other side of the building, but he sensed her presence as she entered her building and made her way to the fourth floor. Her stay on the third floor was longer than the others—maybe she was revising her mental connection with him or checking if he was still sealed up and miserable.
Another maid came to call for the maid who had been instructing him, so she left with her, concluding the lesson and ordering the soldier to take him back to his small room. Damian was also getting tired of hearing about Lady Vidalia from her, so he felt relieved. He followed the soldier back to his cell happily.
If all the powerful second-rankers and the commander herself had gone for battle, it meant another attack from Ashenvale on one or more of the Waygates. But seeing their condition, it had not been an easy victory—if it was a victory at all.
The second-rankers and the commander might survive each battle of this scale, but hundreds of soldiers, mundanes, and first-rankers likely died each time they were hit at one of these checkpoints. The lords were indeed right to be afraid and look for another strategy. Lady Vidalia, however, seemed content to defend while waiting for backup, which was another third-ranker, Bonecrusher.
He was surprised that even with two third rankers as their enemy they had not received a big enough loss in their elite second ranker line up.
This looked hopeless from the point of mundane and first ranker soldiers, in a war like this they were just expendable ground troops barely worth anything. And yet people volunteered for the army, some had no other choice being unemployed and hungry, some were really innocent fools thinking they were doing a great honor and sacrifice for their country and homeland.
Damian had heard that backup or Bonecrusher would be arriving in at least a month. The question was, with Ashenvale’s greater numbers, better advantage, and strange new methods of travel, would they last even a month?
