“What?” Tucker remained frozen in place and tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean they don’t know?”

  “They’re already terrified of the golems. You think they can handle knowing there’s a force out there that can kill watchmen?” Carl asked with the moonlight illuminating his figure. “I have spent countless nights thinking about how to tackle this issue and how to deal with the golems, but I realized. That men who are not capable will only be burdened with this knowledge.”

  The sound of the clock ticking away took over Tucker’s mind as he tried to piece together what Carl had said. What point was there in hiding the existence of the Empire’s covert forces when they posed a threat to their nation? It didn’t make sense to him one bit. Was it fear or some sort of obligation as a leader? Either way, Tucker didn’t agree with Carl’s methods.

  “Leaving them in the dark isn’t the right way to handle it. They need to know so they can prepare,” said Tucker.

  “Prepare what? Even if they prepared, what could they do?” Carl asked. “They’re militiamen, common folk that failed to enter the knight academy. How could they possibly survive against a force that’s on average better than them in all aspects?”

  “With tactics and whatever method they can scrounge up!” Tucker raised his hand and pointed out the window. “At least if they knew they could prepare themselves better and have a fighting chance!”

  “A fighting chance? What you’re saying is nothing more than suicide!” Carl raised his voice and gritted his teeth. “Fully armed knight battalions that have tried and died trying to stop it. What would a group of militia be capable of?

  Tucker slammed his hand on the table before him, causing a loud bang to erupt throughout the room. “They’re my men and I sure as hell know what they’re capable of!”

  Carl scoffed with disbelief and stared at Tucker. “Your men? Did you forget that our deal was that you would only train them? Not lead? I don’t want to hear you say they’re your men when you don’t even have the courage to take responsibility for them till the end. You’re nothing more than a coward at your core.”

  The words cut deep into Tucker’s consciousness. Carl was right. He was afraid of taking responsibility for the militiamen. The choices he made in the past caused more harm than good, and when he thought back to how he nearly killed Alex during their first mission, a sharp pain struck his heart. It was his fault that they scaled the mountains and didn’t return to the Order. His fault that Alex had to stay by his side when the wyvern rider killed his mount and broke his legs. He knew he didn’t have what it takes to lead. His decisions had only hurt those around him. No matter how much he wanted to take it back — he couldn’t. It had already happened. It was a stroke of luck they made it through each predicament, but that didn’t mean he could keep counting on such miracles.

  Tucker curled his fingers into a tight fist and held them on his lap. “You’re right. I am a coward and you can attack my character all you want Commander, but don’t you dare attack theirs because those men are far more capable than you think.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “You’ve only been with them for a few days at most and you think that you’ve grasped their character?”

  “You see a lot out of people when they’re pushed to their limits.”

  Carl clenched his jaw and tightly closed his eyes for a moment. His patience was running thin, and even with Salamander’s strong recommendation, he couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with what the watchman had said. If he yielded a single inch of ground here, then all the militia units would know of another disaster, and there was no telling how much damage it would cause.

  “This is an order. You are to train them so that they are more disciplined. There will be no more stunts like the one you pulled tonight, and if there are. I will submit a formal complaint to the Order of Watchmen and remove you from your position.”

  The commander’s words etched themselves into Tucker’s head, but he didn’t care. “Very well, I understand.”

  “You’re dismissed.”

  Tucker saluted Carl and soon made way to the exit. He pulled on the metal doorknob, allowing the creaking sound of the door to take hold of the room as he shut it behind him. The quiet and subtle click caused his heart to sink, and Tucker finally let out a deep sigh. He didn’t care that Carl would file a complaint to the Order. There was already a scarlet seal on his records and no matter what happens, he would be erased from their archives upon death. Nothing could be done about that, and maybe the reason the Order sent him here to the fortress city was to dispose of him.

  Why else would they station him here when the Empire’s war machines were on their doorstep?

  The Order had abandoned him and his comrades.

  And thinking about it, he deserved it, but that wasn’t the same for the others. They didn’t deserve such treatment, and while everyone turned their backs on them, he wouldn’t. Whether it was the watchmen or the militia, Tucker would support them to the best of his capabilities.

  The hollow sound of his boots hitting the stone floors caused him to wonder. That if he had followed his orders, would everything be different? Would it change the outcome of his choices? The joy that came into his life when he saved Adira was something he didn’t expect, but if he had…

  Tucker felt the surrounding breeze grow stronger. His spirit essence was fluctuating, and soon, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed a verdant hawk soaring through the sky. Flying freely without a care in the world. It was Gale, and seeing his companion was a reminder that there wasn’t a point in regretting his choices. All he could do now was move forward and reduce the amount of regrets he carried, and the first step of that was to understand the men he was training. To know what they know and fill in the gaps.

  He stood there, shoulders heavy from the long night. The sky was still filled with the last hints of darkness, a deep blue softening at the edges. Tucker stared at the horizon, his eyes clear and filled with conviction as the first seam of light broke through. It wasn’t sudden—just a slow golden creep like the world itself was reminding him that everything would work out with time. Just like how the sun rose and fell, everyone had their periods of hardships and victories.

  The wind tugged at the seams of his clothes and the iron plates that protected him. His sword rested in its scabbard, hanging from the belt around his waist. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched and took in the sight. Throughout his life, he was desperate to make a name for himself. To build a legacy and leave something behind so that he would be remembered. Not because of his family but for himself, and even though that was no longer possible. He knew that others would have the chance to do it in his stead.

  From afar, it looked like Tucker had survived something. Not just a harsh night but everything that came with it and as the sun rose, so did he. Just the slightest bit not in movement but in presence. A quiet, stubborn hope that was beginning to flicker behind his tired gaze.

  Alas, what would you guys do in this situation?

  Would you go with Carl's route of damage control and keeping the militia in the dark or would you go with Tucker's route and empower your men even with the risks?

  As always, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and let me know if there are any mistakes!

  See ya in the next one~

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