'Who are we really but mere fragments forged in the shade? The people now hail us as Gods. Because we are unique, they say. Because we are special. Today I pricked my finger. It bled the same red thick liquid as everyone else's. I say I am no God. I am a fragment. A lie.'

The day was gloomy as was his fate.

The clouds above were fleeting as if the things cannot make up their minds. Sunshine peeped where they could peep and the cold winter wind was biting to the skin.

Fredrich slugged. His thinned boots scraped against the cobbled road. His rucksack burdened behind. His shield lugged him to the side. He would have been sweating if not for the sudden gusts of coldness. And even those were uncomfortable.

He walked anyway. All of them did. Ten columns and only the Omniscient knows how many ranks. They were marching if this could be called a march. To Fredrich it was a procession of languid men, him included.

Another gust blew. It bit. The line swayed like a long stick bent. The officers on horseback pulled reins to brace. It was over not long after but Fredrich was already shivering under his armor.

It could be worse, he took refuge in that thought. Old men told of stories of how solid water would fall from the sky in the past during winter and wouldn't abate until spring.

"It is true child." That skinny drunken merchant told him then. He was seven that time and a face full of curiosity. "We call it snow. But the winter of Eighty started it all. It didn't snow that year and still hasn't until now. Oh how I wish to see it again."

Snow. As if the world needs more gloom. As if cold water is a welcomed gift. That merchant was a fool for wishing snow. Cold gusts of wind was uncomfortable enough.

The march came to a sudden halt when the quartermaster ordered a rest. The recruits dropped their rucksacks and shields as if one more breath holding the things would kill.

Fredrich knew better than to add to the wear of his belongings. He knelt, one knee on the cobbles and gently laid his shield to the side. He also did the same to his rucksack but with more care.

He sat cross-legged, head bent and hands clasped together. As always nobody talked to him as if he was a disease. And in a way he probably was. His gloom was contagious, they all say. He didn't care. They were all having idle talks anyway. Gossips bore him. Small talks even more so. A man, especially one heading into danger such as them, should spend time only to better himself.

Fredrich reached into his rucksack and took a book. The leather cover had creases now as opposed to its splendid appearance when he first bought it.

He flipped, balmy smell wafting on his nose. The pages were still new- clean even- despite the cheap price. It was the book written by King Timothy himself about the wars of the Union. It was history though Fredrich suspected that the accounts were adjusted to make the actions of the Union more heroic.

Of course it is. A man takes what he could. Even history itself.

He flipped until he found a leaf, the bookmark he left yesterday. The page detailed how King Timothy defeated a combined force of Inkish and Hadeans in the Battle of Velin Plains.

They hit our center without mercy, without cease. They rushed like madmen bearing swords, axes and spears. Third Century of the Rooster Legion was pinned. Fourth Century had lost its Centurion. Several more were trapped, pinned and attacked on all sides but even then the Rooster fought on. I was betting on that. The Rooster held the enemies at bay like an unbreakable galley amidst a storm. Fifteen thousand men attacked and fifteen thousand men were repelled. Steelsword and Dawn Legions flanked the enemies and that began a rout. And yet the Rooster didn't give chase. They remained, awaiting my next order Seeing them with such a discipline mien, my heart brimmed with pride. The Rooster is my personal legion.

The Rooster again. Fredrich's youth was filled with stories and songs and plays about the Rooster Legion. People say that the Rooster only crows loyalty for the King. And that thinking bugged him.

Because loyalty is a lie.

Loyalty was a rainbow- pretty and nice but doesn't exist. The stories and poems and songs talk about it but the truth was that every person only cares about his own self. That was the way things are.

Fredrich shut the book when the call to resume was blare through a shrill horn. He returned to his line and the sluggish march winded through the road.

The sky was darker now and Fredrich expected a rain. It did not come as if the Omniscient was mocking them.

Several thousand steps into the march and they passed the city of Corknip. Once nearly a hundred thousand people dwelled in the city. Now only silence lived in the City of Golden Wine. Corknip was crumbling. Cracks as large as man's arm lined the lofty walls. Vegetation had eaten the dried moat. The towers had holes in their roofs and the iron gate was rusty.

"Such a waste right?" He heard someone say.

"Aye. My mum was from a village not far from here. She was there when the beasts and those damn Ninevans invaded Hadea. The shadow beasts were already prowling and killing people by the thousands. They were headed to Corknip when the forces led by King Timothy and Queen Lucia arrived and pushed them back." said a fat recruit with the features of a Hadean.

"But at a great cost." The other recruit said. This one was a Vanadian.

"Great cost indeed but they say it was glorious. Castonia, Vanadis, Tulosa, Wismar, Canton, Inkit, Hadea and Borondi stood together in a mass charge against the beasts. My mum witnessed it. She said it was the greatest thing she saw. King Timothy led the front and turned into a giant lion."

"Ain't that a tale? But I doubt it. Why would he lead at the front?"

"But it's true. Bah, doubt my tale if you want. My mum saw what she saw." The Hadean made the annoying mistake of looking at Fredrich. "What about you mate? Any stories you've heard you willing to share?"

"Ah don't bother. He ain't talking. Some say he's mute." said the Vanadian.

"Mute? Is that true mate? Must be a burden then."

"A burden indeed. Poor lad. And he has the gloom too."

Fredrich was at the edge of his temper. He was fuming. Why? Why include me in your stupid talks?

"Listen here you tattlers." Fredrich's stare could burn. "First of all, that battle had a name. Battle of Corknip. And yes it happened in this very land we are stepping on. And you're wrong. It's only Castonia, Vanadis, Wismar, Inkit and Canton who were there. Tulosa and Borondi were too far away. It also wasn't a single charge but a series of complex maneuvers. A battle there. A battle here. And King Timothy never led a charge. It would be stupid. He is a King. A King. Why in the Omniscient would he put himself in the front lines against an enemy they know little about? Huh? One more thing. I think you already know by now but I am not a mute."

The silence extended wide. Everyone within five ranks from him craned their heads.

The Hadean stared at him. Those thick lips spread as he laughed. It was wheezy and annoying and Fredrich wanted to cover his ears. His annoyance again soared when the Hadean and the Vanadian both patted his arm.

"Good lord! I thought you were mute mate. Never once talked since your group joined ours in Heraldshome." The Hadean one was a jolly man. He wore a jolly grin and his continuous pat on Fredrich's shoulder was also jolly.

The others left him alone. But these two were now focused on him.

"Name's Gren" Said the Vanadian. No. No, I don't need to know your name. "And yours?"

And you also don't need to know mine.

"Ah he's a shy one. Don't push him. I am Trest by the way. " The Hadean patted Fredrich's back again. He stabbed his thumb toward the Vanadian. "Don't mind Gren too much. His questions are oppressing sometimes. He's a bit weird."

And you're not?

"Oi! Heard that. I'm not weird. I am just born with a deeper curiosity that most people."

"See? Weird."

It didn't end. Their talks and questions and buggering didn't end for what seemed to be a lifetime. The whole morning they talked and even included him in the despicable tattles and small talks. Never had marching been too taxing for Fredrich.

They only stopped when the Terpet Wall was in sight. Fredrich's burnt temper, his annoyance, was lost upon seeing such a sight. The wall extended from one horizon to another, probably seven persons high and made of stone. Forts lined every league, towers every thousand paces.

"Marvelous" Trest again patted his back, eyes staring at the wall.

"How many stones do you think they've used for this?" Gren asked.

"Shut it. Omniscient. Stop asking for once." Trest eyed him. "You are Fredrich right? We already know your name Fred. We apologize for the crude introduction earlier. Gren and I have actually been planning in conversing with you. You just looked too gloomy and lonely and hostile. We also apologize if our way of squishing talks from you seemed too forceful. But you better associate with others Fred. A human isn't made to be alone."

"I am fine with being alone. And now that we are here, it is time to part. You two shouldn't bother me again."

They were sorted before given entry to the forts. To Fredrich's surprise, he was assigned to the Rooster legion. Third cohort, according to his letter of recommendation. Truth be told he didn't care as to where he would be assigned. But the thought of belonging to the King's Legion was too gleeful to ignore. Perhaps if he could make a name for himself here, in the most prestigious legion, he could go home one day and finally face that man.

Surprisingly, or rather unsurprisingly, Gren and Trest were also in the Rooster. An officer led them and about a few dozen others to another march heading east. He tried to ignore the two buggering creatures and just swayed his focus elsewhere.

"Forty-six forts are sprawled along the Terpet Line." The Officer said, not turning a head though his voice was loud enough. "You are lucky ones. Rooster eh? King's Legion. Good for you. Just live through the remaining of your service years and you'll be rewarded with fame."

"Yes" Without turning he knew that growly voice was Trest's. "If we live."

"Forgive his pessimist talk sir" That was Gren. "But we are curious here what really happens around here. Rumors are concerning sometimes. Enlightenment would be a gift."

"They are asking if it's true that shadow beasts are attacking everyday and the struggle has been getting bloodier lately." Fredrich said, though he was surprise himself by the loosened tongue. Perhaps it was a petty retaliation for the Trest and Gren's transgressions earlier.

"No" Was the officer's immediate response. "As a matter of fact the last assault was months ago. We don't know what's happening in the enemy's side. Only the Eternal Pair knows. So breathe lightly lads. And you'll be with the Rooster anyway."

The march halted after reaching a certain fort. The sky was still shrouded in thick clouds though the orange streaks indicated afternoon.

The fort itself was as impressive as the others. It protruded as if part of the wall. The only entrance was through a drawbridge which spanned a moat. Two towers stood beside the gate with loaded catapults looking down. Considering this was the side facing the human kingdoms, the security was already too tight. Fredrich wondered what it looked like on the other side, from the perspective of the enemies. Perhaps that was why they halted their assaults.

The drawbridge was dropped through a pair of creaked chains. Next was the iron gate. It rose like a curtain from a play. The officer led them inside with tight searches from the guards. Every single article of clothing was removed. Some private areas were inspected thoroughly. Fredrich had never felt so violated before. The worst thing was the smirks on Trest and Gren's faces.

Trest patted his back despite his fiery glare. "It's for the best. People are getting creative in hiding basilisk root nowadays."

"I didn't ask." He said.

"But I did." said Gren.

Fredrich scowled. He intended to add some harsh words but the line had begun trailing.

Small brick buildings served as quarters for the cohort. They lined in neat rows and columns pleasing to the eyes. The men of the Rooster legion were either cooking supper or engaging in idle chat. Though he stifled admission, he did feel awe watching these veterans.

But as they neared, his awe staled into confusion and even that turned to shock. He stopped.

These people... he thought, eyes wide and so was his mouth. Most of the supposed veterans were younger than him, some not even twenty.

They are not the original Rooster, are they?