Chapter Text
Azel's hand froze, the sharp side of his knife pressed firmly against the pale neck of a soldier gasping for breath on the ground, stained in a pool of their own blood. They looked up through the eye slit in their helmet at him, meeting Azel's soft golden eyes through the eyes of his pale white mask now stained in dirt and grime. It was as if time didn't move between them as war waged on around them, as other white masks turned mercy killers and war surgeons, darted between bodies hitting the ground with dull thuds.
Their frozen silence ended when an older white mask shoved Azel roughly aside and yanked the knife from him. Azel cried out, stumbling to one knee, but the soldier fell back to the ground as his mentor made one precise slice across their throat. Azel wanted to cover his ears from the garbled sound that came from them and then the resulting silence.
He stammered, one arm trembling, unable to find the words he wanted to say. He stared at his hands where his mentor now placed the handle of the knife back in his palm and then looked up at him, his dark leather gloves stained in fresh glistening blood. His mentor could not see the furrowed brow beneath his mask nor the silent tears that fell down his cheeks.
"Why can't we save them?" Azel asked finally, gripping his knife. He wasn't supposed to be here. He's just barely graduated shortly after Prince Godwyn's death. It wasn't his fault Lord Morgott demanded all medical personnel to the field. Azel stepped closer to his mentor, arms out to gesture at the whole field. "If they'd gotten treatment back at Leyndell-"
"This is a damn war, Azel!" his mentor snapped back. "There is no getting treatment!" An arrow whizzed past them. They made a move for cover behind a tree, Azel settling beside him.
"Sir," Azel said after a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as another volley of arrows cascaded around them. "I made a pledge to save people. I swore on the Erd Tree that nobody would suffer by my hands."
The elder white mask only made a disgusted noise. Azel opened his mouth to protest, but more and more of Leyndell's soldiers were getting pushed back by Mount Gelmir's army, huddled behind the thin line of trees on the Altus Plateau. They quietly decided to retreat further with others of their team, ducking behind a thicket of bushes and young trees that barely counted as shelter.
Rumbles erupted from Leyndell's side as the back up Night's Calvary finally burst over the hills into battle.
Better late than never at least.
Azel exhaled with relief and kept his eyes open for one specifically, unable to pinpoint him among the sea of spectral steeds and dark, jagged armor. They were gone to the front as fast as they had arrived.
When they had a moment, Azel's mentor yanked him by his scarf, pulling him close until the tips of their noses nearly touched. Azel's breath caught in his throat.
"You can't save everyone," his mentor snapped. His voice unexpectedly softened. "They aren't suffering by your hand if you're the one ending their suffering. Don't. Hesitate."
Those words echoed in Azel's memory day after day regardless of if he was called to the field. His muscle memory strengthened; one quick slash and their suffering was over for the ones he'd knew would die in their own blood when the best care in the world couldn't help.
His stomach turned with every kill, yet he never once complained, working only as fast and efficiently as he could. Azel would be there until the very end, until the grace left their eyes, uttering prayers of the Golden Order to them despite never praying to any god himself.
Destined death had long been purged from the world. But they could still die by other means, their souls called back by the grace of the Erd Tree. Azel had never found out what happens after as it was a closely guarded secret of the Golden Order; he just hoped that they went peacefully.