TEXT: Ron Owen (order #9400483)
  
  Duty—Part I
  by Marie Mönkemeyer
  ENGLISH VERSION
  Translator: Steven M. Fowler, BA, MH, DPhil
  Editor: Kevin MacGregor
  Layout: Ben Acevedo
  Copyright © 2015 by Ulisses Spiele GmbH, Waldems. 
  THE DARK EYE, AVENTURIA, DERE, MYRANOR, RIESLAND, 
  THARUN, and UTHURIA are trademarks of Ulisses Spiele. All 
  rights reserved.
  This publication is protected under the copyright laws of the 
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  reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in 
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  consent by Ulisses Spiele GmbH, Waldems.
  Ron Owen (order #9400483)
  
  1
  Porta Yaquiris, 290 before the Fall of Bosparan
  “We should have been there, at their side. They were our 
  comrades. We let them down and now they are dead!” 
  Cavalry Prefect Aradnus’ voice was a deep rumble, full of 
  anger and desperation.
  “And still the Lion Worshipers have not tired of spilling 
  our blood. It is only a matter of time before they come at 
  us again. We need a tactic that will work against them.” 
  Centurion Maga Cirania was practical to her core and 
  always looked to the future. Only her unyielding grip on 
  her walking staff gave any hint to the emotions that burned 
  within her. I remained silent, even though I knew they were 
  waiting for me to respond.
  Two months ago, I was still assigned to the Divine Field 
  Commander. For 36 years, my role as a priest was to serve 
  on the battlefield with the legions. I had been deep in 
  meditation over the nature of our god when my brothers 
  and sisters mustered and marched off to the Battle of 
  Bloodhills. What happened next is well known. It didn’t 
  Duty—Part I
  by Marie Mönkemeyer
  Ron Owen (order #9400483)
  
  2
  settle the question of which deity—Rahandra or Shinxir—
  deserved to be worshiped as the god of war, but given the 
  results, it might as well have. The servants of the Lion 
  Goddess had betrayed us, their comrades, and won. Of the 
  many champions of Shinxir who fought that day, none 
  survived.
  I could not accept that these men and women had gone to 
  their doom without me, but no matter how long I meditated 
  or how many hours I devoted to practice with my weapons, 
  I could not compensate for my injured left leg. The answer 
  was plain for all to see—Shinxir called me to serve, but he 
  did not call me to battle. Even so, he was still my god, my 
  supreme commander. Whatever he asked of me, I would do 
  gladly. And so I stayed with the legion.
  Rahandra has reigned as the true goddess of war ever 
  since. After the Battle of Bloodhills, fear began to spread 
  through the tents. It was only a matter of time before belief 
  in Shinxir would be proscribed, his priests executed, and 
  his believers cast from society. Officers and soldiers alike 
  learned quickly to keep their heads down. They adapted to 
  the new order and swore allegiance to Rahandra (or at least 
  to the belief that this really was the will of the gods).
  And so it came to pass that the three of us were sitting in 
  my tent instead of in the officers’ mess, questions hanging 
  unspoken in the air between us.
  Aradnus and Cirania were more than good officers. They 
  were my friends, and both would have given their lives 
  for me without hesitation. They showed me consideration 
  with their silence. Instead, they focused their anger on the 
  servants of Rahandra and the officers, who were suddenly 
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  3
  avoiding them. Yet they longed for answers. Should they 
  have found a way to carry me into battle? Should they 
  gather those who were still loyal to Shinxir and attack the 
  servants of the Lioness, and by so doing, seek their own 
  deaths as well? Was that Shinxir’s will?
  For most of my life, and especially these past few months, I 
  had asked these questions of myself and my god. I meditated 
  for hours, until the black and golden squares of the board 
  filled my mind, pushing everything else aside. Twelve times 
  twelve squares, black and gold like a hornet, orderly like a 
  legion’s camp. The game requires tactics, planned moves, 
  and quick countermoves against the unexpected strikes 
  of the opponent. System and tactics, discipline and order, 
  camaraderie and companionship.
  Even now my gaze remained fixed on the board that sat on 
  the table, flanked by Aradnus’ and Ciranias’ goblets. I had 
  not put it aside for more than a year.
  Twelve times twelve squares, twelve pieces for each player. 
  Alone, a single piece is of little importance. Only together 
  do they have meaning—just like a legion. To win, one need 
  only employ them in the right way, systematically and 
  prudently. When strengthened by its companions at just 
  the right moment, an otherwise worthless piece can win the 
  battle.
  Shinxir is no hot-headed warrior who throws himself 
  heedlessly into battle. He is a field commander who plans 
  well in advance and does not send his reserves to the 
  slaughter. And he is my god.
  Ron Owen (order #9400483)
  
  4
  “By the way, I am keeping my fastest horse ready for you, 
  in case they try to arrest you.” Aradnus’ words derailed my 
  thoughts. He clapped my shoulder encouragingly, forcing 
  my gaze from the black and golden squares. It would have 
  to be a very good horse, I thought. As Prefect of the Cavalry 
  he was very demanding, so of course it would be a strong 
  animal. However, I did not need it.
  “Thank you,” I said, “but that is not necessary.”
  “If you say so.” Aradnus shrugged skeptically and reached 
  for the wine. Then he seemed to come to a decision. “Yes. 
  I am not going to flee, either,” he said. “This is the time for 
  action.”
  Aradnus and Cirania exchanged glances, and I could tell 
  by their body language that they had been waiting for a 
  moment like this. Officers never liked to sit around not 
  knowing when or if new orders would arrive.
  “If we die as martyrs,” I began, “who then shall serve 
  Shinxir? Who will guard his sanctuaries? Who will honor 
  the Champion? When you lose a battle, do you sit in the 
  corner and cry? No! You retreat, you gather your forces, and 
  you regroup. And that is exactly what we are going to do. 
  The thundering Lioness might have beaten us this time, but 
  that does not mean she will always win, or even that this 
  war is over. The next battle will come, and people will sing 
  Shinxir’s praises again.”
  They found comfort and, I think, cautious, hesitating hope 
  in my words.
  Ron Owen (order #9400483)
  
  5
  “If the war is not over, should we not raise an army and lead 
  it against Rahandra’s servants?” Cirania asked, ever eager 
  for battle.
  “No. We retreat. You two can remain in the legion, if you 
  wish. I shall become a private citizen and settle down on my 
  family’s land.”
  “So, we’re to run away, after all,” Aradnus grumbled into 
  his goblet. I gave him a chiding stare, and he snapped to 
  attention, red-faced, like a scolded recruit. “Please forgive 
  me!” he exclaimed.
  I waved him aside before he could continue. Aradnus 
  had served on the border, in Corania, and everywhere in 
  between. His manners, even after all the drilling, were 
  still as rugged and wild as his homeland. This would never 
  change.
  “Do you think you will be safe there?” Cirania asked.
  “I think so. I am getting old and I am a cripple. How 
  dangerous could I be?” I tapped my left leg, smiling.
  “You are not a cripple!” Cirania yelled. She always objected 
  strongly whenever I started talking like this. Another thing 
  that would not change. She was tough on herself, and she 
  would never give up on me.
  I had been a young man, and she was still in training, when 
  an enemy’s arrow struck my horse. It plunged and rolled, 
  trapping me beneath its body. If not for Cirania, I would 
  certainly have gone on to join Shinxir’s otherworldly 
  legions. She pulled me from beneath my dying horse and 
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  6
  treated the worst of my injuries at great risk to her own life. 
  I was eventually able to walk again, slowly and with a limp, 
  but I survived only because of her.
  “Some may see me as one, if they like. You know that the 
  most dangerous enemy is the one you underestimate.” How 
  often had I uttered that ancient bit of wisdom?
  “Yes,” she said, nodding to herself. After a few moments, 
  she asked, “You said ‘retreat and wait.’ Until when?”
  “Until Shinxir’s next battle.”
  Aradnus frowned, his brows furrowing. Cirania rolled her 
  eyes in mock exasperation at the obvious nature of my 
  answer, and she remained confident that things would work 
  out for the best.
  The truth is not easily grasped by mortal minds, and my 
  mind is no exception. Eventually I came to understand that 
  alone I was doomed to fail. I could make use of my authority 
  as a priest for a time, but that authority would not survive 
  beyond my death. I needed Aradnus and Cirania to join 
  me in an important task. Therefore, I needed to explain 
  something to them which even I could barely put into 
  words.
  “It might not happen for a very long time,” I began. “The 
  Champion is a god, and gods... They... They think in different 
  dimensions. To them, we are so small, like a game piece on 
  the board. Time works differently for gods. Hundred of years 
  seem like forever to us mortals, but to the gods, centuries 
  rush past in the blink of an eye. There will come a day when 
  Rahandra’s sword grows rusty, and Shinxir will be there to 
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  7
  fight her once again. I know it. I have seen it! Yet I do not 
  know when it will happen. We must not lose heart. We must 
  do our part as loyal soldiers. The Champion will return, 
  and it is our task to ensure that somebody still supports 
  Shinxir’s fight here in the mortal world, on Dere, when 
  that day arrives. Thus will the Divine Field Commander be 
  victorious!”
  …to be continued in Duty—Part II.
  Ron Owen (order #9400483)
  
SOURCE: textdata/thevault/Dark Eye, The [multi]/Misc/The Dark Eye - Short Story Pack - Duty, Part 1.pdf