The Choices of Prince Khorandis

The mid-morning sun cast brilliant rays across the barren wasteland that lay stretched out infront of Prince Khorandis. He watched it with one foot upon a bloodstained boulder, noticing a small, half-starved bird fluttering down and pecking at the ground. At first it seemed about to give up but then, finding its quarry, it flew back to its nest with a leafed twig clasped in its mouth.
"Report," he said without turning to see the elf who had quietly come to stand a few paces behind him.
"No enemy activity has been spotted for many miles around," the sergeant stated matter-of-factly. "Commander Fenorr reports his regiment is as good as ready for your orders."
Khorandis' ears twitched. "Fenorr has sent word?"
"He's here m'lord. Rode through the night with his bodyguard as I understand it."
"Then I suppose we'd better grant him an audience."

***

Khorandis marched through the camp, responding when his men saluted him, slapping his soldiers on the back as if they were old comrades. Every action he made and the expression fixed to his face was designed to project utter confidence but it only served to highlight to himself how far from reality that really was. His armies had been crushed on every front since enterring this accursed land and if his men did not have a victory soon then the despair growing in their hearts would defeat them faster than any flesh and blood enemy.

As he approached an ornately embroidered tent, the halberd wielding guards posted at its entrance swept away the curtained porthole. He stepped through and when his eyes had adjusted to the dimmer lighting he saw Calistari sat next to a prone figure. As green-tinted magic drifted from her fingertips to the figure's chest and forehead, the elf's breathing seemed to grow stronger, though he did not open his eyes.
"Will he live?" he asked, not bothering to mask the concern in his voice.
She finished mouthing a few words of an incantation before standing up and answering him, her eyes still fixed on her patient.
"Maybe if we were in Ulthuan, but there is little I can do for him here besides ease his suffering. Isha herself would find it hard to make anything grow or heal here."
Khorandis took a few steps closer and realised that the wounded elf was Ilthirion, a footsoldier in the spear regiments who had gained minor fame in Saphery for his epic poems.
"We march in a few hours. If you wish you may remain here and tend to the wounded. We go to secure more defensible positions, not to engage."
"How very thoughtful of you," she snapped, turning an angry glare on him. "If I'm not mistaken, retreat is also a valid strategy."
"Not for me," he said coldly.
"How many of our kinsmen must die for your revenge?" She demanded.
He stooped down and picked up one of Ilthirion's gauntlets that lay beside him. He turned it over in his hands like a master craftsmen evaluating the work of an apprentice.
"I know you spoke out against the latest raids on Naggeroth and advised the Phoenix King against the latest expeditions to Lustria."
"I did," she said without hesitation. "They were unnecessary and every elf life lost is a blow to our race."
"Then you would have us cloistered on Ulthuan."
"There are worse places to retreat to."
"True, but the fact of the matter is that we as a race will never regain our former greatness if we do not venture out. Risk is part of greatness."
"You speak like a human," she said, and he shot her an angry look. She almost laughed. "You hate them so much and yet you're more like them than you wish to admit. Why not return to Ulthuan? There is no shame in realising that this fool's venture is not worth the blood of our kin."
Her words cut through him and he found himself disarmed yet again in a way that only his oldest childhood friend could do. He was about to speak when Bel Fenorr swept the curtain aside and enterred the tent.
"Sire, I've come to report and discuss our strategy if you will it."
Khorandis took a deep breath and recomposed himself.
"We are continuing the campaign, are we not?" Fenorr asked.
"Yes..." he said as much to himself as to his lieutenant. "We are continuing. And what's more is we'll win. Call the other commanders. Tell them to be ready to say farewell to the taste of defeat and be ready at the war council with any and all suggestions."
The tall elf nodded and left the tent, letting the flap close behind him. Khorandis himself got up to leave and then Calistari called his name.
"Khorandis, you know I'll stand beside you whichever road you choose."
He gave a sad smile and nodded.
"I just don't want to see your hatred destroy you. You won't let that happen, will you?"
"I hope not," he said with a weak smile before walking out.