Rook knelt over Tucker's body as unfastened his badge. He rolled it around in his hand. He ran his finger along the engraving in the back. James Tucker, it read. A single tear escaped his eyes as he grieved for his fallen friend.
"Hail the victorious dead," He heard Flint say from behind him.
"Hail," Rook muttered, his throat choked up. He felt Flint's hand grip his shoulder.
"He was a brave young man. And a damn good soldier," Flint said, gazing at the piles of corpses surrounding Tucker's body.
"He was more of a brother to me then my real ones," Rook said.
"Then that is how he will be remembered," Elle said as she joined them. When she saw his body her eyes welled up with tears. She embraced Rook and held him tightly. He hugged her back, squeezing her tightly as well.
Rook stood, examining the battlefield. Bodies littered the ground everywhere and smoke still flowed from the broken cannons. Standards lay strewn about the field, still gripped in the bearer's hands. He let out a sigh.
"It's finished," He said.
"I hope so my friend, I hope so," Flint replied.
YOU ARE READING
The Hand
Fantasy"It has a firm grip and is attached to a very long arm," - An old saying of soldiers from The Hand. Rook only ever wanted to be a Lawkeeper, but when the rebellion started he quickly became a soldier. Follow him and his men on their adventure to end...
