After their decisive victory over Orinovo, Lys-Akkaria's army crosses the border to take back territory that used to be theirs. With the combined forces of a lightweaver and shadowforger, Orinovo doesn't stand a chance.
In spite of their newfound a...
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Nothing about anything felt right, especially the world. Ainreth couldn't believe he'd essentially broken up with Fenn, lost his position and was going home in one fell swoop.
He'd not wanted any of this. He didn't truly care about losing his position in the army, but the rest of it....
Ainreth had had to hold back tears many times on the way over, and even though Petre had straight up told him it was okay if he wanted to cry, he refused. Not in front of them. He couldn't just fall apart on the road. He'd leave that for when he was at home. Without Fenn there.
Ainreth took in a shuddering breath. He knew he could appeal to the Arbiter, that he'd most likely be let return to his position since Lys-Akkaria needs the Daybreaker, that he would get back to Fennrin relatively quickly so he could talk to him, apologize, even if he knew it was possible Fenn might not take him back. He just had to apologize because he couldn't go on having Fennrin think that he'd meant those words.
And yet the days ahead seemed like they would last an eternity.
Even when they finally reached Kyr-Toryl, the time of his return to the battlefield seemed so far away. But as he and Petre trotted along listlessly up toward the palace and to Ainreth's house, Ain noticed that something was off.
The atmosphere in the city seemed stifling, and tense. And sure, there had been tension before due to Orinovo threatening to attack. But that had been months ago. Ainreth would have thought that the people here would be in high spirits after their continuous victories.
They continued on, Ain making Sunray nearly gallop through the streets, wanting to report to the Arbiter and get this over with as soon as possible so he could go cry in his pillow. But unfortunately, right before reaching the palace, they had to stop, the streets full of people protesting something.
Ainreth frowned, nudging Sunray to take a turn through a dark alley, Petre right behind him as they try to get around the crowd.
"What do you think is going on?" Petre questions as they once again come across the crowd, going around it. Before Ain could even come up with some kind of theory, they were noticed, however.
"Daybreaker!" someone exclaimed, making Ainreth sigh and get off his horse, leading her to the people who were now inching toward him, making a crescent around him and Sunray.
Standing on his own two feet, the crowd looked even more impressive, everyone packed so tightly in the streets leading up to the palace that the place was nigh impossible to traverse. It made Ainreth almost uncomfortable, but his insides twisted at this for a different reason—dread.
"What's going on here?" Ain asked, giving up on not getting involved in this. It had been a foolish struggle to begin with. The moment he'd get some energy back he would ask around what the problem was.
"We are protesting the war you are leading," a man from the back yells, a few cries of agreement following.
Ainreth glared at him. "Why do you think I am here, you misborns? I was stripped of my rank. For refusing to fight anymore!"
