"What is his name again?"

"Solon something or other, Mister Alen."

"Eh? Oh that's right. Do we have any idea what his company's numbers amount to?"

"Roughly, one hundred and fifty soldiers, backed by several mages."

Alen's eyes narrowed. That's too many, I wouldn't give myself two bits for our chances... "All right, you can forget the rest of the briefing. The Highland army should be here soon, and I want you rested."

"Oh, I'm sorry... Alen. I'll do that."

Alen waved his hand dismissively, then lifted himself off a small wooden stool, wooden planks creaking beneath. He walked over to a closed window. The rain was lightly pelting the ground, and the mercenary soldiers were on the fort ground desperatly training for the inevitable attack.

He began to question his decision to join Flik and Viktor on this fool's mission. Some of these mercs didn't even have weapons at all. I wonder what they hope to accomplish with their fists... Highland on the other hand, each soldier with at -least- two years training, full armour and battle hardened comrades. Perhaps his original thoughts were correct - this was a suicide mission.

Startled, Alen shot forward in his chair at the sound of three consecutive knocks. "Who is it?"

The door slowly opened to reveal the fort's kitchen maiden, a young girl and Alen couldn't remember her name. She really was too young really to be in such a dangerous place, especially at this time, no older then seventeen. The girl curtsied. "Sorry, did I startle you?"

"No, I was just concentrating," Alen replied. "This battle is weighing heavily on me."

"Ah, I see. You're not the only one though; I've seen it in everyone's eyes. I've known them for almost a year now, and I've never seen them so serious looking."

Alen nodded and helped her with her small wood tray. "Yeah, I've seen it before. And that's from trained soldiers, I guess everyone goes through this before battle. Especially ones so young."

"How many times have you been in battle like this, Alen?"

Alen sighed and placed the wooden tray on a nearby coffee table. "Like this?" He asked. "Never, I'm used to controlled combat... If there is such a thing." He rested his cheek against his gloved hand, "But..."

"But...?"

Alen silently sighed. Why am I telling her this? I guess even a man like me needs -someone- to talk to. "This is much different, I've always been a soldier. Fighting on behalf of what I believed in. I enjoyed war, the cause, the glory... everything about it. Now I'm just a common swordsman - a dirty merc, trying desperatly to involve myself in something bigger than me." He stopped, taking a sip of the nasty, room temperature water she had brought him. He placed the wooden mug back down and looked back at her. "Why do you ask?"

"Eh?" She shot up, blushing a shade of red and a startled look sweeping over her face. "I don't know really, it just looked like you had something to get off your chest. I'm sorry," she finished, and tilted her head down in shame, and then looked up as she felt his hand touch her chin.

He gazed at her for a moment, and her innocent blue eyes looked back, almost in tears. Alen instantly saw her spirit, respected it. It was indeed rare to see eyes like these. It had been awhile, and for a brief instant, her young, peaceful eyes reminded him of McDohl. In that same instant, he knew that he wanted to let no harm come to her. "Don't be sorry. You're right, y'know? I did need to talk, thank you."

She looked up, smiled and began to speak. "Thank you too, but, I have some things to do before Highland comes. I'll see you later."

"General Alen! The Highland army-"

The dark haired general waved out his hand, "I have eyes. They will be attacking soon, have all the troops take their positions. I expect them to attack with mages first, I want all our troops to take position with their bows and prepare to counter."

"Yes, sir!"

If their mages do attack first, and I have underestimated their power; I'll know soon enough that my battle experience alone will not be sufficient to win.

There is something about battle. Something about the sheer simplicity, yet horrible complexity that drives a man to his most base instincts. Hidden behind the mask of a man fighting for what he believes in, anyone and everyone with a sword can kill, putting the innocent tag of "war" onto the atrocities resulting. The fallen lose their masks of patriotism, only to be replaced with masks that merely show "casualties of war". In essence, war not only strips a man of his reason and control, but his name and soul as well. All in the name of a cause, a bit of dirt, or man's inbred tendency to fight.

In the end, who is the victor? The one with the men still standing, or the one with their soul still intact? Are they not, in truth, both the loser?

Men on the battlefield rarely think such things. It's an oddity to find a soldier pondering the consequences of war and peace. In fact, such men are a dying breed in the face of the appealing and quickly growing fires of war. Still, it's that one man willing to ask "why", that one soldier on the battlefield who, staring into the lifeless face of his opponent, wonders "can't there be a better way"...they keep sanity amongst the insane, peace amongst the warriors. It is they, as well, who invariably end up saying "enough", drop their weapons, and open their arms to embrace their enemies, declaring themselves as one yet again, and praying that the man they face has the same ideals. More often than not, the opponent does not. Every so often, though, the man they face drops his own sword, opens his own arms, and embraces his fellow man.

The noticeable weight of Solon Jhee's own sword seemed to call him to do the same as the brave soldier in his imaginings. Staring out over the open plains at the nestled wooden fortress, he wondered if someone inside felt the same.

Solon Jhee was by no means a traitor. He loved Highland, and believed in his oath to protect her until his dying breath. But, to his recollection, he'd never sworn such an oath to this insane prince, this Ruka Bright. If protecting the good country of Highland meant throwing down his own sword and declaring "enough", then that was what he must do.

The weight tugged at his waist. And he did nothing.

"Lord Jhee, the troops are in position."

Solon looked over at his second and nodded. Something trained into him took over, the man he was was pushed aside to make room for the conquering general. "Send them in."

Sano signaled the advance, and the mages under his command started forward. Across the grassy field, another battalion stood in opposition, defending the fort they called home.

Home...women, children...refugees...of Ryube...

The voice was tamped down in his mind by the general as he took control again. "Fire squad, forward. Rising Fire."

The signal was sent, and the soldiers bearing tiny red flame insignias on their shoulders moved forward in the ranks. Each held their hand over their head, a red glow surrounding them. From nowhere, a rain of burning fire fell from the heavens, accompanied by columns of flame rising from the ground, striking the mercenary army. Their soldiers continued to press forward.

Solon's mind was on automatic, he barely needed to think for the next move. "Fire squad, back. Wind squad, forward. Torrent Wind."

Following the signal, the fire mages fell back, replaced by the wind mages. The same movement as before, and spiraling tornadoes came down from the sky. This time, though, they struck for much less. Someone over there had a keen sense of strategy...the soldiers had dispersed, thus making it harder to target the enemy.

"They've got a strategist, sir!" Sano said frantically.

"I can see that, Sano." Solon's eyes narrowed. I should order a charge...why am I not?

"Is the Fire squad rested?"

Sano sent the signal, and got one in response. "They need a few more minutes, sir."

"They may not have their few minutes..."

Solon squinted at the mercenaries, trying to make out what they were doing. They were regrouping, and gearing up for a charge.

"Quick and bloody, just like Ruka wanted." He looked over his men a final time, then said, "They wish to continue this hand-to-hand. I won't take advantage. Signal all swords drawn. Charge."

A mighty cry rose from the two sides as they ran toward each other. Solon and Sano followed at the back, stopping as they crested another hill closer to the battle. The general's weary yet alert eyes scanned the conflict, but no orders were necessary. This battle had shifted to a melee. At this point, strategy was useless.

Suddenly, a bright flash of lightning struck the fort, followed by another, ripping the stone and wooden wall asunder. Solon looked to the focus of the incredible lightning, wondering briefly who had enough strength to control so much magic. He clicked his tongue and grimaced when he saw who it was. Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll burn himself out with all that magic he's wielding.

"Do you think that's the signal Ruka asked for?" Sano said.

"I believe so. I think we've done enough damage for today, on both sides. Stand down the attack. Signal our immediate retreat. Not one more blow is to be dealt, at risk of serious punishment."

"Yes, sir!" Sano signaled, and the soldiers immediately began to fall back. The general for the mercenary side yelled something to his soldiers, and they too fell back.

Solon's eyes moved from the retreating soldiers to the remains of their battlefield. Bodies littered the ground, both from the strike of steel and the strike of magic. Highlanders...Jowstoners...both lay there, both equally dead. It didn't matter what color you wore. In the end, you were human...and you were dead.

It took conscious effort to tear his eyes away from the fallen. Some sixth sense drew his vision up to the mercenary force, into the distinct gaze of their dark-haired general. From across the battleground, their eyes locked. Solon felt great strength in those eyes, strength he instantly respected. A few moments passed, both generals caught in the other's scrutiny. Without word or expression, the Highland general turned his horse and went to follow his retreating soldiers.

Solon pushed his horse into a trot and caught up with his second. "Sano, I want you to assemble what remains of the Water squad and heal the injured. When their magic is spent, use the medics. I want the magic gone before the bandages the entire army requires."

"Yes, sir."

Alen took a quick glance at the bloodshed. Both his fellow mercenaries and Highland's troops litter the grassy floor. The ratio between the two was insulting, but at least they held to some extent.. In the end, he and the other mercenaries had lost.

That man is good... I shouldn't have underestimated him so much, I probably could have saved a few lives as well. "God damnit!" He screamed to no one in particular. "I knew I'd fail.. But why? Why am I so fucking surprised?" Alen was, by his very nature, an arrogant man. But, this was quite different. "H-How could I have failed them? Why am I alive and why are they dead?" Alen fell to his knees and buried his face in the palms of his hands. "Why....?"

Alen flinched as a small hand weakly clasped his shoulder. He turned around to find the kitchen girl staring down at him. For the briefest of moments, he felt content, that is until he noticed a steel arrow had impaled her chest, thick brownish red blood ran from her hand and stained a darker colour on his red cape. "No... No!" He screamed as he jumped and caught her in his arms.

"A-Alen.. I was so.. Afraid..." Was all Alen could make out from the gurgling sounds. With her last breath, she reached her hand out towards him.

Alen firmly clasped the hand between his. The firm clench of her hand slowly faded away as her eyes became that much more weak and fell shut. She was dead. Alen collapsed on the dirt floor next to her, still clasping her hand tightly. His mind blanked out and was replaced by a shot of her once vibrant looking eyes, the ones he had compared to those of Lord McDohl. "Damnit! I can't even protect this little girl!" He screamed again, followed my a mutter. "I am weak when I'm alone... But somebody will die for this." Alen rose to his feet, clenching the hilt of his sword tightly. "Solon Jhee will die tonight..."

There he is... Without hesitation, he raised his hand into the air and tore off his glove to reveal the glowing rage rune grafted on his hand. The red glow beat larger with each passing moment. And with a quick reflex, his hand shot forward carrying with it a horizontal column of of pulsating flame which ignited the ground around Solon's steed's feet.

Solon had felt the magic coming at him before he saw it. Perhaps his horse felt it as well, because the moment the flames hit the earth around them, the warhorse bucked in fear, trying to relieve himself of Solon and take off running. Then, the moment passed, and the horse regained his composure.

Who the bloody hell... Solon turned his horse around slowly, staying within the confines of the slowly dying red prison he'd been put in. Through the flames, he spotted the mage...the dark-haired general of the mercenary army.

Alen watched as Solon turned in the fire and stared down the hill at him. His face was cold and hard, etched with years of battle and bloodshed. He took on the seeming of something inhuman, his visage wavering in the fire-heated air. Any other man would have shied away from those hard eyes. Not Alen. Not tonight. Not ever again.

Slowly, Alen pulled his sword from its scabbard, and leveled the point at Solon.

"Lord Jhee!"

Solon turned his head slightly at his second's cry. Sano skidded his horse to a stop next to Solon as the fires finally died.

"My Lord, forgive me...I didn't know you'd been attacked!" Sano followed Solon's unwavering gaze down to the mercenary general, who was quite plainly challenging Solon. "I'll handle him, sir," he said, and started to draw his sword.

A hand stopped Sano in mid-draw. "No, Sano...I'll handle this." The hand returned to the reins, and Solon started the horse toward his opponent at a slow pace.

Alen lowered his sword to his side as the Highland general started down the hill. A thought suddenly struck him. Does he have a Rune too? Alen hoped not. It was probably one damn good Rune if it had been with him throughout his military career. Alen pushed that thought aside and readied himself for the duel.

Only one real way to fight magic...with magic. Solon pulled the metal gauntlet from his right hand, revealing the gold and brown Mother Earth Rune. "You earned that one," Solon said under his breath. A thought, and translucent strands of gold and green surrounded him briefly, then disappeared. "You won't be so lucky from now on."

Alen saw some Rune come to life, then disappear. That wasn't much...I don't care. The bastard's gonna die for what happened today.

The Highland general dismounted his steed sedately, then sent it back to join the others with a slap to his flank. He squared off with the young man, keeping his hands at his sides and away from his sword. If he could avoid this, he would...but if the youth pressed it, he'd have to retaliate.

A moment of confusion passed over Alen as he watched Solon just stand there, not making a move or saying a word. He decided he'd break the silence. "General Solon Jhee, I assume."

He got no response.

With a sarcastic twist on his words, Alen added, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

No response.

Solon just...stood there, staring at him. The fires of battle around them shrouded his eyes in shadow, making him appear looming and evil.

Evil...evil! This man will die!

Alen raised his sword and swung at the large man, a cry of rage crawling out of his throat and past his lips. He expected to cleave the unarmed man in two...but his sword thunked against turned-up earth instead.

Solon looked down at him from where he'd sidestepped the blow. He still made no move for his blade.

Alen gritted his teeth and pulled his sword up in a savage gesture. "How...how dare you! How dare you!" He swung again, and Solon nimbly stepped aside. "How dare you act so superior!" Another swing, closer this time. Solon blocked it with his still-armored left arm, and moved the blade aside. Alen growled, "How dare you come here and kill so many innocents!"

The Rage Rune on his hand started glowing fiercely. He pushed the magical flames forward toward Solon at point-blank range. The general didn't flinch as the fires engulfed him. "How dare you kill my friends! You'll never kill again!" Alen brought his sword up and slashed downward into the ball of flames that was the Highland general. He felt it sink and catch against something.

It was done. Solon Jhee was dead. And the bastard never even drew his blood-stained sword.

Then, the flames surrounding the general dissipated. Alen stared in shock.

Solon had caught his blade. Not only had he caught it, but he caught it in-between the knuckles of the first and second finger on his left hand. A trickle of blood trailing down Solon's cheek showed Alen had still hit him.

Alen pulled his gaze from Solon's hand to his face. The disappearing flames illuminated it, and showed him something he hadn't seen earlier. Solon's eyes weren't cold and hard. They were...sad.

"Sir Alen..." Solon's soft voice carried over despite the continuing battle. "If I could have stopped it...I would have. In a heartbeat."

With that, Solon released Alen's blade. It sank slowly to Alen's side, its owner wondering if he had just heard what he thought he heard.

"Our men need us."

Slowly, sadly, Solon turned and started back up the hill. And Alen watched him go.

Alen met a mercenary soldier inside the burtn compound. The fighting was still going on, but at a far less extent than it was just moments ago. Alen approached the soldier, and said, "I'm 'outta here... After this, I just can't stick around and play mercenary any longer... Give Flik my best."

The soldier turned to him, clenching a blunt sword in his left hand. "Sir, this is really not the time. We've lost the fort!"

Alen looked up and returned his gaze, and began to speak once more. "I realise that, but after all that's happned now... I just can't find it in me to raise this sword for a little while."

The young man looked down and saw Alen's sword clenched in his vibrating hand. "I see, well then good luck, Alen."

"Same to you..." He said, and he was gone.

Sano met his commanding officer mid-way up the hill. He led Solon's mount by its reigns, and when he was close enough, Sano handed the reigns to Solon. The general pulled himself up into the saddle and continued on his way without a word.

A million questions spun around in Sano's head, each battling to be said. Sano ignored them all. It wasn't his place to ask. Instead, he brought his horse up beside Solon's, and they continued back to their soldiers in silence.

This continued for a few moments until the horse Solon rode slowly came to a stop. Sano's horse went a couple steps further before turning back to his rider's commanding officer. "Sir? What is it?"

Solon's voice was low and sad, but somehow easily carried over the din of the continuing battle. "Wait in the hills until the rest of the army passes by. Join them when they do. They won't be needing our help anymore." Solon kicked his horse, starting it forward again, and they passed Sano.

Sano nodded. "I understand, sir, but...where are you going?"

"I have no further role in this. I want no further role, either."

"Sir?!"

Solon turned and faced his second, the weary eyes only looking tired now. "Sano...I've never asked you before to cover for me, but I am now."

It took a moment for Sano to realize, but he finally did. Slowly, he nodded. "I understand, sir. I will."

Solon nodded in return, smiling briefly, then turned and continued on his trek back to Highland.

Sano watched Solon for a moment, then headed back toward his soldiers.

New bodies floated in Solon's closed eyes. New faces covered in blood greeted his every moment of darkness. And they all condemned his name.

Solon cursed his cowardice, and cursed the ever-present weight at his waist.

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"Alen", "Solon Jhee", and "Suikoden 2" are (C) Konami, 1999. This chapter was posted