The dull clatter of a double-edged steel blade falling upon packed dirt resounded through the wind-swept tent as Solon Jhee allowed his heavily-armored form to slump into the hard-oak chair beneath him. Another day had passed, another day of blood and battle...and all his mind could think about was the nagging fatigue that washed through his hardened body.

Tonight was the supposed last day of the decades-long bloodshed. Highland and the Jowston City-State were closing the curtain upon their brutal war which should have ended with Han and Genkaku...this time for good.

However, Solon's mind floated free from the thoughts of peace as he settled his steel-gray eyes upon the lonely oil lamp that sat upon the small oaken table at the corner of the tarped tent. He could faintly see his face reflecting within the glass tube that encased the dancing flame within, his swept-back, silver-streaked black hair and rugged face tinted in the color of fire. He could see the blood flecked on his face...some sparse specks his own, but most of it not.

Solon shifted uncomfortably within his heavy plate armor, the silver facets similarly blotched with crimson amongst his uniform of deep blues, soft whites, and raven blacks. His olive green cape felt as if it were trying to swallow him whole, like a beast thirsting for his blood as well as that of his rivals. The heat of the metal and the humidity of the night air was unbearable; either he changed out of his armor and got into something more comfortable, or he could suffer from heat exhaustion. The choice was an easy one, to say the least...

Reaching to unclasp the cloak from his armor, Solon Jhee stood back up, his garb clunking dully in rhythm to his movements. His reflection within the flickering lamp seemed so weathered, so old...and despite the fact that he was only around thirty-one years of age, the strains of his lifestyle were apparent in the silver streaks within his otherwise black hair and the hard lines set upon his chiseled face. He almost looked about ten years older than he truly was! A grimace bloomed upon his features as he let his cape rumple to the ground and proceeded to remove the gauntlets that sheathed his large hands.

This is the price for the strains of battle and for accepting the responsibilities as a Highland general, he quickly reminded himself, placing the silvery gauntlets upon the same table as the oil lamp. Count your blessings, Jhee. Those in your position are lucky to live as long as you have.

Indeed, life for a soldier was hardly glamorous...but it was the only life he ever knew. His father had made sure of that, so many years ago. He was bound in life-long servitude to Highland. To do otherwise would be a blow to his honor...his own honor, his father's honor, his FAMILY's honor...

Solon glanced down at his upturned right hand, at the faint-lined rune that lay imprinted upon his palm. The rune was that of the Mother Earth, the only legacy he gained from a mother he never knew save for his father's stories of her. Memories of those tales flooded his mind as he glanced at the jagged edges of the faintly glimmering sigil, haunting his already-troubled thoughts. He quickly growled and shook his head clear of the intruding memories before they gained a strong foothold.

Dammit, pull yourself out of the pit before you fall into it! A soldier doesn't have time to think like this. Nostalgia can come AFTER the treaty's signed and it's all done and dealt with.

Quickly unbuckling the straps of his heavy breastplate and attached shoulder pauldrons with his now-bare hands, Solon Jhee slipped the heavy armor off of his muscular frame, leaving only the light white tunic that lay underneath. A good degree of the oppressive heat that had plagued him moments before immediately subsided as a cool breeze whisked into the tent through the entrance flap, ruffling his shirt just slightly. Turning the armor around, he examined its shining surface and nodded in satisfaction. Not a single scratch marred its perfect surface, save for the minor blotchings of blood. He hadn't lost his touch, apparently.

Setting the armor beside the table, Solon once again slumped into the oak chair that stood at the center of his tent quarters and proceeded to unbuckle the genouilleres and jambs that cuffed his heavy leather boots. For some unspeakable reason, the peace treaty between the warring nations almost seemed too good to be true, like a dream that was just that...something that couldn't be attained. His instincts as a general told him that he had good reason to keep his guard up, that his current status on the front could change at any moment...either for better or for worse.

So...what to do if the war IS truly over...?

Solon grimaced, letting his broad back slump against the back of his chair. A general wasn't of much use outside of war or fighting, of killing and bloodshed. War was always like that, producing a generation of men that had no future beyond that of what they were trained to do. Of course, maybe he could go back to his knight's duties back at the palace of L'Renouille, the capital of Highland. Being a royal bodyguard wasn't that bad of a job, and the living conditions were certainly better than being holed up in a tent for months on end...

Another punishing wave of fatigue washed over Solon's body. Five hours had passed into the night and his army's camp, stationed within a few miles of L'Renouille, was becoming still as activities passed onto sleep. A stray thought of how nice it would be to finally sleep in a real bed instead of military-issued cots passed through his mind, lifting his dour expression into a faintly amused one. Still, a bed was a bed; at least he didn't have to sleep on the hard ground.

Solon Jhee decided to sit and listen to the mingling sounds of the night as the oil lamp that dully illuminated his quarters began to wane and flicker out, pitching him in near-complete darkness. For all he knew, it could very well be the last time he heard the serenade of chirping crickets within the stillness of a sleeping army camp...