The Fall of Everything [Rewrite]

As soon as Corvus opened his eyes, he made a sudden movement to sit up, but the medics quickly intervened, forcing him to stay in bed. "Please remain seated, sir," one of them said in a soft but firm voice. "Your condition is still critical.The poison in your blood has not been fully neutralised. Speeding up your heartbeat could worsen your condition."
Corvus was silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on the ceiling of the tent. His mind drifted back to the moment he had been wounded. He clearly remembered the moment when the poisoned arrow pierced his back. Although he managed to overcome his enemies at that moment, the impact of the blows he received increased with each passing second, and he finally lost consciousness. The noise around him, the hurried steps of the soldiers carrying him and the efforts of the medics trying to close his wounds remained as faint echoes in his mind.
Now the weight of his body and the lethargy caused by the poison in his blood were clearly felt. However, he could not maintain this state any longer. The only thing echoing in his mind was the responsibilities awaiting him and the possibility of losing the war.
"How long have I been asleep?" he finally asked, his voice hoarse and forked. The scars of his wounds and fatigue were evident in every word, but the underlying authority of leadership was still there.
One of the medics spoke as he carefully replaced the blackened Lightstones with new ones. "Just over four hours, sir." he said. There was tiredness and concern in his voice, but he continued to do his job with care.
Corvus frowned and took a deep breath as he heard the reply. Four hours... He had to find out what had happened since the moment he lost consciousness. He pushed aside the haze in his mind and concentrated on gathering the energy in his body. His hand reached for one of the lightstones the medics had just placed and he felt the warm power the stones radiated. He was already channelling this energy to heal his wounds.
"What's the current situation?" he said, his voice clearer this time, but firm. He knew that every moment was vital and he could not bring himself to stay in bed even a moment longer.
But the medics could not answer this question. They hadn't left the tent for a moment in four hours, their full attention focused on Corvus' condition. They had heard nothing but the screams and distant echoes of the battlefield, let alone what was happening in the city. The oldest medic took a deep breath and, after a brief hesitation, with a movement of his head sent a younger medic out of the tent. The young medic quickly got up and headed towards the entrance of the tent, disappearing from sight as soon as he stepped out.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, two familiar figures emerged from the tent entrance. Corvus' eyes immediately recognised the intruders: Tharvork and Draknar. These two names held an important place in Corvus' life. They were the most respected 'Art of War ' instructors in the Rhazgord army and had trained countless warriors over the years. Corvus was one of them, and as a young warrior, under their guidance, he had become a leader on the battlefield.
Tharvork walked in front, with Draknar walking heavily behind him. Both looked much fitter than their peers, their broad shoulders, stern gazes and bodies standing tall despite their age, proudly bearing the scars of many battles. However, a careful eye could notice the slight slowing of their movements, their steps not as fluid as before. It was clear that neither of them was as physically strong on the battlefield as they had been, but the might of their experience made their mere presence effective enough.
Tharvork's broad shoulders seemed to push the tent to its limits. Draknar was taller and leaner, but the serenity of his presence was a reminder of how dangerous he could still be. Both were more than just mentors to Corvus; the sight of them brought back years of rigorous training and discipline that lingered in his mind even on the battlefield.
Tharvork bowed his head slightly as he entered the tent and greeted Corvus. Most of his hair had greyed and the fine lines of his face were more pronounced, but the sharp gleam in his eyes was unchanged. "Sir, ' he said in a deep, full voice, a solemnity filling the air in the room. Draknar, standing behind him, was a little quieter, but the stern expression on his face told Corvus that he too would soon begin to speak.
Corvus leaned his back against the back of the bed as if relieved to feel their presence. These two men were not only his counsellors, but also his mentors, standing by him at the most critical moments of his life. No matter how wounded or exhausted he was, seeing them somehow reassured him. Tharvork and Draknar had been with Corvus from the day he formed his unit, supporting him and providing strategic advice. They had stood by Corvus at every meeting he had held since his arrival in Bahoz.
"How are your wounds?" Draknar asked. His voice was as calm as ever, but the depth of his eyes betrayed the concern he was harbouring. Corvus sat up in bed rather than answer the question directly. Ignoring the medics' objections and attempts to stop him, he reached for the bandages on his back. When he found the knot with his finger and pulled, the thick cloth slowly unravelled, revealing the wound beneath.
The deep cut appeared to be completely closed; the skin was almost unscathed as it healed rapidly with the Lightstone's energy. But when Corvus touched the wound, he immediately realised that the poison in his body was still active. The poison was much more than a simple toxin. It seemed to have been specially designed against a body that could use Lightstone energy; it slowed the natural flow of energy and prevented Corvus from using his full power to its fullest. The poison had subsided, but it still lingered deep within his body.
"I can move," Corvus finally said, throwing the bandages aside. The wound was seemingly closed, but a battle still raged inside him. His voice said that he was ready for duty, no matter what the situation. He turned his eyes to Tharvork and Draknar. There was an unusual tension in their faces, which further fuelled Corvus' curiosity.
"What is the news?" he asked, his gaze piercing them questioningly.
Tharvork took a step forward, a dark expression on his face. His broad shoulders slumped slightly, his eyes focused on a distant point. "We control most of the city," he said, the sharp tone in his voice making it clear that the news was only partially good. "We also control the surrounding area. No enemy can leave the city." But after these seemingly positive words, Tharvork fell silent. His sentence hung in the air and he stared silently at the ground.
Corvus was annoyed that Tharvork did not finish his words. He waited patiently for a moment, but when he realised he would say no more, he turned his eyes to Draknar.
When Draknar saw Tharvork's pause, he spoke. "Kragan and a few warriors have gone scouting for the enemy's headquarters." he said, his voice low but firm. Corvus could tell from Draknar's tone that something was wrong, but it was what Draknar added that really set him off.
"But we haven't heard anything from him in three hours."
Corvus frowned, the atmosphere in the tent growing heavier. He knew Kragan's abilities; it was rare for someone like him to go that long without news. This only added to the seriousness of the situation.
Corvus had already realised that he was not in the city. Therefore, it was normal that the information about what was happening in the city reached the camp a little late. But three hours of silence was more worrying than anything he could think of. However, he did not show his worry on his face. As he gathered his thoughts, he began to put on his armour. His movements were swift and decisive, holding the Lightstone tightly in his palm as he carefully placed each piece. Finally, as he placed the last piece of armour on his shoulder, he asked in a sharp tone: "Has the search party been dispatched?"
Draknar took a step forward, his eyes gauging Corvus' resolve. "Yes, sir," he replied. "But the inner city is difficult to move through.The streets are narrow and dark, and enemies are waiting around every corner. Our fighters are taking great risks to advance.That's why we still have no concrete information. The enemies on the outer parts of the city are almost completely wiped out. As soon as the outside is completely cleared, we will go deeper into the city with all our might. But until then, we can do nothing but wait."
Corvus listened to Draknar's words with a slight frown. It was understandable, given the labyrinthine nature of the streets and the strategic cunning of his enemies. But three hours without word from experienced warriors like Kragan and his companions meant that things had become more complicated.
He knew the power of the Black Masks all too well. These enemies had lethal abilities that could easily overwhelm even trained warriors. But by the same token, he had complete confidence in Kragan and the elite warriors he had taken with him. Still, he could not afford to remain inactive any longer. He double-checked the straps of his armour and secured them, then placed the Lightstone firmly in his belt.
"Let's gather the men from the camp and go for reinforcements." he said, his voice stern and commanding. His eyes were fixed on the entrance to the tent. "We also need to review the city's defences. We must act quickly."
With these words, he headed for the exit of the tent. When the heavy flap of the tent was opened, he encountered the dark night. The smoke rising from the city whispered that the war was still going on. The camp had fallen into a strange silence. Everyone was holding their breath, watching the movements of their leaders. Corvus' elite guards stood silent vigil outside the tent, hands on their weapons, eyes scanning the surroundings. The silence made Corvus feel the weight of his responsibility all the more heavy.
Just then, Belisarius approached Corvus with quick steps. From a distance, the sight of him walking firmly on two legs eased some of the worry on his friend's face. As he approached, however, he could not tear his gaze away from Corvus; he scrutinised him carefully from head to toe to see if he was truly recovered.
"I'm glad to see you are well!" he said, his voice excited but concerned. His hand was lightly touching the hilt of his sword, a sign of the tense waiting of the last hours.
Corvus nodded with a slight smile as he heard Belisarius' words. "The war is not over yet," he said, his eyes shining with determination. Then he added in a low voice, "I do not intend to die before the war is over."
After these words, his face slightly sulked. He put his hand embarrassedly to the back of his neck; it had occurred to him that the Lightstones used to heal him belonged to Belisarius. He felt uncomfortable about being a burden to his friend. He glanced at Belisarius out of the corner of his eye and was about to apologise and say that he would repay his debt as soon as the war was over, when he was distracted by the sound of hoofbeats outside the camp.
A horseman was approaching the centre of the camp in a rush of dust. This soldier did not have the gloom on his face of someone bearing news of fear or disaster, but he was clearly in a hurry.
The rider quickly pulled the reins and jumped to the ground. After a moment's instability, he straightened up and ran, panting, straight to Corvus. "Sir!" he called, stopping a few paces in front of Corvus and saluting. His agitation was evident on his face, but his expression was full of hope, rather than the dullness of someone bearing bad news.
Corvus raised one eyebrow and studied the horseman. Apparently the soldier had come with important news. "What is it? ' he asked, his tone sharp and authoritative. He had no intention of waiting for the rider to catch his breath.
'The Iskats..." the horseman breathed, trying to catch his breath. "The Iskat cavalry has arrived, sir!" he finally said. The happiness and hope in his voice instantly changed the heavy atmosphere over the camp. Corvus' expression, however, never changed. The shadow in his eyes showed that he was judging the situation differently.
Belisarius did not understand the soldier's words, but with the help of a few words he had learnt in Rhazgord language, he realised that someone was coming. But he had no idea whether they were friend or enemy. His eyes focussed on Corvus' face, trying to understand the situation. Curiosity and anxiety dominating his voice, he asked:
"Who is coming, Corvus? Friend or enemy?"
Corvus was silent for a moment. His eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the horizon, as if weighing the news within himself. Then he replied in a tone almost like a whisper:
"Neither of them. My fiancé is coming..."