Duarte slipped away from the Nuri camp, each step deliberate, each breath measured. The cool night air did little to calm the storm raging within him. He could still hear the distant crackling of torches, the quiet murmur of soldiers preparing for the next battle. But his path was set. A lot of people were counting on him. He couldn't let the mercenaries succeed—even if it cost him his life.
King Lusweti had given him a second chance, a chance he never believed he deserved. He had been a slaver, a murderer, a man without a soul. And yet, here was Nuri, a kingdom where men and women fought side by side, where people weren't measured by their past but by their will to fight for something greater than themselves. The sight of women taking up arms, of soldiers battling not for coin but for love and honor, was something unheard of in the world he once knew.
"If I survive this," he murmured, fists clenched, "I will dedicate my life to this kingdom."
