Chapter 43: Fast Forward - 6 ( Leon - 1 ).
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Location: Lehigh Island.
September, Year 280.
Omni POV (Leon Based.)
***
The Howling Commandos began with a unit.
And while they were good, they weren't many — not at the start anyway. A team small enough that the kingdom's upper echelon barely noticed it, fighting on fronts nobody else wanted, slowly earning a fearsome reputation. Enemy soldiers whispered their names in fear. Allies rallied behind their legends.
As the war progressed the Howling Commandos grew — five to ten, then twenty — with only the bold joining, knowing full well that if they wanted to help the people rather than protect noble interests, this was where they belonged.
When Rogers reached the rank of Captain, he stopped accepting further promotions.
His subordinates could have left, built their own careers somewhere advancement was still possible. Instead they stayed, with more soldiers joining over the years, knowing there was no ladder there. What they received instead were brothers and sisters. A family.
Seventy years later, the Howling Commandos were what they became, The kingdom's shield, Rogers's personal unit. A force that moved without interference from nobility because Rogers had spent seven decades making himself too useful to obstruct and too respected to dismiss. Always where the people needed them — from enemy invasions, crack management, natural disasters, even the most menial of tasks. They did all of it. Never asked for anything in return.
It was all based in one place : Leigh.
An island personally owned by the unit, without a spec of outside control, which only showed the respect and trust the Royal family had in the Captain, especially with the kingdom going through 2 kings in his time."
The island went from an untouched forest to a military base, then bit by bit extended outward — a single shack outside the walls, then two, then the first proper house, then a cluster, until finally it became a town with its own identity and culture.
On base or off the island, the people were the picture of military decorum. In their own town they were a rowdy, chaotic bunch, entirely themselves kind of people — drinking in the afternoon while off duty, starting bar fights over the most trivial reasons while others cheered from the sidelines, then fighting shoulder to shoulder the following morning without a word about it.
It was chaotic but they wouldn't have had it any other way.
***
The roads wound in ways that had nothing to do with logic, but somehow still made sense. Vendors of all types occupied the roadsides, selling food, vegetables, drinks, trinkets, with some even doing roadside shows.
Children ran around laughing, off-duty soldiers argued about card games at outdoor tables.
A woman behind a market stall was deep in negotiation with two soldiers trying to haggle her down. From her scars and her missing left arm, it was clear she had at some point in her life she had served.
Everyone on the island had either served, was currently enlisted, was planning to enlist, or was related to someone who had done one of those things. The place was moulded entirely around the Military.
Leon walked through it and felt the warmth of a place that had no interest in performing itself for visitors. It just was what it was.
Luxion drifted at his shoulder, red eye tracking everything with the calm attention of a system that processed environments the way other people breathed.
"Where did he say to meet them?" Leon asked, stepping around a group of children mid-sprint across the road.
"Hey, careful," he called after them.
"Sorry, Mr. Soldier!" But they didn't slow down.
Leon watched them go with the expression of someone who had left his childhood behind and was looking back fondly at it. "Ahh, kids."
"Sir," Luxion said, with nothing but bad intentions on his mind.
"What is it?" Leon asked with a snap, Luxion had disturbed his reminiscings.
"By the Kingdom's laws and customs, you are still a child."
Leon turned his head slowly toward the silver orb.
"Luxion."
"Yes, sir."
"These are moments where you are supposed to agree with me. And if you can't do that, you keep quiet."
"I'll keep that in mind for the future," Luxion said.
Leon stared at him. "You have been saying that since I was five. It has been seven years."
"Keep it quiet, boy." A voice came from the left — a man of around thirty-eight slumped across the outdoor table of a café, one arm over his face, clearly in a condition that had more to do with last night than this morning. "I'm nursing a hangover."
"It's ten in the morning," Leon said.
"It is?," the man, shocked at the answer, then quickly standing up, "I'm late for my morning drink."
Leon looked at him for a moment. "This place never changes"
Then turned back to the road. "Where are we going again?"
"The Crooked Lady, sir."
"A bar." Leon frowned slightly. "Aren't we a bit young to be going to a bar?"
"Bars serve more than alcohol, sir."
A pause.
"I knew that," Leon said.
"Of course you did, sir." Luxion's tone was perfectly even.
Leon decided not to pursue the matter further.
***
The Crooked Lady's sign hung at an angle that suggested whoever had put it up had made a single effort and considered the matter closed. The building itself was solid — low ceiling inside, long tables already occupied at this hour, the smell of something good drifting from somewhere in the back while morning light came through the windows and made the whole place feel warmer.
"Leon — over here."
Harris was at a table near the far wall, waving with easy familiarity. Leon crossed the room and sat down, taking in the other two as he did.
"Everyone, this is Leon," Harris said. "He's a second year natural. I'm sure you've seen him around base."
"Charles." The one on Leon's left had dark hair kept precisely neat, features sharp and composed. "I'm going to be your team leader."
"Sebastian." The one across from Leon smiled easily. "I was an archer, but I'm making the switch to gunner."
"And you already know me," Harris said. "I'm the frontliner of this rag-tag group of ours."
"There are only three of you," Leon said.
"Recruits are capped at Rank E and F gates," Charles said. "Three is sufficient for those tiers. We're not under pressure to increase our numbers until we move up."
Leon looked between them. "In that case — please take care of me."
Harris raised his cup. Sebastian nodded once. Charles said nothing.
Leon had already decided that meant yes.
"Actually, before we get into all that," Harris said, leaning forward slightly, "we had a question. You're free to pass if you want."
"Go ahead," Leon said.
"Your papers listed your Grace as Eclipse." It was Charles who asked, the same careful, forward lean. "What is that?"
"It's not much of a secret," Leon said. "Heat-based abilities during the day. Cold-based at night."
Charles considered this. "I've never heard of a Grace that works on a cycle like that."
"It was confusing at first," Leon said. "Took me a while to get used to." He paused. "It's fairly support-oriented at this stage. Nothing dramatic."
"Don't stress about that," Charles said. "Most Graces don't get interesting until Rank D. Give it time."
"What about yours?" Leon asked.
"Nothing special like some special people out there," Charles said. "A simple Wind Grace, without any mutations."
"I've got the Artificial Grace — Water," Sebastian said, entirely unbothered by the distinction.
Leon simply raised an eyebrow and moved on without any comment.
Artificial Graces were bestowed rather than awakened — while they were more common, they were occasionally looked down on by most naturals though anyone with half a brain knew the grade mattered more than the origin.
"Life," Harris said.
"I thought you were a front liner," Leon said. "Not a healer."
Harris scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, it confuses most people. I'm a swordsman. While my Grace is Life most of my skills are self-enhancement. Strength, speed, senses, recovery." He picked up his cup. "I just never got the hang of healing others, my mindset never aligned with it, so my skills evolved internally."
"Fair enough."
Harris raised his cup higher. "To a prosperous party — however long it lasts."
"I'll take that," Sebastian said.
"Same." Leon lifted his cup.
Charles joined them a beat later — the same quiet, deliberate motion he did everything with.
"By the way," Harris added, as the cups came down, "breakfast is on you, team leader."
Charles's expression didn't change, but if you looked closer you could see his veins pop for a second as he reached for the menu.
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