Deserter
The Mark of the Legion
“The colonel said duty required us to hold the line. The general said victory was close. The graveyard said otherwise, so I chose to listen to the graveyard.”
Most soldiers are taught that discipline is strength.
Deserters learn that discipline is often habit wearing the uniform of virtue.
At one time, a deserter stood where every other soldier stood. They marched when ordered, obeyed regulations, followed routines, maintained equipment, and accepted the authority of people placed above them. Whether they served willingly or reluctantly, they experienced military life from the inside. They learned how armies function, how chains of command operate, and how institutions transform individuals into components of a larger machine.
Then, for one reason or another, they left.
The circumstances vary enormously. Some fled after witnessing actions they could not accept. Some lost faith in the cause they were ordered to serve. Others were falsely accused and chose escape over punishment. A few simply reached the limits of what they were willing to sacrifice. There are also those whose reasons were less noble. Fear, guilt, self preservation, greed, or simple exhaustion have sent many soldiers into flight.
Whatever the reason, desertion creates a perspective few people ever acquire.
Most civilians see armies as unified organizations. They see ranks, uniforms, formations, and regulations. Deserters know how much of that image depends upon appearances. They know which regulations are routinely ignored, which officers are respected only because of their position, which soldiers are loyal to the cause, and which are merely waiting for their enlistments to end.
More importantly, they understand that these observations apply far beyond the military.
Years spent surviving after desertion teach lessons about institutions in general. Governments, guilds, religious orders, noble households, commercial enterprises, and military organizations all present themselves as orderly structures governed by clear rules and procedures. In reality, they are composed of people. People make exceptions. People develop habits. People become complacent. People create shortcuts. People ignore regulations when convenient and enforce them when useful.
The longer an organization exists, the more such cracks begin to appear.
Deserters become skilled at finding them.
Many develop a practical understanding of how authority actually functions. Official titles matter less than influence. Regulations matter less than enforcement. Public rules often differ from private reality. A gate may be heavily guarded during inspections and nearly abandoned at other times. A procedure that appears strict on paper may survive only because everyone assumes somebody else is enforcing it.
These observations frequently make deserters skeptical. Some become cynical, convinced that every institution is fundamentally dishonest. Others simply develop a habit of looking beyond appearances before accepting claims of authority. They tend to trust individuals more readily than organizations and experience more than promises.
In lands scarred by the Shattering, such attitudes are hardly uncommon. Kingdoms have fallen. Governments have vanished. Armies have disintegrated. Entire systems of authority have collapsed and been replaced by new ones claiming greater legitimacy than their predecessors. Deserters have often witnessed these failures firsthand. They know how fragile supposedly permanent institutions can become when enough people stop believing in them.
Yet many deserters remain deeply shaped by their former service. Military life leaves habits that are difficult to abandon. They continue to notice routines, evaluate security, identify chains of command, and look for escape routes. Some retain loyalty toward former comrades long after abandoning the organizations that commanded them. Others spend years wrestling with guilt, wondering whether they made the right decision or simply chose the easier path.
Few experiences force a person to examine their values as thoroughly as desertion.
Remaining requires one kind of courage.
Leaving requires another.
The world often judges deserters by the act itself rather than the circumstances surrounding it. Sometimes that judgment is deserved. Sometimes it is not. The truth usually proves more complicated than either side wishes to admit.
Most people see uniforms and authority and assume they are strong.
A deserter has seen the machinery behind the curtain and learned where the cracks begin.
“People call me a deserter because I walked away. Funny. The men who started the war all stayed exactly where they were.”
Type
Military
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