[Chapter 2 - Foreign land]


    I awoke with a start. The taste of blood filled my mouth, mingling with the saliva and dirt which pooled before my open jaw. My head was on the ground, the side of my face buried in the dirt. Coughing was accompanied by a discharge of crimson, a symptom following the splitting headache which tore my mind asunder. Voices in the distance. I wasn’t sure how long had passed. The cool night air now brushed against my skin, my nose catching with it the faint smell of smoke. Opposite me lay the soldier in silver and gold. He was no longer hunched over, having collapsed much like I had. I tried to prop myself up on one arm, but immediately I threw the other out in front as my strength gave way. Voices again, this time louder. It took everything I had to force myself up, wrenching out an exhausted grunt as I staggered forwards to maintain some form of balance. Blood rushed to my head and I stumbled, endeavouring to avoid the bodies strewn across my path. Each movement was accompanied by the screaming of muscle, a pain relieved only by my eventual collapse into the roots of a nearby tree. The voices were much closer now, emanating from the growing torch light which flickered in the treeline opposite. Between desperate gasps in an attempt to bring my frantic breathing under control, I pressed my face against the cold wood, eyes focused on the growing light. Two men soon emerged, stepping into the clearing with flaming torches in hand. By their sides rested swords sheathed in leather scabbards, the metal pommels glinting with every step. One was covered by a muted gambeson, the padded grey armour spanning his entire body. His companion favoured a metal breastplate instead, worn and grimy from neglect. Bandits, judging from their mismatched equipment and the fresh blood which still glistened over their gloves. Deserters or ex-mercenaries, it did not matter. It would be of no good for them to know I was here. Words exchanged between the two, their tone conversational with a hint of snide cruelty. They seemed unfazed by the corpses surrounding them, occasionally stopping to peer closer at a fallen corpse. I put my knife away, slowly pulling the handgun out in exchange. They seemed to be alone, nothing in their behaviour to indicate they were accompanied by a larger group nearby. A knife would be vastly disadvantageous against two full swords, not even considering the hefty armour the shorter one was clad in. As they trudged closer, I could just about make out the words they spoke. The language was one unknown to me, but still I strained my ears to see if there was anything I could pick up.


    Pathetic. A rasp, drowsy but condescending. That single word filled my mind. For a second it startled me, jolting forwards as my eyes widened. And then immediately a wince, a sharp excruciating pain inflicted by the voice which had sounded in my head. Adrenaline demanded that I quickly regained my composure, holding in my breath as I glanced back, fearing that the two men had noticed me even across this distance. Nothing. Despite the voice which had sounded in my mind, the figures appeared oblivious, too absorbed in their conversation.


    For a brief moment nothing happened, the two conversing as they pressed closer. And then their words seemed to distort, their dialogue muffled, blurring in my ear. As quickly as it had come, the feeling stopped. In its place, comprehension of their speech flowed into my mind, clarifying itself as if they spoke a language I had always known. My brows furrowed. If not for the tense situation, I would have exclaimed in shock. A snicker sounded briefly at the back of my brain, before I could query it the men’s voices disrupted my attention.


    “All this fucking money around us and we can’t touch shit.” A northern accent. It was thick, spat out by the taller of the two in the gambeson.


    “These guys are Solari elites.” The other pushed a body to its side, turning him over with his foot. “They see one plate in your hands and you’ll be dead in the morning.”


    “We sell one set and we’re set for life. This guy’s alone can buy a whole damn village.”


    “You sell one set,” the guy turned his head to face his taller companion, his voice snarky, almost accusatory, “and you’ll be strung up a fucking tree. Noone will buy it you fuck.” He turned back, waving his torch in an arcing motion he gazed across the clearing. I shifted back, shielding myself from view as the flame light danced across the scenery around me. Ears straining, desperately listening to make up for what I could not see. “Let’s just find some conscripts and take what we can.”


    “Oi, Ansgar.” A sudden nervousness, a hint of uncertainty evident in the larger man’s voice. A silence followed. And then the trudging of feet in dirt, coming closer whilst not quite directly towards me. I sat with bated breath. My exhaustion had died down, replaced entirely by the blood pulsing in my veins. Killing both would not be difficult, the gun would punch straight through the steel plates. The problem would lie when they went missing, or else when their companions found their bodies. Nonetheless I gripped it tighter, my knuckles white from the tension. I could hear them drawing nearer, the undergrowth crunching beneath their feet and the occasional thudding of metal as another soldier was pushed aside. Switching off the safety, I held it tight in my hands. And then. The same voice, this time the unease was clear.


    “Shit, is that…?”


    “Albericht.” A single word, breathed out by the voice I recognised to be Ansgar. His crass cockiness was gone, replaced by agitation and fear. I risked a glance, peeking out from behind the tree trunk which shielded my body, caution losing to curiosity. Gambeson was knelt against the soldier in gold, one hand pulling the body back to show his face, the other holding the torch out in front of him. Angsgar had recoiled at the sight, my eyes just barely making out his fearful expression in the dark. “We’re fucking leaving”. He staggered back, his words shaking with an unknown fear. “Now!”


    Gambeson stumbled to follow, hastily grabbing the torch he clumsily dropped beside the stream. They both clambered towards the treeline they had come from, a hasty movement all the more betraying their agitated temperament, accompanied by the odd glance backwards as if fearing the soldier would follow. It was only when they had gone beyond the treeline that I pushed myself up. With nowhere else to go, following them was as good a path as any. With this distance, I could move without fear of discovery, the trees shrouding my sight and sound from view. I was still exhausted, but the brief respite I had been granted helped me put one foot in front of the other. Unease at the earlier voice whispered at the back of my mind, but for now there was nothing I could do to enquire it further. If not for my newfound understanding of the fleeing mens’ conversation, I would have doubted that it had even occurred, dismissing it as nothing more than some paranoid imagination wrought by the adrenaline and tension of the moment. Albericht. The soldier was unknown to me, but the fear his identity installed in the two were clear.


    ***


    The manor which Angsgar and Tedric went into was not especially large. Its status was nonetheless obvious from the limestone brick walls and tiled roof it boasted, a stark contrast to the mud village walls which I had flitted through to follow them. It had taken them some distance to get here. If not for their torches, I would have long lost them in the forest dark. Instead, it betrayed their position well, serving as wisps of light for me to follow as I followed them through the undergrowth. Whilst they were far enough ahead to not hear me, I still took care to make as little noise I could, avoiding the branches and leaves which webbed across my path. When the forest finally cleared, it gave way once more to vast open plains. There, the forest ceiling which had shielded the sky above had gone. In its place, a dome of night blue, rendered with a tinge of purple by the twin moons that served as its inhabitants. The silhouettes of clouds drifted slowly past, shrouding the stars which watched the world from above. Thatch houses dotted the scene, the white mudwalls illuminated between the strong timber frames. And in between, a dirt road snaked a path, one rendered by the continuous movement of villagers and carts. The manor lay to the side, isolated from the village by a small stream. As if to emphasise this, fire light clustered around the manor, emanating from the torches which decorated its beige walls. The rest of the village was left dark. Save for a singular torch at its center, the other buildings were lit only by the cold moonlight. As I made my way behind the houses, pressing my back against the white mud wall, it was quickly clear to see why. In the centre of the village lay a stone well, a bucket suspended by the wooden pulley atop it. Several bandits gathered around, clearly identifiable by their mismatched armour and rough demeanour. Some sat on stools or on the floor, whilst the one holding the torch propped himself up against the wooden frame of the well. Around them lay numerous corpses, some dragged into a burnt mound, blood trailing behind them, others left on the floor. Scarlet pooled around dismembered limbs, splattering against the walls of the houses nearby. Heads, whether attached or otherwise, lay there illuminated by the moonlight. All bore tortured expressions, whether of pain or of anguish. I gagged, repressing a retch invoked by the grotesque sight before me. Unlike the battlefield before, this had been a massacre, one which the men had clearly revelled in. There were only three of them here, all armed, laughing to themselves in their blood-stained clothes as they mocked the dead around them. A leering smile found its way onto their mouths as they saw Breastplate and Gambeson draw near. Hidden behind the houses, it was too far for me to hear the words they exchanged. Nonetheless in the torchlight I could see their cockiness quiver for a moment at the news. Those that were seated stood up, and together they sauntered down the road with an uneasy haste towards the manor. With their attention predisposed, I slipped between the houses, following their movement. Despite the boarded up windows, a slight sobbing halted my steps. I could hear it in the houses, and with it brought an anger within me. The road itself ran towards the manor, transitioning into a small brick bridge which pathed its way over the small river flowing from within the forest. Upon its landing, it branched out, the smaller route heading for fields that stretched into the distance whilst the larger stopped at the stone doorway of the manor house. There sat another guard, his spear lying lopsidedly in one arm whilst the other held a wooden tankard to his lips. He was lounging leisurely against the brick wall, illuminated by the torch light above which shone beside the ivy that crept up. Whilst the hedge flanking the path shielded myself from sight, crossing the bridge would draw to me too near for my liking. Observing them from the bank across, I could not hear the exchange that occurred between the group and the guard. A few words, and then he waved them in impassively. Even from here I could hear the raucous laughter emanating from the brightly lit manor house. A grotesque cackling of deprived revelry, disrupted only by the occasional scream which preceded another round of sadistic laughter. I gritted my teeth in anger. Despite the copious amount of death I had seen today, no sight had disgusted me more than what I had witnessed in this village. As the group let themselves in through the wooden door behind the gateway, a brief sober silence washed over the manor, broken only by words in a voice I recognised to be Gambeson’s, although the words I could not make out from this distance. That was clearly followed by a dismissive remark, one from an unknown voice, and then the laughter continued, and with it the thud of wood as tankards smashed into tables. The guard sat there alone, his unbroken demeanor clearly of boredom. And so I lay there as well, hidden behind the hedgerow, eyes observing through the branches at the bank opposite, and waited.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    It took some time for the noise to die down. The guard dozed off first, his head slumped against the brick pillar with his arm around his spear, mouth half open in a gentle snore as the tankard lay loose in his unclenched hand. The rest of the manor soon followed suit, and the air that had been filled with vile laughter was now one of complete silence. It was obvious as to why security was so lax. The villagers who would resist likely lay dead in that square behind, the brutal treatment they faced undoubtedly discouraging the survivors. The arms and armour they carried with them were likely to ensure that effect as well. As for Albericht, no matter how much they feared him he still lay unmoving in that clearing twelve miles back. I was glad at least that I would not feel any guilt in the task I was about to perform. Although not entirely linked to my eventual goal, it would still prove beneficial; not only for my conscience, but also through what I could scavenge in its aftermath. My knife had not left my hand the whole time, I was not careless enough to sheathe it since my first meeting with the dead soldier in the forest all those hours ago. With it held behind my back, my other arm skimmed the cold stone in front of me as I made my way slowly across the bridge. My eyes were locked on the sleeping figure ahead, alert for even the slightest movement. Save for the odd muttering and scratching of neck, no signs came to indicate any waking. I found myself quickly in front of him, hunched over in the faint torchlight, my vision focused on his exposed neck in bated breath. And then in quick succession, my land hand slamming his nose and mouth into the side wall, the knife in my right slitting his throat in one fluid motion. He startled, his eyes bulging open, arms flailing in panic as he dropped his tankered. For a brief second he scrambled around, groping for my arm, his spear, his neck, anything to stop the blood flowing from his neck. But quickly unconsciousness took him, heralded by a sudden stiffness as shock overtook his body before he slumped back. Numbers emanated from the open wound, a successive flow of red integers flowing at an incessant rate. -12, -8, -10, -6. Although I knew it was coming, it was still a bizarre sight to see. An indicator of his blood loss, clearly displayed before my very eyes. Save for the brief gargling of blood as his heart desperately tried to nutriate his brain, he died without further sound. -9, -5, -0, -0. The 0s ticked thrice before disappearing completely, succeeded by a brief +26 exp which quickly followed suit. The number was not merely trivial. As soon as I saw it I could feel its affects rippling through my body. A uncle feeling, but when I clenched my fingers it was there. A hint of muscle memory, the confident understanding of what motions to do, if only slightly. Also felt a strengthening of my mind, if only a little. A steeling of resolve. It’s feeling was almost euphoric in a sense. Still for a second longer I kept my hand firm on his face, feeling out for any form of breathing. None came, and I leant back against the wall, letting out a sigh of relief. not even a day, and someone’s life had already been taken by my hands. Whilst it was not something I was unaccustomed to, the taste of blood which drenched my front left an unpleasant tang. he had deserved it, the dried blood which had previously coated his spear attested towards his cruelty towards the villagers. yet it was still not something i had fully accustomed myself to, the taking of human life. with the do, i felt my mental strength increase, alongside my understanding of knife slitting i guess idk.


    I spat it out, clearing my mouth of the unpleasant taste. Drawing myself up, I glanced at the wooden door which led into the manor house. I had managed to keep the noise subdued, but I was still wary of any unexpected soldiers stumbling out for any reason. Any that perhaps sensed something had happened. Fortunately no one came. Blood covered the sprawled figure beside me, a red dye smothering the exposed fabric. I took his sword, the one hung by his side, and strapped the belted sheath around my waist. A weapon for emergencies, one common to this world. An situation, I hoped, which would not arise. The weight beside me felt heavy, unfamiliar. I had no experience with it after all. Years of military involvement had developed for me a strong physique, alongside fluid knife skills and precise hand-eye coordination. Swordsmanship however, was an art wholly unfamiliar to me. His kettle helmet I lowered, covering his face and the knife slit that paved his throat. Another dry smile. As if the blood which covered his front was not clear to indicate something had happened. If not for that, he looked as if he had simply just dozed off. I left him there regardless, propped up against the stone wall of the manor. If I could I would extinguish the faint light above as well, although that would not be as plausible with the tools I had on me. The brickwork seemed more imposing up close, even if the building itself was not particularly large. Ivy spanned the walls, crawling up above me as I made my way through the archway. In that small courtyard, the main door that led into the house stood ajar to my right. The thick timber was imposing, dark iron nails studding planks of solid oak wood. From beyond it an orange glow, a subdued flickering light emanating from the rooms beyond. I took care to be light on my feet, wary of the scraping of gravel as I cautiously stepped towards the open door. I gently pried it further open, wincing at every creak of the rusted hinge. The foyer itself was not particular large, and the snoring and faint sobbing I could hear from the doorway to my right made it obvious that most of the bandits lay in the hall next to me. Bandits, and seized villagers. I set my bag to the side, placing the unwieldy sword next to it. Knife in hand, I walked forwards, and turned into the manor hall.