《Deserter》


 Prologue: A memory of the past.

    Walls shadow over the inside of a nearly collapsed city, despair left and right, plagued by the quietness of death. People exist only to suffer but they exist nonetheless.


    As the capital¡¯s knights rode on their horses, they passed by the city while on their crusade. After they entered they crossed paths with the desperately ill citizens, one of them being a young starved boy.


    The young boy appears from the shadows looming over and tries to get the attention of a knight. The knight in question wears a blood covered bandage over his head but his eyes creepily stare through. The young boy signals his mouth as if he was asking for food.


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    The knight ponders about what to do with the boy''s situation, he is not allowed to give out food to peasants. He thinks for a second before going to his horse to grab something stashed in the saddle, a sheathed sword. He returns to the boy and drops the sword on his hands, almost failing to catch it.


    ¡°Become part of my company, and you will be able to afford your own food if you work for it.¡± The knight said, the boy continued to stare at the sword and mumbled a quiet ¡°Okay¡±.


    The knight picked up the boy, almost appalled by his smell but proceeded to put him on the horse, and they continued on the crusade with the rest of the knights.


    Nobody asked a question about the boy, nobody dared to. The rest of the knights remained silent under their iron helm.


    The famished gave a deadly stare to the boy, however he continued to face the ground as they rode off to the city¡¯s castle.

 Chapter 1: Rigorous Training

    The sound of relentless combat echoed over the fortress walls from the inner ward, yet the atmosphere was devoid of the usual death and despair unlike before. In the middle of expansive, empty hills, beneath the scorching sun, the fortress stood tall.


    Within the halls, reverberated the silent chatter of the off-duty mercenaries, creating a subtle murmur. In spite of that, a few distinct voices stood out amongst the gentle whispers.


    ¡°Commander, don¡¯t you believe it is time for them to be awoken?¡± A pleasing voice sounded through the helm of an armour-clad maiden, who followed behind a man of tall posture and bandaged eyes, donning a similar armour but more worn out.


    The bandaged man didn''t bother turning to face the woman, instead opted to answer nonchalantly, ¡°We will commence their first training session soon.¡±


    The woman, taking note of his response, continued, ¡°I hope your methods of raising soldiers will prove a crucial asset in the tensions between Bami and the Avaran Empire, Sire Ashon.¡± Her gaze couldn¡¯t be seen through the helm but her tone was all he required.


    Their conversation promptly concluded, with no need for further words.


    Walking forwards towards a flight of stairs that led underground, the two figures entered the scene. Before them, at the end of the stairs, stood an old wooden double door towering over two metres in height.


    Hesitating to open the door, Ashon hands fumbled around his belt as if searching for something. After a moment, he pulls a small notebook out of a pouch, detailing a list of numbers and names accordingly.


    After a short pause, finally committing to opening the door, all the ambient light spilled in, illuminating his presence casting a heavy and impenetrable shadow upon his face and the woman¡¯s armour all the same.


    The room, now dimly lit, contained pallets arranged in an orderly array which contained, upon them, peaceful sleeping children. But the peace was ever fleeting.


    Ashon, preparing his voice, raised its volume and commanded, ¡°All recruits, wake up!¡±.


    Without hesitation, the children sprung up one by one, forming three single-file lines besides each other. Each line contained an assortment of around six boys. After they sort themselves out, in unison they say, ¡°Good morning, Sire.¡±


    Ashon spared a brief glance at the woman who had accompanied him up to this point, then redirected his attention back to the boys standing in line. ¡°Prepare for the beginning of your education. We will be heading to the Behourd shortly.¡±


    Oblivious to the woman behind him, Ashon was promptly reminded of her presence through an intentional cough. Casting his attention back at the boys, he added on to his previous statement, ¡°All pyromancers, follow Lady Inga Fairclough to the Sol praying site and we shall meet later upon the training grounds.¡±


    The blinding sun hits their face as they exit, causing discomfort in their eyes. Proceeding as instructed, with the pyromancers leading a small group in one direction while the rest followed behind Ashon in another.


    - - -


    As the group approached the broad enclosure ringed by stone walls dedicated to the behourd, the youth became filled with awe. The dissimilar sight laid before them, demanded their attention. Hefty and hammered wooden pells arranged in an orderly manner, along with targets atop haystacks that toted arrows.


    However, no opportunities for exploration would be provided. The purpose of these grounds were pure and definite. Ahead of them laid a wooden podium. Its purpose was made clear to the boys once Ashon strode forward and ascended its steps.


    They remained in line, awaiting any further orders and with a disciplined stance, they made a great effort to minimise their movements.


    The wandering stillness broke with a strong clear of his throat, signalling the commencement of his speech, ¡°Welcome, recruits.¡± He declared. After a deliberate short pause, he continued, ¡°As you would soon come to understand, you will serve under the banner of our mercenary company, Magistral.¡±


    With the utterance of those words, the eyes of the boys brimmed with wonder and intrigue. Seizing the moment and leaving them no time to dwell on his words, he pressed onwards with his speech, ¡°Your duties will not be pretty, and quite often gruesome.¡±


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    By this point, the small group of three pyromancers had already returned and had fallen in the formation, with Lady Inga positioned behind the main cohort. He paused momentarily, allowing them enough time to arrange themselves before he ensued, ¡°However in return, you will receive thorough training, stable lodging, meals and in due course, a sufficient amount of Gepack.¡±


    Chatter arose from the rows, but a surprising resounding thud of the podium swiftly put it to rest. ¡°Nobody shall dare to talk out of line, on the training grounds. Heed this as your last warning.¡±  He proclaimed, addressing the entire assembly.


    The young boys tensed up and their eyes widened. Now imbued with unshakable fear, each breath echoing the weight of their actions. The grip on their hearts compelled them to not let a word escape their tight sealed lips.


    - - -


    Led by their new instructor clad in silver armour, they marched onwards to the training grounds and ahead of them laid a land that was rugged with rough uneven patches of dirt and gravel. With naked feet, they pressed forward, enduring all the discomfort.


    Their instructor came to a halt, pivoting to face the young recruits, ¡°Arrange yourselves¡±, he commanded with a stern tone. Simultaneously removing his helmet to face them directly.


    Upon closer inspection of the children, a weakened young boy with light coloured-hair, who appeared quite famished, momentarily grabbed his attention. However his gaze returned to the masses that awaited his words.


    In a composed tone, he uttered ¡°Welcome to today¡¯s physical conditioning training.¡± addressing every young recruit in the vicinity. He continued with his speech ¡°I am your instructor for the day, William Townsend.¡±


    And with those final remarks, the beginning of the training was officially marked.


    - - -


    ¡°Nobody shall leave the behourd until they complete a thousand repetitions!¡± shouted William, observing the youth desperately strive to tackle a thousand repetitions of the push-up exercise.


    Despite hours passing by, not a single participant managed to complete their set. Their arms trembled with fatigue, their heads spinning. Nevertheless, the boys persevered, for this was the fate they sought.


    In an unexpected turn of events, the first participant came through completing his sets. However, unable to stand up, he opted to crawl to the side where moments later, he lay upon his own vomit. Many followed soon after.


    The recruits finished their sets one after the other, in no particular sequence. Each one collapsed as badly as the last one, succumbing to the exhaustion caused by the rigorous training. Those remaining were the physically weak and most famished, often falling and pushing themselves to continue.


    It took no more than an hour for practically all the sets to be completed. All except one boy, the same one with light-coloured hair. He remained weakened, tears streaming down his cheeks from the intense anguish. Pitied by his peers, silent murmur arose from the back, however the instructor spared no thought.


    His patience however, had now waned, and in a loud tone exclaimed ¡°You shall remain here, deep into the night till you complete these repetitions.¡± With a decisive pivot, he turned to the opposite direction and uttered ¡°We shall continue with the training. Follow in my steps.¡±


    In a moment¡¯s notice, the cohort abandoned the boy, forsaking him to his lonesome and solitude alone. His face bore remnants of dried vomit, his palms were teared open with wounds. Though his arms had yielded to the fatigue long ago, he persisted.


    Unexpectedly, a shadow ascended from within his sight, revealing a boy of similar age, sporting short black hair and quite more physically healthy than his struggling peer.


    ¡°Laugh if you must¡­¡± murmured the struggling boy, his words nearly a whisper.


    The healthy boy regarded him with a strange look and with piercing confidence he retorted, ¡°Why would I do that?¡±


    The young struggler, not fond of words, refrained himself from any further retort. Mustering all his remaining strength for a formidable extortion, he gave it all on a mighty push, barely managing one additional repetition.


    The onlooker, left in awe, commented, ¡°Five hundred eighty-three¡­¡±


    His eyes widened with surprise, but he refused to let it distract him. Lying down to recover his strength, he soon found himself unable to muster another push.


    Resting his head upon his arms, tears traced the outline of his cheeks once more, and his nose sniffling with discontent. Amidst all the pain, his mind bore all but one thought ¡®I don¡¯t want to return to that place¡­¡¯


    The observing child scratched his head,sighed and after a brief moment of thought, he slowly bent his knees. Falling in line with his struggling peer, he started counting once more at the start of his own repetitions, ¡°Five hundred eighty-four¡­¡±


    The struggler, taken aback by the unexpected resumption of counting, found himself rendered speechless. With the silence pierced by the boy¡¯s voice, declaring, ¡°We¡¯re gonna complete these together, but promise me you will repay these later¡± he omitted in a nonchalant tone.


    A peculiar look crossed the ex-spectator¡¯s face as he regarded the struggling boy, but within mere moments he was frantically shaking his head up and down.


    ¡°I¡¯m Reiziko,¡± pausing momentarily to gain one more repetition, he proceeded to ask the young struggler, ¡°You?¡±


    The boy, bewildered by this turn of events, felt compelled to answer and yet he did so with a slight delay. ¡°My name¡­ is Vasily¡± he uttered in a whispered tone.

 Chapter 2: Marching Backwards

    The morning sun bestowed its radiant warmth with rays of light that shone brightly upon the weathered stone walls of the silenced fortress. Outside the peaceful confines, a cohort of rushing shirtless young boys led by a short brown haired man had disturbed the quiet ambience.


    In their unorganised formation, the group¡¯s march resounded, causing the stable earth to tremble beneath their feet. Nearest to the front strode the physically fit, while trailing behind at the back were the visibly fatigued and weakened.


    Positioned toward the bottom of the latter¡¯s ranks, and lacking behind even, Vasil found himself at the very back, his thin and fatigued figure was made apparent in the absence of his overwear. Despite his position, he still directed his stare straight ahead of him, cutting through the figures ahead of him and settling on singular boy, Reiziko.


    In his oxygen deprived state, a single thought repeated relentlessly in his mind ¡®I have to become better¡­¡¯ Driven by his desperate but faint will to get stronger, he clung to consciousness, unwilling to succumb to the waves of exhaustion. Yet, amidst all of his exhaustion, crippling doubts occasionally seeped in, magnifying the weight of his inadequacies.


    The distance between him and the rest widened, his expression fell into a deep scowl and his breathing grew more ragged. Gradually, he began to slow down, nearly coming to a stop if not for his instructor.


    ¡°I can¡¯t¡­¡±


    That notion resounded in his thoughts, painfully aware that his lack of skill was causing troubles for the others.


    The soreness of his feet grew ever louder with each step, the heaps of exhaustion becoming more noticeable by the moment. And yet, despite his physical strain, his gaze grew vacant. His once vibrant motivation that fueled his movements had vanished, replaced with a dark and ominous purpose that bore its roots deeper into his mind.


    - - -


    The sun ascended higher than before, cursing the land with its heat rays across the training grounds. Their training session had concluded and now, everyone gathered in the mess hall, awaiting their lunches with silent eagerness. The cluttering of trenchers clouded the halls as each boy received their portion.


    The group which Reiziko and Vasil belonged arrived last, their entry delayed significantly compared to the rest. The single-file line of overworked boys approaching the mess hall was beyond exhausted, their faces marked by a flushed red hue, displaying their lack of oxygen via erratic breathing.


    Like prior, the line unintentionally arranged itself in order of physical prowess, with the stronger finding themselves at the front and the weaker towards the end. Once again, Vasil found himself among the end of the line while Reiziko remained in front, leaving the two no opportunity to converse.


    The group remained silent amidst all the buzzing loudness emanating from the hall. Though their expressions were concealed by a mask of exhaustion, the frustrated scowls which bore roots on their face were unmistakable.


    Vasil kept his head low, his gaze fixed to the rocky ground below him. His pained expression differed from the rest, tears threatening to spill from his eyes once more. Regardless, the group marched forward towards a pile of trenchers.


    Continuing in a line, the boys approached the countertops adorned with trenchers filled with bread and olives, although they were mostly empty. One by one, they grabbed a piece of old bread and a handful of olives and filled their respective trenchers. Walking over to their allotted table, they seated one after the other, an assortment of sixteen boys with half facing the other.


    They had all yet to start eating their food, instead, they exchanged glances that had and began to chatter. Their attention shifted to the boy with his head lowered. The noise soon clouded Vasil¡¯s ears, and he clutched his hands together tighter with every passing second.


    ¡°Kid¡­ Hey!¡± A loud and heavy voice broke through, conveying frustration behind each word. Uncharacteristically, he cautiously raised his head to face the person who had called out to him, his body jerked with anxiousness.


    The boy that had begun to converse with him slammed the table and said, ¡°You¡¯re a drag, you know that?¡± Vasil reluctantly twisted his head backwards, meeting the gaze of the boy, but he persisted regardless ¡°We can¡¯t keep redoing exercises because of you.¡± he stated impatiently.


    A subtle murmur of agreement grew among the boys with their discontent becoming increasingly evident. Vasil gazed around frantically, struggling to focus on anything. Another boy lifted himself from his seat to chime in, ¡°We¡¯re here to get stronger, not to be punished for your uselessness, moron,¡± he declared with a gruff tone.


    With his hope dwindling, Vasil turns his head to seek solace in the one person he knows among the group. However the expression on that person¡¯s face reveals nothing but disdain. His mind shattered upon becoming aware of the bitter reality that surrounded him this whole time. His stare turned blank, the light from his eyes vanished completely, leaving behind a desolate gaze.


    The murmur kept increasing in volume, the words became ever more audible. Curses and insults could be distinguished from within the group. He tried to muster a response, but the weight that he felt pressing upon his throat rendered him speechless. His thoughts became chaotic, the overwhelming verbal onslaught would cause him to be lost in the emptiness of his mind.


    The dark flame within his heart had rekindled, his aspirations and ambitions faded as he sought only one solution.


    - - -


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    The sun had set beyond the mountains, and the night had descended, the obsidian-like hue of the dark drowned out the soft green hills that encircled the stronghold. The absence of the moonlight made this an especially gloomy night.


    Every group, save one, had long since completed their training regimen and marched towards their allotted barracks. The remaining final group had finished theirs in the nick of time, choosing to forego supper in order to compensate for their additional work.


    The group that stayed behind was led by Instructor William. There were no longer ranks, instead, it was split between those who remained on their feet and those who had fallen. With the exception of one boy, all of those who had fallen due to physical strain were escorted and supported back to their barracks by their fellow comrades.


    Walking along the paved path, they arrived at their destination and in a line they descended the flight of stairs that would lead them to their room. Vasil remained last, same as before, dragging himself wearily towards the stairwell entrance. His breathing had become even more ragged, and his body bore a number of bruises and deep swelled wounds.


    His stride, however, was interrupted abruptly by the hand of the same instructor, excluding him from entering the room the same way as everyone else.


    Clearing his throat, William remarked, ¡°I require you in my quarters, Vasily.¡± His face cloaked in darkness, rendering his expression indiscernible to Vasil''s eyes. Nevertheless, Vasil dared to meet his gaze, incapable of mustering any emotion.


    The rest of the boys, drained of strength and courage, had no capacity left  to worry about this matter, so they left Vasil with the instructor and collapsed onto their beds. Meanwhile, Vasil followed the faint light emanating from William¡¯s lantern, tracing his sharp shadow. Despite that, the pounding of his own pulse resonated loudly within his eardrums, his thoughts riddled with questions concerning his impending fate.


    Following an unpleasant period of silence that made as if minutes walking stretched into dozens of more, soon enough ahead of them it became apparent a small candle light emanating from the head-quarters. They arrived at their destination, which was no different from the exterior than any other room in this fortress, consisting of three to four metre long stone walls, with the darkness of the night covering all the imperfections.


    Before them stood a roughened wooden door, its frame reinforced with metal. Staying motionless for a moment allowed William the chance to break the tense silence. ¡°Vasily¡­ it''s obvious that you are the last in terms of performance,¡± he got a grip of the door handle before he pressed on ¡°But if you proceed as I say then you won''t have to worry about that any longer.¡±


    The situation was familiar to Vasil, he had experienced it all the same before, albeit less kinder. ¡®Nothing changed¡¯ a thought echoed relentlessly in his mind. Yet it held no weight, for he had lost all will to resist.


    The smell within, was nauseating, a putrid stench tore through any remaining traces of other odours in the vicinity. Vasil, overwhelmed and appalled, flinched in astonishment as he entered, however it had no effect on William.


    ¡°Lay yourself upon the table,¡± exclaimed William as he raised his lantern, casting its dim light across a wooden surface riddled with dried blood. Vasil complied, his movements slow and reluctant.


    In the dim chamber, William dared not hesitate any longer as he loomed over the table, the light reflecting off his lips revealing the slight grin, although by this point it made no difference. His sense of pride knew no bounds. Vasil¡¯s breathing had become unsteady and his body trembled nervously.


    William laid himself upon Vasil as his eyes grew with a dark gloom. Trapped against the table, Vasil had no option but to meet his gaze, though he couldn¡¯t help but flinch and turn his head to the side


    Closing his eyes tightly, he prayed for an end to this ordeal.


    However, a sound pierced the silence. A slow rhythmic dripping.


    Curiosity consumed the fear he harboured mere moments ago, and with much resistance he opened his eyes.


    As Vasil¡¯s eyes adjusted to the dim light once more, the source of the sound became apparent: fresh blood, steadily tickling from the back of William¡¯s head, the rhythmic dripping only grew in volume. Stunned as he watched William raise his trembling hand to touch the wound, only to withdraw it, now stained in crimson.


    As William lifted his body and turned around, Vasil¡¯s instinct made him push back with his legs in a desperate attempt to flee away. However, his frantic movements only served to cause him to tumble off the table, landing on all fours with a thud, and sending a jolt of pain through his body.


    William¡¯s panicked eyes darted around the room, desperate to locate his weapon. Though before he could make a move, the attacker struck with swiftness. A single slash across his eyes was all it needed to render him defenceless, his hands instinctively clutching his wounded face, blood seeping from his eyes as a guttural cry escaped his lips.


    ¡°You like engaging with children, Sir William?¡± the familiar voice resounded in the darkness, filled with anger. As the figure approached the lantern, his appearance became evident, revealing his identity. However William remained blinded,


    ¡°Who are you!? How did you get here?¡± William¡¯s voice shaking with anguish, struggling to comprehend the situation amidst the pain.


    ¡°You wo-¡± As William¡¯s sentence cut short, it was abruptly silenced by the force of a dagger intruding down his throat. Blood gushed forth from his mouth but his voice became stifled, incapable of screaming. In his state of blindness and silence, his movements dwindled one by one until he laid on the ground, his body writhing in pain as he made futiles attempts to escape the torment.


    Vasil lifted his head to a horrid sight; fresh blood sprayed all across the room and still increasing in volume, all originating from William who now laid silent on the ground, his breathing muffled by the red tide. Above him stood a boy from Vasil¡¯s group, his gaze fixed to the ceiling exuding relief. In a quiet whisper, he uttered ¡°Oh Jnaer¡­ Thank you..¡±


    The boy¡¯s attention swiftly returned to the weakened figure on the ground, and without hesitation, he seized the opportunity to start laying down kick after kick upon him. ¡°This is for Joram, you miserable bastard!¡± he cried out with a sense of anguish and fury behind his voice. Each kick carried more power than the last, and with a final gathering of his strength, he delivered a heavy blow that sent the dagger piercing through the back of William¡¯s throat.


    Vasil could only observe in stunned silence as the gruesome scene unfolded in front of him. The overwhelming smell infused with that of blood and the scene he had just witnessed threatened to make him sick, and in an instant, he found himself vomiting. The boy, upon that moment, became aware of Vasil¡¯s presence however he remained unfazed.


    The boy¡¯s short brown hair was now coated in crimson, matching the rest of his face. He turned his blood-stained eyes towards Vasil, a faint frown creasing his mouth. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.,¡± he muttered, taking in sight of the scene one last time. Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he added  ¡°...I don¡¯t care what you do, but you can get out of here.¡± With that, he turned his attention back to the gruesome scene which had been a result of his actions, leaving Vasil to his own devices.

 Chapter 3: Inquiry

    The sun restored its position over the lush valleys, dispersing the gloom that had before plagued the night, as the morning assembly had begun. The air resonated with the resounding shouts of instructors along and the vibrating thuds of heavy footfalls, all emanating from the stone walls that belonged to the weary fortress.


    As the boys, donning their tunics, formed a line and then joined it in turn, with Vasil¡¯s group trailing behind, each member showing signs of immense fatigue. Yet, amidst the weariness that weighed upon their heads, Vasil stood out, his eyes wide open despite the evident lack of sleep. His gaze wandered, looking beyond his allied mercenaries, and staring off into the sky.


    However, his thinking wasn¡¯t as vacant as his stare suggested. ¡®Where is he?¡¯ His mind echoed with that question. He was the only one to return from the harrowing event of the previous night, and the uncertainty bore its roots in his mind, refusing to release its grip.


    Regardless, the march proceeded, with the sound of their footsteps echoing through the weathered stone walls. As they approached the underside of an overpass, they proceeded with no trouble, with the exception being Vasil. A chilly sensation was felt like water droplets trickling down his back, with the source coming from above.


    Vasil hesitated briefly, witnessing a horrid sight, standing directly before a young boy¡¯s bloodied and severed corpse. A horrifying image was imprinted into his mind; the torso bore a big sign meant to represent the word ¡®mutiny¡¯, scars marred the back, with arms missing just above the elbow, sliced in a jagged manner, and the legs twisted at inconceivable angles. Despite the disfigurement, there was similarity to the face¡¯s features with the boy from the night before.


    The boy behind him grew impatient, and with a push on Vasil¡¯s back, he spoke out with annoyance, ¡°Move it, grunt-¡± however, he was cut short.


    ¡°DON¡¯T T-TOUCH ME¡± Vasil managed to utter the words before even turning around, his voice trembling with fear. He looked at the boy with a frightened gaze, his eyes portraying disgust in every direction. Shivering, he rubbed his arms with his opposing hand in a futile attempt to seek self-comfort.


    The boy¡¯s confused look betrayed all of his emotions, but before he could react, the line began to move once more, forcing him to follow along.


    - - -


    As the march came to a halt, Vasil became ensnared in a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. The voices of the instructors once again drowned out by the tumultuous clamour emanating from his mind, obscuring his surroundings. Vivid images of the events from the previous night and the horrid aftermath were on the forefront of his mind.


    The cacophony continued to rise, and his heart became entangled in the strings of guilt, eventually concluding that he was to blame for the tragedy, further deepening the depths of his psyche. The relentless waves of self-doubts would bring his world to a halt.


    In due time, he became motionless with the noise around him fading, becoming ignorant to all distractions surrounding him, and preferring to forego thinking for the sake of serenity. Yet in spite of his attempts to shut out the world around him, he would find himself unable to ignore the shocking sensation of a hand grabbing hold of his own.


    His confusion swelled as he was forcibly dragged towards an unknown location, with his left hand strongly firmly grasped. The abductor¡¯s short black hair had made it unable for Vasil to discern his face, further heightening his apprehensive anxious state. Despite Vasil¡¯s attempts to escape the man¡¯s grip, they were soon rendered futile by his outmatching strength.


    Within moments, they traverse through a doorway that acts as the entrance to a dimly lit chamber. As they entered, Vasil was abruptly hurdled against the stone wall that stood behind them as they entered, compelling him to promptly shut his eyes tightly as a shock of pain jolted through his back.


    The accent that formerly suffused his surroundings was now replaced with a deafening quiet.


    ¡°...You will tell me.. What happened last night, now.¡± The man broke the silence with a piercing tone, his voice resounding in the empty room.


    Vasil¡¯s eyes gradually relaxed, eventually becoming unsealed. The face that laid directly in front of him was a familiar one. ¡°Reiziko..?¡± He asked, puzzled by his actions.


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    A loud bang resounded.


    The chamber reverberated with a powerful thud as Reiziko¡¯s fist collided against rough wall. Vasil shuddered, his body trembling in response. ¡°TELL ME-¡± His voice began loud, its intensity dulled slightly by a hefty breath, ¡°Tell me, what happened with Thomas..¡± His voice, now soft and sorrowful but it still carried a hint of rage.


    Vasil''s expression brimmed with confusion, ¡°...Who¡¯s Thomas?¡± he whispered with a lack of confidence. The chamber became quiet once more.


    Reiziko interrupted the stillness once again and with gritted teeth he frustratingly remarked, ¡°THOMAS.. He was within our group¡­¡± He paused briefly to gather his thoughts and slowly pressed on ¡°Last night, after William inquired you.. He chased after-¡±


    Reiziko¡¯s sentence was cut short as his remarks roused the vivid imagery that had left an imprint in Vasil¡¯s mind. His stare harborbed a new terrible complexity, and his eyes became devoid of any glimmer. He then spoke, his voice carrying a sinister tone ¡°Thomas¡­ Yes, I r-remember that fellow¡­¡± he paused briefly, and laid down on his bum ¡°H-he saved me, really¡­ or rather I killed him¡­¡±


    Reiziko¡¯s eyes widen with shock, unable to grasp the words that were spoken directly in front of him before Vasil spoke again.


    ¡°I mean.. If only I wasn¡¯t so weak¡­¡± he clamped his lips tight and said, ¡°I¡¯d-d be the one hanging right now, huh?¡±


    He had finished speaking with Reiziko remaining motionless after hearing those words. Vasil abruptly let out a discreet sniffle which quickly grew into an endless stream of tears.


    Reiziko observed, having grasped the bare minimum, but deeply he knew that Vasil was not to blame. He clenched his fist but his grip started to loosen as soon as his anger dissipated. He let out a big breath and spoke, ¡°Listen Vasil..¡± the solitary walls that surrounded them made his next words heavier upon his soul. ¡°I.. knew Thomas and knew that he probably caused his own doom¡­¡±


    Vasil lifted his head from his cramped position listening intently to Reiziko¡¯s words. The light bouncing off the crevices in the walls revealed bloodshot red eyes that were the result of his tears. Reiziko''s face was illuminated by the morning sun rising from the doorframe as he held an open hand in front of him.


    ¡°Whatever may have happened¡­ Your inability is not at fault.¡± His face contrasted vividly against the dark room, yet despite this, Vasil¡¯s gaze remained fixed on the person standing behind Reiziko. A beautiful young maiden dressed in a brilliant white chiffon that complemented her slim figure; her curly blonde hair stood at shoulder¡¯s length but in a cruel twist, the shadows obscured her face.


    When he blinked, the figure disappeared, confusion took over him and yet he paid no heed as there were more pressing matters. Reiziko remained on the verge of reverting his offer before Vasil reached outwardly to grab his open hand.


    Reiziko studied the young frail boy as he lifted him up, attempting to comprehend the rationale behind Thomas¡¯ reckless behaviour, his heart harbouring the same quiet rage he felt mere seconds before. Nonetheless, his calm demeanour was maintained intact in front of the tormented boy.


    ¡°Vasil¡­ I need you to tell me everything that transpired last night.¡± His voice was tinged with aimless wrath.


    - - -


    Another day of training pursues and the same troubles persist. Once again, the boys fall in line. Standing shoulder to shoulder, the difference in physique became apparent between them and Vasil. His frail body will make for another day of tortuous training.


    The group''s hierarchy had cemented, and Vasil''s place had been determined to be near last, yet in spite of that, his anxieties appeared to ease slightly. His usual pale visage had been replaced with brilliance in contrast to his grim surroundings. After shedding the burden of seclusion, his spirit yearns to aid his ally, even in the most menial activity.


    ¡°Attentiiiion!¡± roared the man, clad in full plated armour save for a helm, addressing the gathering. ¡°From today and onwards, I- Gethin Farson, shall be your new general instructor.¡±


    The man, whose blonde hair swayed with the wind, stood proudly before the group. Regardless, the boys were preoccupied with a more dire matter. Murmurs arose from within the ranks, all centred on William¡¯s absence and Thomas¡¯ mutiny.


    There were several names spoken in the chatter, but one jumped out to Vasil: his own. After all, William''s final inquiry from the previous night was directed at him. But Vasil kept his ground against the rising tension for as long as it held.


    "Silence!" Gethin exclaimed loudly, slamming a wooden stick into the ground with a crash. "I will have no one speak without permission!"


    The gathering went silent once more, the eeriness of today¡¯s happenings would have to permeate in their minds for a while longer. Still, their tasks beckoned, and their training required to begin.


    ¡°We shall commence with sword training.¡± Proclaimed the persistent instructor, determined not to squander another second. ¡°Everyone behind me.¡±

 Chapter 4: A Sword Match

    Grunts and the thuds of wood smashing against each other resonated from within the fortress¡¯ inner courtyard, with the sun¡¯s rays obstructing any direct visibility into the courtyard and yet the ongoings were clear.


    It were only mere moments since the sword arts commenced but the participants¡¯ dreadful state would guise it under the pretence of at least a single hour''s worth of training. While some fared better than the others, none would be able to withstand the full width of the session.


    With the merciless instructors trading blows in duels against each individual boy, they stood with zero chance of success pitting the bodies of underdeveloped fighters against full fledged adults. And yet, each boy tried in fear and failed to no avail. It was not a mere test of skill, it had proved to stand as one of endurance.


    Eventually, Vasil¡¯s turn to duel arrived.


    With quivering hands, he lifted his waster, pointed up towards the clear sky, eventually coming to face against the prideful Instructor Gethin, his face indiscernible through his iron helm which accompanied his gothic style armour. Vasil cast a wide-eyed gaze, revealing his lack of concentration, while in truth his mind raced, attempting to recall any and all his past training.


    His efforts were swiftly rendered futile by Gethin¡¯s approaching longsword. Regardless of his abilities, it was apparent that the overhead swing which he had performed would leave even Vasil enough room to escape it by a hair, with falling to the ground as a result.


    ¡°Lift your spatha, boy!¡± Gethin¡¯s shout resounded through the crowd in spite of the constant clummer of swords and clashes. ¡°Do you bear no desire to live?!¡±


    Those remarks rang deeply into Vasil¡¯s psyche; it had been true that he had paid little attention to his own life. To this point, each day had been stacked with more torment. Growing accustomed to his hellish surroundings caused him to lose sight of a brighter future, and it was only through Gethin''s words and Reiziko''s perspectives that he was able to regain it.


    The new instructor¡¯s words bore a foundation of care for the children, one that was in stark contrast to William¡¯s uninterested and callous approach. The lure of a new way of life brought motivation.


    Vasil supported himself with the waster. Standing up, he changed his grasp, and despite his weak arms, his grip on the hilt of the wooden sword got firmer. A change took place in his subconscious that had planted its roots since the beginning of his life in the fortress. This new perspective enabled him to make more extensive observations of his opponents, which came as a result of his previous torturous training.


    But the outcome of the battle would be evident: one misstep and he would lose his precious life by the double-edged bladed sword that was firmly held in Gethin¡¯s hands and no padded tunic would be able to stop it. His armour permitted no stumbling sword to penetrate it; fortunately, his armament did not include a blade but rather a blunt instrument.


    Despite the opportunity he uncovered, he remained crippled by his inadequate strength; his alternatives were not just restricted, but nonexistent. In the end, the only question was how long he would be standing.


    He stood there, with his shaky waster in hand, expecting to be cut down.


    Gethin observed the boy, the same as he did to him, and in a twist he threw his longsword to the side, the sound of metal hitting the ground echoed. Chatter broke out from among the crowd, as if in response to the instructor''s unusual antics. In return, Gethin answered to the gathering¡¯s pleas with a simple statement issued in a calm tone: ¡°It would be a disservice to the company to let young soldiers die.¡±


    He quickly adjusted his stance to accommodate unarmed fighting, bending his knees to meet his opponent head on. Vasil felt a feeling of relief wash over him as he witnessed the change. He exhaled deeply and tightened his grip on his wooden sword. With newfound confidence, he tackled his previous approach.


    His expertise with the sword was limited, but during the length of his stay, several fundamental ideas that were drilled into his subconscious by innumerable prior tries and observations.


    Vasil stepped forward to close the distance with the opposing instructor, preparing a standard over the shoulder swing, with the knowledge that it would be unable to inflict any serious injury unless it carried the full power of his weight and might.


    As he proceeded to carry out his assault, a cold sweat ran down his back. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward with his right leg, lifting his rough weapon above his shoulder at head height with both hands.


    The sword approached Gethin at a steady rate, and rather than evading it, he chose to stride forward with his left leg while keeping low, meeting it halfway. He raised his right hand and with his reinforced forearm calmly parried the oncoming swing, dissipating the force of the impact in one swift movement.


    The parry opened Vasil¡¯s guard, giving him little time to react. Gethin grappled him with his right arm by neck, and performing a quick throw, he flung him to the ground with considerable force. A sharp ache shot through his spine, barely somewhat alleviated by the cushioned tunic he was wearing and the soft ground, causing him to cough in misery.


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    Even as he lay on the ground, battered and bruised, Vasil''s spirit remained unbroken. I have to not drag them down.., he thought defiantly, forcing himself to rise once more.


    Gethin raised himself up after the whole ordeal concluded, his expression behind the helm remained indifferent, leaving Vasil to writhe in agony on the grass. He turned his head towards the gathering and began to yell, ¡°Make a line everyone, I need the nex-¡±


    His demand was cut short by the slight sound of thud hitting against the ground that resounded near his surroundings. Gethin turned around to witness Vasil pitting his wooden sword into the ground, hoisting himself up once more.


    With swollen cheeks and grit in his blonde curly hair, he said in a louder tone than his voice could handle, ¡°I a-am not down yet.¡± He''d look down at the teacher through his iron helm, determined. Still remaining unable to discern the face of his new instructor, he had begun to worry.


    His concerns were quickly put to rest by Gethin¡¯s excited remarks, ¡°I can see that you speak the truth!¡± He lifted his arms in the air, filled with enthusiasm. ¡°Well then, fight for as long as you are able!¡±


    Vasil grasped the wooden sword in his hands again, holding it with both and placing the right one in front of the left, this time devoid of any tremor. He stepped forward, unwavering in his intentions, putting his whole soul into each swing.


    But as it would stand, his simplistic strikes were too wide and predictable, failing in all of his attempts to flow with the heavier-than-usual wooden sword and allowing Gethin to easily parry each attack.


    Exhausted, he performs a desperate lunge at the instructor in a sluggish manner. His strength became, his strike feeble enough to be caught midswing.


    He yanked the fatigued boy closer to him, causing him to stumble with an open back. In one rapid stroke, he drove his elbow on the boy¡¯s back, sending shockwaves down his spine once more. It was clear that this blow was less compassionate compared to the previous ones, serving as a mark to the end of the session.


    ¡°I admire your resilience boy-¡± Gethin remarked as he removed his iron helmet from his head, revealing his sweat drenched blonde hair and his calm expression, pausing only to correct himself ¡°No¡­ Vasil, but you severely lack the necessary amount of knowledge to¡­¡± His words faded from his tongue as the spectacle of Vasil¡¯s resilience shone once again.


    As Vasil struggled against the forces compelling him to lay on the ground, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions raged within him. I can''t fail... not now, he thought desperately, his muscles burning with fatigue.


    The volatile young man lifted himself one last time; the time had arrived for his final stand against a purely defensive foe. He extended his left leg, dragging the waster around by the hilt, preparing to strike once more with all his might. However his gaze wasn¡¯t directed at the instructor, it appeared to be cast on the person making a brief appearance behind Gethin.


    There she stood, the same beautiful young maiden that dressed in a brilliant white chiffon that complemented her slim figure; her curly blonde hair stood at shoulder¡¯s length but in a cruel twist, the shadows obscured her face.


    It would only take a blink for her to vanish again, and that short period, along with the waves of tiredness that struck Vasil would be insufficient to raise questions.


    He nauseously raised his wooden blade, whirling it from side to side, and with a heavy dash he rushed his opponent. In preparation, Gethin put his arm out to stop the same swing he had blocked so many times before, which laid the groundwork for a deadly blunder.


    For the first time in his series of movements, Vasil heads for the faster side swing instead of the standard overhead strike which he had abused so many times before. Of course his power would be massively subset by his fatigue.


    That¡¯s when at the peak of the side swing, the freeing feeling of being carried forward from behind by a gentle push propelled him forward, increasing the tension in his mind and sharpening his senses in spite of his exhaustion. The unknown force that provided this sensation would make the swing that much greater.


    The next moment his mind along with his increased senses activated an exhilarating feeling that had been kept dormant in the darkest reaches of his mind. His feet felt firm and planted to the ground, the surroundings became clear and he could feel even the tiniest of changes in air pressure.


    His previously bright blue eyes went bloodshot and his swing accelerated with such speed that it reached the point of being barely able to respond to it. Along with the case that for Gethin this was unpredictable behaviour, it truly stood as a surefire hit.


    Vasil¡¯s mind bore no thoughts; the only thing he was capable of processing at that moment was the motion of his swing. His vision blurred at the intensity of the moment.


    As the waster fast approached Gethin, it truly became an unstoppable weapon. In anticipation of the strike, he brought his left arm near to his face and used it as a shield to absorb part of the impact.


    As the wooden blade collided with the metal plates from Gethin''s armour''s vambrace, the wood continued to shatter into tiny fragments with each passing moment. The vambrace withstood the impact of the waster but not without damage. The armour bent inwards causing a small cut on the instructor¡¯s forearm.


    Vasil''s fatigue overcame him once more, the last blow solidifying his loss. Falling to his knees with the remaining hilt of the sword in his grasp, his face soon descended on the soft grass ground.


    The impact of the duel reverberated throughout, yet the audience remained hushed, still it remained obvious that it would transform into the talk of the group for quite a while.


    Gethin¡¯s gaze remained fixed on his arm, until it became time to announce the results. ¡°V-Vasil landed a hit¡­ He passed.¡± With a shaky voice, he announced towards the boys. The crowd silently cheered, finally freed from the burden of doing extended torturous work.

 Chapter 5: A Calling

    Chants, cries, and footsteps resonated throughout the enormous and empty mess hall as the time for supper approached. The clummer became louder as it inched ever closer to the food court.


    The source of voices and the footsteps finally revealed itself from the hallway. The collected group of boys, battered, fatigued, and restless, were all too eager to be the first to have lunch as a change of pace. They dashed along the hallways, craving to reach the end of them.


    ¡°Praise to the Killer Grunt!¡± They chanted, careless of their volume. ¡°Hooray for lunch!¡±


    The challenges that remained after supper were minimal, as were their concerns. An early lunch meant a day of rest, which was the best possible reward for Vasil''s group. His efforts had paid off, but now he found himself in another peculiar situation upon reaching the mess hall.


    Vasil quietly distanced himself from the main gathering as they remained behind celebrating and dancing. As he struggled to get a grasp of his current position, he started debating his situation. Were they always this foolish..? He thought, bearing a confused expression. He strode forward, not giving it a second thought.


    The typical lineups vanished, leaving just free space. The emptiness of the mess hall and the radiant natural light shining through the apertures on the wall provided a tranquil mood in contrast to the overbearing feeling created by the overcrowded number of groups that congregated in the afternoon.


    To his right was an old wooden table and on top of it laid piles of trenchers. Vasil took a clean trencher from the top and returned to get his supper. Compared to previous days, the food collection appeared to be more diverse, spanning from various kinds of meats to a broad variety of fruits and vegetables.


    Eager to eat proper for the first time, everybody followed soon after.


    With smiles and grins on their faces, the boys eventually sat down to enjoy their well-deserved meal. Vasil sat in the corner of the table, his trencher in front of him, peacefully eating his meal of choice, which included various meats. He kept himself separated from the main gathering.


    Reminiscing about past incidents, despite his understanding, he appeared reluctant to connect with those who had previously berated him.


    He thought long and hard about all that had happened so far. Thomas truly saved my life, he arrived at that logical conclusion. Vasil''s fate would remain unknown if Thomas had not intervened. Perhaps if his drive to get stronger had been suppressed, the group''s actions would have been more severe.


    His train of thought was disrupted as another individual took a seat to his right. He raised his head and cast his gaze at the person¡¯s direction. His face turned to a grin and he spoke with a lighter voice, ¡°Oh hey Reiziko.¡±


    Sitting side by side, Reiziko¡¯s figure stood out in stark contrast with Vasil¡¯s, both in terms of height and physical prowess. He stood at around ten to twenty centimetres taller and had a broader frame.


    However, that didn¡¯t stand in the way of their conversation.


    ¡°Hey, Vasil.¡± He paused to take in his surroundings before asking, ¡°Enjoying the food?¡± He inquired jokingly.


    Vasil paused their chat to think about the question before responding. ¡°Yeah¡­¡± he hesitated, feeling a weight on his heart as he spoke. ¡°But I don¡¯t know if I can maintain my performance¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, it doesn''t really matter anymore.¡± He said casually, and then added ¡°The bar has been raised. You must be able to keep up with us.¡± His tone changed drastically to emphasise the gravity of the situation.


    Vasil¡¯s eyes widened in hearing this sombre reminder; he knew his fate and worth was entirely dependent on his performance. Causing another mishap would abolish the trust he had built with the group up to this point, and abhorrent drastic actions may be taken by them. He was aware of that.


    Reiziko looked at the concerned Vasil and casually asked, ¡°Wanna train?¡±


    - -  -


    Vasil and Reiziko returned to their training area, the inner courtyard. In opposition to most groups, they decide to make the most of their additional free time and train additionally.


    They return to the small open area of grass, which had been surrounded by stone walls and riddled with leftover training equipment, and prepare to begin their training.


    ¡°Wait here,¡± spoke Reiziko, stepping away from Vasil. ¡°I''ll bring something.¡± He said while starting a run in the opposite direction of him.


    Vasil did as such. Waiting patiently, he finally had the opportunity to observe his surroundings outside of the typical harsh training that consumed the most of his focus.


    Observing the lush nature of the fortress¡¯ worn stone brick walls and feeling the softness of the grass brought on a peaceful atmosphere. The silence occurring from a lack of people only worked to emphasise the sense of tranquillity.


    Closing his eyes, he took a deep cleansing sigh, with a protruding smell of grass covering his senses. After recalling such peace, he wished for more chances to relive it.


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    Before long, Reiziko had returned in a sprint. With both hands he grasped a lengthy wooden sword, knotted with hefty stones. Upon Vasil realising his arrival, he strides forward towards him to meet halfway.


    He observed the sword in Reiziko¡¯s hands and his face contracted into a slight frown. I really hope we are not sparring with these¡­ he thought reluctantly. Standing under the busking sun, practising the sword was not his forte.


    Reiziko noticed the appearance of the anxious boy and exclaimed "Here you go!" before dropping the hefty wooden sword upon his frail arms. He makes a failed attempt to raise it from the hilt. But the force of the sword and the weight of it nearly dragged Vasil to the floor, with him hardly being capable of lifting it up.


    His face takes on a bright red as he attempts to arm the sword in position, ultimately giving up and leaving the tip to rest on the soil. In an irritated tone, he asked, ¡°And¡­ what is this for?¡±


    Reiziko pays no attention to Vasil''s query and fixes his attention on the sun. Placing his hand above his eyes, giving him enough shade to be able to discern its location before turning his gaze back to the ground. He lifted his head and studied his lush surroundings till he came upon the shade of a lonely tree.


    He pointed to it and said, ¡°Do you see it?¡± He waited till Vasil''s gaze hit the tree. ¡°You''re going to swing that sword until the shadow of that tree reaches half its length.¡±


    Vasil remains in wonder before attempting to lift the blade again. With a grimace that revealed how futile his attempts were, he casually remarked, ¡°Yeah, there''s no way.¡± His small frame and weak physique wouldn¡¯t simply allow him.


    With a small grimace on his face, Reiziko could only present one solution: ¡°Well, I think until you''re able, you should just mimic to swing it.¡±


    Vasil stared at the sword once more before exhaling a hefty sigh and gently dragging it by the hilt approaching the tree that stood forlorn in the patches of grass. He carefully measured the height of the shadow and marked the midway point with his palm.


    ¡°So I just have to lift this sword until the tree¡¯s shadow reaches here?¡± He asked, seemingly exhausted by the sheer prospect of it.


    Reiziko nodded in affirmation.


    He sat and thought, reminding himself of the hurdle that is the blade¡¯s weight. If this means I don¡¯t get pushed around anymore¡­ Reminded of his purpose, with a reinvented vigour, he took upon himself to tackle the challenge.


    -  -  -


    Vasil''s face was drenched in sweat, having made no progress in his attempt to raise the heavy wooden sword he had been given. He nearly hurled the blade on the ground, his wrath boiling over.


    ¡°And in what way does this benefit me exactly?!¡± He questioned, annoyed by his inability to raise the awkwardly heavy blade. His question directed to Reiziko, who calmly laid on his side while on the grass floor, his head supported by his hand.


    He threw a lethargic look at Vasil before responding to his query, ¡°Well, swords often weigh half as much.¡± Leaving space between his remarks, he gathers his thoughts and says, ¡°It would benefit you if you could carry larger swords easily for crowd control, and it''s also good for strength training.¡±


    His response resonated true in Vasil''s ears, making it even more irritating. He looked back at the sword with a frown and made another frantic attempt to raise it. Planting his feet firmly to the ground, he raised the hilt with all his power, his forearm muscles tensing up at the attempted motion. But it remained as another fruitless struggle.


    Panting frantically, he loosened his arms slightly, enabling himself to regain some composure before making another try. Once again, he cast his gaze at the wooden practice sword and then at Reiziko, a question that permeated in his mind desired to be addressed.


    ¡°Reiziko¡­ I have something to ask.¡± He muttered gently, but still managed to get Reiziko''s attention.


    He responded with an indifferent tone, ¡°Hm? What''s up?¡±


    He pauses to gather his thoughts before inquiring with a heavy tone, ¡°Why have you been kind to me?¡± He waited for his response, still short-winded from the nigh impossible training.


    Finally, he spoke his answer to Vasil¡¯s question, approaching with a more serious tone of voice, ¡°You and I both know the horror and the injustice of this fortress.¡± Reminding himself of the loss of his erstwhile ally, he continues, ¡°The others aren''t too keen on revolting, and it''s not their fault. But I can tell that you come from a worse place otherwise you would have long ended your life by now.¡± His body moved to a sitting position.


    Vasil nods in total agreement with Reiziko''s allegations, but refrains from recalling his life before entering the fortress for the fortress. Even if it wasn¡¯t for long, I would rather not recall that place¡­ He thought to himself, with glimpses of his horrid memories showing through, his face betraying all his emotions.


    A blighted place, without wealth, with children being harmed on a daily basis, powerless to stop savages¡¯ dirty hands. Molestation was commonplace for women and children in that forsaken land.


    Reiziko continued, interrupting Vasil¡¯s disturbing train of thought, ¡°I don¡¯t want anybody to hurt anymore.¡± He lifted himself up and proclaimed, ¡°I don¡¯t think I can handle anybody else ending up like Joram or Thomas¡­¡± His face expressed a rageful grimace.


    ¡°It is only through us, the ones that bore witness to the darkest pits of hell and survived, that we can bring light to this fortress.¡± Reiziko''s straightforward remarks echoed in Vasil''s mind, allowing room for a deep reflection. He bore no particular interest for those surrounding him yet he desired to grow his own neglected ability.


    Regardless of his thoughts, he couldn''t stop Reiziko''s ideology from seeping into his own. Perhaps their convoluted paths crossed in some manner, and he held a deep belief that via Reiziko he would be able to discern a clear path to true strength, one free of unnecessary hatred.


    After a lengthy stretch of stillness, Vasil interrupted with, ¡°So?¡± He spoke carelessly before asking, ¡°What is your next step towards your revolt?¡±


    Reiziko observed the tree¡¯s looming shadow, its peak shrank to the dugout mark. Midday was approaching and the training trials were about to begin once more. With that incentive, Reiziko declared with a stretch, ¡°Well first, let¡¯s get back to group training-¡±


    His proclamation was cut short by the rustle of bushes from a neglected area of the courtyard.

 Chapter 6: A Batch Of Memories

    The rustling shrubs quickly cut off Reiziko''s rational comment. When they realised the enormity of their predicament, their bodies froze still, becoming motionless. While Vasil stared in dismay, Reiziko opted to approach the bushes.


    He raised his hand to Vasil, signalling for him to linger still for a few moments. His gradual and calculated steps barely raise a sound touching on the soft grass. His approach to the shrubs was imminent.


    Touching the twigs that sprang from the main bush, he revealed all that might have been hidden behind the shrubs in one fast movement, only to be confronted with empty space. He scanned around the back of the bush for a few long moments before raising his head to see the offender running uphill towards the opposite direction.


    Reiziko¡¯s gaze locked in at the boy who had caught wind of their plans, his legs muscles tensed up as he initiated a powerful sprint. He was moving at such a fast clip that it wouldn''t take him long to surpass the speed of the running culprit.


    At the apex of his run, he crashed into the tall, stocky lad with tight brown hair who was assumed to have heard their conversation moments prior. Fallen on the hard dirt ground, the two boys were entangled and in a source of excruciating agony. Reiziko, however, had the upper hand in this encounter. By placing himself on the young whistleblower''s tunic, he was able to turn the position into a hold.


    The boy screamed in agony, "Wait! "Waiiit!" directing Reiziko''s agitated gaze toward himself. Keeping a watchful eye on the terrified boy, he noticed some features that appeared familiar. Suddenly, his face perked up and cleared of the previously induced frenzy.


    With a sombre and perplexed tone, Reiziko inquired, ¡°Kajin?¡± At that moment, he let go of any grip he had and fell to the ground beside him. His body released from the tension it held before.


    ¡°Yes Rei! It¡¯s me!¡± The boy calmed his breathing, trying to quiet his temper. They both stayed on the ground, drained of breath. The strained sense of heightened tension seemed to have fainted away at the unprecedented meeting of another familiar face.


    - - -


    It was now that a trio went side by side across the open halls, reaching for the assemblage. The sounds of moving feet smacking on stone slabs were the only noises that obstructed the silence. Vasil stood behind the two boys that towered over him, disturbed by his thoughts.


    I don¡¯t know who this guy is but he mustn¡¯t heard much¡­ He bit his nail in anticipation; the outcome of this interaction beyond the scope of his thinking. He could only hope in Reiziko¡¯s bond with that boy to be a solid one.


    On par with his thoughts, Reiziko took his turn to speak, ¡°Hey Kajin¡­ Sorry about that.¡± He murmured, stopping in his sentence with a hint of dread. ¡°I really thought you were a whistleblower.¡± He bore not a care behind his choice of words.


    ¡°Yeah, haha¡­ Tried to make it seem that way.¡± Remarked the tall boy with a confident expression spoke and it followed an awkward laugh.


    However, unexpectedly, Kajin broke the natural pace of the conversation and spoke of a much darker topic. ¡°You saw Thomas?¡± He asked, the arrhythmic pattern of Reiziko¡¯s steps betraying the heavy weight those words placed on his thoughts, yet he responded.


    ¡°I seen how those bastards treated him¡­¡± He clenched his hand in rage and spoke through harsh teeth. Despite already being aware of Reiziko¡¯s feelings, Vasil felt out of place being witness to their conversation. Kajin dared ensue this subject, his sense of companionship compelling him to seek solace in others.


    ¡°I understand we share the same sentiment¡­¡± He expressed non-discreetly while trying to convey his message to the best of his ability. Although quiet, it was realised that they both shared the same wrath.


    After a brief pause, Kajin''s frown softened into a tiny grin as he prepared to speak his mind, adding, "Hey, remember the mercenary market?" Reiziko¡¯s face lights up, reminiscing about fond memories.


    ¡°Yeah, when he got in trouble with a merchant.¡± Reiziko chuckled at the thought before he ensued, ¡°It was a sunny day, like this¡­ It was me, you, Thomas and Phillip who were assigned with Ashon.¡± He spoke, Vasil remaining clueless about the identity of the aforementioned people.


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    Kajin took his turn to speak, bouncing off of Reiziko¡¯s statement. ¡°I remember how they kept avoiding him because he was a pyro.¡± Kajin chuckled as well, ¡°He went and started beef with a merchant complaining about quality pyros!¡± He said with an exasperated tone.


    ¡°Yeah and turned out it was Lord Ulysses!¡± Shouted Reiziko, bursting into a fit of laughter shortly after, and grasping Kajin¡¯s shoulder as they shakily marched forwards. Kajin¡¯s and Reiziko¡¯s story left Vasil underwhelmed, unable to grasp its essence. ¡°He was whooped for days!¡± After Kajin''s final remark on the memories, both lads laughed hysterically together, disguising the grief.


    They patted each other on the back, reaching a sense of serene calmness, the blissful scenery only reimbursing the feeling. The chirping of birds rang around the courtyard, the wind whistled as it flowed through the crevices of the weathered walls and the light gleamed dimly through the wide gaps of the stone pillars.


    Soon, the susurrations of a throng resounded through the wooden door that lay in front of them, allowing access to the grand hall. Abating the speed of his movements, Kajin turned his head to face the one that strode behind them this whole time.


    ¡°So¡­ You are the grunt I heard about?¡± Despite the earlier occasions in which those same words were spoken with malicious intents, this incident sounded innocent and playful as it flowed with the happy tone that had been established prior. Kajin¡¯s manner of speech was relatively livelier and friendlier opposed to Reiziko¡¯s cold-hearted and straight forward speaking.


    Vasil raised his head to meet the taller brown-haired boy¡¯s gaze, with slight hesitation and his voice softly sounding through, he answered. ¡°Y-yes, that¡¯s me..¡±


    Kajin prepared an invitation and then asked with a spacious grin, ¡°What do you say? Shall we rid corruption together with Reiziko?¡± The three of them took up the pace again, giving Vasil barely enough time to dwell on the question before striding forward once more and opening the door.


    The commotion surged through the entryway, signalling the start of the afternoon trials.


    - - -


    The uproar had subsided with only quiet murmurs breaching the silence. The moment arrived for each group to head to their allotted training and for Vasil and Reiziko¡¯s cohort, it had been their turn to practise in martial arts. Before they began their march, the strange new instructor in charge of their martial arts training addressed his group.


    ¡°All pyromancers, please attend Lady Inga Fairclough¡¯s training on Church of Ignis Initiate barehanded movements.¡± The young mercenaries understood their job flawlessly thanks to his clear and deep voice, which was complemented by his healthy look and graceful gambeson. From there, only a small group of three separated to join the main cohort of pyromancers, taking care in being discreet.


    Vasil could observe the remainder of the pyromancers from the corner of his eye. None of them stuck out until his sight fell upon a tall boy with short brown hair and a stocky build.


    Kajin is a pyromancer..? Having been left in a state of shock, he could only imagine what ramifications this had for the group''s dynamics. It seemed reasonable to consider Kajin¡¯s and Thomas¡¯ relationship to be close.


    He couldn¡¯t spare another moment to dwell on that fact; the footsteps of the gathering signalled the beginning of the march towards the inner training room. He yearned to reveal his own true power via this training, granted that any free time he had to prepare was spent on sword practise.


    The cohort, headed by the new proud teacher, made their way through the convoluted halls to their desired destination: the inner training room. It was long and broad enough to accommodate many activities simultaneously and its towering ceiling gave ample breathing area and ventilation. The majority of the centre of the room curved a step down from the edges, dividing the spectators to observe from the edges and the trainees to exercise their skills on the dug-out platform.


    Each young boy lined up next to each other, as was customary, except this time it was regardless of size or ability. With their shoulders in close proximity, they kept motionless, awaiting for the next instruction.


    The eerie silence raised the tension, prompting cold feet in many. However, it were soon to be disrupted by the blaring shouts of the instructor.


    ¡°Attention! I will be your tutor when it comes to Fior di Battaglia, at least for the foreseeable future.¡± While his words were emphatic, they lacked emotional depth, causing a sense of dread among the students. Yet, he didn¡¯t let it simmer for long before he added ¡°I am Sir Victor Barstow and I served in various academies for young scholars and aristocrats.¡±


    His words sounded all the more distressing as he continued to expand his own lecture. ¡°As such you will address me as Sire.¡± He remarked, ending his speech on a solemn note.


    ¡°Yes Sire!¡± expressed the gathering in unison, remaining stern in opposition with the instructor. His brown beard and knotted hair seldomly moved along with his head, as he kept expressing his brief melancholy through his body language. ¡°Why did the royal guard have to assign me to a lowly mercenary company¡­?¡± He quietly whispered in despair.

 Chapter 7: Firemancers’ Recite

    Noon hadn¡¯t passed before long, each group guided by their personal teacher to accommodate for varied forms of training. Some were escorted outside into the courtyard, while others were taken to the fortress''s interior rooms. None were more eclectic than the pyromancer division, which was made up of individuals from several groups and headed by a single instructor, Lady Igna Fairclough.


    A long line formed behind her, all made up of young pyromancers. Kajin walked quietly and solemnly, belonging in the middle of the ranks and blending in without a fault. His body lacked the usual confidence he often exuded among others, yet he persisted, following his leader.


    The gathering headed by Lady Igna was shortly to break from the darkness of the inner hallways, travelling to the outside; their route was marked coherent by the lush gravel path that lay before them, walking between the sites that had remained as training grounds for various purposes.


    They were soon to pass through the gate as the young mercenaries patiently trailed behind, their route marked with familiarity. They were brought outside of the old fortress walls and soon having strolled up a verdant hill. The surroundings infested with plant life and veiled with the shade by the sizable trees, the trodden path they followed scarcely evident.


    Through dense foliage of the forest emerged a serene temple accommodated by the occasional call of birds and the sound of rustling leaves. The air remained refreshing and cool, carrying with it the smell of pine trees. As the seasons changed, the temple''s stone terrace became covered with golden brown maple leaves, the wind assisting in carrying it through.


    The towering temple loomed tall, its sloping roof adorned with intricate wood carvings faded due to time. The centrepiece of the patio was a four-metre-tall statue of a man with a toned body, as evidenced by the statue''s exquisite carvings. The statue is dressed in a stunning red-painted stone gown, and its chiselled face contorted yet with a slight grin. Its final distinct feature being its interlaced arms, which accentuated its proud stance.


    The quietness of nature that had once muffled out the sounds of the stronghold, is once again broken by the voice of the leading instructor. ¡°Prepare for the prayer ceremony.¡± Her voice sounded soft and melodic, barely breaking the rhythmic quiet of the woods and yet it carried a sense of obligation and responsibility, hinting at the boy¡¯s sense of urgency.


    They walked in front of the monument and kneeled down, as if part of a routine. The monument loomed over the young pyromancers, casting its bloated gaze and causing a sense of uneasiness between them. Unanticipatedly, Lady Igna kneeled behind her students, her armour revealing her relaxed look as her long brown hair just touched the plates on her shoulders.


    The adolescent and the teacher clasped their hands together in prayer in a calm, coordinated manner, with their gestures staying silent. A murmur arose from the cohort and in unison they repeated the following words.


    ¡°O Great Valtivar S¨®l, provide thy warming grace, that our souls may be enkindled with righteous fury. In thy name, we smite the forsaken with thy Vel. Finding solace as thy loyal progeny. With steadfast pride, we dedicate our lives to thy sacred cause.¡± A brief break in their recital gave the group space to breathe.


    "O Mighty Hime Ignis, from whose voracious flames we draw our strength. We lay waste to the accursed, engulfing them in a fiery torrent, offering them as sacrifice in thy name. Through thy blood, we spread thy dominion, returning to the divine realm in triumphant ascension." The cohort concerted, with great effort behind their words, they managed to chant the final piece to the prayer. The statue remained unfazed by their words, ever still.


    Lady Igna is first to raise herself up, then the rest soon follow. In a quick pivot, the entire gathering turned in opposition to the motionless statue to face their instructor, patiently awaiting her next command.


    Finally, she spoke her instructions. ¡°Clear the area. Ensure that no leaves remain in the yard.¡± And with the utterance of these words, the boys started their work.


    - - -


    The cohort had been divided into two lines, each with around six members and facing opposition from the other line. The statue laid at the back-centre of their formation, visible from between the lines. The gathering sat still, calmly waiting.


    Igna slowly walked in sight of the young pyromancers, each of her assertive steps echoing loudly in the minds of the participants. Her soft round face contorted as her lips opened, ¡°Attention, young pyros.¡± She uttered, putting a spotlight on herself. ¡°We will be practising sparking, so prepare yourselves.¡±


    She cast a critical eye on her students, yet their focus remained unbroken and unaffected. Under the rhythm of her breath, she muttered, ¡°Hm, good.¡± Not loud enough to be noticed. And in cadenced fashion, she added on to her previous statement. ¡°Since you barely make for Initiate level, that¡¯s the only technique that¡¯s required of you to learn.¡±


    Igna proceeded to lift her right hand, swiftly removing its steel gauntlet with the other. Her hand contrasted darker than the rest of her skin, especially the palm, it took on a crimson colour that blended with the skin at the forearm. She opened her palm in opposition to the heavens, allowing everyone to gaze at it. Her face slightly distorted again, this time with concentration. Her fingertips glowed with warmth and brilliance, a melodious crackling emerged from the centre of her hand.


    Stunning sparks flashed out of thin air and through her fingers, as if they had been orchestrated in a joyous manner. In contrast to what was occurring on her hand, Igna showed no signs of suffering. Everyone peered in awe at the sight they had bore witness to, their minds filled with wonder and intrigue which served as a great contradiction to Lady Igna¡¯s empty and desolate gaze.


    ¡°This will be your goal to reach by the end of today.¡± She remarked in a light tone, before closing her right palm, and with it the sparks stopped their dance. The boys¡¯ heads were suddenly brimming with questions, yet none of them would be answered anytime soon because the pressing subject of sparking was their first concern.


    Before they were able to show any movements, Lady Igna began speaking her enlightening instructions. ¡°Attention everyone. I will require you to raise your right hand, right this instant.¡± Her words sounded tough and demanding, yet her voice gave a ting of compassion.


    And so, each side lifted their right arm, in the manner that she had previously demonstrated. She returned to casting her keen look on her students, keeping a close eye on them.


    With her hand remaining exposed, she once again repeated her previous set of movements. Casting an open palm to the heavens, her fingers had regained their brilliance and warmth. In contrast to earlier, she executed her manoeuvres faster, the sound of sparkling barely breaching the ears of the bystanders before ignition.


    Instead of the peaceful sparkles on her hand, a full-fledged flame emerged in their stead. Squinting her eyes slightly upon calling forth the flame, only to return to her calm demeanour in mere moments. She didn¡¯t hesitate before speaking: ¡°Keep your hands raised¡­¡± A lull in her words allowed her to breathe. ¡°Now, focus on my flame. Resonate your Vel with mine.¡± She remarked in a clear tone, trusting in her students.


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    Her flame shone ever so brightly, the charred skin from her palm radiating with a slight glow. However, she had long since become numb to the ache. She eagerly anticipated the students.


    It wasn¡¯t long before the sound sparkling surged once more, this time from within the cohort. Her gaze averted towards the origin of the sound, turning her head to witness a lad of tiny stature with golden short hair amassing sparkles, but in an visibly unstable form.


    She spoke again, hoping to guide the youthful pyromancers. ¡°Remember, when in presence of your natural element, your Vel will naturally resonate.¡± She swiftly glanced around, awaiting for the next person to succeed. ¡°Focus on the veil of your soul.¡± Igna¡¯s guiding words echoing in their minds.


    Despite this, Kajin¡¯s thoughts were unaffected by their instructor''s words, choosing to fixate on his own. How fantastic... Finally, we are getting into the practical. He assessed, preferring to avert his eyes from the ongoing spectacle.


    His clear distraction was missed by Igna''s thorough inspection of the cohort. He remained voluntarily absent-minded, only darting glances at the rest of the group''s activities. However, he would spare but only a single gaze at the scorching flame, his eyes fixating for a pure second, enough to reflect the light on his eyes.


    His pupils shrank, and his palm began its song, albeit an aggressive one. parks flew for a brief second before the flame ignited. As his hand began to catch fire, the crowd''s attention was drawn back to him. In his futile attempts to stop the horrifying process of excruciating pain, he could only voice a high shrill piercing cry that echoed through the forest.


    Falling to his knees, his cries only repeated. Being looked upon by his peers, their reaction was beyond lethargic, with the only one being with the power to diminish his pain gradually approaching step by step. The flame she had lit previously in her hand, long extinguished.


    Standing over him, she stretched forward with her still exposed right arm, smothering the flame in a single breath, but the fire had long left its mark upon his skin. She lowered herself to meet him at his level, her soft voice loud enough for those nearby to hear, she uttered bearing a deadpan expression. ¡°Rejoice, Kajin. Your affinity is great; Sol must adore you.¡± His exposed flesh peeking through his scarred right arm depicted his condition as he lay on the stone patio, wriggling in discomfort.


    A new type of incompetent horror was carved in the boy''s consciousness, and the eerie quiet grew oppressive, with the chirps of the bird proving to be the only hopeful melody to cleanse their minds from the horrific scene they bore witness to. Drained from their excitement, they no longer bore any thoughts of concentrating on their Vel.


    Igna took note of the situation and hauled herself up, her armour plates clashing against each other, drawing the cohort''s attention back on her. She spoke, ¡°Return to your stations;  whomever does not finish the sparking will remain in the woods until they do.¡± Her eyes shifted to the side, sending a final empty look at Kajin.


    - - -


    The sun started to set, the sky became veiled in an acute orange. The cohort began their march back to the stronghold, and the woodland became quieter by the second. As before, Lady Igna led from the front, her fair skin fusing with the colour brought on by the sun and her darkened armour popping out from her surroundings.


    The sound of shifting gravel, bearing its origins from the striding cohort, contrasted considerably to the eerie calm and in turn making walking a little more pleasant.


    Kajin chose to stroll behind the group¡¯s main line, allowing him to dwell on the happenstance, with his bandaged arm becoming the main focal point of his sight and thoughts. His attempts to caress it turn futile because of the scorching pain that had been engraved on the back of his subconscious.


    His grimace expressed all of his fears, although his mind remained muddled and complicated. They never taught us about affinity¡­ He mumbled to himself, heaving a heavy sigh of dread, ¡°Is this immense strength a gift or a curse...?¡± He raised his bandaged arm once more, dreading its sight.


    The cloak of the trees vanished with every step and the clearing of the foliage refocused his attention on his surroundings; the fortress walls were within sight. The pure air was soon contaminated with the horrible odour of blood that they had all become accustomed to. The previously established clamour of cries and conflicts had suddenly fallen silent, leaving the stronghold grimly peaceful. Nonetheless, they marched without incident.


    ¡°Everyone,¡± Lady Igna spoke out unexpectedly, breaking the chill and commanding her men. "Return for the last meal of the day and proceed to your quarters." Her soft but hollow voice carried a sense of duty and obligation, leaving no doubts in her position of authority.


    - - -


    The mess hall became crowded one last time for the day and soon the pyromancers fell in with their individual groups, returning to their assigned body. The clamour of trenchers and shouts was not unusual. Undeterred by the noise, Kajin carried his own trencher and walked towards his usual seat, the platter itself containing fragments of mashed, unappealing food.


    Invitations to sit near others were thrown at Kajin with the raise of the hand by other fellow comrades he happened to share this fortress with, but he took care in waving them off. His wandering gaze eventually landed upon the two unoccupied seats that stood out to him as well during lunch.


    He paused in his tracks, unable to scratch his chin because his sole available hand was occupied holding the trencher, and started off in the opposite direction of his initial course, allowing his curiosity to take control once again. Through the cavernous halls echoed the murmurs and shouts of his peers; the last supper of the day had just recently begun, giving him plenty of time to explore.


    Finally passing through the frame leading outside, he retraced his route from midday, this time veiled by the impending crescent moon''s light and the company of howls originating from nightowls. His path, while not that bright, remained discernible and feeling the grass sway by his naked feet made him confident in his steps.


    As he approached the little incline of the courtyard, his hearing faded into groans and grunts of exhaustion, while his view was slightly obstructed by the uphill forefront on his sights. But as he reached the apex of the small hill, his attention would soon be drawn to the two silhouettes of the boys making themselves apparent, who were absent from the mess hall.


    One lay on the ground, eating from his trencher, while the other stood tall despite his diminutive height. His movements were in stark contrast to the haughty attitude he assumed, as he was unable to lift even the wooden sword in his hands. He smiled as he witnessed the scene, choosing to forget about that day¡¯s painful training. With a wide grin, he ran up to the two, making sure his footsteps remained silent.


    Reiziko gazed at the fresh night sky, discerning the time. Squinting his eyes to make observations relative to the moon''s position, he maintained a tight focus. However, his train of thinking was abruptly interrupted by the horrifying sight of Kajin''s purposefully squashed face.


    ¡°AAAH-¡± The situation appeared more severe than it was, as Vasil''s productivity was disrupted by a high-pitched cry originating from Reiziko¡¯s reaction. He swiftly pivots with the blade in hand, his golden hair failing to catch up to him, while pointing it toward Reiziko''s direction.


    Vasil yells "Instructors?!" in a frantic yell, as the velocity of his hair being whisked all at once strikes him in the face. While in reality, he will only be met by hysterical laughing from Kajin due to the absurdity of the situation.


    Before he could respond, the point of his wooden sword plummeted to the ground as swiftly as he had lifted it, dragging him along with it. At that moment, Kajin¡¯s reaction only intensified in opposition to Reiziko¡¯s calm yet perplexed expression.


    ¡°You actually lifted it¡­¡± He uttered, confused at the achievement the frail boy had accomplished. Indeed, it would have taken far more days with Vasil¡¯s current physique and pace in mind so to manage such a feat so early would have to be the work of a miracle.


    ¡°Oh, Anders... Have you been hiding this boy''s incredible strength all along?¡± He inquired rhetorically, tilting his head towards the heavens and letting his short black hair fall to the back.

 Chapter 8: Surprise Visit

    The stronghold remained towering as ever, and the late summer sun shone just below its midday point, showering the valleys in its dazzling rays. Through the crevices of the weathered walls resounded the familiar echoes of swords clashes and chants, only to be interrupted by the chimes of the bell.


    The divided groups assembled into one large gathering, with few remaining behind. The march for the mess hall made the dirt ground ramble, the sound of footfall reverberating down the long hallways and concurrent with the loud murmurs arising from the crowd.


    The gathering arrived at the mess hall, each boy grabbing its own trencher and awaiting in a disorganised way for their supper. However, with their limited patience, many would attempt to pass each other so that they may eat meals on time, as a result the hall would quickly descend into anarchy.


    Vasil groaned in astonishment, shaking his head, and returned his empty trencher to the table. He strode in the opposite direction of the gathering turmoil and towards the frame leading outside, making his swift exit before the arrival of the strident instructors. In an exasperated sigh, he quietly uttered, ¡°I guess I will be skipping lunch today¡­¡± and proceeded on his usual route.


    Heading for the inner courtyard, where he had previously completed his morning training, he pressed on, his thoughts unattached to his surroundings. It would only be a few seconds till he arrived at his destination, his discrete training grounds. In his sight stood a tall figure wearing a tunic with a youthful appearance, in good shape and sporting short textured brown hair. He laid atop the hill on the lush ground.


    The boy''s face produces a tiny grin as his gaze meets Vasil''s. Lifting himself up to meet him halfway, he smiles and says, "Yo, grunt!" He finishes his greeting by throwing a little bit of a stale beard with his bandaged right palm. He catches the hardy bread midwalk, casting a meandering gaze upon it. ¡°Yo Kajin¡­ When did you get food?¡± He inquires in a curious tone.


    Finally meeting atop the small hill, Kajin lays his arms on the back of his head and in a nonchalant tone proclaims, ¡°The pyros finished early today.¡± The mention of the pyromancer group was enough to draw Vasil¡¯s attention to Kajin¡¯s bandaged arm, and with a slight frown he asked rhetorically ¡°Your arm is still like that?¡± before proceeding with his remark ¡°It¡¯s been like that since we met two months ago..¡± His discouraged words forced the sentence to wane out.


    Kajin''s body trembles briefly before regaining its composure and saying ¡°Oh, that? It is what it is.¡± His gaze shifts to the side, away from Vasil. ¡°Anyways, you couldn¡¯t get food?¡± He questioned as they made their way to the centre of the field, where there stood a lone old tree.


    ---


    Vasil swung his familiar wooden practice blade, knotted with many more stones than before. Although he showed struggle, his swing remained solid and in form. Meanwhile, Kajin lay on the ground, his face illuminated by the skies as he sat without a worry, which contrasted to Vasil¡¯s case.


    As he dejectedly swung his sword, his distorted face revealed not just his exertion but also his thoughts. Each strike brought back horrible memories, the brutality vividly displayed in his thoughts and stinging with the same anguish he had felt before. His power returned as fast as it had fled, and soon he was unable to endure the torture.


    Letting the tip of the blade rest on the ground, he gave it a long hard stare and he clenched his fist tightly. His frantic breathing gradually calms as he regains the ability to think clearly.


    ¡®I am still weaker¡­ I have yet to grow stronger.¡¯ His gaze darted to the side of the calm Kajin, frowning slightly and letting out an angry groan. The blade in his palms felt ever so heavy and his hands trembled. He took a deep breath, gripped the blade''s hilt tightly, and resumed swinging.


    Kajin raises an eyebrow to the change of pace in Vasil¡¯s hacks of the sword, prompting him to turn his head and observe his movements. The ferocity of his new swing unravelled before his eyes. ¡®What got him worked up?¡¯ He thought without delving into the matter.


    ~Crunch-crunch-crunch~


    Sound of footsteps arose from the blue, dragging the boys¡¯ attention to the side and prompting Vasil to cease his training. Ascending swiftly within their sights was Reiziko, but behind him stood a shorter unknown figure with short blonde bangs that faded into the back of his head, and bearing a worn-out brown tunic.


    Kajin sprung back up, his face bright with a smile, and dashed up to Reiziko. ¡°Yooo Rei!¡± He shouts as he wraps his arm over Reiziko''s rigid shoulders, nearly shoving the depressed-looking boy to the side. ¡°Where you¡¯ve been?¡± His excited voice quickly waned out as he gazed at Reiziko¡¯s sombre visage. Kajin followed his concentrated look to the boy standing next him, who was covered in bruises and had his head dropped in retaliation.


    Kajin swiftly let go of him, his grin quickly fading into a neutral expression, prompting him to utter in a calmer voice ¡°Who¡¯s your friend?¡± Reiziko turned his cold gaze at Kajin, dressing him with a feeling of dread, before speaking, ¡°Let¡¯s go; Vasil needs to hear it.¡± His voice was buried in deep melancholy.


    The group moved in sync towards the centre of the opening they were standing in, as well as the fatigued Vasil. He lay there, catching his breath as the throng marched towards him. Before long the group veiled him in its shadow as he posed on the ground, forcing upon himself a careful pace of his breathing upon their arrival.


    ¡°We¡¯re here now Rei.¡± Kajin said in a slightly annoyed tone, ¡°So, what did you plan on sharing with us today?¡± He inquired quickly and curiously, drawing Reiziko''s attention in the process.


    He sighed, leaving his mouth agape to speak. ¡°I¡¯m gonna address the obvious first.¡± He uttered in a calm tone, returning his focus to the boy standing behind him. ¡°His name is Innacco, and he is not from our group.¡± As if on cue, the boy stepped forward in the midst of the small crowd, drawing cold and calculated looks from those around him.


    ¡°My name is I-Innacco, I come from a h-hamlet in Falchia¡­¡± The child murmured in a measly voice and attempted to elevate his head, but his efforts were disrupted by his own subconscious. ¡°I was found by Sir Y-Yoel after a raid took place in my village, my parents perished and I had nowhere to turn t-to¡­¡± His voice waned with each word he uttered, yet he managed to capture Vasil''s attention with intensity.


    ¡°But if I k-knew my fate here¡­¡± His voice became more visceral and ever more quiet as he expanded on his thoughts, providing an eerie feeling to those surrounding him. ¡°I¡¯d rather have perished back at the fire.¡± Innacco whispered, his cold blank stare reflecting the atrocities he had witnessed and gone through.


    Reiziko clasped the feeble boy''s shoulders with a pained grimace, prompting his eyes to return to its original brightness. When he looked around and saw the pained grimaces on Kajin''s and Reiziko''s faces, his heart filled with a little more tranquillity. In contrast to the group¡¯s atmosphere, Vasil¡¯s distorted visage betrayed a different range of emotions, albeit short-lived.


    The silence that had been established moments prior is immediately broken by Kajin¡¯s inquisition, his young vigorous voice ringing in everyone¡¯s ears. ¡°So, what now Rei? I don¡¯t believe you brought him here just so he can tell us his story?¡± Reiziko offered a modest nod, prepping for his response.


    ¡°Innacco is not alone¡­ I saw at least a dozen others¡­¡± He left a gap in his speech in reaction to his shaking lip. He clutched hard and continued, ¡°This situation can¡¯t prevail any longer.¡± His eyes glimmered in the bright light of hope, yet his vague remarks failed to stir up the others.


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ I''ve been thinking about this for a long time¡­ The best course of action appears to be a mass exodus.¡± His feeble tone does not detract from the weight of his statements. The group''s faces were left gaping, their eyes widened, and even Vasil''s indifference was broken and turning to him in awe.


    ¡°Y-You are serious about this?¡± Vasil murmured, his voice just reaching Reiziko''s ears.


    Reiziko lowered his head, and with a hushed voice he uttered, ¡°It¡¯s the only way.¡±


    ¡°But why can¡¯t we just kill the bad actors?!¡± Yelled Kajin in protest, thrusting his body forward and howling with rage. Reiziko¡¯s distorted expression contorting even further as his grievance intensifies.


    ¡°You think such a plan would suffice?! We would end up dead, like T-Tho..¡± He responds with uncontrollable wrath, only for his voice to wane as a thought or rather a memory crosses his mind. Kajin gazes, his pained look not uttering another syllable, synchronising with Vasil¡¯s wild expression and widened eyes.


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    Reiziko makes a sudden pivot to stand face to face with Innacco, his sincere but pained visage betraying his next words. ¡°Listen to me, Innacco¡­ Prepare for three days from now, we will be leaving this place.¡± Taking hold of his trembling voice with a steady inhale, he proceeds, ¡°Tell as many as you know, I will too.¡±


    Innacco could only nod in response to Reiziko''s plea, as the sound of commotion started to arise once more. The signal was clear, their break was almost over and with a collective nod, everyone began to march back to their regularly scheduled activities. Everyone remained quiet, engrossed deep in their thoughts. Vasil remained bewildered, chewing his nail as cold perspiration flowed down his cheeks.


    His mind ran wild, bombarded with a cluster of convoluted thoughts and questions. ¡®Why would he go to such lengths for nobodies? This is a suicide!¡¯ He reflected, bearing in his head the most apparent worry. Distracted by the voice of his mind, his environment went by unnoticed, almost to the point of missing the abstract maiden standing by the gravel pathway in the shade.


    ¡°AAAH!¡± He shouted and collapsed to the side on the rough ground. His wide, focussed stare stayed fixed on the person, while cold perspiration streamed down his face once more. The rest of the crowd made a leisurely spin to face the source of the ruckus.


    Her lustrous silver hair reaching her shoulders almost hid her abyssal face delving into an empty void, which carried no semblance of similarity to any living creature, instilling a sense of dread to anybody that witnessed it. Her immaculate white garment covered practically her whole body, obscuring any traits that would have stuck out other than her head. And yet, despite her abnormal appearance, nobody save Vasil reacted to her presence.


    ¡°Did you get possessed, Vasil?¡± Inquired Reiziko, almost worried after witnessing Vasil¡¯s wild look. He trembled upon hearing his response, barely managing to lift his hand and point forward to the place he had been facing. He flicks his head back and forth, hoping for someone to point out her presence, but is swiftly confronted with the unsettling truth.


    ¡°A-Are you guys blinded? Don¡¯t you see her?¡± He slowly backed up with each and every measly word he uttered. The three could only look at him with a raised eyebrow as he exclaimed his strange remarks. But Vasil persisted, peering at the nihility and trembling. Suddenly, the maiden broke her motionless stand and, with her first stride, shattered the barrier Vasil had created between them.


    ~Prevent his idea, if you please~


    She had vanished from his sight, yet a pleasant but faint voice echoed in his left ear. Terrified to investigate the source of the voice, his head slowly shifted to the side as he bore no choice in the matter. His eyes widen with shock as he comes in opposition with the void, an endless expanse of abyss stemming from a young girl¡¯s face, burying all the natural features behind it.


    ¡°W-What are y-you¡­?¡± He yelped quietly, his hollow breathing causing his voice to falter with each word. The young girl retaliated in response, gradually backing down and coming in opposition to Vasil once more. In desperation, he attempted to crawl towards his comrades, kicking his legs to drive himself backward. However, to his dismay, the scene he witnessed contradicted all he had seen in his boyhood.


    His friends, unresponsive, unbreathing and yet standing ever still, in the state they were moments prior. They stood like fleshy statues, with no quiver in their bodies, causing Vasil to stifle with horror. Yet, his unresponsiveness would be undone by the recurring soft voice hummed by the standing maiden.


    ~The future that awaits you is dim should he continue along this course~


    No mouth to replicate words, and yet her voice resounds clear in his head, carrying alongside it a wave of calmness and serenity almost turning this bleak and obscure scene into a tranquil sight. Her presence waning, she took a few steps in the opposite direction and then behind Kajin, who stood ever so still, and finally made her exit.


    Her disappearance resembled nothing Vasil had ever witnessed before, the suddenness betraying the idea that she herself might not belong in the physical realm. But he wouldn¡¯t dwell on it for long; by the time he took to process what had occurred, the people who stood near him had already called out to him.


    ¡°Vasil! Cut it out; we have to hurry back, training is starting soon.¡± Reiziko¡¯s voice ringed in his ears but it wouldn¡¯t faze him. He answered with a hollow and empty stare, remitting no emotion, and providing an unsettling feeling.


    ¡°Did a bee spook you, Vasil? Come on, I don¡¯t want to get ass-whooped by Gethin.¡± Kajin inquired jokingly, piercing the cold atmosphere and helping Vasil lift himself. Back on their feet, the four of them hurriedly started sprinting back towards their training of which its beginning lay imminent. But his mind still remained vacant of thoughts, blighted by the scene he had experienced previously.


    ---


    ¡°Ten more sets! I will be watching closely.¡± Yelled the instructor as he strolled by the row of boys performing their push up repetitions, all saturated in sweat and half of them performed shirtless; the merciless heat spared no one. This image was a far cry from where they had begun two months ago, their progress and physique prevailing. Though, as their abilities flourished, so did the difficulty of their training.


    Vasil, on the other hand, saw their workouts as the least of his concerns. ¡®Had I been visited by god?¡¯ He contemplates, but his idea quickly gets shut down by the vivid memory flashing by his mind, depicting the maiden¡¯s empty face. ¡®No¡­ That was no god¡­¡¯ Vasil took a brief pause in his set, grunting with fatigue.


    ¡°Eighty five¡­¡± It wouldn¡¯t last long; cognizant of his duty he continued with his exercise, however he would persist to dwell on her words, conscious about what they might entail. His visage was full of struggle and yet it also conveyed a sense of dread. ¡®Prevent his idea, huh? So that¡¯s what the devil commands¡­¡¯ As the notion crossed his mind, a shudder ran up his spine.


    ¡°Ninety two..¡± His repetitions would soon come to an end, and while some of his fellow subordinates already finished theirs, he remained one of the few to finish so quickly. He gritted his teeth and with his two clenched fist, he repeated the knuckle push up eight more times and finished the last set. However, he ensued with his repetitions, waiting for his instructor to declare his completion.


    Enough time had passed and the sun started to descend, the fortress was veiled in an orange light of the sunset that remained concealed behind the weathered stone walls, the sound of footfall echoed throughout the halls as everyone returned to the mess hall for their final meal of the day.


    Vasil, in opposition to most, marched towards his sanctuary despite his depleted look. In his bloodied and muddy hands lay a piece of half-eaten bread, which remained a luxury for those who finished late.


    ¡®Damn that Gethin¡­ Took him a decade to notice me.¡¯ In spite of his negative thoughts, he lifted his hand which held the food and gave a slight grin before taking a mouthful. Still, the bread turned sour as soon as the notion of what he had to do crossed his mind, only to be soothed by the tranquil surroundings.


    Walking up the same hill, he witnessed the same familiar sight he had seen many times before; this time, though, it was both Reiziko and Kajin that stood on top of the hill, their silhouettes moving their lips as the faint sound of words faded into Vasil¡¯s ears. The sound of the fumbling grass were enough to make the two turn their head to his presence.


    He faced them from a distance, wearing a sombre expression and a distorted frown; the subject of the discussion about to occur was obvious. Vasil took advantage of the chance to speak his remarks now that he was closer to them. ¡°Reiziko¡­ I believe your p-plan might be a bad idea.¡± His voice quiver at the notion of his straight-forward objection.


    Reiziko glared at him with a dead-pan face, not hesitating to speak his mind on the matter. ¡°And why do you think that, Vasil?¡± He asked, his voice devoid of any emotion but tinged with slight wrath. Kajin could only observe as their conversation progressed, his countenance maintaining neutral and reflecting his position on the subject.


    Vasil felt his spit get stuck midway down his throat before he continued with his statements. ¡°I just have the feeling that our exit w-will end in disaster..¡± He mumbles in a low voice while vivid memories of the maiden¡¯s face cross his mind. From Reiziko¡¯s lips left a shallow sigh, his eyelids lightly close while he contemplates.


    ¡®Why would he wish to protect weaklings?¡¯ That anxiety began to engulf Vasil''s consciousness, his gaze darting to the side, but his inner inquiry was soon to be quenched.


    ¡°Sorry Vasil but I have thought this thoroughly¡­ I can¡¯t break my promises now.¡± Reiziko answered stoically, but he would be cut off by Vasil before he could expand on his remark.


    ¡°Only d-death awaits us if we get found out! What may you do then..¡± He spoke with agony, and yet it didn¡¯t manage to faze Reiziko, but Vasil elaborated on his views before he could respond. ¡°Your life in the fortress is well; why bother with others?!¡± Upon realising the volume of his voice, he abruptly halted his remarks.


    ¡°And what do you say about yourself? Had I not helped you, would you not remain like the rest?¡± Reiziko inquired, his apathetic voice broken with a dash of wrath and anger in his words. Vasil could not help but remain quiet, a contorted frown formed on his face as he lowered his head in retaliation.


    Reiziko sighed once again, but this time took advantage of the stillness to follow his ideas. ¡°Let me tell you Vasil, I have seen far more cruel injustice as opposed to this fortress¡­ But the same does not go for others.¡± He paused, took a breath, and resumed his discussion. ¡°Still, I know that the world outside holds a brighter future rather than heading down this path, at least if we remain together.¡±


    His voice weakened as his words came to a conclusion, yet he eventually murmured. "At least that''s what my brothers wanted..." His final comments go ignored by the others, and he ultimately returns to the matter at hand.


    ¡°Let me ask you this, Vasil. What is it that fuels you? What makes you want to get stronger?¡± He curiously inquired, raising his voice once again.


    ¡°I-¡± Vasil glared with a spacious look, terrified to face the truth. Delving into the pits of his mind, and yet his memories remain absent, prompting his anxiety to skyrocket. Cold perspiration flowed down his cheeks and ultimately his back; this terror was all too familiar. ¡®My wishes and desires¡­ W-Where do they stem from?¡¯ Unbeknownst to him, pictures of the faceless girl entered his head as this thought occurred.


    Reiziko¡¯s tolerance had soon been exhausted, so with a final remark he ended their conversation. ¡°Three days. Me and around twenty or so others will make our grand leave, come or don¡¯t. I can''t take any more concerns.¡± He spoke, regaining his impassive tone of voice, making his exit even more grandiose as he marched back towards the main encampment.

 Chapter 9: See The Fire

    The crimson hue veiled the sky, the sound of commotion and clashing calming down made Reiziko¡¯s exit all the more dramatic. The two boys stood there in the meadow by themselves, and the sounds of distant birds, rustling leaves, and the wind blowing by them just served to emphasise how empty the scene felt.


    Vasil turned his head to face Kajin, his visage contorted and full of contempt. Despite his deep trust he had placed in Reiziko, the relentless waves of doubts plagued his mind, as he could see through its confident facade exterior to the haste that formed its basis.


    Before Vasil could express his thoughts on the matter, Kajin took his turn to speak first. ¡°I would have helped, but I¡¯ve already tried everything myself.¡± He remarked with a quiet tone which signalled the tone of the discourse. ¡°He appears determined to pull this through¡­ Can¡¯t be helped, almost all of our friends perished.¡± Kajin utters, the harsh reality dawning upon Vasil.


    He was forced to listen as Kajin''s comments finally let him show how much agony Reiziko had kept so graciously buried. Looking back, it should have been clear as soon as Thomas uttered the name of another boy back during that horrid night, the day of Sir William¡¯s death, but the truth lay dormant since he couldn''t bear to revisit those horrific experiences.


    Kajin let himself down, leaning against the gnarled trunk of a dead tree, closing his eyes and taking a breath of the cool breeze that surrounded them. His calm demeanour reflected his tone, ¡°Everyone wants to leave these walls¡­ But is the outside really better?¡± He uttered, almost going by as a whisper but still falling on Vasil¡¯s ears, leaving room for thought.


    Vasil speaks up, choosing to ignore his rhetorical remark and unable to suppress his curiosity, and asks him, ¡°Who were you before this place?¡± He inquires in a soft but honest voice. Kajin is taken aback, his face resonating with anguish just for a solid moment, but not enough to be noticeable. The purple hue that painted the sky reflected on the mood of the talk about to ensue.


    ¡°O-oh, y¡¯know, just your typical peasant.¡± He pauses to take a stuttered breath and he continues. ¡°Quite small, we all knew each other¡­¡± His voice carried a tinge of wrath as he uttered those last words but his unyielding composure remained intact. Vasil''s countenance was perplexed, and his silence spoke volumes.


    ¡°I never imagined someone like you would belong to a village..¡± Vasil remarked, bewildered by this new substance of information. ¡°What threw you off?¡± Kajin asked semi-sarcastically, followed by a light chuckle.


    He remained quiet for a moment, wearing a focused look, allowing the silence to carry for an awkward length of time. Before Kajin could continue his previous ongoing statements, Vasil allowed himself to answer the previously posed question. ¡°I guess it would be the way you conduct yourself during your duels.¡± He spoke in a puzzled tone, but he ensued on his point. ¡°Your abilities were beyond the brute force that is commonplace here¡­¡±


    Kajin¡¯s visage saw a cold drop of sweat roll down his cheeks, regardless, he spoke in a shaky voice and carried himself through this conversation. ¡°Didn¡¯t know I had a fan¡­ Perhaps you might learn a thing or two.¡± From his lips escaped an exasperated sigh, his resultant words carrying a different sense of melancholy.


    ¡°Anyway, my story is not so intriguing. You work your ass off day by day and one day they discover you were a pyromancer so they just sell you off.¡± He spoke in a painful tone, hidden by a forced smile. Rubbing the back of his head, he chose to switch the question upon Vasil. ¡°So, what about you?¡± He urged, his eagerness concealed by tranquillity.


    Vasil carried himself with discomfort, yet he dared indulge in the subject. ¡°I d-don¡¯t¡­ I have almost no recollection of what occurred before here.¡± Kajin glanced at him both curiously and confused; meanwhile, Vasil''s mind rushed through a slew of disorganised ideas, attempting to reach the depths of his being once more. However, he remained unable to reach a satisfactory answer.


    ¡°I only remember the few nights I spent outside at a small village, before I got picked up by a passing crusade.¡± His voice sounded tired, not daring to recall any further memories, but he continued. ¡°The village was plagued, almost deserted¡­ Everyone headed south and the few that remained made my life hell¡­¡± His voice waned with every word, yet he kept rumbling as his desire to suppress his speech was overshadowed.


    ¡°Food had become scarce and the things I h-had to do to get it¡­¡± His words stammered as his memory cleared, his vision darkened, and his head sank. Faint recollections of the lord of the village and his chambers crossed his mental imagery, as did images of the bodies of the plagued and diseased as their skin flaked off and the brilliant scarlet flesh gleamed through the fiery pits, and the stench of urine and faeces soon revisited him as a fragrant flashback.


    Kajin could only observe as the boy dug himself further into an abyss from which he would eventually be impossible to emerge. Finally, he said, ¡°Let the past be past, Vasil.¡± Those few words were enough to stop his cognitive process and bring him back to reality. Kajin leaves a sombre sigh and proclaims in a calm tone, ¡°All folk from this fortress have a tragic history, Reiziko especially. But he doesn¡¯t let it define him.¡±


    Vasil¡¯s eyes gain a glimmer of hope and understanding, his soul embracing the discomfort and coming forth to a new revelation. In light of this, his attempts to begin grasping this fresh way of life would begin from this moment. But the emotions wouldn''t go away that quickly; his struggle would be lengthy and torturous. Still, there were more dire matters at hand back in the conscious realm.


    ¡°Vasil? Come on, the sun already settled. We need to head back.¡± Kajin remarked, his words veiled in urgency. Vasil responded with a firm nod, although he remained apprehensive feeling  a sense of absentmindedness pervading his head.


    In the end, he made no fuss about it and headed on following after Kajin.


    - - -


    The sun shined once more, casting its bright rays over the lush green hills and the starkly different withering walls of the stronghold. Its warmth was softly overlaying the cloak of coldness that had been shifting with each passing day. And so, under the brilliant light stood a lone warrior, in his hand belonged a large wooden sword to help him hone his abilities.


    No chill penetrated his skin, covered in a bundle of sweat as his continuous repetitions became heavier with each swing, infecting the air around him with heftiness. Eventually, he arrived at a standstill, allowing the tip of his dull blade to rest on the ground and give himself an anchor to lean on.


    Observing the lush ground he stood on, it wasn¡¯t long before his entire stance changed. Letting his sword fully lay on the ground, he too sank on his hands and tip of his feet and began pushing himself against the dirt and soil. Meticulously replicating the exercise in his finest form and performing uncounted repetitions; he only sought to increase his strength.


    Arriving to the point where the weight of his last repetition became overburring, he grunted in pain, attempting to surpass his current limits. However, at the height of his final reiteration, his arms succumbed to the weight that quadrupled in those last few seconds, ending with him kissing the hard soil beneath him.


    He wastes no time to turn on his back and breath in the clear air that had turned from a heavy oppressing weight into a rejuvenating source of energy and clairvoyance. Facing against the blinding haze of the sun, he swiftly turned to the side, into the shade of the tree, giving himself enough breathing room for his thoughts to prevail once more.


    ¡®Two days till the escape¡­¡¯ He thought and left a heavy sigh under his breath. His sense of normalcy, which he had fought hard for and acquired would soon be extinguished in favour of potentially better reality. Still his anxiety and troubles wouldn¡¯t allow him to think positively for a moment, as he was continually plagued by doubts and concerns that were on the verge of a breaking point if not for his unwavering faith in Reiziko.


    And to top it off, burned onto his memory had been the sight of the mysterious maiden who only encouraged his uncertainties. Having held off on the question of her origins and his psyche, he examined the mental image he had constructed once more.


    ¡®He is unlike anybody else I¡¯ve ever seen¡­¡¯ Closing his eyes and furiously rubbing his hair in frustration trying to perceive her features in clarity, he focused on representing his memories vividly. ¡®His muscles were slender and skinny. Weirdly malnourished except for the lump of fat that protruded from his chest¡­¡¯ His visage bore a confused look as the image became more coherent as well as a sly blush on his cheeks that also added on to his turmoil.


    Promptly interrupting his thoughts, his thinking shifted to the main distinguishing feature of her anatomy, or rather lack thereof. Her face had been something that his own imaginative mind could never conjure, an abyss so deep that the sense of dread it brought was unlike anything else he had the displeasure of experiencing.


    Swiftly dismissing the young girl¡¯s image that birthed unfamiliar emotions and sentiments, he altered his stance to a straight back and crossed legs, bearing his open palms into the grass ground. Acquiring a last look of nature, he gently lowered his eyelids, and took in a slow deep inhale of the clean air that was devoid of the foul odour of blood and urine that usually surrounded him.


    His moment of tranquillity was disturbed by the chilly sensation of bitter cold hands pressing upon his shoulders, earning him a feeling of dread and causing his heart to skip a beat. His eyes widened in shock as he leaped forward and away from the mysterious presence that stood behind him. However, his anxieties were soon laid to rest as he witnessed the figure who crumbled in a fit of laughter under the pretence of this scene.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    - - -


    Turning his head to come in opposition with Kajin, who had found himself in hysterics over Vasil¡¯s obscure reaction, his own mood quickly turned sour. He stared at Kajin with a bewildered look before opening his lips to speak. ¡°Are you finished?¡± he inquired, exasperated. His own gaze remained devoid of any emotion except from contempt.


    ¡°Yeeah, m-my bad¡­¡± Kajin, hardly able to stop his chuckling amusement, fumbled his response and partially covered his lips with his bandaged hand. His composure was regained as fast as his mood waned, causing Vasil to raise an eyebrow.


    ¡°What happened? Already finished?¡± He remarked slightly astonished at the change of pace, his visage tinged with a hint of newfound calmness. In spite of that, he couldn¡¯t help but flinch as Kajin left his mouth agape to speak, scared that he might alter his opinion at any moment.


    His sombre look betrayed his incoming words, ¡°Yeah.. I thought I should spare you for today.¡± His soft voice didn¡¯t faze Vasil, but it did assist in bringing him a sense of peace followed by a sigh of relief. He had no clue as to what influenced Kajin, but thought it would be ultimately best not to examine it any further.


    Kajin shifts his gaze and scans his surroundings, looking slightly upset he calls out once more and asks Vasil, ¡°Where¡¯s Rei?¡± his heavy tone had been veiled in the sense of casualness. Vasil remained unable to pick up on the undertones, yet his reply reciprocated the sentiment. ¡°No idea, probably scheming.¡± He responded devoid of any guises, revealing his agitated state of mind.


    He lifted himself and picked up his fallen blade once more, hinting at slight struggle in that act due to the buildup of excess training. But he ensued regardless, his muscles tensing with each movement he took. Kajin vacantly stared at Vasil¡¯s movements and with cold indifference he responded, ¡°That so..?¡±


    As he observed Vasil¡¯s training, he began whistling with ennui and not soon after swiftly changed the conversation back to something that piqued his curiosity. ¡°Hey, you want to check something interesting?" His voice conveyed a sense of wonder, prompting Vasil to halt his excessive training.


    ¡°Something interesting? Wouldn¡¯t hurt to spare the details.¡± He replied, half-curious himself. However he wouldn¡¯t receive a satisfactory answer.


    ¡°Time is of the essence, I already have someone waiting there. So do you want to follow or not?¡± He asked with a sense of urgency, refusing to stand still any longer.


    - - -


    The two boys, trying to abuse their free time to their limit, started sprinting towards their destination, one closely following behind the other who led the charge. The blonde lad who strung along was drenched in perspiration from both his earlier exercise and his many worries. Despite that, he placed his trust in his ally and loyally followed him.


    Turning the corner, in their sights belonged another tallish boy, his hair light as was Vasil¡¯s and yet it drew longer in comparison. His lean build stood in contrast to the hefty and aesthetic appearance many had developed in this environment but to make it this far meant his looks had not reflected his true strength.


    Kajin¡¯s eyes drew a glimmer, his lips drew open and the words escaped his mouth. ¡°Phillip! You¡¯ve made it!¡± As their distance lessened, so did their pace. Phillip had not taken long to approach Kajin, and after coming to a halt, he stretched his arms wide, ready to morph into a welcoming embrace. Phillip too raised his hand, but his reaction had not been anticipated.


    His hand meets Kajin¡¯s smiling visage as it swipes across his cheeks and ends up opposite of its origin, carrying him to the ground and sending him in a world of pain. Shocked and confused, he would attempt to question his actions but ultimately they would be answered before any words could ever escape through his teeth.


    Phillip approached Kajin¡¯s ear, shouting right into it, ¡°Shall the entire fortress know that I am here?!¡± His voice did not stand out from the regular cacophony of sounds in this environment, but it revealed fresh aspects of his character.


    Vasil slowed down to gather his breath, and despite the hilarious nature of the circumstance, his attitude was indifferent. While Kajin writhed on the ground, Phillip''s curious gaze crossed with Vasil¡¯s figure, eliciting the following query from his side. ¡°Hm? Who¡¯s the kid?¡±


    Kajin struggled to answer as he rubbed his ringing ear, but he did so nonetheless.  ¡°Oh, Vasil? He¡¯s in Reiziko¡¯s group.¡± Phillip glanced at Kajin for a second before approaching Vasil; his attitude to the response he had received was less than pleasant. ¡°Are you one of those freedom fools or are you just one of his lackeys?¡±


    His tone veiled in anger and distrust; it would quickly turn off Vasil from his presence, feelings of animosity and bitterness started welling up inside his mind. But soon his thought process would be interrupted by the ensuing awkward words stemming from Kajin. ¡°Hey, come on, that¡¯s not nice. Rei is a good friend of ours.¡±


    Phillip shifted his attention back to Kajin, letting out a frustrated groan. ¡°I do not get how you seriously trust that guy so much¡­ You know the slightest bit about him, it¡¯s like he is a stranger.¡±


    The corner of Kajin¡¯s mouth carved upward and his face morphed into a devious look; swiftly raising his index finger and swaying it from left to right, he added, ¡°Tsk tsk.. Phillip, you know better than to condemn people based on their history.¡± his condescending tone would eventually collapse beneath his unexpected burst of laughter.


    ¡°A-After all, if we were to judge you¡­ You¡¯d be the loathsome dun-¡± Before Kajin had been able to finish his sentence, he had been struck from behind through the force of Phillip¡¯s left hand, inducing a severe headache and forcing him to respond.


    Phillip said in a disjointed tone following a hefty grunt. ¡°Shut up; that was only a rumour.¡± He cast one last curious and careful gaze back at Vasil, not uttering another word, and pivoted back. It appeared that his interest had faded and he shifted towards the more pressing matter.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go before our break is over, I have been waiting to visit this place for days¡­¡± He added, before strolling towards a battered door that had been in the background throughout this whole discussion. Kajin¡¯s countenance remained joyful while Vasil raised an eyebrow; he had yet to grasp the objective of their trip, but he would find himself unable to ask.


    Nevertheless, they went ahead, leaving him in the dark. Approaching the old boarded-up and beaten door, Kajin put himself front and centre of the cohort and gently dropped to approach the latch. In a twisted fashion, he grabbed a hold of his right arm and slowly freed it from its bandages, leaving pieces of dead flesh sticking onto them.


    From beneath them peaked a crimson that consumed all light, a dark red that was nastier than blood, a mass of swollen, burnt flesh. Untreated burns and scars heaped over on top of one another, resembling what was once a hand. Kajin remained unfazed by his severe wounds but the image would linger in Vasil''s memory for a long time, being sensitive to the sight.


    Soon, in Kajin¡¯s scarred hand, devoid of the veil of bandages, a slew of faint sparks sprang forth, formed out of thin air and powered by his own will. It was unlike anything Vasil had bore witness to; the world he knew appeared so little in contrast to Kajin¡¯s abilities, yet it was a terrifying revelation. The side effects of such power revealed themselves to be quite vile and obscure, unsure of whether such a sacrifice was worth the trouble.


    His insatiable curiosity could not be contained any longer, so he moved forward with an inquiry. ¡°D-Don¡¯t you feel that?¡± He muttered, unsure if he was heard by his peers, but Kajin made it apparent that his query had been received and would be addressed.


    ¡°Hm.. I do feel a tingle¡­¡± He says as his eyes widen, following a sudden movement from his right hand, lifted in the direction of Vasil. Spooked from his reaction, he falls on his back and pushes away, prompting a shout from Kajin. ¡°Aaa! It burns! It burns!¡±


    Startled and unsure of what to do, Vasil¡¯s gaze darted from side to side, terrified to face the objective truth, but his nerves would eventually be calmed by the abrupt proclamation made by Kajin, ¡°...Kidding!¡± His tone sounded light and joyous once more, but it was insufficient to quell Vasil''s mounting rage.


    Before he was able to dwell on it any further, Phillip swooped in again with a rising fist aiming for Kajin¡¯s head, handling the matter in a straight-forward manner.


    ¡°Can you actually hurry up? I¡¯ll murder you if we don¡¯t make it back in time.¡± Phillip said calmly, yet his relaxed demeanour did not reflect emotions at the time, merely his words. Kajin visage exuded terror and dread, so in a smart act devoid of the usual nonsense, he resumed his action from the point which he had left off.


    Soon the sparkles in Kajin¡¯s right palm grew ever more concentrated and gloriously transformed into a small high-speed flame, standing in stark contrast to the horrid sight that enveloped it.


    The red tint of the flesh would only fade into a deeper charcoal variation as the flame stood by its side, the blisters that had grown to protect the skin broke under the tremendous heat, and their liquid drained and evaporated all in the same moment; the burns had progressed far beyond anything Vasil had witnessed before.


    The nauseating odour of burning flesh permeated the air, and on the verge of his own sickness and appalment, Phillip, once again, managed to halt Vasil¡¯s urges, this time to vomit, with his ensuing question. ¡°Is there something you can do about that?¡± His concern resonated with Kajin''s subconscious, irking him to answer sincerely while meddling with the door''s lock at the same time.


    ¡°A pyro healer is expected to arrive shortly¡­¡± He said, while preoccupied with melting the door¡¯s lock off and added, ¡°Normally our burns are not so bad; I was simply not attentive.¡± His head had been urging to turn to the side, but the task at hand demanded his attention.


    Upon him keeping the flame on the door¡¯s latch, a slight shift occurred to its position, signalling that the door itself had been unlocked. Now, the only thing that held them back from entering was the wooden boards nailed to the door itself. However, that wouldn¡¯t remain a problem.


    While Kajin kept himself busy with applying a fresh bandage to his burnt and damaged arm, with a head nod of Phillip, the two boys gave the big old door a slight push and the rusty nails that kept the boards and the door in place quickly fell to the stone cold patio that they stood upon, echoing a metallic cling sound as they bounced off the floor.


    The wooden door slowly creaked open, its sound producing wonder and intrigue while drawing the boys¡¯ attention back, still unable to shake off the ominous and unsettling feeling it provided. The room beyond remained dark and invisible, but it yearned to be explored.

 Chapter 10: Fear the Pale Sun

    Beams of sunlight reached the vacant space that opened from the wide wooden door, leaving the boys¡¯ mouth gaping. The chamber became immersed in the golden light, and as their eyes adjusted, the coldness radiating from the stone patio melted away, to be replaced with the warmth emanating in the sight unfolding before their eyes.


    First to step into the unknown would be Kajin, and behind followed Vasil and Phillip, never daring to trail far. However gradual their entrances were, the sound of their bare feet echoed throughout the whole chamber and not further, lifting settled dust with every step.


    The reflecting light revealed something that had remained beyond their puny trail of thought, something that had been foreign and strange to them. The room stretched for a long bit, fading into the darkness, covered with shelves atop shelves housing volumes on a variety of themes, as ancient as they were.


    The chamber before them carried a feeling similar to that of an ancient temple of knowledge, where the weight of time itself had settled into the dust covering the shelves. Rows upon rows of thick, leather-bound tomes, scrolls, and fragile-looking manuscripts sat in rigid alignment, their cracked spines betraying their age and strange engravings upon their cover.


    The vastness of the chamber, filled with this forgotten wisdom, was both awe-inspiring and intimidating, as if each volume was holding secrets that only the bravest might uncover. The three young boys, on the other hand, were unable to grasp the true value of such knowledge, stemming from an non educational background they could only observe and admire this collection. With the exception of one.


    ¡°...¡± As Kajin''s eyes drifted off, unwinding the brilliance of the spectacle before them, an idea occurred to him, aided by his memory. ¡°Hey¡­ Phillip.¡± His youthful voice breached the barrier of stillness that lay between them, prompting Phillip to speak.


    ¡°What is it?¡± He asked in a curious tone as to Kajin¡¯s inquiry. However, he waited a few moments, taking in the scenery one last time before asking Phillip. "Hadn¡¯t you been a rich kid?"


    - - -


    The three boys, now heaped on top of each other, drew themselves near a corner of the room, one that had been riddled with a pile of volumes upon volumes. Phillip stood in front of the pile, squatting, appearing occupied and engrossed in a strange process of picking up books one by one, only to give them a fleeting glance, before discarding them into Kajin¡¯s and Vasil¡¯s open palms.


    Kajin could only handle holding the volumes for so long before he threw them even further than their original position. Vasil took care in protecting the valuable tomes but his efforts would quickly be futile as he would succumb to the weight of the books he had been holding, ultimately falling, spectacularly.


    "Unearthed any ancient wisdom yet, or just found more trash?" Kajin asked impatiently, quietly observing Phillip at his most proficient work, reading.


    "Ah, a fine collection of dust and scribbles. Quite the find, really." Phillip answered with the tiniest bit of sarcasm, almost none really, sparing no glance at Kajin.


    As his impatience rose by the second, Kajin began to toy with his surroundings, flinging books around and even pretending to read them. Yet, it didn''t take long for boredom to set in, and with an exasperated groan, he turned to Phillip and asked in a sarcastic tone, "How can you be this sluggish? Weren''t you supposed to be some brilliant reader, a star student, or whatever it was they called you as an aristocrat''s son?"


    Without letting him reply, he spat once more and said, ¡°You¡¯d find more sense in a drunkard¡¯s prayer than in those pages.¡± Plainly adding insult to injury.


    Phillip barely acknowledged him, casting only a fleeting side glance before resuming his search. He replied dryly, ¡°How are you this stupid and don¡¯t even know Bamivor? You speak it fluently, yet you can''t read a word of it?¡±


    Kajin merely chuckled, rolling his head back lazily as he sprawled atop another heap of dusty tomes. With a dismissive shrug, he retorted in a relaxed drawl, ¡°Alright, alright, whatever you say¡­ Phillip, the much-born dung eater.¡±


    Phillip abruptly abandoned his task, whipping around to face Kajin, his expression contorted with sudden fury. "Listen here, you little shit," he spat, eyes blazing. "That was nothing but a slanderous rumour spread by jealous fools trying to tarnish my family''s name. If you-"


    Phillip''s tirade came to a sudden halt, words dying on his tongue, as a distant, echoing sound filled the chamber¡ªa signal that spoke of a threat far graver than their petty quarrel. The air grew tense, both of them snapping their heads towards the source, their earlier hostility forgotten in an instant.


    A familiar sound rang across the hall, one that had chimed recently. The massive oak door groaned, rusty hinges protesting all the while, rumbling upon its movement and instilling an unmistakable sensation of dread within the three boys, leaving them to scramble for a desperate bail.


    Unknowingly, their sporadic response had only served to worsen the situation.


    The two boys made a wild but covert dash towards the deeper area of the abandoned library. Frenzied, they instinctively ignored their goal, leaving Vasil to fend for himself, seemingly forgetting the pile of tomes he aguishly carried in his puny arms.


    Soon, the sound of the volumes dropping one by one would drown out any creaks the door could have produced, exacerbating the unsettling tension that had been assumed within this enormous and oppressive space.


    Becoming disoriented and falling on his tail, a slight grunt escaped from Vasil¡¯s lips moments before his face became devoid of all colour, his lips dry and his breath accelerated. He stumbled to cover himself after briefly looking at the source of the previous commotion.


    Like the others, he attempted to make a desperate sprint towards cover, but not even a few paces in, he staggered on his feet, slipping and harshly landing face forward. Even in this state of terror, and maybe by instinct, he couldn¡¯t stop himself from reflecting on what had halted his walk, only to be met with something unordinary inexplicable.


    He sluggishly blinked twice, thinking his eyes might have expired, but what he was seeing was the same world he had been wandering in.


    It was a book, similar to the ones he held before, yet they couldn¡¯t compare in terms of appearance. Its design was simple yet persuasive, yearning for it to be opened. On the cover of the tome laid a sun-like symbol that was cloaked in white, and in front of it stood its title.


    Vasil slipped into a short trance; something about that book seemed odd, and on closer scrutiny, that assertion turned out to be accurate.


    He felt confident in the fact that he never learnt how to read or write in any language, yet for some odd reason, the tome that had piqued his interest was perfectly intelligible. But that wasn¡¯t the strangest part; the reason he stopped before reading it was much more bizarre.


    ?????? ????


    ???0\-?/??


    ???? ??????


    ¡°The letters¡­ They are shifting?¡± He whispered to himself, unable to comprehend what was happening right before his eyes. His mouth remained agape after his realisation, sweat trickled down his cheek and his eyes became dilated.


    ~Tap-Tap-TAP~


    His drowsy condition would only be broken by the sound of footsteps, once again, entering his previous state of panic.


    He surveyed the room back and forth, trying to deduce a plan of action, anywhere he could hide, but his mind was too preoccupied. Wishing to not lose sight of this unusual relic he had found, he swiftly grabbed the tome from the floor and like before, sprinted.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    However, making this split second decision resulted in a minor mishap. As he continued to move quickly and quietly, he came across an aperture between the shelves, where he stood; the silhouette of the man who had invited himself within the chambers of the ancient bibliotheca.


    Vasil could simply stare, unable to even flinch, eyes wide open. The consequences of his actions were in his sight and all he could do was wait to receive them.


    He waited, for a mere few seconds he waited, seconds that felt like minutes. His brain had gone numb and his muscles stiff, finally he had closed his eyes, the only thoughts running through his head were that of his demise. Oddly, in this moment, he still hadn¡¯t let go of the book he had been holding in his right arm, as it turned into a source of comfort in the crucial moment.


    And then, predictably and violently, he was caught by the hand, ready to be returned to the main encampment, met face to face with an instructor and whipped into shape. Or perhaps an even worse fate awaited him, like that of Thomas.


    Vasil opened his eyes to confront the person who discovered his presence, only to be met by the shroud of darkness again. He attempted to shift about, but his efforts were worthless; the sensation of being gripped firmly made him comprehend his situation. His small frame hadn¡¯t aided him much either.


    He opened his mouth, but it quickly had been shut by the palm of the person who held him down.


    His heartbeat stayed fast, but he understood that he had most likely not been detected yet, so his struggles faded as he leaned on the one who kept him silent.


    With his senses heightened, he kept his ears open and listened. The footsteps of the invader neared briefly before fading back into obscurity, accompanied by the sound of the door creaking shut once again.


    The tension remained at a halt for a few seconds before being broken by the gasp for air performed from the person near him, at the same time releasing him from his clutches; Vasil seemingly recreated the action, exhausted from his anxieties.


    He turned around to greet the person who had rescued him, only to be met with a familiar face.


    ¡°Phillip.. Thanks.¡± He said in a short and awkward manner, struggling to catch his breath.


    Phillip raises his head to meet Vasil''s gaze, his visage carrying a sense of scorn and contempt, his furrowed blond and thin eyebrows standing out from the rest of the features. As he aggressively opened his mouth, Vasil knew the next words he would hear would not be pleasant.


    ¡°Are you stupid?!¡± Phillip hissed, his voice a harsh whisper as he stepped closer. ¡°If you¡¯d stood there for a second more, we¡¯d find you hanging the next day.¡±


    Vasil¡¯s grip tightened on the book in his hands. He backed away slightly, lowering his head. In a meek voice, he stammered, "I-I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ I just¡ª" His sentence trailed off, his voice fading and his face turned pale.


    Phillip sighed heavily, his frustration giving way to something softer. ¡°You¡¯re lucky his eyes hadn¡¯t adjusted to the dark yet,¡± he said, his tone subdued. ¡°And stupid for not realizing it.¡± His tone gradually subdued as he spoke, his face muscles relaxed and his breathing regulated.


    A moment of quiet pursued soon after, with the air getting increasingly stale with each passing second. The two got time to think and examine their surroundings, Vasil however, still shaken, stared at the floor. Phillip, on the other hand, was able to view his surroundings more acutely. His eyes landing on the book, a welcome distraction from the tension.


    He hesitated slightly, giving the insecure adolescent one more look before enquiring in a gentle tone, ¡°So... you found a book for us to read?¡±


    Seemingly oblivious to the moment, he raised his head to respond to Phillip, his drama becoming short-lived in order to satisfy his insatiable curiosity. ¡°Yes. I had stumbled upon this earlier¡­¡± he exclaimed in a light but slightly enthusiastic tone, as his eyes lit up with the notion of his find.


    As he hoisted his acquired book, he spoke of its weird properties, but Phillip remained unamused, if not a bit confused.


    ¡°This.. This is just a normal book?¡± He said in a neutral voice that carried a hint of curiosity. ¡°However, it¡¯s not written in Bamivor¡­¡± he added.


    Vasil gave Phillip a vacant stare, prolonging his response by five seconds as he began rapidly giving stares at the tome¡¯s cover and back at Phillip; in his eyes, the letters had been constantly rearranging themselves this whole while and yet Phillip hadn¡¯t raised an issue.


    He proceeded to sheepishly ask, ¡°Are you sure? I see it like I told you.¡±


    Phillip could only raise an eyebrow at the boy''s question before quickly rejecting it with a head nod. However, he had not finished his remark as he vaguely added, ¡°It is strange though, I hadn¡¯t seen text like this anywhere.¡± As he spoke, he gave the unusual book¡¯s cover one more perusal before sighing in despair.


    Vasil¡¯s visage betrays bewilderment as he makes a simple response to Phillip''s previous statement. ¡°But why can I read this mess?¡± He asked inquisitively and slightly bothered at this conundrum.


    Phillip¡¯s eyes widen and his face slightly falls closer on the tome and Vasil as he pauses in his conversation to contemplate.


    ¡°Creepy...¡± came a sudden remark.


    ¡°Yes¡­ Indeed, ver-¡±


    Both boys froze.


    Phillip¡¯s talk interrupts itself as he becomes aware of the tall boy¡¯s existence, the one that had been lurking in the veil of shadows. ¡°****, WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!¡± His obscenities grew so wild that he couldn''t remember what he had uttered at that very moment.


    Vasil gave a small wave, seemingly unbothered by the new arrival. As Kajin stepped into the dim light. ¡°From the ceiling,¡± He spoke joyfully and grinned, meanwhile pointing skyward.


    Phillip stared at him, dumbfounded, and Kajin returned the gaze. The two remained at a standstill, until Phillip¡¯s groan shattered the silence. Trying to calm himself, he stroked his brow and ignored Kajin''s comment, focussing on the more pressing matter, ¡°You hid on the roof of this room, did you see who opened the door?¡± He inquired semi-analytically.


    Kajin paused for a moment, and it weren¡¯t too soon before his countenance was covered in perspiration as he recalled the face of the one, besides them, who had invaded this sacred place.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ It was Ashon¡­¡± His shaky voice barely made his words audible in an attempt to conceal the truth, but this just fuelled Vasil''s and Phillip¡¯s curiosity. At the same time however, distancing themselves from Kajin; a sense of primitive terror conquering over them.


    Phillip gently raises his neutral voice and asks, ¡°Who?¡± confidently. Kajin takes a big breath and almost says the man''s name, but he is abruptly halted as a hand covers his lips, taking him by surprise. Phillip''s visage, which is becoming whiter and paler, contrasts sharply with the haughty look he had moments before.


    ¡°If my guess is correct, better not to speak his name..¡± Phillip said as he carefully pulled his palm from Kajin''s mouth.


    Vasil raises an eyebrow and opens his lips, enquiring in a questioning tone with a hint of judgement, ¡°Who was it and why not say it..?¡± Kajin and Phillip turned towards him, and almost immediately said, "It''s a bad omen."


    ¡°Oh¡± Vasil remarked, as he nodded in understanding, letting go of the book he held.


    They all shared a deep sigh, letting go of their anxieties as Phillip made a remark, ¡°Thank Fortuna that HE didn¡¯t find us¡­¡± followed by a brief break, with the tension in the air gradually fading as the interval proceeded.


    Kajin looked around one final time, confirming that nothing would break their flow, and then proceeded to ask, ¡°So! Has anyone discovered any books?¡± His louder than normal voice snapped the attention of the other two boys, creating a brief but confident posture, albeit fleeting.


    Vasil shook his head, although he remained a bit perplexed, his visage looking distorted despite his confidence that he hadn¡¯t found any. Phillip shared the same sentiment short of the confusion.


    Despite the sorry-state they found themselves in, Kajin couldn¡¯t help but smile, and proclaimed, ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± He paused and then said, ¡°Because I found a nice one!¡± Kajin remarked in an ecstatic tone, pulling something jammed between his back and his muddy braies and quickly exhibiting it to Phillip.


    Phillip¡¯s eyes narrowed, his nose wrinkled and his upper lip curled; he took a step back, recoiling from the sight he had just witnessed, before he asked in a queasy voice, ¡°Do I have to read this now?¡±


    Vasil couldn''t help but share Kajin''s joy; being able to read a novel for the first time in his life was something he had never imagined possible. Still, something at the back of his mind caused a sense of unease, albeit it very slight, but he couldn''t place his finger on it.


    But it remained such an insignificant sensation that he instantly dropped all concerns about it, and awaited with enthusiasm as Phillip reluctantly removed the book from Kajin''s hands with his thumb and pointer finger, practically pinching it.


    He hurriedly lay it down and softly and slowly sounded the name of its cover, ¡°Chronicles of the Old: The War of the Eternal Night¡±


    Chapter 10: Fear the Pale Sun

 Chronicles of the Old, The War of the Eternal Night: Dopra Part 1

    The sky, ever changing, never constant. Sometimes veiled in darkness and illuminated by the moonlight, other times its radiant glow would color valleys and offer light to even the darkest of pathways. But now, it shrouded the atrocities committed by the three great Heraos and the world''s enemy, the Scaga Empire.


    ¡°AAAAAAAAAH!!!¡±


    ¡°AAAUGH!¡±


    Shouts of anguish and blood-curdling screams were drowned out by the clashing of swords, the sound of falling rubble, the relentless footfalls, and the deafening war cries. This was no mere battle; it was a tragedy masked as war, a sight etched into the soul. Though few had succumbed completely, countless others lay sprawled across the crimson-veiled ground, their wounds deep and hope fleeting.


    Severed limbs, headless torsos, and spilt entrails littered the battlefield, but the warriors pressed on, averting their eyes from the carnage. To falter, to feel, meant death.


    In this battle, the three Heraos¡ªKalvas, Dopra, and the newly emerged Buland¡ªhad begun at a disadvantage, their numbers dwarfed by the Scaga Empire''s pyromancer army. At their helm stood Cyril Rookwood, The General, a master of fire and strategy. Yet, against all  odds, the Heraos had triumphed, their cunning and resolve overcoming the empire''s might.


    But that victory felt distant now, a faint echo swallowed by the bloodlust of the present. All logic, all strategy, had been consumed by the primal chaos of war. Men no longer thought; they only fought, driven by a singular, savage instinct¡ªto kill the enemy before them.


    <-  -  ->


    A few weeks earlier, under the bright sun of Dalhester, the world seemed at peace.


    Birds chirped as sunlight bathed the bustling streets of the Dopra kingdom''s capital. Dalhester, the heart of pyromancy, was a city of contrasts¡ªa thriving haven for those once hunted, yet burdened by the ghosts of its past. Its recent emergence had brought freedom and unity, but its culture, still young, bore the marks of its fragmented history.


    Despite this, the herao exuded a sense of liberation, having broken away from its history and become an autonomous part of the world, eager to enjoy and flourish within its own culture. A thriving community for persons who had previously been hunted and enslaved.


    Amid the lively streets, a young man moved with hurried steps. His short, sharp dark hair clung to his damp forehead, his face a canvas of anxiety. He adorned a dark cloak and his leggings were covered in leg wraps, the bulky wear hindering his agility. In his trembling hands was kept an almost scrambled piece of paper.


    The young man headed towards Dalhester''s heart where the Lowell Castle, home to many great individuals, stood. One of which the fort was named after, Lowell, The First Exarch.


    Inside, Lowell laid on his side by a sunlit window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. His long and coarse silver hair shimmered in the light, a testament to his years, yet his posture remained unyielding. The weight of countless battles and centuries of knowledge rested on his shoulders, yet his presence was anything but frail. Time, however, was a foe even he could not defeat.


    ¡°Grrrr-rrrr-rrrrrr¡±


    Time and well, hunger.


    Lowell''s stomach growled with agitation loud enough to be heard along the corridors. He tightly clenched his stomach with his scruffy looking hand and hoisted himself with the other. He sat upright with a groan, crossing his arms in defiance of his own hunger.


    ¡°Mmm¡­ LAURENCE!!!! MEAT!!!¡±


    His voice boomed through the corridors, shaking dust from the rafters. The entire castle felt the sensation produced by the tremendous sound that quickly resonated in everyone''s head, but the one whose name was uttered felt it the least.


    ¡°Po-pow¡­ Pop-Pow¡­ Pow!¡±


    Lowell''s ear caught wind of a familiar sound: a series of consistent but small explosions that grew louder with the passage of time. Those little sounds appeared to be emanating from down the halls, behind his back.


    ¡°Pow! Pow! POW!"


    The sputter grew louder, now appearing to be originating from just down the corridor, yet Lowell did not turn to face the source. Instead, he stood still with his arms still crossed, his countenance betraying a sly smirk on his face.


    Lowell opened his mouth to speak, addressing the invigorator of the noise that stood a few metres behind him. ¡°Ah, Laurence! You finall-¡± His call remained short-lived; interrupted by the force of his mouth closing shut with force equivalent to that of a kick, oddly at the back of his head.


    The same dropkick sent him tumbling forward from his cross-legged stance, colliding into the wall that was decorated by the sunlit window he stood idly by. His face finally opposing that of the person''s that he called for, albeit upside down.


    ¡°Get it yourself, you lazy geezer!¡± Laurence spoke in an agitated but furious tone. Meanwhile the sputter of explosions that covered over any sound that had been made so far happened to be originating from his naked feet, and upon thorough observation, the noise didn''t exist from naught.


    What his feet were producing were an array of steady bursts of miniature short-lived explosions that held enough power to keep him elevated off the ground.


    He swiftly made one more surge with both of his feet, which were comparatively larger than the others, and flipped backwards. First landing into a handstand then pushing himself off the ground and landing on his feet.


    Standing up, the young guy was able to fully display his athletic physique; being of tall stature, his head was crowned with curly short black hair, he wore no shirt, and his figure was defined by the numerous severe battles and training regimens that had preceded this moment. His lower half was outfitted with black braies and no additional footwear.


    Lowell rose from his ludicrous position, briefly patting off any dust that may have befallen on his shoulders. As he lifted himself, his legendary reputation was evident in his numerous battle-worn scars and his tremendous figure; somehow managing to tower over the already statuesque Laurence who stood a few steps in front of him.


    He stood by the window, his white cloak shifting like smoke in the evening light. The fabric bore the marks of countless journeys, its charred edges a testament to battles fought and won. His tunic, wrapped tightly around his lean frame, acquired an accent of red, grey and mainly yellow. His lightly bearded face bearing a smile once more upon laying his eyes on the one he called for.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Laurence! Finally arrived I see!¡± He states in a loud but gruff tone, followed by an audible giggle. However, his delighted grin immediately faded, preluding his next words, "Where''s the meat?" He enquired, scratching his beard with his leather-gloved hands.


    Laurence stared at the old man, his calm demeanor at odds with the faint veins that surfaced on his temples and the deep furrow of his brows. ¡°You know,¡± he began, his voice steady but edged with exasperation, ¡°maybe you¡¯re going deaf¡ªit happens at your age.¡± He paused, letting the jab sink in, before his tone sharpened. ¡°But I already told you¡ªgo get it yourself!¡±


    Lowell''s placid demeanour contrasted sharply with Laurence''s rage, which seemed like night and day. Regardless of the tension, Lowell couldn''t help but giggle at this circumstance as he approached Laurence to give him a shoulder pat, ¡°Alright, alright, I will get it myself, my disrespectful pupil!¡±


    There was an air of foreboding whenever Lowell and Laurence stood side by side because, despite his height, he still towered over Laurence. And yet Laurence couldn¡¯t help but grow a sly blush on his cheeks after the pat on the shoulder, his respect overpowering his emotions.


    Lowell had not stopped and calmly walked past him, his every step carrying purpose. From his mouth echoed his words down the hall and eventually falling back to Laurence¡¯s ears, ¡°How about some grub? You and m-¡± His inquiry would fall on deaf ears, as it would be abruptly halted by a distressed man crossing the opening that harboured both of them.


    The fatigued man¡¯s gaze fell upon Lowell¡¯s unique figure, causing him to make a sudden break in his run. Immediately his head fell lower and with both he grabbed his knees, as a wave of exhaustion washed over the man; unable to overcome his profuse panting and swiftly make his intention known, he simply stood until he recovered his breath.


    During this brief pause, the two tall men were able to observe the guest¡¯s unusual attire. On his back he carried a woolen dark cloak, while underneath he bore a blue tunic that was pressed by a leather belt, bearing strange symbols intertwined with one another; the belt also helped hold the woollen pants in place. The last item that stuck out were his fur-coated boots, which contrasted sharply with Dopra''s warm temperature.


    The tired man eventually lifted his dampened head, coming face to face with a man of legendary status. The pressure was immense, and would only deepen as Lowell¡¯s complex mien mirrored back at him. It felt as if his tiredness never subsided.


    ¡°Ah? A guest¡­¡± Lowell spoke with a low tone, almost questioning the odd appearance. His visage, once again, contradicted his confused state of mind, portraying a sense of intimidation to the poor man, and the next words that he would hear would not assist them either.


    ¡°What do you think we should do with him, gramps?¡± Said Laurence, without bearing a second thought. Given further reason to be concerned, as if he had inadvertently crossed some imaginary border, he was certain it meant his demise. His face turned deathly pale, and his youthfulness washed away in mere seconds, as his mind raced over all the feats the great Lowell accomplished and which of them would be applied to him.


    ¡°PFF-¡± Lowell¡¯s spit-take served to relieve some of the tension in the atmosphere before he broke out laughing, ¡°HAHAHA! Do not phrase it like that!¡± He said in a loud, gruff voice. ¡°Need not be afraid, messenger of the Kalvas Kingdom! Please join us for lunch, we shall discuss there.¡±


    When the Kalvas man heard Lowell''s soothing and welcoming voice, his eyes brightened up, as if he had been granted a second opportunity of life. However, the sensation of bewilderment lasted throughout, and even increased when he realised Lowell was aware of his origins.


    ¡°Sir, I-¡± The messenger tried to speak but to no avail, as Lowell simply stormed off, leaving behind Laurence and him. The man,out of alternatives, turned to confront Laurence,his desperation being the lone feature that reflected on his face.


    He could only respond with a hefty sigh.


    - - -


    The tranquil sunset touched Dalhester, and the two were in perfect harmony, bathing the city in warm light. As the busy streets quieted and the bustle subsided, a few tiny areas of the town lit up, and those who did go out congregated around them. One noteworthy location was a little stand nestled away from the major roadways on the sidelines. There stood three distinct-looking individuals, serviced by a single standkeep.


    ¡°Crunch-munch-crunch¡±


    The one who stood the furthest left of the stand and seemingly taller than the others that gathered around it, was Lowell, he bit down on a skewer with a loud crunch, tearing off a hunk of fried chicken and chewing it noisily.


    ¡°Crunch-Crunch¡±


    *Translation: You two finally arrived?


    ¡°Oh? Yoeh twof finally arrived?¡±* Lowell said, chunks of chewed meat shooting out of his mouth. Laurence and the messenger could only watch Lowell''s nasty demeanour before realising what they were witnessing. The two remained unfazed, although for different reasons.


    ¡°Truly, the great are unshackled by manners,¡± Thought the Kalvas messenger, a hint of admiration and awe in his gaze.


    ¡°The old man doesn¡¯t give a shit.¡± Thought Laurence rationally, an accumulation of his past experience.


    The messenger bent his knee, lowering his head to confront the man of legendary status properly this time around. Despite his exhaustion washing away earlier, his fears remained persistent and were now bubbling to the surface as he was ready to say his next words. Perspiration began to wash down his forehead once more.


    ¡°Lowell, First Exarch, innovator and lord of many, thou who hast shaped the course of men¡¯s fate¡ªI, Osgar Haige, emissary of Kalvas, chosen by the will of my people, do beseech thee. The lords of Kalvas call upon Dopra¡¯s royal attendance.¡± He said and slowly closed his mouth, his mind becoming free of any more doubts.


    Lowell chewed one more chunk of meat before consuming it fully and responding accordingly, ¡°That¡¯s great Sir Osgar.¡± He said, pausing briefly to swallow his passing food thoroughly, ¡°But I do not hold a position of power in this herao.¡± Lowell said, nonchalantly.


    The man lifted his head in shock, his frowned expression betraying any and all emotion he felt at that moment. Laurence had observed the man¡¯s attempt at a formal request and could not help but sigh, his gaze carrying a hint of irritation. He boorishly let agape his lips and spoke in a passive-aggressive tone, ¡°I already let this man know that you were not part of any of that.¡± He said, giving Osgar a mean look, ¡°But he wouldn¡¯t believe it unless he heard it from you old coot.¡±


    ¡°That so..¡± Lowell responded briefly, before being handed a small ceramic cup with a transparent liquid within, resembling water. He gave a pithy look to the man who ran the stand and raised an eyebrow, ¡°What is this? Is there a drought?¡± His unamused tone cut through the man.


    However, the standman responded simply and concisely, ¡°This is sake sir, a beverage made from the fermented crops of this land.¡± He smiled and softly added, ¡°Have a try.¡±


    Meanwhile, Osgar, still distraught, decided to inquire from the pair, bits of information. ¡°And who m-may I contact?¡± He sheepishly asked, still haunted by his previous embarrassment. In response, Laurence gave the messenger one last angry gaze, his furrowed eyebrows revealing his inner thought process.


    However, he refused to let the poor man go so easy, so he simply added, ¡°Before I tell you, why don''t we sit and have a chat?¡± He remarked with a phoney smile, adding, ¡°You already wasted so much of my time walking you around, we might as well spend the rest of the day together!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a great idea Laurence! Howe will return by sunrise, so might as well.¡± Lowell exclaimed gleefully before downing the cup that he held in his hands, and giving off the noise of satisfaction. ¡°There are many things I would like to inquire about, Sir Osgar.¡± And with that, the two menacing figures that loomed above him sealed his fate.


    In hopeless retaliation, Osgar omitted, ¡°A-as you please¡­¡± His head sank once more, this time again for a different reason: defeat.