ã€ŠGalal: Horde Masterã€‹


 Galal 1

    The clang of metal. A breeze carrying the smell of sweat and blood and shit, mixing with and overcoming the natural scent of dirt and trees. The natural world did nothing to obfuscate the presence of Man, their clamor and jeers filling the once silent woods, claiming it for their own. Prey is ever comfortable in the midst of prey.

    The creatures known as Man trotted about a clearing where once there was only nature, setting about the creation of their makeshift cloth caves. Four wore tough iron, the rest leather, but all carried a sword or dagger or bow. Hunters, maybe. Galal didn¡¯t know. Galal didn¡¯t care.

    Humans meant food, but humans also meant danger, especially in number. Not easy prey to kill, no, but easy to steal from. At the center of their cloth village rested the smell of blood and meat, a carcass of elk. The third best meat in these woods.

    Galal studied the encampment, the position of each person, where they were looking. How long they looked away from the center. It seemed like just enough, a small opportunity to enter unseen and leave just the same. He wasn¡¯t one to deny opportunity. The men in tough iron were separated, focusing on the other humans or staring at their large yellow leaves, and once the final one looked away Galal made his move.

    He descended upon the encampment in a few swift hops and crouched low, the carcass of his future meal beside him. Galal crouched and grabbed ahold, a twinge of strain zipping through his arms and legs as he lifted it. Weakness born of hunger. He leapt once more as the elk rested upon his shoulder, and in the next moment he had left the humans behind.

    The trees separated themselves from his path as he ran through them, or at least it would seem to be the case with his speed. He dodged past each tree and continued onward with only the slightest encumbrance. Only the birds that could soar above the trees themselves were a match, though even the larger of their kind knew better than to follow one of Galal¡¯s kind.

    The shouting started well after he¡¯d left, in between mouthfuls of meat as Galal sat crouched beside his meal. An elk was a good haul. It would last until the next day, though after that he would need to hunt once again, though seeking a new area was needed. He was new to this one, and the presence of humans did not sit well with him.

    The light of day faded into darkness shortly after Galal finished what little he would eat for the day, and now sat in silence, eyes resting and sleep creeping in, the image of prey imprinting on his dreams.

    <hr>

    A single eye opened as the clinking of metal sounded in the night, accompanying the feeling of tightness around his neck. The rectangular pupil took in the sight for but a moment, a gathering of humans armed with swords and their leather and iron cloth, and Galal stood. A snap cried out into the night and Galal kneeled, brought low by the bite of something behind him. He turned to look, but was met with another sharp bite, this time across his snout.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The humans surrounding him spoke loudly, a mess of gibberish as far as Galal was concerned. Another blow struck him in the back, and this time he could turn his head just enough to see what had done it. More importantly, who. A man in green cloth carried a long, thin weapon, rope-like in appearance.

    Galal lurched as he turned, standing above the man in green in an instant. So small, humans were. He grabbed the man¡¯s arm, fingers wrapping all the way around, the flesh yielding and bones cracking as he squeezed. The man screamed as his arm was crushed, the sound grating on Galal¡¯s ears, and so he grabbed the man¡¯s head with his other hand and squeezed once again.

    The man¡¯s screams ceased as his soul passed to the other world and the gathering of men gasped and exclaimed in their foreign tongue. Another man stepped forward, sword drawn, his last mistake. Galal readjusted his grip on the corpse, grabbing it by the shoulder, lifted, and swung the body at the approaching man. The human disappeared from sight, his body launched off to the side, dead or injured but bloodied all the same. He could smell it, the blood. Each man¡¯s was different.

    The circle of humans took cautious steps, some retreating back, others moving forward. Galal twisted slowly, keeping his back in motion. A predator always attacked when it was confident, and nothing made a predator more confident than a turned back. Man after man stepped forward, swinging feint after feint. An unlucky one stepped too close, and Galal seized his arm, turning rapidly and swinging the man into the air. The man came down with a scream as another stepped toward Galal, this time coming from the back.

    Galal saw the uplifted ax before he could turn in full, and instead lashed out with a cloven foot, striking the man in the chest. The corpse launched back several feet, the man¡¯s war ax remaining on the ground in the spot he once was. Galal lifted it and gave a quick, cursory swing, both to test the weapon and to keep his foes at bay.

    Weapon in hand, Galal made use of the newly extended reach available to him and swung out, striking one man in the side of the neck, severing head form torso. The humans, quickly losing in number, backed away with frightful looks and exasperated curses. The four in tough iron had remained at back edges of the circle, always with two to the sides and one in back with another in front, moving in tune to Galal.

    The one in front of Galal called out in the human¡¯s tongue, a loud and incomprehensible call that signaled a hail of arrows. They dug into his skin, though just barely, and he gave a grunt as each one struck. He reach and pulled one from his should with his free hand, swinging the ax in his other to dissuade any would-be-approachers, and the men began to step back. Galal reached for another arrow, this one sticking from his arm, but his arm slowed as he reached, ceasing halfway and falling to his side, limp.

    Galal took a step forward, intent on pushing through the line of men and making an escape, yet instead fell to a single knee, collapsing to the ground, paralyzed. As the men cautiously approached his fallen form Galal¡¯s eyes closed.

 Nalmet 1

    The halls echoed with the occasional growls, howls, and roars of trapped beasts. Their cries of loneliness and rage did not perturb the Beastmaster, however. He was accustomed to their calls. Understood what they meant as well as any man would understand another. He was the Beastmaster, and seemingly half-beast himself when one considered his skills and appearance.

    The Beastmaster Nalmet gazed into the mirror in his office, first glancing at the assortment of books and decor and then at his own features. Though his face was clean shaven, his hair well kempt, he resembled a man only when clothed, body hidden beneath the robes he often wore. Underneath their fabric was a jungle of hair from every part of his body, from arms to legs to chest.

    Nalmet kept the mirror to remind himself at all times of what he was. Human though he felt, his body was not quite as certain.

    He turned at the knock, the large door to his office opening before he could speak. Rude as the action was, Nalmet knew better than to question an Artif.

    ¡°Ah, this is unexpected. What can I do for you, Liard?¡± The common pleasantries, though he¡¯d like to say some things more coarse. From the looks of Artif Liard, he shared the sentiment.

    ¡°It¡¯s about the beast.¡±

    ¡°Which one, might I ask?¡± He knew full well which one he meant, but it was fun to be difficult.

    ¡°The manbeast. You know the one.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the Khor. Yes, of course. I was going to go see it today, as a matter of fact. Would you like to come along? It¡¯s surely awoken by now.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no need for that. I¡¯m here on Radmel¡¯s behalf. The beast, could you train it?¡± Nalmet looked at the Artif, unsure about what expression to make, and instead licked his lips in thought.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°If you mean to tame the beast, I would recommend against it.¡±

    ¡°And why is that?¡± A stupid question. An Artif of all people should know.

    ¡°The Khor are not like other beasts, lord Artif. Their size is exceptional, and their body is half-man. That is not to even to mention their rarity. I know of no man who as laid eyes on one until recently, and few texts describe them.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s too much for you? Is that what you¡¯re saying, Beastmaster?¡± There was emphasis on his title, no doubt meant to cut him. And maybe it would have, if Nalmet were not so confident. He was the best, and even the best could do little when faced with the impossible.

    ¡°I cannot deny the accusation, lord Artif. This is very much unprecedented. I am doubtful there is a man who could outdo me, but even I am at a loss for ideas.¡± Nalmet sighed and tapped at the wooden desk. Though he had remarked at his doubtfulness, even Artif Liard was aware of Nalmet¡¯s reputation, his eyes glancing down in slight dejection.

    The beast was strong, no doubt, but could it listen to commands? Could it be broken? ¡°A question, if I may. What is it, exactly, that the High Artif would like me to do with the beast?¡± Liard looked up, a small sigh escaping him.

    ¡°He wants a war animal, something big and strong that can cut through a few dozen men and clear a way to the enemy¡¯s commander.¡± Hah! A war animal! If only new ground could be covered so easily.

    ¡°I can look after the beast, do what I can. But I¡¯ll need resources.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have them.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need men. Assistants, soldiers, people to transport the creature and to keep it confined and at bay.¡±

    ¡°All yours, to do with as you please.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯ll need a new location. The beastyard is too small for this endeavor. The beast will need open space, area to live and fight in.¡±

    ¡°What of the arena? Would that be acceptable?¡± Large area, indeed, and made for combat. Exceptional, with the exception of the fool who ran it.

    ¡°Could Bertold be convinced?¡±

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll be convinced, alright. He has no room to refuse.¡±

 Lady Uthain 1

    The morning air was crisp, a scent of dew about the plants upon the castle balcony. The grassy courtyard below was bereft of the flowers Lady Uthain had once loved, replaced by the sounds of mock battle and childish grunts. She did not entirely dislike it, being the doting older sibling that she was. Alas, she did still crave for those silent mornings, those peaceful moments between her and singsong voices of the birds.

    Lady Uthain leaned against the stone edge of the balcony, elbows down and hands holding her head as she watched Little Robb practice fencing below. The boy was skilled in many things, though never the best, and combat was no different.

    ¡°Keep at it, Robb!¡± She had waited for a lull in his practice, just enough for Robb to look up and wave before whichever instructor had come today pulled him back to practice. She smiled at the sight, and the memories it brought back up.

    ¡°Ah, fencing. Of course.¡± The voice was high and shrill, though not to the point of total unpleasantness. It¡¯s source was none other than Bethel, Lady Uthain¡¯s assigned maid, a woman as rotund as she was kind, and as kind as she was skilled at her job. Which was to say, she was a very rotund woman indeed.

    ¡°It¡¯s been so long.¡± Lady Uthain dreamt back to her childhood days, days filled with more running than a courier and more fencing than a soldiers. Days when being in a dress were for special occasions, rather than a constant affair.

    ¡°I could get us some brooms, my lady. Then we could have at it.¡± Lady Uthain giggled at the suggestion, as well as at the poking gestures Bethel made.

    ¡°Maybe one day, Bethel. Is there something you needed from me? If not, I¡¯d like to take a stroll to the Red Quarter.¡±

    ¡°Afraid so, my lady. Your uncle is calling for you.¡±

    ¡°What, no hints? It¡¯s not another courting dove, I¡¯d hope.¡± She¡¯d had quite enough of that for the year.

    ¡°No no, nothing like that my lady. Well, I don¡¯t believe so, anyway. Your uncle just said he wanted to speak with you for a moment.¡±

    Lady Uthain raised a single eyebrow and received a shrug in reply. ¡°I¡¯ll be on my way, then. Thank you Bethel.¡±

    ¡°No need to thank me, my lady. Tis my job, my lady.¡± Lady Uthain walked past her maid, flashing a quick smile that faded naturally as she left her room. The hallway was empty, the open windows allowing only enough light to travel by. The sun was up, but the hallway face west, leaving it cold enough to make her shiver slightly.

    Her uncle, Large Lord Robb, was a man of eccentricities, more so than herself, and the proof could be seen in the markings. The door, only four rooms down the hallway from Lady Uthain¡¯s own, was marked with the carvings of all the places her uncle had been, all the things he had seen. The top of the door was carved with images of men and women, some in armor and others naked, many given a coat of paint in such unusual colors as red and blue. The center of the door was carved in the image of buildings and mountains, the magnificent centerpiece being none other than a rendition of their very own castle, copied from the painting of the late Dirk Kellings. Lady Uthain had seen the man paint it herself, though that was when she was quite young and when Kellings was a man a foot and a half in the grave. Nonetheless, it was a beautiful work, and the carved rendition was nearly as perfect.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    The bottom was layered with rows and columns of animals, the last row incomplete, ranging from bears to tigers to creatures stranger still, many Lady Uthain had never seen herself. Of course, the bottom deserved special attention this morning, as the wooden outline of the last creature was discolored from the rest. Fresh, and newly carved.

    She knocked on the great door, always with a ginger touch. Silly, it may seem, but she did not wish to disturb the door, nor the adventures and sights upon its wooden flesh. When no call greeted her in return, she realized her touch was too ginger indeed, and so Lady Uthain knocked again with more confidence.

    ¡°Come in,¡± came the reply. Lady Uthain opened the door and took a careful step inside. The interior, much like the door itself, was a room that showed her uncles personality all too well. Every corner of the room contained some piece of unusual art, one of a melting building and another of a burning cat and many more besides, and everywhere she looked there was a mounted head of some beast or a suit of armor made from scales or straw or some other unusual material.

    ¡°You asked for me, uncle.¡± Large Lord Robb was not a man whose appearance fit his title, being a man of such short stature, but his work ethic was like no other. Even now, bent over his desk, he scribbled away at some letter or another, occasionally dipping the pen in the tiny bottle and carefully scribbling some more words.

    The man scribbled in silence, apparently forgetting his niece in the wake of some written thought. His head rose just she opened her mouth to call to him again. ¡°I¡¯m going on a trip. Would you like to join me?¡±

    To the point, as always, and as always forgetting the details. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a little more convincing than that, uncle.¡± She smiled at his nonchalant realization. She would accept his offer, of course, there was no doubt about that. She was, however, on bad terms with surprises.

    ¡°The Artif in Sansbrook, what¡¯s his name?¡±

    ¡°Liard, I believe.¡±

    ¡°Yes, him. He¡¯s found something that interests me. Some new beast, or so he tells me. I¡¯d like to take a look. Would you join me?¡±

    ¡°Of course, uncle. Need you ask at all?¡±

    ¡°I thought as much, but it is unbecoming of the King¡¯s brother to order his daughter around.¡±

    ¡°Unbecoming of the great Large Lord Robb? Why, that¡¯ll be the day.¡± She smiled as her uncle did. A little tease, something they both seemed to miss.

    ¡°We¡¯ll leave within the week, assuming you have no other business to attend to.¡± Large Lord Robb returned his focus to the papers upon his desk, unconcerned with her response. Her uncle, of all people, knew well enough as to her activities.

    ¡°We are quite in luck then. My duties as of late have been to watch idly as the pompous and the ill-minded attempt to court me.¡±

    ¡°Good for them that you¡¯re so frigid, then.¡± He gave a short chuckle, and she rolled her eyes.

    ¡°I am not frigid, uncle. The men who court me just so happen to lack that special quality a girl should look for.¡± He gave another chuckle, his eyes darting across the papers in front of him.

    ¡°Keep telling yourself that, my dear. It might have worked out for your mother, but you need to keep your expectations in line with reality.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes, because father was such a great man before becoming king.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Don¡¯t you know? He happens to be my brother. She should be delighted to be of my relation.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, the great Lord Robb, second of his name, unmarried and father of three. Good day uncle.¡± She gave a curtsy as she turned to the door, which for all its intricacies on the other side was, disappointingly, merely a block of wood on this one.

    ¡°Good day Lady Uthain. May your next courter be made of finer stuff.¡±

 Galal 2

    Cold air. Cold stone. Cold dirt. Cold iron. Skin radiated heat into the cool spring air, a perpetual fire encased in flesh and muscles. And as fire was encased in flesh, so too was the flesh encased by a stone prison. It was large, an open field of flat dirt, an open sky of blue and white above. It was a prison, one of stone with walls that reached farther than he could jump. On each side was a door of thick wood, easily broken with effort. Effort that would be wasted, as inside there were only more stone prisons with tall walls.

    Dirt still clung to his hands, some still embedded under his claws. He had dug away at the dirt near the wall, only to find his efforts wasted once again. The walls ran deep, and men had come with sharp ropes and struck at him until he had relented.

    A smell wafted through the air long before its source arrived, one of wet fur and flowers. He saw the smells bearer enter from above, walking through the carved holes that lined the area above the prison walls. The bearer of the mixed smells was well out of reach, even as he descended to the edge of the wall. In his hands was a bundle of yellow leaves, each neatly shaped and of the same size. He had seen many humans carry them around, staring at them as intently as a predator did prey. At first he had thought them odd for this quirk of theirs. What use was looking at leaves? He realized, of course, that they were not merely leaves. They were markings, ones discerned with the eyes. They told things to those who looked at them, just as those heard or smelled did.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    The man spoke aloud, his voice carrying across the field. They were nothing but gibberish, sounds that meant nothing to Galal, though he felt a twinge of familiarity with them. Galal listened to the words in silence, eyes focused on the lone man, just as he had done the time before. When he gave no further reaction the man put the bound leaves under his arm and walked through the carved hole, leaving Galal to solitude.

    While the smell of man began to fade, the smell of fur began to change, followed by the smell of blood. He breathed through his nostrils, the breath steaming in the air in a white cloud. Galal knew what was to come. He lowered his body, defensive. They were bringing a large one this time. Something more fierce, more confident. Muscles twitched in anticipation, and the sound of his own heart would have filled his ears had he not filtered it out, wary of the sounds of this new meal.

    Galal sat in silence, alone in his odd prison, eyes focused on the doors. It would come from there, as the other had before. As the sun broke into the tiny glimpse of sky his prison allowed, he looked up to it, its light smothering the shade and warming his skin. He hoped this new creature was tastier than the last.

 Nalmet 2

    The beast was crouched when he returned. Even crouched, the creature was of a formidable size. As he walked through the vomitorium Nalmet glanced at the two workers provided by Bertold. Neither seemed of astounding grace nor intellect. Worse, Nalmet could not personally attest to their loyalties. They had their advantages, however, namely in that they were expendable as far as he was concerned. His own men were far more valuable.

    Together, they lifted the bolts holding the wooden doors in place and used long wooden hooks to pull the doors apart. The beast, already watching the doors from the center, crouched lower. Nalmet sat, notebook and pen in hand.

    A lion came into vision as it walked toward the center, away from the wall that had obscured it. Lions were fierce creatures, and well larger than man. As it approached the beast in the middle it gave a roar, the sound reverberating throughout the colosseum. It was obvious who the victor would be.

    The beast was the first to strike, lashing out with a grabbing hand. It seized hold of the lion by its front leg, and in one quick motion the lion was airborne. In another it lay upon the dirt, chest cavity caved and broken, heart stopped, body lifeless. The Khor had won, and wasted no time in feeding upon the animal carcass. Nalmet thanked the Almighty for the distance between them, saving himself from the smell of blood.

    He scribbled the results in his notes, just as he¡¯d done during the previous tests. Lion, bear, wolves, elk, it mattered not to the beast. None could match its size, its strength. The beast stood bipedal at two and a half meters and weighed over a hundred-eighty kilograms. It could toss man and animal alike, or otherwise rip them apart if it was so inclined.

    Even its intelligence was remarkable, having killed several eagles and other birds by throwing stones. And its diet. Nalmet cursed whatever dark machinations were responsible for its hunger.

    ¡°I¡¯m done for today,¡± he called out. The two servants bowed to him, Nalmet returning their gesture with a casual raised-hand salute. He turned from them and began to exit the colosseum, notebook tucked neatly under his arm, hidden behind his long robes.

    The walls of the stone corridor were smooth to the touch, well maintained as all aspects of the colosseum were. While its proprietor was a great many things that Nalmet would not dare speak outside of good company, he was also a fastidious man, one who abhorred carelessness. Traits that forced Nalmet to put up with him.

    Standing before a door he thought best built for children, he gave three knocks in quick succession. ¡°Come in.¡± Opening the door, Nalmet did the best he could to crouch through the entrance of Bertold¡¯s office.

    ¡°Need your door be so short,¡± he quipped. The room itself was plenty tall, as was the corridor, leaving the door alone as an obstacle for the ever tall Nalmet. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it just humble ya?¡± the man, Betrold, said with a sneering smile. The man was was on the shorter side, but not to such an extreme extent as Nalmet was tall, perhaps only a few centimeters shorter than average.

    ¡°If that¡¯s the word you¡¯d like to use. About the Khor,¡± he began.

    ¡°It¡¯s an abomination. If I wasn¡¯t bein¡¯ paid what I am to house the damned thing I¡¯d try to kill it or make a spectacle of it.¡±

    ¡°While that¡¯s all well and good, I would like to discuss keeping it alive and, more importantly, I would like your help training it.¡±

    ¡°Fucking Artifers,¡± he spat. ¡°The beast will be the end of us if we aren¡¯t careful.¡±

    ¡°Precisely. That is why I¡¯d like to test its full capabilities.¡± Bertold raised a single eyebrow, a half-smirk slowly growing on his face as contemplated the proposal.

    ¡°What¡¯d ya have in mind?¡±

    ¡°What we need now is something bigger. Stronger, more fierce.¡± The half-smirk became a grin, Bertold¡¯s eyes flashing gold from the afternoon light as he adjusted himself in his chair. Nalmet thought the color fitting, considering where the conversation would soon be turning into.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it if we show it off.¡± Nalmet shook his head. At least the greedy bastard was up-front about it.

    ¡°A large audience could hav-¡± he stopped as Bertold held up a hand.

    ¡°I know, I know. I don¡¯t mean for anything big. I have some special customers who I bet¡¯d like to see the beast, and they¡¯d be willing to pay. We could split the cash, save a little on the side for equipment and feed. Almighty knows the beast¡¯ll eat a soldier¡¯s salary in months time.¡±

    The deal was good, as was to be expected. Bertold loved money more than most loved their mothers. Still. ¡°What kind of creatures do we have on offer?¡±

    ¡°On hand I have a sersene and a few madrag.¡±

    Nalmet shook his head. ¡°Bigger. Maybe a pink sessel?¡±

    This time it was Bertold who shook his head. ¡°Too costly. I can¡¯t afford the expense unless the sponsors decide to open their wallets a bit wider.¡±

    ¡°What of a thorg?¡± Bertold¡¯s eyebrows raised. He put both hands flat on his desk as he leaned in, his voice a whisper, as if he could no longer trust the walls themselves.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid that that is illegal, my dear Beastmaster.¡± Bertold gave a quite unsubtle wink.

    ¡°Ah, is that so? I must have forgotten¡± Nalmet said with a shrug. He hadn¡¯t, of course, and Bertold¡¯s reaction gave him pause. Their entire dealings had technically been illegal.

    Bertold leaned back, eyes shifting across the room, looking for assailants and eavesdroppers that weren¡¯t there. When his eyes settled on Nalmet once again, he narrowed them, face stern. ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m beginning to feel sick.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite sudden,¡± Nalmet said. He understood what was meant. ¡°But I understand. Ah, before I go, I¡¯d like a few weapons, if you can spare them.¡±

    ¡°Done,¡± Bertold replied, a hand shooing him away. ¡°Go to the armory. An quickly, I¡¯m afraid my illness may be quite violent.¡±

    Nalmet stood and bowed, and as he left the room he stopped for a moment as he closed the door behind him. He was alone in the corridor, and there was no one to be seen in either direction. At one time he had thought the walls solid stone. A thought he would presume no longer. He walked away from the door, heading to his own quarters, ever conscious of his pace. The walls were listening, it seemed, and he would give them nothing.

 Galal 3

    Cold. Hungry. Bored. Hand reaching high, Galal stood at the bottom of the wall of stone. As the hand fell to his side he crouched, muscles tightening under the skin and fur. His body sailed up the wall as the energy was released, fully extended from hands to feet as Galal reached for the top. By all standards an impressive feat, yet still, one of failure.

    He fell, hand against the wall, a red smear marking what he had accomplished. Looking up, he snarled, a heat flaring up within. He hadn¡¯t made it even halfway. Galal looked at his bloodied hand. There was nothing to wrap it in in this prison. He could only close the hand into a fist as he walked away from the wall, back to the center. The man of fur and flowers was approaching again.

    The man would repeat his daily oddity, bellowing unknowns to his singular audience for a reason Galal couldn¡¯t comprehend. He stood atop the wall of stone, marked leaves in hand, and spoke, voice carrying across the open prison with an echo.

    ¡°Tree!¡± Galal¡¯s neck twitched upward slightly as focused on the word. The man¡¯s sight must have been impressive, as he seemed to catch on and spoke again. ¡°Where tree?¡±

    Galal¡¯s head tilted to the side. There are no trees here, he thought. Then he said as much. ¡°There are no trees here,¡± he called out, the sound of his voice booming throughout the open area. The man flipped through his leaves, turning them over, going back and forth in search of something. Finally, he called out again, the sound barely recognizable.

    ¡°Deer,¡± Galal called out. The man repeated the words quietly, nodding.

    ¡°Large deer in the north,¡± the man said. Galal again tilted his head. So what, he thought. What did deer matter to him now? The man yelled out again. ¡°Teach talk,¡± he said, pointing to himself.

    ¡°Bring deer, then talk,¡± he replied. The man again looked through his marked leaves, finally nodding to himself when he had found what he was looking for. His quick search continued for another moment, then he looked up.

    ¡°Good.¡± Galal did not respond, and the man questioned him no further. Instead, the man waited, the air slowly filling with the scent of another beast. The men with sticks came soon after, releasing the bolts on the door and swinging it open, revealing several creatures barely half the size of the one he had killed yesterday.

    The furless creatures spotted Galal almost immediately, bolting from their little enclosure. They approached recklessly, heading straight toward him. In response, Galal ran to the side, causing them to slow and turn their bodies as he circled them, the distance closing between them with each step. The creatures turned simple mindedly, continuing to turn and face him directly, their position unchanged even as Galal approached.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    As he closed in on them he stepped too close, the smaller of the creatures spitting out a barbed tongue that constricted his leg, the barbs piercing the skin under his fur. Galal grabbed the barbed tongue of the beast and pulled in one quick motion, ripping the tongue from its mouth. It bellowed in pain, blood dripping from its mouth, its compatriots lashing out with their own tongues, only to hit air as Galal retreated.

    Tossing the barbed tongue to the side, the numbness began to set in. Pink lashes flied through the air, swiping at the space around Galal as he dodged them and backed away, each one closer than the last as his left leg began to slow. As he tried to dodge another lash, the nerves in his leg gave out completely, the leg unresponsive as the tongue wrapped around it and pulled him in.

    The other beast did the same to his arm, their tongues no doubt seeping their poison deeper into his blood. He wrapped his arm around the barbed tongue and did as he had before, ripping the appendage from its source, a spray of blood splattering the ground as he did so. The arm had started the numbing process as well, and Galal could do little than to hurry and grasp the last tongue, pulling with what force he could. The tongue stayed even as he pulled with the full might of his numb arm.

    It hit him then. With his free arm, untainted by the poison, he grabbed hold of his own hand, squeezing it to gain a grip on the tongue and to avoid the barbs. With a quick jerk, he detached the tongue from its source.

    The creatures all bellowed in pain, their heads shaking. Galal hopped toward them, intent on finishing them off, and fell to the ground as his leg slipped from under him. With his only working arm, he immediately began to crawl toward the three oversized lizards. They didn¡¯t move, seemingly stuck in place as they cried out, and as Galal came upon one he reached under its head, tearing at its throat with his claws.

    He moved on to the next as the simple minded lizard lay dying, its body spasming as death overcame it. He repeated the action with the other two, leaving him alone amidst blood and lizard carcasses.

    As the sun reached the opposite side of the portal of sky open to him, the numbness was all but completely faded. Galal ate the lizard flesh as the sunlight began to fade, opting for the limbs and the outer flesh, avoiding the organs within. There was no telling if they were poisonous, but it was the only food available to him, and so he ate it. The flesh itself lacked the pungent taste he was used to, the blood almost sweet in comparison to that of an elks.

    As he finished the meal of meat, blood, and marrow, Galal gathered the remains of the carcasses and moved them to his makeshift graveyard, no more than a pile by the wall. He tossed the bones and organs on top, the pile of bones and refuse collapsing slightly at the new found weight.

    He had fought, as he had always done. He had won, as he had always done. Each day brought victory. Each day brought strength. But even a champion must be wary.

 Lady Uthain 2

    Argyle light filled the carriage as a window of rather small proportions was opened, the window itself merely a series of tiny openings within the wooden frame of the carriage. One beam of light landed blinded Lady Uthain¡¯s left eye, her head moving slightly to avoid it.

    ¡°Apologies, my lady,¡± the man said, bowing his head.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± she said, shaking her head. ¡°It was becoming quite dreary in here. We could use the light.¡±

    The man gave his thanks as he lifted his head, turning back to Large Lord Robb as he continued their previous conversations. ¡°The traders are becoming more disgruntled every season.¡±

    Lord Robb nodded. ¡°The rise in taxes has come at a bad time, and with Mythel declaring war there¡¯s little reason for them to stay.¡±

    ¡°Which is why we should lower the foreign trade tax for the upcoming season. The traders would flock to from Darstin at such an opportunity.¡± Lady Uthain looked from her uncle to the man, the Trade Minister Plebus, her gaze darting back and forth as she followed the conversation.

    She enjoyed such conversations, those of politics and trade and everything else. They were meaningful, unlike so much of her life. Alas, being the second princess did not award her with a position that allowed her to become involved, and her father was more likely to see her bound to her room than to the council or the courts or whatever other organizations were needed to run a kingdom.

    As her gaze settled upon her uncle once again, his time to speak having arrived, his own eyes met hers. ¡°I received word yesterday that your father is already quite infuriated with me.¡± She sighed. Of course he was.

    ¡°He¡¯ll just have to put up with it,¡± she said with a shrug. Lord Robb gave a warm chuckle.

    ¡°That he will. What of you, Lady Uthain? Care to join our conversation?¡±

    ¡°I have no stake in the matters of trade, dear uncle, but I will give my opinion if you¡¯d like.¡±

    ¡°That would be a splendid idea. I¡¯ve heard much from your uncle,¡± Plebus interjected, not one to be left out. ¡°Though the old coot has led me astray before.¡±

    ¡°Old coot? I¡¯m your senior by only a few months,¡± Robb scowled.

    ¡°Well, I can only comment on what I¡¯ve heard, but from my understanding Mythel has only declared ownership over the fields north of Sinestolk. It¡¯s a small claim, and I¡¯d not expect the war to last long. The war likely won¡¯t be large enough to affect prices substantially.¡± A small knot formed in her stomach as she spoke. It was not often that she gave her opinion, and doing so grinded on her nerves.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°What would you suggest, then?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps a more targeted tax decrease. Darstin still maintains an outdated war tax, and the sale of foodstuffs and general goods are going to become costly. If we vastly lower taxes for those specific goods, as opposed to more general tax decrease, we could offset any losses from this years harvest.¡±

    Plebus nodded along as she spoke, and only at the end did she realize he had already thought of her plan. ¡°It is a conservative plan. I am fond of them myself. What about you, Lord Robb?¡± Her uncle had been listening just as intently, a wispy smile on his face.

    ¡°I am in agreement with Lady Uthain, at least on this matter. The kingdom isn¡¯t in the position to exacerbate the war, at least not currently.¡±

    ¡°You would be the one to exacerbate a war, uncle.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Plebus affirmed. Lord Robb gave a look of incredulity.

    ¡°Why I never¡­¡± he said. ¡°I haven¡¯t been involved in war affairs in nearly five years.¡±

    ¡°Uncle, need I remind you of the Solstice?¡± He clasped his hands together, eyes looking away from her.

    ¡°You do not,¡± he said simply. Lady Uthain gave a shake of her head as she smiled. Few could cause a war by bedding a neighboring king''s daughter, but only her uncle could cause one by bedding his daughter and mother, on the same night no less.

    The conversation entered a lull as her uncles face reddened in embarrassment, and Lady Uthain could do little but look to the outside world. They had been travelling through flat plains since the start of their journey, and she wondered if the scenery would change. It was a month long journey to Sansbrook, after all, and even now she mostly clueless as to the point of this endeavor.

    ¡°I had almost forgotten. May I ask, uncle, what this trip is for?¡± He was visibly surprised, either at the contents of the question or its suddenness, possibly both. He paused in thought only a moment.

    ¡°One of the more ambitious Artifs has found something of interest to me,¡± he said.

    ¡°That seems quite vague, uncle.¡±

    He shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s a beast, Lady Uthain,¡± he finally came clean. ¡°Not one we¡¯ve seen before, at least not in a long while. The Artif has found a Beastmaster called Nalmet who has notes on it. He¡¯s been responsible for taming the beast, but from the messages I¡¯ve received the beast is¡­ particular.¡±

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± she asked.

    ¡°It likes to kill. It¡¯ll kill anything that gets near it, and supposedly makes for quite a good show.¡±

    ¡°Ah, that does sound quite like you,¡± she said.

    Lord Robb harrumphed. ¡°I¡¯m not so easily stereotyped, am I?¡± he asked Plebus. Plebus could only chuckle in response, causing Robb to grumble to himself.

    ¡°What does the beast look like?¡± She still hadn¡¯t gotten an image of it, leaving her nothing to play with in her mind.

    ¡°I had the creature etched onto my door. Did you see?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I had noticed. Is that really what it looks like?¡± She could remember a few of its details, a thing half beast and half man. Something she thought to be from fairy tales.

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve been told. I¡¯ve not yet seen the beast, but it had better live up to the lip service the Artif has been giving it, let me tell you.¡±

    She looked out the window once again, her imagination stirring a bit at the thought of the beast.

 Nalmet 3

    Candle light began to fade as pen met paper, details and instructions inscribed at breakneck pace. Night had since fallen, the windows in the room providing no more light than the moonless sky above would allow. Pen dipped into ink one last time, stroking the page as signature was put to paper. Finished for the night, Nalmet put the pen back in its resting spot as he moved to his own, falling into a bed of rough cotton and feathers.

    Only a moment seemed to pass between night and morning, the light barely noticeable as the sun began its daily rise. Nalmet sat up at once, aching and tired as if no time had passed at all, collecting his papers and books as he left his quarters. The corridor, as always, was empty, lifeless. An occurrence that was expected, what with the involvement of a High Artif and various nobles, but still. Being alone set Nalmet on edge. He was a man of life, and he needed to be around it, whether human or otherwise.

    These days it seemed his only source of communication was with the Khor. Entering the colosseum he saw everything as he had expected. The galleries were empty, the field below situated with a single occupant and the pile of bony remains it had been building.

    ¡°Food!¡± the beast called out. It had grown more communicative over time, but was still no more sociable.

    ¡°Question first!¡± he called back. The beast did not respond, waiting for his question. ¡°Can you use sword?¡± The language of the Khor was difficult to learn. It was not a language that could be easily written, being entirely spoken, and he had needed to rewrite the notes of his forebears.

    The beast shook its head, an action it had begun to mimic from watching Nalmet and the other workers. It was smart, as he¡¯d expected, likely as smart as any human. ¡°I only use ax.¡± An ax, eh? A war ax, perhaps?

    ¡°You want ax?¡± he asked. The beast nodded, followed by a grunt of acceptance. ¡°Then don¡¯t kill!¡± The beast tilted its head, but otherwise did not respond as Nalmet undid the latch on the colosseum door, using a long wooden hook to slowly open the door.

    He left the colosseum then, entering the first door he met on his way down the corridor. The door opened to a flight of stairs, descending into the room below. The room was long, circling around about a quarter of the colosseum, at the center of which was his goal.

    When man or beast were to be fought in the colosseum, they were first transported to this room, and then lowered into the compartment before him, no more than a square shaped hole with an open door below. Fighters, much as he was doing now, would lower themselves into the square holding area, though unlike his current state they wielded any number of weapons or armor for defence. Of course, they did not receive a ladder to return from, as Nalmet had, unless they won their match. Nalmet, by comparison, only needed to outrun a monster.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Stepping out onto the field, he could not help but take in a sharp breath. He had only seen it from above, where it looked large indeed, more so than he had thought reasonable. Now, as he entered the arena, it felt so much larger. At the same time, so did the Khor.

    The beast remained at the center of the arena, but even from a distance Nalmet was intimidated, a fearful sweat beginning to glaze his brow as he approached. It was foolish, perhaps, but there was a reason. A reason he had since forgotten in the face of imminent danger.

    The Khor was gigantic, a wall of flesh that stood taller than any creature Nalmet had encountered. Nalmet was not a short man, and in fact in his adult life had never met man nor animal taller than himself. In the face of a true giant, Nalmet could not help but feel small, and smaller still as his body sucked itself in.

    ¡°Why come here?¡± the Khor said. Its voice was deep, deeper than any man''s, a darkness unto itself that seemed to overlay the air. Its presence was suffocating, the smell of blood and pheromones filling each breath as Nalmet tried to gather his thoughts. This was not a beast, but a champion.

    ¡°I come talk,¡± Nalmet choked out, the words barely above a whisper. The Khor let out a rumble, the sound so deep and booming it barely registered in Nalmet¡¯s mind. A chuckle.

    ¡°What want, human?¡± Not understanding the last word, Nalmet flipped page by page of his hand-written dictionary as he searched. Human. A good word to know.

    ¡°Want train you,¡± he said. The rumbling began again as the Khor chuckled.

    ¡°Want train me? How?¡± Nalmet had asked himself that same question.

    ¡°I give ax. You kill with ax,¡± he said. ¡°Work with human.¡±

    ¡°Want strong iron cloth. Want man language.¡± Looking through his book, Nalmet realized it was a demand for¡­ something. More importantly, it wanted to learn.

    ¡°Why?¡± he asked. His heart was beating harder in his chest with each moment. The Khor scared him, though now for reasons he hadn¡¯t even contemplated.

    ¡°Want conquer.¡± Such simplicity, an answer that any man could have guessed. An childish answer in the hands of man, a daring proposition from the mouth of a king. And a terrifying possibility from this being.

    Nalmet nodded. ¡°Can teach man language. Strong iron cloth later.¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± the Khor said, mimicking Nalmet as it nodded in turn. It mimicked humans, assimilated their mannerisms. It learned. It was not a beast, and as sweat continued to seep from his pours, Nalmet felt excitement. ¡°Have name?¡±

    Nalmet smiled at the question, another twinge of excitement passing through. ¡°Nalmet,¡± he replied, and the Khor nodded.

    ¡°I am Galal.¡±

 Nalmet 4

    ¡°You gave the beast an ax?¡± Bertold, for once, was in Nalmet¡¯s office, and the man was doing all he could to lean over his desk, trying as he might to close the distance between their faces. A man who could only scare a particularly cowardly mouse, and who Nalmet not help himself but to imagine that his feet were not even touching the floor as he leaned.

    ¡°You have every right to be concerned, but let me assure you-¡± he started.

    ¡°I need something more than words, Nalmet.¡± He had known the interruption was coming. Nonetheless, he could not help but feel a well of anger rise within his chest.

    ¡°Come see the Khor, then.¡± Bertold slumped down from the desk as his face began to pale. He wouldn¡¯t do it, that was obvious. Galal scared him. He scared all of them. ¡°It is under control, Bertold.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll believe it when I see it,¡± he said. It would be a long ways off before Bertold built that kind of confidence, and they both knew it. Not after it caved a bull¡¯s head in with a single kick.

    Bertold sat back into a chair. He looked around the room, eyes lazily taking in the scenery of Nalmet¡¯s office. Nalmet wasn¡¯t sure if he was looking for something in particular, or if he was losing focus for one reason or another.

    His eyes continued their confused quest even as he spoke. ¡°A few spectators saw the fight with the madrag,¡± he said. Nalmet raised an eyebrow. He hadn¡¯t been told, nor had he seen them. If they could be hidden so easily, he would need to be more alert. ¡°They¡¯re willing to pitch in for a brown sessel. The pink ones are too costly.¡±

    A brown sessel, eh? They were the smaller variety, but potent foes nonetheless. Even trained knights would have difficulty with them. But what was a trained knight to a Khor? ¡°That¡¯s quite good. I¡¯ve been itching to see such a fight.¡±

    ¡°Oh, a spectator I see. I didn¡¯t think you the type.¡±

    ¡°I am a Beastmaster. Seeing what my beasts can do is always quite the thrill.¡± It was a lie, though not fully. Galal had his particular interest.

    ¡°Then the sessel should give you quite the show.¡±

    ¡°That is indeed my hope. Ah, what of the other one? That should give quite a good show as well.¡± Bertold¡¯s eyes narrowed, then relaxed just as quickly.

    ¡°I¡¯m awaiting a rather prominent guest, actually,¡± he said.

    ¡°Oh.¡± A governor, perhaps? Or maybe High Artif Ramdel?Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Yes, yes. Artif Liard has been rather ambitious, and it seems he¡¯s made friends with the king¡¯s brother.¡±

    ¡°Lord Robb?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. It seems we¡¯ll have quite a bit of support.¡± Nalmet stroked his chin, pulling at the tiny fibers of hair as he thought. Royal support could mean many things.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to speed things along, then.¡±

    Bertold gave him a confused look. ¡°What do you mean? Speed what along?¡±

    ¡°Did Liard not tell you? He wants to use the Khor on the battlefield.¡± He smiled and shrugged as Bertold gave him a comically incredulous look.

    ¡°A beast like that? On the battlefield?¡± He shook his head, as if to say the idea was beyond logic. Maybe it was. Even now, Nalmet couldn¡¯t be certain. He was only certain that the results were interesting. There was no thought as to whether they would be good or bad.

    ¡°It¡¯s a funny thing, isn¡¯t it? Playing their game.¡± Bertold took a breath as his face morphed through a series of emotions, emotions that settled on anger.

    ¡°Nalmet, we¡¯re smart men, are we not?¡±

    ¡°We are.¡± It was the truth, there was no need to deny it, though he kept secret about whom he thought the smarter of the two.

    ¡°Why do smart men, such as ourselves, act as pawns, then? Don¡¯t you think it a bit of a waste of our talents?¡±

    ¡°We are smart men indeed, Bertold,¡± though I more so, he thought. ¡°But it is not a waste unless we allow our positions to be wasted.¡± Bertold stared, waiting to be hand fed the rest. It was one of the reasons Nalmet could barely stand him, and most others. They couldn¡¯t think for themselves. ¡°More oft than not, those commanding us give us their trust.¡± He emphasized the last word, and a modicum of realization seemed to inch its way onto Bertold¡¯s face.

    Whether he understood what Nalmet had intended or not, he seemed content enough to move on with the conversation. ¡°So what do you need for the beast?¡±

    Fingers interlocked, Nalmet rested his chin upon his hands as he performed the act of a man in thought. He knew well enough what was needed. Soldiers. Weapons. Armor. The Khor was a champion, and he would make a warrior in due time.

    ¡°Remind me again, is slavery legal in Sansbrook?¡±

    ¡°What, you want to throw some humans at it? Sadistic bastard, aren¡¯t ya? Slavery¡¯s legal, but it¡¯s regulated in Sansbrook. Can¡¯t use them for fodder.¡±

    ¡°What about criminals? The ones slated for the gallows and whatnot?¡±

    ¡°I can get them, if you really need them. Not many, mind, but I can get them.¡± Useful as ever.

    ¡°They need to be equipped. Nothing big, just a few swords, maybe some leather shields.¡±

    ¡°What about quality? I¡¯m not keen on wasting good leather on dead men.¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, rusted swords and torn shields will do.¡± Bertold nodded, his face contorting in thought as he counted the costs of it all.

    ¡°Anything else, then?¡±

    ¡°Out of curiosity, how many men can you get?¡±

    ¡°Between five and ten, assuming you want them within the week.¡±

    Nalmet nodded. ¡°That will do.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be on my way.¡±

 Lady Uthain 3

    Sansbrook wasn¡¯t quite what she¡¯d thought it¡¯d be. She was too used to the Capital, and the walls of stone that surrounded it, protected it. They seemed to reach to the heavens when standing at their base, and were so thick that a house could be buried within and no one would know.

    But the walls here were in sad form, barely above the height of a man. Not to mention they barely surrounded anything, acting more as a divider between the peasants and the merchants than anything else. She couldn¡¯t help but look displeased, though she could tell from the faces of Plebus and her uncle that they would rather avoid the discussion.

    The carriage passed through a gate into the walled section of the city, the inside of which was closer to her expectations. Though more bare than the Capital, Sansbrook was still filled with every variety of commodity and entertainment, and looking from her window Lady Uthain was reminded of images of the Red Quarter. A smith, a tailor, street dancers, and stalls of food and trinkets lined each side of the carriage. Sansbrook was a city that made its coin from tourism.

    ¡°Who governs Sansbrook, again?¡± The basic courtesies of being a royal of the Uthain family were ingrained in her, and her hand itched at the thought of the letter she would write. It was paramount, her father had said, that each city be a prepared and wonderful host to those of the royal family, even when unexpected, and that the their leaders should be written to whenever their cities were visited.

    ¡°High Artif Ramdel is the provisional governor until the elections. Artif Liard is the favored candidate, currently.¡±

    ¡°Ah, so you¡¯re playing benefactor again, I see.¡± Nepotism at its finest.

    ¡°Don¡¯t put it that way. Liard is ambitious. I won¡¯t say he deserves the position, but he¡¯s worked damn hard for it.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve taken quite a liking to him, lord Robb,¡± Plebus interjected. ¡°Should I worry about being replaced?¡±

    ¡°Nonsense, Plebus. I couldn¡¯t replace you even if I wanted to.¡±

    ¡°Oh, is that so,¡± Plebus replied, his tone lacking any pretense of belief.

    ¡°It¡¯s true, dammit.¡± Plebus didn¡¯t reply, still wholly unconvinced, and Lady Uthain focused her attention to the outside world once again. A man in purple clothes did a cartwheel, moving in circles as a lady in blue jumped atop him. She walked along, the man¡¯s hands and feet meeting her steps as she walked above him, her legs moving so fluidly it was if she was held up by a rope.

    ¡°How long before we see the beast?¡±

    ¡°Patience,¡± her uncle said. ¡°We won¡¯t be able to see it today. Tomorrow, perhaps, but we won¡¯t be able to see it fight for a few more days yet.¡±

    Patience? She had begun to run out of it. The trip had been dull, and excitement existed just outside her grasp. She had become a starving man taunted with food, and Lady Uthain could only take the abuse for so long.

    She sighed. It was a flaw of hers, own she was knowledgeable of and took pains to diminish. Removing it altogether seemed impossible, though she tried still. From the window she watched nearly every variety of entertainer or tradesman, as well as many people of various wealth and status. As the carriage rolled up to the colosseum she even made note of a Domicus, though even clothed in a full suit of resplendent armor that shined with the brilliance of the reflected sun, he attention was drawn to the colosseum itself.

    The building, though no more than a giant circular structure, was giant indeed. It was monumental, the walls reaching almost as high as the tallest towers of the capital, the buildings breadth going so far in each direction as to seem flat as they approached. Built with a marble and copper, it was a lustrous white that gleamed in the sunlight, the copper having long since faded to a deep green, the metal itself seeming etched into the wall to form a portrait of man and beast in the depths of battle.

    ¡°Quite impressive,¡± Plebus spoke, breaking her trance.

    ¡°Indeed. I feel like I shall quite like it here,¡± she replied, eyes pulled back to the monument.

 Nalmet 5

    The sun warmly caressed the skin of his face. There was no wind to speak of, but he felt it unnecessary on this day, the heat of the sun failing to puncture his robe. If anything, it was likely quite cold, but he was always dressed head-to-toe in his robes, which provided more than enough heat.

    The royal carriage pulled up to colosseum entrance, where Nalmet and Bertold, along with his servants and some knights, awaited. The carriage itself was without a doubt upper class, made of smooth, dark wood and decorated with an abundance of markings and artwork. The Uthain family seemed to be quite fond of artistry, it seemed.

    The four horses that led the carriage were of the finest breed, each better groomed than most men, their coats shining in the light of day. They were healthy and well trained, with a fine musculature that exhibited the best traits for carriage horses. Indeed, they were a royal breed specifically bred by the Beastmaster Luthin for the royal family, and had since come to be named after the man. Had he been alive, Nalmet would have very much liked to meet him.

    The horses stopped, and the carriage with it, the knights accompanying them approaching to form two walls of armor. The one closest to the carriage, the resident Domicus of Sansbrook, knocked the carriage door. Words were exchanged, albeit out of ear shot, and then he opened the door.

    The first man to exit was of average height and build, though balding, the hairs on the sides of his head beginning to grey and whiten with age. From what Nalmet could remember of Bertold¡¯s descriptions, this would have been Trade Minister Plebus, the richest man outside of the royal family. Of course, he had heard rumors that he may have, in fact, been even richer than the royal family, but when trying to match countless wealth against countless wealth it was hard to say.

    The second individual was a man of smaller stature, in both height and build. His stature was straight and proud, but the man himself was thin. Clean shaven he could be mistaken for a adolescent from a distance. His hair was full, a deep black that brought images of a moonless night, and it was obvious he was a man who cared much about his appearance. The king¡¯s brother had much to prove.

    As he moved out of the way, Nalmet noticed that the carriage held another occupant. As she stepped from the carriage, her features became more clear. Her hair was a mix of golden blonde and red, her face and figure well formed, and her dress a simple emerald, though still decorated with a minor assortment of frills and laces. Nalmet could guess as to who she was, but her appearance here was quite an interesting surprise.

    They approached slowly, and Nalmet stepped forward to greet them. ¡°Welcome Trade Minister Plebus, Lord Robb, Lady Uthain. I hope your trip did not bring you any trouble?¡±

    Each one returned with a polite smile, though Plebus was the one to speak. ¡°It was quite good. Clear weather greeted us the entire way.¡±

    ¡°Ah, quite good, then,¡± Bertold interjected. ¡°Would you care to view the city, or perhaps have a meal?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to walk about the town for a bit first, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± Robb said, stretching his arms. ¡°I could use the exercise.¡±

    Plebus shared the desire. ¡°I could make use of my legs as well. Care to join us, Bertold?¡±

    ¡°I would be much appreciative. And what of you, Lady Uthain? Care to join us?¡±

    Lady Uthain looked between each of the men there, finally settling upon Nalmet. She did not ponder long before giving her response. ¡°I shall galavant about the town some other time. For now, I¡¯d like to see some of the animals held here. I¡¯ve heard they can be very exotic.¡±

    Nalmet nodded. ¡°That is certainly true. Bertold has procured many fine creatures, and I have brought a few myself for study.¡±

    ¡°I will not be a bother, will I?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not, Lady Uthain. It would be my pleasure to show you. A Beastmaster has no pride but for the beasts he cares for.¡± Her smile widened for but a moment. It seemed the second princess of the kingdom was an animal lover. Nalmet could not fault her.

    ¡°Then, shall we depart?¡± Bertold said. Lord Robb nodded, following behind as they left with due haste, Bertold no doubt having become impatient. A fortune sat before him, and yet it was not quite his.

    ¡°Shall we, my lady?¡± Nalmet said, gesturing toward the colosseum. She nodded, following behind as Nalmet led the way. Lady Uthain walked by his side, perhaps no more than a step back, as they traversed the ill-lit corridors, though soon enough they reached the door leading to the bestiary. Marked with only the etchings of a lion, the door was otherwise inconspicuous and easily missed. It had taken Nalmet three nights to memorize its location on the outer wall, having missed it time and again.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    As he unlocked the door, the musk of fur and dirt and the various brown droppings of all manner of beasts struck his nose. He breathed deeply, taking the smell into him. He long grown used to it, having found it best to accept that the smell existed and to take it for what it was, though as the musk of animal struck Lady Uthain he was reminded of how far his tolerance had gone.

    She had recoiled for only a moment, pulling herself back together quickly enough. Opening the door fully, it revealed a large section built on the side of the colosseum wall. There was no ceiling, instead substituted for a large fabric mesh intent on keeping away mosquitoes and other perilous insects. On each side of the central pathway was a caged enclosure of various sizes, of which almost all had been filled with some sort of predator or other deadly creature.

    They trotted along between the cages, Lady Uthain¡¯s attention obviously grasped by the beasts, though only a handful could currently be seen, the rest hiding way amongst water or trees or brush.

    ¡°Would you care for a tour, my lady?¡± Her attention finally snapped back to him, her head swivelling up so that her eyes met his.

    ¡°Well, it should be obvious which beast I am here for,¡± she said.

    He sighed, head shaking. ¡°My apologies, my lady, but I¡¯m afraid the Khor isn¡¯t quite ready to be seen.¡±

    Her face fell in disappointment, though they returned with renewed interest just as quickly. ¡°Could you tell me about the beast?¡±

    Nalmet smirked. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I shall give you a full tour, first. It is hard to appreciate the Khor without something to compare it to.¡±

    ¡°Please, go ahead.¡± Nalmet walked to the first cage and tapped the iron bars, a ding ringing out. Lady Uthain looked around, first inside the cage, then in the others, no doubt expecting a reaction.

    ¡°The first thing that must be learned is that the beasts residing here are predators. Hunters. They do not react to sound with violence, but with attention, and often not even that. They do not view the sound as a threat, nor as prey, as they have become used to it.

    ¡°The creature within this cage is nothing special, a mere mountain cat. Though large, it is a stalker, like many predators. It waits in hidden silence for the perfect moment to strike.¡± He walked to the next cage directly across and took but a moment to find the creature, hidden behind a tree in the back. Turning, he spoke. ¡°Look closely,¡± he said, pointing to the back. ¡°This is a Madrag, a large reptile that hunts in packs. It uses a long tongue to lash out at prey, with many thin thorn-like protrusions helping it deliver a neurotoxin that paralyzes prey.¡±

    Lady Uthain nodded along, following as he approached another cage. The next beast was in clear view, requiring nothing of Nalmet but to speak.

    The creature was as large as the mountain cat, and easily outweighed most men. It stood in its cage, watching them as they watched it in turn, all four feet planted on the ground, its horns raised to the sky. ¡°This is a Sersene. While the horns may seem threatening, they are no more than decoration, used mostly for courting females, though it is also used to intimidate other predators. No, the real danger are its claws. They can kill most creatures up to the size of a lion in a single strike.¡±

    Her attention began to wane as Nalmet provided details on the next few animals. Her attraction, it seemed to him, was to the apex. A lion would not due when a tiger was so close, nor a dog when there was a wolf. He guided her along, skipping all but the last creature, the gesture proven successful by the smirk that grew upon her face.

    ¡°I must clarify that this is not the Khor, as it is being held in the arena.¡± The cage was hidden behind a curtain the draped down from the ceiling, blocking all view of the beast that lay inside. It was obvious from the curtains length that this cage was the largest, and Lady Uthain¡¯s smirk did not retreat even as sidestepped her hopes.

    ¡°What is it, then?¡± she asked. Nalmet himself gave a smirk, his heart beginning to beat just a bit faster.

    ¡°We only retrieved it earlier this week, after being granted permission from your uncle. Normally, the beast would not be allowed within a city, or even alive for that matter.¡± Her eyes enlarged as he spoke, the pupils of her eyes dilating as he spoke. Attention raptured, Nalmet pulled away the curtain slowly, revealing the cage and, within, the beast. Lady Uthain took a step back as it was revealed, her face contorting in shock, awe, and fear.

    ¡°Shocking, isn¡¯t it? A brown sessel. So large, so muscular. They hunt elephants, you know.¡± He could hear his own voice begin to crack as its volume raised.

    ¡°What are elephants, again?¡± she asked. Of course. He should have remembered. Not many knew of them.

    ¡°Large creatures, very large. Larger than this, mind you, but not by much.¡±

    She turned to him, face and eyes aglow. ¡°Will we be seeing this fight the beast?¡±

    Nalmet smiled. ¡°Indeed we will, my lady.¡±

    ¡°Is it to the death? I cannot imagine this creature to be tamed.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lady. It will be to the death.¡±

    ¡°How big is it? The beast?¡±

    ¡°Not this large, I¡¯m afraid. Still, it is¡­ intimidating to see up close, and it is difficult to measure. You¡¯ll be able to see it first hand in the coming days.¡±

    ¡°Do you think it will win? The beast, I mean?¡± Nalmet gave a chuckle as he heard the question. It was only to be expected. She had come for a fight, after all.

    ¡°Oh, it will win. I have no doubt about that.¡±

 Lady Uthain 4

    Lady Uthain sighed, her chest deflating as she lay on her bed. The rooms they had been provided were within the coliseum itself, and all around her were plain walls of white marble. There were no decorations, as she was so used to at home, though her own room had been furbished quite well. The bed frame was of high quality wood, as was the small table and wardrobe provided to her. In the corner to her right was a full bodied mirror, and next to it a door to the bathroom, for which she was very thankful that Sansbrook contained plumbing, unlike so many other towns and cities she had visited. On the left was a small desk, covered in blank papers and envelopes and all the other writing necessities.

    The bed frame extended almost to the ceiling, and had no top to speak of, giving her a wonderful view of nothing but featureless stone. She sighed again as she sat up, taking in the view of her own room. She had been unable to see the beast when they arrived, and even today she had been told that she would be unable to view the beast for several more days as they prepared its battle.

    Lady Uthain stood, legs weary for a walk, and she exited her room. The corridor was even more bare than her room had been, the walls turned grey from the lack of light. A series of lanterns were placed at spacious intervals, but the light they produced was barely enough to see another¡¯s face. Thankfully, Lady Uthain seemed to be alone within the depths of this marble maze, and so walked in peace, the echoing of her footsteps accompanying her.

    The corridors remained empty as she traversed their maze-like structure, turning towards what she believed to be the center of the colosseum at each crossroads. The journey was longer than she had thought it would be, a soreness beginning to creep into her feet as she continued to walk. As the daughter of the king she had grown physically weak, and she cursed at herself for her blunder. Eventually, she knelt down and removed her shoes, which had begun to dig into her flesh. She would not doubt have blisters on the morrow.

    As she turned again she saw it, at the end of the corridor. It was brighter, lit with the luminance of the moon to reveal the internal stadium, and off in the distance she could see the other side. She walked towards it slowly, minding her footfalls, shoes in hand. Her bare feet were far almost silent as she made her way down the corridor.

    As she entered the stadium, Lady Uthain could not help but to look around at its brilliance, a sharp breath catching in her throat. The stadium was massive, far more so than she had imagined. Rows of stone seats stretched around a field of green and brown, which itself was so massive that it could have hosted an entire battlefield with room to spare. The seats themselves could have sat a third army.

    Despite the brilliance of this massive, gleaming white structure that she had no doubt had hosted some of the greatest colosseum battles of all time, it felt off. Despite the solitude of her situation, Lady Uthain felt uneasy, as if she had forgotten something important. She searched the delves of her mind for a hint as to what she had forgotten, browsing her recent memories like a badly organized library, her mind racing as an unexplained panic began to sit in.

    She looked to the arena down below, her eyes dancing around its visage. It was empty, save for a pile of remains on the far side, barely visible in the moonlight. She stood in confusion for a moment longer, delving through memory after memory trying to piece it together.

    Clack. Clack. Clack. The sound of hoof meeting stone echoed about the air, and Lady Uthain finally remembered. She turned to the sound, her body immediately cowering at the sight of, a scream stuck in her throat as every part of her body tensed up in a hopeless attempt to disappear from the world.

    It was the beast. It had to be. Or else a monster from the tales of men given life. It stood in the darkness, body upright, a massive wall of muscle and fur and power. Its feet were cloven, each hoof the size of a plate. Its legs were thick, like trees, and shaped as a goats. Its upper body was that of a man¡¯s, though covered in a deep black fur. Its head, much like its legs, was that of a goat, a snout protruding from its face, its lips curled back to reveal rows of sharpened teeth. The most striking feature, however, were the horns atop its head, each one as thick as a man''s arm and jutting from the beasts stull, curling around and ending in two, sharp points.

    Lady Uthain¡¯s legs had given out, and she sat upon the ground as she stared at the beast before her. It was inhumanly tall, easily twice that of a normal man, and despite the fur covering its body it was clear that the beast possessed the power of an animal.

    Warm urine trickled down her legs as the beast approached her, only for the beast to halt in its tracks directly above her. It lowered its face to hers, its rectangular pupils frolicking up and down as it took in her image. It took in the air with a deep breath, releasing a white cloud from its nostrils that collided with her face, the heated air leaving behind a damp feeling. Lady Uthain could not move, her body paralyzed. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    It reached out with a hand that could have wrapped around her head, only to reach behind her body. Its fingers wrapped around her waist, lifting her up. Her legs, still limp from fear, were half bent, barely taking any of her weight as she awaited the beasts next move.

    ¡°Stand.¡± The sound was half roar as it rumbled from the beasts body. She could barely recognize the word for what it was. ¡°Stand,¡± the beast said again, the sound louder and less clear. Lady Uthain understood perfectly well, however, her legs regaining their lost strength.

    Certain she would not fall, the beast stood back from her, head bent down so that it could view her in full.

    ¡°Galal!¡± They both turned at the call, settling on the source of the sound. Nalmet, the Beastmaster, stood by the vomitorium, eyes glaring directly at the beast. He spoke again in a series of sounds Lady Uthain could not understand. For a moment she had believed she had gone too far into shock, only to realize that the beast understood the language as it replied. Their conversation was short, ending with the beast giving a nod, and then stepping away from her.

    ¡°I¡¯m dearly sorry about that, my lady,¡± Nalmet spoke as he approached her, his voice as soothing as she would have expected. That was to say, not all that much at all.

    ¡°Explain. Please,¡± she said, the words choking her.

    ¡°Come, my lady. You seem to have soiled yourself.¡± Nalmet led her away, her words either unheard or ignored. Lady Uthain looked back towards the beast, only to see its shape descend out of sight to the arena below.

    She was led through the maze of corridors back to her room, her dress wet and sticking to her legs the entire way. He waited outside her door as she changed. She removed her wet attire, unloading it onto the floor of her bathroom. She washed herself, enough to feel clean again, and dried herself as well as she could. After dressing in clean, dry clothing, she opened the door for the Beastmaster and invited him in.

    ¡°Please, come inside.¡± Nalmet ducked through the doorway, careful to avoid striking his head against it. Despite his height, Lady Uthain could not help but to compare him to the beast. He was nothing to it. She was nothing. ¡°Please, have a seat.¡±

    When both had seated, Nalmet began. ¡°My lady, I am terribly sorry for all of this.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°It is fine. I am just¡­ confused.¡± She was more than that, and she knew he could tell. She hadn¡¯t even stopped shivering.

    ¡°I can explain whatever you would like, my lady.¡± Her teeth chattered as she tried to form her words. Nalmet awaited her questions patiently, however.

    ¡°It can talk,¡± she said. It was not a question, merely a statement that could not be denied. Not after what she had seen, what she had heard.

    ¡°Correct, my lady.¡±

    She furrowed her brow. ¡°How, may I ask? Do the others know? Have I been kept in the dark?¡±

    ¡°No, my lady. Only we know of this, currently.¡±

    ¡°Then answer,¡± she said. Her shivering had stopped, and her voice had grown more stern.

    ¡°The ¡®beast¡¯, as you all like to refer to it as, is a Khor. The significance of that seems to not be understood by anyone involved, with the exception of me. And now you.¡±

    ¡°Pardon my rudeness, sir, but I would much appreciate it if you could answer my question. How can it talk? Am I supposed to believe that this is some intelligent creature?¡±

    Nalmet nodded. She had hit the nail on the head. ¡°It is, in fact, very intelligent, my lady. The Khor have their own language, their own tribes. Some of this has been recorded by those before me, though much of it I have learned from the Khor directly.¡±

    She stared at the man, no doubt her face having gone a bit slack from the revelation. The beast, intelligent? Was that possible?

    ¡°How intelligent is it?¡±

    ¡°I cannot say for certain, but it is comparable to humans. Better, in some ways. It has learned the meanings of words very quickly, and can memorize sounds and images faster than the average man.¡±

    Lady Uthain sank back in her seat. She was unsure what to make of it all. A beast as smart as man, and far more powerful. There was no wonder as to Nalmet¡¯s confidence in it. Then it seemed to click.

    ¡°They want to make a warbeast out of it.¡± The thoughts had escaped her lips, but she was not worried. The Beastmaster had seemed surprised. It felt like all her life she was surprising people. So little was the attention given to the second princess.

    ¡°Quite perceptive, my lady. Forgive me for asking, but what do you plan to do with that knowledge?¡±

    ¡°What is it that you want, Nalmet?¡± His eyes widened. Another surprise, it seemed.

    ¡°I would like to study the beast. To tap into its potential, if you will.¡±

    ¡°I can help with that.¡±

    ¡°Is there any reason for you to, my lady?¡±

    ¡°Of course. I want to see what it can do, too.¡±

 Galal 4

    The shining light of a lantern went out, darkness taking hold for a mere moment. The talker had come again, obscuring the light as he passed by the lanterns. Galal went to the wall in response, leaping up it and grabbing hold of the ledge with the tips of his fingers. It was just enough, and he pulled himself over the wall as he had before. He had come a long way since his first attempt.

    The talker sat on the flat stone. Seats. They were seats. A place to sit. Galal prefered to stand or crouch. The seats were ill-fitted to his size, or perhaps his body was not shaped for sitting. Either way, he would stand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t kill her,¡± the talker spoke. Nalmet. His name was Nalmet.

    ¡°I don¡¯t kill females,¡± Galal replied. Although he had not seen a human one before, he could tell from the scent. It was familiar.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt her. She is¡­¡± he paused, the word stuck in his mind. ¡°Is there a word for royalty?¡± he asked, switching to his own language. He had taught Galal, and Galal had learned.

    ¡°No. Alpha or leader are closest.¡± Nalmet nodded as he replied in a mix of the languages, repeating the words in the human tongue. Galal put them to memory. Language was useful.

    ¡°She is a leader. Many lower leaders here as well. Don¡¯t kill any humans for now,¡± Nalmet said. Lower leaders? Ah. He did not have a single word for them, but he understood. Powerful humans. Galal did not understand human power that well, but he understood well enough. They gave the commands.

    ¡°I won¡¯t kill humans yet. When training?¡± His arms and legs itched, his muscles almost twitching at the thought. He needed battle. Blood.

    ¡°Soon. Can you smell them?¡± He could. Not just the humans, but the monsters that had been prepared for him. They were new smells, mostly of fear. Only one monster did not smell of fear. The biggest, most likely. Or the dumbest.

    ¡°I can.¡± Galal looked down upon the fur smelling talking man. Despite being taller than the other humans, Galal felt that he was small. All things felt small, now.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Have you grown?¡± Nalmet asked. A coincidence? Or could the man know his thoughts?

    ¡°I am still young,¡± he replied. He was not yet an adult. He would continue to grow, and the world would continue to look smaller and smaller.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a ¡®yes¡¯¡±,¡± he said, pulling a book from his robes. He jotted something down, no doubt about Galal¡¯s height or age or something else. He had a feeling it was always about him. He shut the pages, the book disappearing beneath his robe as he stood. ¡°That will be all for tonight,¡± he said. He turned away from Galal and left, Galal in turn dropping to the arena below. It was time for sleep.

    <hr>

    He had awoken before the dawn broke. The arena was covered in darkness, yet in his left eye he could see it all as well as he could see in day. He closed his right eye to help focus, looking around at the dull details of his prison. No, not a prison. Not anymore. He could leave if he wanted. They couldn¡¯t hold him back.

    White walls of marble surrounded him. As did brown dirt, a bit of green grass. And red blood. Colors were such a wonderful thing, and now he knew their names. Red was his favorite. The way it spilled from the fallen. The way it dripped from his blade, the way it splattered across the ground, across the white walls. Humans liked art, the talker said. Perhaps Galal liked it, too? At least in his own way. There was beauty in the world, just as there was an ugliness to it.

    He took hold of the sword he had been given. Many weapons were given to him. Sword, hammer, a dull club, a spiked club, a spear. So many, all of different sizes and weights, all designed for killing. Galal swung the sword with one hand, swiping through the air in quick motions. He imagined the feeling of the blade cutting through a man or an animal. The talker had said it was to be used with two hands by humans. So small, they were. He could barely fit his own hand around the grip. He dropped the sword and lifted his next weapon. An ax, much bigger than the one he had used when he was captured.

    Its single edge was long and round, and at the tip was a spike much like a spears. The talker had said it wasn¡¯t a true ax, more a pole weapon, but it suited Galal just fine either way. With a careful swing he tested it. Its weight, the best way to hold it, that fastest way to swing it. He tested it all. It was his favorite, of course. The best weapon to do what he loved doing. Fighting.

    But he would have no match today, nor tomorrow. They wanted a big fight, something exciting. He shared that with the humans. The joy of fighting, the thrill of killing, the sense of superiority. To know that he was powerful, to know that the world was not done with him, and that he was not done with it. To know that he could win. And to win he needed to prepare.

 Galal 5

    They had gathered in their seats. Groupings of men spread about the colosseum. The female was there, too, sat beside the talker. They had come to watch him kill, or die. It mattered not. He would put on a show for them, just as they wanted.

    Ax in hand, Galal stood at the center of the arena, his arena, waiting for whatever creature they would send to die. He twisted the weapon in his hand, flipping the double ax head as his patience began to wear thin. He breathed deeply of the air, gathering the scents of man and animal to him. Some were excited, most were afraid. They feared him, that much was obvious. From the scents in the air, Galal questioned if it was he that they should be fearing.

    The wooden doors opened at last, the creature inside bolting through as soon as the gap widened, throwing the doors apart and nearly sending one of the men into the arena. Good. The creature was not the one he had smelled. He did not need to fear it.

    The creature was fast, running directly at him, a set of horns pointed at him. He sidestepped as it reached him, only for a set of claws to swipe at his leg. They dug into the thick black fur of his leg, but they did not pierce skin. Using the blunted end of the ax, Galal jabbed the creature in the ribs, causing it to leap back from him with a roar. A challenge.

    Bracing himself, Galal took in all the air he could and let out his own mighty roar, the sound reverberating throughout the arena. The horned animal retreated from the sound, its tail curled around its hind leg. Even their audience was taken aback, and their scents quickly change once again. More fear.

    Another sound blasted through the arena, the air seemingly vibrating as it boomed. The talker stood from his seat, about to move, but he was too late. Galal was the first to notice the other set of wooden doors creaking. He tightened his grip on the ax as they burst open into a hail of splinters, a cloven foot instinctively stepping back.

    It was a titanic beast, a monster of rough brown skin and a series of black thorns and hard petals. It charged towards the smaller beast, cowering on the side. It started to run, but it was caught in the jaws of the monster, the animal immediately splitting into two halves.

    Galal did not wait as it chewed its prey, charging the beast himself. He swung the ax blade at its front leg, carving halfway through. It roared again, the boom vibrating the air around Galal as it brought its head around. Galal pulled back, removing the ax. He lunged, ax swinging high, and brought its edge down. It collided with the creature¡¯s armored neck, cutting deep and lodging the weapon.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    The creature twisted around again, the ax pulled from his hands, its edge still embedded in the monster. It lashed out with a spiked tail that soared over Galal¡¯s head as he ducked. He moved back to distance himself, but it followed, relentless. Giant teeth chomped on empty air as Galal backed away. He waited for it to bite again, barely stepping out of the way of its teeth, and leapt up over its head.

    Thrashing, the monster turned its head frantically as it tried to reach him, but he was too far. Standing unsteadily on its back, Galal grabbed hold of the ax and pulled, ripping it away. The monster screeched as it thrashed about, sending Galal to the ground. He stood immediately, weapon ready, but the monster continued to thrash in a wild fashion.

    Its head went around in circles, its feet stomped without cause, its tail smashed against the ground time and time again. The beast had lost its sense, and Galal would not allow such an opportunity to leave him. He bolted, circling the beast as he searched for a vantage point. Slowly, he closed in, focusing on the spontaneous movements of its limbs as he lined up another strike. The moment came, and Galal brought the ax¡¯s edge down with his full might on the monster¡¯s neck, the same spot as before. It cut deep, the ax head swallowed into the beast¡¯s wound and out of view.

    Galal pulled the ax straight back, the head catching on more armored flesh, and as he pulled the armored skin tore away, splitting apart as his weapon was pulled free. Blood poured from the wound, leaving the ground covered in dark red puddles. The creature¡¯s limbs gave out, and the hulking titan collapsed onto the ground.

    He could see it. Bone. A piece of the spine, rather, sticking out from the gore and sinew or torn flesh. The creature¡¯s spine had been close to the surface, an easy place to strike at. No doubt few creatures would have the power to break through, nor the speed.

    He lifted the ax into the air with both hands, pushing out all of the air within him as he roared to the crowd above. He was the victor. He had one. Still, he did not see the beasts tail rise, nor did he see it swing, but he felt it. He felt as it smashed against his ribs, felt his feet leave the ground, and he felt as he landed against hard ground.

    He stood. Galal was a champion. A single blow would not do. He picked up the ax that had been launched from his hands and walked to the beast once again. He lifted the weapon high and brought it down, slicing the end of its tail off. He moved again, this time to the neck, his ax raised to the sky before being brought down to slice away at red flesh. He repeated the motion, over and over and over again, oblivious to the stares of the crowd.

    No one tried to stop him. No one spoke. The beast was long dead, no more a monster than a fallen tree, but he did not stop. Not until his weapon broke apart, the handle caving in, the head of the ax dangling from wooden splinters. He threw the weapon down and yelled at the fallen foe, his roar carrying long enough to burn his lungs.

    Galal stopped and looked at his work. The head was nearly severed, a mere few strands of flesh still connected, the rest torn, split, and diced apart into a slurry of blood and meat. Then he turned. He was done.

 Casser 1

    A chill ran up his spine as he knelt down. Soft earth had been imprinted with large, circular shapes. The shapes themselves went off in a line through the forest floor, each marked by crushed dirt or plants and broken twigs. They were tracks, pure and simple. Single toed much like a horse, but much wider. And bipedal.

    ¡°Jof, how big do you think this thing is?¡± The other man knelt beside him. The footprint went deep, almost enough for a man to trip in if he wasn¡¯t paying attention. The man shook his head.

    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ big, Casser.¡±

    Casser sighed. ¡°That¡¯s what I was afraid of.¡± He stood, and Jof followed as he approached his unit. Lenn and Bronel stood apart, their gazes sweeping the area in opposite directions even as he approached, sparing no more than a cursory glance.

    ¡°Old Fred ain¡¯t off his rocker, I take it?¡± Bronel asked.

    ¡°He might still be, but he was telling the truth about this, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    ¡°We headin¡¯ out then?¡± Lenn asked.

    ¡°Yep. Let¡¯s go,¡± Casser replied. He took point, as usual, and they followed. They walked along the side of the tracks, each member a good meter or two from the next, and each making sure to step inside the tracks Casser left behind.

    Casser licked his finger and raised it slightly above his head, feeling the direction of the wind as it lightly blew past them. The tracks had a slight curve to them, slowly twisting to the left. The same direction the wind was blowing.

    ¡°Careful. We¡¯re upwind,¡± he warned. They gave their quiet affirmations as they continued on. They couldn¡¯t stop yet. Not until they confirmed it.

    The tracks were new enough, having been set sometime after yesterday''s rainfall. The creature¡¯s gait was a long, but based on the imprints Casser was sure that it was walking. That gave them a good lead, but the clouds didn¡¯t bode well. It¡¯d rain again before long. He could feel it.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    Birds chirped above, and the occasional squirrel or rabbit bounded out of view, rustling fallen leaves as they went. He sniffed the air, the scent of dirt filling his nostrils as his eyes scanned the forest in front of them. Light drops of rain water began to fill his ears with their sound.

    White light reflected off of distant waters. A bog, he thought at first, but as the drew closer he realized it was a full pond. The tracks led to the water¡¯s edge, footprints obscured by a mess of sunken dirt and grass. The creature had knelt down, likely to drink from the water. Looking down, Casser saw his own reflection. A man in green armor, covered in leaves, face obscured by a helmet that bore antlers like an elk. Beneath the reflection he could just make out the bed of mud, flat and undisturbed. It had not entered the water.

    The pond was large enough, many meters across and littered with algae and floating plants. No doubt filled with leeches and other parasites. Casser could feel the thirst in his throat, a subtle dryness upon his tongue. It would rain soon enough. At least, he hoped, for the sake of his throat, though at the same time he knew it would mean more work down the line.

    They turned from the pond and continued their pursuit. It made no more stops, and neither did they as they followed. Soon enough the light of day had begun to fade, the forest becoming darker by the minute. Though the rain hadn¡¯t picked up completely, what was a light sprinkle had become full sized dollops of rain water. Good for masking their smell, but they were out of their depth. These were the woods of the frontier, and it was time to turn back.

    Casser held a hand up as he stopped, soon followed by the sound of his men following suit. ¡°We¡¯re heading back,¡± he said. They offered no complaints, no words of gratitude. They were silent as Casser passed them by, switching places Jof to once again take point.

    ¡°Casser.¡± He heard his name just as passed Lenn. He turned back, only to see Jof pointing to the sky and his men looking up. Above the treeline he saw it. Grey clouds, and a line of black smoke splitting them in two.

    ¡°Fire,¡± Bronel muttered. Fire indeed. Casser approached as silently as he could in the light of dusk, his men falling in line behind him. They circled downwind as they approached, flames finally coming into view. It was a campfire. A big one, above which was the roasting carcasses of several boar. The smell traveled downwind to them, his stomach protesting the senses of his nose and eyes.

    Houses of sticks and mud surrounded the fire. It was a village, of sorts. One empty of life, all while a meal of meat sat cooking. He turned, the faces of his men aglow, their eyes gleaming. ¡°They know we¡¯re here,¡± he said.

 Casser 2

    Orange light glimmered in the distance. He was cold, and wet. Water torrented down upon them, and every movement made Casser feel like he was under water. Each step was careful as his boots sunk into mud, and with each new step he had to pull it from its grasp. The forest didn¡¯t want to let him go. It wanted to swallow him whole. Him and his men both.

    They had made it back to the frontier village, and every one of his muscles argued with him as he kept walking. Lie down, they said. Rest, they said. But he couldn¡¯t. He made his way to the village center, his men following suit, having long broken out of formation. Their shoulders were slumped, their legs muddied, faces pale. They needed rest, so he waved them away to their own dwellings and they gladly complied.

    Casser knocked on the door. The lantern light inside was still on, which meant the village govern was still awake. He saw the man¡¯s shadow in the tiny window on the side, no doubt looking out to see who it was. Not that he¡¯d see much, with the rain. The door opened, and the man urged him in without a word.

    The abode was small, more so than most of the villages Casser had been to. The bed was barely off the ground, the cushioning no more than a thin layer of chicken feathers. There were only two chairs, and the dining table could barely be called that with how tiny it was. Governs tended to live more luxuriously than the rest of their flock, but Govern Lydl seemed to be of different cloth. A man who valued equality, or perhaps just too poor or senseless to get away with it. Casser hoped for the former, but he knew better than to assume. There were a lot of idiots in the world.

    ¡°We found them.¡± He spoke as soon as sat down. The chair was hand carved, uncomfortable and ill shaped, but he wasn¡¯t about to complain.

    ¡°So Fred spoke the truth?¡± Casser nodded in response. ¡°What is your plan now, if I may ask?¡± They were always up to him, weren¡¯t they? Plans. Always up to the Domicus, the ever esteemed knights of the Uthain Kingdom. But throw a monster at them and they¡¯ll die, like any other man.

    ¡°Govern, I will not regale you with niceties. I will be sending word on the morrow, and if I am heeded, then there will be a battle and you will all be safe, at least for the time being. But if I am not, you must retreat. Find somewhere else.¡±

    ¡°We have nowhere else to go, sir Domicus.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Then you will die.¡± It was the simple truth, but the Govern¡¯s depressed look still pained him. It brought too many memories.

    ¡°Are we truly that hopeless? Surely a single beast can¡¯t be so difficult to kill.¡± Casser shook his head. Do you see one ant, and assume it is alone? One wolf? No. But he couldn¡¯t say that.

    ¡°There are more of them than you¡¯d believe, Govern. A whole village of their own, though their craftsmanship is shoddy. And they are big, govern. Taller than any man and wider than bulls. They stand on two feet and have hands like a man. So yes, Govern, as much as I¡¯d rather not say it, you are hopeless here.¡± The man looked dejected. It was understandable. His hopes were dashed so soon after acting on them, and by the word of a Domicus no less. Few could envy the frontier villages.

    Casser stood from his chair, lightly pushing it into the table before he made his way out. Rain pelted him immediately, though he was already soaked all the way through. He listened to the ding of his chestplate as water splashed off it, his boots squishing through mud as he made his way to their temporary dwellings. It was bigger than the Govern¡¯s home, but scarce of any furniture or windows.

    Opening the door, he saw his men in different states of undress, clothes and armor formed into little piles. Each had a lit lantern, providing some much needed light to Casser¡¯s eyes, though the leaking ceiling dampened him both physically and mentally.

    ¡°Welcome back,¡± Lenn said. He had a boot in hand and a rag in the other, moving it back and forth as he wiped away mud.

    As Casser moved to his own spot in the corner Bronel stood. ¡°I¡¯ll get it for you.¡± Bronel was quick with his fingers, and in no time he¡¯d undone the armor bearing him down. Casser put it down carefully. You didn¡¯t mistreat your armor, especially when it was steel. Most men didn¡¯t get steel. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°No. Thank you.¡± Bronel turned back to his own equipment, and Casser sat on the wooden floor. It was damp and untreated. It¡¯d rot before long, especially with the rain. But that didn¡¯t mean much to him, at least he¡¯d like to think, so he set about cleaning his own equipment.

    ¡°We sticking around?¡± The question startled him for a second. Jof could see it, he could tell from his expression. No, they could all see it, and he could feel it. He was jumpy. Scared.

    ¡°I¡¯m sending word out tomorrow, if the storm lets up enough. After that, it¡¯ll be three days before we get a response, at the earliest.¡± Their eyes avoided his as he looked around at the three of them. They didn¡¯t want to be here any longer than he did. ¡°Lighten up,¡± he said. They didn¡¯t, and he had nothing else to say. He couldn¡¯t blame them. Those things had followed them almost the whole way out of the forest. They could kill one, maybe, if they worked together. But they had been surrounded. It wasn¡¯t the first time Casser felt like fleeing. But it might be the first time he did it.

 Lady Uthain 5

    Lady Uthain sipped her tea, steam rising above the cup. It was a local variety, and quite good besides. Her shoulders were slumped as she sat back in her chair. Her uncle, a man of worldly pleasures, said nothing as he attended to the only thing he liked more than adventuring: work.

    ¡°Anything exciting, uncle?¡± She doubted it, but her excitement had run dry since the battle. The beast¡¯s lair was off limits, and she had exhausted nearly every other option within the city. Plays, street shows, card tricks, even a fighting pit that had apparently become much more popular since the beast arrived. She had seen it all, and there was no more to be seen.

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± he replied, his voice low as he concentrated on the paper in his hands. The material was thin, and with the lantern light behind her uncle she could make out some of the words. Beasts on the frontier, it seemed.

    ¡°Anything that I could be part of, I mean?¡± He remained silent for a moment more then put the paper down.

    ¡°I¡¯ve received a note from Liard, he wanted my opinion. There¡¯s been a message from a nearby frontier village about some beasts, and from a Domicus no less. Seems they¡¯re causing some trouble.¡±

    ¡°A Domicus? It must be really exciting then.¡± Plenty exciting, if a Domicus was worried.

    ¡°Certainly. But I¡¯ve also gotten word from your father. He wants you back in the capital.¡±

    ¡°Of course he does.¡± She stood. ¡°Then, I¡¯ll be on my way, uncle.¡± She bowed, her uncle returning a nod as his attention was pulled back to the paper on the table. She peered at it another moment, skimming through the paper. Lorwood. The name of the frontier village.

    She left his office, her legs feeling spry as they carried her from corridor to corridor until she found the door marked with a lion. She opened it, the smell of animals and blood greeting her, alongside the appearance of the Beastmaster.

    ¡°Good day, Beastmaster,¡± she said. She closed the door and approached the man, who much like her uncle was lost in thought and observation, though in this man¡¯s case it was with beast instead of paper. She gazed into the cage, eyes landing on a dog-like creature and its pups. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Good day, Lady Uthain.¡± He didn¡¯t bother to turn and look at her, eyes fixated on the animal and its pups, hand scribbling away in a journal.

    ¡°Do you know of Lorwood, if I may ask?¡±

    ¡°I do, though only in passing, I¡¯m afraid.¡± His hand stopped, the book closing as he turned to her. She hadn¡¯t planned on leaving until her business was done, and he seemed to realize that well enough. ¡°May I ask why you ask?¡±

    ¡°Well, simply put, my uncle has received word from a Domicus in Lorwood about some beasts.¡± The man¡¯s eyes opened slightly wider. The rest of his face was still.

    ¡°That is interesting, but not the full story, I take it?¡±

    ¡°That depends on how loyal you think Galal is.¡±

    His look turned quizzical. ¡°He does what I ask, but there is no question as to his loyalty. He has none. He trusts me enough to approach him and provide what knowledge and items I can, and is altogether familiar and accepting of what I am and what I have to offer. To him, I am an opportunity, much as I am to you, my lady. And he will betray me should I outlive my usefulness.¡±

    ¡°Then make it clear what I can offer.¡±

    ¡°And what is that, my lady?¡± She was not omnipotent within the kingdom, but she could offer many things. Things that any man or woman would jump to.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve guessed at what the Domicus was afraid of. I¡¯ve thought the same, and I¡¯d like to send Galal there.¡±

    ¡°That will be difficult, my lady. The colosseum is rampant with spies, and it has become difficult to move about. It may be that our little secret about Galal¡¯s intelligence is not so secret, and releasing him will lead to problems, to say the least.¡± It was true. She¡¯d suspected as much when she arrived. The colosseum was large, larger than was needed with the number of rooms within. It was only to be expected that there were tunnels hidden away.

    ¡°You¡¯re a capable man, Beastmaster. That¡¯s why I trust you¡¯ll be able to free the beast. But before then, I¡¯d like you to teach it something.¡±

    He gave another quizzical look. ¡°Yes, my lady?¡±

    ¡°Teach it to wear armor, and get its measurements. A royal smith has joined us on our little expedition here, and I¡¯d like to make our friend a beastly knight. A true champion of his kind.¡±

    The Beastmaster''s mouth turned up at the sides, forming the faintest whisper of a grin, but a grin nonetheless. ¡°I will do what I can, my lady.¡±

 Galal 6

    The talker had not come in a while. No one did. Only once since he killed the armored animal did he show up, and then only to measure his body. Four meters tall, he had said. The humans had shuffled out of sight after the fight. Some had been scared, others excited. Still, Galal had not seen any others since, and so he carried about his days training. At least they had left the weapons.

    The ax was broken. Disappointing, but Galal had other weapons, the mace being his favored choice. It had a good weight to it, and when Galal swung it he could almost feel the impact. It would kill just fine.

    Swords he avoided. Their blades were big, but their small grips made them difficult to use. Even the ¡°great sword¡± barely fit in his hand, and swinging it did not provide the same satisfaction.

    Still air turned to a breeze as he thrusted straight ahead. The spear was an odd weapon, but it would have done well against the beast. It had a reach to it, and could slip by armor nicely. The talker had said it was best used in groups. Armies. Men were fond of armies. Strength in numbers. A good idea.

    ¡°Hello, talker.¡± The sound echoed within the arena as the man came into view, a cart of wood behind him. He was alone, and extra smelly today. Even a human could have smelled him from a distance. Galal leapt up the wall, grabbing the ledge and pulling himself up. He looked down to the talker, covered in sweat, smelling of exertion. ¡°It has been many nights.¡±

    ¡°It has.¡± He took heavy breaths, barely able to speak between them.

    ¡°What have you brought?¡± Galal¡¯s attention turned to the cart, its contents covered in a sheet. He could smell hard iron. Steel, rather. That¡¯s what they called it.

    ¡°The woman you met before. She¡¯s had armor made for you.¡±

    ¡°Am I to be a knight, talker?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps.¡± He pulled the sheet away, revealing the armor underneath. Reflective gray, its surface smooth, barely fitting inside the cart. Its size was such that a man could hide inside it, and it was no wonder as to why a single man had difficulty transporting it.

    ¡°For what reason am I to wear this?¡±

    ¡°She wants you to escape.¡±

    ¡°Escape? I am no longer held here.¡±

    ¡°I know that. The others don¡¯t, and she would prefer they believed you escaped.¡±

    ¡°Be more clear, talker. What is desired of me?¡± He took another breath, then another. Hesitating? Was that the word they used?The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°There is a village nearby that has been having difficulties with some beasts. I don¡¯t know what they are, but I suspect that they are of your kind.¡±

    Galal mimicked a chuckle, the sound almost a goat¡¯s bleating. His kind did not have laughter, but they had humor. And Galal found it all quite humorous.

    ¡°I will go, talker. When light falls, I will go.¡± Galal stepped forward, grasping the armor and lifting it. It was heavier than his weapons, formed of two pieces clasped together by thick straps at the shoulders.

    ¡°Allow me,¡± the talked said. He undid the straps, allowing Galal to slip the armor on from a crouched position while he strapped it together. Galal stood when it was complete, gazing down on the armor¡¯s surface. It covered his chest and stomach completely, just as it should, his arms and legs free to move about.

    ¡°Are there not other pieces?¡± The men Galal had seen were covered from head to feet in the stuff.

    ¡°It takes time, I¡¯m afraid, and you are so much larger than humans. The rest is being made, but it will finished while you are gone.¡±

    ¡°Fine then,¡± Galal said, approaching the arena edge. ¡°I will train, then at night I will leave.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be going with you.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    <hr>

    No one else had come throughout the day. Galal had trained in peace, practicing with mace and spear as his armor beared down on him. It was nothing at first, but as the day drew on it grew heavier and heavier. He did not dare take it off. It was protection, protection he needed to grow used to.

    The talker had come long after sun had fallen and crescent moon had risen. Speechless, he motioned for Galal to follow. He crouched through the vomitorium, the ceiling occasionally scraping against his horns and forcing him lower each time. Perhaps this place was a prison.

    Hooves clacking against stone echoed about the hallways. There was no allusion to a stealthy escape. If any were in these halls, they would hear them, but the talker said nothing and continued on in silence.

    Moonlight shone from the entrance long before they arrived there, the final corridor long and straight. Exiting, Galal took in the new surroundings as he stood fully upright, his horns and legs sore. The area they stood upon was flat stone, ending a short distance away with a small wall. Beyond was the city, covered in shadows and lit by lanterns, the sound of yelling and sounds he did not understand reaching them as a whisper.

    ¡°Humans are quite the craftsmen,¡± he said. He had heard them called the builders at one time, and now he understood why.

    ¡°You should see the capital. Much larger than this, much larger. Far more people.¡± It was an exciting concept.

    They continued on, circling around the colosseum and away from the bulk of the city. The colosseum sat on the city¡¯s edge, and as they circled the wall surrounding it all came into view. It was not half as high as the arena walls, and as they approached Galal took hold of the smaller man. He ran several feet, then leapt up, both of them soaring over the wall onto the other side.

    They landed, each grunting as they absorbed the impact. ¡°We are free, talker.¡± Before them lay open field, and in the distance the edge of the forest. He let the man down, the man patting himself off.

    ¡°Say something before doing that again,¡± he said, Galal responding with a bleating chuckle. ¡°Now come. We go north.¡±

 Casser 3

    Villagers whispered from their doorways and their fields as Casser and Lenn passed by. He wore his armor, as he did every day, though today he carried his shield and spear. He¡¯d been doing it since they returned from the woods. His three men did the same, though they were not as fully equipped, having only mail shirts and leggings.

    Their gazes were fixated on the forest line, each trying to make out any movements or odd figures. They didn¡¯t have time to focus on the villager¡¯s rumors or gossip. Rather, they didn¡¯t have the patience for it. The forest was dangerous, hiding away dark things, things they were tasked with protecting the village from. Still, there was nothing that he could see. Trees, trees, the occasional squirrel or bird, and more trees.

    ¡°Don¡¯t think they followed us,¡± Lenn said. The man needed to shave, his mustache slowly encroaching over his lips, his beard beginning to reach his chest, but no one had said anything. A poor choice on their parts. Lenn wouldn¡¯t do it until someone said something.

    ¡°Not gonna risk it. You saw¡¯em.¡± Lenn remained quiet at that, then changed the subject.

    ¡°When do we get some reinforcements?¡±

    ¡°They aren¡¯t sending any.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t sending any? Do they mean to have us dead?¡± It was a possibility.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. But if we see another one, we leave, villagers be damned.¡± He didn¡¯t care to say it, but it was the truth. He¡¯d leave behind a hundred men to get some distance from those things.

    The conversation lulled once again. The sun was beginning to fall from the sky, which meant there was still a ways to go. Bronel would have first watch tonight, a fact Casser was thankful for. This assignment had been wearing at him too long.

    ¡°Stop.¡± Lenn halted at the words, head turning to where Casser was looking. He swore he could hear him swallow. A bit past the forest line, behind a wide tree, it stood. Half of its body poked out, its horns raised to the sky, its eyes pointed at them. ¡°Call for backup, I¡¯ll hold it back.¡±

    He stepped forward, shield raised and spear directed at the beast as he searched for more of them, each time moving his eyes back on it. It moved, first stepping out in full from behind the tree, then walking towards him. It looked bigger and bigger with each step, not once slowing down even as Lenn yelled for Bronel and Jof.

    It was a monster, an abominable split between man and goat that carried a large wooden branch in hand. Casser could hear yelling and the clanging of metal from the village as Bronel and Jof ran to them. As it approached, it sped its movements, lifting the branch behind its head and swinging down on him.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    It struck his upraised shield, the blow forcing his body down as it reverberated through him. Casser thrusted out with his spear in return, piercing its abdomen, only for the beast to swipe it with its massive arm, snapping the wooden handle. Recoiling, Casser tossed aside the handle and drew his sword.

    The blow was too heavy, and as another came from the side Casser could barely hold his feet to the ground. He didn¡¯t both counter attack, the beast having backed away after his own attack. Lenn fell in beside him, spear and shield at the ready, but the beast only moved to the side, forcing them to turn with it in a circular manner.

    One foot forward, then the next, Casser approached the beast, waiting. It swung, missing as he sidestepped and moved in with his blade, slicing at a furred leg. The beast grunted as it back-stepped, branch swinging to keep him away. Casser could see Bronel and Jof coming from behind it, something it seemed to sense as well as it leapt toward the forest line.

    They arrived with shields up and spears pointed, Lenn quickly moving to their side to form a spiked wall. ¡°Spread out and surround it!¡± Casser ordered. He did the same, circling around to cover one side. The beast caught on, slowly inching toward Casser. ¡°Smart bastard.¡± They had it surrounded, but the creature swiped at Casser once again, knocking him to his feet.

    It stood atop him, branch striking against his shield repeatedly. The others closed in, thrusting out with their spears. It dodged them, stepping away as they stood between it and him.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Bronel asked.

    ¡°Arm¡¯s broken.¡± Bone wasn¡¯t poking through, but it hurt, and looked off besides. He stood again, sword in hand, and retreated a bit, his broken arm holding up his shield and sending every signal of pain it could to make him stop. He wouldn¡¯t, though. Better a lost arm than a lost life.

    Two of them circled around again while Lenn remained between him and the beast. It ran forward, branch low, swiped up. Lenn sidestepped, spear thrusting again into the beasts abdomen, a gush of blood pooling out. From behind, Jof and Bronel leapt in, their own spears piercing its flesh.

    Casser moved then, approaching quickly from the unarmed side of the beast and thrusting his blade up high, only barely slicing through the creature¡¯s throat, a rain of blood descending from the wound. They all stepped back, the creature falling loosely to the ground.

    ¡°Think it¡¯s dead?¡± Jof asked.

    ¡°Better fucking be,¡± Lenn said.

    ¡°Stab it again to be sure,¡± Casser ordered, each of them stabbing at it a few more times. It didn¡¯t move even as new holes were formed in its body, its blood spilling out into a giant puddle of brownish-red. ¡°Good enough,¡± he said.

    They stood around the beast, each one looking down at its corpse. It was big. There was no other way to put it. It stood half again as tall and wide as any of them, its limbs as thick around as a child¡¯s waist and hands large enough to wrap around a mans head.

    ¡°Excuse me, sir!¡± They turned to the call, a villager jogging their way. He stopped at the sight of the fallen beast, falling a step back. ¡°Is it dead?¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Casser responded, and the man approached with cautious steps. He stopped some distance away, gaze fixated, then spoke.

    ¡°A man has come to the village and would like to speak with you.¡±

 Galal 7

    Blood was on the air. Blood and steel, and fear. He could not see it for himself, having gone too far into the forest, but he could tell. They had killed one of his kind. One of the Khor.

    He trudged through the forest, the dirt soft from recent rains, following the scent of his kind. These woods were unfamiliar to him, and he did not recognize the fallen Khor, nor the tribe itself. He had been from another, and he expected battle as a result. If they were like him, then they were violent.

    Galal ignored the trail of a nearby deer, tempting as it was. Misting rain fell, soon to become a downpour of its own and washing it away, but hunger could be put off for now. There were things he needed to do, things he wanted to do.

    The smells grew more varied and more intense as he approached their village, the smell of smoke and charred meat beginning to lace the air. The misting turned to steady rain as he came upon the village, its inhabitants out of sight, the fire at the center still burning. They were there, watching him, waiting. The smell of steel made them weary, as it had once made him weary.

    ¡°Come out!¡± he called, the figures slipping from behind trees and houses. Only a few approached, the largest of them, and as they settled before him Galal realized how big he truly was. A giant, even by his own races standards, he looked down on the largest the village had to offer. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Who are you? Why have you come?¡± Galal straightened his back, pushing out his chest as he extended his height ever more.

    ¡°I have come to conquer.¡± They did not speak, the closest one lashing out with a large branch. Galal allowed it to strike his chest, the branch breaking against his armor, a hand snapping out and closing around the perpetrators neck. He squeezed, crushing the nameless Khor¡¯s windpipe just enough to cut its breathing, then struck it in the stomach with his fist.

    He let go, the Khor collapsing with wheezing gasps as it clawed at its throat. ¡°Submit,¡± Galal said. The others did not approach, some even retreating a few steps. ¡°Submit,¡± he said again.

    The fallen Khor was the first to do so, remaining on its knees and vocalizing a clicking sound. One by one the rest followed, lowering themselves to their knees and releasing a chorus of clicking.

    ¡°Rise,¡± he said. The clicking ceased and the tribe rose. It was small, less than twenty in number. Few of them were male, perhaps five in total, all of them adults. The Khor did not raise challengers. ¡°Bring me meat.¡± He stood, silent, as one of the elder females did his bidding, bringing a roasted deer leg. She flinched as he reached toward her, quickly backing away after he took hold of his meal. The outside was charred, remnants of fur still remaining, but Galal ate it nonetheless.

    Slowly, the tribe began to eat as well, continuing their dinner with mild hesitation, stealing glances at their new leader. The tribe was his, now, and once sun rose he would make that clear. For now, he would plan.

 Nalmet 6

    The Domicus and his men approached in multicolored green outfits, the Domicus himself the only one wearing proper plate armor. It was the way of things, to protect only the important few. The plate was green, covered in a layer of dark cloth and interwoven leaves strung together that covered the chest and back. Truly, he seemed to embody the image of a forest knight. Would have, rather, if not for the splatters of red, and the smell of blood.

    ¡°You are the sir Domicus, I take it?¡±

    The man nodded, his helmet rattling at the movement. ¡°I am. Did they not bother to write my name?¡±

    ¡°This visit of mine¡­ well, let¡¯s just say that I am not here on official business. Ah, the name is Nalmet, Beastmaster of Rhades, though I¡¯ve come here from Sansbrook,¡± he said, extending a hand.

    ¡°Casser,¡± the knight said, gripping Nalmet¡¯s hand in his own. ¡°May I ask what you are here for then, Beastmaster? I don¡¯t imagine news should have spread in such a manner.¡± His wits were about him, at least. If only there were many like him, rather than the few he had dealt with till now.

    ¡°I¡¯m here by request of a member of the royal family. They are quite interested in these creatures.¡± The man, Casser, chuckled, his men following suit, forming a chorus of laughs.

    ¡°You¡¯re in luck. I still happen to have the blood of one on me,¡± he said. Nalmet felt his face uncontrollably shape itself into a look of surprise, his attention immediately moving down to the red stains.

    ¡°When did this happen? Is it dead? May I see it?¡± The words fell out of him, his composure breaking itself apart. He stopped himself, pulling the pieces back together, but he¡¯d already made it clear. He was very excited.

    ¡°It¡¯s dead, alright. Follow them, I have to attend to my arm. Bastard broke it, you see.¡± He followed the knights, passing through the village. The buildings were small, perhaps enough to house three or four adults uncomfortably, and no two were of dissimilar size, from what he could see. The frontier was harsh, and Nalmet was not envious of their lot in life. He rarely felt envy to begin with, but this was another matter.

    They came upon the Khor soon enough, at the outskirts of the village near the tree-line, the excitement draining away the more he looked. It was smaller than Galal. Far smaller, perhaps three meters in height. The Khor were a sizable race, but compared to the four meter Galal, it was childlike in comparison.

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem as excited,¡± one of the unnamed soldiers said. The others gave stern looks to the soldier, no doubt ready to berate him.

    ¡°I will admit, it is not what I expected. Smaller than the one I am used to dealing with.¡± They looked at him, open mouthed and wide eyed. ¡°It is still of interest, however. May I?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    He stepped to the corpse. It was riddled with bloody punctures, the dripping blood beginning to thicken and dry. Its horns were curved back, though they did not curl back to the front as Galal¡¯s did. The musculature was less prominent, the fur thinner. He felt its chest with a hand, tracing the outlines of its ribs.

    ¡°How is the hunting in this area?¡± The question seemed to catch the knight¡¯s men off guard, one answering after a moment of thought.

    ¡°Poor. There are deer, but no elk or moose, and the deer are few. I assume the beasts have been getting the majority.¡±Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Well, I am of the belief that this one is malnourished. Starved, even.¡± Their faces told him what he already knew. Shock, disbelief, fright.

    ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°As much as I can be. The fur is thin and easily pulled away, and I can feel the ribs beneath the fur.¡± He stood, moving down the Khor¡¯s body. ¡°Then look here. The testacles are shrunken as small as a mans, the hooves are misshapen. I can¡¯t say it was on the verge of death, but it would have been in a few more months. Weeks, if the hunting was bad.¡±

    The men looked at him, then at one another. A single one, malnourished and weakened, had almost killed them, and there were yet more still in the woods.

    ¡°Do you have word of reinforcements?¡± one of them asked. It was understandable, the fear. Even Nalmet had felt it before. A Beastmaster knew best of all that beasts were not so easily predicted. They could lash out at any moment. Their situations were different, but all the same, fear was fear.

    He shook his head. ¡°I do not.¡± None of the soldiers could maintain eye contact after that. They were warriors, men used to fighting and ready to lay them down, but even they wouldn¡¯t just throw their lives away. Not for a village.

    ¡°May I dissect it?¡± He pointed to the Khor, their attention falling on its corpse.

    ¡°Go for it,¡± one said, no sooner a dagger and leather case appearing in Nalmet¡¯s hands. He worked slowly, analyzing the chest first, peering into its wounds as he shaved away coagulated blood. The dagger pierced flesh, slicing the torso into section before the blade slipped between skin and muscle. He separated the two, pulling the skin to the sides and revealing the musculature underneath, as well as a series of organs.

    ¡°Gruesome work, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Certainly. Blood, organs, fluids most men don¡¯t even know is inside them. It is a gorey thing, but necessary to learning.¡± He pulled at the Khor¡¯s intestines, removing them from the body, a hand feeling along their length with a light squeeze. Next, he removed a scalpel from the leather case, lightly cutting the stomach open and depositing its contents onto the ground next to the beast.

    He looked up to the men, two with their faces turned away as another watched with interest. ¡°It seems I was correct,¡± he said.

    ¡°How can you tell?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s little fat, and practically no digested food. At the very least, it hasn¡¯t eaten in several days.¡± He moved on, positioning himself near the beasts head.

    ¡°What are you doing now?¡±

    ¡°Checking the brain,¡± he said curtly, his blade slicing through skin and peeling it off, revealing a bloodied skull. Nalmet reached into the leather case once again, this time removing a saw. He aligned it with the skull, moving it back and forth, forming a circular incision around the skulls top. He produced yet more tools, a hammer and chisel, sliding the chisel nicely within the sawed cracks and beating the hammer against it, pushing it deeper into the skull.

    Nalmet twisted the instrument, forcing the pieces of skull apart with a crackling noise. He repeated the action, beating the chisel into the skull and pushing the pieces apart, until finally he popped the skull top off, horns and all. He continued on, removing pieces of skull until finally all the remained was the brain and the dura mater surrounding it.

    ¡°Not what I thought the inside of head would look like.¡± Most wouldn¡¯t, but Nalmet ignored the man¡¯s words, his blade carefully slicing through the layer of skin surrounding the brain. The brain itself was mostly unremarkable in features, no different than most, perhaps more wrinkled than the average animal. The only thing astounding about it was its size.

    ¡°It seems my suspicions have been confirmed,¡± he said.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The brain, look at its size. Big, isn¡¯t it?¡± There was no denying it. It was large, on par with the size of a man¡¯s head, maybe larger. ¡°Now, while not always accurate, the larger the brain of an animal is compared to the size of its body, the smarter it will be. Humans like us are no different, our brains being on the larger end.¡±

    ¡°So what does this tell you.¡±

    ¡°Nothing that I didn¡¯t expect. It¡¯s intelligent. I¡¯m sure you saw that yourself.¡± None of the men argued. It had been true. A giant beast it was, but it had used a weapon. A crude one, no better than a big stick, but a weapon nonetheless. ¡°And while this is only a guess, from what I can see,¡± he said, ¡°they are about as smart as us.¡±

 Galal 8

    Mist permeated the forest, a sea of white drowning the shapes, colors, and smells of nature. The rains had come and gone, leaving a layer of dampness in their wake. Houses of wood and stone formed the village before him, each held together with dried mud or loosely put together, ready to collapse at the lightest of impacts. Foul indicators of their lot in the world.

    The Khor, his kind, moved about, gathering wood and stone, taking apart their shoddy homes. He had ordered it, and they obeyed. None questioned him.

    His orders were finished by the time the mist had cleared, the sun beating down on the forest from above, the trees providing almost chilling shade as they moved through the forest, the males at the front, weapons in hand, the others in back carrying the remains of the village.

    ¡°This way leads to man.¡± It was the largest of the village¡¯s Khor, one called Darma. Even still, his head barely reached Galal¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°I know,¡± he replied. The smaller Khor kept his gaze low as he fell back from him, just high enough to look forward. Fear had filled Galal¡¯s nostrils since he arrived.

    Galal led, his village following without a word, their walking the only sound in the forest. The birds did not chirp, the deer did not call out, the squirrels did not chatter. They walked until they came upon the human village, shingled roofs popping out from behind the trees. Lorwood.

    ¡°Humans!¡± He roared the name of their race, his own backing away at the call. It would carry to them, and they would come. Armored ones, of course. He expected as much, just as he expected the yelling, the frantic movements, the pungence of fear growing ever stronger. There was always so much fear.

    An armored man approached, others in tow, each wielding a spear and shield. ¡°Halt!¡± he called out to his men, his spear held out to block the way. They could see him, what he was. They could guess at how it would turn out. To flee would be the smarter idea, and more tempting.

    ¡°Leave. This is our village now,¡± Galal said. The armored man turned his head to his men, body still facing the gathering of Khor, his words too quiet to hear. One man turned back and ran, the others forming a line of spearheads.

    ¡°We¡¯ll leave, we just need time,¡± the man said.

    ¡°Make it quick,¡± he replied. He couldn¡¯t smell the talker. Hidden himself? Or had he run? It mattered little now.

    The humans filed out of their homes. Some with courage came to view the Khor, perhaps ready for a fight. Courage that turned to dust in their throats at the sight of him, the will to fight snuffed out. They turned away and left with more hurry than they arrived, all of them heading south.

    Some carried what little belongings they had. Cloth, wooden boxes, handfuls of items, each loaded up into what few carriaged were left to the village as others went by foot. To the side of the village was a herd of cattle surrounded by wooden fencing, and as a man hurried to it Galal called out to him. ¡°Leave the cattle!¡± he yelled at the man. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    The man stopped and fell as he turned, frantically crawling away from the cattle, hushed voices calling out to him from behind the buildings. They scurried about, rushing to take what valuables they could, retreating from the forsaken village with brisk paces. At the end of it all, only the knight and his men remained, weapons drawn. The decision had been made, and they, too, retreated, heads swiveling back and forth as they surveyed the positions of the Khor. Only when they were out of sight did Galal speak.

    ¡°The village is ours,¡± he began. ¡°Take the homes for yourselves, or build new ones. You three gather food. You four, make spears.¡± Food, weapons, housing, the Khor set out to make or gather them all, all by his order.

    He approached the houses himself. Tiny dwellings, barely tall enough for the average Khor to duck into. Despite that, the quality was a vast improvement over the Khor¡¯s original dwellings. Their height would still cause problems, however, especially for Galal. They would need to be made bigger, perhaps even torn down and rebuilt. As much as Galal wished to emulate the humans, to build monuments like the colosseum, the Khor were not carpenters.

    Some of the Khor ducked in and out of the homes, mostly the young ones. They played amongst themselves, ignoring the work that was to be done, frolicing about. Galal paid them no mind as he left the buildings and approached the spear makers. They had done well to imitate his example, taking long, sturdy branches of wood and carving the tips. They would perform poorly when compared to the spears of iron and steel, but they would do well enough.

    Lifting one, Galal tested its weight, then thrusted against an invisible foe. They were much larger than the ones used by humans. Wounds left by them would run deep and wide, leaving a gory mess. If broken, then they could easily be turned to clubs.

    Setting it down without a word, he moved on to the center of the village where food had been gathering up. Strips of deer and boar, loafs of bread and hardtack, fish in varying states of drying, wheels of cheese, and handfuls of vegetables and fruit. It was more than they had had, but not enough.

    ¡°Some of the human food is still cooking,¡± a female Khor said, her gaze facing down.

    ¡°A perpetual stew. ¡®Lasting meal¡¯, I believe is the closest translation,¡± the familiar voice called out. The talker, Nalmet, approached from the edge of the woods, the Khor standing, eyes fixated on the human who spoke their language. None moved to stop him as he approached Galal. ¡°Food is cooked constantly, with more added as it is eaten.¡±

    ¡°Crafty work,¡± Galal replied. It was interesting, but useless for Khor, in the practical sense. Raw meat worked just as well as cooked.

    ¡°Can Khor eat rotten meat?¡± the man asked.

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then use the leftover pots. It prevents rotting, good for storing food.¡± In a moment his mind had been changed.

    ¡°Keep the fires going,¡± he told the female, then turned to Nalmet. ¡°You¡¯re too smart for your own good, talker.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been told. May I examine the woman and children?¡±

    ¡°Later.¡± Galal surveyed the Khor, searching their reactions. It was unlikely they would attack the talker, but he needed to be sure. They had all gathered close enough to here and see, so he spoke. ¡°No harm to this human,¡± he said, a finger pointing at the man. Clicking noises sounded out among them.

    ¡°What does that sound mean?¡± the man asked.

    ¡°Submission,¡± he said. ¡°Now go, check the cattle.¡± The man left without complaint or comment, the Khor moving away as he walked past.

 Casser 4

    Open field greeted them on the way back, just as it had when they first arrived. A single path of dirt led them, contrasting against the green grass that had grown to knee height. Ahead of Casser and his men were the stragglers, the villagers too poor to own wagons or horses of their own, carrying with them sacks and wooden boxes of their valuables and keepsakes. With their homes gone, Casser didn¡¯t imagine that they¡¯d last long. Maybe some of them would last a while, live a good life, but the rest would starve, else face some other untimely end.

    The villagers still in view were mostly families, those with young children that needed to be carried or required a slower pace. They had fallen behind, which meant Casser and his men did the same. He couldn¡¯t just leave them behind, open to attack from any beasts that followed. That didn¡¯t mean he would help them along, having refused to help carry objects and children twice already.

    ¡°How long do we have to stay on the ass end of all this?¡± Bronel asked. Casser¡¯s soldiers didn¡¯t complain, not outright, but they made their displeasure clear enough when they could.

    ¡°Can¡¯t for much longer. Their taking too long. I¡¯m going to have to go ahead to Sansbrool.¡±

    ¡°Leaving us behind, eh?¡± Jof said.

    ¡°You and Bronel, sure. Lenn¡¯s with me,¡± he replied. None complained about it aloud, but their faces and attitudes changed enough to notice. No one wanted rear duty, walking at a crawling pace all day as they watched for beasts and bandits.

    ¡°You should get going, then.¡± Casser didn¡¯t say anything. He walked faster, Lenn¡¯s footsteps quickening behind him, and caught up to the nearest group, a family of six. The parents each carried a child and a sack, while the oldest daughter, almost of adult age but still a few years off, carried the third child.

    ¡°Are you going on ahead, sir?¡± The daughter asked. Hair clung to her face, wetted by sweat, a sheen of it covering her skin that almost glowed in the daylight. If he were not a man of the world, Casser may have mistaken the glow for some sort of holiness, some premonition of the girls future import. But Casser was a man of the world.

    ¡°I am. I must reach Sansbrook as soon as possible and report what we have seen.¡±

    ¡°Good luck, sir,¡± the girl said. No sooner, a light rumble could be heard, like the growling of a small animal. The girl looked away, the cause obvious. He reached into his pocket and removed a small chunk of hardtack, handing it her way. ¡°No sir, I couldn¡¯t,¡± she said.

    ¡°Just take it. And don¡¯t tell anyone, I don¡¯t have enough for the village.¡± The girl took the food, quickly sneaking a bite into her mouth, hiding the rest within the smallest child¡¯s clothes. The mother and father nodded their thanks, slowly drifting behind as Casser moved on.

    They passed by family after family, often giving no more than a nod of acknowledgment if anything at all. Once they had become too far back to see, sunlight had begun to dim, the sky red.

    ¡°We push on through the night,¡± he said. He heard a mutter of acceptance, the words barely recognizable as blood beat in his ears. Sweat clung to his skin, gluing his clothes to his back, eyes stung by the drops that fell from his brow. The cloth he had wiped himself with had become damp, at the verge of uselessness as he wiped his face. He twisted and squeezed it, drops of salty water falling to the ground. It reminded him of rain. He longed for it, at the same time was thankful there was none.

    The night was long, and cold, enough to crave the hot day that had just ended. Casser shivered in his armor, the metal cold against his skin. One two occasions they saw orange light in the distance, off the side of the path. The warmth of fire called to him, to Lenn too, no doubt, but they walked on each time.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    The sun broke behind city buildings. Sansbrook, alight with the sun¡¯s rays as its backdrop, appeared to him a holy city, the promised land, the end of their journey. It would appear so, if he was not a man of the world. There was work still to be done.

    ¡°Guard! I am Domicus, from Lorwood!¡± He called to the morning entrance guard from a distance, hand raised. A man, one of several, stood from his post and walked to them at a brisk pace.

    ¡°Sir Domicus,¡± he said with a salute. ¡°What news from Lorwood? Are the tales true?¡± It was only to be expected that news would reach them.

    ¡°Aye. Word must be sent to High Artif Ramdel,¡± he said.

    ¡°Word has already been sent, sir. Artif Liard has been put in command. He shall be arriving in the city within a few days.¡±

    ¡°Hrmph. To be expected, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°If you would, sir, we have orders to bring you to Bertold.¡±

    ¡°Bertold?¡± The man nodded.

    ¡°The owner of the colosseum. Please, follow me, sirs.¡±

    <hr>

    The door was shorter than normal, where judging its height was hard enough to make Casser duck to be safe. The room, thankfully, was of a more acceptable height, allowing him and Lenn to stand tall, the balding man in a chair standing to greet them.

    ¡°How are ya? I¡¯m Bertold, master of the colosseum. And you are, sirs?¡± He asked, hand extended. Casser shook it as he replied.

    ¡°Casser of the Domicus,¡± he said.

    ¡°Sir Lenn,¡± Lenn replied as he shook the man¡¯s hand. He was on the shorter side. Still, the door was needlessly short.

    ¡°Well sirs, please, have a seat.¡± They took their seats in front of the desk, as Bertold took the chair on the other side. He pulled his chair forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he glanced down at the paper in front of him, then he looked up. ¡°I have to ask first. Did ya perhaps meet a tall man in robes before the, uh, incident?¡±

    ¡°So he¡¯s related, I take it?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. The fella¡¯s a bit eccentric. Most Beastmasters are, in my experience.¡±

    ¡°Would you also happen to be missing one of the beasts? A giant one wearing armor kicked us out.¡±

    ¡°Well, fuck.¡± The color of his face slowly drained away, leaving the man pale as sweat broke his brow. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sirs, but on behalf of Artif Liard I¡¯m gonna have to write down yer statements.¡±

    He lifted the paper in front of him and tossed it to Casser before he could speak, hands searching for blank paper. The one tossed his way was an official declaration, citing Bertold as temporary scribe of Artif Liard. As far as Casser could tell the signature was genuine. Not that he was accustomed to the signature in question, however.

    ¡°How much are you aware of, Bertold?¡± It needed to be asked. An official document was nice, but knights were not privy to their intricacies. They could be forged, and knights could be fooled.

    ¡°I know ya found a nest of the bastards in the woods. And now I know ya met Nalmet, that bastard, and the fuckin¡¯ monster he¡¯s been takin¡¯ care of. And you know it come from here. The document¡¯s genuine, sirs, so I plead with ya make this a quick affair.¡±

    ¡°Fine. The Beastmaster arrived in the village first, said he¡¯d been sent there by a member of the royal family on unofficial business.¡±

    Bertold¡¯s scribbles stopped. ¡°Royal family?¡±

    ¡°Yes. He didn¡¯t clarify. Seemed particularly interested in the beasts, including the one we killed. He dissected it on the spot while I was attending to my arm,¡± he said, lifting the wrapped appendage.

    The man ignored the arm. ¡°Ya killed one? How the hell¡¯d you do that?¡±

    ¡°According to him, the creatures in that area have been malnourished. Make no mistake. If he¡¯s correct, then a fully fed one of these things would have killed us all.¡±

    ¡°Did he have anything else to say about them?¡± Casser scratched his head as he tried to form the words in his head.

    ¡°He said they¡¯re intelligent. About as smart as people. And the one in armor could speak. Ordered us out of the village and made sure to keep the cattle for itself. As far as I know, no one died. Peaceful, as far as getting kicked out of your home can go, I¡¯d say.¡± The man stopped writing again, staring off into the distance halfway through Casser¡¯s words. It wouldn¡¯t be a wonder to find out he didn¡¯t hear most of what he¡¯d said.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re right fucked, then.¡±

 Lady Uthain 6

    Little Lord Robb. Unlike their uncle for whom he had been named, Lady Uthain thought he was more of a well mannered boy than the rapscallion her uncle had been in his youth. She hadn¡¯t seen it, of course, but her grandmother had told many stories. It was altogether difficult to compare the blond-haired child in front of her, sipping tea as he watched the birds outside the window, with their uncle, a man whose predilections were the most well known facet of himself.

    ¡°Are you enjoying the tea, Robb?¡±

    The boy gave a soft smile, half real and yet half courtesy. ¡°It¡¯s good.¡±

    ¡°You prefer Griar tea, don¡¯t you?¡± The boy looked away, a light blush of pink forming on his cheeks.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said meekly. For a boy with his talent, and a prince no less, his personality was not as forceful as one would expect. He lacked confidence, to put it bluntly. ¡°When does Mother come back?¡±

    ¡°Lonely already?¡± The boy nodded, and Lady Uthain rolled her eyes with a smile. ¡°Whenever Lora¡¯s sculpture is ready, I suppose. You know how much she likes tigers.¡± Robb gave her a resigned look, continuing to sip at his tea. Like their uncle, first princess Lora was smitten with art and trinkets of all kinds, though thankfully it had not become a narcissistic ordeal, as it had with their late grandfather.

    ¡°What¡¯s Lora like?¡± Robb asked. She smiled. It was a simple question, to ask what one''s own sister was like, yet it was one she could barely answer.

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure myself. We don¡¯t often speak,¡± she replied. In truth, they had hardly met. Neither seemed to be so keen as to approach the other. At this point the first princess was merely a stranger to Lady Uthain, family by blood and none else.

    The door opened without a knock, a gaunt man wearing white robes, lined with golden thread, entering without a word. Behind him, the shoulders of two knights poked out from either side of the doorway, slowly obscured by the closing door. Her father, King Alrin Uthain, stood in front of the door, eyes of piercing blue staring ahead, first at nothing, then at them.

    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Father?¡± He walked to the table, crouching down by Robb¡¯s side.

    ¡°Go play, Robb. See if Ronel can entertain you,¡± he said. Little Robb put his tea down and left the room without a word, the clang of a knight¡¯s steps sounding out as the knight followed after him down the hall.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked again. Her father sat in the chair across from her, fixated on the teacup Robb had left behind, a finger lightly scratching the surface of the table.

    ¡°The Darstin and Mythel are in full out war, now,¡± he said.

    ¡°How? It was supposed to be a minor thing.¡±

    ¡°A skirmish broke out a week ago, and Darstin burned a few men alive. One of them was Denel¡¯s cousin.¡± That would seal the conflicts fate.

    ¡°What of Mother?¡± she asked. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Her father inhaled, chest puffing out, only to deflate again. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he replied. ¡°I have only just received news. I¡¯ve sent message to her and your sister. There is nothing to worry about yet, dear. It will take time for the war to start. If all is well, they will be back to us before then.¡±

    Lady Uthain jumped at the sound of a knock at the door, her hand gripping her spoon as it opened. Her nerves were worse than she thought.

    ¡°Alrin. I didn¡¯t expect to see you,¡± Large Lord Robb said, closing the door behind him.

    ¡°Darstin and Mythel are at full war, Robb.¡± The half-smile on his face vanished.

    ¡°What of Miren and Lora?¡±

    ¡°I have just sent word to them asking them home.¡±

    ¡°Do we have time?¡±

    ¡°For now. If we act.¡± It was always the matter of it in life. Act when you can, lest it be too late.

    Robb scratched his head as he sat at the table, his mind wandering elsewhere. ¡°May I speak with Lady Uthain, Alrin?¡± he asked suddenly. It had taken him off guard, but he nodded and left.

    ¡°They¡¯ll be safe, dear,¡± he said.

    When he had left the room her uncle leaned in, staring at her with the face of a parent scolding a child. ¡°Perhaps I will let it go, considering the situation, but I must still ask you, my lady. Was it you?¡± It was obvious to her what he meant. There could only be the one thing, after all, and she did not care to drag the conversation on longer than need be.

    ¡°I did,¡± she replied. A smile returned to Robb¡¯s face, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back in his chair.

    ¡°A sneaky thing you did. You and the damned Beastmaster. Did you know? That it was intelligent, I mean?¡± So they had learned everything, after all.

    ¡°It spoke to me, so I have made some assumptions on the matter,¡± she said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know what happened then, do you?¡±

    ¡°Is this truly the right time, uncle?¡±

    ¡°Now is better than later. We have time, my lady. So, do you?¡±

    ¡°Then I cannot say that I do.¡±

    ¡°The beast took over a frontier town with a whole horde,¡± he said.

    ¡°Were there any deaths?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°It seems I have gotten lucky, then,¡± she said. Her uncle leaned in again, placing his hands on the table.

    ¡°What have you been planning?,¡± he asked. What, indeed. A plan, only half formed, left without a goal.

    ¡°I just wanted to see what would happen,¡± she said. Robb sighed as he leaned back again, arms crossed, smile gone.

    ¡°I¡¯d say I¡¯m disappointed¡ª¡±

    ¡°Oh please, do not be disappointed uncle. It is your opinion that I strive for the most, after all.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you think your head too big a burden for your shoulders, my lady. Is it such that you must carry yourself about with the hands of others holding it upright?¡±

    ¡°Do you think yourself so great, uncle, when your own plans are held together with only the rope that is my father¡¯s position?¡±

    ¡°My lady, do not push me.¡±

    ¡°Of course, dear uncle. It would be rude to push a man who has never needed to brace himself for more than a light breeze.¡±

    ¡°An oak calling a pine stiff, my lady. Our positions are no different, save that you lack forthought.¡± He stood, then, and left, leaving Lady Uthain in lonesome silence.

    Her tea cold, she sipped the remainder, calling for a maid to clean up as she approached the window of the room, looking down at the green field below, a line of the house guard standing at attention. Her uncle had been correct, a contrarian¡¯s argument the only rebuttal, and a poor one at that. The Khor was a beast, an intelligent one at that, but what use was it to her? To her family?

    Mythel came to mind.

 Nalmet 7

    The child was malnourished, like the rest, but took to squirrel stew readily enough. The Khor were lovers of meat, after all. Even their babes were raised on the blood of the kill, no different than other predators.

    Nalmet could only watch from a distance, however, as the child was fed by its mother, thick stew scooped up with a spoon and fed into the child¡¯s mouth. None of the mothers would let Nalmet approach, so he studied from afar, noting the differences in physique. The children were of various muscularities depending on age. Newborns, thin limbed and no more than a third of a meter in height with no horns to speak of, though still able to walk several hours after birth. The adolescents had begun to show the impressive growth of the species, explosively surpassing humans in average weight and height, though Nalmet stood taller than them all, their horns only just budding from their skulls. The adults, however, were of another kind, each surpassing him in height by half a meter, often more, and outweighing him to a degree that couldn¡¯t be guessed at.

    ¡°Is the child done?¡± he asked the mother. She snorted in his direction, the young cuddled beside her, lightly snoring.

    ¡°Is done, talker.¡± He stood, the Khor mother moving her arms to hide the babe from his sight. He did not move in her direction, instead walking to the other side of the village. The eating habits of the young was not what he¡¯d expected. Khor were born with fully formed teeth and ate solids from day one, forgoing the usual mammalian process of drinking their mother¡¯s milk, for which he was uncertain if they even produced any.

    On the other side of the village Nalmet approached one of the only Khor that did not mind his attention. A young female, she was one of few adults who had not yet given birth. From her appearance it could be assumed that birth did not substantially change their bodies, as there was little visible difference.

    ¡°How are you?¡± he asked. The Khor, Ura, sharpened the end of a thick branch, a pile of the stake-like spears to her side.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she replied. He studied her, noting the difference in sizes. The species exhibited sexual dimorphism in the same manner as other mammals, female Khor growing less than males, most only reaching Nalmet¡¯s own height and lacking in muscle size and weight.

    ¡°Do you plan to mate?¡± he asked. The question was blunt, but the Khor did not care, Ura least of all. They were a blunt species.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Galal,¡± she said, turning in his direction for but a moment. She was the third to respond that way. They seemed to desire him, if they possessed such a concept. He was a fine specimen. It could not be held against them.

    ¡°No one else?¡± She looked around the camp, then turned back to face him.

    ¡°Maybe you,¡± she said. Was it humor? Did they have such things? A question for later, once their biology was understood.

    ¡°May I see it again?¡± Ura responded by opening her legs, revealing her pubic region to him, just as she¡¯d done before. Bold, by human standards, but the Khor had been very considerate of his requests. Their genitals appeared no different than humans, albeit larger than average. Humans were mostly unique in the genital region, possessing proportionally large members and lacking the baculum found in other animals, including apes. The Khor being so similar in this region, as well as in their bipedalism and overall musculature¡­ what it meant, he couldn¡¯t say. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±

    Ura went back about her work, scraping shavings of bark off with a rock. They had no end of surprises, and at the same time no end to their predictability. A Beastmaster of his years should have expected no less, but disappointment still crept in, the cravings of discovering some childish fantasy ever present.

    He shook his head back to reality, standing at the edge of the village homes as he looked upon them carrying about their lives and their orders. A fence of split tree trunks had been hoisted around the perimeter, though it only surrounded the south side as of now, the women chopping tree logs in two while the men dug into the earth to plant them. Even Galal worked away, carrying the half-logs to the village edge and steadying them as the others surrounded the base with dirt. Nalmet was not an architect, nor a warrior. If they would hold or not, he didn¡¯t know, though even Galal had had difficulty knocking them over. If he could not do it, then they must have been sturdy indeed.

    Approaching the field of cattle, a familiar whiff of manure struck him. The cattle, a mix of beef and dairy, were grass fed animals, adequately taken care of by the villagers that once claimed these lands. In their absence, the task had fallen to Nalmet while he taught his methods to the Khor. They were hunters, scavengers. The act of raising and farming was unknown to them, worsened by the pungence of blood that seemed to soak into their fur, making the cattle weary of their presence.

    It was an unremarkable duty, lacking in the ways of the mind, but it allowed him to study the Khor. Their habits, their intelligence. How they would pick up knowledge easily, though to innovate themselves seemed beyond them as of yet. It could not be helped. Even humans produced few innovators.

    Sunlight faded, the day done, and Nalmet walked to his quarters, a home on the edge of the village, close to the cattle. He was not secluded, sectioned off like some outcast, but he lived alone. It was a strange feeling. To be used by what he once considered beasts, to be the one studied, rather than strictly the studier. An odd feeling indeed.

 Galal 9

    ¡°Shields!¡± The bellow released a cloud of white steam in the cold morning air, cloven feet pounding into the dirt as shields of wood were raised to form a wall of wood. ¡°Spears!¡± At the call, wooden stakes rose to match the shields. For a man to approach would be to court death, to leave the decision in the hands of the Khor. His Khor.

    ¡°Hoooh,¡± they called, the wooden spears thrusting out towards him. Too slow, they merely collided with his own shield as he moved in, his hand grabbing the nearest shield and pulling it away, his own spear jabbing into the Khor behind it. The Khor brayed as he fell, the others to the side backing away, turning their shields and spears towards him. They were warriors, yes, but they were not soldiers. They did not know how to work together, nor how to defend themselves properly. He barely knew it himself, making mock formations that failed to match the real thing, relying more on physical ability than training.

    ¡°Up,¡± he said to the fallen Khor. The spears had been blunted, no more that clubs in their hands. Mighty as they were with clubs alone, they were better with spears. ¡°Spar.¡± The Khor gave no complaints, matching up with each other, jabbing at one another and blocking blows with shields. None dared approached Galal. The result would be obvious.

    He watched them, correcting their stances as they fought, berating those who learned too slow and offering no words of congratulations for those who succeeded. To win was its own prize.

    The tribes males were few in number. Six, not including himself or the ones too young. Even of the six adults, several were still growing. The rest of the tribe were females and children, ten of each. Twenty-six in total, plus the talker. A tribe, now a village, but no city. No country.

    ¡°Do the Khor sweat?¡± Looking to his side, he saw the talker. Nalmet. A hard name to pronounce.

    ¡°What is sweat?¡± Galal asked. He had not heard the word.

    ¡°Hard to explain. Does water come from your body when it is hot, or when you are active?¡±

    ¡°We do,¡± he replied. An odd question. ¡°Do humans?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± What was the point in asking? Nalmet remained silent, continuing to view the mock battles before them.

    ¡°We need food,¡± he said after a moment.

    ¡°Cattle.¡±

    ¡°Not enough of them. We need to maintain the number we have.¡±

    ¡°Hunting, then.¡±

    ¡°If you can. This is not a great location. You need to think further ahead.¡±If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°What would you suggest?¡±

    ¡°I do not know the area any better than you. Do the Khor fish? Is there a nearby lake?¡±

    ¡°No lakes. Only death water further north.¡±

    ¡°Death water?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t drink it. Bad taste, makes you sick.¡±

    ¡°Salt water, if I would hazard to guess. Interesting. We should investigate later.¡±

    ¡°Fine. For now, hunting!¡± The sparring Khor ceased their battles, looking to Galal. ¡°Get true spears!¡± They followed his commands, dropping their practice weapons and shields in a pile, each collecting a single large stake and standing before him. ¡°Follow!¡±

    Galal led them, entering the woods opposite from where they once came. The Khor, despite their sizes, were quiet hunters, the group moving through the woods with nary a sound. The woods were becoming empty, obvious from the smell of it. Earth, dirt, leaves, plants. All inedible to the Khor.

    They moved quickly, pacing through the woods, moving down wind as they went. Their own smells would travel in the air, a warning to any prey, yet a temptation to predators. Blood could mean many things, and the Khor reaked of it.

    ¡°Bear.¡± Galal stopped, the others with him, as they caught the scent. Upwind, though far. They moved towards it, their pace slowed as they crept to its source. Time passed in silence, then they saw it. Three cubs, and a mother more than twice their size. ¡°Get the cubs,¡± he ordered. ¡°Go.¡±

    The Khor were swift, Galal leading the charge, spear in hand. He leapt at the black furred animal, his wooden spear puncturing the beast, the animal collapsing with a roar as it bled. Its cubs were luckier, several spears cutting through their necks and sides, their deaths far more swift than their mothers. Galal pulled the spear away and struck the creature again, the second blow ending its life. Iron air filled his nostrils, blood rushing to his lungs as he let loose a roar that cascaded through the woods, birds hidden within the trees revealing themselves as they fled.

    The Khor followed suit, releasing their own roars in tandem with his own. The echoes dying down, he lifted the carcass, tossing it over his shoulder, blood dripping down his fur. The others did the same with the cubs, three of the carrying the spoils of their hunt as they walked back, the others trailing behind as guards. Other beasts wouldn¡¯t come after their victory cry, but starved beasts were foolish creatures.

    <hr>

    ¡°I can guess from when you were in the colosseum, but do Khor not skin animals?¡± Nalmet asked. Always with the questions.

    ¡°No. We pull the fur away and eat,¡± Galal replied, dropping the carcass onto the ground. The talker had given him no reprieve, coming to him with the question as soon as they arrived. His mind worked too much.

    Nalmet handed him a human dagger, though it was no more than a knife in his own hands. ¡°Skin it,¡± the man said. He took the blade and stuck the corpse, slicing along the underbelly. ¡°Now pull the skin back gently, and cut this part,¡± he said, guiding Galal as he severed the fur from the meat. At the end, the man took the bear hide himself. ¡°Good enough. Would you like to do the rest?¡±

    ¡°For what purpose?¡±

    ¡°Tanning. The animal¡¯s hide can be made into clothing or used for warmth. Sold, if you want to trade with humans,¡± he said.

    Relenting to the man¡¯s words, Galal skinned the cubs as well as the eldest females carved the bear fat and meat, adding it all to a boiling pot. It was a simple haul, perhaps enough for a few days. Not enough to last a full tribe long. Unsustainable.

    ¡°Talker,¡± he called out, the man turning around. ¡°Could we trade with humans?¡±

 Casser 5

    A man in blue clothes and a woman in a yellow dress entered the room together, the castle guard flanking them. The man was unremarkable, with the exception of his clothes, and the woman was young. Pretty, if Casser cared for such things. They closed the door, leaving the guards outside. Safe enough, considering Casser was a knight himself, and Bertold an ally of theirs. Lord Robb and Lady Uthain, the royals responsible for the beast.

    ¡°My lord, my lady,¡± he said, standing and bowing to them.

    ¡°Sir Casser, please, have a seat.¡± He took it, the two of them rounding the table to the other side.

    ¡°Shall we start with Darstin and Mythel? Or the beasts?¡± Bertold asked, starting the conversation.

    ¡°If I may give my opinion,¡± Casser said, looking to Lord Robb.

    ¡°Please, speak freely,¡± said Lord Robb.

    ¡°Thank you my lord. The issue of Mythel should be discussed first, in my opinion, considering the circumstances,¡± Casser offered. Darstin, a land of fools it seemed, had declared war on the Uthain kingdom, and with the First Princess and the Queen in Mythel, concern of their safety should take priority.

    ¡°Indeed. I¡¯ve received word that they¡¯re pushing through to Mythel¡¯s capital. If they make it there, they¡¯ll have two royal families under siege,¡± said Robb. A quick offensive, but a bad one. Darstin was serious, but weak. They wouldn¡¯t last long in a straight offensive. Resorting to hit and run tactics or wanton slaughter of the populace would be their best fallback, hitting a little of everything to deplete resources and lower citizen morale.

    ¡°Could we send a small force to evacuate them?¡± Lady Uthain suggested.

    ¡°Perhaps. However, if they have sense they¡¯ll evacuate themselves to a hidden location.¡± Casser replied.

    ¡°Would they hide two royal families together?¡± She asked. They wouldn¡¯t, except in extreme emergencies. Too dangerous to keep them together.

    ¡°They have already sent word. The Queen and Princess Lora are hidden near the northern border, somewhere in the Rudduck forest,¡± Lord Robb said. ¡°They should be safe for the time being, but my brother and I would much prefer them on our soil.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Could ya go, Casser?¡± Bertold asked.

    ¡°I would need more men, at a minimum another Domicus to work with and a few riders.¡±

    ¡°Done,¡± Lord Robb said.

    ¡°I will ride when needed, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Now then, what of Nalmet and his pets?¡± asked Bertold. Always quick to make it about his investments. There was no tact to be had with him.

    ¡°Is there a reason we should not kill them?¡± Robb asked bluntly. It seemed he lacked tact, himself.

    Casser sighed as they looked to one another for an answer, then to him when none came. They must have seen it on his face. The reluctance. ¡°It would take a lot of men that would be best used defending the border and the fields.¡±

    ¡°Do you think them not a threat, sir? After all they have done?¡±

    ¡°Oh, they are a threat, my lord. But only we make them one.¡±

    Lord Robb looked at him quizzically. ¡°Could you explain, sir?¡±

    Lady Uthain interjected in his place. ¡°They are intelligent, uncle. And not entirely violent, considering their actions in Lorwood.¡±

    ¡°What would ya suggest, my lady?¡± asked Bertold.

    ¡°Make use of them. They are a powerful race, but yet lack numbers. Resources. I say make them a deal, food in exchange for fighting Darstin¡¯s army.¡±

    ¡°Do they have enough forces?¡±

    ¡°Just one well fed one could kill a dozen men, maybe two, if given the right weapon. If they are taught, given armor, I fear to imagine,¡± Casser replied. They were powerful beasts. One, malnourished and on the edge of death, had nearly killed him and his men. Two would have finished them off. It was not hard to imagine the carnage they would bring.

    ¡°But what of their temperment? Do you think they would turn on us?¡± A difficult question. With a beast the answer was simple. With humans, not so much. Combine the two¡­

    ¡°I cannot say. I don¡¯t think anyone could, besides the Beastmaster looking after them.¡± Lord Robb nodded, silent, a hand caressing his chin as he stared off in thought.

    After a time, he spoke. ¡°We will send an envoy to communicate with them. What should we send as a peace offering?¡±

    ¡°Meat,¡± Casser replied. ¡°I have no doubts that they are hefty eaters of meat.¡±

    ¡°Cattle, then. Perhaps a few deer.¡± He fell to silence again. ¡°Should we arm them?¡±

    ¡°Seems one of them is already armed. A cuirass and a mace, as I recall?¡± Casser said.

    ¡°That would be my doing,¡± Lady Uthain said.

    Casser raised a brow at that, but spoke nothing of it. ¡°Regardless, I believe we should hold it off, for now. At least until we are certain they will agree with our proposal.¡±

    ¡°Then that settles it,¡± Bertold said.

    ¡°Indeed.¡± Lord Robb stood, Lady Uthain with him. ¡°Good day sir Casser, Bertold. It has been a pleasure speaking with you both. May you have victory in your upcoming endeavors.¡±

    ¡°You as well, my lord.¡±

 Lady Uthain 7

    She approached the stables, the sound of gnawing and the irony smell of blood forming a wall at the door as she opened it. She pushed through, entering the blood soaked air of the stable, wishing that it smelled of the horse manure that she once cursed. The Khor made you rethink many things.

    The lot of them sat or stood, huddled together as they pulled flesh from bone, the bones of a cattle picked clean resting in the far corner. There were only five of them, each wearing mail while the largest wore a cuirass. Galal, the one she had met some time ago, had become much larger than her memory. The stable was barely tall enough to stand in, even when he crouched.

    ¡°Galal,¡± she said in greeting. She had had his attention since she came inside, probably before. Keen senses of smell, it turned out. As good as a hounds, maybe better.

    ¡°Uthain,¡± the Khor said. The title of Lady never seemed to cross the beasts lips, if they could be called that. It was doubtful he remembered it at all.

    ¡°Will the Khor be ready by next week?¡± She asked. Galal nodded, eyes flickering between her and her guards. He could smell their fear, she assumed. She didn¡¯t even need to be able to smell it to know how afraid they were. She was just as afraid, maybe more so. They had weapons and were closer to the door, after all.

    Galal moved, changing his posture and straightening his back, his horns scraping against the roof. Her guards moved closer, their spears never pointing his way. The Khor were aggressive. A spear pointed their way might be seen as a challenge. A challenge humans would lose.

    ¡°Our treaty,¡± he began. ¡°When will it be official?¡±

    ¡°When we¡¯re done discussing it,¡± she said.

    ¡°We will be citizens. We will be provided food. We will be taught to build, to sustain ourselves, as you humans do.¡± No question. Not even demands. He merely said what would happen, and she feared to say no.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Fifteen kilograms of fish, twenty-five kilograms of mixed cattle and game meat, and ten kilograms of potatoes and bread will be sent monthly. You will all be considered citizens of the kingdom and subject to the military draft, and absolved of citizenly duties related to tax until such a time that taxation would not be considered an undue burden, and craftsman, smiths, and farmers will be sent to reside in your village to teach you their arts.¡±

    The Khor nodded at her words, uncomplaining. It was not the most beneficial deal. Nothing more than a pet project, as far as her father and uncle were concerned. An expense to keep her busy. They didn¡¯t seem to grasp the weight of the situation she was moulding.

    ¡°What is our goal?¡±

    ¡°A country to the west, called Darstin. You will be escorted there by a team of knights, then you will cross the border with them. They will guide you to where you are needed, you need only kill who they tell you to, and capture who they tell you to.¡±

    ¡°Understood.¡± He shifted again, moving closer, blood-drenched breath brushing against her face as he spoke. ¡°One other thing, Uthain. I will bring together the Khor. Our village will grow, first to a town, then a city. With time we will be a nation all our own.¡±

    Lady Uthain swallowed, looking everywhere but at him. ¡°You will need to be self sustaining, then. The kingdom will not give you more than what we are agreeing to now.¡±

    ¡°That is fine with me,¡± he said.

    ¡°The kingdom also demands that, at such a time, you will become a vassal.¡± The words escaped her mouth sterner than she felt. They had confidence where she did not.

    Galal moved again, leaning away from her. ¡°I accept,¡± he said. ¡°Are we done?¡±

    ¡°We are,¡± she replied. His attention turned to the others, the guttural words of their kind oozing from his mouth. She went to leave, backing away from them, not daring to turn. The knights opened the door for her, letter her pass through the doorway first, shutting it hurriedly behind them as the went to flank her.

    Memories popped into her mind. First, her meeting with the beast, then the battle she witnessed. A frightening thought, to face them. Pity would be due, if she had any to give. But there was no pity to be had in war.

 Galal 10 - A Battle Begins

    Lights flickered in the distance, the shape of rectangular walls barely visible against the backdrop of grey-blue night. Smoke rose, trailing across the stars above, charcoal filling his nostrils. None moved as they watched the fort. The humans who escorted them stood off to the side, half watching the fort, half watching them. Fearful beings, humans. After this night, they would only grow more so.

    Galal led the charge, walking across the field as the night guard turned away. He went slowly, allowing the shadows of night to obscure his form, the other Khor following his lead. The field was empty, a flat field devoid of cover. The guard came again, looking out across the field. They stopped, waiting for him to pass or to respond, continuing their pursuit as the guard turned away, unalarmed.

    They came upon the fort walls, stone that barely stood over their own heights, forcing Galal to kneel to hide his horns. Another guard came back around, stopping above them and looking out. Galal leapt up, grabbing the man and pulling him from the rampart, silencing the man¡¯s wail by crushing his windpipe. A soft gurgly escaped the man¡¯s lips as blood dripped from them, body motionless as he died.

    ¡°Attack.¡± The Khor followed, climbing over the low the fort wall and leaping from the rampart into the enemy forces below. The fort was but a castle without a ceiling, a flat field of tents housing sleeping soldiers awoken by the roars of living nightmares. Those closest to the Khor¡¯s intrusion gave yelps and cries, most barely able to rouse themselves before being stabbed or trampled.

    Armored guards approached them first, forming walls of steel as they stood between the Khor and the army of soldiers. Archers lined up in the distance, loosing a volley of arrows towards them, pelting their shields, some grunting as the arrows lodged themselves in an arm or leg.

    ¡°Kill the archers!¡± The Khor roared as one, Galal leading, lashing out with his makeshift spear. The spear, as thick as an arm, pierced the closest knight through the chest, lodging itself in the dented metal of the man¡¯s armor. He released the spear, bringing forth the mace from his back and striking the closest shield. The man holding it screamed as the shield fell to his side, silenced by another thud of his mace to the side of his head.

    The Khor gathered around him in a circle as the humans began to surround them, their shields blocking spear and arrow alike, their own either sliding off the steel shields or killing man after man. A stray spear made it past the shields, slicing the leg of the Khor next to him. The Khor fell to a knee, raising the shield up to cover his body.

    ¡°I¡¯m going!¡± Galal pushed through the spears with his shield, swinging his mace into the mass of flesh and armor that formed the wall of humans. Two, maybe three heads were crushed or torn off completely, those surrounding the dead men backing away, yelling curses in some language or other. He paid their words no mind, bashing the closest soldier to the ground and caving in his chest with a stomp.

    The men seemed endless, another taking the place of those killed, Galal¡¯s entire body moving back and forth. The dead slowed them all down, man and Khor alike, as their bodies began to pile around them. He stepped carefully, plant his foot between the corpses as he swerved through the mess of men and spears, knocking over, stomping on, or mangling anyone within reach. The other Khor moved behind him, a circular wall of blood splattered wood. Their own spears had begun to falter, the tips having dulled and become no more than clubs to swing with. One abandoned it entirely, throwing it into the crowd of men before him, pulling a spear straight from a man¡¯s hands and turning its point to them.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Finally, they came. Soldiers in green appeared from above the fort walls by the gate, the men hopping down from the rampart and opening the wooden doors. Uthain soldiers poured in, catching the fort¡¯s men from behind, crashing into them with raised shields. Picking up the pace, Galal moved through the men, his mace obliterating those that didn¡¯t retreat. Following his lead, the Khor broke from their formation, charging through the crowds of men, sending them to the ground and trampling them beneath their feet.

    Uthain knights and the soldiers they led cut through them, the Khor doing their part to destabilize them from the other side, keeping their attentions split. Before long, only a pocket full of dying Darstin men remained, the fort filled with a veritable puddle of lifeblood.

    Medicine men attended to the injured Khor. Some had nearly passed to oblivion, but none died, injured at worst. They would heal, with the right care, if what the humans said was true. In the relatively quiet murmur of words spoken by man and Khor alike, Galal gazed at sky, its dark blue color fading as morning grew closer.

    One hundred men had rested here, preparing for war and all it wrought. One hundred men died here, unprepared for the Khor.

    The one leading the Uthain soldiers, an Artif as they called it, entered once the deed had been done, his assistants scrounging up anything of worth. Notes, maps, books. Information. A powerful force, knowledge.

    The Artif, a man named Liard, approached him while the assistants went about their work.

    ¡°Congratulations,¡± he said.

    Galal turned from him as he replied. ¡°We were overwhelmed before your men came. A failure, in my eyes.¡±

    ¡°It is the way of war, Galal. For all of us to play our part.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. But we Khor can be better.¡±

    ¡°Then become better. Learn.¡± Galal didn¡¯t reply. It was truth. The Khor were powerful, but there was much they lacked. Warriors they were, warriors they could be, without hesitation. To be a soldier required discipline. Time. ¡°May I ask something?¡± the Artif asked.

    ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°You are aware of who I am, yes? With what I did?¡± The colosseum.

    ¡°I am.¡± He didn¡¯t say more. He¡¯d let the man sweat a little. He had thought about it. About revenge. It¡¯s consequences. It wasn¡¯t worth it. Not to him.

    ¡°Well, regardless, our next order of business is holding the fort,¡± the Artif said.

    ¡°Holding it?¡±

    ¡°The 3rd division will be coming through this area and using it as a base of operations. The men staying here were a preliminary force. And a test for the Khor, of course. As much as you say it was a failure, we had too few men to take over the fort without you.¡±

    ¡°So they will try to take it back?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s likely. Once they figure out it¡¯s been taken over, they won¡¯t be able to afford letting us have it.¡±

    ¡°Then the fort will remain ours.¡±

    ¡°I enjoy your confidence, but it will be difficult. I will be heading back with some of my men, so there will only be half as many men to defend as there was to take it, and one of the Khor is too injured to remain here.¡±

    ¡°We will do it regardless, if it must be done.¡±

    ¡°It must.¡±

    ¡°Then it will be done.¡±

 Casser 6

    Nothing marked the border between Mythel and the Uthain kingdom, except trees. On the Uthain side was open field that had overgrown with grass, an ocean of green and the occasional prickle of color popping out. On Mythel side were trees that lined up as far as the eye could see. Technically, the border was probably a few meters from the treeline, past where they rode their horses, but for them the treeline was the border.

    They rode north, men silent as horses huffed and feet galloped over the land, the grass forming a trail behind them as it was squashed under their horses. The leader of the group, Riger, signalled to them, and they slowed to a trot, moving west as one. They entered the woods together, each of them taking out a vial of liquid and pouring it over themselves. None of them knew what it was, just that it smelled strong, the stench like a knife to the nostril. The scent faded over time, but it still kept the animals away. Keener noses, Casser guessed.

    Sunlight rarely came in beams through the forest ceiling, and otherwise the forest was dark, barely lit but the glorious sun above. There was enough light to see, but their eyes would take time to adjust fully. Until then, they moved at a crawl as their horses trotted after Riger¡¯s own.

    Frogs croaked in the distance, and Riger turned his horse, moving toward the sound. At times the sound seemed to come from every direction, the sound bouncing around the trees. They kept inching closer, regardless, and eventually came upon the Mythel camp. At the center sat a man upon a log, cloaked in dull steel and black cloth that covered his limbs and head. His face turned from the knights, a green glow emanated from within the cloth, coating a small horn of white. The man blew into the horn once more, releasing the croak of a frog once more.

    ¡°Have you seen a silver bird flying around?¡± Riger asked. The cloaked man turned, and Casser saw what caused the glow. Eyes of brilliant glowing green stared back at them. A seer.

    ¡°Nay, only brown and gold.¡± The man stood from his log, exchanging a nod with Riger. He mounted his own horse. ¡°Follow,¡± he said.

    They followed behind, forest trees growing ever more sparse as they went, falling away into open space and even ground. Easy to travel through. Eventually, the sky above began to reveal itself as well, little by little, the dark green of leaves and pine needles replaced by light blue. And a column of black.

    Riger stopped as the seer held up a fist, everyone else following suit. The seer turned to Riger first, then to Casser, eyes glowing brightly enough to wash the man¡¯s head in a green aura. ¡°You,¡± he said, pointing to Casser.

    ¡°Me what?¡±

    ¡°The smoke ahead. Darstin. They will head north, as we will. You must distract. Then, north.¡±

    ¡°Not kill them?¡±

    ¡°They are many.¡±

    ¡°Not much of a problem for a Domicus,¡± Riger replied. They were not mere knights. No task was too brutal, too bloody, too dangerous.

    ¡°Run and shoot, then,¡± the seer replied. Casser nodded to the man, then to Riger, leading his horse and his men slightly south. There was no arguing with a seer.

    He turned his head back. ¡°Will we live?¡± He asked. The seer¡¯s face lit up again, then faded to a faint glow.

    ¡°You must,¡± he said. ¡°There is more for you yet.¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    <hr>

    The camp numbered somewhere between twenty and thirty men. Only a handful were fully armored in plate, but all were soldiers. Whatever the seer saw, it must have been accurate. A direct assault wouldn''t work. Casser sat in his saddle, bow in hand, watching and waiting. His men had done the same, all of them spread out and ready. He raised his bow, and they mimicked him. Run and shoot

    They let loose their arrows in silence, Casser first and his men following, the arrows zipping through the air to their targets. They struck four men huddled around the campfire, piercing through them in a mix of location, only two instantly lethal. The Darstin soldiers reacted at once, scrambling about, yelling as they dove for cover or grabbed their shields and weapons.

    Remaining seated in their saddles, Casser¡¯s group awaited the Darstin men as they knocked their arrows and let loose another volley. Some charged straight at them, sword or spear in hand, and were put to eternal rest in quick order. Others formed shield walls around their horses as mounted knights rallied them to order.

    Wind greeted Casser¡¯s face as he urged his horse into a gallop. Slow, at first, he circled the camp, loosing arrows at mounted knights and shielded soldiers alike, only one lucky enough to pierce through the eyehole of a knights helmet. The man¡¯s body fell, a foot caught in a stirrup, dragged across the ground as the horse attempted to flee, the knight¡¯s body catching a soldier¡¯s foot, tripping him the ground.

    A wave of soldiers finally began chase on horseback, following after the retreating group over open plain. Casser twisted in his saddle, launching another arrow at the closest soldier and barely piercing the man¡¯s chest. Spurring his horse faster, wind filled his ears, blocking out even the footfalls of his companions¡¯ horses.

    An arrow zoomed past his head with a clink, helmet rattling against his head as the arrow embedded itself into the ground below. Behind them Darstin soldiers with bows followed the example they had set, knocking arrows and taking aim. He turned in his saddle once more, bow in hand, ignoring the arrows clinking off his plate armor as he returned fire.

    Man after man fell dead from their horses, bodies crumpling to the dirt below, others balanced neatly on the backs of their steeds. Dwindling in number, the Domicus was left alone with his knights, riding through green brush. They halted, turning back from whence they came, each alive, nary a scratch save an arrow sticking from Jof¡¯s shoulder. Ahead of them were the approaching Darstin troops, too far to bother with arrows yet.

    ¡°How many did you get? Totals.¡± Casser asked the knights.

    ¡°Two,¡± Jof replied.

    ¡°Three, maybe four,¡± Bronel said.

    ¡°Same as Bron,¡± Lenn said. Cass got four himself, maybe five or six.

    ¡°A little over ten, then.¡± He smiled beneath his helmet, though he knew they couldn¡¯t see it. A sad thing, to have emotions hidden unwillingly, but better than an arrow or sword to the face.

    ¡°A decent chunk,¡± Lenn said.

    ¡°Aye.¡± Knocking an arrow, Casser took aim at the approaching men. ¡°Let¡¯s not make this a final stand, shall we?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± his men replied. He loosed his arrow first, as before, piercing the leg of a soldier. A bad shot. He tried again, this time killing a soldiers horse, the beast collapsing to the ground only for another to crash into its corpse. Others fell to the arrows of his companions, leaving two armored knights left, charging with spears in hand, both aimed at Casser. He jumped from his horse, the spears slicing through the air of where had been. One had aimed for his horse, the poor beast screeching as a spear stuck into its body.

    He knelt low by his horse as he took aim, his arrow thunking into the closest knight, the other being turned into a human porcupine. They fell, dead, Casser¡¯s horse doing the same, though death greeted the animal slowly. He knelt at its side, patting it in some vain attempt to calm the dying beast. It was always the hardest part, for him, to see his animals die. They could be mean, at times, but only humans could be evil, or so he liked to believe.

    It lay in the grass, surrounded by its own blood, giving one last whimpering sound he didn¡¯t know a horse could make, then fell motionless. He stood, then, and walked from yet another fallen steed, pushing the corpse of some Darstin man from the saddle of a brown mare and mounting it in quick order. War did not give time to mourn for long, if at all. A fact every knight knew, the Domicus especially.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯ll go to their camp first, then north.¡±

 Nalmet 8

    He awoke to dim light, eyelids flashing open as some dream came abruptly to an end, its details fading just as quick. A knife. It was the only thing he could remember. Blood, perhaps? Or maybe a jam? Something red, at least.

    The tiny dwelling he called home was still covered in the recesses of darkness, like a black fog or mist. Dawn would come soon enough, so he stood from his bed and clothed himself, robes fluttering as he draped them over himself. Sitting in silence, candle lit, he chewed a breakfast of bread, a small string of jerky, and an apple. Cold, as the air was, but it worked well enough. Cooking was not one of his skills, to begin with.

    Sunlight had begun to brighten the sky as he left his home, though the sun had not yet risen. Most Khor slept, though some had begun their day. Restless? Or something else? He¡¯d have to ask. Later.

    Manure greeted his nostrils as he entered the barn, every cow stock still even as he moved about, moving hay and grain about. Mundane work. The work of a farmer or a rancher. His work, now, though he hoped not for long. A war had started, after all, and as safe as he was here, curiosity had begun to eat at his sanity.

    Dawn came, its warmth heating the dew on the grass and the trees, evaporating it into a thick mist that oozed across the land, like milk dripping across the surface of a table. It was a short time after that the envoy arrived.

    Bearing shirts and shields of a black tree upon a green background, soldiers and knights alike entered the village upon horseback, several carts held at the center of their formation. They stopped at a distance, none daring to approach the village itself, either from their own fear or the fear of their horses, several of them rearing up on their hind legs and almost dismounting their riders.

    One man dismounted and approached by foot. A knight without a helmet, bald at first glance, though as he grew closer Nalmet could see the tiny pricks of hairs that had begun to grow back over his shaven head. ¡°The Beastmaster, I assume?¡±

    ¡°I am indeed, sir. It is a pleasure to be meeting with you.¡±

    ¡°And you, I.¡± He looked past Nalmet for a moment. ¡°Large creatures, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Very large. The adult males are much larger, though, and their leader in particular is¡­ well, to put it simply, he is a giant. I believe twice my own height, though I have not been able to measure him.¡± The knight stepped back at his words, glancing above Nalmet¡¯s own head in an attempt to picture the beast.

    ¡°I hope to never meet the beast,¡± he said. ¡°Regardless, we have come with your shipment.¡±

    ¡°I thank thee.¡±

    ¡°Tis not the only thing I have come for, I¡¯m afraid. You¡¯ve experience with the beasts, and I¡¯ve been asked to procure notes from you. On their language, behaviors, anything you can give.¡±

    ¡°And if I refuse?¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I won¡¯t take it by force. Not that I feel I could. But I¡¯ve been given authority to barter, if you¡¯re open to it.¡± A tempting thought, to make coin from papers. If only he valued coin more than knowledge.

    ¡°I do not have any duplicates of my notes at the moment, I¡¯m sorry to say.¡±

    ¡°But you are open to an offer?¡± The man asked.

    ¡°Yes, but you would have to come again at another time. I am not keen on relinquishing all of my notes just yet, you see.¡±

    The man paused a moment, thinking. ¡°What about a portion of them? Just what you¡¯re willing to part with, and I can have duplicates made and sent back.¡±

    An intriguing idea. True, he did not need them all. Some were too redundant, mere details of their physical bodies, and while large and intelligent, the occupating organs of the chest cavity were nothing exceptional. It was a good deal.

    He nodded. ¡°I can give about a third of my notes, in that case. Mostly about their physical body, although some of it is language and culture details. Just the basics, mind you, things I have etched into my mind already.¡±

    ¡°Well enough, Beastmaster. As to price¡­¡±

    ¡°It need not be coin alone, sir. In all truth I would like an opportunity to venture to the front and observe the soldiers. With guards, of course.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do. For now, however, I can promise only coin. 500 silver for a what you¡¯ve offered of your notes.¡±

    ¡°500?¡± It was a sizeable amount, a fortune by most standards. Enough to last a village a decade, longer if used wisely. ¡°That is quite the amount. Who is funding this transaction, if I may ask?¡±

    ¡°Maybe I shouldn¡¯t say, but they didn¡¯t forbid it. Beastmaster Yedil has asked for them. I¡¯m sure you know of him?¡±

    ¡°Know of him? Certainly. I wouldn¡¯t be where I am if not for him. He taught me quite a bit about the mascael.¡±

    ¡°A mascael?¡±

    ¡°Tall, thin monsters. They appear as trees from a distance, but are ferocious carnivores.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a tale a mum tells her children to me,¡± the knight said, a look of healthy skepticism grown on his face. Always good, in moderation.

    ¡°Aye, it may very well be. It wouldn¡¯t be the first creature to inspire such tales.¡± The man¡¯s brow furrowed, either concerned or confused. Both, more than likely.

    ¡°Well, anyways, we can discuss the procurement of your other notes at another time. For now, I¡¯ll get your payment. It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Beastmaster.¡±

    ¡°As with you, sir.¡±

    The man turned and left, and only now did Nalmet notice the soldiers unloading the carts. Too consumed in the conversation. His senses had dulled, it seemed. Forgetful. Khor did not make for liars, so he grew lax. He¡¯d have to correct himself.

    Entering his home, he took his notes from their spot - hidden in a compartment he carved himself under the table - and rummaged through them, glancing at page after page, separating out those he needn¡¯t any longer, jotting down what few details that hadn¡¯t been written to memory.

    Once done, he complied his notes, giving one last cautious glance around his home and its openings before hiding the notes away again under the table. He left, walking to the edge and presenting them to the knight, exchanging them for the small box in his hands. The box was heavy enough, but he opened it regardless, moving the small towers of coins, making certain the box contained what was promised.

    ¡°That paranoid, are ya?¡± The knight asked.

    ¡°Cautious, in my mind.¡±

    ¡°Hm. Well, it has been a pleasure.¡± The knight turned for a moment, then back. ¡°I almost forgot. In the east, near the Flooded gates, there¡¯s more of them. The Khor, I mean.¡±

 Galal 11 - The Blood of War

    Blood still drenched the air, even a week after burning the bodies. An odd custom, but it was to ward away corpse eaters, unusual creatures as large as a small horse and native to Mythel. He had hoped to fight one. Instead, Galal¡¯s days had been filled with menial work, carrying supplies from area to area as the humans rebuilt the walls of the fort. When not carrying supplies, he fought with the other Khor or took lessons from the human knights.

    Night turned to day, and day fell to night, cycling between the two as time passed. After a week the walls and gate had been rebuilt and fortified, the ground surrounding the walls laid with trap holes filled with wooden stakes. It was more defensible now, apparently. It would need to be.

    ¡°A thousand men?¡± He asked aloud. The words were for himself, but the knight before him answered anyways, unaware.

    ¡°At least that many. Possibly two.¡± There was fear plaguing the air here. They numbered less than a hundred now, the main force still on the Uthain side of the border. It was a suicide mission to stay and protect this place, and the men knew it, unable to even pass the time with games as they had almost every night before.

    Galal walked about the Khor, listening to their clicks as he passed them by. ¡°We will die if we stay,¡± he said. They knew. They were as afraid as well. Not as much, mind, but fearful enough to smell it. ¡°You will go.¡±

    ¡°We will stay.¡± They wouldn¡¯t change their minds. He knew it all too well. They wouldn¡¯t leave him, even if he told them to. And he wouldn¡¯t leave the fort. He needed to fight. And if he were to die in battle, it would be a death he could accept.

    ¡°Fine,¡± he replied. He walked away from them, to the walls, and climbed utop the rampart. On the other side, toward Uthain land, there was an open clearing of about a hundred meters. But right in front of him was open land that stretched out for hundreds before it fell a bit, the land dipping down out of sight before rising again in the distance. That¡¯s where he had seen their approach three nights ago. A sea of brown, dotted by hundreds of tiny lights that shone with clarity in the night. A brazen display, a show of pride, a show of confidence. Confidence that they would take the fort and continue onwards, no matter what they did.

    Now, in midday, he saw them again as the row of brown appeared from beneath the dip in the land, the shine of metal glimmering off of armor and spear tips. The Uthain humans scrambled about, called to activity by the warning sound of a horn. And for all of it, Galal did not but wait, chest heaving slowly as he breathed, staring upon the Darstin army. A true army, unlike any he had seen before. As many men as a town, each ready to throw their lives away. Men who didn¡¯t know of Galal, of the Khor.

    At the start of it Galal sat at the center of the fort, surrounded by his Khor and several knights, shields risen to protect against the volleys of arrows that were exchanged. They had not to do until the gate broke, watching as men upon the ramparts shot arrows or fell to the returning fire of their invaders, others thrusting down with spears as men tried to climb the walls with ladders. The gate began to crack with powerful thuds, wood splintering, walls crumbling. Finally the gate collapsed, its hinges broken free from rock. The Khor led the onslaught, roaring as they charged the invaders, forming a second gate of their own. Steel met bone and blood and flesh and more steel. Men crumpled as their chests caved in to the powerful strikes of Galal¡¯s mace, others as spears pierced their hearts or swords sliced their necks. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    They pushed forward against their shields, ten or twenty men and countless men behind them against five Khor, barely budging as Uthain men slipped between the shields to cut down invader after invader.

    Fear grew, in all of them. Darstin, Uthain, Khor. It permeated the air, enough to choke on if not for the blood and shit they had already begun to choke on, an ocean of scents that clogged the mind. Nothing to focus on, Galal swung his mace to and fro, clobbering the nearest man at every opportunity. Spear tips danced around him, scraping against his own armor. None aimed for his legs, their minds having been clouded at the sight of him, a giant mass of fur, muscle, and horns, a hellspawn given life that punished those who encroached upon his lands with death.

    His mace met the body of soldier after soldier, knight after knight, each crushed beneath his blows and sending red viscera into the air. Three walls of bodies formed at the gate, two living and one dead between them. With a wall of carnage between them, neither approached the other. But blood was beating through him, risen to the surface, desiring escape.

    Galal charged through the wall of corpses, crushing them beneath his hooves as he leapt at the enemies. Spears met his chest plate, skidding off the sides as he pushed through. Spots of pressure had started to appear throughout his body. Legs, arms, chest, they sprung up everywhere, each one ignored as he sent more to the grave.

    Pain finally came in his chest, an arrow as thick as his finger sticking from his shoulder, having pierced his armor. He saw where it had come from, machines of wood held in the arms of men a ways off. More aimed at him and fired, some bolts missing and piercing the heads of random soldiers. Galal sprinted towards them, smashing through the rows of men before him, trampling them underfoot.

    Thick arrows continued to puncture flesh, one after the other, each closer to the center of his chest than the last. Galal plowed through the group of men, swinging his mace as he felt the crunch of their bones underneath his foot. A man¡¯s head was torn off by one swing and an amr in the next. Not enough to stem the flood of soldiers pouring in, their spears tore into his legs and sides.

    More and more cut into him, each one seeming to darken the world, the light of the sun seeming to fade with each strike. He fell to his knees, blind, cold, the weight of the mace no longer in his hands. He searched for it, reaching out with a hand only to have it stabbed into the ground and forced still. There was no pain anymore, nor the hot pressure of his wounds. No sight. No sound. Only nothingness.

    Power. A voice. Faint, shrill yet simultaneously deep, it spoke. Power for servitude, the voice said. Power for victory.

    A light appeared, distant. A world away. Flickering. Candlelight. Above it, a shrine. A wall of dried wood, old, on the verge of rotting, black tapestries on either side, unknowable golden scrawlings sewn into each. At the center a giant elongated skull with horns jutting from each side, curling around like a pig''s tail, tips pointed up.

    Serve, and power will be yours, the voice said again, louder, like a vibration from within his skin. Serve, and you will know victory. He saw something else. A battlefield littered with hundreds of dead men. Thousands. Crows and vultures littered it all, feeding from the corpses, large furless beasts having come to do the same. At the center, a Khor. No, Galal. At the center he could see himself standing, alone, alive, staring to the heavens. Dead Khor surrounded him in a circle. And his horns, his horns were ablaze in a crown of fire.

    ¡°I will serve,¡± he said. His skin vibrated again, a searing heat spreading through his veins, burning him as the battlefield disappeared in a black fog, the light of the candle growing brighter and larger with every moment. He could not scream, could not move his body, if a body still he had, and as the burning grew too hot, the candle flame too bright, nothingness overtook him.

 Lady Uthain 8

    ¡°Is it done?¡± Lady Uthain asked. The pleasantries had been put aside, tedious as they were, and so the moment of interest was at hand. Her uncle, for his part, had seemed just as interested. A moment to boast, most probably, where he could tell the tale as his own, as if he had been there. It was expected, yet his expression betrayed that expectation.

    ¡°They fell for it, as we¡¯d expected. Surrounded them and took back the fort in quick order before torching damned the thing.¡± That hadn¡¯t been the plan, as far as she recalled. They were to use the fort as a stepping stone, a place to hold supplies for regiments moving through the area, as well as a scouting base.

    ¡°And of the beast?¡± Fort or no, it worried her greatly that he hadn¡¯t mentioned it. The other reason they let the fort be taken.

    Her uncle¡¯s eyes darted around, his shoulders bracing themselves, yet he didn¡¯t speak. Lost for words, well and truly. An army of thousands against a squabble of men and animals, all surrounded by thousands more of the Uthain Kingdom¡¯s soldiers, led by hundreds of its finest knights and Artifs. Yet they failed in killing the beast, it seemed, else the body, lost amongst piles of corpses and puddles of blood and excretions, had not been subject to a thorough enough search before removing any and all evidence that they had even been there.

    ¡°A bungled job, then,¡± she said. Lord Robb did nothing to deny it, merely scratching his head as he looked away. For all his bluster, useless at the first sign of difficulty. Such was royalty. ¡°At least give me details, uncle.¡±

    He shifted in his chair, turning his gaze to the window, light almost blinding as it shone on its panes. Despite the light, she shivered. Cold? No. Something else.

    ¡°We only found corpses,¡± he said. Was that not the point? To set Darstin and the beast against one another, to come in later and clean away the refuse that remained? What was so odd about corpses, on a battlefield of all places?

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    ¡°Dartin, they didn¡¯t have any survivors. Two thousand men against less than a hundred. I don¡¯t care that the beast was a giant, it shouldn¡¯t have been possible. One second they heard the sounds of fighting, in the next, nothing. Silence. And the corpses¡­ if the report is true, the corpses were rotted. Wood and plants, too, and all the steel had rusted over.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°Liard wouldn¡¯t lie to me, he doesn¡¯t have the gall. And the Domicus serving with him corroborate his report. All of them.¡±

    Lord Robb leaned back in his chair, head lolling back, eyes closed. Lady Uthain, speechless, watched on, uncertain of how to feel. Surely it was some jest? She hoped, though she knew it was not.

    ¡°What of¡­¡± she started, the words caught in her throat, choking her as she swallowed them. Her uncle¡¯s eyes barely twitched at the words, though his mouth moved nonetheless.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t find the beasts corpse. They found the other four, but with his size¡­ well, that is the state of things, I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°Do you think it will come for revenge?¡± That was always how it went in the tales. Betray a spirit and it will plot your downfall, bring about your humiliation and, in some tales, your death. A tale to scare children into behaving, yet apt to their own situation.

    ¡°Might. Might not. Matters not, we¡¯ll increase our guard, regardless,¡± he replied. ¡°So, any ideas of what to do with the rest? Seems killing them may not be in our best interest.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m uncertain. Leave them be, for now. Continue with our agreement, tell them their leader died in battle. We¡¯ll watch how they react.¡±

    Robb¡¯s chest expanded as he breathed, silent, tossing an arm over his eyes as he laid back further in his chair. Lady Uthain shivered again as she imagined the corpses, flesh rotted black and almost turned to liquid, maggots crawling from empty eye sockets, bone showing through. The fort, on fire, releasing a choking black smoke that she could almost feel in her own lungs. The imagery, so vivid in her mind she could not help but to feel an itch in her throat.

    Then the burning. Like hot coals, her lungs burned as she coughed, black smoke spewing forth with each one. She collapsed at the pain, scratching at her throat and lungs, eyes flooded with tears and smoke, her uncle yelling, a disembodied voice calling for help, a stray hand gripping her shoulder as the fire in her lungs grew. She saw only the stacks of smoke rising from the fallen fort, and at its center a beast, half-man half-goat and as large as a peasant¡¯s home, horns alight with flames like a golden crown, embers escaping its snout with each breath. A final image before nothingness overtook her.

 Galal 12 - Snow

    Snow. A thousand white flecks fell from the heavens, and a thousand more followed. They piled upon his fur, sticking to his body like glue as they compacted together. Each one, a fragile existence. Combined, they covered nature and animal alike, smothering them both in white cold. Cold that seeped life from everything it could. He¡¯d be next, if the icicles hanging from his fur meant anything.

    Galal stomped up the snow-laden hill, each step sinking into the snow until his hooves were completely hidden. Frozen wind buffeted him, pushing him back, muscles freezing still as he fought against it. He stumbled forward, the snow piles on his shoulders breaking away only for them to be replaced by the onslaught of snowfall.

    The top of the hill greeted him soon enough, revealing beyond it an empty white wasteland. At either side stood the shear cliffs of two mountains, together forming a pass between them wide enough to hold a city. Between them, so far off as to seem another life, a tower stood, a beam of green light emanating from it. The light rose further than he could make out, as if splitting the world in twain.

    <hr>

    Black stone made up the walls of the tower. More a shell, in truth, a carapace for the light. Standing before the entrance he felt a chill grip him from the inside. Like fingers. It danced through him, wriggling from place to place, rising through him from his stomach. It stopped, curled around his heart for but a second, then continued its dance upward to his ear.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    The horde.

    Insignificant. That¡¯s what he felt, staring at the tower¡¯s top, at the light rising across the sky. For so long he had dwelt with humans and the Khor, small and brittle as they were. Only now did he feel small.

    Lead.

    War. Blood. Death. Battle. Survival. All experiences he had faced. Easy by comparison. Each bled into the others, joined together as if part of the same being. A conjoined monstrosity of conflict.

    Lead your horde.

    ¡°I will.¡± It startled him, the sound of his voice. Hoarse, strained, the sound scratching at his ears. His appearance was worse.

    The green beam of light changed, becoming a literal mirror to the world, reflecting his image within. His height had been unchanged, but it seemed the only thing. Skin clung to bone, the muscles atrophied so far he wondered how he was alive. If he was alive. His torso was filled with holes and tears, revealing shadowed patches within, the skin loosely hanging from visible ribs. His stomach, non-existent, only spine and torn flesh in its place.

    Bring victory to the horde.

    Brightness greeted him, white light filling his vision before receding, revealing a pillar of red at the tower¡¯s center. He looked to the tower¡¯s entranceway. It was coming. He could feel it. He could feel the horde. He could feel his horde. An ocean of them lying beyond the light. And they had begun to pass over. They had come.

 Galal 13 - The Horde

    They crossed, pouring from the beam of light, a flood of the decayed. Shredded limbs and sliced torsos, black blood dripping from every wound. They were as he was. Dead, but alive. Bodies twisted in ways previously unimaginable to him, the horde was neither man nor beast. Monsters. It was the only word that came to mind.

    They followed as he walked, forming a line that streamed endlessly from the portal. Hundreds, thousands, more. He walked and walked, climbing the hill he had descended only a short while ago, stopping only to wait for the rest to arrive in this world.

    The creatures - their forms chaotic, bent, wrong - filtered out from the great light, filling the field below with a mass of bodies. Ten thousand, a hundred thousand, more. Uncountable. More poured out from above, winged monsters that soared across the sky, blotting it out in a colony of feathered darkness.

    Galal roared, rib cage rumbling, and the horde roared back. A symphony that deafened out the world. Many as one.

    Eyes closed, he could feel the vibrations on his skin, the shake of the earth beneath his feet. He could feel the horde, as if each individual member was an extension of his body, each an extra limb to lash out with. He inhaled, taking in the chilled air. He couldn¡¯t feel the cold, nor the pain of his torn flesh. Was he alive? Surely. But not as an individual.

    <hr>

    Snow turned to dirt and mud as the horde trod on, the landscape shifting from snow to small croppings of vegetation and barren rock. Night came and left, the days passing one by one. Tireless, Galal never rested, moving onward, always. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    Plains gave way to forest. Wildlife was nowhere to be seen, creatures of the woods avoiding the chaotic flood that flowed through their home. Plantlife was crushed under foot, with only trees left standing. Soon enough, they dwindled, becoming flat fields once again. Lorwood, they¡¯d called it. A home for his Khor at one time, not so long ago. Yet another lifetime altogether. Standing, the buildings remained, its populace gone. Abandoned or slaughtered, he didn¡¯t know the truth of it. It didn¡¯t matter now.

    Flying, crawling, walking, the horde moved south. They passed village after village, each abandoned. Empty of life. The horde moved on again, further south. To Sansbrook. To the colosseum.

    Even from a distance he could recognize it. Stacks of smoke rose, a black smog pooling in the sky. War. The city had fallen before their arrival, alight with a raging fire that spread its width and length, all encompassing. A hellscape of what it once was, its walls collapsed, buildings crumbled, its people hanged from every tree around.

    ¡°West.¡± He turned, the rumble of his marching horde soon following.

    <hr>

    A day and night passed before they met the Darstin army, their banners held high, spears point toward the horde, shields raised. Near the center were odd structures on wheels. The tallest ones moved, their beams lifting up and, with them, launching rocks towards Galal and his army. The rocks crashed into his soldiers, sending up dirt and grey viscera.

    His flying monsters were the first to act, swooping down upon the army of men, the first crashing into one of the tall war machines, the next toppling another over. The smaller ones swarmed the human soldiers, clawing at them and dragging some into the sky, releasing and dropping them back onto their fellows.

    Then the horde charged.

 General Tivus: Death Comes

    ¡°Trebuchets!¡± Wood creaked as stones were flung toward¡­ them. Eighteen years as a general, thirty more as all the ranks below, totalling forty-eight years of service for the country of Darstin. Three wars, seventeen victories as a general, countless more before that. Just a week ago Sansbrook burned, its citizens hanged, its soldiers slaughtered, its leaders tossed on the fire or kept prisoner. He had feared all throughout his career, though so few had he felt immediately in peril.

    First when he was nearly killed in battle, buried beneath so many bodies as to become immobile, blood and shit leaking down upon him, blinding his eyes, filling his mouth and nostrils. Only when he screamed for help after the battle had died down had he been rescued, and luckily enough by the victorious Darstin troops.

    Second was when his battalion was flanked, the men around him falling to a hail of arrows and spears. An arrow had pierced the back of his head, just to the side of his spine, its tip poking through his cheek. He had ridden his horse as fast as he could, spitting blood from his mouth as he went, sticking close to the handful of soldiers who¡¯d escaped by his side until they reached a Darstin fort and gave word of the attack.

    This marked the third. Monsters of grey and brown, twisted, oddly shaped, the makings of a mad sculptor. Dog-like creatures with the heads of three men. Elephant sized creatures with gigantic, teeth-filled maws. Flying beasts covered in human ears and tooth-like spikes. And at their head, a half-man half-goat with shredded flesh, taller than all else and stood at the center, its limbs so gaunt as to be nothing but bones, its eyes glowing red, as if the beast had some perverted form of a Seers power.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    Unmoving, the mass of monsters waited as their flighted brethren descended upon the Darstin troops. One crashed into a trebuchet, crushing it under its immense size and sending out a blast of splinters. Another grabbed a trebuchet with its talons, dragging it along and tipping it over completely. But he didn¡¯t have time for them.

    A thousand more fell upon them, scratching at them with class as sharp as iron, dragging men into the sky and tearing them apart. ¡°Retreat!¡± A spray of blood dowsed  the men around him, a man above having been split in two. They all turned, pushing back as they tried to escape. Some tuned back, looking at the top of the hill where the horde of monsters lay, only to push harder. The horde was coming.

    General Tivus, a general of forty-eight years and hardened by the cruelties of war, shivered as he heard the screams start. The horde of monstrosities blended his men to pieces, limbs and blood flung into the air, others swallowed whole, never to be seen again. He urged his horse forward, away from the enclosing wall of death. A sharp pain greeted his shoulders, his body pulled from his horse and lifted skyward. He looked up at the beast as it carried him, and shuddered. A tall pillar of flesh and hair with wings carried him, flying him back, away from his men and toward the grey mass of death. He screamed, grabbing the beasts talons, holding on with all his strength as it released him.

    He kicked his legs in a vain attempt to grab purchase with his legs, his hands, covered in wet blood, slipping from the beasts foot. At last he slipped too far, slicing his hand on the monsters talon as he fell, body thudding against dirt, mind thrown to unconsciousness. A small comfort, to remain ignorant of death and pain as he was ripped apart.

 Casser 7

    Paper after paper made its way to his desk. The castle air was chilled, as always, a crisp touch against the skin as he focused on his work. A hollowness had come to call his stomach home these past few weeks. Food, when he ate it, did nothing to fill it, nor did water or beer or wine. He could see the results in his hands ¨C thin from malnourishment ¨C and cursed the timing of his birth.

    He scribbled word after word on the parchment, all together totalling his message of surrender, and by extension, the Uthain Kingdom¡¯s surrender. If you could call it a kingdom any longer. Finished, blank paper replaced the parchment of surrender and more black words were written ¨C the first of many pleas to the surrounding countries.

    One, then the next, then another, he wrote them until his candles had burned low and the light of dawn filled the room. A knock came from the door as it opened, revealing Alrin Uthain. Casser stood and took a knee, putting a fist to his chest, uttering ¡°My king¡± as the man entered.

    ¡°Stand. I am no longer king of anything,¡± he said. ¡°What has happened to you, Casser? When last have you slept?¡±

    Casser stood, his legs shaking from the effort. ¡°What man can sleep after what I¡¯ve seen? I¡¯m not sure whether to envy or pity the man.¡±

    ¡°All of mankind has gained my pity as of late. May the gods have mercy,¡± Alrin said.

    ¡°May the gods have mercy,¡± Casser said.

    Alrin moved to the desk, looking over the papers Casser had written. ¡°You need rest, Casser. Your writing has worsened.¡±

    ¡°Shall I redo them?¡± He asked. He looked over the papers again himself. Alrin was right. His words were less legible than an official document mandated, even misspelled at times. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s well enough. The seal will do the talking, the words are a formality.¡± Alrin turned back to him, looking over his face. ¡°You¡¯ve really declined. Forgive me for the rudeness, but I have to say it. It scares me, you know, to see a man half my age, a Domicus no less, looking as ragged as you.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve all declined, my king.¡±

    ¡°Hrmph. King. Indeed, what you say is true,¡± Alrin said. He walked about the room, looking at the furniture or out the window, shifting from one thing to the next every few seconds.

    ¡°Is there anything I can help you with, Alrin?¡± Casser asked. The former king turned to him. Without a crown or royal wear, he looked no different than any man.

    ¡°Not you, I¡¯m afraid. Nor anyone for that matter. No, I¡¯m just looking about. Reminiscing, if you¡¯ll allow me,¡± Alrin said.

    ¡°By all means. This is still your home, after all, king or no.¡±

    Alrin turned his mouth up into a smile, but there was no happiness in it. He was dead behind the eyes. He continued his activity of walking about the room, pausing for a moment, then continuing on.

    ¡°Have you visited her recently?¡± Casser asked. It wasn¡¯t his place, he felt, but there were few others left to care. He was the last Uthain to remain in the kingdom. The rest had hid away in Mythel.

    ¡°No. I can¡¯t keep staring at a grave.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure Lady Uthain would have appreciated it,¡± he said.

    ¡°She would have appreciated a different country¡¯s customs. Nameless, titleless, landless. I treated her like a decoration,¡± Alrin said.

    Casser didn¡¯t reply to the man¡¯s words. What was there to say? The man had mourned for a year and a half, allowed his kingdom to fall into shambles as Darstin invaded, then again as it came back.

    Alrin made for the door, pausing but a moment. ¡°Send the letters when you¡¯ve got the chance,¡± he said, then left the room.