《Standing Among The Gods》


 Prelude

    Chapter 1: Chained


    Deep within Teth-Anclad, iron chains rattled. Not unlike an imprisoned god did Alaric hang, hoisted up by countless chains strung about the ceiling. Each pained movement caused the entire prison to reverberate with shrill iron. Below stood a figure all to familiar to Alaric. His father, The Emperor.


    ¡°It¡¯s shameful that a bastard should carry royal blood. Though, at least you¡¯re still of use.¡± The Emperor approached Alaric with nonchalance and drew a thin dagger from his waist.


    ¡°Funny my father should call me a bastard.¡± Alaric replied venomously, blood-tinged spittle running down his unkempt beard and scarred chest. The Emperor ignored the jeering Alaric, and taking blade, traced it along Alaric¡¯s scars.


    ¡°You should be proud to serve the royal family.¡± Without warning and like many times before, The Emperor carved open Alaric¡¯s chest, letting the blood spill into an empty bucket below. Alaric stifled his screams, which seemed to agitate the Emperor who dug the blade deeper, twisting the knife as he did so. Alaric let out a pained groan, his voice was too broken for anything more. The Emperor breathed a sigh of satisfaction and met Alaric¡¯s eyes. ¡°My blood may run through your veins, but know you will never be my son.¡± Alaric chuckled as if that hadn¡¯t been made clear in the years he¡¯d been imprisoned.


    ¡°One day I¡¯ll strangle you with these chains.¡± The Emperor couldn¡¯t help laugh at Alaric¡¯s boldness as he retrieved the bucket.


    ¡°Quite arrogant for mere cattle.¡± As the Emperor spoke, a massive steel door opened behind him. Alaric stared at the hulking door as it grated against the cold tile floor, only able to be opened by ten men who worked the equally daunting pulley system beside it. The Emperor turned to leave, tailed by his Royal Guard, draped in ornate cloth, and equally beautiful silver armor. Alaric muttered a curse under his breath, thinking no one would listen, but he was surprised to hear a chuckle in response. He looked down as a scrawny priest with a long white beard and wired spectacles began to dress his wounds.


    ¡°To whisper such things within earshot of the Royal Guard. Good to see you¡¯ve yet to lose your spirit.¡± The priest smiled, but unlike the Emperor there was not a hint of malice to his words.


    ¡°Hah, as if they¡¯d hear.¡± Alaric muttered. The priest sighed, placing both his hands on Alaric¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Your wounds are worse than usual.¡± With that, the priest kneeled and began to mutter under his breath, his palms glowing golden with holy magic. Slowly, the torn flesh began to contort back into it¡¯s original position, tendons reconnecting until Alaric was only left with more scarring. ¡°Your mana core is weak after losing so much blood. You would do well to get some rest.¡± The priest glanced up at the chains suspending Alaric. ¡°As well as you can, anyway.¡± He added apologetically.


    ¡°Thanks Donnell, but I feel fine.¡± The priest, Donnell scoffed at Alaric.


    ¡°I know the extent of my abilities. No need to lie.¡± Donnell lifted himself up with a groan and dusted off his white robes. ¡°Tomorrow, then?¡± Alaric nodded, and the priest turned to leave as well. The metal door screeched open once again, and behind the hulking steel, rows of Church soldiers bowed their heads for the priest as he passed through. When the door closed, Alaric was left with a stifling silence and the rattling of chains.


    Hours seemed to pass, but in the darkness there was no way of truly knowing. And so, Alaric began to sleep, awaiting tomorrow¡¯s torture session. As he closed his eyes, the darkness became more suffocating, ominous even. Suddenly he heard a quiet laugh in the distance. Alaric¡¯s eyes shot open. He peered around, the prison becoming more clear as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. When he heard nothing he sighed to himself. It wasn¡¯t the first time he hallucinated. Being alone and starving, Alaric often heard and saw things in the dark that weren¡¯t there.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    However, when he heard the laugh again, this time more clear, his senses sharpened and he became suspicious.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he asked with all the strength he could muster. In response a golden light began to fill the room.


    ¡°Lost lamb¡±, the voice beckoned him, soothing and deep like a church bell. ¡°Fret not, for in your hour of need I have come to be your salvation.¡± Alaric, tempted to give in, still managed to hold an air of suspicion. It was the skepticism earned through years of imprisonment and torture. He could not so easily be given hope.


    ¡°What do you want? Who are you?¡± The light grew brighter, and a hand resembling that of a fair maiden reached out and grasped his face gently. the figure was draped in light, it¡¯s face and body obscured by the brightness.


    ¡°I am Pity. I am salvation for those who are forsaken¡­Or what you mortals refer to as a god.¡± Alaric¡¯s brow furrowed. A god? Through Donnell Alaric heard tale of mortal champions who enter contracts with divine beings to harness their powers in battle, but still the idea was still absurd.


    ¡°You¡¯ve yet to speak your purpose.¡± The god gently ran it¡¯s hand through Alaric¡¯s hair before replying.


    ¡°I want to make you my champion. Become a symbol for the common people.¡± Alaric¡¯s heart raced, he could feel it drumming in his ears.


    ¡°And in return?¡± There must be some catch, Alaric thought.


    ¡°All I ask is in return is that ¡°you kill your father, the Emperor. For he seeks the power to undo us. The power to kill a god.¡± Alaric¡¯s eyes widened. The power to kill a god? Was such a thing even possible? Suddenly a putrid stench filled Alaric¡¯s nostrils, and he felt the urge to wretch. Something about this god felt strange. Almost too good to be true. He would be a fool to turn down this offer but a feeling deep inside urged him not to accept.


    ¡°I refuse. Find some other pawn.¡± The god flinched, jerking it¡¯s hand away.


    ¡°But-¡± The god began to protest, but Alaric spat at the lightshrouded figure.


    ¡°Even if you are a god as you say, I seek freedom. I will not be chained to your demands.¡± Suddenly the rancid stench grew stronger. It was the unmistakable scent of rot.


    ¡°Why you arrogant fool.¡± The god¡¯s voice turned gravelly as deep. A dark ichor began to bubble from the floor, the golden light being replaced with a repulsive, thick sludge shrouded in miasma. ¡°If you will not accept my benevolence¡­¡± The ichor grew with each second, forming into something more humanoid. Fear grew within Alaric as he struggled against his bindings. He tried to call for help, but between the thick metal door and his hoarse voice, nobody could hear him. ¡°Then be devoured.¡±


    The ichor consumed Alaric, who struggled to breath as it filled his lungs and singed his flesh. He could feel the ichor running through his veins, pulsating throughout his body, but he found he could no longer move of his own volition and he felt his mind begin to fade. ¡°You could have perished much less excruciatingly if only you-¡± The god fell silent for a moment, and Alaric felt his conscious flood back. His fingers twitched as be began to regain control. ¡°Why can¡¯t I-?¡± The god let out a deafening screech that only Alaric could hear. ¡°What is happening? What have you done?¡±


    Alaric, just as confused as the god began to struggle intensely, and the two grappled for control when without warning the ichor which contaminated Alaric, seeped out from his body, attempting to escape. It landed on the dungeon floor below, in a pool of Alaric¡¯s coagulated blood. Immediately the formless sludge began to sizzle, and the god screamed in agony once more.


    ¡°What is this? Why does it-why does it HURT?¡± Slowly the sludge began to dissipate into a thin, visible essence, the echoing cries of the god began to wane, as the sludge evaporated completely. Alaric contorted in pain as the essence siphoned itself into Alaric¡¯s mana core. It was an unbearable searing heat that reverberated throughout his entire being. Alaric, unable to endure the pain any longer finally passed out from exhaustion.

 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1: Chained


    Deep within Teth-Anclad, iron chains rattled. Not unlike an imprisoned god did Alaric hang, hoisted up by countless chains strung about the ceiling. Each pained movement caused the entire prison to reverberate with shrill iron. Below stood a figure all to familiar to Alaric. His father, The Emperor.


    ¡°It¡¯s shameful that a bastard should carry royal blood. Though, at least you¡¯re still of use.¡± The Emperor approached Alaric with nonchalance and drew a thin dagger from his waist.


    ¡°Funny my father should call me a bastard.¡± Alaric replied venomously, blood-tinged spittle running down his unkempt beard and scarred chest. The Emperor ignored the jeering Alaric, and taking blade,  traced it along Alaric¡¯s scars.


    ¡°You should be proud to serve the royal family.¡± Without warning and like many times before, The Emperor carved open Alaric¡¯s chest, letting the blood spill into an empty bucket below. Alaric stifled his screams, which seemed to agitate the Emperor who dug the blade deeper, twisting the knife as he did so. Alaric let out a pained groan, his voice was too broken for anything more. The Emperor breathed a sigh of satisfaction and met Alaric¡¯s eyes. ¡°My blood may run through your veins, but know you will never be my son.¡± Alaric chuckled as if that hadn¡¯t been made clear in the years he¡¯d been imprisoned.


    ¡°One day I¡¯ll strangle you with these chains.¡± The Emperor couldn¡¯t help laugh at Alaric¡¯s boldness as he retrieved the bucket.


    ¡°Quite arrogant for mere cattle.¡± As the Emperor spoke, a massive steel door opened behind him. Alaric stared at the hulking door as it grated against the cold tile floor, only able to be opened by ten men who worked the equally daunting pulley system beside it. The Emperor turned to leave, tailed by his Royal Guard, draped in ornate cloth, and equally beautiful silver armor. Alaric muttered a curse under his breath, thinking no one would listen, but he was surprised to hear a chuckle in response. He looked down as a scrawny priest with a long white beard and wired spectacles began to dress his wounds.


    ¡°To whisper such things within earshot of the Royal Guard. Good to see you¡¯ve yet to lose your spirit.¡± The priest smiled, but unlike the Emperor there was not a hint of malice to his words.


    ¡°Hah, as if they¡¯d hear.¡± Alaric muttered. The priest sighed, placing both his hands on Alaric¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Your wounds are worse than usual.¡± With that, the priest kneeled and began to mutter under his breath, his palms glowing golden with holy magic. Slowly, the torn flesh began to contort back into it¡¯s original position, tendons reconnecting until Alaric was only left with more scarring. ¡°Your mana core is weak after losing so much blood. You would do well to get some rest.¡± The priest glanced up at the chains suspending Alaric. ¡°As well as you can, anyway.¡± He added apologetically.


    ¡°Thanks Donnell, but I feel fine.¡± The priest, Donnell scoffed at Alaric.


    ¡°I know the extent of my abilities. No need to lie.¡± Donnell lifted himself up with a groan and dusted off his white robes. ¡°Tomorrow, then?¡± Alaric nodded, and the priest turned to leave as well. The metal door screeched open once again, and behind the hulking steel, rows of Church soldiers bowed their heads for the priest as he passed through. When the door closed, Alaric was left with a stifling silence and the rattling of chains.


    Hours seemed to pass, but in the darkness there was no way of truly knowing.  And so, Alaric began to sleep, awaiting tomorrow¡¯s torture session. As he closed his eyes, the darkness became more suffocating, ominous even. Suddenly he heard a quiet laugh in the distance. Alaric¡¯s eyes shot open. He peered around, the prison becoming more clear as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. When he heard nothing he sighed to himself. It wasn¡¯t the first time he hallucinated. Being alone and starving, Alaric often heard and saw things in the dark that weren¡¯t there. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    However, when he heard the laugh again, this time more clear, his senses sharpened and he became suspicious.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he asked with all the strength he could muster. In response a golden light began to fill the room.


    ¡°Lost lamb¡±, the voice beckoned him, soothing and deep like a church bell. ¡°Fret not, for in your hour of need I have come to be your salvation.¡± Alaric, tempted to give in, still managed to hold an air of suspicion. It was the skepticism earned through years of imprisonment and torture. He could not so easily be given hope.


    ¡°What do you want? Who are you?¡± The light grew brighter, and a hand resembling that of a fair maiden reached out and grasped his face gently. the figure was draped in light, it¡¯s face and body obscured by the brightness.


    ¡°I am Pity. I am salvation for those who are forsaken¡­Or what you mortals refer to as a god.¡± Alaric¡¯s brow furrowed. A god? Through Donnell Alaric heard tale of mortal champions who enter contracts with divine beings to harness their powers in battle, but still the idea was still absurd.


    ¡°You¡¯ve yet to speak your purpose.¡± The god gently ran it¡¯s hand through Alaric¡¯s hair before replying.


    ¡°I want to make you my champion. Become a symbol for the common people.¡± Alaric¡¯s heart raced, he could feel it drumming in his ears.


    ¡°And in return?¡±  There must be some catch, Alaric thought.


    ¡°All I ask is in return is that ¡°you kill your father, the Emperor. For he seeks the power to undo us. The power to kill a god.¡± Alaric¡¯s eyes widened. The power to kill a god? Was such a thing even possible? Suddenly a putrid stench filled Alaric¡¯s nostrils, and he felt the urge to wretch. Something about this god felt strange. Almost too good to be true. He would be a fool to turn down this offer but a feeling deep inside urged him not to accept.


    ¡°I refuse. Find some other pawn.¡± The god flinched, jerking it¡¯s hand away.


    ¡°But-¡± The god began to protest, but Alaric spat at the lightshrouded figure.


    ¡°Even if you are a god as you say, I seek freedom. I will not be chained to your demands.¡± Suddenly the rancid stench grew stronger. It was the unmistakable scent of rot.


    ¡°Why you arrogant fool.¡± The god¡¯s voice turned gravelly as deep. A dark ichor began to bubble from the floor, the golden light being replaced with a repulsive, thick sludge shrouded in miasma. ¡°If you will not accept my benevolence¡­¡± The ichor grew with each second, forming into something more humanoid. Fear grew within Alaric as he struggled against his bindings. He tried to call for help, but between the thick metal door and his hoarse voice, nobody could hear him. ¡°Then be devoured.¡±


    The ichor consumed Alaric, who struggled to breath as it filled his lungs and singed his flesh. He could feel the ichor running through his veins, pulsating throughout his body, but he found he could no longer move of his own volition and he felt his mind begin to fade. ¡°You could have perished much less excruciatingly if only you-¡± The god fell silent for a moment, and Alaric felt his conscious flood back. His fingers twitched as be began to regain control. ¡°Why can¡¯t I-?¡± The god let out a deafening screech that only Alaric could hear. ¡°What is happening? What have you done?¡±


    Alaric, just as confused as the god began to struggle intensely, and the two grappled for control when without warning the ichor which contaminated Alaric, seeped out from his body, attempting to escape. It landed on the dungeon floor below, in a pool of Alaric¡¯s coagulated blood. Immediately the formless sludge began to sizzle, and the god screamed in agony once more.


    ¡°What is this? Why does it-why does it HURT?¡± Slowly the sludge began to dissipate into a thin, visible essence, the echoing cries of the god began to wane, as the sludge evaporated completely. Alaric contorted in pain as the essence siphoned itself into Alaric¡¯s mana core. It was an unbearable searing heat that reverberated throughout his entire being. Alaric, unable to endure the pain any longer finally passed out from exhaustion.

 Chapter 2

    Alaric awoke the next day, the agonizing pain had mostly disappeared, leaving Alaric with a dull ache, though it was hard to differentiate from the usual soreness. He gathered himself, thoughts racing through his head about the day before. Had it even happened? All traces of the god had vanished, leaving Alaric mystified¨C that is until a voice spoke within is head.


    ¡°Awake are we?¡± Alaric looked around in shock for the source of the disembodied voice. The disgruntled voice continued. ¡°Release me from this prison of flesh, brat.¡± Realizing the situation in part, Alaric replied tauntingly.


    ¡°Or what?¡± Anger rose within Alaric, but he could feel it was not his own. He could sense the god¡¯s anger within him.


    ¡°Oh so now the little shite¡¯s grown a pair, eh?¡± Surprised at the crude language, Alaric continued to tease the powerless god.


    ¡°You¡¯re no longer so sanctimonious. Give up on the act already.¡± The god spoke again, with a note of desperation in it¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Is it power you want? No strings attached? I can grant any wish your puny mortal mind can conceive, just let me out.¡± The pitiful state of the ¡®god¡¯ agitated Alaric more than anything.


    ¡°How can I trust you. Besides, even if I wanted to release you, I don¡¯t know a damn thing about why you¡¯re trapped in my mana core.¡± The god pondered a bit before replying.


    ¡°At the very least we should leave this shithole.¡± Alaric looked up at the chains holding him in place.


    ¡°Yeah, a fine idea.¡± Their conversation ws interrupted by grinding steel, as the doors opened like clockwork. The Emperor strode in, Royal Guards trailing behind him. The Emperor¡¯s scowl was especially deep. Alaric knew immediately that he was in a particularly foul mood.


    ¡°Three talentless sons and a bastard. Is that all my bloodline can muster?¡± Lamenting the fact that he was unconscious for the entire day, Alaric¡¯s head hung. Dismayed at the lack of energy, the Emperor scoffed. To him, Alaric¡¯s torture was a respite from the duties of a king. Alaric had never experienced the calm, demanding aura that the Emperor emitted, because in front of Alaric was not a king but simply a crazed dog frothing at the mouth. The Emperor drew his blade, fingers twitching in anticipation, clearly somewhat addled. From within Alaric¡¯s mind the imprisoned god chimed in.


    ¡°Your father seems on edge.¡± Alaric pursed his lips, not daring to reply to the being out loud. ¡°Just reply in thought, I can hear you¡±. Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed, and he responded telepathically.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been reading my thoughts, then?¡± He questioned. Alaric could feel the god laugh in reply. The god fell silent for a moment before speaking.


    ¡°You could escape if you wanted to¡­¡± Alaric ignored the god with wary silence. ¡°We both get what we want. Don¡¯t forget I¡¯m stuck here now too.¡± The last line in particular made Alaric think. It was true the god could have no ulterior motive, and he only wished to escape like Alaric. But as Alaric thought of yesterday, having to wrestle for control of his own body he shut out the thought. He could feel a brief tinge of arrogance and agitation from the god. ¡°Of course¡­It¡¯s your choice to hang here and rot - but I can¡¯t say I understand.¡± With their conversation coming to a close, Alaric turned his attention fully to the Emperor who had approached Alaric, taking note of the royal guard setting the bucket down below. Alaric tensed, fearing what would come next, when the god¡¯s dark miasma began gathering around Alaric. In a panicked tone Alaric barked at the god.


    ¡°I told you no! What the hell are you doing?¡± The emperor looked at Alaric, brow furrowed, wondering who Alaric was speaking to.


    ¡°Finally lost it, fool? A pity.¡± Apparently the Emperor could not see the miasma gathering, and he showed no reaction.


    ¡°My power may have waned, being trapped in your mana core¡­but I am still an Elder God.¡± The miasma thickened and some of the royal guards behind the Emperor began to cough uncontrollably. A couple even dropped to their knees. Alaric stared mouth agape, The Royal Guard was not for decoration. Each one was an elite warrior sought after personally. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    The Emperor finally turned to see his guard crippled with the mysterious illness, though he soon began to cough uncontrollably. The Emperor looked down, his aged hands becoming even more withered, bone and sinew beginning to shape them.


    ¡°What have you done?¡± The Emperor muttered in pained breaths as he fell to his knees, but he was was enveloped in golden light. While the royal guard behind had been turned to dust, the Emperor stood tall,]. The damage had reverted until he looked full of vigor, even younger than before. In a commanding voice he shouted, ¡°Where have you acquired the power of a god?¡± As Alaric beheld the Emperor, who now resisted the miasma with ease, the god within Alaric took the chance to offer new terms.


    ¡°The Emperor is only blessed by a Minor God. Normally I could dispose of this lowborn shite with ease, but¡­¡± Alaric sighed, finally giving in. The god felt Alaric¡¯s acceptance and laughed. With the god¡¯s powers unleashed, Alaric felt his body being shrouded in the familiar miasma, now dense as smoke. The chains hoisting up Alaric snapped, the corrosive energy had all but destroyed them. Alaric fell to the ground, too weak to stand. In response the energy around Alaric supported him, allowing Alaric to face the Emperor on even terms. Without speaking, the Emperor pointed towards Alaric and two beams of light shot from his hands. One of the beams missed, hitting the back wall of the prison, causing the entire palace to shake briefly. The other immediately dissipated within the miasma. The Emperor clicked his tongue, and took a step back.


    ¡°Whatever god bestowed it¡¯s boon on you is powerful I will admit. Perhaps I was wrong in my assessment of you.¡± Alaric strode towards the Emperor, ignoring his silver tongue. He leaned down to pick up a fallen chain before leaping on the Emperor, who fell back without much resistance. Each attempt at a counterattack from the Emperor disappeared in the dark miasma, even as the Emperor shot beam after beam of light. Alaric straddled the Emperor and wrapped the fallen chain around his neck. The Emperor struggled vigorously, shooting wildly in all directions, but as Alaric jerked the chains harder, the light that shrouded the Emperor began to dim. The emperor reached toward the light and pleaded in choked gasps.


    ¡°Why do you abandon me? You said I was destined¡­¡± with a final breath the Emperor spoke his final words. ¡°...For greatness.¡± Alaric leaned back and took a deep breath . A myriad of thoughts ran through Alaric¡¯s head, but among them one word echoed in his head. Freedom. He attempted to stand, but his legs buckled from the years of disuse. He heaved himself from off his father¡¯s corpse and began to pull himself towards the door. As Alaric moved deliberately towards the door, contemplating how he¡¯d get it open, the familiar grinding of chains and gears began to churn. From behind the door a grim looking Donnell emerged smiling, trailed by more priests. There was a foreign glint in Donnell¡¯s eyes as he approached.


    ¡°That priest. Who is he?¡± The god within Alaric suddenly spoke. Before Alaric could reply Donnell spoke in a booming voice that was not his own.


    ¡°If it isn¡¯t the black sheep of gods¡± The voice speaking through Donnell oozed with arrogance. ¡°To think even an Elder God could fall victim to the sweet allure of someone pure of blood.¡± Donnell smiled wider. ¡°Avarice, how have you been.¡± Alaric could feel intense disdain boiling from within himself.


    ¡°Donnell, you knew-¡± Donnell handwaved Alaric.


    ¡°I want to speak with Avarice, mortal. Let him talk.¡± Alaric¡¯s brow creased in confusion.


    ¡°Let me use your body for a second. If there¡¯s ever a time I plead with you mortal, let me speak to him or else we¡¯ll both die.¡± Alaric listened the god Avarice¡¯s pleas and nodded, letting him take over Alaric¡¯s body momentarily. Suddenly Alaric heard his voice, but it was the god speaking this time.


    ¡°So this was your trap, Pride? How dare you trap me in this mortal soul. Release me at once or I will tell him.¡± Alaric could see Donnell¡¯s smile falter for a second before he regained his composure, ignoring Avarice¡¯s threat.


    ¡°Tell him what? That you¡¯re trapped in a mortal soul, bowing to the whims of a bastard? How far you have fallen, Avarice¡­Oh, and before I forget.¡± Donnell waved a finger, and a burst of light emitted from his palm and imbedded itself in Alaric¡¯s mana core. Avarice fell silent and Donnell turned his attention to Alaric. ¡°With the emperor dead I no longer have need for you.¡± Donnell pointed a finger at Alaric threateningly, but then sighed. ¡°But I am a god of my word, I swore to Donnell I would spare you from death. Goodbye.¡± The strange light in Donnell¡¯s eye seemed to leave, and an air of familiarity washed over him. For the first time it was Donnell who spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Alaric. Know that things weren¡¯t meant to end up this way.¡± Alaric stared at Donnell, feeling betrayed. Had Donnell truly set up Alaric to kill his father? The whole situation felt farfetched, though the presence of gods served as proof. As Alaric struggled to come to terms, Donnell continued to speak. ¡°What happens next, I will do my best to explain. You will be branded nameless and sent to serve in the frontlines of the Imperial Army. ¡®Alaric¡¯ is now dead, executed for the assassination of Emperor Orneros II. I wish there was more I could do for you, Alaric, truly I do.¡± Alaric refused to reply. For him, he was out of one set of shackles just to immediately be burdened with another. What Alaric found strangest of all, however, was that Avarice was still silent.


    ¡°What happened to whatever, whoever¡¯s inside my mana core.¡± Donnell adjusted his spectacles and stroked his beard. ¡°To my knowledge Avarice has been sealed. It¡¯s quite difficult to kill an Elder God, even for Pride.¡± flicked his wrist, healing Alaric¡¯s legs and allowing him to stand. ¡°This is goodbye, Alaric.¡±

 Chapter 3

    ¡°Hey. HEY¡±. Alaric woke up, hitting his head on the roof of the prison wagon. He looked around for the source of the commotion, turning to see an old, disheveled man across from him, staring blankly. ¡°You gon¡¯ eat that?¡± The old man pointed at the bowl of gruel at Alaric¡¯s feet.


    ¡°All yours.¡± Alaric gave a small wave signaling for the old man to do as he pleased. The old man immediately picked up the bowl, discarded the wooden spoon provided, and began scooping out of the bowl with his mud-covered fingers. Alaric frowned. His first time outside of the castle since birth and it was here surrounded by even more filth then he was used to. He gave a weak smile to the old man, who was already finished. After sucking on each of his fingers, the old man began to speak again.


    ¡°I¡¯d eat now, lad. They don¡¯t serve meals like these where we¡¯re going.¡± The old man brushed up some hair covering his neck, revealing a tattoo scorched into his flesh. ¡°Down there nameless aren¡¯t even considered people. As long as ye¡¯ got one of these you might as well be a hog.¡± Alaric reflexively touched his own brand, the skin was still sensitive, but Alaric didn¡¯t react to the pain. Instead, he simply leaned back to relax, watching the horses trot ahead through the iron bars of the wagon.


    The old man, still wanting to make conversation, spoke again more inquisitively. ¡°So. What ye¡¯ do to end up here? Banditry? You¡¯re young.¡± Alaric glanced down at his abdomen, where his mana core lay, and Avarice dormant within, not having spoken since the ordeal in the Emperor¡¯s Palace.


    ¡°I went on a spree of killings, targeting frail old men.¡± Alaric replied sarcastically. The old man gave out a hardy chuckle. Alaric was surprised such a small, frail man could command such a voice.


    ¡°We all have our secrets, I suppose.¡± With that the two fell silent. Alaric had counted three days since the journey began, through snippets of conversation he gathered that the group was heading to the Northern Border. The land north was frigid, and wrought with skirmishes and raids from beyond. In all his benevolence, it truly seemed Alaric was being sent to hell.


    ¡°Hold!¡± A voice up ahead shouted, and the wagon stopped. ¡°We¡¯ll rest here. Bind the nameless and start a fire.¡± Alaric habitually put his hands back, where they would be rope-bound to the iron bars of the wagon. Though he could not turn to see, Alaric felt the abrasive rope being tightened, and he grimaced. Soon night fell, and the only light came from the perpetual flicker of the guard¡¯s fire. The guard¡¯s campspot was well chosen, a small open area amidst de


    Alaric listened as the guards told tale of other expeditions, tavern brawls, women they seduced, and laughed to himself. They were tame stories that were hardly worth telling, and often just the result of alcohol.


    ¡°What¡¯s that light in the distance?¡± One of the guards asked. They all shared a silence for a moment before another answered. ¡°Looks like torchlight?¡± After a brief second the same guard asked again. ¡°Who¡¯s out there? Show yourself!¡± Alaric, hearing the commotion, did his best to turn towards the guards. Suddenly an arrow flew through the air, imbedding itself in the chest of one guard.


    ¡°We¡¯re under attack¡± Another guard yelled, and within seconds the remaining guards scrambled to get ready. They immediately stamped out the fire and readied their weapons. From within the trees a volley of arrows appeared, felling most of the guards immediately. Seeing the scale of the attack the few remaining guards remaining took off, leaving the tied up prisoners to fend for themselves. The old man, not having a view of the attack whispered quietly to Alaric.


    ¡°What is it? What do you see?¡± Alaric struggled for words. He watched the remaining guards getting picked off with arrows. Sensing his impending doom, Alaric began to struggle, trying to free himself from his bonds. From within he heard Averice¡¯s voice, faintly


    ¡°Focus¡­Hands¡± Alaric closed his eyes, listening to Averice, his last resort. When nothing happened, he began to panic. ¡°Fo¡­cus¡± Each of Averice¡¯s words was deliberate, sensing that, Alaric tried again. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, the outside commotion disappearing as Alaric focused on his hands. Alaric felt the ropes snap, and he opened his eyes to see a minuscule amount of the miasma leaking from his hands. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    The old man noticed Alaric was freed, but Alaric put his finger to his lips, motioning for the old man to keep silent. Alaric crept over to the wagon door and peered out towards the guard¡¯s camp. Several large men, dressed in rags and animal skins were knelt down over the guard¡¯s bodies, looting their pockets and examinng their weapons. Alaric snaked his hand around the bars and felt around until he grasped a padlock on the wagon door. He squeezed his eyes shut until like before miasma seeped from his hand, and the padlock fell to the ground.


    Alaric opened the door, each motion he made was slow and careful. He continued slinking around the wagon until he made his way to the corpse of a fleeing guard. His weapon lay in clear view of the attackers so Alaric felt around the guard¡¯s belongings until he drew a long dagger from the guard¡¯s belt. He then positioned himself next to the guard, pretending to be dead as well, all while grasping the dagger tightly. Nearby a single bandit had discovered the wagon. Alaric watched in helpless dismay as the bandit executed each prisoner inside with brutal efficiency, before waving his friends over


    The executioner was a large man wearing the skin of a bear and wielding a two-headed axe. H laughed as he cleaned off his bloodied weapon and made conversation with a fellow bandit. He spoke in a language Alaric didn¡¯t recognize, making a choking gesture to another bandit before letting out a hardy laugh.


    After some time, the executioner noticed the looted guard that Alaric lay next to. He barked something in the same strange language before trudging over.


    As soon as the executioner knelt down to investigate, Alaric lunged towards him, sticking the dagger blade into the man¡¯s neck. The large man made a silent, gurgling plea, and fell slumped over on top of Alaric. In the distance, the attackers clamored towards the disturbance. As the bandits approached, Alaric was panicking, trapped under the large man¡¯s body. He struggled repeatedly to heave the body off but it was no use.


    As Alaric gave up hope, the sound of tramping hooves reverberated through the ground. From the trees, tens of horsemen appeared, trampling through the bandits that had assaulted the wagon. Alaric breathed a sigh of relief as he realized he was saved. With one final burst of effort, he pushed the man¡¯s body off of him and stood up. Immediately the horsemen see him and draw their blades. Alaric immediately froze, dropped the knife, and raised his hands. From within the horsemen¡¯s ranks emerged a white steed clad in steel armor, clearly more ornate than the rest.


    The figure riding the horse bore equally ornate armor, covering the rider¡¯s whole body. The white steed halted in front of Alaric, the rider staring him down, and removing a thick armored helmet. Alaric¡¯s eyes widened as beneath the helmet was not the rugged man he expected, but a beautiful woman with long silver hair. From his brief lessons with Donnell, Alaric had learned some noble mannerisms. He immediately bowed down to the woman, sensing she was connected to nobility.


    ¡°My Lady.¡± Alaric averted his eyes respectfully. The woman glanced at Alaric¡¯s brand and scoffed, ignoring him.


    ¡°Quiet, nameless.¡± The woman then turned to the horseman next to her and spoke bluntly. ¡°Captain, see to it these corpses are looted and burned.¡± The captain, a burly bald man with a thick mustache, pounded his chest twice and took off, barking off orders as he went. ¡°The rest of you, back to camp, then get some rest before dawn.¡± The horsemen all began to move. One grabbed Alaric¡¯s arm, but the silver-haired woman brushed him off. ¡°No, I¡¯ll have him ride with me.¡± She turned to face Alaric, her glare, searching. ¡°Quite clever, hiding among the bodies.¡± Alaric didn¡¯t dare speak. ¡°I find it odd, however, that the sole survivor of a barbarian raid should be some emaciated nameless.¡± Alaric looked down, realizing it was better if he kept his mouth shut.¡±In any case, it¡¯s good you survived. New recruits are scarce, especially crafty ones like yourself.¡± The woman motioned over to another horseman. ¡°Hubert, have the nameless man ride with you. Take him to camp.¡±


    The woman covered her nose and added ¡°And see him bathed. He smells of shit.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Warden Blackwater.¡± The man, Hubert did the same chest-pounding salute, then hoisted Alaric behind him.


    ¡°This is your first time riding a horse, I¡¯m sure. Just ¡®old onto the armor¡­And don¡¯t fall off, else it¡¯ll be on my ass.¡± Alaric nodded, grasping the horse¡¯s armor. The horse carrying Alaric maneuvered around the attacker¡¯s remains before matching pace with the other horseman heading back to camp. Nothing could be heard over the sound of rustling armor and galloping hooves, so the trip to camp was mostly silent. They traveled through the night, the dense forest giving way to a vast tundra, dotted with pine trees and more blanketed snow, before finally arriving at camp, which was already bustling with activity.

 Chapter 4

    The Warden¡¯s tent was warm. That¡¯s the first thing Alaric thought as he walked in. Despite the camp being temporary, the tent was outfitted with a full set of furniture.


    ¡°Sit down.¡± The Warden demanded. Alaric sat himself on a nearby couch, ecstatic to be comfortable for the first time he could remember. ¡°I looked into you¡­nothing aside from your status as nameless.¡± The Warden made her way to behind her desk where she produced a bottle of wine. She poured a glass of wine using a present glass and continued to speak. ¡°Why is it that there¡¯s nothing documented about your past? You were also added to the prisoner registry quite last minute.¡± The Warden raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. ¡°I won¡¯t ask who you are. Frankly, it¡¯s not important..¡± The Warden set down the glass on her desk and leaned in close to Alaric. ¡°You can be a good soldier, or you will die a dog¡¯s death.¡± The Warden stood up, shooting a glare at Alaric as she did so. ¡°You would do well to keep your head down. I¡¯m not the only one in command who finds you suspicious.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Warden,¡± Alaric replied. In response, The Warden gave an innocent smile.


    ¡°You learn well.¡± She said in haste before exiting the tent. Before Alaric had time to wonder what next to do, another man Alaric recognized as Hubert marched in.


    ¡°We¡¯re taking a detail back to Headquarters. Warden¡¯s ordered you along.¡±  Alaric stood himself up, lamenting not being able to spend more time on the couch.


    ¡°When do we leave? And where am I to sleep?¡± Alaric stretched, anxious to experience a proper bed. In response Hubert sighed, there was a note of disappointment as he remarked,


    ¡°The Warden thinks it wise we leave immediately.¡± Alaric¡¯s shoulders sunk, every ounce of anticipation immediately leaving his body.


    ¡°Do I get my own horse?¡± Alaric asked. Hubert chuckled in response but said nothing more as they left the tent. Already, several horses were being packed with spare rations and other supplies. Hubert approached one of the horses and took off his own helmet, hanging it against the saddle. Alaric stared curiously, as he had not yet seen Hubert without his helmet. He looked somewhat similar to Alaric. Both had longer, unkempt hair, but Hubert was clean-shaven. Hubert was also a much larger man than Alaric, sporting the musculature of a man who¡¯s fought in many battles.


    Alaric mounted Hubert¡¯s horse, facing oppositely from Hubert. Already uncomfortable as is, Alaric groaned as two soldiers bound Alaric¡¯s hands and then tied Alaric to the saddle so he wouldn¡¯t fall off. Hubert glanced at Alaric, and sensing Alaric¡¯s disdain tried to give him ease.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite lucky, you know. Most prisoners die before becoming nameless. And The Northern Front isn¡¯t the hellscape it¡¯s made out to be. Mostly.¡± From this, Alaric did not feel at ease one bit.


    ¡°Either way, I¡¯m better off than before.¡± Alaric joked. Curious, Hubert pried.


    ¡°Oh, yeah? What¡¯s worse than bein¡¯ nameless?¡± Alaric thought on how to reply before responding.


    ¡°I was stuck deep in an Imperial prison.¡± In response, Hubert¡¯s brow furrowed.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Imperial prisons are only for those who are most wanted...Like spies, political prisoners, and the like. Quit joking around, where were you really?¡± Not sure how to respond Alaric made up something dismissive.


    ¡°I was the slave of a rich noble, then I rebelled and ended up here.¡± Alaric smiled, satisfied. What he said was not a complete lie. Hubert shrugged in response,


    ¡°A real dumb shit you are, eh?¡± When Alaric didn¡¯t respond Hubert gave a small laugh. Just then, a horseman clad in armor rode up in front of the group. Alaric noted his bald head, remembering him as the captain from earlier. The Captain cleared his throat and began to speak.


    ¡°We ride through the night, as to arrive before dawn. Keep your torches unlit! If I see a single goddamned flame you¡¯ll spend your time at Headquarters outside. I will make sure of it. Hyah.¡± The Captain snapped his horse''s reigns and all the horsemen were off towards their destination.


    The night was cold, and already Alaric found himself reminiscing the moments spent warm. The sky began to lighten into a dull grey signaling morning. Headquarters must be close, Alaric thought as the band of horsemen continued through pine forests.


    ¡°Hold for a moment!¡± The Captain yelled from somewhere up front. The horsemen all came to a halt, their steeds rearing in displeasure.


    ¡°What¡¯s up ahead?¡± Alaric asked, unable to see.


    ¡°Dunno. Could be trouble, The Captain almost never stops en route.¡± Eventually, the horsemen began moving again at a slow trot, making their way towards the captain. Alaric could smell an air of wariness among the horsemen, but nobody would say why. He wouldn¡¯t have to wonder for long, however, as soon Alaric passed by what looked to be a man impaled against a tree. The man sat, slumped forward against the body of a spear, his helmet frosted over. The Captain dismounted from his horse and kneeled down to inspect the body.


    ¡°This was recent. Hours ago at most.¡± He said to himself. The Captain then remounted before yelling orders to the rest of the horsemen. ¡°Double pace for the rest of the journey! All of you mount up, now!¡± The horsemen took off towards headquarters with haste.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Alaric inquired, craning his neck towards the front of the group.


    ¡°They found the body of one of our scouts. Could be bad.¡± Hubert replied, worried. Alaric finally understood.


    ¡°You¡¯re saying someone might attack Headquarters?¡± Hubert laughed before replying.


    ¡°Not just someone, It¡¯s most likely Ludrunia.¡± Alaric had never heard of the nation so he asked further.


    ¡°Ludrunia? What¡¯s Ludrunia.¡± Hubert looked at Alaric, taken aback.


    ¡°Who do you think we were fighting against in this century-long war?¡± Alaric looked down sheepishly. He didn¡¯t dare expose the fact that he wasn¡¯t aware of the century-long war Hubert was referring to.


    The mood was grim for the next few hours as the soldiers dreaded what they might find in Headquarters. Fortunately, as the Headquarters came into view, the entire band of horsemen sighed collectively in relief. The Captain rode ahead to speak with the gate guard and the rest of the horsemen slowed down as they approached. As the horsemen came to a stop, a soldier approached Alaric, removing his bindings and helping him off the horse.


    Alaric turned to look at Headquarters for the first time, his mouth agape. Surrounded by dense wilderness was the Headquarters. A massive fortress embedded in the side of a mountain, surrounded by thick walls that snaked along the mountain, and jutting towers that loomed over the landscape.


    ¡°Welcome to Fallhearth. Last Bastion of the Northern Border.¡±