《The Heroes Must Die [Revenge • Isekai • LitRPG]》 Relaunch Notice [05.03.25] + Title Change [To you, my brother] Hello! Just a quick notice to say that I will be relaunching this story tomorrow with a new title to better reflect the story. The first chapter will be out at 10:15 pm GMT, and the other 9 chapters of the Prologue will be released an hour after the other. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. I¡¯ve made some light changes to a few of these chapters, so to save you guys from rereading it all to catch up I¡¯ll summarise these in the author¡¯s note on Friday¡¯s chapter (Chapter 12). I¡¯ll also release some chapters on the weekend as well to make up for the relaunch time. I hope you guys enjoy :) - lusll [Prologue] Chapter 1 - From You [Prologue] Blood smothered the floor. My blood. Flowing from an arm which was no longer there. The other lay loose to my side. In my hand, a gladius, held with what little strength I had left. A sword which had seemed so light, which had been so faithful to me since my arrival all those years ago, now weighing heavy within my fingers. [Bleeding] -865, -893, -961, ¡­ The numbers ticked incessantly on. As if the pain I felt wasn¡¯t enough. With every step, I was reminded of the arrowheads buried deep within my back. A recurrent sting that accompanied me as I staggered my way across the marble. Moonlight sliced through the room with shards of pale blue but from opposite emerged a shrouded figure, one I could not quite make out in the dark. I raised my sword in response, my muscles screaming at me as I readied myself once more. But my resolve, one I had so desperately held on to, shattered the moment he stepped into the light. ¡°Ah¡­¡± All at once, everything came crashing down. I fell to my knees, my sword clattering as it dropped to the ground beside me. ¡°You too, Leus¡­?¡± Words that barely made it out of my mouth, tortured by a hopelessness which gored a hole in my heart. Yet his name hung between us, the weight of those words disrupted only by the scraping of metal on marble he walked closer. His silence told me everything I needed. For a moment I saw a glint. A single tear, trailing from beneath his eye. One reflected in the moonlight, along with the sword he now brought before him. In its blade, I saw my wearied complexion. A despondent face, lacerated by cuts, staring back at me. He raised it higher, and I closed my eyes. A final thought flickering across my mind. A warm face, a carefree laugh. I¡¯m sorry. Brother. ¡­ [Chapter 1 - From you] A world of monsters and iron, and into it I was bringing a Desert Eagle. A dry smile crossed my mouth at the thought. The colossal Minnesotan pistol lay loose in my open hand. A wildly impractical choice, but one which had saved my life more times than I could count. It served almost as a lucky charm, a reassuring weight against the door before me, standing exactly where Vin had recounted it to be. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Arithea. That other world beyond. Where he had gone. Where he had died. The door had appeared wholly unassuming when I first laid eyes upon it. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I had made my way through the debris smothering the hill ascent. Sections of smashed electronics and car parts sprawled amongst the dirt, enveloped by the wild grass and weeds which grew around. And yet there it was, in a small clearing all by itself. A single, inconspicuous white door. The paint peeling off its frail wooden frame, revealing the battered oak which lay beneath. Immediately I had stepped forth, reaching out as I tentatively clasped the cold metal handle. Anticipation shook my arm. A fear perhaps, of what I would see. But when I pulled it towards me, greeted again by the familiar sight of the late afternoon sky, I felt nothing but a wave of relief. Gently pushing the door back to a close, I set my bag down opposite as I sat there. Waiting. ¡°Sunset on August 22nd,¡± my brother had written. Half an hour left. It had only been a week since I heard from him once more. I recalled that afternoon: the air lulled into a soft hum by the sound of cicadas, perforated only by the hubbub of traffic and people twenty floors below. In that sweltering heat, a single parcel lay before me, its brown cardboard setting itself apart from the battered tiled floor. Initially I had treated it with caution, I had not ordered anything after all. And yet discovery as to the sender wrought a sudden anguish within me. ¡°Vinny.¡± The courier had said, a name I had not heard for over half a decade. My brother¡¯s name. The address, scrawled undeniably in his messy handwriting, brought forth a wave of sadness interlaced with nostalgia. Setting it down, my mind was certain that it was some callous prank. One done in awfully poor taste. But a slither of hope, buried deep within me, tugged at me to open it. A moment of hesitation halted my hands as I ran the boxcutter through the tape. A nervousness, an unease as to what I might find. And then it was gone, pushed aside along with the box panels to reveal what was stored within. A single book confronted me, its leather aged and worn. Resting there, it looked modest almost, betraying nothing as to the content it held. Twenty minutes left. I jerked back to reality. Before me lay the city, a tall mass of white and glass nestled within the dense vegetation of the mountains around it. At its heart sat a pool of deep blue, stretching into the horizon from within the bay which comprised the city port. The sleepy chirping of birds filled the quiet evening sky, disrupted only by the occasional ship horn signaling its departure. I checked my provisions again, not that it would matter if I had forgotten anything. There was no going back. I had thrown in only the essentials. My brother¡¯s diary for one, nestled at the bottom amongst the few clothes I had brought with me. Most would have to be sourced from that world, lest I drew any unwanted attention. Despite this low-profile ballistic armour still remained mounted to my chest, hidden beneath the long coat I had worn. At least, as low profile as fourteen kilograms of ceramic plate could get. Even in this heat, its weight offered some comfort compared to the world I was about to enter. .50 AE rounds made up most of the remaining bulk in my bag. Ammunition for the Eagle, enough to ¡°kill a horde of bears¡± the seller had smirked. A last resort for sure, but without the handgun I felt almost naked. The Eikhorn alleviated that feeling by a little, its Tant¨­-styled blade sheathed in the holster strapped around my thigh. A far more practical choice, and one I would most likely use. If I was to follow my brother¡¯s chronology, military technology in that other world seemed characteristically fantasy. Most favoured medieval-era arms and armour. What I had was therefore sufficient, both to ensure my basic survival in the wild, but also against other people. Ten minutes left. The wind had picked up, passing a gentle breeze through the trees whilst the grass swayed in cohesion. In the distance I made out the movement of cars, the bustle of people as they headed home from work. Orange rays intermingled with the blue sky in a mesmerising dance as the sun slowly wandered towards the horizon. Five minutes. I breathed out a sigh, throwing the bag over my shoulder. It was nearly time. The door looked as inconspicuous as ever. It seemed to be almost in a world of its own, gently closed within that thin frame, unperturbed by the soft wind which swept through the bay. Now. The gun stayed in my hand, thumb poised to flick off the safety. Taking in a deep breath, I strode across the dirt, grabbing the handle firmly, pulled and- There it was. A whole different world. Around me, the sun tinted the sky in its last moments. I could hear the cars in the distance, smell the ocean air that mingled with the humidity of the summer evening, feel the soft breeze that blew past my ears. And yet in front of me, ahead of me, was something incoherently different. A portal was the only way to describe it. Within the door¡¯s frame contained long fields of clear green grass, rippling beneath cerulean blue skies. And in its centre: two pale moons, one a washed red, the other a bone white. It was right there before me, a whole different world; one that took my brother, and with it his life. The scent of cold air, subtle but in striking contrast to the environment I was in, drifted past my nose. I lingered for a moment longer, pausing not only to comprehend the view that now lay in front, but also to acknowledge the reality I would leave behind. And with it, the sense of normality I had always known. And then I steeled myself, stepped forwards, and passed through the frame into the world beyond. Chapter 2 - Possessor [Chapter 2 - Possessor] My feet landed on solid grass. The dirt, the air, it all felt similar and yet, I could not shake off the feeling that something about it was inherently¡­ different. Looking behind me, within the door lay the world I knew, the sky entering its solemn blue hour as the sun finished its path beneath the horizon. A thin layer of orange separated it from the deep blue of the ocean, fracturing across the glass of the skyscrapers embedded within the landscape. I wondered when it would be the next time I could see the same view again, feel the same warmth that radiated from that summer evening scene, and for a moment I indulged myself, taking it all in. Holding onto the handle, I slowly pulled it towards me until, with a satisfying click, it closed. I hesitantly twisted and pushed it back once more, just to see. And that other world, the one I had spent my entire life in, the one which had held everything I had ever known, was gone. In its place was a field of lush greenery. And the door itself was just that. A solitary wooden door, peeling in its white paint, discarded atop a grassy hill. And I stood there with it for a moment longer, one hand still clutching on to that handle. *** Now that I was actually here, the world around me felt even more surreal. I slipped my gun into its holster, concealed discreetly beneath my long coat. I would not need it here, using it would only draw unwanted attention. The open plain did not last long, bordered by a forest which gave no indication as to what it held. As I headed down, I turned to look back once more. The door stood there alone, a defiant frame of white against a sea of blue and green. I wondered to myself how it had been left there in the first place. Whether this one, like its counterpart in that junkyard, had been placed there intentionally. And whether, once my task was finished, I could rely again on this same door to return home. These thoughts coloured it with a certain melancholy in my eyes, and my gaze lingered on it for a brief second more. Then I turned around, and continued on my path. *** Blood was the first indication. That, and the silence. The trees crept in around me as I wandered through the forest, their branches growing thicker and thicker with every step. Gradually, the blue dome that had been the sky above was now shrouded by dense foliage, hidden behind a canopy of woodland green and brown. Even then daylight pierced through. Rays of sun cutting the forest dark, unrelenting yet comforting in its presence. It seemed to almost warm the cool air, alleviating the chill crisp I tasted with every breath. Vin had drawn numerous maps in his diary. Some rendered intricate details of faraway towns and castles. Others tracked oceans, spanned continents. But here, they were of no help. There were no landmarks to discern my location, no clear markers to guide my way. Here, there was nothing but endless trees and leaves. And so I trudged on, accompanied only by the rhythmic crunch beneath each step. I was glad at least that I had not arrived in some godforsaken hell hole. The world around me was abundant with life; the air filled with the gentle sound of birds mingling with the soft swaying of trees, disturbed only by the occasional inquisitive squeaking of some small critter. And for a brief second I found myself relaxing slightly, surrendering myself to this comforting ambience which surrounded me. That was, until I saw it. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. A crimson mark splattered across an oaken trunk. Immediately I was wrenched back into the reality I faced. My hand snapped towards my thigh, drawing out my knife as I gripped it tight in front of me. The gun would be too loud, for now I did not know how many were near. Reassurance of the soft polyamide handle beneath my fingers quickly replaced the ease I had felt. I scanned the trees, alert for even the slightest movement. The sounds had died down, the forest smothered beneath an eerie silence. I had been oblivious, immersed in my own world as I trekked endlessly forth. A mistaken rhythm I had lost myself to, one now replaced by the tension I felt in every muscle. I advanced cautiously, taking in everything around me with each step. The silence, ears straining to hear anything that may contradict it. The cold air, brushing against the skin on my arms, seeming to now cool even the sunlight which had appeared so radiant before. And then, the bodies. First hidden amongst the foliage, nestled between the roots of an unassuming tree. And then more, and more, and more. I had seen my fair share of blood, but I couldn''t help but grimace at the sight that lay before me. A collage of blood and iron: corpses strewn across the forest floor; limbs hewn and dismembered, littered across the thicket; arrows embedded in armour, marring the metal with sanguine trails behind them. It was evident a battle had occurred. A clash of blue and red, attested to by the fabrics of the soldiers and the contrasting emblems. Judging by the smell however, or lack of, it had been fairly recent. Decay had not yet graced this place, the bodies were still fresh. I stepped cautiously forwards, my eyes grasping at the scene before me. The heads I encountered were fortunately still covered by their helmets, shielding me from the undoubtedly haunting visages of horror and pain. Their armour on the other hand yielded much more information. The soldiers bore their colours with pride, adorning vibrant cloths in a clear display of allegiance. For those in blue, the metal was welded with an unmistakably Romanic inspiration. Slabs of steel embraced torsos in a brutalist manner while their faces lay shielded behind a full metal mask. As if not to be outdone, their counterparts bore thick plates of rigid steel and leather, red insignia radiating atop the surcoats they wore. Scars and dents decorated each component, each one a testament to another blow sustained. It was a wonder that blood had been spilt here at all, both sides appeared more metal than flesh. ¡°Nothing.¡± My voice broke the silence, cautious but assertive. I lowered my arm. There was no life here. Picking my way through the corpses, my eyes drifted from one body to another. Whilst it was hardly a welcoming first encounter with this world¡¯s inhabitants, the scene was at least useful. That such an armoury had been left here made it obvious both sides had departed swiftly. Arrows bore primarily upon the soldiers in blue, whereas their medieval counterparts had sustained damage mostly from the immediate front. I pulled a splintered spear from the ground, briefly inspecting the shattered wood. An ambush. One the Romans had clearly lost, forcing them into a frantic retreat. I pressed on, tossing the spear to the side. Occasionally I picked up another weapon, eager for anything I could use, but the majority of arms and armour I avoided. They were too ornate, too distinguishable to be worn even if I was to find one which suited me. Either that, or too heavily damaged and dulled with blood. I would not want to mistakenly align myself to either faction, no matter how great the workmanship of their items were. The smell of charred flesh, vile but subtle, disturbed the earthy forest aroma I had accustomed myself to. Turning my head, my eyes traced it back to an array of scorch marks lining several trees in the distance, blackening wood and carbonizing bark. Yet the smell of sulfur I had expected along with it was non-existent, there was nothing to indicate any sort of gunpowder weaponry had been used to cause such devastation. I began my way towards it, but the sound of trickling water stopped me in my tracks. My ears perked up. It was faint, but undeniable. The flow of water, somewhere to my right. A gentle sound, drifting through the melancholy silence of the battlefield, at odds with the carnage around me. I walked nearer, careful to step over the discarded limbs which lay littered across the forest floor. It was getting louder, more prominent. My knife was still in hand by my side, the handle held tightly in my grasp. Closer, and closer. And there, amidst the branches, a clearing illuminated by broad rays of light. This was where the battle had been thickest. Bodies scattered everywhere, armour dented and gouged to almost scrap. It was evident to see why. A single figure knelt there, hunched over by the stream; his weight propped up against a steel spatha embedded into the ground. Numerous arrows filled his back, tearing holes into the once proud blue cloth trailing behind him. The soldier himself was identifiably one of importance, the edges of his armour lined with equally muted gold. I walked nearer, wary, half expecting his head to jerk back to face me. But no movement came, even when I stood right beside him. I was surprised that even his armour had been left untouched, abandoned by fleeing allies and pursuing soldiers alike. The authority he held was clear. I admired the ornateness of the plating, carved humbly in the same minimalist fashion like those under his command. The gold demanded an air of respect, whispering tales of untold battles, ordaining authority earned through renown. All of which had ended. Here. My eyes tracked upwards, pathing from his dismembered arm towards his helmet, drawn to this figure whose presence dominated his surroundings. Yet something caught my eye. A wink, momentarily appearing beneath the neck plates of his cuirass. I brought myself closer, discarding my fears of any sudden response. Along the lining of his neck, discreetly exposed behind the imposing steel, a single metal chain snaked itself between the leather and tunic. It was hidden there, carefully tucked away by its owner. And I found myself, hesitantly, reaching out. In spite of my discomfort, something drew me towards it, compelled forwards by some unknown force. The man¡¯s skin was cool to the touch, not quite chilled by the presence of death. And the chain itself was light, delicate. But as I slowly lifted it up, I felt a weight pulling back. My fingers traced it, pulling this unknown mass closer. And it arose out of the fabric. For a brief second I caught it, a beautiful glass vial, capped on either end by ornate gold, pillars on each side as if a cage. Inside, a myriad of black and purple, suspended midair in its container. And within, two eyes, irises of solid gold, staring straight at me. Then the world exploded. Darkness consumed my vision, pain smothering my nerves. My face aflame with agony, a fire which ran rampant through my body. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I stumbled back, eager to distance myself from its source, grasping back to feel something, anything but the suffering which filled my nerves. But there was nothing else. I was there, alone in the void, writhing out. And before me, in front of me, eyes. Numerous eyes. Irises aflame, staring into me from the void, bearing holes into my flesh, piercing into my soul. My ears, pummelled by a gushing wind amongst the emptiness of space, assaulted by the incessant mingling of shouting and chanting in a foreign tongue. Words, echoing with untold depth, reverberating in my mind. Snarling, resonating, rasping, and then¡­ Silence. Chapter 3 - Scavengers in the Dark [Chapter 3 - Scavengers in the Dark] I awoke with a start. The taste of blood filled my mouth, mingling with the saliva and dirt which pooled before my open jaw. My head was on the ground, the side of my face buried in the dirt. Coughing was accompanied by a discharge of crimson, a symptom following the headache which tore my mind asunder. Voices in the distance. I wasn¡¯t sure how long had passed. The cool night air brushed against my skin, my nose catching with it the faint smell of smoke. Opposite me lay the soldier in silver and gold. He was no longer hunched over, having collapsed much like I had. I tried to prop myself up on one arm, but I threw the other immediately out in front as my strength gave way. Voices again, this time louder. It took everything I had to force myself up, wrenching out an exhausted grunt as I staggered forwards to maintain some form of balance. Blood rushed to my head and I stumbled, endeavouring to avoid the bodies strewn across my path. Each movement was accompanied by the screaming of muscle, a pain relieved only by my eventual collapse into the roots of a nearby tree. The voices were much closer now, emanating from the torch light which flickered in the treeline across. My gasps sounded in the quiet, a desperate attempt to bring my frantic breathing under control as I pressed my face against the cold wood, eyes steady on the growing light. Two men soon emerged, stepping into the clearing with flaming torches in hand. By their sides rested swords sheathed in leather scabbards, the metal pommels glinting with every step. One was covered by a muted gambeson, the padded grey armour spanning his entire body. His companion favoured a metal breastplate instead, worn and grimy from neglect. Bandits, judging from their mismatched equipment, and the fresh blood which still glistened over their gloves. Deserters or ex-mercenaries, it did not matter. It would be of no good for them to know I was here. Words exchanged between the two, their tone conversational with a hint of snide cruelty. They seemed unfazed by the bodies surrounding them, occasionally stopping to peer closer at a fallen corpse. I put my knife away, slowly pulling the handgun out in exchange. They seemed to be alone, there was nothing in their behaviour to indicate they were accompanied by a larger group nearby. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The Eickhorn would not help me here. A knife offered little against two full broadswords, not even mentioning the hefty armour the two had borne. As they trudged closer, I could just about make out the words they spoke. The language was one unknown to me, but still I strained my ears, attempting to make out anything I could. Pathetic. A rasp, drowsy but condescending. That single word filled my mind. For a second it startled me, jolting forwards as my eyes widened. And then immediately a wince, a sharp excruciating pain inflicted by the voice which sounded in my head. Adrenaline demanded that I regain my composure, my breath held as I glanced back in fear that the two men had noticed me even across this distance. Nothing. Despite the voice I had heard, they were oblivious, too absorbed in their exchange. For a brief moment nothing happened, the two conversing as they pressed closer. Then their words seemed to distort, their dialogue muffled, blurring in my ear. As quickly as it had come, the feeling stopped. In its place, comprehension of their speech flowed into my head, clarifying itself as if they spoke a language I had always known. My brows furrowed. If not for the tense situation, I would have exclaimed in shock. A snicker sounded at the back of my mind, but before I could query it the men¡¯s voices disrupted my attention. ¡°All this fucking money around us and we can¡¯t touch shit.¡± A northern accent. It was thick, spat out by the taller of the two in the gambeson. ¡°These guys are Atreian elites.¡± The other pushed a body to its side, turning him over with his foot. ¡°They see one plate in your hands and you¡¯ll be dead in the morning.¡± ¡°We sell one set and we¡¯re good for life. This guy¡¯s alone can buy a whole damn village.¡± ¡°You sell one set,¡± he turned to face his taller companion, his voice snarky, almost accusatory, ¡°and you¡¯ll be strung up a fucking tree. Noone will buy it you fuck.¡± He turned back, waving his torch in an arcing motion as he gazed across the clearing. I shifted to the side, shielding myself from view. The light danced across the trees before me, casting shadows which swayed from left to right. ¡°Let¡¯s just find some conscripts and take what we can.¡± ¡°Oi, Ansgar.¡± A sudden nervousness, a hint of uncertainty evident in the larger man¡¯s voice. A silence followed, and then the trudging of feet; coming closer whilst not quite directly at me. I sat with bated breath, desperately listening out to make up for what I could not see. My exhaustion had died down now, replaced fully by the blood I felt pulsing in my veins. Killing both would not be difficult, the gun punched through steel without issue. The problem lay instead where eventually their companions grew concerned, or else found the holes remaining in their unbreathing chests. Bandits worked in groups. Their presence here was most certainly reconnaissance. Nonetheless I held the handgun tighter, my knuckles white from the tension. I could hear them drawing nearer, the undergrowth crunching beneath their shoes, accompanied by the occasional thudding of metal as another soldier was pushed aside. I flicked the safety off. Only a few metres away now. I readied myself to swing, gun firmly clasped between my hands, moving to push myself forwards from the balls of my feet. And then- The same voice, this time the unease was clear. ¡°Shit, is that¡­?¡± ¡°Nemetus.¡± A single word, breathed out by the voice I recognised to be Ansgar¡¯s. Gone was the cockiness, replaced by an evident panic. I risked a glance, peeking out from behind the tree. Gambeson was knelt against the soldier in gold, one hand pulling the body back to show his face, the other holding his torch out in front. Angsgar had recoiled at the sight, my eyes just barely making out his fearful expression in the dark. ¡°We¡¯re fucking leaving¡±. He staggered back, his words shaking with an unknown fear. ¡°Kallas, now!¡± Kallas stumbled to follow, hurriedly grabbing the torch he had just clumsily dropped beside the stream. They clambered back towards the treeline they had come from, the haste of their movement all the more betraying their agitated temperament. It was accompanied by the odd glance backwards, as if they feared the soldier would rise and give chase. Only when they had passed beyond the trees did I push myself up. With nowhere else to go, following them seemed as good a path as any. With this distance, I could move without fear of discovery, the forest shrouding my sight and sound. My exhaustion was still there, but the brief respite I had been granted helped me put one foot in front of the other. Unease at the earlier voice plagued the back of my mind, but for now there was nothing I could do to enquire it further. If not for my newfound understanding of the two men¡¯s conversation, I would have doubted that it had even occurred. Dismissed as a figment of my imagination, some paranoid hallucination wrought by the adrenaline and tension of the moment, and nothing more. Nemetus. The soldier was not known to me, but the fear he instilled was clear. Chapter 4 - A Knife Unsheathed [Chapter 4 - A Knife Unsheathed] The manor Kallas and Ansgar entered was not especially large. Its status was nonetheless obvious from the limestone brickwork and tiled roof, a stark contrast to the mud village walls I had flitted across a few hundred meters behind. It had taken them some distance to get here. If not for their torches, I would have long lost them in the forest dark. Instead, it betrayed their position well, serving as guides of light as I followed them through the undergrowth. Whilst they were far enough ahead to not hear me, I still took care to make as little noise I could, avoiding the branches and leaves webbing across my path. When the forest finally cleared, it gave way again to vast open plains. Here, the woodland ceiling which had shielded the sky above was now gone. In its place, a dome of night blue, rendered into a tinge of purple by the twin moons inhabiting it. Silhouettes of clouds drifted slowly past, obscuring the stars which watched the world from above. Thatch houses dotted the scene, white mudwalls held up amongst frames of timber. And in between, a dirt road, one ground into existence by the continuous movement of villagers and carts. The manor house lay to the side, isolated from the rest by a small stream. As if to emphasise this, fire light clustered around, emanating from the lanterns which decorated the beige manor walls. The rest of the village was left dark, save for a singular flame at its center. As I made my way through, it was clear to see why. At the village¡¯s centre lay a stone well, a bucket suspended by the wooden pulley atop. Several bandits had gathered, identifiable by their mismatched armour and rough demeanour. Some sat on stools, others lazed across the floor. The one with the torch had propped himself up, leaning against the frame of the well. And around them, spread numerous corpses. Some had been dragged into a mound, their bodies blackened and burnt, as dark as the dried blood which trailed behind them. Others had been killed there and then, red pooling around dismembered limbs, splattered in streaks across the walls of the houses nearby. Heads, attached or otherwise, lay illuminated by moonlight. All bore tortured expressions, whether of pain or of anguish. I gagged, repressing a retch invoked by the grotesque sight before me. Unlike the battlefield before, this had been a straightforward massacre, one which the men had revelled in. There were only six of them here, all armed with a wide array of weapons, laughing to themselves in their blood-soaked fabrics as they mocked the dead around them. A leering smile found its way onto the mouths of some as Kallas and Ansgar approached. I was too far to hear the words exchanged, but even then I could make out the wavering of their arrogance upon hearing the news. Those that were seated quickly stood up, and together they made their way towards the manor with an uneasy haste. With their attention predisposed, I slipped between the houses, following their movement down the road. A muffled sob halted my steps. I could hear it through the wall, the sound blurred but undeniable. And with it, wrought an anger within me, fingers curling around my knife. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The road itself ran to the manor gate, transitioning into a small bridge which pathed its way over the stream flowing from the forest. Upon landing ashore it branched out, the smaller route heading for fields that stretched far into the distance. The larger on the other hand stopped at the stone doorway, fixed against the step that lay beneath the arch. To its side sat a guard, his spear lopsided in one arm whilst the other held a wooden tankard to his lips. Crossing the bridge would draw me too near for my liking, so I observed them from the bank opposite, hiding amongst the shrubbery which lined the river. A few words were exchanged, and then he waved them in impassively. Even from here I could hear the raucous laughter flowing from the manor. A grotesque cackling of deprived revelry, disrupted only by the occasional scream which preceded another round of sadistic mirth. I gritted my teeth. Despite the amount of death I had seen today, no sight disgusted me more than what I had witnessed in that village square. A sober silence washed over, broken only by the voice I recognised to be Kallas¡¯. The words I could not make out, too subdued by the brickwork, but a dismissive remark from an unknown speaker was made in response. Laughter renewed again, a cacophony built upon the rhythmic thudding of wood as tankards smashed onto tables. And the guard sat there alone, his unbroken disposition remaining one of boredom. I lay there as well, hidden behind the hedgerow, eyes observing through the branches, waiting once more. *** It took some time for the noise to die down. The guard dozed off first, his head slumped against the brick with his arm around his spear, mouth half open in a gentle snore as the tankard hung free from his unclenched hand. The rest of the manor soon followed suit, and the air that had been filled with foul laughter was now one of complete silence. It was obvious as to why security was so lax. The villagers who would resist lay dead in the square behind, the brutal treatment they faced undoubtedly discouraging the survivors. The arms and armour the bandits carried with them were likely to the same effect, highlighting the violence they could inflict at any given moment. As for Nematus, no matter how much they feared him he still lay unmoving in that clearing, twelve miles back. I was glad at least that I would not feel any guilt in the task I was about to perform. I held my knife behind my back, my other arm skimming the cold stone in front as I crept across the bridge. My eyes locked onto the sleeping figure ahead, alert for even the slightest movement. Save for the odd muttering and scratching of neck, no sign came to indicate any awakening. I found myself soon in front of him, gaze focused upon his exposed neck, knife creeping forwards in bated breath. Then my hand slammed his nose and mouth into the brickwork, the knife in my right slitting his throat in one fluid motion. He startled, eyes wide open, arms flailing in panic as he dropped his tankard. For a brief second more he scrambled around, groping for my arm, his spear, his throat, anything to stop the blood flowing from his neck. But quickly unconsciousness took him, heralded by a sudden stiffness as his body succumbed to shock. He slumped back, numbers emanating from the open wound, a flow of red integers ticking at a constant rate. -12, -8, -10, -6 Although I knew it was coming, it was still a bizarre sight to see. An indicator of his blood loss, displayed clearly before my very eyes. Save for the brief gargling as his heart desperately tried to nutriate his brain, he died without further sound. -9, -5, -0, -0 The 0s ticked thrice before disappearing completely, succeeded by a brief +26 exp which quickly followed suit. The number was not without reason. As soon as I saw it I could feel its effects rippling through my body. I clenched my hand, and a familiarity spread through it. A hint of muscle memory almost, an understanding of what motions I needed to do, if only by a little. For a second longer I kept my hand firm to his face, feeling out for any form of breathing. When none came, I finally let go. It had not even been a day, and someone¡¯s life had already been taken by my hands. Although not something I was unaccustomed to, the metallic taste in my mouth still reminded me of this fact once more. I spat it out, purging my mouth of the unpleasant taste. He had deserved it, the blood on his spear attested towards the cruelty he had inflicted. Drawing myself up, I glanced at the wooden door which led into the manor house. I had managed to keep the noise subdued, but still I was wary. Caution would be paramount here, I did not know their numbers and the raiders could stumble out unannounced for any reason. Fortunately none came, and my gaze reverted to the dead figure beside me. Red now smothered his front, but from his side I took his sword, strapping the belted sheath around my waist. Another weapon, one I would have to accustom myself to. The weight felt awkward, unfamiliar. I had no experience with it after all. Years of military involvement had developed for me a strong physique, accompanied by fluid knife skills and precise hand-eye coordination. Swordsmanship however, was an art wholly unknown to me. His kettle helm I simply lowered, covering his face and the knife slit that pathed its way across his throat. Another dry smile. As if the blood alone was not enough to show something had happened. If not for that, he looked as if he had simply dozed off. I left him there regardless, propped up against the stone wall of the manor. The brickwork seemed intimidating up close, smothered by a layer of ivy which snaked across the archway above me. In the small courtyard beyond, the main door into the house stood ajar on my right. Its timber thick and imposing, dark iron nails studding planks of solid oak wood. From beyond, an orange glow. A subdued flickering, emanating from the rooms behind. I took care to be light on my feet, cautious of the sound of gravel as I stepped towards the open door. Peeking in yielded little, the door was too close for me to see anything of substance. And so I gently pried it open, wincing at every creak of the rusted hinge. The foyer seemed welcoming enough, if not for the snoring and faint sobbing I could hear from the doorway ahead. I set my bag to the side, resting the unwieldy sword next to it. Knife in hand, I walked forwards once more, and turned into the manor hall. Chapter 5 - Night Raid [Chapter 5 - Night Raid] Death was dealt, silent and merciless. Beneath my hand the man struggled, his eyes bulging in fear as I slid the knife across his throat. I had pinned his head against the floorboards, using my weight to smother his attempts to scream. A slight sense of satisfaction came to me, almost savouring the pain I was inflicting in a cold, sadistic way. The scene around me had caused this. Many of the bandits¡¯ victims lay sprawled across the floor, their bodies maimed and tortured as the bandits had laughed and drunk themselves to sleep. The numbers ticked away, a sight I had learned to feel gratification for. -16, -18, -13 They were higher now, likely because of the experience I had culminated alongside them. Over a dozen bandits had been killed in the same way. Trash. All of them. None deserved to live. I felt his body go limp, a gold +29 exp projected as he fell motionless to the ground. A slight disappointment, that still it had not led to any broader change. The crackling of wood was all that could be heard, disturbed by the occasional snore which the Eickhorn soon silenced. With each death, I felt the same sensation of growing confidence in my arms. A familiarity of where to cut, as if guided by some newly-forged intuition. As I turned to the next raider, a pair of eyes fixed upon me. Wide awake, open in evident fear. They belonged to a woman, her body battered and bruised, weight held up against one arm on the far side of the room. One of the villagers. I lifted a finger to my lips, and she nodded in understanding. I must have looked nightmarish, an unknown figure in that dimly lit hall, smothered by the blood of the bandits I had killed. Still I continued my task. The numbers ran thrice more before I was finished, the bodies now motionless against the very chairs they had slept on. I felt a sense of relief wash over me when I stood up. Gone was the tension within me, replaced by a weird sense of calm. Although the manor was not yet empty, this room had still been cleared. That offered me some respite, however brief. I made my way back to the woman, careful to avoid the bodies strewn across my path. ¡°Is that everyone?¡± A question I already knew the answer to. Ansgar and Kallas were missing, they were not amongst the dead which now lay behind me. My mouth spoke in a tongue I did not know, yet the words were rendered in a confident, if exhausted, manner. If not for my encounter with the two earlier, I would have been surprised. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Now I was just drained. Too much had happened today. She shook her head. ¡°One.¡± Her voice weak, a trembling finger pointing towards the stairs spiralling upwards against the corner. And then it fell, drifting instead towards the door on my left. ¡°More.¡± Judging from how they had left together, Ansgar and Kallas must have gone through there. The door was firm in its frame, it would not open without sound. My gaze moved towards the bannisters ascending the edge of the hall. I would head up first, clearing every room as I made my way back down. I was lucky that the manor was so quiet. It worked in my favour as much as it hindered me, my ears alert to any sound which might indicate the approach of bandits. Yet still I could not help but wince at every creaking of wood as I moved up the staircase. The blue stair runners occupying the floorboards were of some help, dampening my footsteps as I left a trail of red boot marks in my wake. At the top, the door stood half-closed. I leant against it, grasping the handle as I stole a glance inwards. It was the master bedroom, obvious from the colossal four-poster bed which dominated the centre of the room. The owner lay dead at his desk, a sword buried halfway across his chest, embedding him against the chair he had been tied to. Judging from the blood, he had not died quickly; the one responsible had taken great satisfaction in prolonging the pain. As I stepped over the books strewn across the floor, I appreciated how fortunate I was that the bandits were so arrogant. Along with its victim, the sword had hewn through some half a meter of solid oak, a clear display of almost inhuman strength. Not that it mattered of course. He too fell beneath a single clean knife stroke, a death far too painless than he deserved. As I headed out, I was stopped by a small glint in the corner of my eyes. A lip of glass, peering out from beneath a fur cape that had been draped lazily across the table. I knew what it was before I had even picked it up. A vial of red liquid, one I carefully slotted into my vest. The rest of the manor I could scavenge at my own leisure later. This however, I would take first. The rest of the rooms downstairs were cleared without much difficulty. The bandits I came across had all drunk themselves into a stupor, one I ensured they would never wake from. Soon there was only one room left, its entrance half open, embedded amongst the stone tiles which made up the kitchen floor. I headed down slowly. Descending was not a comfortable position to be in, especially when I knew my presence was not one to be welcomed. A grim sight quickly greeted me. The few torches flickering along the left wall comprised the majority of the light. Opposite stood beams of corroded iron, latticed into a screen that spanned the entire length of the room. And behind it, people. Rags draped across battered bodies, their expressions gaunt and despairing. Some turned to look at me as I stepped into the light. They however were not alone. Beneath the torches lay a circular wooden table, the candle set upon it illuminating the three men hunched over with cards still in hand. A guard I did not know sat closest with his back towards me, whilst beside him were Ansgar and Kallas. All three, still awake. Shit. Instantly I leapt across, abandoning caution for haste. The knife was in Ansgar¡¯s neck before he could even comprehend what was happening. I spun round, twisting the cut before using the momentum to bear upon his ally as well. Kallas was first to respond, roaring out, arms swinging to grab me as Ansgar staggered back, hands to his neck while blood gushed forth. Their friend fell to the ground, body writhing, mouth open as they desperately tried to speak. Nothing came save for the gargling of fluid. Even then I was still disadvantaged. Kallas had kept his gambeson on even here. The knife would not penetrate the jacket without difficulty, especially when it reached up to cover his neck. Worse still, their swords lay only a metre to the side, propped up against the wall in front of which they had been playing cards. ¡°Fucker.¡± A snarl, transitioning into a shout as he tried to alert the others. ¡°INTRU-¡±. I dashed at him before he could finish. His companions were all dead, each one personally ensured by my hands, but I did not want him to know. Ansgar stumbled forwards to stop me. The blood loss knocked him out almost immediately after, but the brief second he stalled me for was all Kallas needed. Kallas leapt across, grabbing the sword and unsheathing it all in one smooth arc. Fuck. A drawn out fight here would only end with me dead. I would have to finish it quickly. We gazed at each other, weapons poised, Ansgar¡¯s spluttering body lying in between. I was lucky he was at a disadvantage. The room was too narrow for him to comfortably swing, constrained by the walls which restricted his two handed blade. Nonetheless the tension lay heavy, reflected by his snarls as he pointed his sword towards my throat. ¡°You¡¯re fucking dead.¡± My silence angered him further, evoking a roar as he rushed forwards. An arc was not possible, and a thrust came towards my chest just as I suspected. I pushed myself to the right, the metal narrowly whistling past beneath my arm. Momentum carried him forwards, it would only take a second before he recovered his stance. But that second was all I needed. As I landed, I spun myself round, my far leg turning my body as I perched my weight upon the ball of my front foot. It served as the perfect springboard, pushing me away from the cobblestone tiles right into Kallas¡¯ exposed side. We collapsed into each other, a grunt of breath ripped from his mouth as my elbow rammed his solar plexus. He fell to the floor winded, myself on top, his sword dropping to his side. I held my forearm against his windpipe, forcing his jacket open with my fist, strangling him as I pushed him to the ground. His hands tried desperately to grasp at my face but I ignored it, bringing the knife into his chest. Once, -80, twice, -65, thrice¡­ and it was over. Chapter 6 - The Twins and the Wolf [Chapter 6 - The Twins and the Wolf] Twenty eight in total, all armed to the teeth. It was no wonder they had taken over this village with ease. I found the keys fastened to the belt of the unnamed raider, slotting it into the cell door with a satisfying click. The prisoners quickly filed out, and the serration of the Eickhorn made short work of the ropes binding several of their arms. Some greeted me with tears, others with a cautious gratitude or a fearful silence. It was a weird feeling, to have that many eyes all upon me at once, trying to gauge what they could of my character, and of my foreign clothing. ¡°The weapons.¡± I was the first to speak, my audience attentive, wary of my every word. ¡°Take them with you. If there are others, you know what to do.¡± Murmurs of understanding rippled through the crowd. They soon headed upwards, the ones in front taking the swords that lay discarded across the floor. Their voices changed to ones of hushed disbelief as soon as they caught sight of the corpses I had left behind. I turned to follow, but the sight of the two who remained stopped me in my tracks. A child, hunched over in the far corner of that now empty cell. Besides him a girl, her hair equally as white as his. She lay motionless against the cold stone floor, head propped up upon a pillow made haphazardly of straw. Bruises covered every conceivable inch of her exposed skin, her tunic doing little to mitigate the hits that had been inflicted upon her. He held her hand in his own, sobbing quietly as he knelt to her side. My gazed panned upwards, resting upon the charred skin which marked the base of his neck. A brand, burned into flesh, shaped into the image of a broken column. ¡°Slaves, brought here by the bandits.¡± I turned to see a man standing at the foot of the stairs, his body raked with cuts too numerous to count. ¡°They were here before us. The bandits tortured them for sport.¡± He threw a look of pity towards the girl. ¡°She said she¡¯d take the beatings. Her¡¯s and her brother¡¯s. They¡­ They did a number on her last night.¡± The sight tore at my heart. A sympathy perhaps, invoked by my own grief at the discovery of my brother¡¯s death. The very same reason I was here now. The boy looked up as I approached. Eyes of red and blue, dulled by the tears which streamed down his face. His arms were thin, he could not have been younger than fifteen, yet his build was vastly smaller than it should have been. An expression of false bravado quickly took his features, replacing his grief as he moved himself between the girl and I. He raised his arms defensively, his manner wary of my intentions, but this swiftly softened to a look of surprise when I drew the vial from my vest. His eyes gazed at it in shock and he did nothing to stop me as I walked past. I knelt there next to her, hand placed beneath her nose. She was still breathing. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but definitely, fortunately, still there. Tipping her chin back with one hand, I flicked open the cork with the other, pouring the contents into her mouth. Vin had written about these with great interest. The vials were health potions, a magical cure-all to even the harshest of injuries. They made the medical supplies I had brought in my bag seem almost useless. Yet if they had one flaw, it was that the healing process they commanded was not a pleasant one. Bones regrew and mended, flesh and sinew sewing itself back together. To call it painful was a gross understatement. Sometimes it hurt more to heal than to sustain the injury in the first place. But here, in this moment, we had no choice. As if to emphasize this, a stream of numbers flowed out. Green this time, healing. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. +13, +21, +16 A splutter, blood drawing from her mouth. Steam emanating from the open wounds as she writhed out in pain. Her teeth were gritted, tears trickling from eyes still shut, a sudden opening of the mouth to scream and then- She relaxed, her chest rising and falling. She was breathing, she would be fine. *** Morning came abruptly, as did the girl who barged through my door. The villagers had offered a bed amongst their homes, an offer I had declined under the pretense of wanting to further clear out the mansion. In reality I did not trust them enough to be as vulnerable as to sleep in a room they provided, even if I had rid them of the bandits. Instead I occupied the master bedroom, the one atop the manor house. The adrenaline had long since faded, in its place remained only the realisation of how exhausted I truly was. And so I emptied the room of its inhabitants, gently propping the owner against the wall of the great hall downstairs. As for its unwelcome guest, I simply threw him over the bannisters. The sheets were still stained with blood, but as soon as my head hit the pillow I was asleep. My dreams however did not go undisturbed. I was there again, back on that hill, the grass bathed in the warm glow of the morning sun. But this time, the door was no longer alone. Five figures crowded round, all clad in full armour. Their huge stature was made more imposing by the helmets which shielded their face. Behind them flowed capes of purple, adorned with intricate designs spanning the entirety of the fabric. And in the middle: a single flame, emblazoned in the shape of an eye. Inquisitors. I whirled around. Besides me lay a wolf, floating in the air much like I was. Four eyes bore the sides of his face, golden irises regarding the scene before him with a sense of bemusement. They¡¯re after you. ¡°You¡¯re-,¡± I hesitated, struggling to find the right words to say. ¡°You were in the vial. You gave me their language.¡± His eyes drifted lazily towards mine. A smirk, and then his gaze reverted back to the group below. One had knelt, their black gloves placed gently against the base of the door frame. It was clear from their hood that they were the leader, their face hidden behind an eerie visage of metal which comprised the front of their helm. I opened my mouth, questions forming upon my tongue, but before I could utter a word a cold voice interrupted me. ¡°Fifteen hours, he¡¯s near.¡± The figure stood up, rubbing the dirt between her fingers. Her companions watched her as they waited for her next remark. It soon followed. ¡°Northwards,¡± her head turned, ¡°we¡¯ll meet them soon.¡± Better wake, little pup. The wolf again, almost a purr. Time to run. *** I awoke again with a start. Shit. I had just come here, into a world I knew nothing of, and already people were after me. Shit. SHIT. I slid myself off the bed, rushing to clasp on the armour I had taken from Ansgar that morning. In contrast to my hurried demeanour, the room was warm, lit by the lazy morning glow which shone through the glass windows to the side. It was comforting, at least, as comforting as it could be with the blood still staining the floorboards. I paid it no heed, too focused on getting ready to leave, to go anywhere but here. The door slammed open behind me, and I glanced back to see a girl barge in. One of the twins, her brother right behind her. She looked far better than she had done last night, restored to a vastly healthier state. The potion had worked miracles; to call it magic was not an understatement. A fury burned in her heterochromatic eyes, one restored by the liquid in the vial. ¡°Why did you do that?¡± Her words, accusatory but firm. Her brother peeked out nervously behind, an expression more at ease than the one he had worn that morning. ¡°Do what?¡± ¡°The potion. Why did you give it to me?¡± I ignored her, fastening the buckles as best I could. I had to go, I had no time to waste. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to pay you back.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t even know you had money.¡± I ripped my coat from the chair, hastily folding it before stuffing it into my bag. If what the wolf had shown me was true, the inquisitors would find their way here soon. I had to leave. Now. I fastened a pair of leather gauntlets around my arms, steel plate reinforcing the lining at the back. Another spoil I had taken from the raiders. Like Ansgar¡¯s cuirass, it was a tad large, but the straps helped alleviate this issue. A fur cloak now hid the pouch at my waist, within which I had slid my handgun. To my belt, I had strapped a sword. A bastard variant, its hand-and-a-half weight surprisingly light in my hands. The twins watched as I dressed, a worried curiosity evident in their eyes. ¡°Are you leaving? The guys outside, they were talking about hosting a feast.¡± ¡°A feast? They still have food to spare?¡± ¡°Just uh¡­ enough. To celebrate you at least.¡± I grunted in response. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, I need to go.¡± I had scavenged what food I could, items which would not spoil easily and had not been drenched by the blood and wine smothering the manor floor. Coupled with the rations I had brought, it would be enough. ¡°Take us with you.¡± I stopped, turning my head to look at them. Two teenagers, barely even fifteen. They would be nothing but a hindrance, their eyes alone drawing attention in a crowd. As if to protest, she quickly followed up. ¡°I can fight, and he... he can read.¡± A glance at her knuckles confirmed this. They were swollen, calloused from countless punches thrown. ¡°Please.¡± Her voice broke slightly. ¡°We have nowhere else to go.¡± People were a liability, my brother¡¯s death was a testament to that. Yet doing things alone would be vastly difficult. If I wanted revenge, I would need authority. Power and influence to get close to the people responsible. And to do that I needed people. People I could trust. ¡°We¡¯ll swear it. An Oathsworn Contract.¡± She spoke before I could even form the words on my mouth, answering my question as if reading my mind. ¡°We¡¯ll vow to never harm you in any way.¡± She¡¯s right. The wolf, his voice a murmur in my mind, a rasp softened by drowsiness. Words which corresponded with my gut feeling, even if I did not know fully what the contract entailed. And yet. How could I trust it? The girl answered for him. ¡°We¡¯ve been marked.¡± Pulling back the neck of her shirt, she revealed the same symbol scorched into her flesh. ¡°If we go against our vow, we¡¯ll die.¡± Her eyes seemed to search my face, looking for any expression which might hint at what I would ask. ¡°Why?¡± Was my response. ¡°Why would you go so far for a stranger you have only just met?¡± She lowered her eyes. Her fear was more evident now, wrought from a powerlessness that had been branded onto her. ¡°You¡­ saved me. Without wanting anything in return. Few people would do that.¡± She glanced at her brother, her gaze softening for a moment. ¡°You gave us another chance. And we-¡± A slight quiver, subtle but there. ¡°We have no one else.¡± Her eyes turned to look at me once more. ¡°We need you.¡± I pondered her words. It would make my task ahead much easier to have company. To have two besides me, who could not betray me even if they wanted to. Two that had grown up and lived in this world, even if as slaves. They searched my face for an answer, both gazes firm and defiant, but behind I could see a hint of pleading. Fuck. I looked away. ¡°The nearest city. Grab what you need, we¡¯re leaving.¡± ¡°Northgaard.¡± Her brother had rushed past, not even hiding the eagerness which lit up his face. ¡°We¡¯ll go there.¡± Chapter 7 - A Quiet Arrival [Chapter 7 - A Quiet Arrival] Northgaard. It lay there before me, a cluster of grey and blue amidst a field of spruce and snow. A welcome sight, one that offered much needed relief to my exhausted condition. I heard a clatter sound behind me and I turned to see Ante fall backwards to the floor, resting against his bag as his tired panting skewed into a sheepish grin. Roxas soon followed suit, stopping to catch her breath as she rounded the corner, an awkward smile plastered across her face in a manner similar to her twin brother¡¯s. ¡°So,¡± his words were barely discernible, cut short by frantic gasps for air, ¡°finally here.¡± ¡°Finally here,¡± I confirmed. His relief was obvious but I did not blame him. We had travelled for several days, weighed down by backpacks filled with equipment that the villagers had refused. Equipment we had taken from the bandits, some of which we ourselves now wore. ¡°If you make us do this again I swear to god.¡± Roxas this time, words expressed between winded breaths. Bemusement curled the corners of my lips. Compared to when I had first met them, the twins had become a lot more at ease. My behaviour towards them likely helped; I had no interest in treating them as slaves after all, no matter how this world regarded them to be. At first they were hesitant, wary of my intentions despite the events at the manor. My insistence however quickly reassured them. We left the village with as much armour and weaponry as we could take, piling them into the backpacks which now sat upon our shoulders. Not only was this to be sold when we finally arrived at Northgaard, but it also served as a means to help build up the twins¡¯ stamina. Carrying your own supplies in this way was standard military practice, and an exercise I was unfortunately all too familiar with. Not that it had been any easier for me this time either. Twelve kilograms of steel in the shape of a metal cuirass sat upon my chest, serving to only worsen the already heavy plate carrier I had hidden beneath. I was lucky Ansgar had been of a larger build; slotting ceramic plate beneath fitted armour was not an easy task. The vest remained one of the few things I still had from my world beyond the door. Everything else now lay buried in the manor grounds, submerged beneath several feet of dirt. A precaution I had taken, as the inquisitors had known I had come through the door. They would be searching for anyone who stood out and I was bearing enough of a risk already still holding on to my vest and the weaponry hidden beneath my fur cloak. The diary too was a liability, but I could not bring myself to part ways with any of them. And so they remained¡­ with me. My gaze wandered upwards, resting upon the mark which sat below Ante¡¯s neck. The padded vest he wore covered it for the most part, but the serif of the ¡°I¡± still peeked out from above his collarbone. An ¡°I¡± which had scorched itself upon him, charring his skin in a harsh tally. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen it before?¡± Roxas had caught my look. ¡°I¡¯m surprised. Must¡¯ve been nice living away from slavery.¡± She tapped her own mark, hidden beneath her leather pauldron. ¡°It brands us for life. Not even magic can get rid of it.¡± ¡°Does it stay like that? Forever?¡± A nod answered my question. It had glowed as the twins swore their oath, the ¡°I¡± searing itself onto their skin as they winced in pain. With this accompanied the smell of burning flesh, and when it was done the scar lay there, an ominous reminder of their vow. How that was possible, I was not so sure. ¡°Magic¡± was Ante¡¯s answer, explained in a matter-of-fact way. An easy explanation, one quickly abused for all things unknown to the natural laws of my world. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Things such as the wolf which had sounded in my head, and had given to me with it comprehension of the Northgaardian language. I had tried to inquire the wolf further, to ask about the inquisitors and the reason for their pursuit. I received no response, only silence. And so I had ventured on, lost in thought until I turned the corner, the trees in front parting to unveil the city of Northgaard before me. A city whose sight rendered me speechless. Despite what Vin had written, seeing it in person was a wholly different experience. There was nothing comparable to it back on Earth. At its base sat thick walls of stone brick, cradling the city in its arms. It ran semicircular, a path broken only by the towers embedded at intervals amongst the stonework. The buildings of the city itself rose up in a steep ascent, climbing higher and higher as their shingled roofs shimmered beneath the autumn sunlight. At its peak stood a solitary fortress, an intimidating structure of dense construction. From its turrets draped two banners of blue, trailing lazily in the afternoon wind. Banners, upon which bore a single armoured figure, holding aloft in her hands a torch and shield, set in the middle of a laurel wreath. What was most striking however was not the city itself, but the wall against which the entire capital leant on. A colossal structure spanning the entire mountain pass, it towered over the city with neither its height nor width exceeded even by the fortress capping the entire metropolis. It was a blank slate of grey, cleanly dividing the scenery before me. ¡°Northgaard.¡± There was no disguising the excitement glinting in Ante¡¯s eyes. ¡°We¡¯ve finally reached the capital of the Border Kingdoms.¡± ¡°Except it''s now ruled by the Atreian Republic,¡± Roxas pointed out, gesturing to the banners flowing in the sky, ¡°as are the rest of the kingdoms.¡± To call it imposing was an understatement, a fact all too clear to me as it loomed overhead. I could not help but marvel at its enormity, at the gargantuan slabs stacked upon one another, framed between pillars of thick timber, but of a tree so huge even sequoia was insufficient. The guards manning the gates however appeared wholly unimpressed. One stepped up, a single hand raised to halt me as he held his spear in the other. ¡°Identification.¡± A bored voice. It was not a request, nor was it something I could comply with. A handful of silver and copper coins were exchanged in its stead; money I had taken from the raiders. Along with it, I gave him a name. ¡°Enkrid,¡± I answered, ¡°Enkrid Ishmaea.¡± ¡°Tsk, another foreigner.¡± He did not even try to hide his disgust. Roxas and Ante both raised an eyebrow at my words. ¡°Not the name you told us,¡± Roxas smirked. The guard glanced at her in response, his look focused upon her eyes. ¡°Fucking freaks.¡± he muttered. Roxas tried to show no reaction, but her expression wavered for a brief moment. I clenched my hand in anger. It would be of no good to cause any commotion here, but that still did not alleviate the sting of the insult. The guard grumbled as he headed back into the gate house, returning shortly with a dense folder of paperwork in his arms. He handed me a slip of yellowed paper, upon which he had scrawled the same name. Below it lay a seal of red wax, stamped with the portraiture of a crowned figure. A visitor¡¯s pass. ¡°You¡¯ve got one month.¡± His distaste was evident. ¡°If you don¡¯t have identification by then, fuck off.¡± And then it was done. He waved us in, already dismissing us as he walked to the next in queue. The moment I passed through the inner doors, my ears were barraged by the shouts of people. The bustle of commerce, and with it the cries of daily life, ringing through the air without pause. ¡°Finest pieces out here! More insi-¡± ¡°-best silver in all of Northgaard, on sale now-¡± ¡°-lord¡¯s recruiting again, not surprising given the inciden-¡± ¡°-ardian cabbage, fresh from outside the city!¡± It all blurred into one, a comforting ambience of everyday troubles. I had not felt the same peaceful atmosphere since I had left Earth. What had been only a few days ago now felt almost an eternity away. ¡°Where to now?¡± Ante looked to me for direction, both twins following close beside to avoid getting lost in the heavy crowds. Their tiredness had subdued their curiosity by a little, but it was nonetheless clear that the three of us were still exhausted by the journey. I looked upwards in response. The sun was setting, rays of orange gently smothering the buildings beneath a soft warm hue. Already the shopkeepers were lighting the sconces by their doors, readying the city for night. ¡°An inn,¡± was my answer, ¡°we need rest.¡± It did not take long to find the sign I was after. It swayed suspended in the wind, a simple wooden board hanging from one of the main street buildings. Upon its weathered wood, a faded flame had been inscribed, captioned with a name stamped out above it. Although the characters were not Latin, I understood its meaning nonetheless. The Frozen Hearth Hall. A tavern located on the main street, exactly what I was after. Surrounding myself with people was the best way to avoid drawing attention after all. As soon as I closed the door behind me, the outside world seemed to subdue. The noise from the streets faded into a muffled hum, replaced by the crackling of the fireplace which dominated the centre of the hall. Amongst this intermingled the sound of strings, strummed by a bard who lay seated in the far side corner. The soft tune lulled the air into a sleepy ambience, made drowsier by the smell of food emanating from the kitchen. Food the twins quickly devoured. For my first proper meal in this other world, it was surprising how ordinary it was. A simple beef stew lay warm in a wooden bowl before me. Whilst not exactly unfamiliar, I was still glad for its soothing of the tiredness weighing upon my body. As for the inn itself, it was quite spacious, a contrast to how it had appeared from the outside. The mezzanine occupying the second floor had helped it to that effect, circling around the smoke which gently wafted through the smoke hole in the ceiling. It was on this landing our room was located, one both the twins and myself were eager to find. ¡°A bed each?¡± Ante had exclaimed, excitement clearly expressed in his joyous grin. Roxas too could not hide a smile as she fell back against hers. Soon the pair were fast asleep, snoring away as they lay sprawled across their beds. I sat against the open window for a brief while longer, watching the world pass me by on the main street below. My first peaceful night of rest in this other world. It was quiet, comforting almost. A world bathed in the light of its two moons. My dreams however, were much less kind. Chapter 8 - Hunters Closing [Chapter 8 - Hunters Closing] I was in the air again. Only this time, the scenery had changed. I was no longer by the door, but instead stood above the forest clearing, surrounded by the bodies of the fallen soldiers. I whirled around, a torrent of questions forming upon my lips. But the wolf was no longer there. I was by myself, floating in the open air, warmed by the glow of the midday sun. And the commotion of metal and people sounded around me. Light glinted off their armour as throngs of soldiers made their way through the trees. They picked up the dead with a gentle care, placing their bodies onto equally ornate litters. Unlike their fallen counterparts, it was clear they were of a lower rank; their armour much more standardized and many not quite fitting their wearers. Atreian foot soldiers. Legionaries. Evident from the blue of their fabrics. Yet the people they comprised were fascinatingly diverse. Not only could a broad range of skin tones be discerned, but some were not human at all. Amongst the men and dwarves, the faces of bears and lizards could be made out beneath the iron helmets they all bore. Some even had horns, jagged spirals of bone protruding out from foreheads of living metal. Their sight drove home how different the world I had come to really was; to see such distinctive anthropomorphic beings, ones I had only read about in the diary of my brother, very much alive and breathing in this other reality. Regardless of their differences, the soldiers were unified not only by their legion armour, but also by the man who stood at their centre. He had his back turned towards me, but even then his authority was clear. The red cape flowing from his shoulders attested towards it, as did the laurel wreath sitting atop his head, a stark contrast to the aged white hair which lay beneath. He relayed his commands through the gesturing of his outstretched hand, barking out orders that the soldiers obeyed without question. My attention however was drawn instead to the scene below me. There, on the ground, lay the same motionless body of the soldier in silver and gold. Nemetus. Except he was no longer by himself. The inquisitors stood by his side, his necklace outstretched from his throat. In the open palm of their leader lay the vial, its smashed glass indicating no trace of the black liquid which had occupied it previously. She searched it with an enigmatic gaze, her expression hidden beneath the metal mask shrouding her face. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°It¡¯s gone.¡± Her words wrought a heavy tension in the air, lingering for a brief second before it was disturbed by one of her companions. ¡°Why didn¡¯t they use something sturdier?¡± A man¡¯s voice. Gruff, matching the broad build that was accentuated by his crossed arms. On his back lay a long Zweih?nder, its huge size made small by the bulk of his giant stature. ¡°Who the fuck stores something like that in glass?¡± ¡°You fool.¡± Another companion. A head shorter but equally as armoured, her voice snapping back at his remark. ¡°That¡¯s Silversong-infused glass. It doesn¡¯t just break.¡± ¡°Glass is glass.¡± He shrugged bluntly. ¡°Glass breaks.¡± ¡°If there¡¯s no light he would awake.¡± Their leader again. She seemed to care not for their bickering, her gaze unmoving from the glass in her hand. ¡°They had to use glass to keep him from the dark.¡± Him. So the liquid was living, and they knew it to be so. It was not hard for me to recognise that the wolf had stemmed from this vial. No matter what he may truly be. The man snorted in response. ¡°It¡¯s beneath his shirt for fuck¡¯s sake. It¡¯s as dark as it can get.¡± She ignored him, twirling the shards between her fingers. ¡°The Solari didn¡¯t take it. They wouldn''t have smashed the glass otherwise. Nor could any of them act as a catalyst.¡± ¡°So where is it?¡± Her hand was pressed against the dirt once more, her fingers slowly trailing back first from Nemetus¡¯ body, and then to her side. She seemed to see something I could not, and it guided her arm further, her gaze moving upwards along with it towards the treeline of the forest opposite. The same treeline I had run to, in chase of Ansgar and Kallas. ¡°A third party, they came through here.¡± ¡°The Outworlder from the gate?¡± His voice had lost its snarky tone, replaced now by a cold and obvious malice. ¡°The very same.¡± She stood up, her stare unmoving as she rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. Looking closer, I could just about make out the occasional boot marks embossed within the churned dirt of the battlefield. Its shape was distinct, an unmistakable pattern trailing amongst the caligae and sabaton footsteps pressed down by the combatants, stumbling at first from the soldier to the tree, and then downwards across the hill in a rushed pursuit. I cursed at the sight, a swear unheard by the figures in my dream. The marks were faint, but upon closer inspection they would only serve to confirm the inquisitor¡¯s suspicions. ¡°Are you guys done?¡± A new voice, one from behind me. I spun round to see the commander ascending the hill to join them. His face betrayed his experience, bearing the countenance of a veteran soldier. The scar cutting across his left eye made that very clear, tracing its way down from his forehead to the top of his white beard. He cast a sad look towards Nemetus, a familiarity apparent in his eyes. ¡°Consul,¡± the leader nodded. I could hear the respect she held in her voice, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for your loss.¡± He remained silent, casting a forlorn smile and a soft wave as he nodded back. She continued nonetheless, ¡°We¡¯ve found the vial but the subject¡¯s been taken. We¡¯re heading south to follow.¡± ¡°This is where we part ways then.¡± His words were calm, betraying nothing as to his thoughts on the loss. He gestured behind him, to the litters filled with the bodies of the Atreian dead. ¡°We will be returning to Northgaard. We must see to it that they are given a proper burial for their service.¡± ¡°And so shall it be done.¡± With that she turned, handing the shattered remnants to the giant by her side. Without another word, the inquisitors began their way towards the treeline, armoured boots crunching through the swaying grass. I breathed out a sigh of relief. The village was still several day¡¯s march away. If they were to go there first, it would at least give me some respite to figure out how exactly I could hide myself from them. Especially if the inquisitor knew some manner of magic which directed her to me. The commander turned as well, heading down towards the soldiers readying the litters for the long march. As he did so, a legionary ran up, sweat beading down his face in an obvious indication of haste. ¡°My lord!¡± He threw a salute, his actions hurried but still proper. ¡°A report from the village in the southwest! There were no signs of any Solari, but the place had been overrun by bandits.¡± I felt a sense of foreboding, already fearing what he would say next. The consul did not seem to share the same sentiment, groaning as he contemplated the information relayed to him. ¡°Bandits?¡± he sighed. His annoyance was clear. ¡°As if we don¡¯t have enough problems to deal with already.¡± ¡°It has already been dealt with, my lord. A man took care of them before heading northwards!¡± My heart dropped. Slowly, I turned my head to look, and sure enough the inquisitors had stopped. They made no movements, but it was clear they were listening in with great interest. The old man on the other hand raised an eyebrow, oblivious to the group behind him. ¡°A whole bandit party dealt with by a single man? Even if they¡¯re not that organised, that''s still an impressive feat.¡± ¡°Yes my lord. The villagers said he was dressed in black, some sort of foreign clothing neither Atreian or Solarian. He left a few days ago, heading towards Northgaard.¡± ¡°What luck, consul.¡± My stomach twisted. The inquisitors had now joined them, a bemusement obvious in their leader¡¯s voice. ¡°It seems we¡¯ll be going the same way after all.¡± Chapter 9 - Betrayer [Chapter 9 - Betrayer] Fanfare heralded his arrival. I was sat by the window when it sounded, having woken only half an hour earlier from that turbulent dream. Despite the late morning chill, the city was alive with the chatter of people and traffic. Wagons crowded the main street, escorting cargo in and out of the city walls while the thudding of horseshoes on cobblestone accompanied each and every one. All this layered over a percussive din of hammers on metal, ringing from numerous buildings I could only assume were blacksmiths. The twins on the other hand snored on obliviously. They seemed almost dead to the world, a state disturbed only by the blaring of trumpets which jolted them awake. ¡°What the fuck.¡± Roxas startled, her bewilderment swiftly transitioning into an annoyed scowl. ¡°Hnnnnn.¡± Ante was less comprehensible, his half-asleep eyes drifting towards the open window beside me. I hid a smile as I gazed out at the city gate. The guards were now yelling, gesturing frantically as they scurried around in an obvious hurry. The traffic and people shifted quickly too, many of the latter making space for the former as they trundled onto the pavement. Soon enough, the city doors were pulled inwards with a groaning of the hinge, accompanied by the rustling of metal as the portcullises were brought to their full height. And the procession followed immediately after. Rows upon rows of romanic soldiers, all bearing a spear and shield, marched down the main street in two double-filed columns. Between them lay the litters, cradling the bodies of the Atreian elite, each one hoisted aloft by a group of unarmed legionaries. The dead rested against beds of flowers, their swords and shields placed upon their chest in an arrangement of respect. And at the corner of each litter stood banners of blue. Amongst these marched soldiers sporting an array of trumpets. The straighter instruments bellowed out a raucous sound, laying a base for which their curved trumpet counterparts layered over. It was a fascinating sight, the army marching down together in unison to the rhythmic tune of brass, watched by the people who crowded the pavements to their sides. At their head however, led the old man from my dream. His face bore the same solemn sadness it had worn upon his sighting of Nemetus, softening his tired features as he sat atop his horse. ¡°Who is he?¡± I directed my question to the twins, now standing by the window with me. All traces of sleep were gone from their face, their drowsiness replaced by rapt attention at the sight. ¡°The lord of Northgaard.¡± Roxas replied. ¡°Warden of Highrock, Breaker of the Norn Tribes.¡± Consul Italus Provenius. The voice interrupted her, sounding again in that same unnerving rasp. Betrayer of your brother. *** ¡°Eight sets of Atreiian armour, eleven steel swords, three iron shields and four bows¡±. The woman shuffled through the equipment as she spoke, moving them across her counter as she laid them out. ¡°The rest of this is junk.¡± I glanced at the plate she had placed before me. Embossed upon gold were the letters ¡°XXXVI¡±. A tally, one that had been engraved next to her ¡°Smithing¡± category. [Level 36] If I was to compare it to the standards of my world, a mark of thirty indicated the proficiency of a working professional. Above fifty made them an expert of their craft, whilst anything over eighty placed them as a master. Exceeding a hundred was almost unheard of; there had been few people in all of Arithean history who had reached such an achievement. All had been members of a hero¡¯s party. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Parties, such as my brother¡¯s. It was fortunate however that Northgaard was a city rife with blacksmiths and armourers. That likely owed itself to the purpose behind the city¡¯s construction in the first place. ¡°The Wall Atlea mountains stretch across this entire continent.¡± Ante had said, his words muffled by the food he had stuffed into his mouth. ¡°They¡¯re like a roof at the top of the world.¡± He indicated to the map he had brought, one I had requested he find for me. Near the top spanned a ridge of mountains, covering the length of the entire map. ¡°And beyond them are wild lands.¡± Roxas had joined in, gesturing to the drastically less populated area above. ¡°They¡¯re an¡­ unexplored frontier. Home to monsters.¡± Her words hung heavy in the air, and she paused for a moment before continuing, ¡°We¡¯re lucky the mountains kill anything that tries to cross them.¡± I looked back at the mountain range, its peaks stretching across the browned paper in a strangely orthodox manner. Across its entire length there was only one gap, only a single pass across the whole continent which enabled safe travel through. The very same pass that Northgaard occupied. The city was therefore both a gateway, and a dam. ¡°Mercenaries and adventurers come here seeking fame.¡± Roxas carried on, ¡°Soldiers too, either assigned here as watch ¡®cause of military service, or as scouts for some noble¡¯s political ambition.¡± These occupations demanded arms and armour, and with them came blacksmiths in search of profit. ¡°You¡¯re lucky the republic is in dire times right now.¡± The blacksmith had stopped rummaging from beneath her counter, sitting up to now glower at me with a stern gaze as she gestured at the equipment I had brought in. ¡°Most of this is legion property. Old models. If it weren¡¯t for the war, not only would it not sell but they¡¯d have your head.¡± The suspicion in her eyes was clear, her gaze searching my face for any sign of a reaction. ¡°Especially if its seller didn¡¯t even have identification.¡± She let the impact of those words hang for a moment longer, her gaze focused upon my face, and then she sighed and waved it away. ¡°But Atreia needs metal desperately, and I¡¯m sure I can melt it down.¡± She reached down and pulled a large pouch onto the table, the metal inside thudding as it hit the wood. ¡°Eight hundred Atreii. That¡¯s the best I can do.¡± And with that it was sold. Every single thing we had painstakingly brought from that village, all those miles ago. The wolf¡¯s voice played in my head again as I left the store behind me. Not the best price for it. He murmured smugly. Not that I had much of a choice. I snapped back. I¡¯m glad it even sold. As I made my way back through the blacksmiths quarter, I pondered my options in my mind once more. The piercing clash of hammers on steel did little to distract me, I was too lost in thought to pay it any heed. Despite our complaints, eight hundred Atreii was still a much better price than what I had expected, and that at least resolved most of our immediate financial concerns. Identification, however, was a much larger issue. Not only would it allow for continued residence in the city, but it would also help throw the inquisitors off my trail. And now that Italus had arrived, it was an even more pressing matter that needed to be urgently addressed. With him, it no doubt meant that the inquisitors were here as well, scrounging the city for any sign of myself and the contents of that vial which had absorbed itself into me. It was therefore only a matter of time before our paths crossed, and I doubted that it would spell any good for us to meet. These same thoughts weighed heavy on my mind even as I sat at the table of the inn that evening. The twins seemed unbothered, eagerly devouring their food without a care in the world. With the inquisitors in Northgaard, I would not stay hidden in this inn for much longer. While my change of clothes prevented me from being spotted immediately in a crowd, it would do little to stop the tracking magic they used to trace the vial back to my possession. And if I did not have any identification to show them¡­ My brows furrowed at the thought. I did not fancy my chances against five heavily armoured inquisitors, especially if I was to take the twins¡¯ safety into account. I looked up at them at the thought, the two still eating excitedly away, oblivious to the pursuers who grew nearer every second. While I had been hesitant to accept their company, I found myself now thankful for their presence. They had grown on me, and they had made my life here in this other world that much more comfortable, putting me at an ease I had not expected myself to experience again. But that, however, made my choice now all the more difficult. My fingers strummed the counter as I formulated the plan in my mind. I ran the steps through in my head once again. The republic lacked soldiers. Italus¡¯ elites now lay dead in a Solarii ambush, to be buried sooner rather than later. And I needed identification, any form of employment which would take myself and the twins in, and could vouch for my identity against the questioning of the inquisitors. The words of the table nearby confirmed my thoughts. ¡°The incident at Silvermine. Are they really sending out another expedition?¡± ¡°They have no choice, that place is a literal goldmine.¡± ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake. Hope they throw some recruits at it than expect us to deal with that shit.¡± Three Atreiian soldiers, hunched over the table to our side. They did little to muffle their words, conversing without a care amongst the incessant chatter in the background. The armour they still wore suggested that they had come here with the procession, and what they said only convinced me further of the plan I had considered. I turned my attention back to the twins, my question lingering at the tip of my tongue. Hesitation paused me. I knew they were bound to me by oath, but I would not force them to join me if they did not want to. To go by myself was one thing, but to bring children with me would be sickening to even consider back in my world. But here I had no choice. And here I was no longer in my world. ¡°The legion. I will join the legion.¡± The twins looked up as I spoke, Ante¡¯s eyes widening at my words while his sister glowered but said nothing. ¡°You want us to enlist with you?¡± ¡°We need identity documents. Northgaard will not keep us otherwise.¡± I said nothing of the inquisitors nor did I make any mention of my goal. We had only been together for a few days, and despite their oath, I was not certain as to their reaction if I was to reveal either right now. Still I watched the twins as I spoke, cautious of their reactions to what I was about to say. ¡°It is your choice. Just like following me has always been your choice. You do not have to come with me, but I must join the legion.¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Roxas snarled, ¡°just like we told you before.¡± Ante swung his head back-and-forth between us, a look of panic evident on his face as he flailed his arms in an awkward attempt to calm the tension. Roxas glared at me for a moment longer, before sighing a resigned sight. ¡°But you¡¯re right, the legion gives us the best chance. Especially for the branded.¡± She looked up at me again, a coldness evident in her gaze. ¡°But make sure you protect us.¡± Hmmmm. The wolf smirked. I paid it no attention, my gaze focused on the twins, mustering my next words with as much sincerity as I could. ¡°I swear it.¡± [Act 1] Chapter 10 - Enlistment [Act 1] [Chapter 10 - Enlistment] ¡°How old are you?¡± ¡°Seventeen sir¡± The officer raised an eyebrow, looking Ante over once more. He was shivering in the cold but still he stood to his full height, trying best he could to take up as much space as possible. Like everyone else behind him Ante wore nothing but the loincloth wrapped around his waist, forming a pair of shorts which offered little in terms of warmth. On his now bare chest his brand was much more prominent, a feature that the officer eyed cautiously. ¡°A slave huh?¡± He looked back down, scribbling notes onto the papyrus laid out in front. ¡°Yes sir.¡± ¡°And the man behind is your owner?¡± ¡°Yes sir.¡± He sighed, and then gestured to his colleagues who stood by his side. The pair walked up, pressing Ante¡¯s body with their hands as they began their physical examination. He was careful not to flinch but his unease was clear. No doubt he had went through the same as a slave. The wolf said off-handedly. A fact I too had not forgotten. First they held his jaw and skull, testing the firmness beneath their fingers, moving down afterwards towards the shoulders, legs and arms. Then they spread out his eyelids, staring into pupils which darted nervously around in response. A metal tool was used to hold down his tongue as they looked into his mouth, quickly checking his ears after they were done. They circled around him, gently thumping his back with one hand while the other was held steady against his spine. Satisfied with their inspection, they returned to the officer once more, nodding their approval as they walked back. The man looked down at the words laid out before him, his indecision clear from his furrowed brows and tapping of pen. ¡°Normally you¡¯d go in with the auxiliaries but¡­¡± He trailed off as his colleague interrupted him, stepping up from where she had stood in order to whisper into his ear. As she did so, he threw a quick glance at the queue before him. It stretched out to the entrance of the barracks, snaking its way around the training grounds in order to fully contain everyone who had arrived. Although quite a crowd had gathered, he still sighed another resigned breath. ¡°We¡¯re well below quota and you¡¯re enough to qualify. As long as your owner and fellow slave pass, you¡¯re welcome in the legion.¡± And with that he dismissed Ante to the side, beckoning me to step up in his place. It was fortunate that recruitment had spanned several days. I had come yesterday to observe the process, and while I kept my distance it was not exactly hard to notice the half-naked soldiers-to-be lining up before the Atreian officials. And so while I now stood there in the same cloth arrangement I had hastily bought, the soldiers did not find the vest or the weapons I had brought into this world. Instead they lay hidden, left by themselves in my backpack back at the inn. Standing here now, with nothing but my loincloth, I looked the same as any of the other citizens lining up behind me. That was, save for my black hair which marked me out to be a foreigner. Fortunately that in itself was not particularly conspicuous. Foreigners in Northgaard were extremely common after all, a fact reflected in the diversity of the queue itself. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. The same array of humans and non-humans stood with varying degrees of patience, while among the legionnaires standing watch over them I could make out several faces of bears and reptiles. It seemed that for the legion, it was a rule to review anyone regardless of their race. And of their gender. Roxas shivered behind me, her teeth chattering as she crossed her arms for warmth. Like the other women who had come, she had wrapped a strophium breast-cloth around herself in addition to the shorts the rest of us wore. That too however, did little to hide the mark scorched onto her skin. ¡°Enkrid.¡± The officer looked up, reading my name aloud from the visitor¡¯s pass I had handed him. My examination was shorter. A quick glance after all made it clear that I was in good shape; it was one of the few benefits I had from being in active duty for most of my life. I found myself soon joining Ante to the side, followed by Roxas who accompanied us shortly after. It was obvious neither twin were the age they had declared themselves to be, yet the officers had allowed them to pass without much concern. Whether it was because they were short-staffed, or that they simply did not care, I was not so sure, but soon the three of us were taken to one of the legion tents to the side. A soldier in full armour marched us along, stopping us by the canopy which had been propped up against the barrack walls. Against the linen rested rectangular Atreian shields, its blue paint matching the banners which hung loose from wooden poles. There was no armoured woman on its fabric. Instead, it boasted the emblem of a snarling wolf, above which emblazoned the words: ¡°LEG ? XCVI¡±. As if matching it, a caption in the same font was sewed beneath, spelling out the letters: ¡°ITALVS¡±. A tired looking man sat out in front, pulling out a scroll from the box to his side once we stopped before him. He unveiled the papyrus, quickly scanning its contents before he spoke. ¡°Proof of age and verification of identity.¡± he scoffed. He glanced at the three of us, looking us one over before rolling the papyrus back up. ¡°You look old enough to fight, and you¡¯d be insane to join the frontier anyway.¡± We kept silent, but he did not seem to care. He scrawled down a few words to the scroll by his side, glancing at my visitor¡¯s pass which the guard had stepped forwards to give him. Although it was hard to see, I made out a few words before he waved us away. Enkrid¡­ black hair¡­ slaves¡­ blue/red heterochromia¡­ Names and features. They must have been recorded for identification purposes, registering us into the log of soldiers for the republic. It was almost impressive how studious they were in their administration, despite their appearance and their indifferent attitudes. We were brought away once again, led to the side where a group of other recruits milled around aimlessly. ¡°Wait here.¡± was what we were told, spoken by the guard who quickly left to join his colleagues that stood watch over us at the ground¡¯s perimeters. ¡°Think we¡¯ve passed?¡± Ante asked anxiously. Roxas shot him a puzzled look. ¡°Isn¡¯t that what the guy up front said?¡± I nodded in response. ¡°They wrote our names down. I doubt they¡¯d turn us away.¡± Ante looked away, his face relieved in contrast to his continued trembling. ¡°Wish they¡¯d give us our clothes back at least.¡± I smiled gently, and found myself ruffling his hair softly in an attempt to comfort him. We waited for a while longer, our restless group growing more and more as time went on. Few recruits were dismissed, the majority of the people who had volunteered came to join us. Those that were refused were people who were obviously unfit, some missing limbs while others gaunt from malnutrition. Soon, the only ones who remained were the people who had passed; a large group of humans and non-humans all shivering in the autumn cold. ¡°Attention!¡± the soldier¡¯s cry rang out, piercing the idle chatter that had taken the approved recruits. We all turned to look at him, and the armoured legionary stood upright with spear and shield in hand. The recruiting officer who had reviewed us at the start was now beside him, flanked by all the guards who stood up straight on either side. ¡°Salute!¡± the soldier barked out. It was met by the thudding of fist against chest as the recruits all complied. As they did so they fell to one knee, holding their heads level in an unwavering stance despite shivering only moments earlier. I quickly followed their example, my confusion at the sudden commotion swiftly transitioning to anger as I saw the reason for it. An old man walked up to the centre, each step decisive and resolute. He bore the same full set of armour he had worn at the head of that procession, the red sagum draped lazily around his neck and falling to his side. By his waist fastened a shortsword, but other than that he was unarmed. And on his head, lay the laurel wreath. He had clearly put it on for the ceremony, as a display of his prestige. Not that it was needed. It seemed that everyone in attendance knew who he was. Italus. Consul of Atreia, and lord of this city. ¡°Welcome, recruits.¡± his smile curled his eyes, ignoring the scar which cut down across one. Despite it, I could feel my nails digging into my palm as my fist clenched in fury. The urge to run up and cut him down right there and then gripped every muscle, I had to physically hold myself back to resist its urge. Do it. The wolf goaded me on. I¡¯ll help you. I¡¯ll give you the power to kill him. You want me to die. I retorted. I¡¯ll kill him soon enough, but now is impossible. Despite his age, he was still in good shape; a giant of a man towering amongst the soldiers with his broad stature. Regardless of what he had done, he had still been a member of the hero¡¯s party, fighting alongside my brother throughout his long quest. To challenge him here would lead to my instant death. And to call him a demigod would not be an exaggeration. The recruiting officer walked forwards, pulling out a scroll which he quickly unveiled. ¡°Swear that you shall faithfully execute all that the republic commands!¡± ¡°I swear it!¡± a chorus of voices roared back in unison. ¡°Swear that you shall not desert service, and that you shall not seek to avoid death for the Atreian republic!¡± ¡°I swear it!¡± ¡°Swear that you shall follow Italus, serving him loyally as his soldiers!¡± ¡°I swear it!¡± my hand clenched tighter, but I would not draw attention by keeping silent out of simple spite. The officer rolled his scroll back up, holding it closed between his hands. ¡°From now on you are all members of the legion! I wish you glory and honour for the republic!¡± ¡°Glory and honour!¡± And with that, the oath was sworn. And then the ranking began. Chapter 11 - Ranking [Chapter 11 - Ranking] They pulled out an orb, an unassuming ball of blue that now rested in the hands of a soldier. He set it down on the table with a cautious delicacy, laying its glass against the gold stand that had been prepared for it earlier. ¡°A Pythian Eye,¡± Ante breathed. ¡°I can¡¯t believe they brought one here.¡± ¡°How else would they rank us?¡± Roxas said, although she too eyed it with an obvious curiosity. Its appearance brought out an unease amongst the recruits, one that was evidenced by the apprehensive murmuring which rippled through the crowd. But as they did so, another legionary stepped forth. He held open a large wooden box which he placed down beside the Eye. Nestled within lay numerous plates of gold, cut into identical sets of rectangular cards. These had been stacked neatly atop one another, and each appeared much alike the card that the blacksmith had placed before me. The same card which had displayed her stats and her identification. We were called up one by one. The first to step forwards was a bulky man, sporting hair of coarse brown which extended down to his beard. He stopped in front of the table, a gold card laid out before him by one of the soldiers to his side. ¡°Hand on the Eye, recruit.¡± the officer instructed. He complied, reaching out to rest his palm on the glass. As he did so the orb exploded, light erupting out before coalescing into clouds of blue. The crowd gasped, and even I could not hold back my surprise. They swirled around him, forming translucent trails which floated lazily around. Within them I could make out the twinkling of what almost seemed to be stars, clustering into numerous constellations which encircled the man. I threw a quick glance at Italus. He stood composed, joined by the other officers who all bore similar expressionless faces. Although it was expected considering how many ceremonies they must have witnessed, to think that such a spectacle was the norm fascinated me. I did not even want to compare it to my own military entrance ceremony back on Earth. That thought was accompanied by a slight snicker in my mind. Slowly the light that had manifested began gathering around the plate, inscribing words and numbers which glowed upon the metal. The card floated in turn, a gradual ascent which lifted it off the table. But then it was done and the light dissipated as the tablet lowered itself back down. Another soldier hurried to the side, bowing in respect before reaching out his hands. Italus took off his ring, its gold glinting in the light as he placed it in the legionary¡¯s outstretched palms. Soon it was passed to the recruitment officer, who pulled out a block of wax to match. It melted upon contact with the plate, the officer waited for a short second before pressing down the signet ring he had been given. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. And with that it was sealed, handed to the legionary on his left who paired it with a small leather pouch. To his right however, he was given an iron rod. One from which even this distance I could tell what it was. ¡°The Atreians and their fucking branding.¡± Roxas muttered under her breath. The officer held out his hand and the recruit placed his own on top. A few words were said, ones which I could not hear, and then the end of the rod lit up with an orange warmth. ¡°Torigg Gundarovin!¡± the officer declared, ¡°By presentation of your viaticum and signaculum, along with the marking of the stigma, I announce you member of the ninety-sixth legion!¡± And he pressed the iron into the back of the man¡¯s hand. Torigg said nothing, but a grimace took his face. The smell of burnt flesh occurred once again, a scent I had become way too familiar with since my arrival in this world. Beside me Ante had lost his colour, rendering his fear all too clear. Roxas kept quiet but she scowled at the sight. Soon the rod was taken away and the man lowered his marked hand. It hung limp to his side, a redness discolouring his arm. The officer glanced at the card, its once blank metal now etched with Torigg¡¯s identity. ¡°As ordained by Pythos,¡± the officer exclaimed, ¡°and in accordance with your own efforts, I declare you [Iron Rank, Third Class]!¡± A roar broke the unnerved silence, a cacophony of cheer and enthused celebration which bellowed out from the assembled recruits. I lowered my head, whispering to Ante, ¡°Is that good?¡± In contrast to the atmosphere around me, Torigg¡¯s title seemed wholly underwhelming. Ante regarded me with a puzzled look. ¡°Isn¡¯t the system standardized?¡± And then he shrugged, dismissing the thought. ¡°Iron is expected for veteran soldiers. High [Copper] is minimum, while low [Copper]s are filtered out by the initial inspections anyway. The rankings are used to put people into the right centuriae - groups of 100.¡± He caught my confused look. ¡°They¡¯re divided by ranks but people who join in parties normally stay together.¡± He glanced at me once over. ¡°Third class means he¡¯s higher than most, and judging from how you dealt with the bandits I¡¯d say you¡¯re probably a bit higher, but Pythos would be a better judge.¡± I turned my gaze to the orb. The light it radiated now remained caged within glass, the same trails of blue swirling around in a nonchalant manner. The officer nodded to the legionary, who stepped up to offer the card and pouch to Torigg. He accepted with a nod, before turning to head towards the other side of the grounds. ¡°Erren Titan-Born!¡± And the next recruit was summoned. It took some time before it was my turn, and when my name was announced I stepped up. I could feel each of my muscles screaming at me to leave but still I pressed on. The unranked crowd was now thinned, but I could feel the gaze of all in the training grounds regardless. And despite my curiosity, I dared not risk a glance to see Italus¡¯ expression. The recruitment officer watched me as I walked up, gesturing to the orb when I reached the table. I placed my hand upon it, and when the light came I was ready, retaining my composure even as I marvelled at the glow which danced around me. But the feeling it caused was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I could no longer feel the suspenseful watch of the crowd, now shrouded behind wisps which blocked them from my view. Instead it was replaced by the eyes of what could only have been the stars, the same constellations forming around me bringing with them the distinct feeling of stares which seemed to probe beneath my skin. It was a weird feeling although not exactly uncomfortable. But when it subsided the card rested before me, a character sheet of gold inscribed upon it in a determination of my stats and capabilities. This too was sealed by the officer, but my thoughts were not of inspecting the levels I had been assigned. Instead they were filled with a fear of what was to come. He gestured for my hand, one I firmly placed in his open palm; false courage disguising the dread I felt. This will hurt. Despite what he said, the wolf demonstrated no concern in his tone. I made sure to stare on ahead as the soldier handed the branding iron to the officer, trying best I could to keep my temperament unmoved by the approaching heat whose very sight lurched my stomach. ¡°Enkrid Ishmaea!¡± the officer cried out, ¡°By presentation of your viaticum and signaculum, along with the marking of the stigma, I announce you member of the ninety-sixth legion!¡± And then he plunged down the iron, and my hand screamed back. I could only taste blood as I gritted my teeth, relying on the tension to hold back a cry of pain. It lasted only a moment but it felt like an eternity, one in which I struggled to keep my hand steady against the pain inflicted by the metal searing my flesh. It did not subside either when he pulled it back, agony rendering my hand aflame. And in its place left a black mark which I slowly raised to my face. ¡°LEG ? XCVI¡± Seated above a Roman helmet, captioned by the same words embroidered on the flags around me. ¡°ITALVS¡±. I barely even noticed as the officer took the plate, his shout muffled by the daze I had found myself in as a consequence of the pain. ¡°[Iron Rank, Second Class]!¡± Applause and voices of awe greeted this announcement, but I comprehended neither this nor the congratulatory nod of the officer. Nor could I feel the gold licence in my hands, or the footsteps I somehow managed to take as I made my way towards the ranked recruits. All I could feel was the burning of my hand, a red hot blaze igniting my skin and flesh. And his name, emblazoned across my hand as if mocking me. Italus. Chapter 12 - Near Encounter [Chapter 12 - Near Encounter] It had grown dark by the time we had finished, and we were dismissed until the following morning. That evening was for rest, or so we were told, as well as to manage any loose ends we might have had. Once we returned, we would not get the same opportunity for some time. Service into the legion demanded with it a minimum of 25 years, and whilst I had no interest in seeing it to its end, I still welcomed this brief respite. The twins kept quiet as we headed back to the inn. It was clear what weighed heavy on their mind. The sting of the mark still persisted on the back of our hands as a constant reminder of our enlistment. And of the military life we had sworn ourselves into. They had not cried out when it was forced upon them, but I still felt immense guilt when it occurred. For them to have to suffer such pain, and for me to be the one responsible for their second mark which branded their flesh and body. It sat at the back of my mind, relieved only by the justification I gave myself of the revenge I sought out. There was no better path than the one I was now taking. And, despite my remorse, the choice to join had lain entirely with the twins themselves. I had offered them my reasoning, but I had not explained fully why I had been so keen to join. That would be something I would have to come clear about, but for now I reiterated the promise I had made to them in my mind once more. A promise I had made with utmost sincerity. ¡°Order what you want.¡± I told them. ¡°Don¡¯t hold back. It¡¯s the last chance we have for a while.¡± That raised their spirits by a little, and even Roxas could not disguise her drooling expression as she scanned through the tavern¡¯s menu. I smiled at the twins¡¯ excitement as they eagerly perused their choices. This peace was however short-lived, and the encounter came suddenly without warning. The door swung open as we ate. I did not see them walk in, but a hushed silence washing over the tavern betrayed their arrival. Footsteps of metal sounded in a steady gait, tracing a path to the counter. And then came the voice, the same grating sound that had rung in my dreams. ¡°A glass, tavernkeep. Make it light.¡± The inquisitors had come. They took the table by the window, only a meter away from where we sat. ¡°Three days and still nothing.¡± A gruff voice spoke first, one belonging to the man with the Zweih?nder. ¡°Are you sure he¡¯s still in Northgaard?¡± ¡°That¡¯s where the Trail brought us.¡± His companion answered him. I recognised it to be the same woman who had snapped at his remark before. ¡°Trust in Serin, Achios.¡± This was a new voice. Male, and articulated carefully with a calm manner that was not present in the others. ¡°When has the Trail ever led us astray?¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I¡¯m not doubting Serin,¡± the larger man, Achios, spoke back, ¡°but we¡¯ve been searching in this shithole for so long and there¡¯s still no sign of the guy.¡± ¡°Probably because you¡¯re so fucking big.¡± the woman retorted. ¡°They see you coming from a mile away.¡± ¡°I¡¯m splitting your head right fucking here.¡± he snarled, accompanied by a scraping I quickly realized to be the retraction of his sword. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Ira.¡± Their leader''s words stopped him in his tracks. Her voice was steady, her authority clear in its commanding tone. ¡°Achios, you as well. The Trail led us here, which means they¡¯re still in Northgaard.¡± ¡°Yes, Serin.¡± Subdued respect replaced the snarkiness in Ira¡¯s tone, whereas Achios too grumbled a half-hearted apology. Metal sounded again as he slowly sheathed back his half-drawn sword. Serin. Now I had their name, the leader of the inquisitors who had followed me all the way from the door. They were tracking me through a trail, some sort of magic it seemed that told them where I went. I wasn¡¯t sure how exactly it followed me, I had not done anything to give them such indication apart from the ingesting of whatever was in that vial. But that had been after I had left the door, after I had passed the ambush and found the body of Nemetus. Questions ran through my mind, ones that the wolf did not answer. Fortunately at least, it was not so accurate to determine my exact position, since they did not seem to be aware that I was now next to them. Unless of course they were pretending not to know¡­ I felt panic surfacing within me, but I did not let it show. If that was the case, I would have no choice but to fight them. My gun was still upstairs, I had not had the chance to go and get it. And the Eickhorn too. I was completely unarmed. Fuck. Why was I suddenly so unprepared? Let me help you. The wolf sneered, breaking his silence. I¡¯ll get rid of them for you if you give me a chance. I¡¯ll make sure the twins are safe too. I had no doubt that he had some ulterior motive, contrary to the words he said. And to cause a commotion here¡­ While that would rid me of their pursuit, it would complicate my plan to kill ITalus. In such a crowded environment there was no chance my face would not be remembered. But if I did not deal with this issue right now, the inquisitors would keep chasing me until they realized. Assuming of course that they hadn¡¯t already. ¡°Are you full?¡± Ante¡¯s voice ripped me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see the twins peering at me with puzzled eyes. Their bowls were now empty, whilst mine sat cold and half-full before me. I hadn¡¯t even realised I had stopped eating, and that I was gripping my spoon so tightly that my knuckles had turned white. How suspicious. The wolf smirked. Fuck. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t¡­ really have an appetite after the inspection. Let¡¯s go if you guys are done.¡± I laid down the spoon as I spoke, resisting the urge to glance back at the inquisitors. Despite his snide tone the wolf was right. I could only hope that they had not realized. Or at least, had not grown suspicious of my behaviour. I could feel the sweat beading on my head as I stood up to leave. I needed to get out of here. Anything to put some distance between us and them. I began heading for the stairs, each step I took bringing with it an increasing sense of relief. That however was quickly cut short. ¡°Wait.¡± Serin¡¯s word stopped me in my tracks. Out of habit, I felt my hand move towards my thigh for a knife that was not even there. A torrent of thoughts ran through my mind as I slowly turned, each one trying to calculate a way out. If I run I might make it. The gun¡¯s upstairs, hidden in my bag in the drawer. There¡¯s no lock and it¡¯s still loaded, I just needed to get there before they stop me. But the twins¡­ And then I was facing them. Five inquisitors, each one clad in thick plate armour, staring at me from their table. I could not make out a single opening in the metal they wore, and their faces stayed hidden despite the tankards in front of them, guarded by helmets they had still not taken off. Serin, their leader who had spoken, moved her head to look at me with an unnerving calm. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen your kind in these parts before. Where have you come from, traveller?¡± ¡°The East.¡± I had prepared my answers before, giving enough information while remaining vague enough to not contradict myself, but that did little to alleviate my nerves. I tried best I could to subdue them, to hide the unease that took my mind, and I forced myself to keep my gaze steady. I had to appear confident that I had done no wrong, but also servient enough to answer their questions, to show that I had nothing to hide, and that I was not the one they were after. She glanced at the twins, no doubt taking in their white hair and heterochromatic eyes. ¡°What fascinating companions you have.¡± Then she returned her stare to me. ¡°What brought you so far from home?¡± ¡°To serve the legion.¡± I raised my hand as I spoke, bringing my fist in a salute to purposely display the mark as clear as possible. The only time I was glad to have it, a proof of my identity that would hopefully dissuade her suspicions. She inspected it for a while, I could feel her eyes fixed on the mark even though I could not see her face. I could feel each second passing by before she spoke, my mind racing in fear that my cover had been blown. ¡°Very well, soldier.¡± Her words wrought out immense relief, but I did not show it. ¡°You may leave.¡± And she waved her hand dismissively as she turned back, along with the rest of the inquisitors who continued their conversation now in hushed tones. I said nothing more, offering a small bow before turning and heading back up the stairs. I did not realise that the inn had gone quiet, and that the chatter and music resumed now that the inquisitor was no longer interested. All that was in my mind, was the hope that they could not see the sweat I felt slowly trickling down the back of my neck.