I lay there for what felt like an eternity, slipping in and out of a restless sleep. My body ached, and my mind wandered. Eventually, a firm nudge to my leg jolted me awake. I blinked, disoriented, and immediately sat up. Standing above me was a group of Heladonic soldiers, their armor unmistakable—a design I had grown to despise with every fiber of my being.
“Get away from me!” I shouted, panicking, I scrambled backward.
“Calm down, son,” one of them said, his voice gruff. He stepped forward, kneeling in front of me and removing his helmet to reveal an older face, one of a seasoned fighter. His eyes, tired. “We’re Kingdom Patrols, no need to worry.”
My breath caught in my throat as I sized him up. How could I not worry? But as I studied their faces, it became clear—they didn't know who I was. Not yet, at least. News of who I was must have not made it out here as of yet.
“There’s an individual in Auriver looking for you. A young lady.” He held his hand out.
I didn’t take it at first, not due to hesitation or fear, but the overwhelming relief that Odessa was okay, “Thank you…” I finally muttered, reaching out to clasp the soldier’s hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet. “Thank you.”
He nodded, a small gesture of acknowledgment before turning back to his men. Four of them stood in a tight formation, shoulder to shoulder, waiting for orders. “Ready your horses for Auriver,” he commanded.
One of the soldiers hesitated, then asked, “What about the marriage, sir?”
The older man let out a gruff sound, almost a scoff. “Every soldier in Heladon will be there protecting them.” He walked over to his horse, a strong animal with short white fur and a long, noble snout. He mounted it with ease, his presence commanding and authoritative. “We need to get this young man to town.”
“You don’t have to—” I started, my voice frantic at first, but then I caught myself. I couldn’t afford to seem suspicious. I forced myself to calm down, swallowing the anxiety that bubbled up in my chest.
“Come on.” He reached down, grabbing my arm, and helped me onto the back of his horse. I didn’t resist, didn’t say a word. I knew better than to disagree or make a scene. The last thing I needed was for them to start asking questions. “We have to do some good, you know?”
"Yeah..." I muttered, keeping my response brief, hoping to avoid further conversation. The older man seemed to sense my unease and fell silent. The ride to Auriver wasn’t long—only about twenty minutes—but it felt like an eternity in its own right.
At first, the horses moved sluggishly, their hooves trudging through the thick underbrush. But as soon as we found the main path cutting through the woods, they picked up speed. The trees on either side blurred together, their leaves a rush of green that flew past us. The rhythmic clopping of hooves on dirt had an oddly calming effect, causing me to yearn—a longing for my own horse, one I knew I’d likely never see again.
The scent of the ocean hit me as we broke free from the trees, a fresh, salty breeze that I’d never known before. Auriver spread out before us, a town that was almost beautiful in its own rustic way. The buildings, though not grand, had a certain charm to them, their flat, towering structures standing firm against the backdrop of the sea. Large naval ships crowded the harbors, their masts reaching toward the sky, while down on the beaches, workers sifted through sand, gathering it for some unknown purpose.
Auriver wasn’t as large as I had imagined, but from where we stood, I could see a massive statue dominating the town center. It was a statue of Emperor Roland. Before it became a monarchy, the Kingdom of Heladon had been known as the Heladonic Empire—a nation so vast, so powerful, that it had eventually fractured under its own weight, unable to sustain itself.
Despite my deep-seated hatred for Heladon, I couldn’t help but find its history fascinating, even beautiful at times. There was a tragic elegance to it, a story of rise and fall that spoke to the impermanence of all things. The empire had never quite recaptured the glory of its golden age, the time of Emperor Roland—at least, that’s what the history books taught.
Guards patrolling the outskirts did not stop us on our way in, for obvious reasons. The townsfolk stared up at us. Eyeing me with an intensity that made me nervous. This place was less dense than Heladon but by the state of it was no better. Supplies in wagons were being carried out to ships, most likely readying for war. Civilians stayed in their homes or away from the town center.
There was a clear view of the ocean. I had never seen the sea before. To the left, a distant landmass jutted out into the water, eventually reconnecting with the mainland after stretching for hundreds of miles. From here, it looked like a small, insignificant piece of land, yet I knew it was anything but.
The sea itself, with a glint of vibrant blue and crashing waves, made for a damn good sight. One I could have never truly imagined before. The air here also felt warm, still chilly, but hot enough that it felt like a Heladonic summer back in the city.
The horses came to a halt, and I watched as the soldier dismounted. He extended a gloved hand, which I grasped tightly, the rough material biting into my palm as he helped me down. I landed on my feet, my legs feeling weak but steady.
The soldier nodded towards the building next to us—a nondescript structure that looked as old and worn as the rest of the town. Through the grimy windows, I could make out the faint outlines of bookshelves. It was an old library of sorts.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice strained, before giving him a final nod, swinging open the door and stepping inside.
The library’s interior was just as modest as the outside. Shelves lined the walls, about four or five in total, each crammed with books of varying sizes and colors. The room was small, its limited space filled with the musty scent of old paper and leather bindings.
As I walked through the narrow aisles, my fingers trailed along the spines of the books, the motion producing a satisfying rustle, but soon stopped. In front of me was Odessa sitting at a table, another guard standing there.
“Odessa?” I called out, and she turned to look at me right away.
At first, she was silent, but as her eyes focused on me, her expression softened. “Alaric—”
Before Odessa could say more, the soldier, who had been slouched, straightened up. With a deep, resonant voice, he interjected, “Well then. Glad we could be of assistance.” Just as he finished speaking, a knock came from the door. The soldier glanced at us briefly, then marched over, opening the door a crack before pulling it fully open.
“Alaric...” Odessa whispered, her voice tinged with fear. I followed her gaze and saw a messenger standing in the doorway, not a soldier but someone dressed in leather. He held a long piece of paper— a wanted poster with my face prominently displayed. The news had spread.
Moving quietly, I crept up behind the soldier, who was now engaged in conversation with the messenger about what to do. Before they could react, I unsheathed the soldier's sword and held it to his neck. Turning to the messenger, I ordered, “Get out.”
The messenger complied immediately, shutting the door behind him. “You’re a criminal,” the soldier said as I stepped away from him, still holding the sword.
“What should I do?” I asked, directed at Odessa who was now standing by my side.
The soldier, his posture stiffening with unease, began to edge backward toward the door. “He’ll inform the others, Alaric—you need to kill him,” Odessa urged and inconsistent.
I hesitated slightly. “The messenger will spread the news regardless,” I muttered, closing my eyes briefly.
Without another word, I lunged forward, the blade slicing through the air with a sharp whistle. The soldier’s eyes widened in shock as the edge of the sword met his neck. Blood sprayed outwards, a dark, warm stream that stained the floor beneath us. His body crumpled to the ground, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.
I looked down at the fallen soldier. “But he’s one less to worry about,” I said quietly.
Before Odessa could respond, the door was flung open with a loud bang, slamming against the wall. Soldiers marched in, their armor clinking and scraping against the wooden floor. They carried their swords at their sides, clearly confident that they didn't need to draw them.
The room fell silent as the soldiers stepped aside to make way for a man who walked through. He was taller and older than the others, with short gray hair and a stubby, aftershaven beard. His silver armor gleamed with a golden tint when it caught the light, and the mail covering his sides and neck plates offered strong protection against a quick slash.
“General Arminulf,” the messenger squeezed through the crowd, presenting the wanted poster with my face. “Alaric Faust, the alleged son of the elite Aldric Faust,” he announced, his eyes fixed on me. “A sorcerer who was supposed to be executed but escaped. He’s burned seventy dead to the bone.” The general lowered the paper as the messenger continued, “King Chlodovech wants him brought in alive, along with the girl.”
The general raised a hand, signaling the messenger to stop. After a long pause, Arminulf spoke. “Lower your sword,” he commanded, his voice less deep than I had expected but still carrying the weight of age. “It will be easier for all of us.”
I gripped the sword firmly and responded, “I’m not going back to him—no way in hell.”
“You’re outnumbered, boy,” General Arminulf said, his scowl deepening. “And because of you, I’ll have to send good men to Heladon City right before a major naval expedition.” He took a deep breath and glanced at the messenger. “You can leave now, Eislur.”
The messenger nodded quickly and scurried back through the soldiers like a rat. Arminulf turned his attention back to us. “You must be Odessa Faust.” His face remained stoic, nearly devoid of emotion. “When your brother Bastian went missing and was sent to the frontlines, your mother was deeply distressed... but it seems she hasn’t shown much concern for you.”
Odessa stepped forward with a loud huff, but I placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t let him get to you,” I murmured.
“Find the library keeper,” General Arminulf instructed a guard, disregarding my attempt to comfort Odessa. He began to pace slightly, his attention flickering between us and the other soldiers. “None of us enjoy serving King Chlodovech,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “Even if it’s dangerous to admit it.” He returned his focus to us. “But it’s what must be done.”
“And why are you telling me this?” I asked.
Arminulf scoffed. “I see that look on your face. Chlodovech always finds a new favorite, thinking they’ll be the one to turn the tide of the war.” He paused, then continued, “But with the marriage coming up, you’re of no use to him. He just wants to see you burn. It’s all for his amusement... and it’s horrifying.”
“General Arminulf, was it?” Odessa spoke up, utterly defiant. “My mother and father spoke of you often, and they thought you were pathetic.” She grabbed the sword from my hand with a rough motion. “The only real achievement you’ve had was storming Mirohold... and that was on my father’s orders.” She positioned herself protectively in front of me. “I won’t let you take him without a fight.”
He began to nod with a light laugh, then looked away. “Pathetic, huh?”
In a blur of motion, he unsheathed his dagger, seized her hand, and drove the blade into Odessa’s abdomen.
She screamed as the general twisted the knife, letting her blood splatter across his clothes and face. Time seemed to slow for me, the gravity of the moment hanging heavy in the air.
I stood frozen, unable to react as Odessa sank to her knees. Tears streamed down her face, her sword clattering to the ground with a metallic clang. Blood soaked the outer layers of her garment, darkening the fabric.
No, I couldn’t just stand there and watch her life bleed away. I had to do something, anything. With a desperate lunge onto my knees, the rough floor scraping painfully against me, my fingers closed around the hilt, and with a desperate cry, I swung the blade aimlessly up at the general
The blade screeched against his armor, hurting my wrist and sending sparks flying. The sharp scent of burning metal filled the air. The general stumbled back, but his armor absorbed the blow, protecting him from serious harm, yet a long scratch was now visible on his chest plate.
Before I could fully regain my footing, soldiers closed in, knocking the weapon from my hands. I flailed wildly, trying to break free from their grip.
“You’re just going to let her die?” I shouted, anger stuffed into every letter.
His finger extended, pointing to the motionless figure on the ground. “Look what you did to him,” the general mocked with a cold laugh. “And I’m the monster? No,” he said slowly, his voice changing. “You’re the animal.”
I stared at the body. He was right, in a way.. But for some reason, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t regret any of the lives I’d taken. I used to… maybe? I couldn’t even remember if I’d ever felt remorse for the lives I’d taken. Maybe I had once, but now, that sense of right and wrong felt like a distant memory, buried under layers of survival and bloodshed.
I chose to stay silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. The general lingered for a moment, his eyes searching mine for any flicker of emotion. Finding none, he let out a small, mocking laugh before turning on his heel and leaving the building.
The soldiers wasted no time. Rough hands seized me, dragging me toward the door. As I stumbled forward, it was as if the universe was telling me to give up. Behind me, I heard the faint shuffling as they lifted Odessa, her body limp and unresponsive. My heart pounded in my chest. She couldn’t fucking die.
Even with Vesperus gone, nothing had changed, except my indifference to murder.
ns 15.158.61.21da2
