III
Fort Larswood in Wells, Northern Fernest
“Have you heard the stories, Kirrus? They say on nights like tonight when the moon is pale—that’s when it appears.” Lloyd gazed distantly up at the silver moon obscured by hazy clouds as he spoke. Kirrus, his companion on sentry duty, yawned widely.
“Hm?” Kirrus said blearily. “Oh, you mean that story about the god of death?” He yawned again.
“Hey, we’re supposed to be on watch,” said Lloyd.
“Well, yeah, but come on,” Kirrus replied. “Who’s going to waste their time trekking out to the back end of nowhere to attack this sorry excuse for a fort? You know you’re the only one actually keeping watch, right?” He looked back at the rudimentary wooden fort and snorted. True to Kirrus’s words, Lloyd could just hear his fellow sentries laughing on the other side of the gate, all totally at ease. He gave a loud and deliberate sigh of exasperation.
It had been a month since it all began. A girl with silver hair, clad in ebony-black armor, appearing to assail their forces throughout the north. In addition to slaughtering all the soldiers, she also took their belongings. More and more soldiers were succumbing to the fear that this god of death would come for them next. Happily for Lloyd, however, no one had yet heard of her appearing in Wells.
“That might be true, but we still have to w—”
“Shh!” Kirrus said suddenly, pressing a finger to his lips. “There, in the grass. Did you hear that?” For a moment Lloyd wondered if Kirrus was just trying to shut him up, but the other man’s eyes were serious. For all he complained, it seemed, he’d still been on alert.
“I didn’t hear anything...” Lloyd said. “Couldn’t it just be a spotted rabbit?” He scanned the bushes, but couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.
“No. It didn’t sound like a rabbit...” Kirrus said slowly. “I’m going to take a look.”
“By yourself?”
“Honestly, Lloyd.” Under the red light of the torches, Kirrus looked exasperated. “There’s two of us on gate duty, right? How’d it look if we both left our post?” It was a good point, and Lloyd couldn’t think of a counterargument.
“Okay, you’re right. But let me know the moment anything happens.”
“Yeah. You keep an eye out too, Lloyd.”
“Got it,” he said. Kirrus advanced silently towards the bushes, holding his spear out in front of him. Just as Lloyd lost sight of him there was a swoosh like leaves being cut. Lloyd assumed Kirrus was using his spear to check for anything that might be lurking there.
He looked down at the whistle that hung around his neck. If something did happen, he’d use it to let the others know right away.
A warm breeze swirled lazily around him. Lloyd had his eyes peeled for any sign of movement, but couldn’t see anything. Little by little, he started to relax.
I guess Kirrus imagined it after all. He sure is taking his time, though... he thought. It must have been at least ten minutes since Kirrus went into the bushes. He didn’t have a watch, so he couldn’t say with total accuracy, but he was sure it was around that. He was just starting to feel irritated when he realized that the noise of the spear had stopped. The words god of death rose unbidden in the back of his mind.
Don’t be daft, Lloyd, he told himself. Kirrus was right. No death god is going to bother with us out here. His mind tried to deny it, but his body betrayed him. He felt sweat dripping from all over his body and he was on full alert once again.
“Hey, Kirrus!” he shouted with forced cheerfulness. “What’re you doing out there? If you still haven’t found anything I think we’re probably okay!” He felt like if he didn’t do something he was going to succumb to his nerves. He waited and waited, but Kirrus didn’t reply. Lloyd called out again, his voice ringing through the silence of the night, but no other voice answered. The only sound was the clear chirping of insects.
Okay, something is wrong. There’s no way he didn’t hear me. In a panic, Lloyd reached for his whistle—and that was the last thing he ever did.
“Phew, I thought we were done for a second there. Well done, ser.”
A fluttering laugh. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Gauss! If we find any good alcohol in their supplies, I’ll make sure you get it, though.”
“Hah, something to look forward to.”
Olivia sprang from the bushes, mini ballista in one hand. Gauss rested his bloody sword on his shoulder and walked forward, the soldiers of the Independent Cavalry Regiment following at his heels.
“I still can’t believe you can see this well, ser,” Gauss said, looking down at a body with an arrow sticking out of its forehead. “They had torches, sure, but that’s not normal, getting a perfect shot from that distance.” He seemed a little awestruck.
“It’s just practice, Gauss. You could learn to do it too.”
“Me? No, no way. Absolutely not.”
“Too bad,” Olivia replied. Now she thought about it, some humans were just like that—like Ashton, who never got any better with a sword no matter how hard he tried. Olivia quickly turned her mind to the next matter at hand: directing her soldiers to prepare flaming arrows. At Gauss’s signal, they spread out silently around the fort, ready to shoot at her command.
“We’re ready, Captain,” Gauss said. “Are you really sure we should go through with this, though?” Olivia nodded.
“This fort has no strategic value to Fernest right now. Burning everyone inside at once will save us time, plus it means we avoid losing any of our own soldiers,” she explained, smiling at Gauss, who looked uncomfortable, but nodded all the same.
“All right. Guess we should get started then,” he said. Olivia gave her signal, and the flaming arrows soared up before raining down on the wooden fort like shooting stars. There had been no rain in these parts for some time, and even the air was dry as dust. In the blink of an eye, the whole structure erupted into an inferno. Olivia watched as the fort slowly turned to ash and collapsed, then looked back to the gate.
“The survivors will probably try and make a run for it, so keep those arrows coming,” she called out. “Oh, right. I’ll help too, of course.” The sight of her standing there, mini ballista in hand, got all the soldiers fired up. She expected almost everyone would burn to death, but better safe than sorry.
An agonized scream rang out. “Fire! Everything’s on fire!”
“Hurry! Come on, get the gate open!”
It wasn’t long before yells and screams could be heard from the other side of the gate. Some few humans had indeed survived the blaze. They heard the bolt being lifted, and a dull, heavy scraping as the gate swung slowly open. As soon as there was enough space for a single person to squeeze through, the imperial soldiers scrambled over each other to get out first. They were met with a merciless barrage of arrows, and one after another, they collapsed to the ground, so peppered with arrows they resembled hedgehogs. Through all this, one soldier came charging out, weaving past incoming arrows, his eyes wild.
“You animals!” he screamed. “Did you enjoy that, you bastards?!”
“Huh? Oh, I’m out of arrows,” said Olivia. She slung the mini ballista back on her back, then, in the same breath, slashed her sword out. The imperial soldier fell apart in a spray of blood and viscera, his body split in two right down the middle. Olivia immediately wiped the blood from her blade and sheathed it. She heard the new recruits behind her gasp.
“On that note, Captain, do you happen to know what the imperial army has taken to calling you?” Gauss asked. His eyes were on her ebony-black armor—or more specifically, the crest that adorned her left shoulder. Olivia, wondering what note he was talking about, nodded.
“The god of death, right? It’s a much better name than monster, don’t you think?”
“You didn’t like being called ‘monster,’ but you’re fine with ‘god of death’?”
“Yep!”
“Why is that, ser? They don’t seem all that different to me.”
“Why, indeed...” said Olivia with a faint smile. She ordered Gauss to move out. As the last charred remains of Fort Larswood crumbled to the ground, the soldiers of the Independent Cavalry Regiment melted away into the night.
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