The boats grew closer. With one word from one of the generals, arrows were loosed, flying and striking indiscriminately. Some flew and struck horses, others flew and struck people.

  Unfortunately, some Dragikiri stood at the ready in the mass of boats sailing towards them. They raised their hands and blocked the arrows, blasting away arrows and letting them fall to the river. Before soon, Jovin River became a place for battered and broken arrows along with blood and bodies.

  The boats grew ever closer. Closer. Closer.

  Closer.

  Men standing along the dock let out a primal yell and engaged the soldiers in battle, pushing them, knocking them down, swinging their weapon frantically. Anything to try and stop them from entering the city.

  The instructions were clear: defend the city. Do not do anything that jeopardizes that simple instruction.

  Some of the men fell off boats as they got impaled by spears. Not enough, however. Some boats made land fall and the king’s soldiers started to descend onto the soldiers of Jovin City.

  One by one, ten by ten, hundreds by hundreds, many of the imperial soldiers stepped off their boats and the raid on the city began.

  As the soldiers got up from the boats, the men of Jovin City backed off and moved uphill, receding towards the buildings.

  One advantage Jovin City had in this raid is the familiarity of the landscape and the buildings. The raiding soldiers started to move upwards, fighting their way through the ranks. And by this time, many of the Jovin City soldiers scattered and broke formation, taking cover among the buildings.

  Archers stood at the ready, firing arrows from rooftops and striking down many men. But their numbers proved far too great, and the city started to become overrun by these soldiers.

  Anarchy everywhere, this was the fate of Jovin City.

  Sparring with a partner and actually fighting in a full scale battle were two entirely different things. Melwin had to learn that the hard way.

  In training, he had a squad with a formation that they could follow so they could watch each other’s backs. When the fighting had begun some hours ago, the formation was broken almost immediately. There were five to a squad. Three veterans and two newbies.

  Now he was the last one remaining. He saw the men he worked with gutted and left for dead along the cobblestone. Now he was running for his life while a pair of footsteps rang behind him.

  Why did he ever volunteer to be one of the team leads for Justicar? And why did Galvin agree to it? What qualities did he possess that could possibly make him stand above the others. Their leader made some foolish decisions throughout his life, but making him team lead was perhaps one of the worst.

  He passed an ally and as he did, a flash of steel struck out, decapitating the one who’d been chasing him. He turned around to see a fellow soldier there.

  “Come,” the soldier beckoned. Melwin didn’t need to be told twice. If there was some kind of reprieve from the fighting, he would sure as hell take it.

  In the time since the battle began, he had killed two people. Two unsuspecting soldiers from the opposite army that he managed to sneak up on, and plunged his spear through their chests. He could never hope to win in an outright fight with a man that outclassed him in skill and strength.

  “Have you been hiding here?” Melwin demanded. “While your comrades fought and killed?”

  The man shook his head, planting his back firmly against the wall. He had a look of total concentration on him. “It’s tactics,” he whispered. “Some squads stuck to the shadows and crevices in the city, working from the darkness to take some soldiers by surprise. We can’t win this battle if we outright fought in the open. We have to use our knowledge of this city to our advantage.”

  Melwin nodded. He wished they’d been taught this during training.

  “What’s your name, lad?” the older gentleman asked in a hushed voice.

  “Melwin, sir,” Melwin answered.

  Footsteps rang out from beyond the alley, closing in on them. The soldier smiled down at Melwin. “Well, Melwin, if you stick with me I can guarantee that your chances of survival will be higher.”

  Melwin nodded. “Sure, it’s a deal,” he said. The two moved out from the alleyway and came face to face with two enemy soldiers.

  While Melwin fumbled with his spear, caught off guard by the men in front of him, the solder who’d saved his life launched into a full offensive attack, charging straight for the two men while zigzagging to throw off their coordination.

  Melwin watched in wonder as the soldier swung his sword with lightning speed, deflecting blows that came to him, and sending steel through the air which found its mark.

  Before Melwin could blink, the two soldiers were dead, and his sword was bloodied.

  “And that’s how it’s done, remember-,” he was cut short as a blade protruded into his ribs, blood flowing out of the wound immediately.

  The soldier collapsed to the ground and went limp. The enemy yanked the blade out of the corpse, wiping blood off its steel.

  Melwin watched in horror as the man who promised him safety mere seconds ago now lie on the ground with eyes wide open and without life.

  Melwin fumbled his spear further and raised it to defend himself.

  “Don’t make me laugh, you’re just a boy,” the soldier stated, closing the distance between the two of them. As the enemy approached, Melwin took a couple of steps back, trembling.

  There were no worlds where he came out on top of this fight. He cowered behind his spear, raising his shaky arms, fear taking over his mind. He could try running. But this soldier’s legs were longer and he would be able to close in faster. He could try fighting, but from the way this soldier was standing, he knew his sword stances and it was obvious he’s practiced them every day of his life.

  The enemy charged. Melwin held up his spear, tip pointed outwards. He tried to make slight adjustments to the way he held it, just like how the captain taught him, but he had no time.

  He took a step back to avoid a sword swing then held his spear up to block another. The blade sliced clean right through the wood of the shaft and his weapon snapped in two.

  Melwin looked at the weapon then back to the assailant, many thoughts rushing through his mind. Was he going to die here?

  Just then, he remembered one quiet night in the city several months back, before any rebellion had taken place. A clear sunny sky with a nice breeze ruffling through his hair. He was in the barracks as a novice still; it was his first day in training.

  An older man came to their barracks and spoke of nonsense. Nonsense that he’d grown attracted towards and flocked to listen to.

  The world around Melwin slowed down as the sword came straight for his neck. He experienced it in slow motion, but his body wouldn’t react. All that happened in the moment between the sword coming towards him and when it made contact with skin was the things he remembered from the visit of this older gentleman.

  He wore fanciful suit and looked like a servant for the king of Agnius himself. His eyes gave away his burdens and his heard heavy with experience. He spoke in an enthusiastic way, and when he spoke, he told stories. It was he who encouraged Melwin to continue training to one day be a powerful soldier.

  That old man spoke of stories in times past. Stories of heroes and peoples who stood against oppression. People who rose against tyrants and overthrew evil rulers. Stories that inspired, stories that made him think of his parents and what they fought for.

  Melwin listened intently, his eyes full of wonder and awe as this nameless man moved his lips, making hand motions to encapsulate his stories. “In the end, the men who fought for freedom won. They never gave up hope, no matter how bleak everything became. Because the one thing keeping them moving forward was the dream of a future in which their children could live as free people.”

  Those words echoed all throughout his mind. Heroes. Heroes fought villains all the way in ancient times, extending all until the now, the present. Heroes always came out on top, and villains always fell. Light overcomes darkness. That was the motto in which he placed his faith when he joined the army, that the righteous would win.

  If that were true, then why was he about to face his death?

  Had everything been a lie from the beginning? Was he the villain? No no no, that couldn’t be.

  The gleaming sword drew ever closer, inches from his neck now, and his eyes widened in fear.

  This wasn’t a part of the stories that man told. Heroes win, villains fall. He didn’t know so much death and destruction came with it. Looking around, seeing the bodies that lay bloodied on the streets which belonged to the rebellion… those guys had died as heroes.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Heroes were supposed to win.

  Melwin understood. People die every day. This wasn’t some false story about a group of brave men standing against a tyrant. This was reality. And he was about to die.

  The last thought he had on this earth before the blade struck wasn’t one of betrayal… he looked towards the heaven, finally glad that he would be able to return home to his parents. He was tired of the fighting, the training, the grind to get stronger every day. He just wanted… a break.

  To hell with all the stories about brave heroes. He wasn’t a hero; he would never be one. He was just Melwin. And someone like him wouldn’t be the stuff of legends.

  A sharp slice ripped through his flesh and everything faded into darkness.

  A battle of attrition. That was what surrounded Lord Seldam as he stood in the battlefield-turned city. He witnessed his men dying everywhere and found himself often praying to Agnius for the strength to continue. He never prayed, but it hurt his soul to watch as his men fought for their city and die.

  Where are you, Galvin? He thought hopelessly as he parried a sword. He sent a force upwards and launched the attacker away before sending a stab of his own.

  Off to his right, one of the pubs in town as lit on fire as soldiers came marching over it and through. That makes two taverns within the year to go up in a blaze of smoke and glory.

  He always hated the way things were in the kingdom, but did the fight really have to go to his city? Why was he the one who was unfortunate enough to have multiple rebellions spring up in short tandem with one another?

  No use dawdling on the past now. The important thing was that the battle had come to his city, and he needed to focus on fighting it.

  The plan was for Galvin to circle in with help from the surrounding villages and converge on the enemies. Every five seconds, he scanned the outline of the horizon for a figure darting towards them, but each time, disappointment filled him.

  The sound of metal slicing through flesh rang through the air. Seldam spun around to see one of his men there, hands on the pommel of his sword, the blade protruding on one of the enemy soldiers that managed to sneak up on him.

  Lord Seldam acknowledged him, realizing he was holding in a breath. “You may have just saved my life,” Lord Seldam said, walking past the soldier, taking a mental picture of the triumphant man standing before him. “If we live through this battle, I might have to promote you to a lieutenant.”

  The soldier beamed with pride before Seldam moved on, wavering through the streets and watching the battle rage on.

  Columns of smoke rose up into the sky and blackened out the clouds. The enemy troops started fires on anything flammable to cause as much damage as they could to the city.

  Damn them. It’s going to take a fortune to repair all of this afterwards. Seldam shook his head. He couldn’t think about the consequences now. He needed to focus on the fight in front of him.

  As he moved through the city, several men surrounded him. Since he is the ruling figure in the city, his subordinates put his life above others. If someone sees him in danger, they come to his rescue. Before long, he’s amassed a squad of soldiers from different squads, all protecting him and escorting him.

  Lord Seldam didn’t have a location in mind. He was just… meandering. Cutting down as many of the enemy forces as possible.

  When did Galvin say he was going to return? Dusk? The sun had already set well behind the horizon, and the last light of day faded, yet Seldam didn’t see a hint of where that man might be.

  Keep your head high, he thought.

  His squad came face to face with another squad, with Seldam plump in the middle with the most amount of protection. They attacked and collided with one another. He watched as men he just met fell, including the one he promised the promotion to. His boots became soaked with their blood, a feeling he’d grown used to throughout the duration of the battle. Still, he managed to escape with two men still alive while the others died for him.

  A sense of guilt made his way to him. He was just leading everyone to their deaths. The men who’s served him loyally for years, all giving their lives in the blink of an eye.

  The whole rebellion had been foolish. How dumb were they to think they could stand against a tyrant like Rai’Shal? Everything was doomed from the very beginning.

  “Sir, we’re being overrun!” one of the men shouted to him as he fended off an attacker and getting sliced down. His eyes went lifeless as his corpse collided with the cobblestone.

  Seldam stared off into the distance, seeing a shadow dart across the night sky. His heart skipped a beat. Galvin finally returned!

  He scanned the horizons. Not a single soldier in his line of sight.

  Galvin’s feet hit on the streets, releasing a shockwave as he landed in a crouch. Lord Seldam’s men gathered around him, and his jaw dropped. The newcomer isn’t Galvin at all…

  Could it be someone else from Justicar he hadn’t met?

  The figure looked sideways and locked eyes with Lord Seldam. Blades appeared in his clutches and he became a whirlwind of death, slicing and dicing through Seldam’s men.

  Lord Seldam had some skilled men under his command, but this Dragikiri made them appear as nothing more than lost children. He watched as throats got sliced and bodies piling on the ground.

  Before he knew it, the men who dedicated their lives to protect him lay at his feet.

  Seldam took a couple of steps back, fear gripping at him, his hand gripping his hilt while shaking uncontrollably.

  Seldam accepted his fate. He couldn’t stand against a monster such as this. He breathed in a deep breath. “Who are you?” he tried to sound demanding, but his voice quivered and he let out more of a squeal than anything.

  The Dragikiri cracked a smile. “My name is Vlanu,” he said. “Are you the one they call Lord Seldam?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I assume you are, given the way all these men were protecting you,” Vlanu motioned to all the corpses around him. “The king wants to take you to his prison. You alone. The others can die for all he cares.”

  The words stuck a chord in him. He shook his head. “I would much rather die than be taken prisoner by that vile man.”

  Seldam attacked, a tiny part of him hoping that he’d be successful, that this Vlanu wasn’t as good as he seemed despite taking all his men.

  One moment, Seldam was in the process of swinging his sword, the next, his head struck the cobblestone and his sword clanged down next to him.

  “As much as I would love to make your request a reality, the king would really like to have a word with you,” Vlanu whispered in his ear.

  “Stop!” a voice called out.

  Vlanu sighed. “Your men really do like dying for you, don’t they?” he said before he got up off of Seldam.

  No! He tried to shout. Run away! But all he could manage was meaningless jargon.

  He stood up and watched in horror as Vlanu became the spinning mass of death again, slicing through his men.

  Seldam couldn’t watch any longer. He turned and ran. If he were to be captured, this battle was over. And Galvin still had to come with all the men. He’d be disappointed if he found his efforts were for naught.

  Seldam needed to hide. Needed a moment to recuperate. He tuned out the sounds of his men dying. He focused on what was ahead of him as he ran. When the shouts of his men didn’t fill the air anymore, he knew Vlanu would be after him.

  His suspicion was confirmed when the cloaked man landed in front of him in a dramatic crouch.

  A second chance.

  Seldam charged, swinging his sword as fast and as hard as he could. Vlanu sidestepped the strike then retaliated with a blow of his own which knocked Seldam to the ground with ease.

  Vlanu took the opportunity to pounce on him, holding the sword inches away from his throat. His eyes were alight with the look of hatred.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Seldam said. “You could just drop your weapon and come join us on this fight.”

  Vlanu let out a hearty laugh. “You are funny. If we weren’t on opposite sides of this battle, then we might’ve been friends.”

  Oh Galvin, wherever you are, please hurry.

  Seldam held his breath and counted his heartbeat, expecting him to drop in at the last moment and fight against this Dragikiri.

  Seldam was powerless against a man like this. He waited. And waited. And waited. But no other Dragikiri came in, and this battle was as good as lost.

  A realization slowly dawned on him while he was pinned by this monster. Galvin never intended to come. For some reason or another, he’d decided to abandon Jovin City. He made the decision to condemn him and all the people of this city to death.