Johan
“Johan.”
He grumbled, wincing his eyelids that were still tightly shut. Who’s calling me?
“…What?” he mumbled drowsily.
“Johan.” There it was again, that damned voice. What on earth do you want?
“Go away… Leave me be…”
“JOHAN.”
He shook himself awake as he jolted up. Forcing his eyes open, he saw Nova standing there, right in front of him. The sight of the boy alone was enough to freeze every inch of his body.
“…N-nova?” His voiced stammered. He couldn’t believe it. “Nova, you’re alive?”
“Help me, Johan! Please.” The boy’s face was marked with wretched horror. “Please!”
As Johan tried to figure out what was happening, he turned his gaze toward Nova’s feet and saw whatever was plaguing him: a pit filled to the brim with some sort of black liquid. The boy had somehow gotten himself stuck, and was sinking further every second. The pit had already swallowed him up to his knees. There was little time to spare.
“Hold on, Nova! I’m coming.” Desperately looking around, there was nothing he could use to his advantage. It was also impossible to make out what his surroundings were. As hard as he tried, all he could see and focus on was Nova and the pit itself.
In a fit of desperation, he ran over and stretched out his arm. “Take it, come on!”
Reaching out, the boy grabbed on, clutching his wrist. “Please, Johan—Help me.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…”
“You’re not going to die, not on my watch. Come on!” Johan anchored his feet and starting pulling. Mustering all of his strength, he screamed as he heaved. But it wasn’t working. The black sludge refused to let go of its captive, and the poor boy was still sinking further in.
“I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…”
“You’re not—I’ll think of something!” Johan’s heart was pounding at his chest like a drum. Boom, boom, boom. It felt like all of the blood had been sucked out of his veins. What do I do? he asked himself. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?
“Please don’t let go of me… I don’t want to die…”
Johan looked at him. Such a heart-wrenching sight alone was almost enough to break his spirit. Nova’s eyes had become red and were swollen from crying. The pit had nearly swallowed him up to his upper body. He sniffled, his voice breaking, pleading desperately for anything. “P-please…”
Before Johan could do anything else to help, several long, decrepit hands reached out from the pit and snagged ahold of Nova’s arms, shoulders, and face. He instinctively went for the hilt of his sword with his free hand, but found nothing there.
“Nova, don’t let go!” His voice was coarse, on the verge of breaking.
The boy’s grip intensified, tightly squeezing Johan’s hand. Any composure that had existed before had been shattered into pieces. Nova begged for his life, for mercy, screaming at the top of his lungs as he tried prying off the hands that were dragging him under.
“I don’t want to die… I DON’T WANT TO DIE! PLEASE!”
Nova had been swallowed up to his chest by now. Left with no other options, Johan shifted his focus on tearing away the hands that held him captive. Before he could make any progress, however, he felt someone grab his shoulder.
Swiveling his head around, he saw whoever it was.
“Kerion? What are you…?” He was stunned to see him here. Help me, was what he wanted to scream, but something felt off. The captain’s eyes were not the calm, gentle ones that he knew of. Instead, they looked milky-white, as if shrouded in sort some of fog. He immediately thought back to the monsters they had faced in the village.
Who are you?
Without warning, Kerion grabbed his arms and started pulling him away.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, thrashing about. “Let go!”
Nova cried after him as their hands threatened to detach from one another, pleading, begging. The poor boy was holding on for dear life. “JOHAN! DON’T GO!”
“HANG ON, NOVA!” Despite his efforts, Johan couldn’t shake himself free. Kerion's grip was too strong for him. Unnaturally strong, even. But he couldn't possibly bring himself to let the boy go.
“Release me, you fucking bastard!” He slammed his forehead against Kerion's own.
Stunned, the captain stumbled backwards, which gave Johan the opening he needed. Yanking his captive hand back as hard as he could, he used his other hand to forcibly pry off Kerion's fingers. But the captain's grip was firm, and only grew stronger. Tightening his hold, Kerion tore Johan away from Nova and tossed him to the ground.
With nothing to hold on to anymore, the boy slipped even further into the pit, until at last only his head was visible. Johan tried desperately to claw his way back to him, but the captain was quick to react and dove onto him, grappling an arm around his throat.
Resistance was futile. Johan had effectively been restrained. As he felt himself being starved of air by Kerion, he could only watch as a helpless Nova was dragged under. By now, the boy had given up, his strength all but gone. “…I don’t wanna die… I don’t wanna die…”
Another hand emerged from the pit and wrapped around Nova’s face, smothering him. The last of that young, innocent face was gone, forever. No consolation. No closure. That was when Kerion finally let him go.
Reduced to gasping for air on his knees, Johan pounded his fist against the ground in a mixture of grief and anger. He was too broken to even try and attack Kerion. He had failed, again. A pathetic, sorrow-laden laugh escaped as he pressed his head against the ground. Soon afterward, it turned into a pure, fiery rage. He screamed as loud as he could. But nothing came out.
The very essence of the world seemed to collapse, folding from underneath him. His spirit broken, he willingly embraced what must have been his fate. He fell for a long time before suddenly being hit by a giant, wet wall. Shocked, he opened his eyes, realizing he had just plunged into a deep pit of water. A stream of hope began flowing through his veins once again. Although he couldn't see anything, he tried his best to swim toward what he thought was the surface. Or was it?
He panicked, realizing that the darkness that surrounded him meant he couldn't be sure where he was, or where he was going. Just as he was about to give up again, however, there was a light that appeared from above, bursting its way into the abyss. A sense of hope returned, and he began swimming for what must have been the surface.
Despite how fierce his strokes were, however, it felt like he was getting no closer. As the realization hit, his muscles began waning, and his breath finally gave out. Choking on the water that seeped into his throat, he was unable to fight any longer. The surface was too far away.
As he sank back into the deep and felt himself dying, the last thing that he saw was the light piercing the water. How beautiful, and yet... so tragic.
Lurching out from his bed, he gasped as if he had just surfaced from drowning. Drenched in sweat, he could feel the tears still streaming down his face. Taking his sleeve, he wiped it dry.
This wasn’t his first nightmare about Nova. Trembling from head to toe, he tried to calm himself down. You’re alright, you’re okay. It was just a dream…
As he steadied his breathing, he tried to ground himself within the familiarities of his room—the creak of the wooden floors, the smell of maple, and the warmth of the sun streaming through his window.
Eventually, the shaking subsided. It took all of his strength to will himself out of bed. Composing himself, he put on his ranger garments, fastened his green cloak, and left in search of Baelis.
Kerion Vorna
“Kerion.”
“Hm?” His head jerked up from the table. Squinting his eyes, he groaned in dissatisfaction. A throbbing sensation pounded at his temples.
He must have passed out the night before. The windows were no longer dark, and the tavern was fully lit by vast swaths of sunlight coming in. An unfinished tankard sat beside his arms, filled halfway with the strongest mead they had to offer.
Curious as to who was addressing him now, he looked aside. Shocked, he stood up at once. “Commander—“
“Sit.” Leopold had an astonishingly calm look about him, despite Kerion’s present state. This did not surprise him.
Easing himself down, Kerion clumsily slumped back into his chair. His head still felt like it was spinning on end, pain throbbing from the inside. He massaged his temples in hopes of soothing himself. It didn’t work.
“I see that you have been... rather busy.” The commander pulled out a chair opposite of Kerion and sat down.
Kerion chuckled, though it was sad one. “Yes… I suppose so.” Reaching out, he tried to grab his tankard. Before he could so, however, Leopold snatched it away.
“Hey, I was going to finish that.”
The commander gave him a disapproving look. “No worries, I’ll finish it for you.”
Opening up a window, he tossed the rest of the mead out and handed back an empty mug. “Here you are.”
Speechless, Kerion took his tankard back and blankly stared into its empty bowl. He didn’t remember much about the previous night, but he knew he must have been drinking… a lot.
Leopold silently studied him, leaning back into his chair. The incoming light from the sun seemed to make his icy blue eyes glisten and his golden hair shine, which was always well-kempt, neatly swept aside.
“I had hoped that giving you leave would help,” he said. “…But it seems you’ve only gotten worse.”
Kerion couldn’t help but smile. “Can’t disagree with that.”
Silence took over their conversation. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Leopold. Those eyes of his were far too imposing. “…Why did you come here, anyway? I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than sit here with me.”
“The scouting phase has been concluded, I’m going to summon all of the officers for a meeting at Warhall to discuss our strategy going forward.”
Kerion finally made himself look up, meeting the commander’s eyes with his own.
“I need you there, Kerion," Leopold told him. "Not here, drinking yourself to death. So tell me, what troubles you so?”
The pain that pounded at his head only grew worse as he thought about it. Back to that day: the day Nova died. When he had entered the room, he knew immediately that the boy was gone. Johan had told him that he died in the middle of the night, likely in excruciating pain from whatever was plaguing him. Poor boy, he thought.
Despite being resolute in his decision to save Eren’s family, he still felt an essence of doubt gnawing at him. He hadn’t expected that someone would die during his first command. Was there anything he could have changed? Done differently? Had he truly caused Nova’s death? By what right would he have the power to send someone to die? Whatever he thought of ultimately wouldn’t matter, however, as the deed had already been done. There was nothing in the world that would allow him to change the past.
He turned his gaze outside the window, where he saw a group of children playing outside. Refugees rescued from the Bothic. Did I do it for them, for the greater good? Is that what he died for?
“It’s about the boy who died on my last command,” he said, at last. “…I’ve had nightmares about it every night since.”
Leopold’s expression softened. “Nova Engel, wasn’t it?”
Kerion nodded.
“I see.” The commander gently rubbed his chin. “You regret his death, and you suspect that you played a role in it, somehow. I understand how you feel.”
“…I thought I was so sure about my decision.” Kerion frowned, staring into his mug. “That he had sacrificed himself for the greater good, fulfilling his oath. But… the boy didn’t deserve a death as horrible as that. His last words weren’t even heard, and now he’s buried out there… in a treacherous and dangerous land. He can’t even rest in peace.”
Leopold leaned forward against the table, resting his elbows on top. “I understand completely, Kerion.”
“…You do?” Kerion looked up from his tankard.
“Yes,” answered Leopold. “I’ve led countless men into battle, hundreds of them. Many, to their deaths. As a leader, as a commander, you must learn to come to terms with this: not all of your men are going to make it out.”
This left Kerion disheartened. “…Am I even fit to lead, then? How many more will die under my command? How many sons, brothers, and possibly fathers? Hundreds? Thousands?” His eyes were pleading for guidance. He considered resigning from his post and exiling himself somewhere far, far away, where he would probably drink himself to death.
“Whether you believe yourself fit to lead or not, it’s up to you, Kerion. And while every dead ranger is a tragedy, this is a war we’re fighting. And do you know what we’re fighting for?”
Kerion couldn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything. His mind was still hurting. Perhaps he had forgotten amidst his grief and wallowing.
But Leopold knew.
“The realm,” he said. “And the millions of men, women, and children who live in it. We get our hands soaked in blood and tears so that they may have a chance to live their lives in peace and quiet. That is the oath we swore, to sacrifice our lives for others.”
The oath we swore, Kerion thought. To sacrifice our lives… Yes, it was coming back to him now. He thought back to Eren, his wife Alyssa, and their daughter, Lianna. Three innocent souls. If he had refused to rescue them, where would they be now? A relief force had been delayed by the Greencloaks because it was deemed too dangerous at first. If it were not for Kerion’s decision, it may have been too late. They would have been stranded and left to die to whatever stalked those woods now. But the guilt was still there, buried deep inside.
“You may think that you could have done something different back then,” Leopold continued. “But that belief is self-destructive. Instead of focusing on what to change for the better in the future, you become stuck in the past. Like what is happening now, it will drag you to depths and drown you there.”
Kerion remained silent, but he nodded. He didn’t think Leopold’s words were necessarily wrong.
“So, I’ll tell you what you must do to free yourself. Let go of your doubts. Although your underlings may have their own, a commander must never succumb to his. If a commander lacks conviction, then that is the end. For him, and his men.”
Stunned, he thought long and hard about every word Leopold had said. It felt like two different ideologies were waging war upon each other inside of his head. The pain only got worse as he thought about it more. But, the commander was right. They were at war. He didn’t know who, or what they were at war with, but there were battles to come that needed soldiers. And Kerion had to be there, ready to fight in defense of the realm alongside his brothers. Although every death was a tragedy, the sacrifice of the Greencloaks was a far better alternative than the deaths of millions of innocents.
Staring firmly at the mug, he swept it aside with his hand. “When will the meeting be?”
Leopold kept a serious face. “Tomorrow, when the Emperor’s reinforcements arrive. We’ll include their officers in the meeting as well.”
He stood up from his chair. “I hope to see you there.”
Kerion also rose, although he had to grab onto the table to keep himself steady.
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“I’ll be sure of it, commander.”
His eyes were staunch and resolute. From this day, until his last day, he would recommit himself to the cause of the Greencloaks, to defending the innocent, and leading his men well.
Leopold allowed a small smile to escape from his lips. “I’m glad to hear that.”
Johan
Johan found Baelis at the forge, busy sharpening his sword and daggers. The swordsman was quick to notice him. “Morning, Johan.”
He managed a nod in return, walking over to Baelis. “Sharpening your weapons again?”
“Aye.” He took his sword off from the whetstone and wiped its edges with a wet cloth. “What brings you here?”
“I had to see you,” Johan answered.
“Well, you’ve seen me, now what?” Baelis chuckled as he used the same cloth to start polishing his blades.
Now’s not the time for jokes, damn it.
Johan cleared his throat. “Do you still dream about Nova, from time to time?”
The man’s smile quickly soured, disappearing. He had a serious, concentrated look as he worked on his weapons. “Occasionally. How about yourself?”
Johan nodded. “I woke up from another one… not too long ago.” Spotting an open stool, he sat himself down with a sigh.
“Was it a similar one to the others?” Baelis looked at him.
Grimly, he nodded. “Yes, it was.”
“Fucking hell…” the swordsman muttered under his breath.
“Do you still think we did the right thing?”
“Nothing’s right about Nova dying,” Baelis answered. “But nothing’s right about leaving innocents to die, either. You and I, we’ve been at this for a while, haven’t we, Johan? We’ve lost many good men over the years, but how come Nova’s passing has sparked up all of these nightmares and trouble?”
Johan could only shrug. “…I don’t know. Maybe it’s how he died, at such a young age.”
“Turner was scarcely sixteen when he died, and that was when we were fighting those slave traders in the crownland. You remember them, don't you? Ruthless cunts. Now, I don’t know how old Nova was, but he certainly looked as old as Turner was when he died, perhaps even a year or two younger.” Having finished wiping down his blades, Baelis put them back into their scabbards. “So, I doubt the boy’s age has got anything to do with it.”
His eyes looked to Johan’s. “But whatever those… things were, that killed him… I don’t know what to say about that. It all seems so…”
“Unnatural?”
Baelis nodded his head. “Aye, unnatural, strange. As are these bloody nightmares that we’ve been having. After all these years, you think we would have become indifferent to all this fucking death."
“Maybe we haven’t.”
“Maybe…” Baelis sighed in frustration. “…Damn it. I was starting to like him, too.”
“We all were. Well, perhaps all but Arnon.”
A sad chuckle escaped from Baelis’ mouth. “I wouldn’t say that. Did you see how he looked at Kerion afterward? Such dark gazes, they were. I’d say the boy was growing on him, too. ”
“I suppose so.” Johan allowed himself to smile.
Despite their losses from the expedition, he was glad Baelis had kept his sense of humor. What he had once cursed now seemed to be a beacon shining in the darkness. Perhaps there was a way out of this. It would just take time.
Baelis stood up from his seat. “Well, I wouldn’t dwell on these things for too long,” he said. “Remember, we’ve got a mission here. If we’re too busy moping around every death, then we won’t be ready for whatever’s coming. If we lose here, then Nova’s death, and every other death that follows, will be for naught.” He tapped beside his temple with a finger. “You’ve got to keep your head in the game.”
Johan remained silent, merely nodding his head in agreement.
“And besides, you’re a healer, are you not? Mourn them as you may, but don’t get lost in it. While they may be gone here, their souls have moved on to other places, better or worse, but you, especially, need to keep your head above the water. There will be more who need your help. Don’t drown.”
He was admittedly a little surprised about Baelis’ way with words, but he didn’t question it. They made sense, and he would have to abide by them if he hoped to be of any help in the battles to come.
“I’ll try not to,” he said with a smile.
“Good.” Baelis slapped him firmly on the shoulder, chuckling.
Their moment was made short by the arrival of a messenger, who announced that the both of them were to report to the training yard to participate in mandatory drills.
After the messenger had gone, they began walking there.
“Do you think old Brute will be in a good mood today?” Baelis kicked a loose pebble away.
Johan rose an eyebrow at him. “Old Brute is never in a good mood. Ever since we were trainees, he’s never gotten that stick out of his ass.”
Baelis roared in laughter as they were passing the gatehouse, which drew the attention of several nearby rangers. “Sorry,” he said to them sheepishly.
“Do mind yourself,” Johan warned. He hated any sort of attention being drawn to him that he didn't ask for.
“My humblest apologies, m’lord.” Baelis gave a courteous bow. “I shan’t be doing it again.”
He scoffed. “I’m no lord.”
“But you are, are you not? Or is that someone else I’m thinking of?” The swordsman stroked his chin as he contemplated.
Before Johan could answer, someone called out from the battlements. “Riders approaching!”
Samuel Hollett
Hundreds of hooves thundered down a beaten path toward Warhall, a castle that was presently occupied by the Sworn Brotherhood of the Green. Samuel couldn’t wait to be there. Warhall, in the flesh! Or, well, stone.
He had read all about the famous holdfast before coming here. Built by House Gendrel over a century ago, Warhall had been an answer to the so-called “Three Sisters,” an equally mighty trio of forts in the Xiona Pass recently finished by order of the King of Oriavang.
Purposed to defend the northern entrance of the Xiona Pass, Warhall had been among the greatest of castles in those days. Even the most battle-hardened Oriavang soldiers of King Seng II had failed to breach its mighty walls.
Made of hard, durable stone, it had been designed to be impervious to any frontal assault. Fitted with three layers of walls in total, they had been arranged in such a way that every section of the battlements had overlapping killing zones. Thus, there were no blind spots. Any man bold enough to charge forward was sure to be in the sights of an archer.
In addition, the castle was surrounded with a moat that could be flooded by diverting water from a river when necessary, and its inner layers were able to house granaries, and thus provide additional food to prolong resistance against an enemy siege. Despite all of its features, however, its original designers had likely never anticipated any attack from the sky.
Upon encountering the fortress during the Marchidium, Alderin the Great had wisely chosen not to storm it by force. Instead, within a mere day, he razed it to the ground with his dragon, Sovaedes.
After the war ended, the castle was then rebuilt and given to the Imperial Army for their own usage. Only a few weeks ago, however, the castle was suddenly granted to the Sworn Brotherhood of the Green by order of Emperor Aremos. Although he had not known why originally, Ser Vance had told Samuel all about it the day he received the message from the capital.
They had been charged with helping the Greencloaks accomplish their mission in the treacherous Bothic woodlands. Apparently, the rangers had made horrific discoveries of abandoned villages and monstrous creatures described as “violent” and “bloodthirsty.” There had even been a report of them seemingly rising from the dead.
Ser Vance had been skeptical, of course. “How cunning of them,” the knight had said, scowling. “They strut around like roosters, and all of a sudden they’re claiming that they’ve actually done something of use, just so the Emperor keeps filling their pockets a plenty.”
Thus, his master had been reluctant to leave their comfortable posting in Hildan, but alas, duty called. Assembling a force of one hundred soldiers on horseback, they rode out for Warhall the very next day. As they grew closer to their destination, more detachments from the Imperial Army joined them, swelling their ranks up to nearly three hundred riders.
The journey had been a long one, but Samuel dared not complain. In fact, he was rather giddy about getting to see Warhall for himself, with his very own eyes. It all seemed so exciting for him, as a young squire of fourteen years of age. He wondered what glorious adventures awaited.
Turning to his master, he couldn’t resist saying it, as he had a hundred times before. “Are we there yet?”
The knight turned to him, a mildly perturbed look on his face.
“Damn it, boy, how many times have I got to tell you?”
Samuel hadn't bothered to count. Was he sorry for it? Not really.
“As many times as it takes until we get there, Ser,” he replied rather snidely.
The knight sneered at his answer, but Samuel could see the smirk forming beneath his dark beard. “Mind your tongue, boy. You’re talking to a lord.”
“Am I? Or am I really talking to a piss drunkard who only knows how to flail about with his stupid hammer?”
“Not a wise move to piss off the man who’s in charge of you, boy.” Ser Vance took a long swig from his flask, no doubt filled to the brim with some sort of wine or ale. He let the excess liquid flow down his beard and onto his breastplate.
“You’re spilling,” Samuel pointed out.
Ser Vance shot him a nasty glare. “You think I don’t know?” He scoffed as he took out a handkerchief to wipe his armor clean.
“Look, there it is!”
“What?” Ser Vance turned his gaze forward.
The boy had a massive grin across his face as he caught sight of Warhall’s towering walls. He already felt like he was on the verge of just jumping off and flying there.
“We’re finally here!”
“Yes, now hold on just a—“
Samuel took off on his horse, racing ahead of their column. Ser Vance shouted after him, but he didn’t care to hear. Laughing joyously, he embraced the wind beating against his face and let his hair flow freely.
A horn blew from behind him as he approached the gate, likely heralding his arrival. Stopping his horse behind the moat, he looked up and was at once awestruck by the sheer size of the castle itself. What must have been a hundred banners bearing the winged crest of the Brotherhood of the Green lined the battlements. As the son of a humble blacksmith, it was truly a magnificent sight for him. This was something that he had never seen before. Nothing could even come close. Even the garrisons of the Imperial Army were like mice when compared to the grandeur of Warhall.
“…Incredible,” he uttered, his eyes glistening like stars.
A loud voice from above made him flinch. “Who goes there?” a ranger shouted.
Caught unawares, Samuel stood up as tall as he could, but alas caught himself stuttering horribly as he tried to cough out an answer. “S-samuel, good ser!”
The ranger pulled himself back behind the battlements. After a moment of silence, his head reappeared, a look of utter confusion on his face. “Aye, and who the fuck is that?”
He felt his ears flare up in utter embarrassment as the Greencloaks laughed above. All confidence had crumbled.
“S-samuel Hollett, good ser!” he shouted. “The esteemed esquire of Ser Vance Otto!”
The rangers erupted in laughter again. They were probably keeling over at how stupid he sounded. Why, oh why, did I have to say it like that?
That was when his master caught up to him on horseback, along with a few of his officers. Thundering his way next to Samuel, he dragged him back by the shoulder and presented himself to the Greencloaks instead.
“I am Ser Vance Otto, commander of the Bothic Legion, and loyal servant to the Emperor, Aremos Arathan!” he shouted. “We have come under orders to reinforce your numbers, as promised by His Eminence.”
The ranger went behind the battlements again. They dared not laugh this time. “Open the gates!”
Samuel turned to face Ser Vance, who was shooting him another nasty look. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said.
“…Sorry.” The boy lowered his head in shame.
“Come on, let’s go.” When the gates were opened, Ser Vance rode inside, with Samuel and the officers following after him.
A Greencloak was there to greet them when they entered. “Welcome to Warhall,” he said with a bow.
“Thank you,” the knight answered. “Take us to Commander Leopold.”
“Right this way, ser.” Turning around, the Greencloak led them deeper inside, toward the third layer of Warhall, where the main keep was housed.
Kerion Vorna
The meeting hall was packed and energetically buzzed with life. He could barely hear his conversation with a fellow captain over the uproar of chattering and laughter.
“What did you say, Zeke?” Kerion practically had to shout.
“Never mind what I said, look! They’re here.” He pointed toward the entrance, where a pair of heavy wooden doors were being opened.
Silence filled the room as all eyes turned to face the newcomers. Clad in handsome-looking suits of armor, there were ten of them in total. The shortest among them seemed to be the youngest, perhaps no older than fifteen. His youthful face had a giddy sense of excitement about it.
Striding across the length of the room, the tallest knight, big and bold, and with a fearsome-looking beard, led them toward the captains’ table, where the highest ranking Greencloaks in Warhall, including Kerion, were sat. They stopped just short of where Commander Leopold was, right in the middle.
“I take it you are Commander Leopold?” The knight asked, his voice rough with a tint of grit.
Leopold rose from his seat. “I am,” he answered. “And you must be the esteemed Ser Vance Otto. Welcome to Warhall.”
Ser Vance gave him a courteous smile. “Thank you,” he said. “Now, can we sit? Long journey. Back's been aching all day.”
“Of course. Your men may sit there, where spots have been reserved.” The commander gestured to a nearby empty table. “You, Ser Vance, may join us up here at the captains’ table, if you so wish.”
“Thank you, but I prefer to sit with my men.”
Leopold nodded. ”As you wish, ser.”
After the men in armor were seated and given drinks, the commander commenced their meeting.
“We have all gathered here today to lay down our strategy going forward,” he announced. “First order of business, the scouts have returned from their mission in the Bothic. Captain Zekiel will deliver his report.”
Nodding to him, the commander took a seat.
Zeke rose from his chair beside Kerion and stood up, clearing his throat. “Some time after the return of Captain Kerion and his men, two hundred of us were tasked by the commander to conduct reconnaissance to search the villages. If we were to encounter any hostile force, we were to capture them if we could. If not, they were to be eliminated instead. However, upon searching every known village, including Ingrid, we were unable to find anything. There was not a single soul in sight.”
Kerion furrowed his brows in a mix of confusion and surprise. Some of the men assembled whispered to each other.
Among those seated at the high table, the silver-haired Captain Sullivan stood up. “Captain Zekiel, I must confirm,” his coarse, wheezy voice said. “Are you saying that your men were unable to find any signs of life?”
“That is correct, Captain Sullivan.” Zeke’s voice was a calm one. “Not a single soul in sight, as I said.”
“Every known village and homestead?”
“Yes, ser.”
The hall muttered amongst each other once more.
“My brothers in arms!” The towering Captain Piercing stood as he shouted. At once, the room was silenced as all eyes turned on to him. His sunken eyes looked out into the crowd. “I have always been a skeptic of these reports, and even now, my doubt persists, and for good reason. Tell me, are we truly to believe in these conjured tales of flesh-eating, half-dead monsters lurking about in the woods?”
Some of the officers shouted in agreement, but there were also many who voiced their opposition to Piercing.
“What I said is true, Captain Piercing,” Kerion said. “We were set upon by such creatures, and… lost one of our own.” He thought back to Nova.
Piercing turned to face Kerion, his expression a skeptical one. He clasped his hands behind his back, sauntering toward him. “Yet, we lack solid, physical proof. You claimed that the boy had been buried deep in the woods. You are about as green as grass, Kerion. Perhaps, your first command was so butchered in such a pathetic way that you hoped to cover it up with a splendid story of false, stolen valor against an imaginary foe.”
Not willing to take it from the likes of this oaf, Kerion stood up to face Piercing. Before he could say anything, however, the crowd erupted in argument, bickering amongst themselves about who was right. The sound was deafening, and it was like a war had just started.
Sullivan’s voice bellowed throughout the hall as he stood up. “Silence!” he screamed.
Settling down once again, the lesser officers slowly returned to their seats.
“Captain Piercing, now is not a time to be throwing such wild accusations against your fellow comrade,” said Captain Levi, who had remained quiet in the shadows until now. He was calmly sitting beside Leopold's righthand side as his striking blue eyes stared up into Piercing’s.
“But they are falsehoods,” he protested. “No man should die over such feckless beliefs.”
“Oh?” Levi leaned an elbow against the table. “Since you are so convinced about the falsehood of Captain Kerion’s report… Why don’t you go out there yourself to prove it? Why don’t you accompany us the next time we ride out there? Let’s find out if they’re true or not.”
Piercing’s bold attitude flickered for a moment, but he managed to maintain his composure in the face of Levi’s browbeating. “…Perhaps I will,” he answered.
“Good, I look forward to it. Now, have a seat.”
Speechless, the captain returned to his spot and sat back down.
Nodding to Levi, Leopold stood up once more. “The plan will be as such: continue sending out scouting missions in order to procure answers to any questions that we may have. We will find out where the villagers have gone, and we will try to confirm the existence of these hostile creatures that Captain Kerion spoke of.”
Ser Vance raised his hand. “If I may, commander.”
Leopold acknowledged him. "Ser Vance." Granting him the floor, he eased back into his chair.
“I must ask, have the scouts searched the entirety of the Bothic?”
“No,” Zeke answered. “We never went beyond the charted regions, which only amount to a ring around the Bothic itself. With Kerion’s reports to consider, we deemed it much too dangerous at the time to go beyond. But, with reinforcements having arrived from both the Imperial Army and other Greencloak outposts, we now have the proper numbers to expand our reach within the Bothic.”
"I see." Ser Vance nodded in approval.
“So, the plan will be to send out several detachments of scouts to begin the process of charting these unknown regions,” Leopold said. “Whatever is lurking in there, we must find and capture, or exterminate if necessary.”
Turning to the wall behind him, he unfurled a large map of the Bothic for all to see, featuring the ring of charted regions that surrounded the unknown ones.
“Levi, Zeke, Piercing, and Kerion, the four of you will lead scouting expeditions from the east of the Bothic.” He pointed to where Warhall was located. “Meanwhile, from our northern, western, and southern outposts, we will also have rangers sent on missions to scour as much of the Bothic as we can.”
“Our primary objectives will be to find the missing villagers and solve the mystery behind their disappearance. Any proof of the existence of these dreaded creatures that have been supposedly encountered will also be searched for. If we do end up finding them, then rest assured, they will be utterly destroyed. Once we have assigned your companies, then your company commander will brief you one last time before you depart. Are there any questions?”
Ser Vance raised his hand once again.
“Yes, Ser Vance.”
Clearing his throat, the knight glanced at the map. “What role are my men and I to play in this?”
“Your forces will bolster the garrison at Warhall, in case anything happens here.”
This clearly did not appease the Imperial officers, who muttered amongst themselves in disgruntlement. The commander was quick to adapt, changing his stance.
“But if your men wish to volunteer to join us, then they may do so, as well.”
“So be it,” said Ser Vance.
Standing, Leopold took up his tankard and raised it high. Following his example, everyone else did so as well, including the Imperials.
“In two weeks time, we will commence the operation,” he declared. “For the Brotherhood!”
“For the Brotherhood!”
