Kingdom of Loradel, Owlen Forest, Present Day.
The horizon was a deep shade of orange, the sun cowered behind the northern mountains, signaling the dawn of a new day.
Xeto walked the narrow dirt path as he rubbed at his neck in hopes of easing a minor pain at his nape caused by the constant walking in the few days. This was not what he thought he would be doing after being promoted to Knight-Commander. A year's service as a scout for the kingdom of Loradel and the highest demon kill count in the region seemingly meant nothing to the higher ups. His palm rested on his blade's hilt, fidgeting with the pommel. He ran eyes across every tree, shrub and bush that surrounded the road for any evidence of disturbance. No avail. With the backside of his fist, he knocked on the bark of the nearest tree. "Rebecca, anything?"
"Looks clear," called out his companion from the tree above. "Another empty scouting job, huh?" The thick canopy of leaves hid her from view, though her chirpy voice cut through with ease. Thin branches fell as she moved through the green maze of hedging.
Xeto sighed. "Alright then let's get moving. No point in wasting our time here."
"Aye, sir." His lieutenant lifted a cloud of dirt as she landed beside him. Her short stone-colored hair was lifted by a passing wind. She looked up at him before taking a bite from an unknown fruit. "Mmm. Want one, Commander?" She presented another one of the foreign fruits in her palm as she chewed with a smile.
The apple-sized pod had a soft mushroom-like texture, but an uninviting velvet fuzz on its outer layer.
"What is that?" he replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Not fully aware—but it tastes good." The fruit's juices trickled down the side of her small round lips. Small droplets were absorbed by the blue shawl that hung over her leather vest and long-sleeved olive tunic. Blue wasn't the dye many would assume a sniper like her would wear due to it standing out against the color of vegetation. And many would be right to assume so, if what they were hunting were humans. Luckily the eyes of demons were based on movement and heat rather hue, meaning they could see next to no color. A fact that Rebecca loved—as she had many times stated since it was her favorite and wore it any time she could.
Xeto shook his head lightly. "I'm not hungry."
"Don't be so wary," she teased. "If it's poisonous—least we'll end it with a good meal. Here." She tossed it to him.
Xeto kept his hands on his sides, letting it bounce off his black iron chest plate, bursting as it hit the floor.
The dirt turned to mud as it absorbed the velvet moisture.
Rebecca's emerald eyes were glossy, as if she was close to tears. "That there was a crime. You're not very adventurous, Commander." She pouted before taking another bite of her own meal, her mouth full. "Your loss." She tightened the strap of the sniper that hung off her back, its blue steel shined bright in the sunlight. It was yet another example of her favorite hue showing.
Xeto beckoned her to follow as he continued down the path. A ting of guilt pierced his thoughts as her words echoed themselves in thought. Was he really such a stone, or were others simply too carefree? He knew many people like his lieutenant; joyful, and almost always wearing a smile, no matter the situation. But he never understood the reason. Why bother with jests and acting out of the ordinary for the sake of remaining entertained? They were on a job, doing such things would only increase the likeliness of them falling into danger because of their unawareness.
"Feeling guilty for letting that treat go to waste, huh?" she pestered, as if reading his thoughts.
"No," he lied. "Focus, Rebecca."
She ran ahead of his path, her blue shawl flowed freely in the wind. She chuckled and turned to face him, pacing backwards. "Commander, we rarely get any time to rest between jobs. We've been away and on the road for well over a week now with nothing to show for it. Demons are a rarity as it stands—more so since we're within the border. We've cleaned up the everything on the northern edge, not many others back at the outpost can say the same. We should be doing more than investigating simple complaints."
He paused on the thought and nodded. She was right on that behalf, he was tired of being used like a common foot soldier when he was capable of so much more. Soldiers of his rank would normally traverse outside of the kingdom's borders, hunting down the beasts and eliminating them on their own ground. Though he felt it best not to voice his thoughts, there was no point in complaining as it would amount to nothing. "I suppose you're right. But someone has to do these jobs."
Rebecca put up a countering finger. "Someone also has to clean out the camp's chamber pots too, you going to volunteer us for that too?" She waved her hand in front of him in response to his silence. "Come on, smile. That one was a well-baked jest."
He couldn't deny her a grin. Her being one of the only few that could say something to get a curve from his lip. Even so, not often. He let out a hesitant chuckle. "I didn't volunteer us for this job, it was the only one available that wasn't chained to being in the outpost, thought we'd at least get to leave the border."
"Look at that, you can smile." She turned and matched his pace so that they were shoulder to shoulder. "If I had the choice…I'd rather be back at the outpost right now." Her shoulders slumped; her eyes locked on hard dirt.
"Why's that?" he asked, regardless of partly knowing the answer.
Her voice was almost a whisper now. "More and more refugees every other day. They no doubt walk for days just to reach our station—and only to find out it's no better than the homes they left behind. They have our protection there, but supplies are getting harder to attain these days. I want to use my time caring for them there. At the very least I would hope the kingdom would spare some more provisions to help. I can't imagine how it must be to be forced out of your home."
"Loradel has its hands full with the war—"
"It's not a war," Rebecca aimed to correct. "It's just," her gaze fell, struggling to find the right words, no doubt. "Times are confusing."
The Kingdom had been struggling with keeping a large portion of its people under rule, many stood against the crown for generations. Open rebellion, Xeto classified that as a Civil War, but didn't want to voice it aloud to simply spare his lieutenant's optimism. Unfortunately, his encounters with the anti-crowns soured his look on their beliefs, enough so that his displease managed to reach his lips. "Easy choice, really." Annoyed by the thoughts of adults acting like children and wanting 'freedom' when they already had it irked him further. "The kingdom brings satiability; those lawless idiots want nothing more than what they already have.
Rebecca gave a hesitant nod. "You could be right. But I think it's hard to choose a side when there's infighting. Like fighting amongst a family, no definite wrong answer. In the end, just like the demon attacks, the bystanders are often the ones that suffer."
Xeto gulped stiffly, feeling a sudden guilt for lowering her morale. Her words awakened the memories of his time as a refugee. His chest felt heavy just as it did then in his youth. Living a life on the road alongside his elder brother, Roxas. Having to continue onward not knowing what lied ahead. Unaware if they would eat that day. Unaware if they would spend the night on straw, stone, or simply dirt. Not knowing if they would have to walk through the night to reach the next safe destination. Roxas always said it was best to remain on the road, having no home meant one less thing to lose and maintain. At the age of nineteen he took jobs as a sword-for-hire and left simpler tasks like being a farmhand, to Xeto. In exchange they got either shelter or coin, which was more than enough. "You always did your best to take of us," he mumbled.
"What was that, Commander?"
Xeto snapped back as he realized he had voiced his thoughts aloud. "Nothing."
"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." Regret lined her voice.
He remained at a loss of words.
"I know you have your reasons for not sharing your past, Commander. Sorry for—"
"Don't worry yourself," he blurted. Something gnawed at him, forcing him to fashion a way to get a smile back on her face. "Say, after this job, I'll treat you to a tankard—maybe help some of the refugees find new homes in nearby villages that can spare it."
Rebecca's smile returned, as did her lightweight tone. "Thanks, Commander." She raised an eyebrow. "A tankard huh? Hopefully something strong enough to render us blind. A bit over half a year under your command and I've never seen you drink. It'll be a joy to see you drunk."
Xeto shook his head. "Pull those reigns back, I never said I would get drunk."
Rebecca let out a confident oh. "Scared I'd outdo you?" She had her arms out as if painting on an invisible canvas. "Xeto Alcazar, moniker: The Wolf in Black Armor. The holder of some of the most honorable badges given to the Demon-Hunt, youngest hunter gifted the rank of 'Commander'. Alas, he's a milk-drinker—scared to a wine tourney against a maiden."
To Xeto's own surprise, he smiled once more. His grip on his hilt loosened. Perhaps she was right, just a little bit of respite wouldn't hurt, even for just a moment. He was suddenly plagued with the same ill thoughts and memories that always came flooding back to him anytime his mind was free of desolation. The faces of the ones he'd lost. He asked himself the same question that was aimed for Rebecca. Why do you choose to follow me… knowing what happened? He felt that one day he would voice his curiosity, though today wasn't that day.
"Here we are," said Rebecca as they stood at the center of where two dirt paths intersected. "What are the details of the complaint again?"
Dirt crunched under Xeto's boots as he came to a halt. "Nothing solid, just that some travelers and merchants had gone missing around this area."
"Orders?"
He pointed into a thicket just off the road. "Check the forest for any signs of demon activity. You know what we're looking for."
"Aye, sir." Her attitude quickly morphed from lighthearted to one of seriousness. She unholstered one of two elegantly-crafted revolvers that rested in a holster on her lower back. It glistened as she spun the cylinder, assuring every chamber held a bullet. The hammer clicked into place as she pulled it back.
Xeto's hand instinctively found its way back on his sword's hilt. "Don't tread too deep."
She confirmed his order with a nod before walking off.
The surrounding forest appeared the same from all sides. A few large stones that wore blankets of moss, trees with cobwebs tied within the branches, and bushes that were dead or dying.
Xeto stepped over the shrubbery, heading in the opposite direction from his lieutenant. Dried bushes scraped against his boots and legs the further he walked, making him more appreciative that he wore full body armor. Seconds turned to minutes as he paced around the maze of trees looking for any signs of disturbance. It could have been anything from dried blood, claw marks, broken twigs or disturbed soil. But to his dismay, there were none. A part of him welcomed the idea that there weren't demons within the kingdom's border. Yet a slight pit of emptiness formed in his chest. It was almost like a hunger, a hunger to swing his blade once more. It had been weeks since he had the chance to wet his sword, enough so that even unsheathing it felt foreign at times. He shrugged to no one in particular. Maybe Rebecca had found something. He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a short whistle.
Not three seconds had passed before another two-part whistle pierced the air in the distance.
Xeto recognized the chirp. It was Rebecca's response that meant no threat, or in this instance, no signs of demons. He made his way back onto the lifeless road.
Rebecca appeared from behind a tree and shrugged. She held a bundle of velvet berries in her palm. She eyed them hungrily.
He frowned. "Please don't put those anywhere near your mouth."
"They're just snowbush berries." She paused as she looked at them once more. "Or they could be Venomous Kulags."
Xeto shook his head, eager to show his distrust.
She scoffed. "Fine." She tossed the berries back into the shrubbery. Her focus returned. "So, anything?"
"Nothing."
"Any ideas?"
"Some." He put a hand on his chin. Demons were no different than wild animals, they left traces behind. Seeing as nothing presented itself, it was likely that they were looking for human culprits.
Rebecca's soft gaze remained locked on his, unblinking as she patiently waited for a response.
Xeto broke away and started down the path once more. "My guess is bandits."
"If it was, that's a job not of our purse. Let a city watch or mercenaries handle it."
"I expected you of all people to be more enthusiastic about this."
"I care about the safety of others. But we can't go about tracking bandits when we have our own seeds to sow. Moon rises, sun sleeps, as they say."
"Don't think we could?" replied Xeto, with a hint of smugness.
With her hands on her waist, she pouted. "Of course we could. But think about it, with all of the refugees and rumors of demon attacks, how is it we've encountered next to nothing out here?"
Xeto nodded in acknowledgement. Just like her, he had a bagful of questions, though he didn't trouble himself with them as he knew he wasn't going to get the answers anytime soon. He squinted at something in the distance, a closer look revealed a structure.
A building appeared on the side of the road ahead. It was nearly overtaken by the surrounding trees, all but the entrance at least. It had no distinctive values; hay roof, grey stone walls painted green with moss, and door looked like it would topple down with a gentle breeze. An old carving above the door read The Widow's Lodge.
"An inn all the way out here?" said Xeto.
The building was riddled with cracks, and the windows were fogged with dust. It seemed like the elements and the owner himself had not been kind to it.
Rebecca crossed her arms. "Reminds me of my uncle Benjin's home."
Xeto looked down at her. "How so?"
"Simply looking at it makes me want to bathe." Her eyes focused on the ruin-like building as her nose wrinkled. "You could promise me endless riches and I still wouldn't spend the night here."
Xeto sighed. Another luxury they didn't have at the moment. Sleeping indoors. "Perhaps the owner has some insight on the disappearances." He motioned her to follow.
"By your orders, Commander," she said unamused.
The stench of ale assaulted his senses as he opened the door.
The inn was as expected, a large room filled with grime-infested tables and stools that looked like they were made by an infant-woodcrafter. At a table a burly man cradled his head in one hand, and with the other, ran his finger along the rim of a tankard. At the opposite corner was a skinny man whose snores echoed across the room; a lute rested on his stained trousers.
Rebecca's eyes watered from the stench. She pulled her cloak over her nose. "Gods forbid they open a window. I hate the smell of cardnel ale."
"Oi! What's all this blabber now?" The voice came from a fat woman behind counter at the end of the room. Her apron was covered in stains and her hair was as untidy as a sparrow's nest.
I expected nothing less. Xeto put on his mask of aptness. "Apologies." He cleared his throat. "She meant no disrespect." He closed in on the counter and planted his hand on its surface, instantly regretting it as he felt a warm slime coat his glove. "Are you the hostess of this inn?" he asked, while shaking the filth from his hand.
The woman picked up a tankard from the counter and began to wipe at it with a grimy tarp. "Bet your runes I am. Name's Turla. And that good-for-nothing over there is my husband, Benurd." She bobbed her head toward the burly man at the table.
"Husband?" asked Rebecca. "But your inn is named The widow's—"
"I know what it's called. The way that lard drinks…I soon will be a widow." She propped herself forward. "Ya hear me, you fat hunk of shite! You're going to drink yourself into an early grave!"
The man remained in a half-sleep daze while drooling on his hand.
Xeto fidgeted with the hilt of his blade, avoiding eye contact with the woman.
Rebecca snickered. "He'd be doing himself a favor," she whispered.
"Ah, you never listen to me anyhow." Turla returned her focus to the knights. "So, what is it ya two need? Lodging? For pairs it's twenty silvers for the night." She eyed him down. "Try not to break my beds, will ya?" She turned to Rebecca. "Oh—and no moaning like it's the best you ever had. The last youth I had squealed like a dying—"
Xeto's face grew warm. "No! No. We're not here for uh…that."
Rebecca snickered once more at the sight of his flushed face.
He cleared his throat. "We're knights from the Lunodio outpost back south. My name is Xeto Alcazar, Commander of Direwolf, a Demon-Hunt unit." He held a hand out to his lieutenant. "This is Rebecca Orvein, my second. We caught wind that there have been recent disappearances around here."
Turla leaned closer, enhancing the stench of ale.
Xeto held his breath, trying not to gag at the smell.
"Awfully young to be hunters, aye? Bet you're a happy lad, get a young thing like her—jump on her anytime you feel the need." Her eyes landed on Rebecca's revolvers before waving off her previous comment. "Never mind it. Well, recently some merchants traveling from Viofell came by not long ago claiming to have been attacked by some monsters. They even wanted a night free of charge—said they lost their coin, ya believe that? Cheap dirt-worths. And merely yesterday, Tonnel was found dead by some merchants just up road."
"Tonnel?" echoed Xeto.
"Ya, Tonnel. Good ol' Dirt-Eating Tonnel, a regular of mine. Though ya must think me a fool if you expect me to believe some folklore monsters did it." She chuckled. "That man drank ale like it was water. Just drowned in his bottle if ya ask me." She smacked her lips. "'Tis a shame though. He was good for the money. He once—"
"When did the claims of the attacks start?" interrupted Xeto. Had he not, she'd go on to share her life's story, no doubt.
She rubbed at her temple. "My guess is a week or so ago." Her eyes suddenly burst with annoyance, looking past him. "Aye! Don't touch that!" Turla pointed her sausage of a finger to Rebecca who stood at the end of the counter, a gilded gold sphere in her hand.
"What is this?" asked Rebecca, seeming lost in its radiant shine and odd markings.
"Nothing of yours." Turla leaned over the counter and snatched it.
Rebecca reached out but quickly pulled her hand back. Her gazed locked on the orb like a child whose toy was just taken away. "I…never mind." She shook her head at a loss for words.
Xeto raised an eyebrow, taking hold of his blade. "What is that?" he repeated.
"Some relic, suppose," answered Turla as she held it close.
"Where did you get it?
"Benurd found it."
Rebecca suddenly stiffened. "Wait. When did he find it?" She said before Xeto had the chance to ask the same question.
"Within the week, twelve or so days."
Rebecaa put out an open palm. "Can I examine it? Maybe it has a connection to the deaths."
Turla quickly pulled away with both hands cupped around it. She snarled. "You sound mad, slattern." This is a solid piece of steel and it's going to buy me a way out of this filth."
Rebecca shot her a glare. Not an expression she'd often show. "There's a high chance that the disappearances are linked to that relic." She pointed a rigid finger at it.
Xeto wanted to disagree, but the finding of the relic aligning with deaths was surely no coincidence.
Turla gritted her teeth. "There's always bandit raids up north. Sometimes loads of my ingredients get snatched. Where is the Kingdom of Loradel then, huh? But suddenly I have a something with value and here you are."
Where is this coming from? The woman must have had stored feelings against the kingdom long before now. Xeto stepped between them. "We're not here for missing ingredients, we're here to put an end to whatever it is causing people to vanish into the wind. Bloody or otherwise—"
She cradled the orb closer to her chest. "Out with ya two. Never needed the kingdom's help before and I don't need it now."
Droplets of sweat formed on Xeto's palms. The threat of a headache wasn't far. "How about a barter? Fifty silvers?"
The large woman clenched her teeth as she eyed him up and down. "What do ya take me for? Fifty silver is dirt these days."
He mirrored her glare. "I won't go any higher. And honestly, you're fortunate I'm not simply taking it from you. I have no interest in coin…just the protection of the populace."
"Ya don't know how life is out here!" Her voice echoed throughout the room. "Ya don't have the—"
There was a thundering blast as the entrance window shattered into pieces.
Xeto quickly covered himself from the incoming glass, his heartbeats rising to a racing pace.
Rebecca ducked behind him.
Sunlight poured into the building, flushing out the darkness. The bard from before was now wide awake. Eyes full of shock as he clutched his lute tightly.
Xeto pulled his sword from its sheath. His mouth went dry when saw what had caused the hail of shards.
On the other side of the opening was a monstrosity, a being that looked like a hybrid of man and titan. The hulking figure wore shattered tidbits of armor and torn rags. Its face was covered by a black stitched executioner's hood. It held up its weapon, an axe three times larger than the size of man. At the end of its handle was two large curved spikes.
"The demons have come!" Turla held up her shaking hands, dropping the orb to the ground. "Oh, gods please no!"
Rebecca was on her feet in seconds. Magicarm revolver drawn, she began firing.
Though the demon seemed unfazed by the four bullets that buried into its neck and arms.
Xeto stood firm, tightening his grip on his blade. He turned to the others and through the sound of bullets, he yelled. "All of you, get out of here!"
Suddenly the beast vanished into the air, gone like the wind. Only flakes of ash remained where it once stood.
What in solitude just happened?
A deep growl came from behind them.
His heart froze over as he arched his head back to find the beast now inside the building.
It took hold of Rebecca, lifting her by her neck.
She gagged aloud before training her revolver at the beast's head. She fired.
Its cranium jutted back from the blow, groaning. It growled before tossing his lieutenant through the tavern's remaining window. Another flood of light as it shattered.
There was a loud thump as Rebecca landed out of view outside.
"Rebecca!" Xeto's cries were cut short as the demon hacked horizontally with its axe. He ducked just in time to dodge the rusted steel.
The demon's eye was now visible, a red glowing light emerged from where Rebecca landed the shot.
Xeto backstepped in attempts to maintain his distance. He focused on the incoming brute, its lifeless glare sending a shrill down his spine. There was no way he could get close enough, not with that axe in play. What is this thing? A demon? If he had to keep his distance, then he only had one option available, his aura; magic. He exhaled, forming a black crystal that floated above his palm.
The demon shook the building as it stomped towards him.
Xeto swung his arm, shooting the sharpened crystal forward. It dug into the demon's neck with a small splat of blood and no further resolve.
Within a second it was upon him. Its cold hand gripped him by the throat and lifted him from the ground.
The pressure was like that of a frozen-over noose. He gasped for what little air he could as he swung his blade across the beast's arm.
Thuuume! A miracle came as a bullet hit its forearm. A geyser of crimson burst from the point of impact.
The pressure around his neck dissipated as he tumbled into the sea of splinters at his feet.
The demon let out a vicious growl, reminiscent of anger rather than pain. It looked down, towering above him like a storm cloud. It jerked its head toward its assailant.
A fresh cut decorated Rebecca's lip as she stood at the entrance, rifle at the ready. "Commander!?"
The beast took no second for granted before trudging toward its new target, chairs and tables reduced to chips under its weight.
No! Xeto's tongue went numb. He gritted his teeth as he got back to his feet. In seconds, black particles of aura wrapped around the black steel of his sword, encasing it in a dark violet crystal. "Damn demon…"
Thuuume! Thuuume! Two more shots from Rebecca made the beast tumble a step back.
This was his chance. Closing in, he thrusted his blade forward. To his dismay, it ricocheted off of the beast's back, like steel against stone.
"What?" Xeto's eyes widened. Why didn't it pierce? Aura was a natural counter against demon flesh and low-grade armors, yet it failed in even leaving a scrape on the rotted skin.
Ignoring him, the demon continued for his lieutenant. It readied its axe, forcing her into a corner.
No! He refused to let another under his command to die so brutally. He tried piercing the beast a second time only to be given the same result.
The demon brought its axe down, ripping the air with the rusted steel.
His heart halted, expecting a show of blood. A second came and passed. He blinked rapidly. Nothing.
The demon had stopped its blade inches away from Rebecca and had its gaze focused on the ground.
Rebecca took the opportunity and slid underneath it and to its side. She rolled a few feet away and pulled the bolt of her sniper, loading another round into the chamber before firing. It landed successfully where the demon's cheek should have been.
No reaction. Not even a groan. Its blood dripped onto the wood.
Xeto now noticed what the demon had its eye locked on.
On the ground was the gold orb, coated in a layer of dust.
The beast knelt down, its armor clanking aloud. A cloud of ash formed around it as it took hold of the sphere. In a blink, the cloud was gone, and with it, the demon.