The smell of long burnt wood and flesh penetrated our noses. After a two day ride, we had reached the first village to be razed to the ground on our way to Westbrook. Ash billowed underneath hoof, wheel, and paw as we made our way through the center street of Whitford. Decrepit charred stalls lined either side of the street as the remains of buildings stood forever in time. I watched the remains of what looked to be an Inn crumble from the slight breeze as we went by. The once prosperous town was now a tomb to be forgotten just like the others.
Whitford was always one of my favorite places to stay when I traveled this far south. It was much like Siegfried with a calm demeanor about it. Bakeries baked pies and any sweet possibly while the sounds of blacksmiths working filled the streets. The town was rich in gold from the nearby mine which has long since been excavated for what was left of the sparkling ore. I remembered the brawls I had in the tavern with some drunken locals as we went by the remnants of the place. The Stumpy Wesel was one of my favorite watering holes to acquire information as I drank.
[(Wonder if the ale is still there?)]
Nyxis tapped my shoulder and pointed out something ahead that I didn't take notice of before. Following her finger, I saw the area picked by the culprits of such a tragedy chose to finish their work. In a small clearing, remnants of large wooden poles towered with piles of charred wood underneath. Skeletal remains of three unlucky souls still stood with their mouths agape screaming for their pain to end. Blood dyed the soil itself around beheaded corpses that were bound by their wrists and ankles like prisoners. More corpses strewn the clearing that died in more gruesome manners reserved for murders. The town of Whitford had become nothing but a mass grave for its residents. A place devoid of all life except the carrion birds…or so I thought.
Zeke spoke as he urged his horse to walk beside me, "Jackal, up ahead. Someone is standing by the well."
Following his gaze, I saw the lone figure standing at the remnants of the now overgrown well where the coldest water resided. Though we were some distance still, I could make out a few details. The figure looked to be a man dressed in tattered handmade clothing of burlap sacks and worn out rope. A torn black cloak was draped over his shoulders as he clutched a stick in his left hand. His bare feet shivered against the cold grass around the well.
As we neared, I noticed that the man's long hair was unkempt and covered in filth from prolonged absence of bathing. Like his hair, the man's beard was a mass of knots in desperate need of brushing. The parts of his body uncovered by protective clothing were covered by thick layers of dirt. Multiple bleeding scars covered the man's arms and hands that looked to be freshly made. Upon closer inspection, I took note of the man's clear eyes devoid of light.
[(The man's blind!)]
I watched as the man reached out toward us as we came to a stop. The man spoke In a rough voice filled with coughs, "Is that you Gertrude? Have you finally come home, my dear?"
I watched as the man stumbled forward as the rattle of chain penetrated the still air. The vagabond fell to his knees as tears flowed down his dirt caked cheeks, "Please say something Gertrude! I-I want to hear your voice once more. Please, don't leave me all alone again."
Sighing, I climbed from Orion's back and knelt beside the man as I reached into Penumbra. I pulled one of Momma Joan's meat pies wrapped in pickled cabbage and handed it to the man. "Here old one, take this and eat."
I placed the food in the man's hand and helped him unravel the cabbage. As he ate, the man spoke about how his daughter placed him in the cellar of their home and left him on the premise that she would return with her mother. Minutes turned to hours as he waited for his wife and child. He described hearing commanding shouts ordering the search of every house. The sounds of the floorboards creaking with each heavy step sending dust into his face. The horrifying screams that filled the air as the smell of burning meat filled his nose. The shouts of laughter at pleading neighbors prolonging their inevitable deaths.
The man stared blankly into my eyes as he asked a question that I wish I could have answered better, "Have you seen my daughter or my wife, kind sir?"
After a moment, the man spoke again with a voice full of sorrow, "I may be blind, but I ain't stupid. I'm just too stubborn to come to terms that they no longer live," tears flowed down the man's cheeks once more, "I knew they both were gone when Gertrude never came back."
The man grabbed hold of my hand as he laid his head on my shoulder and wept. "I knew I'd never see them again. Please kind sir, I…I don't want to be left alone without them. I want to walk by their side once more."
[(There was no magic in the world that would heal such a pain.)]
Before I could draw a blade and end the man's suffering, I heard a faint whistle coming toward us. I watched as an arrow sunk deep into his throat with enough force to topple him into the well and into the darkness below. Sighing, I stood up as the others took up defensive positions around the princess. Within seconds, we were surrounded by bandits with no available opportunity to escape. I looked toward the man dressed in finer armor that stood on top of a pile of charred boxes who seemed to be in charge and recognized him from Siegfried. I watched as Ronald stalked toward the front of his men. I couldn't help but gaze upon his missing limb that he had replaced with a gauntlet blade strapped to his wrist.
He looked toward me with a smirk that some children would get when they thought they couldn't be beat. Ronald laughed, "Well, well, well…if it isn't the Ghost of Siegfried. Aren't you quite away from your home?"
Wiping the spit from his mouth, Ronald just stared at me as if I was supposed to be frightened like a little babe, "Sorry to interrupt your little chat, but the old vagabond was in the way. Don't worry, you'll be joining 'em soon."
I didn't say anything as I stared toward the sky bored from this conversation already which made some of the armed bandits question my sanity. I had always hated it when people seeking my death would go into some monologue like an unheard of actor. Though I will admit, I did enjoy the faces they would always make at my ignorance. They always reminded me of my Nana who always had pouty lips and cheeks just as Ronald did now. Their eyes filled with shock as they were run through by my blade.
"You did me a favor or two actually," I casually muttered looking off into the distant trees where I saw movement, "the first was killing the man so I didn't have too."
Ronald just glared at me as he spoke, "What is the second?"
His voice had a somewhat unease to it when seeds of desperation and fear began to be sowed. I sensed that I had destroyed every shred of bravado he had stored with a simple sentence. It dampened even more as I just smiled as I made my way to stand a few feet in front of the others. My hands rested at my sides as I just stared into his eyes that were about to burst from anxiety of the wait. Surveying the group, I found a man wearing a familiar ring with a gleaming ruby set in silver.
[(Interesting, how did he come by that?)]
"Nyxis, Zeke, Scarlett, lead on to Westbrook. I'll join after I deal with this trash," I ordered without turning to face the others. A wall of black flames erupted in front of me clearing a path to the nearby forest.
I glared at Ronald who contemplated my words as his men that stood along the flames' path screamed in pain while their fellow ruffians tried to extinguish my flames. I knew he was wondering what was going through my mind. If the others left, I would be all alone to face down thirty armed ruffians. Most were looked to be more suited to melee combat and clad in iron and leather armor. Ten others were dressed like mages adorned with clothes that were enchanted and armed with staffs or wands to better channel their magic. The last six wore only leather armor and were armed with a combination of bows and daggers.
[(They'll all be dead at my feet except for Ronald and the man with the familiar ring. I have a certain surprise in store for you, Ronald.)]
I felt a tug on my coat. Expecting to see Nyx, I was surprised to find the little fox standing behind me. I saw worry in her eyes as she spoke, "Remember you gave your word to see me safely returned home."
I chuckled, catching an arrow aimed for her chest. The wooden shaft burned my palm and fingers as it slid to a stop just centimeters from its mark. "I am a man of my word," I turned my gaze to Ronald once again who now had some sweat on his forehead as the sounds of the others moved onward behind me, "Don't worry little fox, I'll be behind you."
After a moment of ceaseless staring, Ronald just laughed as his ego had once again returned. I stood bored out of my mind as he continued his poor acting, "For a man that a town looks up too, you truly are a moron. We total thirty to just you, how do you intend to get out of this ali--" his voice broke off as he was dragged into his own shadow.
I watched the confused looks of the others as they stared at the spot where Ronald once stood. I just smiled as Morrigon and Tartarus, the one probably responsible for my nightmare, rose from Penumbra. I chuckled, "Let's play a little game!"
I watched as their eyes fell upon me as I twirled the arrow I had caught in my fingertips, "The rules are simple…you just have until sunset to kill me. Judging by the sun, I'd say you have an hour to do so."
I allowed my excitement to pour out as my face felt like it would split in two halves, "To make things more interesting, every fifteen minutes I will kill one of you.
Their bloodlust felt like a boiling pot of water ready to be poured on an invading army. Eyes were bloodshot from unsated hunger for battle. Chests rose and fell steeling their owner's minds for the fight to commence. Weapons were held with whitened knuckles ready to taste flesh once again. They looked to be ravenous wolves ready to pounce a helpless rabbit. The battle began with the retrieval of my weapons.
I stood after three intervals of fifteen minutes. Though badly injured, I still stood as three bodies laid at my feet. The first to die was one of the rogues that succeeded in being the first to draw blood as his arrow found a gap between the flurry of sword and scythe as I blocked each strike. I felt it lodge deep into my right shoulder as I parried an axe to the side. His eyes went wide when I appeared before him and brought Tartarus across his neck.
The second was a mage of the group responsible for healing the injured so they could continue our little play. The other mages formed a barrier around her telling me that this particular mage was best at healing spells. I dodged both blade and spell to reach her using the growing shadows to get closer for the kill. Observation was drilled into my mind through rigorous training and spars with my father to the point I could see the battlefield around me. I appeared above the poor mage driving Morrigon in her chest.
The third was a Lepus that stood in my path for my true target, the one with the all so familiar ring. I appeared behind the Lepus with my back toward my shrouded target who couldn't react in enough time to dodge the pommel of Tartarus sending him cascading to the ground with a bruise over his right temple.
I felt the gates of Penumbra open and dragged his unconscious body into the
shadows. He wore something that was not given to him which sparked my curiosity. He would answer my questions after I was done or die.
With my target subdued, I changed my focus to the Lepus and intercepted his greatsword with Morrigon. The Lepus had a broad body forged through combat and had the strength to prove it. I barely escaped a flurry of strikes with a small cut along my left cheek and sore arms. Parrying with Morrigon, I rushed the man tackling him to the ground like a crazed Streguar. He struggled to free himself but found a misericorde driven through one of the narrow eye slits of his helm.
As the sun disappeared over the horizon, the once prosperous town of Whitford was basked in darkness. I relaxed my stance as I stared at the remaining bandits as the time to bring true fear into the world was upon us. My eyes moved to each of them as their brows were drenched in sweat and the sounds of exasperated breaths of air escaped their lips. I took note that the mages left began to down blue potions to replenish their mana while the rogues out of arrows now wielded their blades. Those that used melee combat felt the worst of it as several of them wielded broken weapons and were now clad in torn armor.
I watched as they slowly surrounded me as I casually spoke without an ounce of worry, "Time is up, you all did better than expected. However, I still draw breath and it's time for our play to come to a close."
I disappeared like a wraith leaving behind a shadow that was run through by blades and spells dispelling the illusion. I listened as they began to search for me and screamed, "Where did he go?!" or "Keep your eyes peeled!!!"
I watched from the shadows of a nearby ruined farmhouse waiting for my opportunity to strike fear into their hearts. A lone rogue that I marked as my first target slowly backed into the ruins as she tried to make an escape to the nearby forest. I heard her fast beating heart as she looked in every hidden corner before continuing. Thump thump thump thump her heart feeding off the adrenaline flooding her veins. Thump...thump...thump the sound of her heart slowly relaxed as she stared through me hiding in the far corner. Her eyes widened with surprised shock when I willed the illusion to fade and cut short her scream with my blade.
I rose from the darkness of one of the nearby trees that held the corpses of unfortunate souls. Peering through the rustling leaves, I watched as the mice took the bait I had set. Explosions of magic erupted from the ruins I once hid inside, razing it to the ground like its neighboring buildings. Five of the remaining twenty four cautiously made their way to investigate the scene for any signs of my death. I smiled as they began to dig the woman's body free of the debris gathering more hands to help free her.
Taking a misericorde in each hand, I began to wrap a shadowy thread like the ones that bound the Count to the carriage around each hilt. From my position, I observed two unwary mongrels backing away while everyones' attention was on the ruined farmhouse. Neither reacted to the threads that faintly tightened around their necks. I waited until they were just underneath the branch I stood on before jumping. Their bodies rose from the ground and fought for air as my blades pierced the ground underneath. When their bodies stopped moving, I pulled free my blades and found a new shadow to hide as the corpses were discovered.
I continued to play my version of Hide 'n Seek until only five remained alive. The stench of piss and shit filled the air as a man clad in full plated iron armor yelled into the night, "Where are you!? Who are you!? What are you!?"
My laughter filled the silent air as the sound of a far off wolf pack began howling at the full moon. I rushed from the brute's shadow grabbing an Alris woman that had her back toward me before disappearing once more. Her shrill scream rang from the roof of a standing building as Morrigon found its way through her spine. I watched as her fear stricken corpse rose in the middle of the surviving mongrels. I watched as they fought to keep calm at the realization of how many had already been killed.
I answered the question that had been asked, "You ask who am I? What am I? Questions that you already know the answer to, you know who I am."
"I am that tingle in the back of your mind telling you that you're being watched. I am the unblinking eyes hidden from sight. I am the darkness that gives way to the light waiting to strike," I appeared behind an unsuspecting brown haired mage abducting him before the eyes of the others.
I appeared before the armored man and brought Tartarus diagonally across his body. I turned and listened to the two distinct thuds as I faced the last three mongrels. I laughed, "I am the monster hidden under your beds as you slumber. I am he who is shrouded in shadows. I am the evil that devours other evil."
Three blades found their mark as gasps of air filled my ears followed by three bodies crumbling to the ground. I proclaimed my identity to fading ears, " I am the Shrouded King."
I stood at the center of the battlefield taking in the night air as the weight of each blade returned to their slumber. I muttered to myself as I placed Morrigon into Penumbra and retrieved Tartarus' sheathe, "That was long over do."
Tying a black thread around the serpent clasps and another around the lower half of the scabbard, I placed the cursed blade across my back. I smiled as I made my way to the well, "I hope you enjoyed that. Now no more dreams like that for awhile, understood?"
No voice nor growl came from the gladius, nothing but the sound of crickets. Shaking my head in disbelief, "And I'm now talking to my sword, what next?"
Unknown to Jackal, the being that harbored in his blade smiled as it enjoyed the carnage that its wielder had created. It had enjoyed the screams of the dead and the sweet crimson liquid it drank, "I accept your offer, mortal. For now, no unpleasant dreams shall befall you."
It laughed a menacing laugh that boomed off the walls of its prison, "Your futile attempts to tame me will not go unpunished, but the offerings you gave will not go to waste. I'll be watching you, mortal as I wait to take over your very being. Until then, do not die."
After scavenging the dead for anything of value or information, I stood before the well once more as the cold embrace of rain kissed my skin. I imagined that the shadows of the well formed numerous limbs that carried what I was searching for to the moonlight once more. I watched as shadowy skeletal limbs hefted the body of the vagabond over the rim of the well. I felt some joy seeing that his face was a mask of joy upon his death wish coming true. I took his drenched body in my arms and gently placed him against the well in a posture that resembled someone napping. I pulled free the arrow and tossed it to the side out of respect for the dead.
[(Only those that deserve such a fate should be lost in darkness.)]
I found the walking stick the man once carried and placed it next to him. I stood and made my way to rejoin the others as I said my farewell to the old soul, "May the black bird carry you to the Eternal Fields."
A few moments after Jackal left, two figures stood in the remnants of the slaughter that took place mere moments ago. Both figures were dressed in black clothing to better blend into the shadows. Each wore light leather cloaks draped over their shoulders concealing the bandoliers of blades and obsidian leather armor with strips of chainmail wrapped around their limbs underneath. Masks with intricate carvings of fearsome dämons covered their faces keeping their true identities secret just as their Order requires. They were chosen to observe the one called Jackal and protect his group if the need arises.
Neither could understand the scene they had witnessed from afar from the top of the nearby mill that still stood. They had watched as one man decimated an entire battalion of rogues and cut throats like it wasn't a challenge. To them, it looked as if a vengeful soul of those who died here had risen to kill any who dared tread on their tomb. Each watched as the man they were charged to observe had appeared and disappeared between shadows as they reaped their harvest. The tingle of fear ran down their spines as the continued to watch til the end.
The tallest of the two asked the other as its gaze stopped upon the three last to die studying the accuracy of the one responsible, "What was that monster?"
The other figure knelt before the vagabond that sat against the well. His unkempt hair and beard freshly washed for its final voyage. Though that wasn't what drew the figure toward it, the way the body was left with dignity and grace was the true attention grabber. The figure's hidden obsidian feline ears twitched as a comforting wave melted the fear she felt away. She was relieved to see that some compassion was inside the man that had saved her many times before.
The figure turned its attention to the vagabond's clear unblinking eyes and closed them as she spoke, "What kind of monster, indeed. Come, we still have work to be done."