Houses burned, corpses roasted and ashes rose. The fire lit up the night sky. Osmond felt the heat and the ashes on his skin. He could smell the burnt corpses.
Yet, he did not care.
Ahead of him stood a beast, twice as tall as an adult man. Its skin was the colour of the night sky. Its eyes were bloodshot. Saliva oozed between its teeth that were as long as daggers. A striped skin covered below its torso. Its bulbous stomach jiggled as it moved. Despite its size, it handled its club as if it was a part of its body. Human entrails hung from its spikes. Entrails of people who were once Osmond's friends and neighbours.
An ogre.
He didn't care for the monster either.
Amidst the wailing cries and scorched earth was a boy on his knees. His blonde hair was covered in blood and grime. His blue eyes were empty. In front of him laid a woman in a pool of blood.
Her blood.
The boy was only seven and he had seen the death of his mother.
"How could this have happened?" Osmond thought.
In her life, Louise Ward was intelligent. In a world where books were scarce, She managed to garner a whole shelf full of them. Her hair and eyes were blue like the summer sky. A pair of spectacles glimmering over her long sharp nose. On days of freedom, she would read to Osmond, in hope of imparting curiosity. But for Osmond, stories were his only interest.
There was one book of his particular interest.
A book that was filled with stories of knights of young and old. A book filled with magic and mystery and adventure. A book detailing the unknown.
THE WORLD OF GRAEAE: A LAND OF BEAUTY AND ADVENTURE
He saw men venturing out for glory but he didn't see that with glory came danger.
He only dreamt of the beauty but didn't care for the nightmares.
He was seeing the nightmares now.
The ogre closed into them. Its razor-sharp claws swiped into Louise's hand. Her hand came off as if she was an insect. It rolled on the ground and came to a halt. Her white glows now dirt ridden. The ogre started chewing on it, savouring the flesh and juices. It glared at her corpse.
For all life, The need to live came before love, and the same happened to Osmond. His mind turned frantically. At that moment, only one thought prevailed in his mind.
'I will be next.'
He crawled backwards, throwing away rocks. He tried to scream but his voice failed. His mouth was dry and yet sweat poured from all his pores. He gasped for air. He felt the world spin and his mind float. He felt as if he was drowning on the ground. He struggled to keep himself conscious.
"Somebody, anybody, help," He pleaded inside.
Darkness crept from the corners of his eyes. All sense of control left his body. He fell in a thud.
Goblins and orcs plundered as they savaged the village. The few Mansabdar sent from Pemphredo died. Their corpses and their horses became food for the flies and the monsters.
The Ogre extended its arm. The hand that tore through her flesh. It gleed, its mouth extending from ear to ear. Saliva mixed with blood dripped down. It was going to satiate its hunger. It was going to satiate its lust.
CHOMP.
The beast's fingers flew away in a clean arch. Blood gushed from its wounds. It cried in pain.
RAWRRRRR....
It didn't understand what had happened. It clenched into the wounds to stop blood from pouring. It ground its teeth. It was angry. Angry at being interrupted from its feast.
There stood a man. His chiselled jaw and sculpted body emanated strength. He was donned in full plate armour gilded in red. Leather gloves and boots covered his hand and feet. His short cropped hair was fiery red. He wore his beard in a short goatee. His eyes glimmered like rubies. A gem of will of blood red was donned in the centre of his breastplate. Blood splattered and coagulated over his whole Armor.
In his right arm, a long sword swayed. A blue gem was fitted on its hilt. The ogre's blood dripped through its edge.
Viktor Ward has always kept his cool. He wanted to be a strict father and only let his emotion out rarely near Osmond. Nevertheless, he complimented Osmond when needed.
The man was kind.
That man was nowhere to be seen now. Viktor now boiled with rage.
Viktor's muscles tightened. Sweat turned to steam over his skin. His senses heightened. He heard his son's heartbeat. A sense of relief flowed through his body.
"Wait for me, son," Viktor said although Osmond will not hear it.
The beast swung its club forward and lunged. Viktor slipped underneath the strike and dashed forward. A red blur flashed. In one swift motion, he severed both of its legs. Face forward, the ogre collapsed.
"You will eat flesh no more," Viktor said and thrust his sword through its skull.
Viktor gasped for air. He heard more ogres closing in. He could handle one, maybe two. He could never handle a pack. Blood went away from his face. He looked back and saw his family lying on the dirt.
"Death for them," Viktor whispered.
He went to his wife and knelt.
" I am sorry. " Tears welled up in his eyes. He closed her eyes and carried her in his arms. He will not let her lay in the middle of the street no more.
He looked around and met with a shrine. The shrine for the Caladrius; her shrine. He took her in front and laid her there.
He could feel the imminent battle in his bones and so he went back. Arching his back he shouted out.
He heard hoofbeats coming and looked. A horse velvety black came. Atop him rode a gaunt man. His red hair combed backwards was peppered in white. Blood red pupils peered from his sockets. His beard was raggedy red. The man was strong, for if he were not, he would have crumbled with the mail and armour.
He rode near Osmond and got out of his horse
"Connor," Viktor said. His lips turned into a smile.
Connor kneeled near Osmond. He placed his index and middle finger near the side of the boy's neck and checked for a pulse.
"His heart rate is above normal, perhaps due to shock. But he will live. I cannot say the same for your wife though," Connor said looking toward Louise.
"I expected a ' I am sorry for your loss', but NO. Ever the stone-faced Connor," Viktor shouted, holding back his anger and tears.
'No,' he thought. A man must not cry in front of others.
"I was merely stating a fact. This village is lost and its survivors moving to the South. I suggest you take the boy and do the same," Connor said matter-of-factly.
"And what you say of my wife?" Viktor asked, his voice breaking.
"The dead have no feelings," Connor's voice was grim.
Viktor smiled. His face was now resolved.
"Love banished us from Pemphredo and because of it I am staying."
Connor's face glitched. He was angry and it was rare for Connor to get angry. He opened his mouth to give him a piece of his mind.
"Connor, don't say anything. I know what you are going to say. That it Is pointless and that I will die a fool's death. I was the lord of this village and I am still. A lost village, still my village. I am going to give its survivors and my son time to escape. I am going to block the monsters as long as I can, So I want you to take my son and leave."
Connor was dumbfounded. He couldn't argue with what that didn't have any sense.
"Besides, they will not allow a banished one back in. Let me find meaning in my death. Let me have a Centurian's last stand."
Connor's eyes widened.
'He has resolved himself,' He thought
Connor carried the boy in between his arms and tied him to the saddle.
He glanced back at Viktor. He couldn't see his face. He didn't know what expression he was wearing.
"There will be no glory for you in this," Connor said climbing the horse.
"I know," Viktor replied.
Connor rode as fast as he was allowed. He saw people in horses and mules. Men cried when they were alone but Connor didn't cry even then.
Osmond didn't see any of this for he was screaming in his dream.