12 Days before Now
Smoke trailed lazily up into the stormy sky. Rain pelted down upon his broad shoulders, soaking the fabric through. His moustache drooped ever so slightly from the intense wind as his intense gaze swept over the few remaining Hollow Men, straggling towards the fort. His Pipe was clenched tightly between his teeth as the order came out of his mouth, shouted, to heard over the wind.
"Mortar team! Rotate up Ninety Degrees and fire!" The order was firm and calm.
"Yes Major!" Private Jammy replied from under the bandages covering his face. The Red-coated private pushed the Mortar in the appropriate direction as another trooper lit the fuse. A few Soldiers threw their hands over their ears to shield them from the blast. Major Swift didn't.
The Mortar thundered, Swift's moustache shifting slightly from the impact. A squad of Hollow Men shattered under the impact, bones flying.
"A bloody good shot!" The Major congratulated, waving his pipe for emphasis, little trails of smoke following it.
"I doubt we'll see more of those bone-men tonight!" Lieutenant Simmons called out happily, his massive, trunk-like arms, crossed over his wall of a torso. Swift's enormous NCO was always in good spirits, always ready to get stuck in a scrap and use the pare of large, brutal-looking cleavers hanging on his back.
"Look at them run!" Captain Ben Finn observed, firing a round from his musket at the few fleeing wisps. "They can't stand up to the Swift Brigade! Typical Undead!"
A small cheer went up from the Red Uniformed soldiers. "Good show men! They won't be back again!" Major Swift proclaimed, raising a fist in salute. "Feel free to go about your business now! The North Wall needs shoring up! We have men that need a burial! Get to it!"
The men Saluted, "Yes sir!"
Swift saluted them back, "Dismissed!"
Within minutes he was back in his private chamber, looking over a map of Morningwood swamp. The pipe was still clutched in his right hand, his left tracing portions of this map. Swift wasn't one to admit defeat, but these Hollow Men were unlike any enemy he'd ever faced. They never stopped, they never tired and they never seemed to end. Swift had lost count of the number of the monsters he'd smashed, but ever dusk they came shambling back at the Fort, muskets blazing.
The war hero didn't want to admit it to the men, but the situation seemed hopeless. King Logan had promised reinforcements two weeks ago. They had yet to arrive. His Brigade was down to half of its original strength; his men were tired and wounded. Yet despite all the hardships they had endured, things that no ordinary soldier should have too endure, they pressed on, heads high. Swift wondered if he was truly worthy to lead these men. The pipe in his hand continued to cover the ceiling with smoke as Swift took a comforting draft from it. His gloved hand twitched over the map. He kept searching, for an answer, answers that continued to elude him.
His speculations were cut short by a sharp rap on his door. "Major. I have your reports." Ben Finn's strong voice carried across the wood.
"Come in Captain Finn," Swift ordered, waving his piped hand at the door despite Finn's inability to see the gesture.
The blonde Captain entered a small stack of papers in his hands. The sight of them made Swift's temples hurt. The major shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ignore the regulations Captain; just tell me what we have here."
"Alright sir, you want the good news or the bad news first?" Finn asked, eyebrow raised.
"The Bad of course," the Major answered, waving his piped hand at the Captain.
"Tom and Monty were killed last night," Ben began, his voice unwavering but marked with a hint of sorrow. "I already sent the dispatches to Tom's wife and Monty's mother." Swift's eyes closed solemnly, his pipe held low. It was never easy loosing men. Each death was just another stab at Swift's heart.
"Our ammo capacity is down another two barrels; we still haven't been reimbursed," Captain Finn continued, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes unwavering. "And we used our last healing potion last night. Until that supply train comes, the boys are going to have to recover the old fashion way."
Swift stuck his pipe back in his mouth, taking a long draft before continuing, "And what's the good news?"
"Well sir," Be scratched his head sheepishly, "There is no good news sir. I just said that to cheer you up."
Swift chuckled, his laughter expelling smoke in little clouds, "Well it worked Captain Finn!" The major of the Royal Army of Albion waved his piped hand at the map, "The situation seems less than satisfactory, wouldn't you agree Captain Finn?"
The Captain gave a chuckle of his own, his head bobbing, "That's understating it sir." His laughter died on his lips and his eyes turned downcast. "Sir. What can we do?" The Major raised a bushy eyebrow but said nothing. "I mean, they never stop, never hunger, never get sick! Their numbers are limitless! We dwindle, fade and eventually die. What can we do?"
Finn looked crushed by his own words, his eyes turned towards the floor. The Major clapped his empty hand on his friend's shoulder. "The only thing we can do Finn. We fight."
Now
"Alright you Rebel scum! Tell us where they are!" The voice thundered again. Swift spat some blood out and stared his interrogator in the eye, "I don't know. I think they went down to the pawnbrokers."
Faster than the human eye could follow the gloved fist smashed into Swift's face again. His nose had already been fractured, this blow shattered it. The Elite Guard's glove, a formally rich purple, was stained with blood. Swift's blood.
The major wished he could take a nice long whiff of smoke from his pipe that would make this unbearable agony, somewhat bearable. Instead of being in his hand it sat on a table in front of him, they taunted him with it, with the memory of her.
His hands were tied behind his back; the chair he'd been strapped into was cold and hard. He had been stripped to the waist, his chest a montage of fresh cuts, burns and bruises. Blood dribbled down his chin, pooling in a small puddle on his right boot. His formally proud moustache was plastered to his face with blood.
He'd been stupid, he knew, pushed his luck. He'd come to the Castle to report their success against the Hollow Men to King Logan, and find out what he could about the troop movements while he was at it.
He'd gotten greedy, tried to sway some of Logan's Royal guards to the Revolution's cause. They'd turned him in. Faster than he could think, he was tied up in this chair in some dungeon under the castle. They were trying to break him, get him to give up his knowledge. Well it'd take more than pain to get him to abandon his friends, his honor, and his princess.
A small grin crept across the Major's face. He'd managed to get some good out of this. While creeping around the Castle he'd managed to break into Logan's war room, there he'd found some information about a country called Aurora. Apparently there were people there that could help the Rouge Princess and her revolution. At lest Private Hamilton had managed to get the papers out of the castle before Swift had been captured.
The Elite Guard stared down at Swift from behind his fearsome helmet. "I will break you Swift," his tormenter spat at him.
Swift forced a jaunty smile on his face that he really didn't feel, "You're more than welcome to try. The Happy Hour at The Cow and Corset doesn't start until ten tomorrow, so I have time."
"Still trying to be funny I see," the guard replied darkly, picking up a jagged, wicked looking blade off of the table. "I'm curious to see how long you can maintain your cleaver tongue after I carve my name into your chest?"
Swift gritted his teeth, then the pain began again.
15 years before now
She had hair of ginger; it was curly and bounced around her shoulders when she moved. He'd noticed that first. His moustache hadn't been very large than, and he'd been a mere corporal stationed in Brightwall Village when he'd first laid his eyes upon her.
He was at the Cow and Corset tavern in Brightwall, taking a draft with some mates when she'd danced across his field of vision. A simple Farmer, living on her own. Her parents had died, leaving the young woman to look after herself alone.
Her name was Daisy, Swift had found that out quickly, with a little bit of searching. He was in love.
Corporal Swift arranged to meet her, he had to. The next time she was in town struggling with her groceries he'd made his move.
"Hello ma'am," Swift greeted her, "Need a hand?" He offered both of his.
"What does it bloody well look like?" The woman replied, handing Swift one of her bags. The corporal was shocked, such un-womanly language. Then she looked at him and smiled her teeth pearly white, her face covered with a dash of freckles, dimples. His heart melted in his chest.
Swift took a bag under each arm and escorted the woman to her small cottage outside Brightwall. It was rustic and hand built, by her father she later told him. She was young and hot blooded, eager for adventure much like himself and he ended up spending the night there with her. The same thing happened the next day and the day after. It wasn't long before Corporal Swift came calling for Miss Daisy on a regular biases, bringing flowers and other such things. When he got his Sergeant's stripes she was the one whom he told, when he got his commission she was the first one he informed. They were happy together, very happy.
6 Days before now.
Swift shoved the ramrod down the musket barrel as fast as he could; this swarm of Hollow men seemed fiercer than any bunch he'd seen in a while. The Major didn't bother with replace the ramrod he simply dropped it, took aim over the wall of the Morningwood fort. One Hollow man with a rusty looking rifle and the tattered remains of a trader's garb came plodding forward. The smoke emitting from the pipe's barrel didn't obscure the vision of the veteran. He squeezed the trigger slowly, his bullet shattering the skull of the abomination, shattering its skull. The bone bag slumped to the ground, not rising again.
Next to him Captain Finn fired another round from his own rifle, dropping his own Hollow man, Simmons was blazing away with his Shotgun, taking down those that came too close, Jammy and Mickey were working the mortar to perfection. The hoard was being beaten back. Until the Swift Brigade heard that ominous squeaking noise.
"What in Avo's name?" Simmons cursed, slamming the extra rounds into his shotgun as fast as the big man could. "That sounds like wheels."
Ben cautiously took a peek over the walls, returning his head with ominous tidings. "They're bringing up a mortar of their own Major! Got no idea how the blaze they got one but it's there!"
Swift's moustache drooped in the slightest when he heard that, a mortar? Could this posting get any worse? Still he reacted with a cool head. "Mortar team, return fire on their mortar. I want it destroyed now."
"Yes Sir!" Jammy replied with unreserved enthusiasm, forcing a round down the barrel of the massive weapon. Mickey lit a match leaning forward to take careful aim. Then the bullet struck him in the throat. The Soldier's head snapped back in the spray crimson mist exploding outward even as his body slumped against the Mortar. "Man Down!" Jammy cried even as Ben moved to take Mickey's position. His aim was true and his reaction at an amazing speed, but it wasn't enough. Even as the mortar round was fired the Hollow Mortar returned with a fire of its own. The enemy Mortar exploded from the well fired Swift round but it's own deadly cargo speed towards the fort.
Swift, pipe clenched tightly in between his teeth, flung himself to the ground, so did Jammy and Finn. Not Simmons though. The Lieutenant stood tall, blazing away with his large shotgun. Swift could only watch in horror as the mortar shell tore right through his friend's chest, showering the major in blood and intestines. What was left of Simmons' face contorted into an expression of stupefied horror. The world around him fell into a deadened silence as Simmons toppled from the side of the fort wall, trailing blood. A vague awareness of someone screaming hit him as he clutched the barrel of his musket tightly. That screamer was him.
Ben Finn was yelling Simmons' name loudly, as if that would bring the big man back and knit shut the massive hole in his chest and face. The remaining Hollow men were shown off in good order, with volleys of musket fire and the day was won. Yet to Swift it felt like an agonizing defeat. Simmons was gone and he wasn't coming back, Mickey and Rolf had joined the big man in Avo's halls, his numbers were continuing to fall. With a heavy heart and a long draft from his pipe the Major ordered the burial of those fallen men, and then went back to the day's tasks.
Now
That soldier hadn't been kidding about carving his name into Swift's chest and it had hurt. The burning sensation of having a rusty blade dragged across his skin over and over still pierced him eloquently. The Major coughed up some blood; the drops buried themselves in his moustache with the others.
"Well now," he tried to read the bloody mess that used to be his torso, "Clarence. You're penmanship needs work."
The guard didn't reply, he simply continued to clean the blood of his gloves before he'd continue.
"Tell me Clarence," Swift wheezed, doing his best to hide the pain in his body behind a shield of confidence. "Can I have my pipe back? A nice smoke would do me wonders."
"Shut up old man, you're finished." The guard snapped picking the pipe up with one hand. He waved the finely carved item under the Major's bloody nose. "I'd offer you a last smoke but I ain't that kind." The Elite guard dropped the item to the floor, grinding it under his boot heel. Swift felt the blow in his heart at the sight. His beloved pipe, mashed to kindling, he could almost taste the ghost of the sweet tobacco smoke in his mouth.
The guard advanced, brandishing a red hot poker, "You will tell me where your rebel friends are."
There was a loud clanging noise as the door to the dungeon opened on squeaky hinges. One of the Elite Guard Captain's entered the chamber, hands clasped tightly behind his back, a finely made clockwork pistol hanging on his belt. Clarence snapped to attention, throwing the Captain a salute.
"At ease Clarence," the Captain muttered, "I've got orders from King Logan himself; he's doing a demonstration in front of Kingdom within minutes and he wants' Swift up there for it."
"I haven't got the location of the Rebel's yet Captain," Clarence protested.
"Logan told me it doesn't matter. Making an example of Swift is more important than learning something we can find with other means."
Swift's heart sank low in his chest, he knew what, "Making an example" meant. Strong hands pulled him to his feet, half walking half dragging him across the chamber floor. His strength had failed him, his blood running down his back and face, yet he held onto his grim smile. He hadn't faltered, he hadn't told them anything.
The rain came pounding down on the cobblestones as the thunder roared. What a lovely day for an execution.
3 years before now
"I made the rank of Captain." Swift told his beloved over breakfast one morning, biting down hard on a pickled egg.
"That's wonderful!" Daisy congratulated, slicing herself a few slices of bread. "This all happened after General Turner?"
Swift snorted, "That's right. I stayed loyal to the king when Turner didn't. His coup failed and he ended up being shipped of, no one knows where. For my dedication they gave me the rank of Captain." He finished off the rest of his pickled egg, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "They've assigned me this man, Simmons, to be my NCO. You've met Mr. Simmons right Daisy?"
The farm woman bit down on the bread loaf, "The massive guy? Looks like he has a bit of troll blood?" She asked, mouth full, spitting a few crumbs onto the table.
"Quite the same," Swift answered her, taking a cigar from his box. "He's a nice fellow underneath it all, I think we shall become the best of friends."
"Look lover," Daisy told him, "Those things are going to kill you. Can't you fiddle with something else? I hear tobacco's got a sweet taste and hasn't been altered like those smoke sticks?"
The newly minted Captain chuckled a bit and smiled at her concern, "Haven't gotten around to acquiring a pipe yet. One of those things sticks with you for life, you know. I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of commitment." He took another pickled egg from the bowl to continue his breakfast.
"Speaking of commitment..." Daisy hinted, "When are you going to pop the question?"
Swift laughed out loud this time, "I thought our arrangement was when I hit Colonel, I get down on my knees and propose before the men. Then I sweep you off your feet and we live happily ever after."
Daisy took her turn to laugh, it sounded like china clinking lightly together, "And what kind of girl could pass that opportunity up?" She held out her mug of tea and clinked mug's with Swift's brandy, "To the future of Colonel Swift's blushing bride."
Five Days before now
The letter was simple and it smelled of her. Swift's eyes blurred over with tears of joy as he read the simple words.
My Beloved Major, a step away from Colonel
I went to see the doctor today. You know I haven't been feeling well. He did a couple of tests... and well. I'm pregnant. So once this tour is done you come straight home and marry me. I assume we have an accord?
Love Daisy
The Major's moustache dropped under the weight of his happy tears, before he found his own quill and wrote her back.
We have an accord.
Love, Swifty.
"Captain Finn," Swift ordered, handing his letter over to the captain. "See that this is dispatched to Miss Daisy as soon as possible."
"Finally tying the knot eh Major?" Ben said with a smile and fist pump. He could use some cheering up; putting Simmons in his grave had left a sour taste in the Captain's mouth. He knew he'd miss the big man's laugh and smile.
Swift raised an eyebrow, "Just do it man!"
Ben threw a smart salute, and head off letter in hand to dispatch it via carrier pigeon. Swift took a nice long draft from his pipe, the smoke coming through his nose, warming him despite the chill of the wind and the pelting rain. Gregory was playing his lute again, some funeral dirge, Charlie, leaning back in his chair, continued to read through Ben's autobiography and Desmond was resting on his shovel, taking it all in. All was well, for now anyways. Major Swift cast a sad glance towards Simmons' grave.
No one lives forever I guess. Pity his time came so soon, Avo bless you Simmons, wherever you are now.
That's when Perkins opened the gate letting visitors in. What a surprise for Swift.
"There he is! The only Major Swift!" A familiar voice boomed across the compound as Sir Walter Beck strode over to meet his old friend. The old Knight offered his hand to shake which Swift took enthusiastically.
"Walter! You look well!"
Ben and Walter exchanged some banter but the Major ignored them, his eyes were fixed on the unassuming woman standing a little behind Walter, looking unsure of herself. The purple Mercenary jacket, black soldier's trousers, boots and military gloves were an odd combination, but who was he to judge? It was the finely crafted Katanna on her back and pistol at her waist that drew his attention. He'd seen those weapons before, in the hands of a Monarch he loved dearly.
"This is..." He began, realization dawning.
"The Princess yes," Walter answered, "She's got a few skills but just treat her as an extra pare of hands for now."
The Major needed some hands, that's for sure. By the looks that Ben was giving her though, he had very undisciplined ideas going through his mind. "Well then your Highness, Ben can show you up to the Mortar. It needs a new gunner and I have a bad feeling about tonight..."
Now
Logan's booming voice carried across the plains to the crowds gathered far below, people from all corners of the kingdom were gathered even as the rain pelted down on him, and soaking him through the thin shirt and trousers he'd been stripped down to. The wind cutting deep though the aforementioned clothing. It was as if the very sky was weeping for the Major.
"They wear many masks; they may look like your friends, they may even look like your most loyal servants." The Captain waved at Clarence, who shoved Swift out into the open. A collective gasp went up from the crowd at the sight of the decorated Major in such a state. The pain in his body was doubled as they dragged his beaten form up the castle steps, making his face more obvious to everyone. "This…" He paused, letting the reaction sink in. "This is the face of a traitor."
Swift did his best to steel himself. He thought of Ben, of Walter, of the young Rebel Princess and mostly of Daisy. He would never get to meet his son, yet perhaps the boy would grow up in a world free from terror, a world governed by the Hero Queen, a world he'd given his life for.
"Major Swift," Logan continued, his voice echoing in the quite, "A Respected member of the army and sworn servant of the kingdom, has plotted against us all."
Against you maybe. I swore to protect the people not the tyrant king, this is the only way.
"He was apprehended attempting to turn loyal soldiers against us! And is thus charged with espionage, treason and conspiracy." There was protest from the crowd, an angry murmur. Major Swift the hero, a traitor? Never! "Yet there are still others darkening our land with their betrayal. We shall hunt these traitor's down!" Clarence shoved him forward; the Major stumbled a bit in his leg irons, unable to make full movements. Behind him Swift could hear the click of the pistol being readied, he closed his eyes.
Two Days before now
"This is too risky Swift. Walking into Logan's castle!" Walter insisted, shaking his head vigorously, "We'll find another way."
Swift waved his pipe casually, the smoke drifting about. "There is no other way Walter and we both know it. I have to make my regular report, besides, If the young Princess is to know Logan's troop movements and how to avoid them the information will be in the castle. I know the risks."
"I'm just getting a bad feeling is all. Logan's a lot smarter than we give him credit for. Besides, you'll be a father soon. Think about that."
Swift's brow creased, "Walter, a land without freedom is no place for a small boy. I need to do this, if I'm to die... so be it." He reached into the inside of his coat pocket and pulled out a carefully folded letter. "All the same, If I don't make it... give this to her for me will you?"
Walter nodded solemnly and tucked the latter into his belt. "I swear on my sword that she will."
Now
"Wherever they may be. And they shall suffer the same fate as Major Swift…"
The gunshot sounded supernaturally loud from behind Swift, it echoed all around him, louder than the rain, the cries of horror from the crowd, the booming of the thunder. It was the only sound he could hear.
"The fate of all Enemies of the crown!"
The crowd screamed in terror, tears and shouts of anguish for the beloved hero, but there was no calling back the round fired.
The bullet entered the back of his skull, burning hot. As the Major fell to his knees a finally memory drifted before him, then he closed his eyes. Forever.
One year before now
Swift buttoned up the collar of his coat with a practiced hand. His weapons sat by the door ready. "Missed one." Daisy called in from behind him, striding into the room, a sheet and nothing else wrapped around her body for modesty's sake. The sunlight was streaming in warm and inviting into the house, like the company. Pity Swift had orders to move out.
"Thank you darling." The Major leaned his head back to allow the nimble woman fingers to work. Her eyes were damp but her voice was firm.
"So tell me Major, this is a very prodigious post?" She patted down his coat for good measure, "And you'll be away for some time?"
Swift nodded sadly, "Yes, the Morningwood swamp. The Hollow men prescience there is borderline overwhelming and they need to be put down. I'm sure after a year or two, I'll be back, a newly minted colonel."
Daisy pointed a slightly shaking arm towards the kitchen table. Sitting on it was a finely wrapped box, one prepared by a woman's hand. "It's for you. So you can always be with me."
Swift advanced casually, picking the box up with care. Peeling back the lid he saw what lay inside with a smile. A small bag of tobacco sat next to a beautifully hand carved pipe, it looked magnificent.
"I carved it myself," she told him striding forward. "I even craved our initials in the bottom. This way, we'll be apart but we'll always be together."
Swift smiled fondly, slipping the tobacco into his haversack and the pipe into his hands. With a glorious smile he pulled his woman into his arms for a passionate embrace and kiss. "I will carry it always." He promised her when they finally broke apart. Clamping his teeth down upon the pipe he headed towards the door, grabbing his sword and rifle.
The Major turned back to face Miss Daisy, who was doing her best not to cry, with a smile and a wave. "Worry not my love." The Major announced happily, "I'll be back in a year or two and we'll be in constant letter contact! Take care!" With that he turned and departed the home. It was the last time Swift would ever step through the doorway.
Four Days from now
Daisy floated around her small house, her feet barely touching the floor, rubbing her hands over her still flat stomach and whispering sweet nothings to her baby, "Soon daddy will be home, to stay. And he'll be an important officer in the army, we'll not want for anything." She was so happy; she couldn't imagine ever being sad again.
Then there was a knock on the door.
Breezing over towards it, the farm woman opened the door. Walter stood on the other side, looking grim. "Walter! What is it?" She asked cheerfully, and then realized his expression. The knight reached into his coat and handed her an envelope.
What she read in that letter utterly crushed her spirit. Tears began to stream down her face. The letter fell from her limp hands and she threw herself at Walter, hugging him tightly as she cried into his chest, her body wracked with aching sobs. Walter's own beard was stained with tears as he rocked Daisy slowly. It would be all right, it had to be all right.
If one could have read the letter it would have been simple.
My Dear
If you are reading this then it means I'm not coming home. I'm sorry. It seems fate had other ideas in mind. Know that I do not regret anything I have done in my life, it was a fulfilling one. I am sorry that I will miss the life of our child but I know that my death will have made a difference in his future. I will love you always.
Swift; Proud Major in her Highness's Rebel army.