Prologue
The night sky was a gloom of dark clouds, and a cold wind was spreading across the land. Earth itself seemed to grab hold of his feet as he failed to keep his balance. He fell face first to the ground but rose just as quickly, not once pausing to inspect the thin stripes of blood that sprawled across his cheeks. He ran through wooded areas, through the plains and hills as the first droplets of rain crashed against his battered body.
Mercy, he sobbed. Please, mercy.
From behind came a sound that curdled his blood and turned his bowls to water. Never had he heard such a noise. None of them had. Now, it all but plagued his soul and made his instincts erupt into a frenzied state of terror. Death. You will die if you stop, his mind screamed at him.
Please, please.
When he finally dared to glance back over his shoulder, he saw their shadows, great beasts of slaughter that dwarfed every living thing in memory.
Oh, Gods! Please! Please!
They were mere shadows, some part of him knew. But he could not stop his senses from breathing life into them. Blood dripped from their mouths black as night. Long appendages of pure muscles thrust back and forth in the air as if angry at the world and everything in it. These things bore no love for him, he knew. Every stride of their hoofed legs brought them closer, each step a massive blow to the earth and all of her creatures. He tried to run faster, but his legs refused to obey. They had given it all and now began to succumb to fatigue. Ahead all he could see were the visages of the men that had since parted the world. And they were all laughing at him, taunting him. They sneered at his efforts to escape the fate that had consumed them all. A putrid smell made his throat burn. He knew the stench well, a stink of flesh, blood, and ruptured intestines laden with feces. The thought of it alone caused him to vomit through his clenched teeth, all the while he shook his head at the faces before him.
You're all dead, dead. I saw the monsters kill you all; he tried to shout, I saw your bodies turned to mush, and your heads explode under their sheer weight! I'm not like you! Please, grant me mercy, he tried to shout. However, upon opening his mouth, only vomit came rushing from the depths of his throat.
And while he chocked and stumbled, another noise managed to pierce through the night. It was a sound that was different from the one before. For a moment the echo of flesh being forced down unto the earth by the engines of carnage was lost. Instead, what he heard was almost soothing, almost normal. Then he remembered what lay behind him. His life flashed in an instant—all of his victories, his failures, and the people in his life that he would never see again. They all appeared before him as if to bid him farewell.
And disappear they did, for what came next haunted his very being, leaving him a screaming mess as his legs finally gave way.
It was the sound of imminent destruction.
"MEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHH!"
"Stop! Stay away!" He finally managed to yell at the top of his lungs, as he lay crumpled on the ground, a mixture of drool and vomit foaming at the corners of his mouth. He tried his best to crawl away, but it was no use. The shadows in his mind had crept but a few feet away.
In a final act born out of pure desperation, he prayed to the one person alive that could deliver him from this great evil.
He was a man of grand exploits.
—A dark knight
—A hero among heroes
—A living legend
A man I wronged, he cried. Though his foolish actions towards this great person came to the forefront of his mind, it did not stop him from calling out. But then the shadows overtook him, and his last conscious thoughts were of the would-be savior, of simpler times, and of how everything had gone wrong.
Some time prior…
"Two Skeletal Dragons and an army of undead," said Cassander. He snatched a withered peach off the ground and tossed it from hand to hand.
"So they say. Now, throw the peach," urged Eras the ranger. He slipped an arrow from his quiver and nocked it to his bowstring.
"I've never seen a Skeletal Dragon. Can they even fly or breathe fire?" Crispus was the youngest among them, a clumsy boy just a few months shy of having reached manhood. "I would like to have seen them, but not as much as the scuffle with the vampire."
"The beautiful princess is whom I want to see. I heard she's as graceful as a swan but more ferocious than any dragon when stirred," added Jugurtha with a smile. And I should very much like to sleep in her den and plunder all that I can, he thought, as he shifted restlessly on the small, wooden bench. A long time had transpired since he last bedded a woman. By the fortnight they would arrive in E-Rantel, perhaps then a visit to Honey of Amber or Purple Apothecary will do good to satiate his pent-up frustrations. Neither had any princesses on their roster of women, but he would make sure to pay them a royal visit nonetheless.
My purse is fat with coin, and there's nothing like a good whore to suck it dry.
They could hear Julia's laughter from above, coming through shuttered windows and mingled with the stressed voice of the man she meant to entertain.
Poor fool sounds like's he's about to pass out.
Julia was the youngest wench at the Oyster, a mid-size tavern in the small city between Re-Estize and E-Pespel that failed to serve its namesake but offered an array of other services to their guests. Ripe at fifteen and her maidenhead still intact, Julia was the Oyster's crowned jewel, a pearl that everyone wanted to claim first with no success. Jugurtha had tried in the past. He had saved the amount of coin she had demanded and even paid her in advance being none the wiser. It wasn't until the blindfold came off that he realized the person that mounted him was some other lowly servant girl. All the while Julia stood in the corner, counting her coin, laughing at his bewilderment like a mischievous child.
"I said you were in for the night of your life," she began, giggling even as his face became hot with anger. "Pray recall I never said it would be on my behalf, for what am I if not a proper lady?"
The bastard upstairs fell for it too; no way that bitch would surrender her virginity to a sixty-year-old fossil. Well, maybe if he had more coin than there are rocks on the earth…maybe.
"Beautiful Princess?" Crispus echoed, not in the least bit impressed. "Why would you want to see her? Was it not the dark hero who slew the Skeletal Dragons? I'd rather see him and hear first hand how he managed to beat them without any magical support. Ah, if he could teach me his sword skills that would be amazing. I would beg and plead if need be."
"You're too low on the ladder to ask him anything, boy," Numidicus, the cleric, told Crispus. Numidicus wore a leather strap diagonally across his chest, underneath lay broiled leather armor with a morning star strapped to his side. His brown boots and gloves consisted of fine cotton and a mesh of cold steel and cheap iron. A bushy beard hid his mouth and chin, a black curtain that only parted ways to show his pearly, white teeth. "And you wouldn't want to be anywhere near those fights when they broke out, less you perish as well. You're too young and weak compared to the likes of them. Learn to know your place in the world, for it may rest on others stronger than you to remind you of it."
"Lay off the lad, nothing wrong with a little curiosity at his age. Better to have an interest in monsters and adventuring than women and whoring. Gods know that's all Jugartha thinks about day and night. The world would do well to nurture that passion for discovery. Boy want's to become an adventurer, after all," said Cassander.
"Throw the peach," Eras urged again. He was a young, comely man, their ranger. Many young women doted on him—even Julia. She would gently stroke his back when she served them drink and bread, much to Jugurtha's chagrin.
Said worker would gnash his teeth and pretend that it didn't bother him. For he suspected Julia knew he was watching her. She knows how to sway her hips and pucker her lips to make my blood burn. A temptress that has no intention of going beyond foreplay or teasing, with an attitude to boot, Gods help the poor soul that ends up trying to court that wench.
"The boy knows not what he wants. There are no real adventures, just plated, private soldiers of the guild for hire. They're more akin to workers than they wish to admit, and it's important that the boy realizes that," said Numidicus doggedly. "Only fools are disillusioned by their profession after they have dedicated their life to it."
"The peach," Eras said. "Or do you plan to eat it, rotten as it is with worms and all?"
"Two silver coins if you don't disappoint me." Planting his left foot firmly before pushing upward, Cassander took a small leap, turned in midair, and whipped the peach sidearm into the night and towards the plains. He had the strength of two regular men, with thick arms and broad shoulders. The peach disappeared into the darkness, flying fast and far. Though not faster than the arrow, for the meter-long shaft of black wood and golden feathers whistled after it. Cassander did not see what happened next, but he heard it as clear as Julia's laughter. A soft pop echoed back through the sky, followed by a thud as the combined mass fell to earth.
Cassander whistled. "Nice, we'll be sure to ward off any malevolent peaches that come our way. Good eye."
Though not as good as Julia's hazel orbs or budding breasts, Jugurtha mused, her laughter now subsided. I should have been born a prince, or a wealthy nobleman. I would ride a white mare and sweep Julia off her feet, and then she would beg to have me take her as my wife.
One late evening at the Oyster, after a successful job and tankards of strong wine, Jugurtha had boasted that he wouldn't remain a worker for long. "I won't always be just another grunt, taking orders from fat aristocrats perched on their cushioned thrones," he had shouted. "Sure enough," the angry landlord had called out. "You'll be a former worker, herding cows and plowing through dung."
I'll buy this place and send that old man packing.
He drained his tankard clean of liquid. The torch-lit terrace of the Oyster was a beacon of light amongst many in the sea of darkness that surrounded the small city. Up the street, he could spy the chateau used by the mayor of the city, its lights burned even brighter than the Oyster's, though it did little to ease his bitterness.
"Say, shouldn't your friend have come back by now?" Crispus inquired.
"Our leader? Not a chance, the mayor will greet her and make a show of dining her before they get down to business," declared Cassander, a grin on his face. "He may even ask her to spend the night, you know. We may have to wait until morning, at this rate."
"I-Is that so?" The boy blushed, the tip of his ears a bright red as he struggled to banish inappropriate thoughts from his mind. For it was not an honorable thing to do, he mused. "Is this a common practice amongst workers—to meet the client in private I mean? I know adventurers have the guild serving as an intermediary between their clients…do workers not have a similar system?"
"Workers have no masters," declared Jugurtha, too loudly, startling the boy.
"The guild limits what its members can do," offered Eras, who had collected his prize from his comrade. "It's a lot easier to set the rules yourself and make a living that way. You can list your price and undercut the competition. So, if you want to make money, a worker is the better occupation."
"…But what about ensuring the people's safety?"
"We do that too if the price is right," agreed Cassander.
Numidicus nodded in satisfaction. "Indeed, listen well boy. If you do not wish to do as we do, then your calling is elsewhere. But know this, to be an adventurer is to have a job, simple as that. Everyone is in it for the money. It's best if you forget all the fancy stories you heard as a child."
"But, surely not everyone is like that! True heroes do exist! Take the Skeletal Dragons as an example! I heard the dark hero saved the entire city from the undead! Surely that has to count for something! What copper plate would rush into such danger if he did not have a heroic spirit at heart!?" Crispus shouted in defiance. He had hoped to hear stories of valor from these workers, of heroes and great triumphs. However, all they seemed to care about was monetary gain, and he did not take the constant jabs at his worldview as honest attempts at humor.
"Stupid brat. Your hero had the Wise King of the Forest by his side, a beast of great strength and prowess when he faced the dragons. And he only defeated the vampire thanks to a rare item. If you think about it in those terms, it's clear what sort of person he is. Yeah, that's right. The dark hero is just a charlatan with an inflated ego. Just a man in fancy armor with the right tools on hand at the right time." Jugurtha explained, clearly irate and in no mood to continue the charade. He grew more stubborn as he drank. Though even when he was sober, he was considered to be thick-skulled. "All speak of dragons, vampires, and heroes, bah, a bunch of bloated rumors if you ask me. No doubt the guild is getting a kick out of it though, wouldn't be surprised if they were the ones who orchestrated the whole thing. Nothing brings in the money like an Adamantite."
"Tch, you're just upset that a copper plate did what you couldn't, and that Julia-san won't touch your dirty cock," Crispus bit back.
"Hahaha! And a dirty thing it is!" Cassander bellowed, making sure to place his hand on Jugurtha's shoulder, though only to stop the man from physically lashing out at the boy.
"Oh!" Exclaimed Numidicus, "you're back earlier than the usual, leader…eh, what's that frown on your face all about?"
Crispus darted his head to welcome the leader of the workers but was concerned that she had a scowl on her face. He immediately regretted his previous words and felt his mouth run dry, ashamed of his behavior. Evidently, he thought, she had grown livid that one of her comrades had been insulted.
The arcane magic caster paid him no heed. Instead, she bit her lower lip, as if struggling to say her piece. "Bad news," she began while straightening out her tawny, colored robe. It was a low-cut, short-sleeved garment that was more risque than practical. The gown had massive slits on either side of the knee length skirt, which exposed her legs up to the hip. The light fabric left her shoulders, collarbone, and back bare. Thin frills decorated the sleeves while black, leather boots with slightly raised heels led up to fishnet stockings that continued up her pale legs. Blonde tresses of hair cascaded just past her shoulders and swayed as she shook her head in a gesture wrought with disappointment.
Crispus could feel the tip of his ears burn a new. The sight of the magic caster threw him off. She seemed flustered, and her cheeks were tinted the faintest shade of pink. Still, he couldn't help but question her choice of attire.
"Well, spit it out already. Did we get the job again or not?" Jugurtha demanded impatiently. He was prepared to leave this place. Ready to journey to E-Rantel and blow off some steam.
For a second, Crispus thought the mayor had overstepped his bounds once more, judging by her shy demeanor.
"We got the job, partly, anyway," she continued. "We'll escort our client to E-Rantel as planned, but he wants some extra help when we escort him back home."
"Extra help?" Eras questioned after a moment.
"Hm, he wants to 'put an end to the problem,' is how he worded it."
"…And the pay?" Cassander pressed.
"Split, I'm afraid. We won't be able to make as much as we originally planned," Valeria said, clearly discontent with the new arrangement.
Though it wasn't just her, Crispus noted. In fact, he saw that the news of a lower compensation had jaded everyone's mood rather significantly. Suddenly, he felt it prudent to dismiss himself; only he wasn't sure how to gather the courage necessary to disrupt the growing tension.
"Pissing hell," Jugurtha seethed, "…and who does that idiot have in mind?"