Hello everyone!
To everyone who waited this long, I thank you for your patience. I give you another chapter of Blood, Iron and Gold!
...
If battle can be called one thing, it is chaos. No man, no matter his skill, can perceive all that unfolds before him. Human eyes are extremely limited, forcing the mere mortal to rely on their other senses, but to Kayembe, his eyes were anything but human. Countless scenes played out as if he could see through hundreds of eyes, each one from a variety of angles. A normal man, even a Mage would have gone mad trying to look upon the overwhelming barrage of sight and noise.
But to Kayembe, this maddening array was all he had known for thirty years. Each scene played out in utter silence, the endless images turning into a living mosaic. Even as he felt the wind on his shoulders, Kayembe slowly began to focus on the myriad of scenes that interested him the most. Immediately, he felt his bones fold in upon themselves, getting smaller and smaller until he could fit in the palm of his hand. His arms became wings, his fingers becoming feathers; and in the span of an instant, Kayembe found himself overlooking a skirmish.
Almost instantly, he felt the wind whistling through his body, the rain pounding against his wings, and thunder roaring overhead. It was liberating, no, it was glorious! His newly acquired senses were filled with glee as he soared through the air, hurtling towards the fight that was unfolding below him.
"I almost wish I could stay a bird forever. I could leave my troubles behind and soar in the clouds forever. My only master would be my whims, and the world would unfold before me, mine to see." The thought was bittersweet, bringing a host of impossibilities that haunted him every night. With the bird equivalent of a sigh, he turned his attention back to the carnage below.
The sounds and stench of war were beginning to fill his nostrils. The intensities of violence churned into a hideous symphony, sending a chill up his spine. All around him were the thunderous cracks of the cannon and musket. The clouds of grey fog they breathed stank of fire and death, filling his host's nostrils with the acidic stench. Those mighty weapons were thundering across the ragged lines of the defenders and attackers alike, each volley followed by yet more burning fog.
The silent whistle of the arrow was all but drowned out by the chaos, their bloody work being the only thing to reveal their existence. The wind and thunder howled their songs into the cacophony, a thousand hungry spirits gorging upon the spectacle unfolding before them. Each crack of lightning was reflected off the multitude of helmets and swords. With every flash came a small ocean of shining metal.
Kayembe began to fly closer to the forms of his righteous men, his keen eyes picking out every unique feature among them. They moved slowly towards the walls, each man calmly firing an arrow before continuing the move. Each action was followed by a prayer, the words lost to the wind. Some Irish marched in a block of pikes behind them, resembling a walking forest with iron leaves as they braved the fire of their foes. The Irish sang in their tongues as they trudged forwards, with men playing drums marching behind them.
The Shaman felt his beak curve into a bizarre interpretation of a smile as he spied the cloaked form of Ayen rushing past the others and towards the walls. The Elf was moving far faster than a human being could hope to match, his large knives catching the light. Amongst the thunder and pouring rain, his cloaked body was hardly noticed by the defenders; as their eyes were drawn to the far louder Bunny Warriors and Legionaries.
"This shall be most interesting." He thought to himself as he flew in closer, his keen eyes watching all from above. Indeed, Kayembe was anything but human, and the Gods blessed him. This war was a gift, and how could he refuse it?
….
Ayen scowled as the thunder rang out, the noise smashing against his skull like a hammer. All around him was horrific noise, but Ayen didn't know if that was from the world around him or last night's wine.
"That's the last time I drink Human wine. Damn stuff's all punch, no flavour." He muttered to himself as he continued to run.
The night before had been an odd experience for him, being a solitary person by necessity. Being around so many Elves after so long was a bittersweet feeling, as for every fond memory, two ugly reminders emerged. Singing those old songs and hearing his tongue was as refreshing as spring rain.
"The lands I called my home were far from the wrath of Sadera. Afri was beautiful, dangerous, and glorious." He thought with a sigh. Even after spending months on this dreary island, the memory of that broiling heat never left his bones.
The terrible rumble of thunder drew his mind back to the present, that familiar heat draining away as the rain pounded his head. All eyes were drawn to the gaping hole in the wall, with the battle cries of Humans and Demihumans echoing in their ears. He spied many siege ladders being hoisted aloft by Bunny Warriors, each woman having a feral grin on her face as they charged ahead. As fast as he was, Ayen could only watch in amazement at the sheer speed of his allies.
"No wonder the Saderans had such trouble fighting them. A single Bunny Warrior could run circles around a Legionary." He watched as their ladders were hoisted against the walls, their axes in hand. Braving the choking smoke, they charged up the ladders. Each woman became a hellion eager to cleave flesh and bone.
Quickly following his comrades in arms, the Elf began scrambling up the siege ladders. The roar of artillery sounded out from the hill, with a small tower shattering under the assault. The Bunny Warrior above him jerked backwards and fell off the tower, her chest now sporting a bloody gash. Where she had once been was a cloud of smoke, bringing an acidic stench that invaded his nose. With a grunt, Ayen flung himself upwards, reaching the top of the ladder and onto the wall.
For a brief moment, he could look down upon the manor below, looking oddly peaceful amongst the madness. The stone walls looked homely, while the walls were sturdy. Outside the walls, however, there was chaos. The air was filled with choking smoke and the madness of war. The walls that he now stood upon were now filled with the shouts of men and the howls of Bunny Warriors.
To his right, a defender had exchanged his musket for a knife in an attempt to fight off a jeering Bunny Warrior. With every desperate slash the man attempted, the woman took a single step forwards. Within a few moments, her axe rose and fell, once, twice, three times. By the end of the second swing, the man was dead, his head split in half. With a vicious grin, she kicked the twitching corpse off the wall.
The singular defenders were being stretched across the entire wall, with more enemies arriving every moment. At such a close range, the formerly dominant musket became little more than a fancy club. Some moved quick enough to attach a blade to the end of their muskets, turning them into spears. Ayen's musings were interrupted by one such weapon causing him to duck underneath the thrust and slash at the man's arms. With a cry, his attacker dropped his makeshift spear, a long bloody gash having opened up on his forearms.
With his attacker distracted, Ayen plunged his knives into the man's chest, punching through the thin leather vest and into the flesh underneath. Ripping his knives out his the dead man's chest, Ayen smirked as he began to run towards the next group of men he saw. His knives had been sheathed too long, it's about time they've gotten some use.
….
"Charge lads! Let's show 'em what for!" Conn bellowed as he rode behind his soldiers. His horse, a mighty black stallion, was grunting heavily with each step as the world seemed to deteriorate around it. The portly Noble watched as the world but he knew died in the fires of this strange and menacing battle. Over the din surrounded him and his men, Conn could hear the chanting of alien beings and foreigners alike. The smoke from his allies' bonfires was a hideous thing to endure, even as the wind pushed it away from the walls.
His pikes marched ahead of him, their sergeants barking orders to stay in formation. Each man had been given a brief round of training, and in Conn's mind, that was dangerous enough.
"It's bad enough that I have to bow to pagans and inhuman beasts. Now they're training fucking peasants how to be soldiers." He grumbled to himself as the thunder ripped through the sky and lightning flashed.
They slowly began to march towards the gap in the walls, as that was a position they could hold. Pikes were a simple tool with simple uses, and Conn knew that plugging a hole with iron-tipped shafts was a perfect use for his men.
"Move yer fucking legs, ya filthy sodden bastards! Do ya want these pagans and their womenfolk to beat us?" He cried at his block of cursing infantry, each man desperately trying to stay in formation as the rain turned the field they stood on into a marsh-filled bog.
"For God and Ireland!" They screamed, surging forwards to finally reach the walls. They had been cracked open to face the elements and the whims of mortal men, almost ten feet across. It wasn't a perfect plan, with more than one pikeman falling to a stray musket ball, but once his men had plunged through, they spilled out to face the inside of Parke's Castle.
It was a simple courtyard with multiple buildings, each one made of the same grey stone as the walls. The walls were alive with the sounds of conflict, that cacophony of wailing and bellowing always made his heart race. The defenders scrambled to face his forces, caught between the savagery of his pagan allies and his pikes. Many drew their knives or swords and charged headlong into the fray, and Conn could do nothing but watch as the melee began.
Irish and Englishmen clashed in the open while the walls sang with the cries of their countrymen. Conn's horse skittered away as a headless corpse toppled off the wall above him. Foul oaths and jeering cries were ripped from both sides, their flesh and blood spilling before his eyes. With each man that fell, be it his own or the enemy, the ground grew harder to stand on. Little by little, the already drenched ground was becoming a disgusting mixture of muck and blood. Despite the madness that unfolded around him, Conn took a moment to marvel at what he was witnessing.
"I'm seeing Legionaries assaulting an enemy stronghold. Archers and catapults rain their ancient payloads onto our modern world, while pagan chants fill the sky. It's horrible to behold, but seeing history being brought to life before your very eyes is a wondrous thing indeed."
But with their backs now turned from the walls, Conn could watch and smirk as his allies began taking the walls one corpse at a time. Soon, howling rabbit women and stone-faced Legionaries were charging into the buildings from the now cleared walls. Windows were smashed and countless singular battles were unfolding out of his sight. As the air was filled with the stench of blood and smoke, whatever morale the enemy had collapsed entirely.
As the world burned around him, Conn O'Brien began to chuckle. Today had been a good day, and it was only going to get better.
…..
With the battle having been won, the victorious soldiers bellowed praise to the Gods, many bowing where they stood to give thanks. Their cries deafened those few that survived the battle, they could do nothing as packs of rabbit-eared women fell upon them. Those that had breached the walls first fought their way to the front, dragging their prey back under the banner of Ragna's Ravagers. The Legion scowled and began dragging their newest property back with them, casting a hateful glare at their allies.
Sitting down on a simple chair in front of the major house, overlooking it all were Legate Gratius and Count Formal. Amongst the chaos that always followed a battle, the Legate stared at the scene around him, scowling all the while. The Count sat and watched, calmly drinking some wine as he did so.
The gangs of Ravagers had mostly returned to their camp, allowing the group of newly arrived merchants to start picking through those that remained.
"Those greedy vultures are the worst examples of Sadera in my opinion. They bend Nobles and Kings with their coin, and men die because of it." He thought with a sigh as he watched them work. "At least Formal uses his wealth for something beyond greed."
During the winter months, a small army of merchants had poured through the Gate and began setting up shop. Everything from butchers to brothels began hawking their goods inside Sligo, which was proving extremely profitable for the Coalition. Every week brought in small mountains of copper, silver and gold coins as everything from local Irish and Demihumans to lesser Nobles spent their money. The markets became something very familiar and completely alien as groups of Mwenye Haki would rub shoulders with Bunny Warriors as they haggled with Irish farmers.
"The winter was the first real break I've had in over a decade. Fighting against the Bunny Warriors kept you up at all times, as any moment could erupt into a brawl. The East was an endless parade of betrayal and poison. This campaign into another world is a relief." He thought to himself, a small smile growing on his face. The rain brought that ever refreshing sensation into his nose, while the thunder showed the might of the Gods.
That smile instantly fell as he looked at the departing Bunny Warriors and their prey. While he knew what Prince Zorzal had done to their people was vile, he never forgot what the Bunny Warriors would do with their captives. "How many times did I find one of my men in their camps? How many times have I found a shell of a man wearing the face of a friend?" That thought swam around his mind, each memory dredging itself from the mired depths of consciousness.
"I've never understood why Sadera thinks Demihumans are inferior." The Legate gestured to the retreating Bunny Warriors. "Take Bunny Warriors, for example, they can move almost twice as quickly as a man and can hear you coming a mile away. Ogres can eat men whole, Centaurs are living cavalry, no, if you ask me, it's Humans that are the weaker species." He said, staring at the faint form of the Orcs up on the hill.
"Why do you think I've been doing all this for the Demihumans? It's partly because I find them fascinating, but also because I worry about mankind's future if we anger them." Formal said with a sigh and a sip of wine. "Yes, Sadera had the upper hand and their vassals kept them subdued, but you're seeing what only a few thousand Bunny Warriors can do." He gestured to the departing women, their laughter echoing into the Legate's ears. "Can you imagine what they can do for us?"
Gratius fixed the Count with a stern glare."I'm more worried about what they'll do after all this is over. Sadera needed ten veteran Legions with Prince Zorzal's Imperial Cavalry to defeat them. And even after all that, it took a traitor to grant us victory." The Legate paused as he saw that the black Ravager flag was held high as several Bunny Warriors dragged their prizes, kicking and screaming, towards their camp. "The Bunny Warriors would have turned mankind into their breeding stock!"
Formal glowered at his ally, narrowing his eyes as he rose from his chair.
"So what, you had no problem with slaughtering innocent farmers? I may not have known about the Ravagers in Lili's ranks, but I know about the path of destruction you left behind!" Count Formal's face was twisted in disgust as he stared at the Legate. "Do you know how long it took to convince Lili and her warriors that you were trustworthy? Do you even care about how many of their sisters or daughters you killed?"
"I had my orders!" Gratius shot back as he stood up, glaring at Formal. With the stump of his left hand, he thrust his arm towards the black Ravager banner. "I hate that flag more than I hate Sadera! The Ravagers are animals, and if I had my chance, I'd put them down!" He bellowed, seemingly towering over Count Formal as his scarred face contorted with rage.
The two men glared at each other, their hands on the hilts of their weapons. They said nothing, each man feeling their blood rush in their ears, while their blades begged for use. Whatever they had intended to do was interrupted by the arrival of the familiar face of Centurion Lars Sarrius. He saluted the two men, his gaze firmly on the Legate. Without a word, he gently placed his hand on his superior's shoulder.
"My Legate, I must speak with you." His words, while stern, were belied by his tone, sounding pleading and tired. Gratius's remaining hand was shaking while Lars gently led him away from Formal. When they were facing the intact walls, the Centurion turned to stare at his Legate.
"You have to get a hold of yourself Gratius, I hate the Ravagers just as much, if not more than you. But Jarl Lili isn't our enemy." Lars said softly, his blue eyes staring at the black clouds overhead.
Gratius sighed, his one hand rubbing his eyes. "Every time I see them, I remember that night Lars. Ever since they arrived in Sligo, I smell blood, I can barely sleep, and all I can hear is you screaming."
"You think I don't? Do you think I don't lie awake at night wanting to slit the throat of that white-haired bitch for what she did to me?" He grimaced, gently squeezing Gratius's arm. "That was a long time ago my love, and Lili had nothing to do with the Ravagers. This will be our last campaign, and then we can rest."
The Legate paused, starting at the Centurion for a moment that stretched on for what felt like forever. "But how do you know it won't happen again? What if we wake to find their knives at our throats?"
"I'm hardly a helpless damsel my Legate, despite what you may think," Lars said with a small smirk, embracing Gratius quickly.
"Well, you would look great in a dress."
He said, a small smile breaking out on his scarred face. The two men kept their embrace for a moment that seemed to last forever. The rain, the thunder, everything faded away until it was just the two of them. They looked into each other's eyes, and the Legate smiled.
"Now, how about we join the lads for a drink?" He said after a deep breath.
"Let me guess, you'll have watered down wine again? You're such a lightweight." Lars said with a chuckle, joining Gratius in his journey towards the sounds of cheering men, the promise of alcohol being as good as a miracle. As they made their way out of the field, the rain began to sputter away, as if the Gods were watching them, and they were pleased.
….
Lili stared across the field, her ears twitching softly as every word poured in. She could hear Gratius as if she was standing right next to him, and she frowned as the man's mask slipped.
"I shouldn't have let the Ravagers join our cause. They're too bloodthirsty, too wild." She thought to herself as she turned to an aide.
"Write this down."
"Yes ma'am"
"Your warriors are proving to be more trouble than they're worth. The Legate is getting anxious, and I fear he'll do something stupid. Either you control your soldiers, or I'll consider our contract void." With a sigh, she dismounted her horse. "Send this to Rodrigo, that disgusting flesh peddler will get it where it needs to go."
As the aide ran off, Lili sneered as she walked toward Count Formal.
"It's better if I keep this to myself. What they don't know can't hurt them." The words rang hollow even to her, but she held on to it for all she was worth as if that would ease her guilt.
….
By the time the Rose Order of Knights saw the walls of Italica, dawn had risen over the Saderan Empire. A blanket of brilliant orange with spectacular clouds had replaced the moon. The sun shone beautifully in all its glory amongst the heavens, lighting the path of those under its ever-watchful eye. Despite the early hour, Princess Pina was beaming with excitement. Her Rose Knights were finally being sent on a mission that mattered!
"No more fighting slavers, no more boring guard duty. We'll finally have our time in the sun!"She thought to herself, a strange sort of glee beginning to form.
She glanced back to see that her fellow knights were sharing her smile, each one riding their shining steeds down the road to Italica.
As they grew closer to that famous city of merchants, Pina marvelled at the grand walls that loomed above her. Every stone of Italica was ancient, built by the first members of the Formal Clan centuries ago. "The founders of the Saderan Empire and the Formal Clan had served together for centuries. Every Emperor since the Arctic War had a Formal serving at their right hand." She thought to herself as her guard thundered towards the gates.
As they rode through the gates and into the city itself, the Rose Knights were greeted by the sights and sounds of the ever-popular markets of Italica. Those cavaliers rode past blacksmiths forging works of art, brewers selling their intoxicating wonders, and the most lively of all markets, slaves. While Count Formal had famously never been a supporter of the slave trade, Pina knew that Saderan law made it all but illegal to oppose it.
As they rode past, those crowds of merchants and slaves alike parted around their cavalry. Many of the commoners gazed at her grand armour and shining lance as if the Gods themselves were before them. The newest members of the Rose Knights stared at their surroundings with the same awe as the commoners. Pina smiled softly at the sight of her banner fluttering in the wind, high above the squalor of the slave markets.
As they made their way through the crowded streets, Pina smiled at the sounds echoing out of every corner of the city of merchants. The clattering of coins was harsh and tinny, while grandly dressed bankers bickered over every last gold piece. The clashing tunes of a thousand instruments and throats rose out from the taverns and the temples alike, pious hymns clashing with crude lyrics. As morning shifted into noon, caravans from the respected Elbe and the hated Mudwan arrived, driving the cavalry onwards to escape the rapidly increasing noise.
After they had exited that grand city, Pina heard one of the scouts shouting ahead of them. "Princess, you'll want to see this!" Gripping her lance, she alongside Grey and Bozes made their way towards the sound of their scout. They thundered down the road, eventually reaching the top of a small hill to join the lightly armoured woman.
"What's the" the question died on her lips as she saw what lay before her. A massive host was marching down the road, a horde of men, women and children on the move. A vast collection of farmers, wanderers and pilgrims clogged the road, with the banner of Count Formal flying over it all.
"An army?" Pina heard the scout ask, her hand dropping to her blade.
"More like a new colony, look at their supplies. I'm seeing more shovels and cattle than swords." Grey, one of her most loyal companions, grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he stared at their backs.
"Well, we're not going to find out anything back here. Let's go sightseeing shall we?" Pina said with a smile, already urging her horse forwards. As she flew down the hill, she heard the faint shouts of her companions, but the Princess of Sadera couldn't wait a moment longer. As he thundered down the hill, Pina noticed that the majority of the crowd wasn't human.
"You there? Where are you going?" She asked as she rode towards the closest cluster, being sure to keep her weapons sheathed and out of sight. As one, the group fell to their knees, allowing Pina to see that this group of fifty were all Elves. They were currently herding several large goats along the path, their eyes wide and their faces pale as they stared at the Princess of Sadera. For a moment, the group said nothing, but a greying Elf rose to his feet and spoke.
"W-we're going towards Alnus Hill, my lady. Count Formal is offering any who can make the trip a plot of land in the conquered lands!"
"How many of you are there?" Pina asked, staring at the massive host that slowly shuffled down the road.
"I couldn't begin to guess my lady, all I know is that since the winter months began, peasants and former slaves have been rushing towards the Gate. My clan began the journey two weeks ago, but we're hardly the only Elves to make the trip." The older Elf said with a slight bow, his blue eyes staring into her burgundy.
Pina nodded and continued her way down the road, noticing just how true the elf's words were. Hundreds of Elves wearing little more than rags and many still bearing their chains shuffled furtively forwards. Only a few had anything the Princess could deem a weapon, as many more clutched rusted farming tools in their gnarled hands.
Demihumans of all stripes were amongst the crowd, with flocks of sirens taking to the skies and the nomadic Cat Folk with their ever-present caravans being the most obvious. Most were barely above the status of slaves, with many wearing little more than rags. But more than a few wore grand clothes and armour, armed with sturdy blades and stout shields.
The sounds of exotic music and tongues filled the air as these untold thousands mingled amongst themselves. The loud yowling of the Cat Folk mixed with the musical language of the Elves; while Sirens chirped whimsically. Countless kinds of Humans had joined the throng, being just as varied as the Demihumans. Some being from nearby Italica to the farthest reaches of the East. Every so often, groups of soldiers bearing the colours of Italica marched alongside the column, handing out slips of paper and what food they could spare.
"Count Formal's charity at work I see." Pina turned at the sound of Bozes, one of her senior commanders, voice, a slight smile on her face as she looked at the scene. The soldiers were well-armed and armoured, not as grand as the Italican House Guard, but still a cut above the average men at arms. They calmly talked with each group and handed slips of paper and food too. As they continued down the line, they paused as the large group of cavalry towered over them.
"My lady, what brings you to these parts?" The head soldier asked, a cautious tone to his voice while a nervous smile was plastered on his face.
"I've come to join the campaign on behalf of His Majesty, and I would speak with Count Formal as soon as possible," Pina replied, slipping into the role of a Noble.
"Of course my lady, Count Formal would be overjoyed to have your support."
"What are you handing out to these people?" She asked, seemingly brushing aside the man's reply, knowing that it was mostly out of fear. Without a word, the man handed her the simple sheet of paper, allowing the Princess to look it over.
"The lands of Ireland are open to all who can take it! All who arrive through the Gate will be given a plot of land suitable for their needs. Under the laws of Italica, Demihumans are protected and may hold land. Service in the Legion or Auxiliaries will grant land upon retirement, alongside steady pay. Come forth, join the newest frontier!" When Pina finished reading the paper, the majority of the Rose Knights had begun forming around her, their hands on their weapons. Waving them away, Pina stared at the man in front of her, one last time before urging her house past him.
"Come on, we must have a chat with the Count about all this." She sighed, urging her forces alongside the mass of colonists. As they thundered down the road, Pina couldn't help but state in awe at the grandeur that was rising on top of Alnus Hill.
The sacred ground of Alnus Hill was swarmed by Humans and Demihumans alike, a cacophony of different tongues rising into the air. Elban Knights with their plate mail, Algunan Ogre Auxiliaries with gargantuan clubs, countless merchant caravans, it was barely controlled chaos. The heavy cavalry of the Rose Knights, usually a mighty boon, was becoming a liability amongst the crushing weight of the crowds. The throngs moved sluggishly in the horrific gaze of the sun, with the top of Alnus Hill being completely still. The mass of people was shouting and shoving
"What's the hold-up?" Pina barked, the heat of the sun turning her beautiful armour into a broiling coffin.
"A wagon broke just in front of Hardy's Gate my lady." One of the light cavalries replied, their horse panting in the sweltering heat.
"At this rate, we'll be stuck on this Hill until next winter! Let's go and help them then." With a slight kick to her horse's flank, the armoured equine gently parted the sea of bodies around her.
As her host of cavalry followed her towards the entrance of Hardy's Gate, Pina marvelled at the magnificent structure that loomed over all things. The sheer size of the holy artifact brought a cooling shadow, blotting out the sun for a glorious moment. Each stone was older than anything Pina knew, and if the tales were true, then all things in the world came from the Gate. The Gods, craving entertainment, had brought countless new souls into their lands, and Pina couldn't help but wonder what the arrival of the Gate meant for the Empire.
"Every time the Gate arrived war and disaster soon followed. The boorish old men in the Senate see only the wealth it brings, but the peasants suffer. Why else would countless risk death by a bandit or angered nobles to endure this new land? Count Formal is a good man, that much is known, but I wonder why he alone is leading this expedition." She thought to herself, so consumed by her pondering that she barely noticed that she'd stopped moving.
The Gate loomed over her, its entrance little more than a blank void that swallowed all light. It seemed to drag the afternoon's heat along with it, sending a chill down Pina's back. But the Princess's eyes were drawn to the wreckage before her. It had once been a simple cart attached to a stubborn horse, the mountain of books being easily twice as tall as a man. But now that looming mound of knowledge had spilled onto the dirt path, alongside half of the cart, a shattered wheel being the source of the delay.
Pina alongside several of her Knights quickly dismounted and began picking up the seemingly endless books. Standing next to the rather frantic horse was an old man with a black hat and grey eyes. He was muttering into the horse's ear as the beast was slowly being calmed down, while a blue-haired girl was slowly picking up each book and placing it back on the cart. Little by little, that mountain of books was shrinking until after what felt like forever, the texts were back on the cart, being lashed down with rope. The old man bowed his head softly, a smile on his wrinkled features.
With a smile and a nod, Pina remounted her horse and gestured for her comrades to do the same, watching in amazement as the blue-haired girl began to chant. It was soft, almost completely drowned out by the noise all around her, but with every breath, it grew louder. The shattered wheel that lay next to her began to shudder and twitch on the ground as if wracked with cold. As her chanting grew louder, the shattered pieces slowly began fusing back together as if they had never been broken. What had once been dozens of pieces had become one, the now complete wheel sluggishly rolled back onto its spot, shuddering for a final time before going still.
"Why didn't she do that earlier?" Pina muttered to herself with a soft chuckle as her Rose Knights returned to their horses.
"You know mages, they'll always find an excuse to show off," Grey said with a deep chuckle as he urged his horse towards the Gate's entrance.
Pina stared into that void and felt a mixture of excitement and fear swirling around her gut. With a deep breath, she lightly kicked her horse's flank, urging the beast through the entrance. The moment she passed through the entrance, the merciless heat of the sun vanished, being replaced by a frigid chill. Several of the Knights began to light torches as the cold began to creep into their bones.
The lights of those torches brought little comfort to the Rose Knights, however, as they showed the void that surrounded them. For a void was the only way she could describe what was around her. All around her cavalry was darkness, their horses walking on nothing as they trotted forwards. Despite the lack of a road or even solid ground, the horses continued their trotting pace, each Rose Knight guiding the beast where instinct failed.
There was no sound in the void, and with each noise that they made, Pina felt more and more uneasy. It seemed to her like she was intruding upon a realm that mortal beings had no right to enter. The air felt stale and stagnant on her tongue, and each breath hurt her chest. The longer she stayed here, the more a certain stench began to fill her nose.
"Something's rotting in here. But we're alone here, what's making that smell?" She thought to herself, her grip tightening on her reins.
"Your Highness! Behind us!" She heard Hamilton yell.
Turning around in her saddle, Pina looked behind her to catch a glimpse of the way they came, only to see that it had vanished, trapping them completely inside the void. All around them echoed the sounds of grinding stone as if the Gate itself was collapsing on top of them. The shadows, once little more than a formless void, were beginning to take shape.
Out of the shadows came an army of wraiths, their heraldry lost to the darkness while their shrunken, gaunt faces glared into the eyes of the living. Spectral towers emerged seemingly from nowhere, their sentries staring at them with unblinking eyes. Surrounding this vast legion came a sea of wretched things, their skin like smoke with translucent rags hanging off their carcasses. Each one moaned curses out of gaping maws, their skeletal hands reaching towards the light.
"By the Gods…" Pina breathed, her horse nervously pacing about as the stench of death invaded its nose.
With every breath, the host of spirits drew closer all around them. The air was rapidly filling with their blood-curdling hissing and chilling moans. The few torches that once brought warmth and light did little to ward off the nightmares in front of the grandly armoured Knights.
The chorus of a thousand bells suddenly rang into the void, each one a different pitch, and each one sorrowful. As those mighty tones entered Pina's ears, she felt a chill run up her spine. Countless visions began, unbidden to play out in her mind, none of them kind. Each one was a possible death, be it slaughtered on the battlefield, her flesh picked apart by scavengers. Or was it tortured in an enemy's dungeon, her body and mind little more than screaming meat. But the most shameful was being left to rot in a brothel's back alley, her entire being spent to nothing.
Each moment of these horrific scenes played out, every minute detail burning into her mind. Despite her horror, she saw them all. She could taste the blood on her lips, her limbs growing numb, and tears were beginning to fall down her cheeks.
"Princess, what do we do?" Hamilton, her aide asked as she violently shook in her saddle.
Pina glanced over to her Rose Knights and found that all of them were affected similarly to how she was. Some had gone pale, staring at nothing, while others had drawn their weapons and swiped at the air. With each chime of the bells, the ghostly host howled, their wails being just as horrific as the visions. With a deep breath, Pina turned to her aide.
"We keep moving, there must be a way out of here. Our armies marched through this void, and I'll be damned if we can't do the same!" She exclaimed, snatching the standard out of Hamilton's hands and waving it above her head. "To Hardy's realm and beyond, my sisters! That's my promise to the Emperor, so don't you dare make a liar out of me!" She bellowed with a sneer on her face as she gazed at the brilliant heraldry that she held above her head.
For a moment, her Knights did nothing, staring at her with glassy eyes. Then, one by one, they began to draw their lances. The newest members pulled out horns and flutes, striking up a rowdy cry that was picked up by the light cavalry. Many more began to sing praises to Emroy, that the God of War would bless their blades, to Duncan, that God of Smiths would watch over their armour.
The Rose Knights began to form into several wedge formations, their lances and heavy armour glinting in the ever-dimming torchlight. Many smiled with half-mad grins as they stared at the horror in front of them. Some told jokes to spite their fear, and their laughter was an odd addition to the cacophony around them. With one hand clutching the standard and the other holding a beautifully decorated sword, Pina Co Molt, Princess of Sadera, charged the enemy.
The sounds of those hideous bells filled the sky, while the army of spectres sluggishly formed their ranks. Shields slammed down onto the non-existent ground, while ghostly spears were held in skeletal hands. All around the Rose Knights came to the hissing battle cries of the dead, those wretched souls trampling each other in their mad pell-mell to smother the light. Such a sight was horrific to behold, but it merely drove those gallant cavaliers onwards towards the foe.
"The only way out of this is straight ahead! Let them have it!" Pina bellowed, waving the standard feverishly as her Knights bellowed out their final praises to the Gods. The closer she got to the foe, the time seemed to slow to a crawl. Pina felt as if she could make out every minute detail of her enemy. Their translucent faces, their grinning skulls, everything down to the shimmering armour.
The moment of impact was unlike anything Pina expected. Instead of over a ton of armour, horse and rider crushing flesh and blood, she felt nothing. Her Rose Knights slammed straight through their unliving enemies, their lances punching through nothing while hooves slammed against the floor. Their momentum carried them forwards, even as the dead continued to chase them. Those legions of ghosts that the cavalry had slammed through reformed as if nothing had happened. Their shields locked together in testudo formations and they slowly began following their attackers.
"Keep moving!" Pina yelled, urging her horse to even greater speeds, even as the faithful steed panted and frothed at the mouth.
Her host barrelled through the void, the sounds of their foes never leaving their ears. It didn't matter how far they galloped, those horrid bells still filled the empty sky. The longer they rode, the larger the void became. It was entirely flat, with no hills, valleys, or even rocks to guide them.
"Princess, we must rest! The horses can't take much more!" Grey shouted over the din of the bells and thundering cavalry. His stern features were tired and worn, while his horse's eyes were rolling in their sockets.
"Just a little longer! We can't let them catch us!" She yelled back, the din of horns and bells was almost deafening.
The cavalry continued their endless ride, the darkness growing thick as oil as the torches slowly died. Those horrid bells slowly began to fade away, leaving only the sounds of grunting horses and clattering hooves. How long they rode, Pina didn't know, but when she felt her horse's legs trembling under their weight, she called for a rest. Beasts and knights alike sighed with relief as the former was given what little water could be spared.
The knights began lighting more torches, each woman marching in formations as they clutched their blades. The veteran men tended to the horses, doing what they could to calm them down. Tents were quickly set up, their occupants sleeping lightly in case their enemies found them. Pina herself stood in the middle of her tent, the torches outside giving her little light.
"Where are we?" She asked aloud, sipping from the wineskin whose contents had long grown warm.
"That's a complicated question, Princess of Sadera." A voice hissed out from behind her, one that sent chills up Pina's back.
Even before the intruder had finished speaking, Pina had whirled around and drew her sword from its scabbard. Her blade had found itself resting on the cheek of the intruder, keeping her still, even as a calm smile was on her face. For it was a woman that stood in front of her, one with long white hair with grey eyes.
"Who the hell are you?" Pina said with a sneer, her blade slowly pressing against the intruder's cheek. Despite this, not a single drop of blood fell onto Pina's blade.
"Come now, where's the fun in telling you that?" The intruder said with a sly smile, those strange blue eyes burrowing into her own.
"What's to stop me from having you cast in irons and dragged along with us through this hell? If you want to have fun, I'd be more than happy to oblige." The princess replied, quickly putting a smirk on her face even as her stomach squirmed.
"As much fun as that would be, I have a feeling that you have more important things to deal with than myself." As if to prove her point, those horrific bells began to ring again, faintly but still audible. "You and your Knights seemed so fascinating, I couldn't help but come see what the fuss was about. Frankly, I'm quite impressed. The intruder said with a smile.
"A group of women pushing against their stagnant society, eager for approval even as their menfolk sharpen their blades. Oh, what a story this is!"
"I'm so glad we're fascinating to you, but you're going to tell me how to get out of here."
"Or what? You'll chop off my head? I'm unarmed and alone, that's no way to kill someone." The intruder said with a smug grin on her face.
"We're trapped in this nightmare, I'm sure the Emperor would understand." Pina said with a scowl, her grip on her blade tightening.
"Oh I know all about the Emperor, his victims curse his name constantly."
"Traitors and barbarians are hardly victims."
"Regardless, you're trapped here, and your royal blood is meaningless to them. If they get their hands on you….I fear what would become of your soul. The intruder's voice was dripping with a snide glee that sent a chill up the Princess's spine.
"And do you know of souls? The God of War would welcome me into his halls should I fall."
"Not if you're trapped in the Gate, this is Hardy's realm. Whatever dies here belongs to her for all time."
"And how would you know that?"
"You haven't figured it out yet? And here I thought you were the smart member of your family." She said with a cruel laugh, the point of Pina's blade cutting the flesh further. Like before, no blood touched her blade. The intruder took a step towards Pina, the unstained blade cutting deeper and deeper into her face. Within the span of a breath, the intruder had nearly carved off her jaw, her gaze boring into Pina's very soul. With a hideous clicking noise that was an attempt at laughter, the intruder spoke.
"You know who I am, daughter of Sadera. I am She who rules the dead, I am She who commands the dark. Kings and peasants alike pray that I turn my eye from them, and it is I who reaps age upon mortal life. I am Hardy, Goddess of Death, Queen of the Underworld, and your new master." As the Goddess spoke, her body faded away into shadow, reforming right in front of Pina, a smug smile on her face.
Pina gaped at the Goddess in front of her, dropping to her knees as quickly as she could, her blade on the ground. The longer she knelt before the Goddess, Pina felt her limbs going numb as if her body was shutting down in the mere presence of this deity. The mere act of forcing her head upwards to stare at Hardy's face felt momentous. Her lungs burned, and her body was wracked with chills as she locked eyes with the Goddess. Even as her mouth felt like a block of marble, Pina forced herself to speak.
"It is the greatest honour to be in your presence, Lady Hardy. How may I, and my Rose Knights, be of service to you?" For a brief moment, the Goddess said nothing, that smug grin never leaving her face. With a small chuckle, Hardy waved her hands in the air.
The brazier in her tent dimmed as if a mighty wind had blown through it, casting a cloud of smoke into the air. It swirled about before Pina's eyes, shifting about until it formed a structure.
It was a large collection of immense stones, arranged in a simple circle. Despite the simplicity, Pina couldn't help but marvel at it. It held that modest grandeur that those ancient forests held, from which it was said that the trees were alive. Despite these stones being made of smoke, the Princess couldn't help but feel that a faint humming was rising out of those ancient stones.
"What is this? I've read about many holy sites, be it of our Gods or those in the East, but I've never seen anything like this before." She said, putting a hand on her chin, feeling a faint sense of excitement despite the situation.
"This is called Stonehenge, and it is older than all of Falmart's kingdom put together." The Goddess's voice was dripping with smug pride as she spoke as if she had crafted them herself.
"Millennia ago, my Gates were spread across countless worlds, bringing with them all sorts of beings. Be it the Snake men of the Southern Deserts or your forefathers; I had a hand in bringing them all here." Hardy waved her hand once more, and the smoke billowed towards Pina, churning and swirling around until it surrounded her.
The smoke formed a vast scene around her, large islands loomed around her, while a brooding sea stretched off in the distance. The choking fumes of the smoke were suddenly replaced by the cries of birds and the crashing of waves; and soon the Princess found that she was soaring above it all, looking down on the scene below.
"Is this how the Gods see us? Little amusements to stare at?" She thought, not wanting to move in case it shattered the scene playing out in front of her.
Her gaze was drawn back to the now named Stonehenge, surrounded by savage warriors armed with clubs and spears. They barked in a crude tongue and danced around the stones, carrying torches and crude drums. As they chanted and danced, those ancient stones began to glow as strange runes floated in the air, and a vast dark portal soon split the heavens. Hordes of Humans and Demihumans spilled out into the clearing, slaughtering the stunned onlookers. Despite the lack of sound, Pina winced at the sight of countless jeering Ogres ripping men apart with their bare hands. Of Centaurs crushing bones with their hooves or of Dragons roasting flesh with gouts of fire.
"Stonehenge was my attempt at keeping a Gate open permanently, to allow me and my fellow Gods to gain power in whatever lands we wished. But as time went on, our followers began to be too difficult to control. They asked more, no, they demanded more from me. So I left Stonehenge unfinished, once a symbol of power, reduced to a pile of stones. And with it being incomplete, my Gate closed, leaving only legends of horrific monsters and demons behind."
Again the scene changed, with armies of men dressed in the armour of Saderan Legionaries marching through the countryside. Their armour was grand, and the earth shook under their feet. Thousands of these Legionaries marched directly underneath the shadow of the Gate without fear, their eyes turned towards the darkness. Cavalry bearing standards trotted in the back, with a one-eyed man smirking at the sight.
"A lesser-known Legate, whose name was lost to time in his world. Cast aside by his Empire, I beckoned him through my Gate."
As Hardy spoke, the scene swirled and reformed into a mighty forest. Oceans of greenery blocked out the sun, while this unknown Legion feverishly fought against painted warriors. Savages armed with crude axes and spears charged their shield walls, while their shamans brought gouts of flame from the heavens. All this played out in complete silence, but everything down to the drops of sweat on the men's faces had been recorded.
"The world that he found was filled with savage tribes and barbarous Demihumans, a perfect place for a new Empire to grow. Out of the darkness of history, he cemented his vision, which you now call the Saderan Empire."
The forests slowly melted away as wooden bulwarks and stone walls replaced the ocean of green. Rabbit trails were slowly changed into those famous paved roads, and a collection of tents became what she recognized instantly as the Imperial Capital of Sadera. Painted savages soon became the mighty Legion, while the barbaric tribes of men were visualized under the boot of Sadera. The First Emperor's name was spread across countless lands. His Empire was rich, and its glory was known across the whole world, his legacy in every stone that paved the streets.
Hardy's tone shifted, sounding somewhat excited about what she was saying.
"But now that my Gate has opened again in the world that spawned your beloved Empire. I'm very interested in seeing what has become of it, and of Stonehenge."
"Do you want me to destroy Stonehenge? To ensure that your Gates can be closed properly?" Pina asked, feeling her shock swirling around her guts like a snake.
"Why is she showing me this? Why bother with this history lesson?" She thought to herself, keeping her face calm and composed despite her fear.
"Destroy it? Oh no, that would be impossible for you, no, my Apostle would be needed for that. I need you to urge the coalition towards greater conquests. Tell them of the riches they would gain, of the power they could grasp. I want to see what sort of men these latest conquerors are. Perhaps they shall be worthy of my Gate, perhaps not. All I know is that I'm bored in Falmart and that it's time for something exciting!" She said with a haunting titter.
"And if I refuse to risk my life and the lives of my Knights for the Goddess of Death?" Pina asked, keeping her hand on the hilt of her sword even as her head pulsed with pain the longer she stayed in Hardy's presence.
Her divine guest chuckled softly, a sound that echoed into the air alongside those horrific bells. Each note brought those vile visions back into her mind, but she gritted her teeth and tried to stare Hardy down.
"Even if she kills me, at least I can say I held my ground." That thought rolled around her mind as her mouth filled with bile as the visions continued to tear through her mind.
"You're a smart woman, I'll let you figure that out." Hardy's face seemed to decay as she spoke, becoming withered and dead before Pina's eyes. "Whether you like this or not, you will carry out my orders. Unless you wish to be trapped here for all time, being torn apart by my servants…you'll agree." By the time she had finished speaking, her face had rotted away to reveal a grinning skeleton, her pale bones barely concealed by her cloak.
For a long moment, the Princess of Sadera did nothing, staring at the twisted corpse before her, and with a sigh, she nodded. "Better that we survive to find a way to undo this than to die here. Being brave in the face of death is one thing, but I'd rather be alive to congratulate myself." She thought to herself ruefully as she stared at the deity before her.
The Goddess of Death clapped her hands together in a hideous mockery of human emotion, her empty sockets gazing into Pina's soul. Her laugh was as unsettling as the bells, sounding like a gargled hiss.
"Splendid! I can't wait to see your glorious knights in action! Live, die, you serve me nonetheless!" With a hideous cackle, the air around Pina began to churn like oil.
All around her came the buzzing of a thousand flies, the writhing of worms and maggots, and the sweet stench of rot began to fill her nose. Those hated bells rang out, again and again, each time sounding louder than the last until she felt them inside her bones. The ringing sent her crashing to her knees, her hands clasped over her ears as if mere flesh could block out a Goddess.
The nightmare that surrounded her only increased in volume and noise, until it felt like with every breath Pina took, maggots filled her mouth. The churning air began to thicken, becoming a thick sludge that blocked out the dim light of the brazier. As the light faded away, Pina felt the air vanish from her body, leaving only a burning pain in its place. In an instant, she felt her body collapse onto the ground, the last thing she saw before everything faded was that garishly grinning skull.
…..
The first thing Pina noticed was the rain. Even before she regained her sight, she felt the rain on her helmet and heard the sounds of thunder. Those blessed sheets of water chased away the taste of rot from her tongue, while the wind felt like silk on her face. When her sight returned, she looked around to see the entirety of her Rose Knights, each one mounted and in full armour. They muttered to each other and looked around, noticing the world around them for the first time.
It was a stark contrast to the land they left behind, the broiling heat being replaced by sheets of rain. The air was filled with thunder while the rain felt as wonderful as her bath back home. Taking a deep breath of the beautifully fresh air, Pina looked at her immediate surroundings.
It was a sprawling town, filled with cobblestone streets and odd buildings, with alien script on signs and shops. Legionaries marched in on patrol through the streets, while more than a few were drunkenly staggering out of the countless taverns. Merchant stalls were open, hawking their goods with the frenzied abandon that their sort possessed. Despite the Gate's presence, the crowds that filled the streets paid it little mind. Her Rose Knights in their grand armour did catch some eyes, with many falling to their knees.
Pina turned and frowned at the looks of confusion and despair on her Knight's faces, and drew her sword high in the air.
"Rose Knights! Parade formation!" She yelled, watching her soldiers jolt to life. Within moments, they formed into two single-file lines, those who had banners let them fly. The purple standard of Sadera flew next to the heraldry of the Rose Knights, the harsh wind sending them into a frenzy. The sound of their gilded horseshoes clattering against the pavement was mostly drowned out by the horns and flutes they played.
"Your Highness, what in the name of the Gods happened back there?" The grumbling voice of Grey broke Pina's concentration, drawing her back to reality. The aging man's face was a mask of neutrality, with only his eyes showing his frustration and confusion.
"It's too much to explain now, Grey. Once we settle down for the night, gather the officers and I'll explain everything." As she spoke, Pina matched expressions to her mentor's, as the eyes of the crowds were upon them.
With a single nod, the grey-haired man fell back into formation, his gaze forever ahead.
"Now all I need to do is find Count Formal, and then the glory we are owed shall be ours." She thought to herself, ignoring the faint taste of rot that coated her tongue. With a resounding cheer, her Rose Knights began making their way towards their newest adventure, leaving the void behind and into a new world.
…..
The battle was over, and to Father Dominic, the real conflict was beginning. For the past several hours, he had travelled with the invading soldiers, and he had been horrified at what he saw.
The invading Coalition forces savagely fell upon the surrounding countryside. Villages were either forced to submit or face the yoke of slavery, with lines of men and women being dragged back to Sligo. For every one man that submitted to their new heathen masters, ten more were dragged away, allowing the hordes of nonhumans and pagans to claim their land. Ever since they had arrived, he spied their blasphemous idols and shrines spreading throughout the county, and he could do nothing but pray to God that His saints would show him a miracle.
But if the Lord above was watching, He did nothing as Ireland was defiled by the godless. Churches were sacked regularly despite promises by the leaders of the Coalition. Those wild rabbit women would act as the Norse of old did, raiding the sacred treasures, slaying and seizing those who resisted. The foreign dark-skinned zealots would be led by their shamans in wild prayers outside the churches, with their chants drowning out the violence all around them.
The Legionaries would steal weapons and whatever money they could find, some working together to drag tables and clocks away. Those grandly armoured knights, their beautiful helmets and gorgeous capes being a startling contrast to their violence. They would charge straight over fleeing men and women, their horses crushing bone with startling ease.
As he walked alongside a large caravan of merchants, a village still burning behind them, Father Dominic cursed himself. "I should have let them kill me. Instead, I watch these invaders slaughter my people." His stomach churned violently the longer he looked at the lines of men behind him. Soldiers, farmers, it mattered not to the invaders, all were put in chains. Their captors celebrated their victories with wild displays of debauchery, drinking, rutting and fighting amongst themselves.
"This is horrific!" He said to himself as he stared at the lines of his countrymen before him.
"War's ugly Priest, that's the way of things. Your people have simply forgotten this fact." A rumbling voice spoke from behind him, her arrival heralded by her thundering steps.
Lady Devika Rutilius marched through the mud, a grand red coat draped over her muscular form. She wore a simple pair of custom-made trousers and a shirt, the masculine cut making her look all the more striking. At thirty years old, she was a decade younger than him, but she was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.
An ornate tobacco pipe billowed a bluish-black cloud into the air as she walked. She clutched the pipe as she walked, her strong hands being more than capable of snapping the wood. With a smug smile on her tusked face, she walked up to Dominic.
"You people act horrified when war comes for you as if violence happens to everyone but you. Our warriors will try to ensure that your flock remains free, but honestly, you Irish look the same to us." As she spoke, she blew more smoke into the air, her single grey eye burrowing into his soul.
"Violence is a result of a sinful world my lady, and it is always horrible. While I'm sure that Lucifer sent this vile invasion as a punishment, even your pagan mind understands that." He snapped before his mind could catch up with his mouth. The knowledge that this towering being could crush his skull with one hand suddenly became very apparent.
For a moment, Devika was silent, one eyebrow raised. She stepped closer so that her shadow wrapped around him completely. She stretched out one large hand to cup his chin, wrenching his head upwards to stare directly into her eye. Dominic knew he wasn't a short man, but at seven feet tall, the green-skinned giant made him feel utterly insignificant. He felt her heartbeat thunder through her hand, and it shook his bones.
"Merciful Lord, grant me strength." He thought as the giant smirked softly, her fingers brushing his lip. The feeling sent a small shock through his body, and he felt like he was fused with the ground. Any protest or coherent thought that may have been brewing inside his mind fizzled away to nothing. Each second felt like an eternity, while his heart pounded like thunder in his chest and his blood rushed through his ears like an ocean.
"No one's ever insulted me like that before." She mused, almost whispering to the Priest as she spoke. "Mostly people mock my tusks, insult my intelligence, but I've never been called an unholy terror before." With each word she spoke, small trails of smoke lazily escaped her mouth, smothering his face.
Dominic coughed as the burning fumes invaded his nose and mouth, feeling ever more dominated by the giant in front of him. That burning stench coated his tongue and stung his throat, and it was only the hand of the Orc on his face that kept him from fleeing.
"My Lady, I need you too…" Dominic's voice was cut off as the Orc's grip tightened softly on his chin, the force reminding him of who was in charge. Her thumb was lightly pressing against his lips, making them pucker around them.
"Even now, your life in my hands, you demand something of me? I like your backbone, Father Dominic. It's most entertaining." Her voice became a throaty purr that sent an odd thrill up and down his spine. The longer Dominic was in her presence, the more lustful thoughts began to stir in his mind. He closed his eyes as he felt his body move in ways it hadn't in years.
"You're a man of the cloth! What are you doing!?" He thought desperately to himself as he was swallowed up in the inhuman woman's shadow before him.
"My dear priest, I'd like to discuss your faith at a later date, perhaps in my quarters this evening?" Devika's voice sent another shiver down his spine, and Dominic felt her thumb leave his lips.
"A-as you command my lady." He gasped out, feeling incredibly weak as he did so.
With a final smirk that trailed smoke, the Lady of Yatra leaned down so that she was eye to eye with the Priest. Her breath was hot, while pipe smoke smothered his face, bringing tears to his eyes.
"Excellent, you bring your book, and I'll bring the wine."
As she removed her hand, he felt somewhat lesser for it, the warmth it brought vanishing. He felt the urge to follow, to feel her again. He took a step forward, watching her leave, a cloud of smoke billowing out of her mouth. As she left, each breath was easier, that foul pipe smoke leaving his mouth. With a trembling hand, he clutched the rosary that was around his neck, closing his eyes and began to pray.
"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen." He muttered to himself, trying to walk forwards and ignore the chaos raging internally and externally.
Father Dominic, Priest of the Catholic Church, shuffled forwards through the mud. His flesh and spirit raging against themselves, the cries of the enslaved echoing in his ears. The stench of the burning village behind him swirled about in his nose as the wind shifted. With it came the metallic odour of spilled blood and the heady scent of wine, a cloud that followed the victorious soldiers and warned all of their arrival.
"This world has gone mad my Lord. Please send us a miracle, deliver us from the pagan hordes…before it is too late."
With one final glance at the death and destruction behind him, Father Dominic began to follow the lines of slaves and captors, the sounds of clanking chains filling his ears.
…
And so ends another chapter of Blood, Iron and Gold. I hope you all enjoyed it and please let me know what you think. It's the only way I'll get better after all.
Stay classy, stay awesome and have a lovely day!