Chapter 6: The Black Tower (I)

Roderick ran as fast as he could. He had intended to finish his tasks in the farm as soon as possible to have time to attend the farewell ceremony, but he had not counted on the fact that the pigs would escape and run into the forest, forcing him to waste hours searching for the hogs in that labyrinth of trees. When he finally managed to bring the animals back, the sun had already set and the night cloak had taken over the sky.

He prayed to the goddess that it would not be too late.

"Today we bid farewell to our cherished Nicole, who departs today to receive the highest honors in the sacrosanct White Citadel!"

The voice of the village elder was audible despite the distance. Roderick had to try harder in his run, for he knew he would not make it in time. He had already missed the chance to talk to her one last time, but he at least wanted to be there to see her off, to see her face one last time.

"May the Goddess Reborn bless her path, and may this be just the first of many blessings to come for our village!"

The young man finally arrived at the meeting point where the ceremony was being held. Pushing and shoving, he had to move through the huge crowd that had formed, struggling to make his way to the front. He was finally able to escape from that gathering of people, but by the time he did, Nicole had already climbed into the carriage.

"W-wait!"

His shout was drowned out by the hundreds of shouts of joy and congratulations from the other villagers. For a brief moment he could see her beautiful face through the carriage window, but that brief moment of happiness was interrupted by the lowering of the curtains that blocked all view from the interior.

Finally, the carriage pulled away, leaving behind the small village and Roderick, who could only look down in frustration.

He had arrived too late.

The black-haired man worked on the fields half-heartedly, making little effort to lift and lower the tool. He still could not forgive himself for missing the opportunity to talk to Nicole one last time. He barely ate, barely slept, and barely did anything but grudgingly work on the land ever since that day. He replayed scenarios in his mind, constantly imagining how things would have been if he had made different decisions regarding the situation with Nicole, almost losing himself in an imaginary fantasy world.

He cursed himself for not having had the courage to confess his feelings for her in the years they had known each other since childhood, he cursed the cardinal who had just a week before discovered Nicole and declared her a chosen one of the goddess; he even committed the blasphemy of cursing the Goddess Reborn for having decided to choose Nicole as one of her maidens.

"Damn it!" he shouted as he brought the hoe down forcefully to the ground.

He could not help but feel frustrated by his situation. He was nothing more than a simple farmer's son, not so poor as to starve, but not so rich as to enjoy prestige. He was neither ugly nor handsome, just ordinary, with nothing to boast about except his strong arms, the fruit of years of toil in the fields. He knew that even if he had confessed to Nicole, nothing he could offer her would compare to the life she would have in Ken as Celestine's maiden.

It seemed that fate itself had seen to it that he would never be able to be with Nicole.

"Hey, Rodie!" said a familiar voice.

He tried to ignore that voice, pretend he had not heard it and continue with his work.

"Rodie, hey Rodie, Rodie!" the voice insisted.

"My name is Roderick, damn it!" the black-haired man finally shouted back.

"So you were listening to me after all!" the voice crooned victoriously.

He sighed in defeat and finally looked up and turned his attention to where the voice was coming from. There he could see a young man jumping over the wooden fence, running towards him with a goofy grin on his face. It was a brown-haired man, shorter in build than him, so much so that he could hardly believe they were the same age.

"What the hell do you want, Andrew?" asked Roderick warily.

"Wow, someone's in a bad mood - is it because of Nicole? If it makes you feel any better, even if you had managed to get there on time, she still would have preferred a life of luxury in the capital rather than a poor farmer," Andrew said with a chuckle.

Roderick had to use his willpower and remember all the years of friendship he had with him to resist the sudden impulse to blow out all his teeth at that comment.

"I'm working, if you want someone to waste your time find someone else," Roderick said as he turned his back on the brown-haired man, returning to his work in the field.

"Don't be like that, man!" Andrew laughed as he patted him on the back. "I've come to give you the big news. Remember the rumors about the possible recruitment? Well I've confirmed them, as a representative came by this morning."

He stopped instantly as soon as he heard that.

"Really?!" he exclaimed in excitement. "You're not lying to me, are you? Because if you are..."

"I swear on the goddess's tits that I don't lie," he proclaimed confidently. "Besides, I have something to prove it."

That said, he started rummaging around behind him and soon pulled out something that made Roderick startle. They were a pair of steel daggers, sharp and imposing to look at, certainly the kind of weapon that should not be in the hands of someone like Andrew.

"You're looking at none other than the handsome new member of the scout unit!" declared Andrew with vainglory.

"You're now a… scout?"

"They noticed my extreme agility and natural talent, so they basically begged me to join," Andrew proclaimed, without even trying to sound humble.

"They wanted you because you're a midget, that's all."

Andrew merely snorted at that.

"Are you jealous that I can leave this backwater village and live a life full of adventure?" Andrew asked teasingly as he folded his arms. "Because if so, instead of dying of envy you could come and try it out and see if you get recruited."

That proposal surprised the farmer. Between the painful memory of Nicole and Andrew's annoyance, the idea of being able to apply had completely passed him by.

"Me? Recruited?" he said hesitantly. "I really don't know..."

"Come on, man! With those arms of yours you'll have no trouble lifting a sword or something," Andrew insisted as he encouragingly patted his back. "Besides, if you get enough fame and glory, you could end up in Ken. And you know the rumors? They say that the Goddess Reborn compensates the strongest warriors with her own maidens."

Roderick startled. "She does!?"

"Is that a spark of interest I'm seeing?" asked the brown-haired man with a chuckle. "Then it's settled, let's go!"

Before he could say anything, Roderick was forcefully pushed by his enthusiastic but obnoxious friend out of the farm and toward where the recruiting was supposedly taking place. Despite his supposed resistance to it, he made no effort to try to stop him. Although he did not want to admit it, the idea of becoming a warrior and enjoying fame, fortune, respect and, above all, having the opportunity to be reunited with Nicole was too alluring.

Roderick was pushed all the way to the outskirts of the village, where a concentration of people had gathered. There he could see a crowd of armed men, some wearing metal armor while others wore little more than leather armor or even nothing more than their dress clothes. Some were on horseback while others were on foot, and their appearances ranged from young men close to his age to those who looked like veterans with several decades of battle experience reflected in their hardened and scarred faces.

"Hey, mister, here's the friend I told you about!" announced Andrew as he dragged Roderick over to a particular tent.

Roderick was dragged into a huge tent, where he could assume that the leader of the group, or at least someone of importance, was to be found. The two young men entered, finding to their surprise that there was only one man inside. He was a relatively young man, perhaps only a few years older than them, standing in front of a table on which was a map of the region. He wore at his waist a pair of twin daggers like the ones Andrew was now carrying, and looking at his toned and strong body, it was obvious that this was someone with more combat experience than country boys like them were even capable of imagining.

The man looked up as soon as he heard them enter, and for a brief moment a cold and merciless gaze was directed towards them. It was the stare of someone accustomed to reaping lives, who lived by and for violence. Soon that facet disappeared, being replaced by a cheerful and friendly expression.

"Well, what do we have here?" he said in a jocular tone as he walked away from the table and approached them.

"My friend is interested in joining!" said Andrew enthusiastically.

"Is that so?" he asked as he turned his gaze to Roderick. "Tell me, boy, do you know how to fight?"

Roderick did not usually get nervous, he had even had previous combat experience repelling wolves and other predators that had tried to attack livestock; on one occasion he even fought a goblin that he caught trying to steal crops, which culminated with him decapitating the little varmint with his hoe. However, coming face to face with that man turned him into a nervous wreck, to the point of not being able to articulate words.

"I-I killed a-a cockroach y-yesterday," he muttered.

There was a brief silence once he said that. The man looked at him in bewilderment at that response, while Andrew put his hand to his face in both disappointment and embarrassment at the shameful behavior.

Roderick had already accepted his failure and was about to turn and walk away, but the man's loud laughter prevented his escape.

"Ha! Sense of humor, I like that," he said as he reached out a hand to shake. "Name's Hicks, scout unit leader of the Black Dogs. Let's see what you're made of, shall we?"

The tavern was full of life. People were coming in and out, drinks and food were being served in droves, and music and laughter flooded the place. One could never imagine that at that moment a centuries-old war was being waged, that it only required a simple victory of the enemy to see that building destroyed, the men murdered and the women raped and enslaved by the conquerors. Possibly people drank their fill to make that constant anguish go away; everyone knew the horrors of the North and the implications of defeat, and being in a constant stalemate, without any glimmer of hope of a near victory, only forced the average person to go to extreme lengths to occupy their mind.

Most took refuge in the common vices: drink, sex, food, the simple essentials that momentarily freed the mind from the pain of everyday life and returned them to a euphoric, carefree state, where the only concern was pleasure and how to get more of it. However, only those limited by their social and economic class were content with the simplest means, such as beer, a cheap prostitute, and so on. Those with power were capable of much more, of obtaining pleasure in ways that the average citizen would not even dare to consider, either for morality or for fear of divine punishment. He knew it well, he knew better than anyone that while those simpletons were having fun drinking cheap beer and groping women of the night whose fare was nothing more than mere pocket change, there were powerful people enjoying unthinkable pleasures.

Despite all he had achieved in his life, he was still a mere commoner, little more than scum compared to those who looked down on him from their palaces. But he longed for more, more than the natural order of things had in store for him.

"Hey, eyes here, big guy!" a female voice exclaimed amidst laughter. "You've got a beautiful woman bringing you beer and you dare to get distracted? I think someone hit you really hard on the head with a mallet or something!"

He looked up, interrupted in his thoughts. He could see a woman with shaggy pink hair, carrying two huge mugs of beer which she proceeded to place on the table where he was sitting, soon taking a seat next to him, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"What's the matter, some rich city girl got you so worked up that you can't pay attention to a simple country bumpkin like me?" she joked as she picked up her own mug of beer and took a prolonged swig.

"Hey, that's not a bad idea, maybe the pretty, rich city girl wouldn't have lice like a certain someone," he replied in a playful tone.

Hearing this she almost spat out her beer, but instead choked a little and coughed before she could speak again.

"H-hey, that's not fair! That only happened once years ago, and that was because I slept in the stables," she quickly excused herself.

This caused the older man to burst out laughing, which was soon joined by the pink-haired woman who, past the initial embarrassment, found herself in a good mood again.

"I'm surprised you decided to come to a place like this. Doesn't the great 'Mercenary Queen Maia' have a better place to get drunk than with the riff-raff?"

"Fuck off," Maia replied tersely and jocularly. "And besides, I don't like to drink among the rich anymore. A few months ago I had to serve as bodyguard to that brat from the Pantielle family, and it was torture. He kept telling me how pretty I was, how exotic I was, and kept insisting that I drink every chance he got to see if I would get drunk enough for him to get into my pants. If it weren't for the fact that I would have been imprisoned, I would have broken his pig nose at the first opportunity."

As if to drown that bad memory with alcohol, Maia took another long swig from her mug, drinking until the contents were empty.

"But hey, enough about that human pig, the reason I came here was to talk to you, Vult."

She looked up to meet the eyes of the King Mercenary.

"After a final meeting, the Alliance finally decided to use the Black Dogs for the final attack on the Legion, so I've come on their behalf to discuss terms," she explained as she raised the empty jug in the air to get the attention of one of the workers and have it refilled. "Well, that and being able to drink till we drop. But don't mention that last one to them, okay?"

"As long as you invite the next rounds, my lips are sealed," he said as he winked.

For the next few hours, the old comrades-in-arms laughed and drank, taking brief seconds to act with professional maturity in relation to the contract, only to act nonchalantly again and drink hazardous amounts of alcohol.

It being well into the wee hours of the morning, when most of the patrons had already left, the two lingered, the countless empty jugs on the table being proof of their almost inhuman ability to drink. Maia seemed slightly affected by the inhuman amount of beer she had consumed, with a slightly flushed face and a goofy smile on her lips. Vult, for his part, remained relatively normal, barely visible any possible effect the alcohol might have had on him.

Ya know what I despise most about those noble bitches?" growled Maia as she raised her half-full tankard from side to side. "The way they think they're such a big deal for having expensive clothes and jewelry. Someone should rip those dresses off them and show them what they're really worth!"

"That's right, someone should," Vult mused with a faint smile, one that seemed to hide more than simple amusement at the comment. "And well, does this amount seem adequate to you?"

That said, he passed a document to the mercenary, which contained an exorbitant amount of funds needed to make the job official. Maia, already blurry-eyed from the alcohol flooding her body, just gave it a brief glance and then nodded; she would rather sign anything than have to read in that state.

"Sounds perfect!" she declared to then proceed to sign the document in a poorly maneuvered manner, her signature looking more like a scrawl than anything else, but being identifiable enough to be official.

When she finished signing, Maia took one last gulp from her mug until it was completely empty. As she did so, she lost her balance and fell crashing to the floor. She uttered no complaints of pain or surprise, as she fell asleep as soon as she hit the floor, the alcohol finally overpowering her. Vult watched her from his seat, not even bothering to get up to help her. He simply saw her there, with that cold, indifferent look. She looked so helpless, so exposed, that it would simply be too easy to do whatever he wanted to her. After all, despite her supposed might as a Princess Knight, she was still little more than a woman, a female, someone who would soon have only one use in the new world he longed to create..

"For the love of the Goddess, boss!" a female voice exclaimed.

Vult looked towards where the voice came from, his indifferent gaze turning friendly on the spot, his true self quickly concealed by that mask he had perfected over the years.

"I've been looking for you everywhere!" said a woman in leather armor who quickly came to the mercenary's rescue.

The woman bent down to begin the arduous task of lifting the fainted mercenary from the ground. As she did so, Vult could see that she had a good body that was barely concealed by the leather armor she wore. With wide hips and a strong build, she would no doubt be suitable for certain types of men he knew, including certain monsters who would kill for the chance to use her as a breeding stock.

"I hope she didn't disturb you, sir," the subordinate said as she carried the still unconscious Maia.

Vult simply smiled. "Not at all."

Keane did his best to concentrate on his book despite the noise around him. It was a grimoire of spells he had obtained through merchants whose methods were far from legal. From necromancy to supposed ways of contacting dark entities, that grimoire contained all sorts of blasphemies against Laurentia's teachings, something that, for someone like him, was more than fascinating.

He tried his best to concentrate on that forbidden and profane reading, but the disruptive noise of the parade in which he had been forced to participate made it difficult for him. From all sides came shouts and praises from the citizens, which were answered by shouts and excited rejoicing from the mercenaries, the new recruits being the loudest and most vociferous, possibly intoxicated by the glory. Hicks had conducted a recruitment campaign over the past few weeks, focusing on attracting simple country boys stupid enough not to realize that they would serve as mere cannon fodder during the operation in the North, thus ensuring that the veteran and experienced troops would be rested and intact when the key moment of battle arrived.

"Isn't this amazing, Mister Keane?" a new recruit asked as he put an arm around the wizard in a cheerful manner. "They treat us like we're knights or something!"

The wizard's body shuddered as soon as he felt that unwanted embrace.

"Don't. Touch. Me," Keane muttered as he turned a piercing gaze on the subordinate, his expression denoting genuine contempt and distaste for his presence.

A combination of surprise and terror flashed across the face of the young recruit, who quickly turned away from the wizard, losing himself in the crowd. Keane simply pushed up his glasses, making sure to remember his face to retaliate later.

"Hey, four-eyes, over here!"

Keane turned toward the source of that shouting voice and found Hicks pushing his way through the crowd. The scout approached him, grabbed him roughly by the wrist and dragged him to where steps led up to a wooden platform erected in the middle of Ken's main square. The wizard made no effort to hide his displeasure at being touched and dragged in such a rude manner, but since this was Hicks, there wasn't much he could do about it. However, he was already mentally planning a way to summon the insects to his bed as soon as he let his guard down.

"The ceremony is about to start, you don't want to miss it and disappoint the ladies," Hicks said with a playful smile.

Keane just sighed. He couldn't care less about having to deal with the Seven Shields, he simply wanted to continue reading about the possible ways to enslave the body and soul of the deceased.

"I've brought the four-eyes in, boss!" announced Hicks as he dragged Keane toward the center of the platform.

Vult was standing in the middle of the platform, with his arms crossed and his head raised upwards, looking towards the balcony of the castle from where several women were watching them. They were the representatives of the Seven Shields Alliance, the so-called Princess Knights: Alicia Arcturus, the leader of the Knights of Iris. Prim Fiorire, the beloved princess of Ur. Claudia Levantine, leader of the Dawn Templars. Kaguya, the High Priestess of the Odd-faced God. Maia, the Mercenary Queen and former comrade, and finally Luu Luu, the representative and feared warrior of the Halflings. All of them proudly carried the traditional tower shields on which were engraved the symbols of each Fortress, a tradition dating back to the founding of the Fortress Cities by the legendary Seven Warrior Kings. However, one person in particular was conspicuous by her absence.

"Where's Celestine?" asked Keane quietly.

"Supposedly she's in a special deep meditation and prayer session or something like that," Hicks replied in a whisper. "It's a shame, I was already looking forward to seeing that damn nice pair of ti—"

"You two, shut the fuck up," Vult interrupted without even turning to look at them. "She's already going to talk."

Claudia stepped forward and raised her sword, a Levantine family heirloom going back generations. She pointed the weapon skyward, in a northerly direction.

"For centuries, the Dark Queen has brought destruction, death and tragedy to our lands. Guided by nothing more than an innate desire to spread her evil influence, she has destroyed countless lives and stained these sacred lands with the blood of innocents," Claudia said aloud, beginning her speech. "Despite the bravery of our ancestors, we have been unable to deal a definitive blow to her Legion, for like vermin they took refuge where we could not pursue them. I refer, of course, to the blasphemous Black Citadel, where the Dark Queen has taken it upon herself to poison the land around it and empower her monstrous subjects."

Several citizens and even mercenaries showed somber and gloomy expressions upon hearing that part of the speech. Many had suffered from the Legion's raids, to the point that it was not uncommon to find a person who had lost a loved one at the hands of the monsters, either by being killed in the case of men, or by being raped and kidnapped in the case of women. Not for nothing were many of the ranks of the Black Dogs made up of orphans, people whom the centuries-old war had taken everything from them and forced them to fight to eat.

"We have been forced to simply resist, to always be on the defensive, unable to do anything but wait for attacks from the North and repel them. Peace has been stolen from us since the moment of our birth by the Dark Queen, forced to live under her constant threat, but that ends as of today!" Claudia declared in a powerful voice. "Thanks to the vision of the Goddess Reborn, we have discovered that the Dark Queen's power has been fading. The accursed land of Garan, once poisonous and repellent to all life save that of the Legion's abominations, has regained some of its original vitality now that the tyrant has lost power, so at last our troops can go without fear of dying from the miasma. However, this battle will not be fought by the knights of the Alliance, but by the people, the common folk. The children of Eostia, who have had to resist for so long, who have lost so much and sacrificed so greatly, will at last be able to take righteous revenge on the Witch Queen of Garan; without distinction of social class or otherwise, the final battle will be fought by common men! A proof that at last the free men and women of Eostia will no longer have anything to fear!"

The crowd roared with excitement and enthusiasm at this, and several of the new recruits raised their fists and weapons in the air as they shouted in exultation. The supposed glory of being able to engage in what was once a battle fought only by knights and nobles distracted them from the fact that the use of mercenaries was nothing more than a political excuse. It was obvious that the various noble houses refused to allow the Alliance to receive all the glory for the battle, seeking to maintain the status quo that had been maintained for generations between royalty, nobility, church and merchant guilds. Allowing the Shields to end the war would give them immense weight in the balance, giving them political power and enough popular support not to be challenged by the other factions. Moreover, in the event of failure, it was easier to blame the mercenaries and come out of the disaster clean.

Despite all the supposed talk of unity against the enemy, they still saw them as little more than scum to be sacrificed for their own benefit. Keane, as well as Vult, knew this very well.

"Today there are no differences that separate us, today we are one people, today we are all sons and daughters of Laurentia!". proclaimed Claudia as she brandished both sword and shield high in the direction of the audience. "And so I place it in your hands, Black Dogs, to bear upon your shoulders the courage, bravery, and desire for sacred retribution of every man, woman, and child. Will you accept this responsibility and march forth to begin a new chapter in the history of this continent?"

That question, although it seemed addressed to the entire group of mercenaries, was obviously directed at Vult, who from the beginning of the speech maintained a stoic silence. Keane turned his gaze to his boss, watching as he remained with his arms folded, saying nothing for a few seconds of silence that disconcerted those present. Finally he moved, raising his fist high in the air in acceptance, prompting an eruption of applause and praise from citizens and mercenaries alike.

"Then go with the blessing of the Goddess, and the next time we meet face to face, let it be in the splendor of victory," Claudia declared as she lowered sword and shield, now brandishing a raised fist before them. "For the Goddess Reborn, for Celestine!"

The whole square was enveloped in deafening shouts, praises and even choruses repeating the last phrase said by the knight. Flowers and small colored paper pieces were thrown from nearby balconies, creating a beautiful panorama. However, what caught Keane's attention the most was the expression on his boss's face, for although he seemed to be smiling, a reaction that was to be expected, his eyes told another story. Although he tried to hide it, Vult's gaze was slightly diverted towards the huge cathedral near the palace, and in that gaze he could see something that, despite the years he had known him and the experiences they had shared, filled the wizard with an almost instinctive dread.

In those eyes was a cold, ruthless, almost emotionless contempt. It was the look of a man who had long since died, but who persisted. The gaze of someone who feared nothing in life and was therefore capable of anything.

That was the stare of something inhuman that wore the skin of a man.

Hicks yawned so loudly that it even overpowered the neighing of the horse he was riding. The last few nights had been complete hell, as for some reason a horde of insects invaded his sleeping bag in the middle of his sleep. No matter where he decided to move, the demonic grouping of insects seemed to find him, and no matter how many he squashed, more would appear to make it impossible for him to sleep. Normally he would suspect that sick bastard Shamuhaza because of his affinity for insects, but seeing that he had stayed in the main camp to continue his experiments, he could only believe that it was just a small sample of the kind of wickedness that awaited him in that demonic land.

From the moment they left the safety of the Alliance lands behind and entered Garan they had experienced nothing but strange occurrences: a sky so dark they could barely distinguish days from nights, heavy air that made it difficult to breathe normally, lakes and rivers that seemed to contain some kind of black, viscous, bubbling liquid that smelled like the foulest of poisons; a constant feeling of pressure was hounding them wherever they went, and the only non-hostile life forms they encountered were curious animals that, although they posed no threat to them, seemed straight out of the sick fantasies of a lunatic. Worst of all, according to what Keane had told him, the land of Garan was even worse before; he couldn't help but dread to think that this hellish wasteland was actually favorable to what it had been before.

Garan was mostly a barren wasteland devoid of life, but that didn't mean the roads were clear. There were many structures that seemed almost unnatural, with mountains of bizarre shapes, treacherous paths, crevasses and crags that made transportation a nightmare. To make matters worse, visibility was almost impossible due to the dark sky and almost constant fog, so every step had to be taken with extreme caution for the sake of the entire expedition, making it the perfect job for the scouting unit.

"Hey, chief!"

The scout leader looked to where he had heard the source of the voice and found a young brown-haired man with brown hair walking briskly to keep up with the horse. He was one of the newest members of the scouts, originally a simple farmer who, thanks to his size and speed of his legs, had earned a place in the unit. The boy had left behind his old farmer's clothes, now wearing leather armor with the insignia of the Black Dogs on the shoulder pad; though he now wore the equipment of a soldier, his size and youthful face made him easily still look like a brat who had somehow found his way into a military campaign.

"What's the matter, Andrew, need a bathroom stop?" asked Hicks mockingly.

"If I have to be around those guys any longer, I think I'm going to need it," said the new recruit as he pointed back.

He pointed to the rear of the formation, where a group of ogres escorted them. Given the policy of the Black Dogs, both humans and Aberrants could join the ranks as long as they complied with the rules. In the case of the latter, despite being efficient and well integrated into the group, they always generated a reaction of shock to new recruits, most of whom had a negative and hostile impression due to previous experiences. Hicks could not blame them, for even he, who had been in the group since its inception and had lived with all manner of monsters since childhood, still failed to get completely used to turning his back on an orc or werewolf with confidence that they would not try to eat him.

"Just respect them and they will respect you."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Will they?"

"Well, giving them a juicy baby to eat works too," he said as he shrugged.

Andrew's mouth dropped open at that statement, showing by his expression that he was having a mental struggle to know how to respond to that in case it was a joke or not. Hicks just laughed out loud at the rookie's reaction.

"Relax, I'm just fucking with you," he clarified with a chuckle.

The scouting party continued on their way until they came to what appeared to be a mountainous wall of almost unnatural and amorphous shape, with sharp black stones seeming to rise from all over the ground. Curious insects and vermin flitted in the air and moved about the ground, there being a curious concentration of them up ahead, as if there was something attracting them. Among the huge amorphous structure that stretched out in front of them, they could see what appeared to be a narrow rocky path that, although it appeared treacherous, seemed to be the only free way to cross the place instead of going around it.

"Look, rookie, make yourself useful and do a quick reconnaissance of the area ahead of you. I've got a feeling," he said as he brought his horse to a brief halt.

The new recruit nodded as he let out a nervous laugh before setting off, walking quickly but carefully along the treacherous rocky and bumpy road ahead. The unit waited patiently for the new recruit to return from the reconnaissance, although it didn't take them long to realize that he was taking longer than expected. Soon they began to mutter among themselves the possibility that the rookie had been attacked and eaten by some creature on the road, even considering the option of sending someone more experienced to continue the reconnaissance, and if possible, find the young man's corpse. However, before they made their final decision, they could hear a loud, agitated voice shouting from afar.

"I found it! I found it!"

The group caught a glimpse of Andrew, who came running out of the fog almost out of breath from both exhaustion and excitement.

"I… I found it!"

"Calm down a little, boy. What did you find?" asked Hicks as he got off his horse.

"T-the Black Citadel!" Andrew exclaimed. "It's just ahead!"

This surprised the group, so much so that even the ogres looked at each other in astonishment.

"Is that so?" asked Hicks as he approached Andrew. "Then we'd better check it out to be sure. You guys stay here standing guard, I'm going to see if Mr. Greenhorn here hasn't started to hallucinate."

Given the order, the scout leader moved forward, entering the treacherous rocky path in the company of the enthusiastic rookie, who kept on talking as he navigated the precarious route.

"Hey, do I get a bonus for finding the target? Do you think I'll earn a kiss from any of the princesses as a reward?" asked Andrew with noticeable excitement in his voice.

"If we make it back alive, you'll have a lot more than that," he replied with a slight smile.

The two traveled along that steep, rocky and dangerous path until they finally came to an abrupt halt at what appeared to be a cliff. From there they could see that below, in the distance, a gigantic gleaming building in the middle of the desolate wasteland was visible through the fog. It was an entire citadel of magnificent presence, so much so that it even rivaled Ken. What was most striking, however, was the huge dark tower that rose with an imposing, almost divine grandeur; the ebony-colored tower generated such a presence that even Hicks stood dumbfounded for a few seconds before snapping out of it. That was the Black Citadel of legends, the one where the Dark Queen had spent centuries planning her attacks against the south, and the general base of the Legion.

Hicks hastily pulled out parchment and quill, settling himself on the floor to begin sketching what he was seeing. They would need as much information as possible when they laid siege, so he had to illustrate even the smallest detail that might give them an advantage.

"Hey, boss," Andrew said as he leaned forward a bit more, raising his hand to point at something. "Do you see that?"

"See what?" replied Hicks, still busy with his sketching.

"That lake by the citadel, it's ... frozen."

"What's weird about that? We've seen stranger things in the last few days in this hellhole."

"No, it's not just that," Andrew insisted. "The lake was completely normal, or the equivalent of normal for this place, a few minutes ago. It was the first thing I saw when I arrived, then I went looking for you and when I came back it was already frozen. Besides, I think there's something trapped in there."

That caught Hicks' interest, who looked away from the parchment to the spot his subordinate was pointing to. The fog made it difficult to discern what he was seeing, but it didn't take him long to find the frozen lake. What really surprised him, however, was seeing what looked like Aberrants frozen in the lake. Some were completely encased in ice, turned into grotesque ice statues, while others had been severed and turned into chunks of flesh and ice; a few Aberrants appeared to be alive, among them a gargoyle that was desperately trying to escape from the lake, but whose frozen wings stuck to the icy water prevented him from doing so.

There was no doubt, this was the result of a recent battle. However, it was impossible for anyone from the Black Dogs to be responsible, as the only ones remotely close to the Black Citadel were the scouts. Something else had arrived at the Citadel before them, something capable of dispatching an entire group of Aberrants and freezing a lake.

Hicks returned to his sketch, hurrying even faster with it. They had to get back to Vult as soon as possible and report what they found. He was beginning to get a bad feeling.

That had been too easy. Suspiciously easy even. According to the plan, the siege of the Black Citadel would last at least three days if all went well, or a week if something unforeseen happened, but they managed to break through the defenses and enter in just a few measly hours. The few Aberrants who showed up to defend the entrance and stop them not only suffered from their small numbers, but several of them also seemed distracted, as if the battle to defend the main entrance was not foremost in their minds.

The men were celebrating the easy victory and morale was sky high, but he couldn't help but feel uneasy, as if something wasn't right. He couldn't shake the feeling that things should have happened differently, that something was wrong.

"Vult, is everything all right?" asked Keane, who was walking beside him.

He did not answer immediately. He merely remained silent for a few seconds, deep in thought, before answering.

"Still no recruits back yet?" he asked, completely ignoring the wizard's question.

Keane merely pushed up his glasses, not bothering to hide his offense at having his question ignored.

"One group led by Hicks went to investigate a supposed lake, and the other group is exploring the palace to find the throne room," he explained grumpily. "Though I really think the second group will have more trouble. This place is... peculiar, so to speak."

The latter was an understatement of titanic proportions. The interior of the palace was a direct offense to logic, with corridors and bridges that seemed to defy gravity, structures and statues in the least expected places, chandeliers that seemed to float in the air, and countless rooms that seemed designed to house people, with some interconnected with each other or with other types of places in what looked like a sort of labyrinth connected by doors. Staircases rose from the floor in different parts and ascended to higher floors, with some even touching the ceiling in dead ends, while others seemed to repeat in some cyclical fashion with the end connecting to the beginning.

Exploring that incredibly complex and insane place was almost mentally damaging. He would rather have to personally fight a whole horde of Aberrants than continue exploring that damned place.

CRASH

The crashing sound of a wooden door being smashed down resounded, causing him and the group accompanying him to become alert. Accompanied by that abrupt crash, what sounded like some kind of fight was heard, echoing the now familiar sound of sharp blades clashing against each other.

"Wait, wait!" a panicked male voice exclaimed.

They all looked up at one of the bridges suspended above them, where they could see someone being pushed off the bridge, taking with them someone unfortunate enough to be in their path. The two people fell violently before the group, who quickly drew their weapons in anticipation.

"Hey, is that...?" one of the mercenaries muttered.

The person who had had the misfortune of being swept away in the fall was none other than Roderick, one of the new recruits, who now lay in pain under someone who aroused the mercenaries' interest. She was a caramel-skinned woman, with long blonde hair pulled back in a large ponytail. The most striking thing about her was undoubtedly her striking long pointed ears, which gave away her identity as a Dark Elf.

"Damn... monster..." muttered the Dark Elf in pain as she tried to get up.

She seemed slightly dazed from the fall and had trouble noticing her surroundings. However, when she became aware of the humans in front of her, she quickly moved into a fighting stance, brandishing her daggers at them. Her red eyes were filled with the purest contempt and, at the same time, the most genuine panic.

Despite having a Dark Elf pointing her weapons at them, the mercenaries' attention was not directed at her, but at the strange figure that now stood at the edge of the bridge, looking down on them from above. It was an abomination unlike any they had seen before, with ash-gray skin and glowing red eyes similar to those of a mythical demon. In both hands it carried an icy blue claymore from which steam seemed to emanate, being a weapon like no other they had ever seen in their lives.

No one said anything; a deep, almost spectral silence filled the place. The Dark Elf oscillated between watching them and the figure on the bridge, attentive to any movement of either; the mercenaries kept their weapons drawn, feeling a pressure in the air such as they had never before experienced in their years of battle. Vult, however, remained calm, indifferent even, merely observing the strange abomination with both mild curiosity and simple impassivity.

Soon a series of whispers broke the silence. It was Keane, who with grimoire in hand had begun to conjure a spell.

"Firebolt!" announced the wizard as he raised a hand upward, in which a concentration of flames took shape in his palm before shooting out.

The fire projectile flew at an impressive speed and soon reached its target, which was engulfed in a fierce blaze. A pleased and smug smile tugged at the wizard's lips as he saw that yet another had succumbed to the might of his magical prowess; however that smile slowly faded as he saw the figure engulfed in flames begin to walk. Soon a puzzled expression appeared on his face as he saw that the figure was not only walking unaffected by the flames, but was walking beyond the bridge. Unnaturally, the figure descended by walking through the air, as if stepping on invisible stepping stones. As it did so, the power of the flames diminished until they were finally extinguished, revealing the gray-skinned creature that had suffered no apparent damage.

All attention was focused on the creature that now lay in front of them, staring at them. Vult could tell that everyone else present was visibly nervous, though as he looked around he noticed that Roderick and the Dark Elf had disappeared, presumably taking advantage of the chaos of the moment to flee unseen.

"Well, good show, scrawny thing," Vult began to say as he began to raise his massive greatsword, brandishing it with both his hands towards the enemy. "But we don't have time to chat, how about you show us the way to the Queen Bitch? If not, I may have to force the information out of you."

That creature did not seem to understand what he was saying, but it did understand his hostile intent. However, far from seeming intimidated or enraged, it seemed rather disappointed.

The gray-skinned abomination sighed as it wielded its weapon. "S'wit."