It was the 17th of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 34, the beginning of Summer.

Dates were a funny thing, Ashton reflected. They could be altered, changed, so long as everyone agreed to it. If everyone on Earth had suddenly agreed that it was the 1700s again, who would be there to argue? It was an entirely human concept; the bears didn't care what day Columbus sailed to America, a reindeer didn't care about the signing of the Declaration of Independence, dates were meaningless to them. All that mattered were the seasons. The oldest way to tell time was through them, it had literally been built into human DNA.

Ashton had once heard a phrase, he didn't remember where, about a group of people who called war 'Season Unending'. He couldn't help but agree.

The largest force the Adrestian Empire could muster were heading to the same mountain path that Ashton, Roland, and Cethleann had used to escape from the city of Fhirdiad almost a year and a half ago. To Ashton, it felt like a lifetime ago. His days had been consumed by religious teachings and study, with the occasional training session to ensure he didn't waste away in some corner somewhere.

He still hadn't made a breakthrough with Faith magic, but he felt his was close.

Of course, even the chance of a breakthrough meant he was classified as a 'healer' and sent to the very back of the army, right alongside Griselda and the rest from the priory. While living at the priory wasn't exactly a glamorous existence, it was better than being at the ass end of the army, having to deal with all the issues and troubles that came with being with such a large force.

Even being a healer wasn't enough, though. Nemesis' armies went out of their way to target healers and clerics, slaughtering them or dragging them off to Fhirdiad. What happened to them there, Ashton didn't know, and didn't want to know. The message was pretty clear, though: the Free Kingdom would not tolerate anything having to do with Seiros or the Goddess.

"Well, would you look at that? He's sitting there brooding again," a voice said in front of him. Ashton had a nasty habit of drifting off when he had no one to talk to. He needed to fix that before it became a real problem. Luckily, he didn't think he'd have anything to worry about with the person in front of him.

"Nice to see you again too, Ella," Ashton replied, looking up to see the Guard Captain staring down at him, both hands on her hips and toothy grin on her face. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Eh, not really. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You told me about what happened the last time you were with an army. Thought this might bring up bad memories," she said, looking off to the side. Just beyond them, he could see the army setting up for the night; they were setting up tents, and he could see pillars of smoke gently flying into the clouds. It was a pleasant smell, if nothing else.

Of course, Ashton was far away from all that. He was sitting on a hastily crafted bench at the edge of the army, alongside his fellow priests as they traveled through the grasslands that led up to the feet of the Oghma Mountains. The fact Ella saw fit to see how he was doing definitely made him feel a little better, at least.

"I'm conscripted again, but I won't be doing much fighting if the Goddess is kind, so I think it's an improvement," Ashton said, shrugging as he flipped the book he had in his hands over. "Failing that, I guess I could always conk them over the head with this holy text."

Ella laughed, slapping her knee. "Never change, you crazy dastard. Never change!"

"Don't laugh. These things can make pretty effective weapons!" Ashton said, standing up and pacing. "Think about it, Ella. Thousands of priests, all armed with a Book of Seiros. We could send the Free Kingdom armies packing, and hell, maybe we could even convert a few of them."

"Now you're just acting stupid for the sake of it."

"This is how I always act," Ashton harrumphed, turning around and trying his best not to pout too much, lest he look like a spoiled girl.

"And now you're just acting like a damn fool," Ella said with a small chuckle before crossing her arms. "But I'm being serious, Ashton. How are you doing?"

"Did Roland put you up to this?" Ashton asked, turning back around. He couldn't help but notice the way the setting sun glinted off of Ella's black armor. "I swear, that man has a crush on me. Or something, I don't know."

"We're your friends. Or at least, I consider you one. You're funny, at least," Ella admitted, looking as if she was about to lean against something but realized there was nothing to lean against before she fell over.

"Ignore that."

"No."

"See? Funny dastard."

Ashton shrugged. "I don't know, Ella. I really don't know. I know you guys are my friends, but something feels wrong. Something feels off. Something bad's gonna happen. I don't know when, I don't know how, but I know if it does, I'll never see you guys again. And you guys are really the only friends I've made around here. If one of you died, I'd…"

"Good thing we're tougher than that," Ella said, pointing a thumb into her breastplate. "I mean, look at me. Do you really think anything could take me down?"

"You didn't see one of those Elites," Ashton said, feeling himself shiver. "He tore people apart with a casual swing of that sword he has. They are nightmares."

"And you think I'm not?" Ella said, her smirk never leaving her face.

"I haven't seen you fight," Ashton said, shrugging. "So I guess I can't say. I don't know what it is about them that makes my skin crawl; you know, besides the fact that the one I saw tore men clean in half with a single swipe of that weapon of his."

Ella shook her head. "It's those damned abominations, I'm telling you. There're few ways to get past one, if there are any at all. But I'm not going to let that stop me. I have a family name to uphold, you know? And just because my mother can be a conniving little harpy doesn't mean I have to be one, too."

"Ha! I wouldn't know about that," Ashton laughed, clapping his hands once.

"Yeah, you'd do well to stay away from Adrestian politics," Ella snorted, looking off into the army before them again. "I took a job as a guard captain because I was sick and tired of it. Only a single generation into this glorious empire of ours and it's already a nightmare to navigate. Seems like the only way to get things done is to petition the Saints directly, and good luck reaching them."

"I seemed to reach them just fine."

"You also came here from what might be another world, and helped save one of them. The former would get you noticed, at least, but the latter is the reason they even deigned to give you an audience." Ella looked up to the sky, shaking her head. "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it."

"You and me both," Ashton mumbled, tapping his foot. "Sometimes it feels like I'm getting nowhere with my studies. It's just the same passages, over and over again. Sometimes I can feel a flicker of something inside me, but it doesn't last long. Maybe I just need one more push."

"You'll probably get a chance here soon," Ella suggested, turning around. "Anyway, I just wanted to see how you were doing. You know Roland and I will listen to you if you have any questions. Hell, with Saint Seiros herself with us, we might actually stand a chance in this battle."

Ashton perked up. "Seiros is with us?"

"Ah, yeah. You didn't know?" Ella stopped. "She's the one leading us. Her and Saint Macuil, I think. Makes sense, he's her tactician."

Ashton looked down.

"Is something wrong?" Ella asked.

Ashton shook his head. "No. Just… surprised. You go ahead and do whatever duties they gave you, Ella. I'll be back here, trying not to be too useless."

Ella barked a laugh. "You take care of yourself, Ashton. Remember what I said!"

Shaking his head again, Ashton massaged his temples. It was any wonder Seiros herself would be leading the army. It was stupid to assume otherwise. It wouldn't surprise him if Emperor Wilhelm himself was there, too. The Adrestian Empire really wasn't playing around anymore.

Idly, before he turned in for the night, Ashton wondered if he would be paid a visit by his cloaked friend again.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the Oghma Mountains rose in the distance like the teeth of a giant monster, that Ashton saw her again. She was the one to approach him on his way to the communal tent, practically ambushing him as he marched away from everyone else.

"Are you available?" she asked, her voice small and quick, sounding wrong coming from such a tall woman.

"In what sense?" Ashton asked, brow raised. "Are you coming onto me-?"

"To talk," she clarified, and Ashton could see the subtle twitch of her brow at his jape. "I have time, and you do as well. You are free to refuse, of course, but I-!"

Ashton waved a hand, looking around. There was nobody nearby; he had been studying the scriptures all by his lonesome, where people couldn't bother him. It was a far cry from his days as a high school football player, but he still instinctually knew that he didn't belong, and his only friends were in high places. It wouldn't be such a big issue if that didn't mean he'd barely get to see him.

A part of him missed Cethleann too.

"Just making a joke, my lady," Ashton said, chuckling as he clutched his book closer to him. "There's a log back there we can sit on, if you prefer it."

The woman nodded silently and followed Ashton back to where had been just moments before. At least it was a pretty night, Ashton reflected, and he didn't feel all that tired. She couldn't have picked a better time, honestly. It wasn't like anyone was going to miss him back at camp.

"I'm not going to ask why you're here," Ashton said, leaning forward and clasping his hands together as the woman sat stock still next to him. "Or who you are, still. I don't particularly mind. What did you want to talk about, then?"

"The coming battle," she replied, looking away. If Ashton didn't know any better, she seemed scared. "I am… I regret to say that I feel nervous."

"I think everybody feels that way," Ashton said, closing his eyes. "The last time I was on the brink of a battle like this was over a year ago, now. It's a nervousness in your gut that makes it hard to sleep, right?"

"Something like that," the woman whispered quietly.

"I don't think you have anything to fear," Ashton said.

"How?"

"Well," Ashton continued, looking to her. "They say we have Saint Seiros herself on our side. And her tactician, Macuil. Every battle before this has been lost, ever since the beginning. But with them, we might stand a chance."

"But what if Saint Seiros fails?" she asked, playing with her hands. "She is only one woman, against what feels like an army of hundreds of thousands. She has prepared Adrestia for this, yes, but what if it's not enough?"

"Then I'd say she needs more faith in herself. I'll just ignore how blasphemous you're being right now," Ashton said, looking over to the cloaked woman with a wry grin. "Besides, she's not alone."

"She's not?" the woman asked, turning to Ashton for the first time with her mint-green eyes narrowing at him. "She has the other Saints, yes, but they are…"

"I wasn't talking about the other Saints, though they are a part of it, yes," Ashton replied.

"Then what, pray tell, were you talking about?" she pressed, her voice sharp. One wrong move, Ashton thought, and he'd probably never talk to her again.

"You answered it yourself," Ashton said, turning to look her in the eye. "She has the Adrestian Empire on her side. A country she has guarded and nurtured for almost the past century. Mind you, I have no idea how she was able to do that and still look as good as she does, but that's not the point. I've spoken to these people, you know? Learned a lot about the religion that's sprouted around her. They truly believe in her. And they would die for her, if necessary, all to see the glorious vision she spoke of come true: the return of the Goddess."

There was a sharp intake of breath as the woman looked down at the grassy ground. She didn't seem as if she was going to stand up and run off at the earliest opportunity, at least.

"Regretfully, I…" Ashton saw her throat bob. "Sometimes I do not feel that is true."

"Are you doubting the good word of Seiros?" Ashton asked, brow raised as he leaned forward and gave her a sidelong glance. "I mean, I don't claim to know what goes on in her mind, but the book is pretty straightforward and confident. At least, that's what I got from it."

"It is easy to fake such things, my… friend," the woman said, hesitating before saying 'friend', but Ashton let it slide. He was making progress. "Easy to give an air of confidence, to put on a mask of infallibility. But when you are asked to deliver on your promises, demanded to act against what you have been preparing for so long, it can seem… hopeless. As if you will never truly be what you want to be: a leader. Wise counsel to men and women who so desperately need to hear it. My mother was like that."

"I think everyone needs someone like that in their lives, but sometimes you need to become it," Ashton said, crossing his arms.

"Mmm. Perhaps. Vengeance, though… have you ever considered that? That Seiros wants vengeance?"

Ashton blinked. "I mean, it would certainly be a reason, wouldn't it? She seems pretty hellbent on destroying Nemesis and the Free Kingdom, and vice versa. Wouldn't surprise me if there was bad blood there."

"I want vengeance," the woman said, suddenly turning to Ashton with green eyes practically blazing. "I want vengeance for my mother's death. I want the man who took her from me to suffer. To feel the pain of having your life drain away into the ground. I…"

Ashton's frowned. "You didn't tell me she was murdered. I'm sorry."

"I am merely saying, perhaps Saint Seiros fights for that reason as well," the woman hastily added, "it is not a massive stretch, is it?"

"I guess not," Ashton said, fiddling with his robe.

"You do not sound very confident."

"I'm not about to talk down to someone about revenge," Ashton said quickly, "I shouldn't. Revenge is more complicated than some guy from across the globe saying 'it's bad'. People, humans, aren't the only ones who feel it, either. I once read a story about a tiger that stalked a man for miles after he killed his mate."

The woman tilted her head. "Tiger?"

"A big cat, orange with black stripes. A lot like a lion."

She nodded. "I see. You have seen strange animals, Ashton."

"It's not so strange when you grow up thinking it's your favorite animal," Ashton murmured before shaking his head and tapping his fingers against the log beneath him. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, maybe she is doing it for revenge. Maybe Nemesis wronged her, or someone close to her, in some way. It's not my place to judge. Just as it's not my place to look at you weirdly with what you said a minute ago."

"No. You are right to judge me for that," she replied, wiping at her face. "I should not have let my rage get the better of me then. You have no part in it. It is wrong to show it to you."

"Maybe," Ashton said, shrugging. "But it helps letting it out every once and a while, right?"

She continued playing with her hands. "Perhaps. I am beginning to see the wisdom in your words."

"There isn't much to be found, so that's a good thing I hope," Ashton said, chuckling.

"You have spoken more than some people I would consider close friends," the woman stated. "I would not consider that to be little."

Ashton rubbed the back of his neck. "Now you're just trying to make me blush!"

"I- what? How?" the woman asked, leaning to the side to look at him. "I am just telling you what I think."

"By the Goddess, you're serious," Ashton said, blinking, as he tried his best to look away from the woman's face. "Please stop getting so close."

The cloaked woman continued to look at him curiously for a few more moments before realizing what Ashton had said. She gasped and drew back, and Ashton had to admit that a part of him missed her being so close, even if it was for a short time. He blamed his hormones and settled down.

"My apologies," the woman said, bowing her head. "I did not mean to do that. It's just I- I haven't spoken to anyone like this in a long, long time. I… appreciate this."

"Hey, no harm done," Ashton said, waving a hand, assuaging her worries.

"I would beg to differ, but it is unlikely that I would change your mind."

"Well, obviously. I think I have a pretty good read on you as a person at this point, even if I don't know your name," Ashton said, standing up.

The cloaked woman looked up at him curiously, her hands still on her lap.

"You're scared," Ashton continued, looking down at her. "And all things considered, that's understandable. But despite this, I don't think it's going to hold you back. The coming battles will be bloody. A lot of people are going to be killed. But I think, in the end, you have people's best interests at heart. If you could have what you want without hurting a single person, you would do it."

She looked up to him with narrowed eyes. "The last part seems false."

Ashton shrugged. "Now that I think about it, yeah. Forget that last bit. But still. Seiros is the best force of good I've seen on this continent so far. Sure, it's covered in religious dogma, but I mean, if that religion is true…?"

The woman looked down, closing her eyes.

"I have faith in her, at least, even if I'm not entirely sure on the Church itself," Ashton continued. "Nemesis and the Elites are about as close as you can get to being truly evil as people can really get, in my opinion. From what I've heard and seen, at least. She has my vote."

The woman stood up and bowed her head.

"I… thank you for this, Ashton," she whispered, but Ashton could see a small smile on her lips even as she hid her face from view. "This conversation has been elucidating. I, erm, look forward to the next one."

"If I don't die horribly in the next battle, that is," Ashton replied as he laughed a little to himself. "I mean, not that I am going into this thinking that I'll be dying, but I can't just ignore the possibility, you know?"

"I do not think you have anything to worry about," the woman said, standing up tall. She was almost at eye level with Ashton, perhaps just an inch or two shorter. Ashton once again cursed himself for thinking about how pretty she looked.

"You have too much unfinished business here," she continued. "The Goddess and Saint Seiros will protect you during this trying time, just as they will protect all who walk the path."

"I… uh, thanks," Ashton stammered, looking to the side. "I appreciate it."

Stepping away from him, the woman bowed again. "May the blessings of the goddess follow you, always."

It took a moment for Ashton to collect his thoughts and realize what she said, but when he turned to ask her about it, she was gone.

As always, Ashton was towards the back of the formation. The Oghma Mountains rose above him eerily, mist clouding their peaks. On the wind, he could smell rotting flesh; it didn't seem like anybody had cleaned up the bodies from previous battles, and so they were left to rot. He expected that to only get worse with the one that was coming.

The battle would be tomorrow. Luckily, Ashton didn't have trouble sleeping. Not a lot, anyway. Not as often as he did the first time. He was lucky to catch more than a few hours sleep at a time back then, but it seemed as if he had been given more time to grow used to it.

Of course, his foot still tapped against the ground wherever he went nervously. And the tension in the air was thick enough that he felt as if he could swim through it if he tried, but even with the danger he was in, his heart remained calm.

When the time came, he would be forced to put his meager healing skills to use to try and save as many soldiers as he could that came back. If he couldn't save them, then he could make their deaths less painful.

Ashton trudged through the forward camp. It was breaking position, but he needed someone, anyone to talk to, and Ella was unavailable. That left only one more person.

"Halt," an armored man said, holding his hand up as Ashton approached the brightly colored tent. "State your business. Lord Aegir stated that he is not to be troubled before the coming battle."

"Tell him it's Ashton," Ashton replied. "Tell him I just want to talk."

Raising a brow, the soldier went inside the tent, and came back only a few moments later with a perplexed look on his face.

"Who are you, to be so readily let in by a noble?" he asked.

"Ask me later when I have a few drinks in me," Ashton said, walking past the soldier and into the tent.

The tent was only sparsely decorated, which made sense as it was going to be very temporary. A table with a few chairs surrounding it, along with a bed near the corner were all that was within, as well as Roland, peering over several pieces of parchment as he scribbled into them.

"I assume this is important, if you are so desperate to interrupt me during this delicate work?" Roland asked, not even looking up.

"I had to say very little to get in here, Roland. So who's desperate?" Ashton shot back, crossing his arms.

"Ah, you got me," Roland replied with a chuckle, finally putting his feather down and leaning back, and Ashton could hear the chair creaking beneath him. "I welcome the chance to talk. I only wish it was under better circumstances."

"Well, we'll have to wait until after this battle to really get a good one-on-one, I guess. But this is good enough, in my opinion. Enough to get my nerves to calm down."

"What a strange idiom," Roland noted.

Ashton shrugged. "I'm full of those, if you press me."

"I have no desire to," Roland said, standing up. "I have more important things to press, such as troop movements and plotting courses of attack."

Ashton tilted his head as moved forward. "I thought Saint Macuil was doing that?"

"And Saint Macuil is only one man, meanwhile we have an army numbering in the thousands," Roland said, "I may not be as capable of a tactician as he, but he can use all of the help he can get. The Free Kingdom has been pushing hard in this pass, and he does not intend to let them take one step further into Adrestian territory."

"I hope he's good at his job, then," Ashton muttered, thinning his lips.

"He has to be. Being Saint Seiros' tactician is his job. He has studied it for longer than many of us have been alive," Roland explained, standing in front of Ashton.

"No matter how much you study something, no matter how much you dedicate your life to it, you can always make mistakes," Ashton said, looking Roland in the eye. "Don't forget that, Roland. I'm not saying I want him to fail, or that I want Seiros to fail, but we have to be ready for anything."

"If you were not a priest, I would consider your words blasphemous," Roland warned before sighing and rubbing his forehead. "But I suppose I see the truth in them."

"That'd be a first," Ashton commented.

Roland stopped and raised a brow. "Is that how you feel? What about the time where I followed your orders in Fhirdiad?"

"Doesn't count. We were fighting for our lives."

"And trying to save someone else's in the process."

"I never said I was consistent," Ashton said, tilting his head up to look down on Roland. "I'm the reason you're alive."

Roland chuckled, shaking his head. "And believe me, old friend, I will be grateful for that for the rest of my days. Maybe someday I will be able to repay the favor."

"That day might be sooner than you think," Ashton snorted. "There's a massive battle tomorrow morning, after all. I'm wondering what'll hit me first, the sound of it or the smell of it."

Roland wrinkled his nose. "I think we both know the answer to that."

"Yup. And it's half the reason I decided to talk with you before we went into hell," Ashton clapped his hands together. "I was going to lead up to it earlier but you distracted me."

"You seem to do that just fine yourself."

"No more sass. This is serious." Ashton shook his head. "I'll be in the back, with the other healers. But we both know that the Elites target people like me. If they come up to us, then I'll try to fight them off, but I'm not soldier. Not yet, at least, and we're talking about people who have the strength to slice men clean in half."

"It will not come to that, Ashton."

Ashton waved a hand. "We can't discount the possibility, Roland. Please. I just… if something happens to me, could you tell Cethleann and the other Saints 'thank you'? I haven't heard anything from them in a while, but I assume they've tried everything at this point."

"They will find a way, my friend. I am sure of it," Roland said, placing a hand on Ashton's shoulder. "And stop speaking like this! It's unlike you."

"Really?" Ashton asked, letting out a breath. "I mean, maybe it is. I've been losing hope of ever returning home for a while now, Roland. Maybe I can make my death here mean something in the long run, you know? If four people who're called 'Saints' can't find a way, then who can?"

"You need to give it more time, and you will not be given that time iif you keep speaking like some nagging soothsayer," Roland said, tapping Ashton's shoulder before turning around.

"Can you please promise me you'll say that, at least?" Ashton asked. "I'm not saying I'm going to plunge myself on the enemy's weapons, but just in case, you know? Please, Roland? For me?"

Roland let out a sigh as he sat down. "I will take that under advisement, my friend. See to it that I do not need to fulfill my promise."

Ashton bowed his head as he took a couple steps back. "Thank you, Roland. I'll see you again when this is all over."

Roland didn't reply, and as the cool evening air washed over Ashton, ruffling his hair, he could've sworn he heard bones rattling with the wind.

The Reaper's out tonight.

Ashton finally had an answer for the question he had asked Roland the night before: he heard the battle first.

Unlike when he had been on the front lines, there was no speech, although he had no doubt that Seiros had given one, just before the arrows and fireballs went flying. He could hear the same hellish cacophony he had on the fields beneath Fhirdiad, except it was muted. Far away. It didn't lessen the impact it had on him, though; Ashton could feel himself shaking, even as men returned with grievous wounds.

Ashton's Faith magic was just barely beginning to manifest, and just when he had thought he'd never be able to use it. He didn't know what finally did it: the prophetic dream he'd had months before, or his talks with the thinly-disguised Seiros on those fields and in the church before. Whatever the case was, he could heal basic wounds decently well, but with the injuries he saw before him, he doubted his meager skills would be able to help them.

Soldiers were coming back with arms missing, legs missing, sometimes both. Those were the easy ones, though. They would never have their arm or leg back, but prosthetics existed, and he could at least stop the bleeding and ease the shock. The worst ones were those who returned with sword wounds directly through their guts or chest, or wounds more magical in nature. More often than he'd like did Ashton see singed flesh or parts of someone's body frozen solid.

Magic is not a joke.

Ashton did try his best. Truly he did, but even if he was able to stop someone bleeding, he would not be able to save people who were practically gutted. Some of the injuries he saw nearly made him quit altogether; if he couldn't help them, what was the point? True to his word, though, he made sure those under his charge either died as painlessly as possible, or were not alone by the end. It was the most he could do at times.

Still, even as he watched over several people sleeping in one of the medical tents, as the sky grew orange and yellow and the sounds of battle drew farther away, Ashton could not shake off the feeling that something was about to happen. Something horrible. It wasn't a conscious feeling; it was in the back of his mind, barely perceptible but still there, nagging at him. It was like he was in the middle of a rainless thunderstorm.

A few minutes after he discarded those feelings, he heard an explosion outside, rattling the fragile scaffolding holding the tent up. The fabric shook as another explosion hit.

"What the-?" Ashton began to say, before an ungodly force tore through the tent. Something slammed into his stomach as he was sent to the ground amidst the screaming of the wounded he had been tending to. The fabric of the tent covered him, burying him as people stomped about just near him. By some miracle, they did not step on him. The wounded with him were not as lucky; he heard their screams suddenly cut short as the wet sound of slicing flesh and shattering of bone reached his ears. He didn't know what was being done to them, but he could feel a fire burning in his chest and in his veins.

Ashton grit his teeth and held back a snarl. He could feel someone stepping around through the fabric that covered him, approaching him casually as if the person didn't just murder several unarmed and wounded people. Ashton could feel his heart beat in his ears as all other sound seemed to become muted and dull. He clenched his fists as they got closer.

When he heard the clinking of metal, just beside him, he struck.

Ashton reached his hand out through the fabric and heard the person above him let out a gasp of shock. He grabbed their ankle and yanked, tripping them as he could feel a heavy weight slam just above his head into the ground. Ashton shot to his feet, still covered in fabric as he didn't even bother to look at who had killed his people in the face. He wrapped the fabric around the person, focusing on the head as he could finally see around him.

The field just beyond the pass through the Oghma Mountains had become a bloodbath. His people, the priests he had been with for over a year, were either already dead or trying their best to fight back against the sudden ambush. They all knew it was possible this would happen, but never did Ashton believe it would happen so fast. He finally let out a snarl, bordering on a roar as he wrapped the tent fabric around the person's neck, not letting a bit of air through.

Ashton heard them sputtering within, and he looked to his right to see the weapon they had intended to bash his head in with. A warhammer sat there, laying on its side, ready to be used.

Noticing no one was nearby, Ashton threw the person to the ground. He grabbed the warhammer unceremoniously as the soldier tried their best to tear off the fabric. When they had succeeded, and Ashton could see who they were, his eyes furrowed.

A soldier would be giving the bastard too much credit. Some bearded Free Kingdom soldier, wearing furs and bits of metal. Ashton only hesitated for a moment, watching as the soldier looked up to see him looming over.

Ashton slammed the head of the warhammer against the man's face, hearing the crack of bone as the man was slammed against the ground. Ashton didn't give him time to recover if he was even still alive, and hit him again. With one final twitch, the soldier stopped moving.

That's number two.

There was no sickening feeling that time. Ashton didn't feel as if he was going to throw up looking at the broken man below him. He felt nothing. And that scared him more than anything else.

Realizing that there was still a battle going on around him, Ashton held the warhammer in his hands. It was a crude thing, with a slightly rusty iron head and wooden shaft, but it would do. He had no real martial training, focusing on learning Faith magic the past year and all, but what was there to understand about smashing people into paste?

With that in mind, Ashton, with nothing but his robe and his new warhammer, went after any Free Kingdom soldier he could. He never said word, didn't even let out a war cry as he took another one by surprise, smashing his chest open. He got another one in the arm, and he heard the crunching of bone snapping in two as the man screamed. He didn't let him suffer for long; with another strike right to the face, his mouth went silent.

Ashton's luck had to run out eventually, though. And soon enough, it did.

He felt the presence before he saw him. His hair stood on end. He felt his heartbeat quicken somehow further, so much that he thought he would pass out.

Ashton turned and saw him as the sun set below the horizon, making the blood on the ground indistinguishable from the dirt. With the same messy brown hair, beardless face, and piercing blue eyes, he was intimidating enough without the ungodly sword by his side. The weapon that had cleaved men in twain was held in his right hand, gently moving of its own accord.

"I had a feeling we would meet," the Elite known as Maurice said, running a finger along his sword's edge. "You and I have unfinished business."

Boom, cliffhanger. Feel free to hate me. I'll add you to the list.

Had a lot of fun with this chapter. Hope that continues!

Unfortunately, this Chapter wasn't beta'd, so if you see anything off about it, please let me know!

Here's a link to our Discord server: discord .gg/9XG3U7a

Hope to see you guys next week!