“Few dared greet her. The second’s mangled body was a sight of what may begot on the men inside the walls soon. Within pain and agony, she showed strength by kneeling to the only brave knight that dared met her, there she signed the third and produce the form of what lay beyond the darkened pines and mounts”

  My thoughts wandered among complete darkness, it was soothing though; not feeling pain or need after this unwanted ‘expedition’ through the mountain pass. Colt came to mind, the horse, the cave, was it a dream? Maybe or maybe not, either way, I had to rise and check on everything, can’t stay in this bliss for much longer… Something is wrong… I’m not returning, I fainted, right? Or… I died? Could I have die? But it doesn’t make sense.

  It’s weird but, I try to open my eyes and see; a field, tents, the Langedar. This ain’t a dream, Its more of a memory but… it’s too lucid and I’m stuck. My gaze goes to me… but not me, well, my younger self; that brown unkempt hair, a tiny bag around my waist and the white padded armor with the golden Langedar… so bright, and it seems I’m writing on my journal, the one I lost after Portsen… that’s right, this is before the Portsen assault, I was twelve, only twelve. I can read what I’m writing, “Day one hundred and fifth of marching. We finally met our other half, they were waiting just beyond the river that divides the Union from the Territory of Olander, twenty five thousand strong now adding up, becoming a full division where---”, can’t read beyond that… it gets blurry somehow. Olander, huh?, yeah, I remember now, we we’re supposed to met the other army who were going by ship. Hehe, also, I wrote like an historian or something, that’s right, I remember how I wanted to keep everything in record so I could publish a book afterwards. Freshly out of the orphanage, I was a ‘deeply religious’, all by the book and by the law, but most of my ‘pious traits’ got scrapped off bit by bit during the campaign.

  “Oi kid! Stop writing on that fucking book and come ‘ere”, his voice… my head immediately snapped towards his voice, the same way my younger self did, funny how I had forgotten most of him, Sir Browning; a knight turned holy knight, the one I was assigned to squire for. “Sew the bloody tunic and get the coin that Allas owes me”, Browning said, throwing my journal away and dragging me to the tent by my collar, “I’ll go get a drink, better have my coin before then, boy”, he always followed the boy with a slap on my head… The first days of the campaign I would always cry after a beating, but the crying made him mad, ‘I can’t fucking relax with your whining’, he would say and beat me worst, so I stopped altogether. Browning wasn’t an actual holy knight but a knight for the count of Lannvia Pudia, one who was caught doing unknightly things like selling himself as a mercenary outside of the Empire, so he was brought back and given two choices, either be executed in the spot or join the holy army and be spared… he reluctantly agreed to the latter. He usually unloaded his frustrations on me, normally with his hands, sometimes he would talk and talk, specially when drunk, about his family and how life was unfair and so and so, and it was a gamble, sometimes he would spend his whole day insulting me and beating me, but somedays, not that often, he would actually just talk and even teach me things.

  If this was the one hundred and fifth day, then it meant I was completely accustomed to his abuse. During the second campaign, we didn’t do much besides marching, I would read, if given the chance, or sew, stargaze or even train a bit, something squires weren’t allow to do in the holy army. Me and Sir Browning, were placed in the fourth division of the holy army, there were supposed to be five and each one sported the name of one of the gods, ours was Ilanda; the goddess of destiny. At first, I was excited with finally performing the duties I was groomed to do perfectly, be a great squire, become a knight and defeat the Calamity, then become a hero of the faith or something like that, easy things to put into a child’s mind. All of that was broken after Portsen, seeing how I was before puts into perspective what, in that moment, I had as the greatest goal, my dream of becoming a hero and return to Sonnda.

  It amazed me how I could see myself, maybe the sword was enhancing the memory somehow? I didn’t know, but it gave a different perspective of the memory itself. The young hands, my hands, were sewing the tunic with diligence and dexterity, I was taught in the orphanage to sew as part of the duties of a squire, but I was letting some sighs while working on the tunic, wimpy sighs like muffled crying, never realized I used to do that. The memory shifted and I saw myself outside on the campaign camp; which was filled with tents, some with tables outside and knights playing cards, talking and drinking, the color of most tents retained the white and gold of the holy knights of Roda but, thanks to the other half of our forces meeting us before, the other side had some tents with green and red colors; tents belonging to the faithfuls of the Divine Exaltation, there were fewer because, from the thirty five faithfuls, we had less than ten faithfuls in our camp, but they were the greatest warriors that they had to offer. My younger self made its way to the outside of a tent that didn’t stand out from the other rodian ones, but I knew, he knew, it was the one of Allas and his group.

  Sir Allas Lettenburg, a member of the same ‘Lettenburgs’ as the family of the knight of light, was the third son of the fourth cousin of Astorian Lettenburg; who is the archduke of the Northern Belt of Roda, a slim region of land with a history of conflict with Centralia. The Lettenburgs are a family of knights and champions, for long they’ve helped Roda by supplying their family members as knights or military advisors, and for long they were hoping to groom the perfect warrior, a hero, seems they’ve done it with Cassandra… Anyway, Allas, despite being a Lettenburg and all, he was made a holy knight by order of his father, because he, as Browning once told me, ‘was a dimwit loser with a small dong that talked back to his daddy’, so Allas wasn’t worth more than any of the other knights in the army, he couldn’t pull any influence as being a holy knight meant surrendering land claims and heritage.

  I didn’t dislike Sir Allas though, he was afraid of his situation and put up a tough guy facade. He did form a group of knights with the promise of becoming rich, he told them that he would use his name to get benefits from lords in Roda after the war, maybe start a mercenary company and such. Going back to the memory, well, I stood waiting outside his tent, when I realized he was hiding from me, “Sir Allas. I can see you behind the crate”, I said and he came out laughing, “Oh! Hahaha, you found me, Tak. W-were you looking for me? I was actually about to… uh… do things… important things and I don’t have time”, he tried to form an excuse, like many other times, knowing I always came by to see him just to retrieve coin he owed Browning from playing cards. “Sir Allas, you know I don’t like to pry, I’m just a squire but, if I don’t come back with the money you owe Sir Browning, then he’ll beat me… badly”, I said and Allas gazed down with a sad expression, “What a terrible monster he is… a-alright, here”, he handed me five copper coins and a pat to the head, “There ya go. Oh! And tell Browning we’ll be playing again tonight, I’ll introduce him to some knights I met from the reinforcements, see ya!”.

  Five coins… well, my younger self stared at the coins and we shared the same thought, ‘Browning didn’t tell me how much Allas owed him’, so an evening beating by Browning was still on the cards. My younger self made his way back to Browning’s tent but suddenly stopped, something caught his and my eyes, then the memory manifested perfectly, one of the thirty five faithfuls; he sported a completely black uniform, didn’t even look like he had armor, and a chaperon covered his head completely except for his face; which was painted white with some type of motifs that accentuated his brows, cheeks and mouth. He was sitting on a stool, next to a tree, praying under his breath with one feet over his thigh, he was scrapping off the skin of his soles, dripping blood on the grass below. The reason for that was known to me, for one of the faithfuls, the mere fact of setting foot on foreign ground, one outside the Divine Exaltation, meant setting foot on corrupted land, so they would scrape off the skin of their soles once a week.

  The memory shifted, I was back in Browning’s tent, sitting and reading like I used to do to pass the time, I knew my younger self was worried about Browning’s return and what he would say of the coins Allas gave. In this strange memory, I was able to look around me and see different things I thought I had forgotten about; the full-set of armor that Browning had on a mannequin, a small collection of teeth from different animals he hunted, the only book he read… only seen him opened it once, ‘Tales of the Beyonder’, a weird book that, if I remember correctly, talked about an entity that could travel through time, weird reading material coming from someone like Browning. As for me, it seemed I was reading a book of poems, couldn’t see its title nor name.

  “Kid”, all of the sudden I heard Browning’s voice calling to me, he had entered the tent and I hadn’t even notice it. He had two dead hares hanging from his neck and got close to see what I was doing, “Are you reading a fucking poem? Are you a faggot or something? Here”, he threw the dead hares at me, “Skin them and salt them. I’ll do the boiling this time, since you’re that fucking useless you might end up overcooking it”. My younger self obliged, like always, immediately performing what was requested, without complains. Cooking was something I was taught in the orphanage, cooking wild animals to be more specific, but I wasn’t particularly good at it, now I usually stick to soups or stews. As I was doing what he asked, I felt a pinch or relief at him not asking for the coin but, almost like he was reading my mind, he came up to me and grabbed my hand, “Also, where’s the coin Allas owed me?”, didn’t need to enter my younger self mind to remember the strength he would use on me, his grip on my hand always hard and brutish. “H-he gave me five-”, I said as I placed the five coins on the table, “Five?!”, Browning exclaimed and I flinched, preparing myself for a hit but instead he backed down, “Five…? Was it five…? I don’t recall, anyway”, he shrugged and I sighed under my breath. “Also, He- Allas invited you to play cards tonight with some of the new knights from the reinforcements”, I said and turned to get back to the task as I didn’t want to provoke anything else on Browning, “Ah… new knights, alright. I’ll go see Allas then”, he said and forcefully turned my head to meet his gaze, “I retract. I won’t boil the hares, you do it. The meal better be finished by the time I come back… and it better be bloody delicious”, finally he let go of me and went out to the camp, this guy surely loved instilling fear in children.

  During this, I was wondering why I was brought to this day in particular and I had a feeling that I was going to get something from this. This time the memory didn’t shift but it became faster and I could see my younger self cooking and putting up the table, Browning preferred to eat alone in his tent and go drinking afterwards, so we always dined together. Close to evening, Browning came back and didn’t make any comments on the food or the cooking, he sat and ate, always stealing glances at me and close to finishing his meal he said, “I’ll be playing cards with Allas and those knights in an hour or so, you’ll accompany me and help with stuff, alright? One of the knights is Paul Gallard, one of the sons of Roland Gallard and he’ll be playing with high stakes”, that name was important in Roda but my younger self was estranged, Browning often avoided having me around or having me be seen with him, “O-Ok sir, but what do I have to do?”, I asked with that innocent voice I used to have, “Just pour the drinks, shuffle the cards or something. Stop asking fucking questions”, he said and I nodded.

  Like Browning said, Sir Paul Gallard was the fifth son of Roland Gallard, who was the count of Londincom, a city that is one of the most important in Roda. Londincom was kept a county as its importance couldn’t be shared with any duke that might threaten the crown, so the city was given to the Gallards; who were a faithful family that helped the Empress family in the reunification wars. The importance of Londincom couldn’t be underestimated, it had the biggest port in all the continent and it had levies that could easily defeat most duchies, and the Gallards were an all powerful and rich family but… Paul in particular wasn’t, I mean, he was richer than any of the other holy knights but, like Allas, he didn’t have the same influence, except for one thing. That particular evening, he was celebrating the death of one of his brothers, the third one to be precise, with only one son left standing on line of succession, as Roland’s first son died long ago and his fourth was missing, Paul was hoping to snatch the heritage for his own. So Paul’s influenced relied solely upon promises to those that befriended him as, despite him being a holy knight, if his father lost all his sons, he would gain the right to be Lord of Londincom back.

  Once night had settled and the bonfires lighted the hole camp up, Browning led me through the camp to the other side of the hill we were on, where the reinforcements had their tents and where, in between them, sat one of the biggest tents, more like a pavilion than a tent, and next to it there was a table with five knights, one of them being Allas, all laughing and playing cards. “Oi you fucks, already started without me?”, Browning exclaimed with a chuckle as he greeted all the knights at the table, stopping before Paul, “Here’s the kid I told you about”, he said and shoved me forward. Seeing my younger self standing in front of Paul, that’s when I understood why I was remembering this in particular. Paul wasn’t a fighter nor a soldier nor a knight, he might been given the title of holy knight but his appearance gave him away; he was wearing a special flexible armor because of the size of his belly, and his face looked tiny thanks to his double chin, obviously not a particular graceful man but one that, amidst the holy knights, impose respect only through name.

  “This is your squire, right? Come closer boy”, Paul said while smiling and I approached him, “I see, you must be a diligent young boy from the looks of it”, he remarked as he caressed my hands and my cheeks, “You’ll become a great knight, I can see that in your eyes. But tonight, I’ll need you to do something really important, alright? Follow me”, he led me inside the pavilion; which was completely furbished with drawers, tables, chairs, a metal stove, it looked more like a house that a soldier’s pavilion, it was ridiculous. “The cups are in that drawer. And I had these two barrels be separated, this one is wine, the other is ale, do half and half with the cups. I’ll leave you to it… uh, what’s your name, boy?”, he asked and I bowed, “My name is Tak, sir”, and Paul patted my back before leaving, “I know you’ll give me good luck tonight, Tak”.

  I know what was my train of thought while preparing the cups... ‘He seems nice, better than Browning for sure’, ‘Even has a nice tent, unlike Browning’s’, ‘His squire must surely be happy’, and that’s when I noticed the complete lack of squires, there wasn’t one in the pavilion or another one helping outside. I didn’t give much of a thought at that time and continued with my duty, I did pour the drinks and shuffle the cards like Browning wanted and, as the game progressed, only Browning and Paul remained in game. While I was cleaning the cups, I could hear them speaking through the pavilion’s wall. “You’re a sly dog, Browning. Not only you’re good at the game but are urging me to bet more… ”, Paul said and Browning laughed under his breath, “Hehehe, well, if you want to get him, you’ll have to go higher, five gold coins won’t suffice, ain’t a night what you’ll be getting”. Obviously, my younger self didn’t understand at that moment, he just went outside to pour another round and saw the middle of the table filled with copper coins, some silver ones and seven gold coins. “Oh, Tak. Please come here, give me some luck”, Paul said and snatched my arm, pulling me next to him; one arm around my hip and in the other he had two dice, “Blow on it. That should do it!”, I bend and blew on his hand, and all the men in the table laughed, except for Browning, then Paul held me next to him, his hand caressing my bottom as I stared at Browning. “Alright! Let’s see…”, Paul threw the dice and got a three, “Agh! For fuck’s sake. Go boy!”, he slapped my butt with force, pushing me away, and Browning smiled wide as he reached to collect all the coins.

  They finished the game and spent the rest of the hour drinking and talking. Their conversation topics escaped my naive ears but, from time to time, I would reach down to pat where he touched before, I wasn’t told anything in the orphanage, or by anyone, but I intrinsically felt it was wrong. “Nice boy you got, Browning. Shouldn’t be so hard on him, next time let me be hard on him, hahahaha”, Paul laughed with the others and Allas asked, “Talking about squires, where are yours, sir? It was nice of Browning to bring Tak but the kid is doing everything by himself”, a question that made Paul laugh again, “Hahaha, I don’t know, they come and go. Last two I bought from one knight. They were probably the best I had. Nothing like the hole of an orphan, specially when you choke them while at it, the tightness is supreme! I’ll never have another whore again after that”, Paul replied and another knight asked, “Not even a wolven? I mean, I loved me wife but after fucking a wolven, can’t even look back, I’ll prefer fucking a wolven male butt than kissing me wife again. Wolven pussy is the best!”, then everyone chanted ‘Wolven pussy is the best’, five times, while laughing and hitting the table.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “By the gods, by the gods. Mondis, pardon their offenses, Iris, save their souls as they are blaspheming against the commandments, oh gods”, a foreign voice broke the laughing and I turned to see that it was one of the thirty five faithfuls, she was kneeling and practically kissing the ground while rocking back and forward, praying under her breath. “W-what? Get out of here, we are all of the faith in here and don’t need you to scold us… fucking zealot”, Paul exclaimed and the faithful rose to her feet and pointed to each knight, “You, you, you, you… what await us is the highest of honors. We will face it, then our faith will be tested. The Calamity knows no boundaries, it knows no gods, we shall perish in glory as we fight such an undesired beast!”, the faithful exclaimed and left like it came, without making any sound. The knights sat shrugging for a minute before one asked, “Do anyone really believes in that thing? The Calamity? It sounds like folklore”, and Allas pondered before saying, “Well, the first campaign had like… what? Forty, Fifty survivors only? Something did destroy Sonnda, Sinder and Cocsisborough, and something did take control of M?n. I’ve heard that ‘the Calamity’ is actually an army, one that came from across the sea, some tongues say is actually an Oorish army sent to reclaim their indigenous land”, they all laughed at Allas and Browning said, “Oorish? Tsk, that’s idiotic. You know what I heard? by a medic nonetheless, that the Calamity is actually a disease that causes hallucinations before killing you, so it kills fast and those that survive are fucked up in the mind. That makes more sense if you ask me… anyway, I guess we’ll find out once we get to M?n”. After another hour, I was dismissed and I had the need to go clean myself, I went to the stream and scrubbed my skin thoroughly… I didn’t understand yet, but I knew I had to clean the dirtiness. Browning came early that night and, once in the tent, he just looked at me and said, “Sorry”, under his breath. I thought I had heard wrong, I thought that for many years but now, revisiting the memory, I can see that it wasn’t a mistake, it was the first and only time he apologized to me.

  All of the sudden, everything became a blur; memories of the following days flashed before me, finally landing on another memory, one I actually had some recollection of. After that night, where Browning apologized, he began to act differently, a bit more lenient and less aggressive, he still threw insults at me but he hardly raised his hand against me, moreover, he began taking me to hunt with him and teaching me some techniques with the sword, he was the one that instill in me the practice of cleaning the sword everynight, and how to handle it in the face of a threat. This memory in particular is from ten or twenty days after the last one, after the army left Olander and continue northbound, now a force of fifty thousand, we reached the territory belonging to the Petty Kingdom of Pletonia; which extended through part of the eastern coast and was the last nation that could receive shipments of soldiers, beyond them laid the central-northern settlements and even further stood M?n. Problem was that these nations weren’t keen on helping those of the faith, they had their own believes or were mostly laic, they feared the holy army may turn to pillage towns, something that the first division did on the west, so they gave the bare minimum just to keep us away from their towns and cities. Browning preferred to eat what he hunted, one rainy day he took me out of the camp and into a nearby forest, gave me a crossbow and led me to my first hunt.

  We hid under the pines which gave some refuge from the rain, my younger self’s hands were trembling trying to hold the crossbow, “S-sir… how long we have to wait?”, I asked and Browning frowned, “Shhh. Keep quiet, kid. I don’t know what we’ll find in these woods but if you keep yapping we won’t be able to hunt shit”. Browning went deeper into the forest and stood still, trying to hear, then scoured the ground and kneeled, “Okay. This is… hare’s feces”, he said and poked the green-brownish sphere shape feces, it repulsed me but I hid my expression from him, “They’re fresh. Now quiet, see there”, he pointed where a small wet print lay on top of a fallen leaf, don’t know how was he able to see something so minuscule, but he got closer and confirmed his though, “Yeah, hare’s feet. Only one, in the snow you can get them more easily… it’s going… west. Come”. I followed closely behind and after a few meters more of walking, he stopped and pushed me to a crouch, in front of us there was a large bush with a hole next to it, “Yes… that should be it. Hare’s do their den next to bushes like that. Pay attention, they are really curious animals, so you point the crossbow forward and keep it steady, I’ll throw something to see if one will come out”. I kneeled and tried my best to hold the crossbow still, Browning took two tiny rocks and threw them perfectly to the entrance of the burrow, then he raised a single finger; telling me to keep quiet and guided the end of the crossbow with his hand. A few seconds passed and nothing, only the sound of the rain, and my arms began to shake from the effort, Browning would side eye me, and, even if I dislike him, I didn’t want to disappoint him, so I did my best to hold still.

  From the burrow then emerged two furry ears, then the head, the hare looked to the sides with its big black eyes and its nose sniffing around. I aimed and was about to shoot but Browning noticed and lowered the crossbow, pointing it to the ground. The hare slowly came out and, once it had its full body in view, Browning closed one eye and moved the end of the crossbow, doing the aiming for me. Browning tapped two times the crossbow and I closed my palm on the trigger, the bolt flew and missed the hare’s head, impaling its upper back instead, the hare screeched in pain and Browning laugh, “Haha, not bad, not bad at all, c’mon”, he jumped forwards and ran to the downed animal. The hare was flailing its legs wildly, trying to run from something it didn’t understand, and its head was trashing forwards and backwards, so Browning took his dagger out and handed it to me, “Finish it, be sure to cut its throat and drain its blood”. I doubted as I took the dagger in my hand, I was feeling pity for the animal, I didn’t bat an eye when the cooks killed the animals back in the orphanage or when I skin them, but having to kill one was different, and Browning saw my hesitation, “What? Feeling sorry for the hare?… it’ll be like that, your first time. But you’ll get use to it. Be quick with the dagger, delaying is only prolonging its pain”, his words didn’t felt like something Browning would say, it came out sympathetic and it worked, I kneeled and slit the hare’s throat. “Here. Tie the hare and hang it, don’t lose it”, he handed me rope and I tied it to my hip, “Alright, let’s head back, one hare its fine for your first time and I had enough of the rain, it gets harder to hunt like this”.

  Despite the fact we walked quite the distance from the camp, Browning expertly knew exactly were we had walked before, and began to make the way back the same way came. The rain shifted into tinier droplets as the sky obscured even more, a storm was forming, it became darker, almost like twilight but in plain noon. I remembered my train of thought during our way back, how I had killed the hare and now carried its dead body with me, I had taken a life and the scriptures do punish those that murder the innocent, and that hare was innocent… my younger self was battling those thoughts and I could hear the sound of distant whimpering, could it be? Could it be the soul of the hare hunting me? It started to frightened me, I wanted to ask Browning about it and he stopped all of the sudden, “Shhh… hear that?”, he whispered, “Follow me and don’t make a noise”. Browning changed directions and went deeper into another part of the forest, the sound of a, what I can describe as a, squeaky whimpering, became louder, it wasn’t a ghost and Browning knew, never saw him smile that widely. Even if the light of the sun was being obscure, he pointed to the ground with precision, “A trail, see that… it’s a trail of tears”, he said, and I was dumbfounded, in closer inspection you could see it, how it differed from the wetness of the rain, it dimly shined, “We are in luck, kid. You’re about to see a rare creature, but you must keep quiet and refrain from doing any sudden movements, got it?”, Browning warned then squatted and slowly followed the source of the crying.

  He moved a bush aside and the creature came into view, “Look at that”, he said, “That’s a squonk… amusing little things they are. Let’s approach slowly”. It was the first time I saw one, a magical creature that is, it wasn’t a brawen or a specter or worst, it was a feeble squonk; a tiny rodent-like animal that would whimper and cry at anything, it had two big black eyes, just like the hare I had killed. Browning went to it slowly and, when the squonk felt his presence, it began to squeakily cry, “Shh… shh… c’mon now, don’t cry”, he crouched and caressed the back of the creature, its eyes were overflowing with tears, “These things come out at night, specially rainy ones. Seems we we’re lucky it got dark while it rained. Hopefully it won’t die, these things can cry themselves to death”, Browning pointed out and gently raised the squonk, placing it on his palm which got soaked in tears, “Give it a pet, you won’t have another chance like this”, he said. I was reluctant at first but I obliged and extended a shaky hand, Browning noticed that and gripped my wrist, “Gently, or it will dissolve”, he said and let go, I steadied my hand and felt the smooth fur of the squonk, and it seemed to calm the creature somewhat, it stopped crying and limited to just faint whimper. “Third time I’ve seen one of these. Would love to take it back and sell it, they can go for twenty, even thirty gold coins… fuck, if I wasn’t in this stupid army I would…”. We caressed the squonk for a minute, the creature seemed comfortable with us, before Browning kneeled and gently let the squonk on the ground again. “Best to let it go. Can’t think of carrying it for long, they’ll just become a pool of tears in your bag. Can’t eat them but, if you need hydration, cutting one of these is like a pint of water”, Browning explained and stood again, “Anyway, let’s get back”. I didn’t like Browning, I disliked his views, how he treated me and others, his drunkard ways and stupid remarks, but… he sometimes had his moments of ‘goodness’. The memory faded away from my eyes, I needed to go back to Colt, to stop this somehow, but I had the feeling that there was still one more.

  In the stillness between memories, I took some time to reflect and I wondered about what could be next. These ‘projections’ actually brought many of those memories back in full, specially of Browning who I had left mostly forgotten in the depths of my mind. I can also recall what happened after the encounter with the squonk; the army left Pletonia and crossed a stretch of steppes named ‘The Divisor’ which belonged to the nation that hosted the settlements attacked by the Calamity, the Sacred Kingdom. From what I was thinking a memory formed in front of me, one that matched what I expected, in this memory I was alone. My younger self was writing in the journal, just like the first memory, this time I could read clearly, “Day one hundred and fifty-five of marching, we are now crossing the Divisor, we hope to be able to reach the first town affected by the Calamity in three days, Portsen is called. Our own division has some Portsen-born knights, who were out of their hometown when the Calamity struck, now they wish nothing more than take back what belongs to them, their home. I hope the same, Sonnda belongs to this Kingdom, my hometown isn’t that far away, I might be able to reclaim something that was took away from me since birth. There are some issues though, the food supply is dwindling badly, the fifth division couldn’t secure enough supplies in they arrival on Olander, and we are now in a dire situation, the next two days we’ll have to ration what we have and then hope to find crops or cattle in Portsen or its surrounding farms.

  My hands tremble and my mind fills with thoughts as we step closer and closer to face our enemy. Even if some of the knights don’t share the same devotion or the same determination, I’m proud of being part of such a great feat, being part of the great holy army. Having my name recorded, even if in a grave, may prove enough to the gods that I’m worthy. Still, my greatest wish is to be able to see it, at least one time, Sonnda, see how it is, settle and fight for it, for my own home.

  Sir Browning, I hoped that you would be with me in this endeavor, shame you won’t be there to see me triumph.”

  Bold, I was bold… at least that’s how it looks like from my writing. Browning wasn’t with me because a few days before this entry, he ran away and deserted the holy army, just before entering the Divisor, knowing he wouldn’t be chased and apprehended. Can’t deny I was angry at him, more than when he insulted or beat me, I was too devout to the faith, his desertion meant a bigger offense for me. My younger self didn’t notice until we reached the outskirts of Portsen but, the next two days, a silence ensued among… everything, the Calamity’s presence was already inside the steepes, even if faint. That was my last entry to that journal which I lost in Portsen, I couldn’t record the next three days, how the army starved itself; the Divisor served as a stretched of unusable land, without animals to hunt and, in hindsight, must have protected the southern nations from the Calamity, but also meant a retreat would starved the army to death. We didn’t knew at that point in time, that the Calamity killed all animals and corrupted the soil, meaning no crops or meat, no eggs nor milk, no nothing. But, at the same time, it didn’t matter as all of the fourth and fifth division died in Portsen.

  The first division made the west route; going through Centralia and joining the second division in the West Kingdom, they were well supplied and followed the route of the west coast to Lindelen where they began their march directly to M?n. They were a force of almost fifty thousand, just like ours, they perished on their way there, all except for the faithfuls, they were recalled to the Divine Exaltation… all of them, even the ones in my division. The third division moved by sea, like the fifth, but they went further north, disembarking deeper into Calamity’s territory, no one returned. From the assault on Portsen, only me and four more survived and we were relieved by a small force that arrived late to the assault, they took me back to Roda. Even if the Second Holy Campaign was a failure, the empress knighted me as holy knight and I was set to take a role in the Third Holy Campaign, one that became the reason why I wield this sword, only a fourteen year old at the time. It’s funny… I think, how I never heard of a Fourth one in the works, the Calamity is treated like it doesn’t exists, the empress branded me as a traitor after being the only survivor from M?n, and now I’m practically the only one willing to face the Calamity again, might as well be the Fourth Campaign on my own.

  I’ve seen enough but the memory didn’t stop, it accelerated, it continued; I was seeing the next days, when we passed the Divisor and got to the firsts farmhouses and parcels, all of which were deserted and dried out, no cattle, no skeletons, nothing, so the army didn’t stop and finally reached the outskirts of Portsen. I don’t want to see more, I don’t want to see it again, to be reminded of what happened in Portsen, I want the memory to stop… The fear, I didn’t expect it to be this bad, just seeing the quietness before the horror, it’s enough, please… I need to go back, I have to get back to Colt. I close my eyes inside the memory, my fears seem to encourage the trauma even more, I know where my younger self is at, he’s among the soldiers that are walking to their death, just before the scarlet mist surrounds us… that fear and uncertainty I had, is not transferred to me like the other memories, this time I can feel nothing but anger, one that feels like fire inside my chest, I’ve never felt so much hate in my heart, but this anger isn’t mine, it doesn’t belong to me, this one belongs to the sword. As the memory produces the sounds of the flesh creatures who decimated the army; the blood spilling, the screaming, the sound of bones getting crushed by the tendrils that invaded and corrupted human bodies, the sword speaks to me… it has a voice for once, “See”, It says, “Do not forget. Be truth to your heart and to our spite”.

  Light. I see light that blinds me… and I smell? Smell… I’ve awoken and feel no more pain. I’m in the cave, that one Colt saw… wait, Colt’s not here. I turn to look and only see the horse, “Uff… thank the gods you made it”, I let out and the horse neighed. “T-Tak?”, I heard Colt’s voice and I feel him hugging me from behind, “Tak!!! Y-you’re alive, I thought you were dead and I- thought… wahhhhh-”, he cried a fountain on my back as I slowly turned, he was putting pressure on my wounds, “Yeah, yeah, I’m not dead, you don’t have to cry like that-”, I said and stopped short as I saw another man standing on the entrance of the cave. I looked around for my sword but Colt grabbed my arm, “D-don’t worry, Tak. He’s Norman, and he helped me… us, with everything. He’s actually from Prime Bay”, Colt said and Norman, who wearing a different layers of cloths, and carrying various tools, undid his scarf, he was an older man, that’s what his large gray beard told me, “Hello Tak. This little guy wouldn’t stop talking about you. Glad you made it. Uh… how are your wounds? You feeling alright?”, he asked.

  I slowly rose to my feet, feeling the weight of my body, patting my sides to see if it hurt too much, and sensation came back to my limbs, “I’m… better. Starving and really needing to take a shit, but better. Also, how long was I out?”, I asked and Colt dramatically kneeled, “It was horrible! I didn’t know how long I could endure-”, “One day. I found Colt yesterday”, Norman answered and stopped with the crybaby. One day wasn’t so bad, I stretched a bit as Norman talked about how he found us, “The other night, surely the one you fainted, this little guy managed to make a bonfire inside the cave. I was working on the mountain when I looked up and noticed the light piercing thought the blizzard. With those conditions, only fools would go into altitude at night, so I knew it must have been foreigners and I made the decision of go and see for myself. Yesterday morning, I peeked inside the cave and saw the little guy munching on some crackers, you lying on the cold stone floor, and the horse shaking from the cold”, I side eyed Colt as Norman told me that, he avoided my gaze, “Good. So the kobold ate the horse crackers as we froze to death, great…”, I commented and Norman chuckled and petted Colt’s head, “Don’t be so hard on him. What’s foolish is bringing a kobold to a cold place like this, he did help you, the horse, and himself by lighting that fire”.

  Didn’t need a random stranger to scold me… even if he is a bit in the right… “So, what were you doing in these mountains exactly?”, I asked, curious about his gear, he pulled a metal rod from the bag on his back and pressed button, the metal rod turned into a pickaxe, “I’m mining. These mountains are full of corid, and buying the raw material is too expensive so, I mine it myself. That pretty necklace of the faith you have is made of that, you know?”. Corid? I thought these were made of silver… a ‘special divine silver that always points to the truth!’ the father said when I was in the orphanage and… yeah, it sound stupid now that I think of it. “Corid, huh? You are of the faith?”, I asked and he laughed out loud, “Me? Of the faith? Hahahaha… faith… an enforcer would cut my fucking balls if I was of the faith. Ah… no, I only pray to my metals”.

  As I dressed my chestplate back, I though of what happened during the time I was out, who was this guy, I hoped he wasn’t of Delia, or something, I wanted to see his wrists but I didn’t want to scare him off too. And what I remembered… the Godsword, it talked? A sword that talks?… it felt weirdly right somehow, like it always talked, I mean, I know what it wants but it never formed a sentence so clear before, and the anger I felt, once I meet the Calamity again, would it be like that? “Tak, listen, I’ll be heading back to Prime Bay, I’m more than willing to help you down the mountain, if you agree to help me with the bags full of corid”, Norman offered while Colt looked at me with big eyes, like if I was going to refuse, “Yes, why not? Better than freezing to death… thank you”, I replied and got readied but Norman stopped me, “Wait, wait. First go take that shit you need to take, give it a little piss while you’re at it. Then eat something or you’ll faint again in the middle of the trail”. I had to agree, so we spent another hour in the cave before I was ready. “Alright girls, you two go on the horse and follow me!”, Norman said and we headed back outside to face the cold wind.