With a deep frown etched onto his face, Alaric pulled on the reins, bringing Maggie to a halt. Behind him, Ezran and Thorne reined in their mounts, gazes sweeping the surrounding area. The acrid smell of smoke hung heavily on the air, mingling with the cloying, sweet stench of death—a scent all too familiar to Alaric.
As if uncomfortable, Maggie sidestepped. Alaric, tightening his grip on the reins, ran his gaze over the unhappy scene before him and let go a heavy breath. He felt not just unhappy, but suddenly depressed. Up the road twenty yards, Ganister, noticing Alaric had stopped, called his mounted escort to a halt.
“Is there a problem, my lord?” Ganister called back.
Though Alaric wanted to say yes, he shook his head. “No.”
Maggie pawed at the ground and snorted. It was clear she wanted to ride, to move on from this place. Leaning forward, he patted the side of her neck in a reassuring manner. Horses did not like the smell of death. Alaric did not like it either. It was so strong, he could taste it on his tongue.
“The senseless death that war brings.” Alaric exhaled heavily, speaking to himself in a low tone. “I really had hoped to put it all away in a box somewhere, to never be opened again.”
“My lord?” Thorne inquired, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked over.
“This,” Alaric began, his hand sweeping over the scene, a farm sitting along the right side of the road. Like the others they passed, it had been carved from the heart of the forest and likely had been a mean affair, the inhabitants near dirt-poor.
The farmstead was now only ruin and ash, something the forest, like a hungry monster, would greedily reclaim within a handful of years. This small, meager tract of land, barely larger than two acres, was but one of several they’d passed since beginning the march this day. After the fourth or fifth razed farm, Alaric had stopped counting.
The road Alaric’s army was marching along was little more than a cart path that cut through the southernmost part of Urburn’s thick forests. Courtesy of Ulden’s maps, Alaric’s army was marching along Kanar’s border along a series of worn backroads.
Behind them, three hundred yards back, the van of his army rounded a bend on the road and came into view, closing the distance with every step forward. The men were singing as they marched, likely the sergeants’ doing to keep spirits up. It was also one way to pass the time and take the mind off weightier matters, such as death, which was never far from any soldier’s thoughts as they marched off to war.
The road was poorly maintained, with the forest closing in tightly on both sides. It was barely wide enough for a single wagon. His men had been forced to walk in a loose column of two, making the length of march, from the front of the column to the end, even longer. Alaric had been told by Duncan it stretched over twenty miles.
So poor was this road, there had been times when the entire army had been forced to halt to remove fallen trees or rebuild a bridge over a small stream. Alaric’s men had even been forced to widen and smooth the road at points so the wagons and carts could better make their way through rough areas.
Partially turned in his saddle, Lieutenant Ganister was still looking back on Alaric, clearly waiting for him to begin moving again. Alaric shifted his gaze to the ruins of what had once been a farmhouse but was now a pile of charred beams sitting over an ash-covered stone foundation. The small barn next to the house had been torched as well. The bodies of a man, a woman, and a small child, barely older than a toddler, lay in the farmyard. Ravens were already at work on the dead, busily worrying at their flesh, seeking the softest and juiciest morsels, even as the bodies began to bloat.
The field of what looked like hay had been burned and the vegetable garden torn up, the enemy having pulled from it whatever had been edible at this early point in the growing season. Around the small farm, the forest loomed, its edges blackened where the flames had lapped hungrily before being extinguished by rain or the fire simply burning itself out. Alaric’s gaze traced the charred tree trunks and the scorched underbrush that bordered the farm.
His unhappiness grew.
“My lord,” Thorne said, speaking up, “are you—okay?”
“This—” The unhappiness within Alaric shifted to a sullen and simmering rage. It was building, mounting, and with it, the ring on his finger was growing hot. “I had thought by returning home, I would be done with such horrors, finished…” Alaric expelled a hot breath. “I was naive to think so.”
“I understand, my lord,” Thorne replied softly, his voice a steady presence amidst the echoes of destruction, the stillness around them. He ran his gaze over the dead and then looked back on Alaric.
The scowl on Alaric’s face deepened as he glanced to his Shadow Guard.
“What do you want me to say?” Thorne responded to the look, gesturing toward the desolate farm with a sweep of his hand. “That things like this never end? That there will always be killing to one degree or another? That this happened because King Thorold of Averndale views Kavahn’s king as weak and decided to take advantage of that? You already know the truth, so why have me voice it?”
Alaric gave a grunt.
“Real strength keeps things like this from happening,” Thorne added. “You are the proof of that.”
“Under your rule, my lord, Dekar has been made peaceful,” Ezran said, joining the conversation. “You made that a reality through military might and personal resolve. But it hasn’t brought an end to killing or the suffering of others, those beyond your control.”
“This”—Thorne gestured at the ruined farm—“is nothing more than a fact of life for a border land such as Urburn. You have seen it in the holy land and now you have seen it here in Kevahn.”
“You both are making me feel so much better,” Alaric said dryly. “I should really seek your counsel more often. It has been quite cheering to the spirit.”
“Is cheering up what you really want?” Ezran asked. “Or is it blood?”
Alaric paused, reflecting on the question. His gaze drifted back to his approaching army, which was drawing closer, grinding its way steadily forward.
“No,” Alaric said, “cheering up is not something I need. I am beyond that.”
“Then what is it you seek?” Ezran pressed, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. “Blood?”
“I am not sure,” Alaric admitted.
“There will always be killing, murder, rape, and pillaging,” Ezran said, “especially when it comes to war, where the baser nature of man emerges.”
“This sort of thing bothers me,” Alaric admitted. “I could not bring myself to ever do something like this, even to our enemies on the worst of days.”
“That is one of the reasons why we follow you,” Thorne said.
Feeling the frustration and rage, Alaric slapped his leg lightly. What was being done to Urburn was intentional. There was no doubt in his mind about that. The enemy was sowing terror. At the same time, what monsters were they building amongst their own ranks?
Two of the birds, which had been greedily pecking at the flesh of the deceased, began squabbling loudly, flapping their wings and squawking at each other. Alaric watched for a moment, then looked back to Ezran.
“A stronger power needs to come to the fore,” Ezran continued, his gaze locking with Alaric. “A power that others bend the knee to, that they will fear to tangle with, one that rules by might and example, not to mention fairness and law. Peace is a power that only resonates with strength. It is how the empire ruled.”
Alaric did not reply, but he knew what Ezran said was true.
“We swore ourselves into your service for a reason,” Thorne added with a glance at Ganister, who was patiently waiting. The escort was out of earshot. “We have never asked you to rebuild the Ordinate, not once. Nor will we.”
“But it is something you would like to see come to pass,” Alaric said. He held up a hand before either could speak. “I know what you both want, what you desire. It is no different than what Eld, Torrin, and Rikka expect of me.”
“We are content,” Ezran said.
“Really?” Alaric asked.
“The Ordinate will return when God wants it to,” Thorne said and glanced to Ezran. “I think we have both come to accept that reality.”
“We have,” Ezran said. “And if you don’t do it, perhaps one of your descendants will step forward to begin the restoration. By protecting you, we serve God and the empire. That is why we are content.”
Alaric shook his head slightly. He ran his gaze once more over the scene of destruction. His thoughts went to the wider war and how it would shake out in the end. Bramwell and Caxatarus flashed to mind. Did they know the war had started?
Seeking to provision, one of Bramwell’s ships had put in and anchored in the harbor. However, Bramwell and his other ships were elsewhere. Before he marched, Alaric had sent word to Smuggler’s Landing and the ship. Alaric suspected Bramwell had not needed notice from him and was already stirring the waters of conflict. The thought of it made him feel slightly better.
“How badly do you want to try to stop this sort of thing, my lord?” Thorne asked, waving a hand at the burned-out farmstead, his question slicing through the silence that had grown between them. Alaric turned in the saddle to face Thorne, his eyes searching the familiar features of his loyal servant. Like Ezran, he owed this man a great deal.
“Yes, that is a very good question,” Ezran chimed in, maneuvering his horse closer to Alaric’s side. “Or more appropriately, how much do you wish the killing lessened? That, I think, may be within power of achieving.”
“What you both are suggesting would result in even more bloodshed at first, additional suffering like this,” Alaric replied, his voice heavy with the weight of impending decisions, ones he most desperately wished not to make. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”
“Maybe,” Ezran said. “Maybe not.”
“I think it very likely,” Alaric said firmly, then caught movement back down the road. He turned in the saddle, the leather creaking. Eld was riding forward, rapidly overtaking the head of the column and closing the distance between them.
Thorne followed Alaric’s gaze toward the approaching rider. “The lines have already been drawn. More like him will come. Some will know why, and some may not. Eldanar will guide their steps, just as he has ours.”
“All that is needed is raising your banner and declaring to the world the emperor has returned,” Ezran added.
Alaric frowned as he looked back upon Ezran. “I thought you said you were content.”
“I am,” Ezran said with a shrug as Eld reached them. “I am very content.”
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“My lord,” Eld greeted solemnly, inclining his head, his gaze sweeping over the dead lying by the ruined farmhouse, the birds actively working and gorging themselves on the dead. The sight seemed to weigh on him, for he let go a heavy breath. His shoulders sagged slightly. “A bad business, this.”
“Yes, a very bad business,” Alaric acknowledged, his tone somber as he nudged his horse back into a slow walk. The van of the column was now a hundred yards away and closing fast. It was time to move on. Eld, along with Ezran and Thorne, matched his pace, their horses’ hooves thudding rhythmically against the packed dirt of the road. Ahead and without a word, Ganister started Alaric’s escort moving once more.
“This is a grim affair indeed,” Eld said, his eyes trailing on the burned farm. In moments, they were back in the forest, the farm and the stench of death receding behind them. “It’s the tenth place we’ve passed today that has been razed. I imagine much of Urburn has suffered a similar fate. The enemy are actively burning the earldom out, either killing or driving the people away.”
“The scouts are reporting as much,” Alaric confirmed, his expression grim. The reality of their situation was etched on his face, reflecting the destruction that had swept through this land like a plague, leaving sorrow and ash in its wake. He shook himself as if to shake away the memories of what he’d just seen and decided to get down to business. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I have spent much of the morning riding with your lumina, a fascinating woman. We talked much on God and faith.”
“I see.” Alaric wondered how that was related to him. Had she encouraged the knight to ride with him? Alaric did not know. He had left Rikka and Kiera earlier that morning when they passed a small church the enemy had torched. The structure had not fully burned down. Rikka, along with Father Ava, had wanted some time to meditate and pray… to commune with God.
“I enjoyed the conversation very much, but I thought I might ride with you for a time, my lord,” Eld responded, a hint of deference in his tone. “If that is agreeable?”
“It is,” Alaric affirmed. “Your company is welcome and provides a diversion from heavier thoughts.”
Silence fell between them as they continued their journey, the only sounds the steady clopping of their horses’ hooves, the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by a passing breeze, or the heavy chink of armor as one of them shifted in the saddle to get more comfortable. The day had dawned cool and remained nice, not too hot nor cold. It was a vast improvement over the previous day. Ahead, the road wound its serpentine and seemingly unending way through the forest.
Alaric finally broke the silence. “It is a tough world we live in. Unforgiving in the extreme.”
“Yes,” Eld agreed. “In a manner of speaking, this is all the result of the fall of the empire.”
Alaric considered that for a long moment, then gave a nod. “We live in a world left behind by giants.”
“That is an interesting way to put it,” Eld said, glancing over. “I suppose you are correct, for we live in the shadow of a once great and mighty people.”
“If the empire was so strong, so powerful, why did it fall?” Thorne asked from behind. “From our conversations, I know you are well-read, Sir Eld, so perhaps you might know the answer, the real answer. It is one I have often wondered on, for the empire covered much of the known world and took it by force. I have heard what the priests have said, that mankind turned away from the gods, sinned, and was punished. But is that what really happened?”
“It is partially correct. From what I understand, things, over time, became too soft for the Ordinate,” Eld said. “Too easy.”
“Soft, how?” Alaric asked, curious.
“Perhaps comfortable would be a better word—to the point where they were unwilling to sacrifice for all they had.”
Alaric glanced over at the knight, his expression a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
“Oh yes,” Eld continued, having caught Alaric’s look. “The ancient historians who lived during the last days of the empire wrote on it extensively, the decay of their society. I have read much on the subject, trying to puzzle it out myself, and that is what I have come up with as an explanation.”
“Who?” Alaric asked, his interest piqued even further now. “Which historians?”
“Icarius and Centala,” Eld responded. “Copies of their works survived. I first came across them during my research on the last days of the empire. Have you by chance read either, my lord?”
“I have not,” Alaric admitted. Were there copies of these historians’ works in his own library? Alaric made a mental note to search for them when he returned home. There might be something to learn in their writings, something to guard against.
“A pity,” Eld said, shaking his head slightly as he glanced up at the tree canopy that draped heavily over the road and shielded them from much of the sunlight, giving the world around them a twilight feel. “Those books were in the Library of Sersia. They were good reads. I learned a great deal.”
“The Cardinal King’s holy capital?” Alaric queried. He knew of the library but had never visited it. At the time, there hadn’t been a need. Alaric had been focused on other things.
“One of Sunara’s cities now,” Eld corrected gently.
Alaric gave a nod. “What do you mean by too comfortable?”
Eld elaborated, “Well, as they grew prosperous, they became complacent, decadent even. People, at least those in power, the nobility and middle class, started taking their safety and wealth for granted, that things could not and would not change.”
Alaric guided Maggie around a large tree limb that had fallen in the middle of the road. The leaves, still attached, had long since turned brown. He knew it would be moved out of the way as the army reached it.
“Over the centuries,” Eld continued, “they lost the strength of will that was needed to safeguard the empire in harsher times.” The knight was silent for a prolonged moment as they continued to ride. He sucked in a breath. “The great families of the empire and those who had means stopped sending their children to serve, to bleed and die—to fight for what they had.”
“Really?” Thorne said.
“Living well and the acquisition of things became the focus, rather than holding on to what they had—protecting the empire and upholding the ideals upon which it had been founded.”
“They lost sight of what was important,” Ezran interjected from behind, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction.
Eld glanced back at the former ash man. For a moment, there was a hardening in his gaze as he regarded Ezran. Then it softened ever so slightly.
“That is one way to look at it,” Eld acknowledged and turned back to watch the road before his horse as they clopped onward. “Centala saw it as a rot from within, a turning point from which there was no going back. He argued that as people looked away from their gods and their religions… they worshiped instead the acquisition of material wealth more than they revered their divine souls, the holiness within, the divine spark that resides in all of us. They became decadent, hedonistic, engaging in practices that were banned by the church and God. Even the emperors themselves were guilty of such behavior. The words they spoke on faith became nothing more than hot air.”
“And Icarius?” Thorne inquired, clearly eager to understand the historian’s perspective. “What did he think?”
“He thought it a rot as well,” Eld replied, his voice taking on a reflective tone. “But his analysis focused on the general population’s ignorance of all they had, all the good that came from the Ordinate. They turned their backs on their ancestors, looked down upon them as ignorant and backward—the very shoulders upon which they stood, the very people who made the empire what it was, the most powerful nation our world has ever seen.” Eld paused to suck in a breath. “Instead of honoring the state and contributing to its welfare, they were selfish in the extreme, demanding what the state could do for them, what they could get out of it, what they could take for themselves. In the end, that tore the heart out of the empire. It is why the gods struck, punishing all, sundering things, and burning and scorching the holy land, the heart of the Ordinate.”
Alaric nodded thoughtfully as he absorbed Eld’s explanation. Although he was not extensively knowledgeable about the last days of the Ordinate, the discussion intrigued him deeply. He found it difficult to imagine not defending what was rightfully his, Dekar, nor honoring one’s ancestors.
However, he had also seen firsthand the corruption and intrigue at the Cardinal King’s court. Those in positions of power had strayed from their sacred duties, opting instead to pursue personal wealth, leaving their principles, their faith, and the holy mission God had set for them behind everything else.
“I have seen the truth of what you speak, the reality of it,” Alaric said, his voice tinged with experience, which promptly drew Eld’s attentive gaze. “In the Cardinal King’s court, I witnessed it plain enough, the rot.”
“There were many in that court who proclaimed their faith loudly, yet followed another religion,” Eld responded, his tone laced with disdain. “Greed.”
They rounded a bend. Just ahead, on the side of the road, Jasper stood waiting. Beyond the man, Ganister had halted Alaric’s escort. Sensing something was up, Alaric quickened the pace of his horse to a trot and rode up to meet his chief scout. The others followed suit, drawing their horses to a stop beside him. Jasper bowed his head respectfully.
“What do you have to report?” Alaric asked.
“There is a small village just up the road, my lord,” Jasper reported, his voice grave. “It is ugly. The civilians were rounded up and executed. Many were locked within the local church and burned.”
Eld sat up straighter at that. Alaric looked up the road, seeing only the forest that stretched ahead. About a quarter mile away, the road took yet another turn, hiding what lay beyond.
“Anyone who escaped the madness fled and is long gone. The enemy bound those prisoners that were not burned alive, lined them up, and cut their throats. As the army marches, they will see it plain enough, for the road passes directly through the center of the village.”
Alaric gave an unhappy nod, absorbing the harsh reality of Jasper’s report. The brutality of the act and its impact on his troops weighed heavily on his mind. Such sights could stir anger and a thirst for vengeance among his men. At the same time, it might also inspire fear, for that was surely the enemy’s intent, sowing terror.
“The womenfolk were raped, with many showing signs of torture,” Jasper added, his voice dropping lower, heavy with the weight of the news. “Even the children were not spared. The men who did this were monsters, my lord. It is bad.”
Alaric grimaced, for, like him, he knew Jasper had seen a lot during the Crusade. If he said it was bad, then it was likely worse. “Were they afoot or mounted?”
“Mounted soldiers, my lord,” Jasper continued. “We have seen evidence of cavalry in the area, several hundred horse, at the very least. They had wagons and carts with them as well… for loot. They moved off to the east.”
“Any idea on how long ago this happened?” Alaric asked, his mind racing through the tactical implications and how it might affect his decisions in the coming hours.
“No more than four days at best,” Jasper replied promptly.
Alaric felt some relief at that, and calculated the potential movements of the enemy. They had likely moved on from the immediate vicinity, or at least he hoped so. It made no sense for them to linger, especially if they were foraging and taking everything they could.
Alaric ran his gaze over the forest that crowded the road. If it came to a fight here, amongst the trees, mounted soldiers would be at a significant disadvantage. However, the enemy could easily discover his army and then report their presence to their king.
That was the real threat.
Alaric gestured behind him at the column, which was even now rounding the bend. “Find Duncan and report what you saw. Make sure you tell him I want the men to hear what was done in Averndale’s name. He is to spread the word. Also, have him make certain they know prisoners are not being taken and that, if not stopped, what was done here will be done in Dekar. He is to tell the men that you spoke with a survivor—that this village surrendered, and the enemy still put everyone to the sword.”
“But we don’t know that, my lord,” Jasper protested. “And I did not speak with a survivor. I have not encountered one. I believe the village was caught wholly by surprise—that the enemy dismounted and went in on foot from all directions so none could escape. My boys and I found picket lines off the road and out in the forest around the town.”
Alaric hardened his tone. “I want the men believing what I just told you to report, understand me?”
“Aye, my lord. I do,” Jasper confirmed, his tone resolute. “As you command, I will pass it on to Duncan.”
“Do you have anything else to report?”
“No, my lord.”
“Good work,” Alaric said. “Report to Duncan immediately.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Jasper took a step off to the side for Alaric to continue on his way.
Alaric looked over at Eld and nudged his horse forward, guiding the animal past Jasper. “Let us go see this village. We will bear witness to what was done. Perhaps we might even spare a few moments to pray for the souls of the departed.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Eld fell in beside Alaric once again, maintaining pace with a thoughtful expression. After a few moments, he glanced over, his curiosity evident in his expression. “Why did you want your men to hear what happened when they will march past the village in full sight? Why instruct your man to point out that prisoners aren’t being taken? That is obvious, is it not? Also, why tell them the village surrendered first, when you know that’s not what occurred?”
Alaric glanced over at Eld. The man was a knight, educated and in service to his god. Some would call him a religious fanatic. Though he was an experienced warrior who’d come with men-at-arms, he was not a leader, one who was responsible for an army and what was to come in the days and weeks ahead.
“He seeks to harden the men’s hearts,” Thorne interjected from behind. His voice was steady, conveying an understanding of the harsh necessities of war. “After all they’ve seen today and what they will no doubt witness in the village, they will believe it when it’s passed along and fight harder because of it. Knowing prisoners are not being taken will see them sell their lives dearly, rather than surrender or give up the fight when things get difficult, when confronted by the enemy in a line of battle. He is giving the men motivation and reinforcing what should be obvious but may not be to a young soldier, one who has yet to cut his teeth, one who has never faced or stood firm amidst the terror, not to mention the enemy, in a line of battle. It is better to stand and fight than run and be caught by an enemy who kills indiscriminately.”
“Is that true?” Eld turned back to Alaric, seeking confirmation.
“That and more,” Alaric admitted, his voice resolute. “I am taking a mostly unblooded force into battle. I will cheat, steal, and take whatever advantage my enemy gives me and use it against him. Sir knight, in war, there are no rules but those we make for ourselves.”
Eld was silent for several moments, clearly processing Alaric’s words and the gravity of their implications. “You are a hard man. But I think this world needs hard leaders, especially after seeing what we have this day.”
“Those who show weakness do not last long.” Alaric’s thoughts slid back to the burned-out farms, the dead civilians. He considered the conversation they’d just had about the end of the Ordinate. King Thorold of Averndale might profess to worship and follow the teachings of Eldanar, but his actions spoke otherwise. “You think I am a hard and difficult man? No, I am worse than that. I am ruthless. I will show my enemies no weakness. For what they have done, I will show them even less mercy.”