I look at Reagan and a sense of unease washes over me. His calm and measured expression fit for a veteran of many battles changes into something more… primal. More dangerous as his eyes go from a mix of brown and red to practically shining red. Like fury made manifest. As his second, I'm not sure what to do, but I know I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that stare. I follow his gaze and notice a kind of priest being escorted by the regiment of knights.

Is that the reason for Reagan’s hatred? I’m not sure and it doesn’t matter. I understand hatred, but mine is not hot like his. Mine is cold from my years of suffering as a slave, serving as a tool for this Empire built on our suffering. Cold and unending as I will see their fall or die trying. We all know and understand Reagan is using us to some degree to exact his own vengeance, and we welcome it. I know more than one of us didn’t think twice about his proposal. And why should we have? What else do we have in this life? We have no family, no life to get back to for the majority, nothing to live for.

That was probably why the vast majority chose to follow him. He gave us a goal we could get behind. Something to live for. It is almost funny that it stemmed from our shared suffering at the hands of the Empire, almost. I stop my musings and bring my attention back to the present as the convoy is finally in the middle of our ambush. Like everyone else I wait for the signal only to notice that Reagan isn’t by my side any longer. I turn to see Rannulf and Garr only to see their own surprised expressions as they notice our leader's absence.

A commotion breaks out as the convoy halts to a stop and my eyes open wide as I see Reagan all alone in the middle of the road, barring their passage. A sick smile is on his face as I no doubt imagine how he is going to tear them limb from limb and I hesitate to call out the attack. I decide to wait for a bit as Reagan is supposed to give the signal, only he seems to have forgotten all about it, unless this is his plan? In the end I decide to wait a moment longer to see how this plays out, unsure if I’m reading the situation correctly.

“Company. Halt!” One of the knights yell as they come to a stop. I have a hard time hearing the rest of it as it isn’t yelled for everyone to hear but it’s clear they are asking him to move out of the way, and his response seems to displease them. One of them makes spittle fly as he responds to whatever Reagan said while drawing his sword, clearly threatening him.

I can’t help but almost charge then and there. I know Reagan is strong, stronger than most of us, but against that many knights? We can’t just leave him to die, but something tells me not to go. I frown as I listen to something I haven’t for all my life. My instincts. They are screaming at me to stay away. It takes me a moment to realize they are screaming at me to stay away from Reagan and not the knights. My gaze focuses on him as he finally draws his two long swords. It’s strange as I can almost smell the familiar scent of blood already, but the fighting has yet to break out.

Some of the knights charge at Reagan and I can’t stand back and leave him alone against so many. I sound out the charge and they stop for a moment as we all come out of the forest all around them, screaming our lungs out. One of them yells out ‘Ambush’ like anyone might actually miss it. However, because of our numbers, we couldn’t hide very close to the road which means we are rather far away now. I’m not sure we will make it in time.

The leader of the knights seems to understand exactly the same thing and he orders his men to charge the lone man before we can help him. I pump my muscular legs a bit more as I hope Reagan will manage while we catch up, but to my surprise my fear is unwarranted. The first row of knights split in half as a red wave comes out of one of his swords. Blood and entrails fly everywhere as the remaining knights start to panic at the wanton slaughter before their eyes.

“Monster!” One of them yells and my surprise is soon replaced by a feral grin as I rush in to join the slaughter. I’m truly impressed as I see Reagan fight three to four knights at a time, taking one down every few exchanges. Nothing as brutal as his opening attack but it is clear he is far superior to them in terms of speed, skill and strength. I make sure to stay far away from any of the red energy that sometimes comes out in a slash here and there, listening to my instincts to avoid them at all costs. It is mostly useless as Reagan clearly knows what he is doing and no attack ever comes close to one of our own as we descend upon them like a pack of rabid dogs.

The fight is over all too quickly as we overwhelm them with numbers from all sides. Soon only a handful are left alive, standing around the red robed figure in the center. Why they are still alive is instantly clear as a red transparent shield surrounds them. I see a few others try and prod the red bubble and get cast back violently as they try to pierce the protective spell. It looks strangely similar to Reagan’s own energy and I can’t help but feel unnerved by it.

The others part as Reagan slowly makes his way forward, walking over the corpses of the freshly slain knights.

“Ah, Reagan, pleasure to see you again.” The old priest in a red robe says with a long drawl. Reagan doesn’t respond as he studies the shield and slowly walks around it, careful not to touch it, an angry expression on his face.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man adds with a condescending tone, like he is talking to a stupid child.

“Your head.” Is all that Reagan says and the old sack of bones looks surprised for a second before he throws his head back in a mocking laugh.

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“You are angry at me?” He taunts the dangerous man stalking around him. Reagan doesn’t respond but prods the shield with his sword only to be rebuffed like the others. His frown deepens as he continues to stalk around his prey.

“Are you slow? You took what was supposed to be ours, and now you are angry at me? Have you looked at yourself? At the power you now wield?” The man asks with what sounds like genuine disbelief. Reagan doesn’t respond at first as he continues to poke and prod the shield. In the end he cannot help but open his mouth to respond to the strange priest.

“My whole company died because of you. Some even by their own hands.” Horror seeps through his face as he recalls something and I can’t help but be drawn in, the thick despair so familiar it resonates with me. I don’t need to know more to understand that the man in red must die.

“Suffering for a price my friend, and what a price.” The old priest grins cruelly.

Reagan concentrates and his sword seems to be coated in the strange red energy. He plunges it into the shield . He struggles to keep it in as it slowly makes it way through. Once half the sword is in he slowly draws it into an upward slash, his muscles trembles from the effort. The shield holds but a large gap like a wound stays where Reagan cut it. The old man frowns for the first time.

“Look at you, at your power. What is a little suffering for this gift you have received.” He scoffs. Reagan is about to walk confidently through the gap when the old man starts chanting in a guttural language that is hurting my brain. The words are so wrong I want to make him stop, I need to make him stop, but I cannot for I must cover my ears for even the chance of making the pain a bit easier to withstand. The effect on Reagan however is many times worse as he screams loudly in pain as he holds his head between his hands. The old man’s chant gains in volume and I charge and cut at the shield in vain, all in hopes of making it through and making him stop. The pain of being repelled is nothing in contrast to the throbbing in my head.

A laugh erupts and the priest stops his chanting as we all turn to the source. There, Reagan stands, but everything about him feels… off. His sturdy posture and strong stance are now mocking and relaxed. It feels wrong somehow. When he opens his mouth I’m sure I must be dreaming because I cannot believe this man is the man we decided to follow on that fateful night.

“You shouldn’t have pushed him so.” The things wearing Reagan’s skin tell the old man with contempt and mocking so unlike the man we have come to admire.

“_______, it is an honor.” He tells him but the first name is impossible for me to even understand or register properly. The change in attitude in the old man is jarring.

“Tibald.” Regan turns to me and I don’t manage to hold eye contact with him for more than a moment before I look away, afraid of what it will do to me.

“Take everyone away from here.” He asks me and I’m confused for a moment. I hesitate as I look around.

“NOW!” He yells at me and a yelp escapes me despite my best efforts. The others don’t need anything else to start scattering as we all feel the strange energies mounting, our instincts screaming at us to leave. The few knights still surrounding the old man seem transfixed or terrified beyond belief. I run away a safe distance but can’t help but look on from a distance.

They continue to talk for a bit but it’s clear they intend to clash, and clash they do. Reagan swings first and the protective shield pops like the most fragile thing in the world as he swings with both his swords. The poor knights that were still there are all shredded to pieces as I try to see where the old man is.

I gape as I see him hovering in the air above Reagan, clearly concentrated and chanting. He slowly brings out something I have a hard time seeing from so far but soon after red lightning strikes where Reagan is. As the blinding flash leaves and my vision returns I see nothing but a black mark on the ground where it struck and no Reagan in sight.

A figure jumps out of the forest with enough force to fly up at the old hovering man who clearly wasn’t expecting it. Reagan almost cuts him in half before another lightning strikes him in his chest and he plummets down to the ground. Reagan somehow gets up and sends a few waves of red energy at the man floating up there who tries to dodge them. He is clearly having a hard time as he tries to create more and more distance between the two of them.

Of course Reagan chases after him and I follow after them, weaving between the trees. I almost miss them a bit further down the road as they are both standing a distance away from each other and talking. I catch only the end of a sentence.

“— give you a real vessel.” The old man tells him but Reagan only grins at him.

“Like you did with them?” He scoffs as he points at a strange object the priest is holding.

“This only works because they are weak. You know that would never work for you. No, a real vessel, a strong human.” The old man is clearly trying to convince him of something.

“They are weak, that much is true. But then again, so are you.” Reagan answers before disappearing from my sight. A red shield, far thicker than the first one, instantly appears around the priest as a blur slams into it repeatedly again and again accompanied by the strangest sound. It takes me a moment before I understand what it truly is. Laughter, but an unnatural one.

Cracks start to form on the shield and even I can see that the priest is struggling in the distance. Reagan is a whirlwind of violence and I know it won’t take long now before the priest dies. I remember where I know that energy from and it’s the same one that was contained in our collars, albeit on a far smaller scale to what is being displayed here. What concerns me is that Reagan seems to be wielding a similar power, but that can wait. I don’t know how I can be so sure, but I feel it in my bones. That man is the one who devised the collars for us and he must die.

“You will regret making an enemy out of me.” The priest croaks as energy forms around him. Reagan backs off a bit as he looks at him.

“A coward and a weakling. Until we meet again, for it will be the last time.” He tells the man and I don’t understand until the priest is engulfed in red energy. As the flash subsides I only see Reagan standing there with no one in front of him.

As I hesitantly get closer I see him collapse on the road.