The winding entrance of Castle Brand was no mistake, much less an oversight in basic architecture. The moat around it also didn’t have telltale signs of human interference, seamlessly merging with nature through a complex system of rivers and streams for miles beyond the horizon. Amongst the commoners outside, only the cynicism of the elderly knew the truth compared to the skepticism of the young—not that they needed to tell them that day.
A commotion within Castle Brand’s supposedly impenetrable walls had roared at the guards with steel-hard scales and flippers modified for land. Through the eyes of an insignificant human, the «Leatherhead Catfish» was a galloping nightmare that devoured villages for an afternoon snack. Its maw opened with the noise of a snapped tree in a storm, giving a watchtower a taste test before it crumbled to dust, no different from their resolve to fight back.
Their hands trembled as the ground did. That was all they could do once the monstrosity discovered that their flesh could substitute its diet of adult «River Whales» not too far from the so-called “moat” it had leaped out of like a hare on cocaine. If morale wasn’t a naive fairytale before, witnessing three more of their comrades down its gullet was the final straw, resulting in their weapons clanging repeatedly on the ground.
“Don’t waver, you lot!” said a man closest to the ongoing carnage, still holding on to his spear with a tight grip. “We didn’t become treaders just to throw in the towel when faced with a real threat, but I assure you that this is far from our downfall. The best among us are fighting much worse things as we know it. To turn and run now would make a complete mockery of their spirit!”
“Yeah!” cried the guards in unison, raising the one thing they dropped with every ounce of cowardice only moments ago. Not having the luxury of the unique «Essence» skill since birth didn’t matter much in the heat of battle.
The catfish turned its attention to the remaining guards, its teeth soaked in a mixture of frothing spit and what was left of the victims like a crimson waterfall of mindless violence, the stench of iron permeating the air. Although incapable of a mighty roar, its speed betrayed its hefty physique, covering more ground than their imagination could comprehend.
Despite the odds stacked against them, the guards chanted their bravery again with a decisive charge, hoping to skewer the creature until it bled an equal amount of the lives it took so soon. Alas, the thing about steel-hard scales was that the game had no intention of describing it otherwise. Having a spear or not, their plan was as impossible as that word could ever be.
With another careless sacrifice to the catfish’s daily intake, what would’ve been their wondrous moment of turning the tides became another naive fairytale, but it wasn’t over. They stood. They stood because that was all they could do until any divine intervention would come sweeping down like an angel in disguise. Fortunately, the answer proved better than the prayer.
In the blink of an eye, their semi-aquatic adversary experienced the excruciating agony of being close to a metal rod during a thunderstorm, stunned to its core like a charred statue. Many bleated in excitement about the new warrior of light shrouded in rumors across town, but what they witnessed instead was a familiar discrepancy. Just as the catfish got up with a limp, their caped savior delivered an arching slash to one of its gills from behind.
Eventually, its other gill suffered the same fate, gushing the same color as the iron-rich meal it had enjoyed. The ground trembled again as the light in its bulging eyes faded to a lifeless stare at the sun. Frankly, only one man at Castle Brand could perform such an attack without any more flare, and he didn’t like to brag compared to the rumors.
“All fish have the same weakness,” said Zuriel, accomplishing his duty as a loyal lieutenant with his famed longsword with the words «Rushing Bull» engraved near the tip. “We can’t always rely on Theo whenever we feel like it because, as you know, I’m still alive. I hereby dismiss you all for the day. Conserve your strength for what’s to come!”
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The guards gave an ample round of cheers in his name and made good on his order without question. Then again, only a fool among fools would go against the generosity not seen since King Albert’s time, and that was too many winters ago. His successor didn’t fare well either, especially on the healthy side of life, but Zuriel wasn’t here to remember a childhood full of rumbling stomachs almost every night. He was here to serve a worthy leader.
Sheathing his blade, Zuriel made his way through the only grand staircase in the palace. It didn’t take long for him to have an excellent view of the city below, shrinking in scope with each step. On the opposite side, the vast and encompassing Hand of the White Maiden stood tall with its own blade, perpetuating an aura no less consequential than a mountain blocking the morning light.
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The atmosphere inside the primary tower seemed reluctant to change its hard-pressed tone, as though the world would become a wasteland through the coming years. Every hallway and corridor Zuriel had passed by carried the sound of boots going back and forth, along with conversations about the unknowable future. Yet, he couldn’t blame them for a second, even if it meant wishing for a slight peace of mind.
He had no clue when Swordland began suffering an otherworldly turmoil, but his memories didn’t lie about its overwhelming resilience. Suddenly, they had new slimes that could level forests, new goblins that could send out tsunamis, and new orcs that could end nations. Even if they solved the mystery that had struck them many years prior, it still forced his heart to overdrive the more he dwelled on the possibilities.
Despite his worries, Zuriel entered the council chamber with newfound confidence. The committee returned the feeling with a lengthy bow at his presence, even as he took his literal right-hand seat. It would’ve been enough to give them a sense of relief if not for the fact that their beloved general decided to be a no-show for the third day.
“Where is Theo?” asked a committee member. “Wasn’t he with you last night? If he’s trying to negotiate a truce with Novus again, we’ll have to take matters into our own hands.”
He sighed, eyes closed, frustrated that their trust in the man who kept their lands safe like no other had waned closer to despair. Still, he couldn’t blame them. “I wouldn’t fret on such matters if I were you. Wherever he is, I bet he’s teaching those beasts a lesson. I suggest we plan our next attack without causing any more needless casualties. As you know, I’m still alive.”
“Yes, yes. We hear that from you plenty, but please forgive me for saying this: bringing up some of your past and applying it to others in the fight won’t solve anything. We’ve done enough meandering here because you encouraged many of our best to take a break. Like, why should the Brazen Couple be on the sidelines today?”
“Because the blood they would shed is worth more than a hundred more rookies at our disposal. I’ll gladly send Haruto and Tokiwa into the fray again, but only in time. Swordland will persevere, and if I’m proven wrong due to my decisions, you can start lighting your torches.”
The committee gasped halfway through Zuriel’s explanation, exchanging bewildered glances at how far he could downplay one of their most valuable assets. He had his reasons, but admittedly, the situation might’ve painted him as a selfish lieutenant with no qualms about continuing the meat grinder of meaningless sacrifice in numbers. Proving them otherwise wouldn’t help much in the long run, either.
“So what if I brought up my past?” he retorted with a slightly furrowed brow. “What if I bring up what happened to our last general, who did everything himself until those things got to him? We became powerless, leaderless, and most of all, hopeless.”
“Zuriel, this still isn’t about you,” said another member on the opposite ear. “And what about this Hajime we’ve been hearing lately? We don’t trust him as much as you do since he shouldn’t even have the power of lightning when you’re here, but he could still be useful if he’s anything like that woman from another realm. Why can’t you see that? We must be pragmatic with our—”
Without warning, Zuriel gave the entire committee a remarkable freight from their chairs. A surge of electricity had traveled from his hands and into the table, begotten of his soul-staring glare like an enraged deity ready to bring judgment to all who belittled him. But it wasn’t enough to turn anyone into a ball of ash, let alone harm a single strand of hair.
He stood from his seat before returning their bow at double the time. “I’m very sorry, everyone. That was only for show. Please excuse me.”
The council fell silent, his footsteps echoing at a semi-sluggish pace upon heading toward the exit. It was enough for him to engage in a few minutes of his “favorite pastime,” or, more accurately, it was a trip down nightmare lane within a bronze locket. It showed no relatives to grieve about nor a face to talk about. All it had was a dog tag on each photo.
I still haven’t learned my lesson, have I, Ryan? And you, Omar, how would you feel if I threw myself out there again? Will you hate me? Will you?