I awoke with a start, body in a cold sweat fearing Master Holom's angered roar that I had overslept. But when the crust fell from my weary eyes all I could see was the bright blue sky and an empty plot of land next to me where his bed roll would have been. It took a moment every morning for me to realize he was gone. Taken. All because of some coward!

What got to me the most. What pissed me off every time I thought about it was how he died, not that he died. Not in a pitched battle. Not against some horrifying monstrosity. No, he was killed by a coward who wanted power. That's what got to me.

As I wondered to the nearby stream to wash my face the reality of it began to strike me. I should be sad. I was sad. But all in all we were Slayers. We died left and right. It was the truth of our pitiful reality. To be used and thrown aside. I guess in some ways Master Holom filled that role spectacularly. The Ruined Powers had him now. Far as anyone knows, he's dead or at least never coming back. That didn't mean I couldn't look for answers. I already had a thread to pull. I wanted to see how far it goes.

The water reflected my face, sharp and youthful, hair tight to the scalp. It had been a week since my last haircut, shortly before Councilman Collifer's request came in. I could hardly believe it had been a week. Cupping the stream's murky water into my hand I let the water slip through my fingers wetting the skin then proceeded to wipe my face off. Then stared intently back into the rippling water.

One week. This whole ordeal had already taken a week of my life. Nearly four days alone to traverse the land between Iory and Cravenholm though had I horse this could have been done in a day. But the city's spire peaking over the horizon told me I was close. Honestly I could have made it by nightfall the previous day but I considered it wiser to enter the city on a fresh day. It gave me the chance to scan the surroundings. Which was to say; useless. Utterly useless.

Few farms dotted the plains around the city, not that I expected there to even be any. I was more shocked to see some still fighting to raise crops. The plains surrounding Cravenholm had become thick with water and disease turning it into a sickly wetland permeated by corpses and dead trees, crows fluttering about not in search of food or shelter but to mock the citizens who desperately toiled the fields that could never raise crops again. Save for a few.

I had camped next to one such plot of land. Not yet so far gone as to be useless but it wasn't as if the difference were night and day. Certainly not like a green patch of land next to blighted acres. Nothing of the sort. It was simply less gray then the rest with a few more trees and some sickly berry bushes. Worst of all judging by the look of approaching soldiers to the man's single run down cottage the farmer was about to have a worse week than I was.

Of the two soldiers one stepped forward to pound the back of his armored gauntlet on the farmer's door. I couldn't help but see a bit of Djerik in the man, if only for the clothes.

'Hagsby! Open up!' The soldier ordered with a stern voice. It was deep like drums with a bit of a grumble like he'd smoked since before he left his mother's womb. That's where his similarities with Djerik stopped.

'I'm coming! I'm coming!' Cried an old, weathered and agitated voice that upon seeing the farmer open his front door I could understand his worries. Tall and thin, a white beard that was thick with mud and fingers black from the topsoil he fervently serviced this was a hard working man.

Then I saw his strong, edged eyes grow weak in despair upon seeing the soldiers at his doorstep.

'No....no..no.no...' The old farmer “Hagsby” cried.

'I'm sorry, Simone. You know the deal.' The soldier stated grimly, his voice almost reluctant to speak the words.

'No, Benjamin. Please don't. I've barely enough to feed myself!' The old man hollered as the second soldier stormed by his meager resistance. 'Damn you Carter, have you no soul!' He shouted at the man's back, the one named Benjamin hanging back with a hung head.

'Of course I do!' Shouted Carter from within the cottage. I could hear the faint sound of wood and metal crashing to the ground. The soldier almost ransacked the poor old man's house.

'You know what Lord Collifer decreed. All provisions large or small must be summed then dealt out equally to all citizens of Cravenholm. Regardless of rank or status.' I heard this Carter character shout aloud almost telling himself what he was doing was right.

'But I haven't got any food left!' Hagsby cried out. Through the window I spotted him trying to pull the soldier away from his search but his feeble arms could not overpower Carter's younger body even though they both appeared to be suffering from starvation.

Then I heard planks snapping and saw Carter's eyes light up like a miner finding gold having already lost hope to ever find that lustrous metal again. From somewhere beneath the cottage he pulled up a small sack. Barely much larger than my rolled up bedroll that was only about the size of my forearm. In a rush Carter darted outside beyond the old man's grasp.

'No, my food!' Hagsby shouted after him but Benjamin blocked the door.

'I'm sorry, Simone. This is where we're at now.' The soldier hung his head low in shame, the farmer smacking his leather chest piece with a weak hand.

'Nonsense! Bully an old man for his food! Is this what our society has come to?' He roared in anger but his weak body could never hope to back up that powerful voice. Maybe at one point in the past but now he was a shadow of whatever he once was.

'It is as the Lord dictates!' Benjamin counter argued.

'Fuck the Lord! Were I still a soldier I'd whip his rear end!'

'But you're not anymore, are you. Just don't' cause a ruckus, Simone. Please....' The soldier pleaded as Carter shied away to count their find. I couldn't see what was in the sack only that it overjoyed him greatly.

'Oh, I'll cause a ruckus. I'll cause a damn fine ruckus. Set the damn stables on fire I will. Eat the damn horses, I will. Barbecue up them sickly bastards. Taste better than that filth there.' The farmer pointed out the sack with a trembling finger.

'Just don't do anything stupid, Simone, for Emma.' Benjamin backed away then turned to join his companion who almost left without him.

'Henry would roll in his grave to see what you've become Benji!' The farmer sneered at his back. I could see the soldier visibly wince but do his best to maintain stride as he disappeared in the further reaches of the field, heading towards Cravenholm's walls.

I picked up my things noticing that the old farmer eyed me.

'Yes?' I asked but the old man wasn't having any of it. He turned and walked back into the cottage.

Staring at the two soldiers growing smaller in the distance I wondered if maybe I should have stopped them. It certainly wasn't my place nor my job. Add in the fact I was only there to tell House Collifer their Lord and sole heir were dead and I was already not going to be a welcome face.

Out of curiosity I found myself at the man's door, still open I knocked on it's face leaning in just enough to see the small home's entirety. Old bed in the far corner, a cast iron stove at it's foot and a table with four chairs around it between me and it.

'Hello?' I called out to the old farmer. No answer. I stepped into looking around only to spot the man in the corner behind the corner, rocking back and forth on an ancient rocking chair.

'Who are you?' He asked. 'Come to take what ain't yours? Well get in line.'

'Not at all Sir. Call me curious but I wanted to see what that was all about.'

'I'll call you shithead. Now who the fuck-,' He turned about to fully face me eyeing my trimmed leather armor and the sword at my hip, it's pommel and guard far more ornate than any commoners could afford. 'Just who the fuck are you?'

'Well, aren't we just cheery?' I snidely commented. Really, what place did I have to be rude? I had just watched as this man's food was stolen then waltzed into his home uninvited.

'You would be too if your Lord was a blubbering cunt.....that damn fool. Runs off to let us all die. I work hard to grow these meager crops. Barely enough to last and they take it. No help, no trade just take and take and take like fucking parasites.' He eyed me again, something clicking in that wrinkled old head of his, stray white hairs poking out of a nearly bald scalp. 'You? You're not a man of House Collifer, right?'

I lifted my arms as if to check myself over. 'I don't think I am.' If I was I most likely wouldn't have let Lord Collifer die.

'Don't get wise with me, youngster. I'll have you know I stood atop Cravenholm's walls sixty years ago leading men in it's valiant defense against House Sere's army.'

'Oh, a veteran of the Moss Quarry War. That was quite the feat. Two thousand defenders against a siege force of some fifteen thousand. Records say it was bitter fighting. That once the walls were breached House Collifer's soldiers fought until every last invader was dead. By some miracle you guys won.'

'Miracle? Hah! We fought till our shields splintered, our spears blunted and our swords dulled. Then we used our hands to strangle our enemies. Gods, it was a glorious day. Back then we had real spines. Fucking glass spines wouldn't know war if an army marched right up to their snot nosed faces and stabbed them in their gutless stomachs.'

'That's one way to put it....' I trailed off almost unnerved to see the man's eyes glisten with longing at such dreadful days. For if I remembered correctly that war was over the mishandled title of the Moss Quarry which was a simple iron mine. A bit of overreaction really but that wasn't my call to make.

Hagsby eyed me once more, his gnarled features softening, the wrinkles in his face lighting up. I almost thought the man smiled for a moment.

'You know of the Moss Quarry War. Maybe you ain't so bad. Alright, if you've got some metal to ya, I've got a request.'

'Request? I complete stranger walks uninvited into your house and you're going to ask him a favor? I could kill you and take all your belongings if I wanted.'

'But you're not. Cause I would be dead already. I did not doubt my abilities sixty years ago. I'm certainly not delusional now. You could take me blind. And if you've got half the spine I think you do then you're already four times the man of any other fuckwit in this land forsaken by the gods.'

'Well, I won't argue there.' Something told me he didn't notice I was a Slayer though another part told me that if he did, he generally just didn't care. 'But in terms of your request I do have other things I need to be doing.' Such as delivering the news, then returning to the Coven for my final trial to become a Slayer before tracking down leads on the strange circumstances surrounding Master Holom.

'Oh, shut it!' He bellowed. At this point I wasn't at all surprised by his hard edges, I almost expected it. 'I've lived long enough to see honest men and dishonest men just by the look in their eyes. I've killed enough of both to know the difference.'

'I'm not a good man.' I told him to which his eyebrow cocked.

'I said honest men not good me. They do not come packaged together ya fuckwit. An honest man can still be a killer he simply doesn't need to lie about it.'

'Fair enough.' I conceded.

'But you don't seem like a complete asshole. How about it? Hmmm. Help an old man out?'

'Fine...what is it?' I caved. It's not like I was in a total rush to deliver the news.

Hagsby smiled revealing a row of missing teeth. 'Just in front of the stove there's a creaky floorboard, pull it up.'

Sighing I walked over to the stove gently touching down my feet until one of the boards creaked. Looking back at the farmer he nodded.

'That's the one. Pull it up.'

Reaching down I prepared to pull the wooden plank up by it's raised corner.

'If I see a dead body I'm out.'

'I bury those in the marsh.' The old man cackled. A joke for sure but it didn't stop my spine from shivering. Slowly the board came loose and within a split second I was staring at a deep crevice underneath it, laying dead center was a gray sack as large as my torso.

'More food?' I looked up at the farmer.

'Yup....all planted, nurtured and plucked with these hands.'

'What do you want me to do with it?' I asked pulling the sack up by it's knot feeling the rough fabric dig away two layers of skin from my hands.

'You know how to use that sword?'

I nodded dragging the sack over the lip onto the cottage floor, smacking dirt of it's bottom with a limp hand.

'You're going to help me bring that into the city then. If they think it's yours, an outsider, those dick for brains won't be able to take it from you under Lord Collifer's decree. And if you have that sword maybe people will think twice before taking it by force.'

'Uh, sure. Why me? Couldn't you have gotten somebody else?'

'Weren't you listening?' The senile old coot shouted.

'Apparently not.' I audibly sighed.

'Hey if Lord Collifer hadn't taken my usual guy to do whatever the fuck he went to do then I wouldn't need to. It's not like I'm forcing you into this and it's a one time deal so man up fuckwit.'

'You know, it's a good thing I was taught to mind my elders....' I commented rather harshly.

'What? You want compensation? Gold? Fine, I got your gold. Stashed a little bit here and there! Just give me a second!' He yelled at me and for a moment until his whole body shook as he stood from the chair I had forgotten how feeble he was.

Removing a small box from a nearby shelf his trembling hands reached into it only to pull out a small velvet pouch. For some reason I had expected someone of his age to have saved more, his life having amounted to more than the few coins he poured onto the table. Something about it made my heart sink and that's when it really hit me.

This old man, once so strong and willful had been reduced to this old rotting being. A walking corpse that barely had the strength to move let alone tend to a farm all by himself. Not only that it pained me to watch him slowly count his paltry savings as if the very idea of numbers came to him a few seconds later than it should have. What made it worse was the sum total of the gold he had was barely more than enough to buy a handful of fruit at the market on a good day. My heart broke to watch him even try to exist.

'...Stop.... It's fine. I'll help. No need to pay me....' I watched his eyes turn from the hollow counting machine back into their fiery old selves.

'Suit yourself.' He put the thirteen coins back into his pouch, stuffed it in the box then deposited it back onto the shelf in a string of movements that took three times as long as somebody my age.

'Then where am I bringing this?' I asked him, throwing the heavy sack over my shoulder. It's weight wasn't much, at least not compared to my training. Though I guess it was beyond the man's strength to carry.

'Just follow me! And don't ask too many questions!' He hollered snatching a twine farmers hat with a comically large brim off a hook by the door, nestle it gently on his balding head then walked out expecting me to follow.

I felt the sack form to my shoulder, nestling up quite nicely against my back. Minus the weight it was actually quite comfortable. The distinct sound of cascading rice echoing in my ear.

'Rice? That's a lot of rice. How the fuck did he grow rice in this marsh?'

'Fuckwit! Are you coming?' Cried old man Hagsby from outside. I wasn't sure if I should be amused or annoyed with my little nickname. With a grin creeping across my face I walked out of the little cottage, sack on my back.

'Took you long enough! If I was as slow as you I'd be a dead man.' Hagsby righteously roared though his gait with little more than a snail's pace as I walked alongside him.

Flanking us as we walked along a thin dirt path, just enough for two men shoulder to shoulder, the raised land dipped into a culvert that spread across the fields, filled with water and disease. My eyes glimpsed the murky water seeping it's fingers deep into the soil. Rotting animal carcasses lay half-sunken into the land, their putrid bodies dissolving into the water leaving polished bone behind.

'What a sight, huh? The fields have become infested by disease and the water refuses to leave.' Hagsby spat onto the dirt path. 'Then that fool Lord takes his soldiers to go do fuck shit! We need farmers. Good hardy men, hundreds of them to work these fields into submission. We are it's master not the other way around!'

I gave him half a smile letting the old man sink into his delusions. There was no saving these decrepit lands. Only a miracle by the gods could save Cravenholm. Oddly enough that was exactly what Lord Collifer had tried to do. He just picked the wrong gods.

'Mr. Hagsby?' I said, the old crackpot gave me a strange look. 'Do you know why Lord Collifer left?'

'I thought I said no questions!' He hollered.

'Just...satisfy my curiosity.'

The old man sighed. 'No. No one but Lady Katharine and the soldiers he took knew what was going on. All we knew was that the young master had disappeared. That Lord Collifer would find him and save Cravenholm. Beyond that, well....we're as much in the dark as you are.'

'Ah, I see. You mentioned there was someone that helped you before. Who?'

'You sure are a nosy brat aren't you?' Hagsby sneered followed with a deep cough.

'Just who I am....'

'Ey, if you must know. His name was Aldwin. What a man. A true knight of knights. Could hold his own in battle with the best of them and Gods was he brilliant. Tactician like no other. Shame that Lord Collifer pulled him away from the castle.'

For a moment my heart stopped hearing that man's name. I hadn't known him long but from what I could tell on first impressions was he was not a kind man. Loyal, most certainly, but not deserving of the praise Hagsby laid upon him. I wondered if he would give him that same praise now that he's become a Knight of Ruin, sworn to the Old Powers to wreck havoc on our world. I audibly choked back my surprise.

Hagsby eyed my strange reaction.

'What? You know him?' He asked me sternly.

'Only briefly....He was...interesting...'

'He was a true man of Cravenholm. A knight like no other.'

'I'm sure he was.' I faked a smile recalling the fearful look in Aldwin's eyes as he realized what Lord Collifer had done. He had committed to the act but in the end before his soul was rotted and warped by ruined magic I saw for a moment a bit of regret. I will never forget that look of betrayal on his face nor the scared eyes of the Lord's son Maurice as his father slit his throat.

'Ah, you wouldn't know shit about men like him. Once he and the others return with the Lord maybe then we can rebuild Cravenholm.' Hagsby was strong willed, his opinion of his fellow country men ran strong and deep but the land began dying ten years ago. If it wasn't fixed by now, it never would be.

'Well let's hope they return soon then.' For some reason I didn't have the heart to tell him what happened. I would save that discussion for Lady Katharine. 'Question?'

'Enough with the questions, Fuckwit!' The farmer coughed violently. I almost feared he might die where he stood but the old man remained strong.

'Did you know a footman named Djerik?' I asked him thinking of that strange man I saved, half wondering how his travels were going.

'Djerik? Spell it!'

'Djerik. I believe the D is silent' I pointed out.

'Never heard of him. There are hundreds of soldiers. You expect me to know them all. Who the hell writes their name with a silent D. Absolutely ridiculous!'

'It's common in the western fjords.'

'Well this isn't the western fjords! This is Cravenholm! We adhere to the Faith and to the King! We've never been asked of more!'

'I got you. I got you.' I felt the rice in the sack tumble about as I re-positioned it on my shoulder to better suit it's weight.

'Too heavy for you?' Hagsby mocked.

'No, if anything it feels light.'

'Mmmhmm.' The old man hummed at me. 'Enough talking! Let me enjoy the sights.....'

The old farmer trailed off into his own thoughts. I couldn't help but feel the need to sarcastically remark on the sights of Cravenholm and it's dead lands bubble up inside me. But when I caught a glimpse of the pride in his eyes that need vanished.

I knew then that he did not see the swamps, the marsh, the dead animals planted lazily half sunken in the water. The hue of sickly green breathed into the air by this unfathomably large bog. Nor did he see the ruined homes of farms that once thrived.

No, this old man either by choice or dementia saw green fields like what he roamed as a boy. He saw the trains of merchants flocking to Cravenholm's flourishing market. The farms alive with waves of golden corn and row upon row of orchards. From the city's once pristine walls it might have appeared to the watchmen as a painter having tossed his paints about randomly on a canvas. It must have been beautiful once. Once but never again.

I scarcely noticed the wall begin to overshadow us. I say wall but really it's vast turrets had crumbled into pillars of cobbled stone, the gateway itself had lost it's arch long ago, collapsing under the weight of neglect. Whatever remained of the original walls were derelict spikes protruding from the ground.

'It was at these walls I fought House Sere's army. Gods, what a day that was. These whole fields swarmed with them, their corpses littered the ground. Lord Triton Sere himself died here, along with his three sons. House Sere fell that day. O, what a glorious day to crush the enemy so completely after their own arrogance led them to that fate.' Hagsby rolled back his head in a cackling laugh.

He neglected to mention that the fall of House Sere's leadership left their lands open to attack. With no lord to rally forces the state crumbled under the weight of bandits and power hungry allies tearing Sere's land, Provos, apart. I wasn't there personally, but Master Holom was. He said there wasn't a woman unmolested and a man left alive within a year. The children sold off by slavers.

Sure, House Sere was arrogant and power hungry but it's people did not deserve that fate. No one did. And here this old man spoke as if it was some glory awarded by the gods. Such men never thought of the grander scheme of things, lead only by selfish passion and desire. I guess in some ways that made me alike.

'Arrogant or not their own selfish desire to own a Quarry that was not theirs ultimately lead to their state's downfall. A pity really, because neither House Sere or House Collifer actually held claim to Moss Quarry. Which was originally Agrid's Desire, a mine that belonged to the dwarven kingdom of Kelrox. Abandoned when the kingdom relinquished it's hold in it's southern hills.'

'You're quite the smart fuckwit aren't you?'

'I seriously don't know if you're complementing me or not.' I grinned catching the flickering shadow of movement bare down from above.

'Halt! Who goes there?' Shouted a guard on the gate's wall, his shifting feet sending flicks of gray stone tumbling down to the dirt road leading through the derelict archway.

'You know who I am Johnathan!' Hagsby hollered with annoyance bouncing on his tongue ready to snap at the guard's ignorance.

'I know you Hagsby, I don't know him nor what he carries.'

'He's-,' The old farmer began.

'My name is Edward Tallman. My aunt Junn Tride resides within these walls. When her last letter reached me of these horrid famine my family pooled together our resources to either farm or purchase this sack of rice. In the hopes it my stave off starvation for her and whomever she wishes to share this with. I come to help.' I yelled back at him, lying blatantly through my teeth remembering a woman I only met briefly on my first visit.

'Hmmm...I know Madam Tride...alright, you may pass.' The guard hidden by the blinding rays of white light cast upon Cravenholm by the rising sun waved us by. Just as we began to walk through the gate a second more powerful voice roared.

'Stop there! Let me see the face of Mrs. Tride's nephew!' Over the edge I glimpsed a bald man peek over the collapsed archway, sweat shining on his polished scalp. Made ever more apparent by his dark skin. I heard him grumble something then shout at us. 'Wait right there. I'm coming down for a closer look.'

I held my breath for a moment as the distant echo of clanking grieves clattered down unseen stairs. Unsurprisingly the soldier rounded the corner in a huff, hand on his sword.

'State your name.' He ordered to me, Hagsby's face twisting at this disturbance.

'Edward Tallman. As I was telling the watchmen up there,' I pointed at the slack jawed man, his ability to even give a damn waning, 'I am Junn Tride's nephew.'

'See I would believe you, if Mrs. Tride had any siblings to speak of. Lucky for you, I remember you. You were that apprentice with the Master Slayer.' He spoke highly as if he was a genius for seeing through my act not that it was well done.

Hagsby sighed, gave me a stern look then shot his piercing eyes back at the guardsman.

'Oh come off it!' He shouted the two guardsmen eyes opening wide in shock. 'Slayer this, Slayer that. We've got business, out of the way!'

'Do you not care that this man rode off to serve our Lord yet returns alone, without his Master?'

The old man eyed me wearily then smirked. 'Yeah, so what? He's come with food and is willing to lend an old man a hand. He's a better man than you lot and I bet his spine is not made of glass either.'

'Hagsby....' The guard pleaded as if saying his name softly would dissuade him.

'Fuck off and let us through!'

'Don't you care you're walking next to a slayer?' The guard huffed.

'All I care about is how he's helping this feeble old man while the rest of you sit with your thumbs up your asses. Now out of our way! He has food to deliver.'

'First I want my answers!' The guard roared catching the attention of a few villagers wandering by. They took one look at me, the guard, then left the way they'd come.

'I am a slayer bound to the Blood Charter by the Rule of the King of Synn. You nor any other body are within rights to impede my duty whether I be pursuing monsters or aiding a citizen of the kingdom.'

'You fucking Sinners! Think you're so damn special because of some paper with someone's name scribbled on the bottom line!' The guard grew more and more angry, his obvious contempt towards my people displayed on his snarling upper lip.

'That charter exists because of Humanity's failures, one of which being arrogance that blinds you to reality. Something I see quite clearly now!' I returned but my stern words only helped goad him on further.

'Enough of it! The two of you fuckwits!' Hagsby eyed the guard's hand, caressing the pommel of his sword readying to plunge it through my chest. 'Take your hand off that rustic hunk of metal, Grody. You know as well as I that Slayers are trained as well as knights. Even more so. Don't spill needless blood, least of all when it's your own.'

I eyed the farmer hearing his words ring entirely opposite of the longing he held for the days of war. Now it seemed, there was a hint of pain in his eyes at the memories hidden behind the glory. The blood, the death. He'd seen more than his share of it. Enough for the lifetime of three men, I'm sure.

Grody gripped his sword's handle contemplating taking action. I even noticed the guard above us move as if to support him but really I think he was just shifting into a better spot to take a nap.

'Fuck it! Go! Get on!' He dropped his hand waving them by.

'Wise decision.' Hagsby grumbled shambling forward on his walking stick.

The guard named Johnathan laid down on his back, nestling against the crumbling rock. I could see his limbs fall limp as sleep took him. Grody however, his body tensed as I walked by with the rice sack dripping over my shoulders. His steely eyes locked onto my hands almost begging for me to draw my sword but I had no reason to do so, he was not my enemy. Monsters were.

But that question came up once more. As Hagsby and myself walked through a dozen streets, a thousand alleys and a million courts to who knew where inside Cravenholm I began to wonder if I was the monster.

I looked different. Strong and well-built. Head shaved clean though the lack of care on this particular Job has let my hair desperately reach out, a shallow crop of black sprouting from my scalp. I had tailored clothes, leather pieces of clothing made in such a way to resist the teeth and claws of monsters or the strokes of falling swords. My eyes were sharp and alive. I was alive in so many ways, a being of complete oddity to the people of Cravenholm.

See as I walked alongside the old farmer I couldn't help but see the people laying in the street. Their clothes ripped and dirty. Hair a mess. Eyes gaunt and cheeks shallow from lack of food. You might have considered them to be beggars but they weren't; they were the lucky ones. I wondered then if I seemed a monster to them. For upon my shoulder I held a sack that could cure at least one of their sufferings yet I did not.

I withheld the food as was asked of me. I did not offer help to the fallen. Though I was human, though I thought myself a good man; The pained, pleading looks of desperation they turned my way did not slow my pace. And as I left their gaze I could feel their looks turn sharp with hatred. I wondered then if I was a monster in their eyes.

'Don't stop....' Hagsby told me, trying to avoid a woman that shot out to grab his arm but despite his fragile appearance the old man deftly evaded her desperate grasp and she tumbled into the dirt underfoot. I held my breath walking by the weeping woman noticing the back of her neck ravaged by sores. She couldn't even lift her head once it had fallen into the dirt.

'The further in the worse it gets.....' I commented trying to steady the rice at the same time.

'Long ago the walls used to keep outsiders out, now it keeps us in.' The old farmer sighed. 'Come, we have to get there.'

'And where exactly is “There”.' I asked him but before he could properly answer me his pointed finger did the talking.

At it's tip sat a rather ordinary building. At least what passed for ordinary in such a poverty struck city. For maintaining and repairing it's homes had fallen to last on their list of things considered necessary.

'There.'

'And there is?' I asked him glancing over my shoulder half curious to see if the woman still laid in the dirt. As if it were some horribly written ghost story she had disappeared most likely to beg for aid from another weary traveller. Though I doubted many came here anymore. I figured Holom and I were the first outsiders in awhile to visit Cravenholm.

Then again, I guess that wasn't true. Staring at Hagsby's wide back, product of years upon years of service and labor I wondered if he knew about the Shadow, The Broker, the one that had constructed my Master's downfall. Did anyone here know aside from Lord Collifer?

'There is where we are going.' Hagsby declared scampering forward with a renewed vigor as if he'd walked up to the same door a thousand times.

He approached it's old rotten face then gently knocked with a quick rasp of his knuckles three times. Paused. Then knocked twice more like any normal person would I wasn't expecting there to have been such a furtive collection of blows. After delivering the well-timed strikes having done so many times before Hagsby turned to me with a sly grin.

'Food here in Cravenholm is like currency. Have enough of it and you can own the whole damn city. That far our home has fallen. That their on your shoulder is worth your weight in gold.'

I eyed the sack. 'Why trust me with it?'

'Protection.' He stated plainly turning back to the oak door.

'What manner of crime have you gotten me into?' I asked but found my tongue stalled by a most peculiar sight. For in a swift, almost instantaneous action the door swung open revealing a woman.

She was not the muscle bound bouncer whom I had anticipated having expected this home to be some criminal hovel in the city's center. Here his rice would purchase any manner of strange oddities at this unlawful market.

No, her kind smile and small face framed by a tight fitting hood blacker than pitch from which her starched black dress woven from wool extended told me she was not that criminal I had expected. Though I certainly hadn't expected her. She was after all a Sister of the Faith; a nun.

'Mr. Hagsby! Come in! Quickly!' The woman waved us in with a soft gesture, her cheek pressed against the cocked door's rough edge. Leaning into it she peered out the way we had come hurriedly scanning the empty streets. She must have thought it all clear when her thin arms slammed the door shut threatening to rock it off it's hinges. I couldn't tell if the door was just shit or she hid her strength.

'It's all clear!' She yelled. At the sound of her voice a dozen thumping steps rolled across the upper floor. Not heavy so they weren't large; children?

I saw their little faces and lithe frames bound down the far staircase all smiles and giggles. The first sign of happiness in this dreary city. At the foot of the steps they all paused, a dozen of them, staring wide eyed at Mr. Hagsby.

His gnarled, weathered features fixed in that permanent scowl almost all old folk had turned on them with an investigative stare, sizing each one of them up.

'Alright....' He conceded just before the surge of excitement of their limbs couldn't contain their overabundant joy at his arrival.

Whilst they jumped and prodded at him his mouth curled into a smile as much as stranger to him as I. Leaving them to their joy I watched the nun quietly replace four large boards across the door then slam shut an iron bolt fixing the rotten slab of wood in place.

She caught my gazing eyes and returned a meek look as if looking upon a man coerced temptation that would defile her stringent beliefs. There was no shame in looking, especially if no explicit intent was involved but that didn't stop her from carefully twisting about me like water around rock.

'They've been waiting all day for you. You're late.' She chided the old man.

'Hush now Sister. I've come as I always have and always will! And I do so out of the kindness of my own heart!'

'You, kind? I'd sooner be a sinner.' The woman cocked her head back letting loose a honey sweet laugh whilst she fiddled with the burner on a dying lantern hanging off in one of the corners.

'No need to be so harsh. Without Aldwin I needed someone else to carry the sack.'

She looked at me once more trying with all her might to avoid eye contact. I wasn't quite sure why aside from her religious adherence. I never considered myself handsome nor did I find the woman attractive. The thick dress and hood robbed her of any feminine qualities. Were it not for her voice and revealed face and the slight curve to her chest breaking the static lining of her dress I could have easily mistaken her for a man from afar. That was always the weird part of the Faith. The most zealous of followers forced to wear those strange black hoods and dresses: men and women alike.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

'Speaking of who is he?' She asked blowing life into the lantern's flame.

'Oh, him....' Hagsby stared at the children hounding him, begging for him to play with them. Then as if to breath life into his words he jumped at them. 'He's a Slayer!'

The children whooped and hollered excitement. I heard the nun gasp, her hands began to quiver almost dropping the lantern she held in her hands.

'Simon! Why have you brought a Slayer into this house?' She said shocked.

'Because he helped these old bones carry the rice that will feed the children for some time. At least until another crop grows. Mary, does anyone know?'

'Know? No, of course not!' She eyed me wearily. 'Why do you ask?'

'Carter and Benji showed up at my farm today. Took my damn food.'

Mary's eyes grew wide with worry. 'Gods no. How did they know?'

'Must have figured I'd had some food for myself. Took it though I didn't put up much of a struggle. Least not what I could have back in my day.'

'In your day wars ran rampant across these lands.' Mary told him expecting that thought to terrify the old farmer; it didn't. It only made him miss it more.

'So, was that all your food?' I asked Hagsby to which he nodded solemnly with a shrug.

'Simon! Come take some of the rice you brought back home!'

'No, no. You and the children need it more than me. I'm strong. I've been through worse. I still have some tucked away.' I watched his eyes dart to the little ones circling him, jumping about with excited shouts of joy. I knew then that he lied but it wasn't my place to say anything.

'Are you sure?' Mary asked worried he might not be telling the whole truth.

'I'm sure. That sack should last you months on end. By then the rice crops I have now should reach maturity and I can bring you and the kids more.'

'Honestly, how you maintain anything in that wasteland is a gift of the gods themselves.' Mary said with a short prayer. Something about that just rubbed me the wrong way and I instinctively scoffed. Her brown eyes were quick to shoot my way, a fiery passion burning in them. I heard the children whistle behind me.

'Now you've done it.' One of them stated plainly.

'And what would you know of the gods Sinner?'

'I would know they have abandoned this city....' I told her straight faced garnering a few boos from the children that then giggled to themselves. 'What have the Faith done to help? I don't see their caravans coming to offer aid. I don't see missionaries coming to spread the good word. Why? Because even the High Priests see this place as damned, that and they see no chance for profit from this dying land.'

Mary looked at me wide-eyed as if it was impossible for someone to not believe in her religion. But there I was. Standing before her a heretic as far as she was concerned. My beliefs my own and that of my family.

'The Faith is kind to it's believers. They need only have faith in the forty-two and they will see this land reborn. That is why I alone stay to take care of the children who still pray to the gods every night.'

'They pray to forty-two gods every night and yet not a single one will come to help.' I told her leaving the woman flustered.

She had seen the pain. The tragedy gripping Cravenholm and all the desperate acts that came with it. If her faith wasn't shaken before it surely was now. Though I in no way wanted to break that faith it was almost pleasant to see her still holding on to it. It showed tenacity though ignored logic and reason in the process. Whether the Gods were real or not they obviously did not care for the ruins of Cravenholm.

'Then we need only find patience and faith that they will come and save us. That is my duty and I will follow it until death.'

'Where you shall meet my God.' I smirked but the expression was quickly robbed from my face by a ferocious slap that cracked the air loudly.

'Your God is a heretic to all the good people of Sinn. The Faith preaches compassion and love, caring for your fellow man.'

'Yet practices greed and lust just as the worst of us. The only difference between us Sinners or your High Priests is we don't lie and say we act in the name of the Gods.'

Mary's face grew red with anger. Her small palm wound back ready to strike me once more. Not saying I didn't deserve it. I just wasn't on the same level of fanaticism when it came to the Faith. It had already failed me once.

'Mary how about we make some food?' Hagsby kindly asked snapping her out of her fury, I couldn't help but glance at the old man, my face thankful for his interruption.

'Yes! Food! You guys must be starving!' She spoke to the children who cheered. 'Then sit around the fire, I'll prepare the rice.'

As I mindlessly palmed the red burning mark on my cheek I watched the children say their prayers then gorge themselves upon thick spoonfuls of rice. Mary had added some spices to elevate the taste but the children didn't seem to notice. They seemed just as happy to fill their stomachs as a man that had not known the beauty of steak his whole life and was now willing to eat himself to death in the luxurious meat.

But to them that rice was steak, the fire they gathered around, their table. They talked among themselves, laughed and cried, picked on and cheered up. They were a little family and as I watched Mary spoon another heap of white rice with tiny brown flecks that were the spices she used into another child's bowl I almost felt guilty of the life I had lead.

One of the children caught my solemn look then flung her tiny pale hand across my wrist. I coddled the wooden goblet in my hands looking down at her cross-legged on the floor in front of me from the crate I sat on.

'Yes?'

'Is it true? You're a Slayer?' She asked with such a sweet voice that on the cusp of death one might have called her an angel. If she grew up she could even sing in the King's Hall. If she grew up. That thought haunted me. This sweet child would never live to see ten. Not if she stayed in Cravenholm.

'I am. I hunt monsters, that is true.' I said her eyes lighting up like fireworks.

'Is that also why you look so glum. Because Mary says to never trust Slayers because they are Sinners and you fought with her earlier....' I smiled at the child's innocence, Mary stopped shoveling rice and stared our way much to the impatient boy's annoyance. He gladly took the ladle from her hand and finished the job with an extra spoonful.

'Holly-' Mary began but I waved her off. It was fine I was used to it and the bright look in the child's eyes told me she meant no harm.

'While it is true we are Sinners do you know what makes us Sinners?' I asked her to which she shook her head. I lifted my gaze to stare at each child who equally shook their heads.

I smiled.

'Let me teach you a bit of our history.' Hagsby shifted quietly in the corner, spooning rice into his half-toothless mouth. The raw fleshing of his gums mushing down on the white rice. He listened intently as did the children who stopped eating to hear better. Only Mary seemed disinterested.

'Every Slayers regardless of how nice they might seem, how kind they are. Whatever compassion they exhibit to their fellow man, they all are fundamentally the same. Before we were Slayers we were criminals or renegades, bandits; heretics to those that follow the Faith. Why are these trained fighters of monsters taken from the ranks of such loathsome creatures?'

'It's a good question, right? Here's the answer.' Though I tried to enthrall them the harsh reality of what I was about to say weighed heavily on my soul. 'Because Slayers aren't expected to live long....' I thought of Master Holom who neared three centuries, who had survived all the odds only to be given to his death by a coward. My hands tightened around the goblet. I could already imagine myself wringing the life from Lord Collifer's neck, but I can't, because I had already let him die.

Looking at the children I knew they needn't know such things. Nor Mary or Hagsby for that matter. That discussion was more suited for Lady Katharine who I guess would have to wait until tomorrow for the hour grew late and it did not suit any visitor unless expected to arrive at such dark hours.

'They're not expected to live long? How old are you then?' Holly asked me.

'I'm only eighteen.' I told him aware that half my expected life span had already passed.

'A Slayer already by eighteen?' Mary gasped to which I smiled.

'I have yet to go through the Trial of Glass. I'm still an apprentice until I can take it.'

'And which Coven are you?' She asked me a hint of curiosity in her eye. I hadn't expected her to pry even that much but it excited me to tell them about my family.

'The one in the Rumbling Thorns.'

'Rumbling Thorns? What kind of bullshit name is that?' Hagsby cried.

'The witches chose it. It makes sense if you live there. The surrounding thornwood forest was enchanted by them to attack intruders. Hence; Rumbling Thorn.'

'That sounds awesome!' Holly shouted exuberantly.

'You think so?' I asked. The tiny girl nodded vigorously. 'I suppose it is.'

Suddenly I noticed all the children were looking at me with great intent. A look of attention that even Mary noticed. She must have worried I might poison there little minds thus promptly ordered them off to bed before the moon reached it's zenith. That Yukone, the God of Dreams might impart upon them a blissful restful sleep before she too enters a deep slumber.

'But I want to hear more about Slayers!' Holly stated sharply.

'I'll have none of it. Yukone does not wait for you before she sleeps.'

'Then I'll sleep restlessly tonight.' She pouted, cheeks puffed out.

I leaned next to her ear. 'If you go to bed now maybe Yukone will give you wonderful dreams of the Rumbling Thorn.'

'You think so?'

'Mm-hmm.' I nodded. I watched her lips curl and open into a toothy smile. 'Will you tell us a bedtime story and tuck us in?'

First I looked at Sister Mary her eyes screaming worry, brow furrowed enough with doubt that it made me almost second guess my answer. Then I watched the children eyes light up with anticipation. I couldn't let such sweet children down. I nodded.

'Only if you promise to sleep right after the story is done.'

'I promise.'

I thrust out my little finger. 'Pinky promise?'

She hooked her own into man and shook my hand. 'Pinky promise!' She affirmed racing off with a giggle, the other children followed her. It wasn't long after they were out of ear shot that Mary trained her worries on me.

'I don't want you telling them stories of war and death and despair.'

'Is that all I have to offer them? Death? Despair?'

'What more can a sinner offer the innocent?' She said collecting the empty bowls the children had left behind.

'My life.' I told her. She paused unsure of how to react. That was my job after all. To die fighting for the people of Sinn.

'Now, now you two. I've had about enough of your petty differences and these tiny little spouts of bickering. Stop being such arses and realize there's more than enough room for two religions in this world.'

Mary shot the old man a dirty look expecting him to side with her but he just laughed it off.

'Mary, if you want to try that eye thing wives do you're gonna have to do a lot better than Emma. Gods, her icy glare could turn even Lords into whipped fools.'

'Mr. Hagsby you're a man of the Faith! How could you side with him?' Mary said.

'Don't count me for such a fool yet Mary. I've seen a great many things. Though the Faith doesn't promote tolerance as it should, any man who has seen war knows that on the battlefield religion is just a few pieces of paper with words scribbled on their aged surface that can't stop a sword from piercing your gut. I'll pray to Ozzimir that my harvest is bountiful. I'll pray to Asphosis that my seed might produce strong children. But to completely write off the Slayer's god, uh-'

'Vishnurr.' I said.

'Vishnurr. Treating him like a heretic just because he doesn't adhere to the Faith, now that's wrong.'

'Then why does he think he's so right? That his god is better than ours?' Mary snapped at me.

'I think the Faith by concept is wrong. Or at the very least, corrupt. It's just a colossal waste of time. By it's very definition during it's formation the Faith was to promote the growth of humanity to a better age but has succumbed to the greed of it's holy leaders. I don't see how you think this religious machine created to funnel money and power into the hands of men who claim to be the prophets of mute gods was righteous or at all their plan.'

'The Forty-Two have a plan for us all. We are just too simple to ever understand their methods. It is by their design that we live. That the trees grow strong. That our water flows freely and that we may so act and live by accordance of their commandments.'

'So the idea of free will does not exist within the Faith?' I ask her.

'I am a Sister of the Holy Family of the One Faith. I have given that up to serve the gods in the purest form and will do so until I am dead.'

'And was it their will that you stay here and watch these orphans?' Mary paused as I spoke. 'I find it strange that I saw not one religious icon on my way through the city. Almost as if they'd all been taken.'

I stood up. 'Funny. Cause if the good people had stolen all of those pricey religious items they could have fenced it all to nearby cities for a rather extraordinary amount of food. I'd say a city of this size would have had a lot of it. Valuable too. So tell me, did the the faithful people of Cravenholm steal the icons of the Faith and sell it off for food? Would it's good faithful servants be so desperate as to commit larceny just for a bit of food?'

'No...' The sister muttered.

'Then the lack of religious ornamentation and preachers giving their sermons on the street means the Faith has abandoned Cravenholm. Which makes me wonder why you're still here? Cause your boss and colleagues have left, but you stayed. I admire that.'

'Stop....just please, stop.' Mary said looking at me with pained eyes. It didn't really hit me at first but when she ran up the stairs, her feet pounding into the creaking wood and the subsequent slam of a door I felt my heart drop with guilt.

I turned to Hagsby. 'Should I go apologize?' I asked but in my heart I knew I should.

The old man grinned. 'You two remind me of Emma and me. Apologize later, she'll need a moment. But it wasn't entirely your fault.'

'It wasn't?' I said shocked.

'No. You're right, the Faith abandoned Cravenholm. The High Priest here took the clergy and left. Took all of their valuables with them, things the citizens had paid for them to have. They abandoned the good people left here to starve. The Faithful showed their true colors that day, all except one.'

'Mary. She stayed behind to help the orphans.' I said seeing the pattern to Hagsby's story.

'Yup. In doing so the High Priest threatened to have her excommunicated from the Faithful but she refused saying it was the duty of the Faith to care for all it's people and that it was the right thing to stay behind.'

'Yet she calls me a heretic.' I quipped but the old farmer's eyes shot me down.

'Ehhhh, that's her choice. One bad opinion doesn't make her a bad person. I've made bad choices, doesn't make me a bad person.'

'So you think you're a good person?'

'Fuck no! But I'm not bad either. You should understand that the world is an endless sea of gray and we're just floating on the surface. Glass spines sink and the strong ones swim but we can never get out.'

'That's a really fucking depressing thought.' I said from the corner of my mouth.

'Yeah, it is. But as a Slayer I'd say you can relate.'

My thoughts immediately went to Lord Collifer's terrified face as he was torn to shreds and eaten alive. Choking on his own blood as his fury soaked eyes cursed me from beyond the grave. Then the consuming horde stole him from my sight.

'I can relate. Maybe I was a little too harsh about it. I just don't like being attacked for my own belief. Especially when I'm bound by the laws of gods and men to serve any and all that ask, for a proper reward of course.'

'You think she does? You fuckwits. You keep forgetting the world isn't about you.'

'Can't deny that. Guess this is what happens when my master isn't here to watch what I say.'

'You mentioned you were an apprentice. Where is your master?' He shambled over to a rocking chair in the corner.

'Dead.'

'I'm sorry to hear that. Were you close?'

Close? That word didn't adequately describe what Master Holom was to me. Hero? Savior? Teacher? Censor?......Father......

'We were close. He's the one that always kept me out of trouble.'

'Well now you're on your own kid. You have to fix your troubles yourself, you can't avoid them forever.' He told me. His head rolled back against the chair's soft cushioning, eyes closed, hands folded on his lap as he gently rocked.

'You don't like to sugar coat things do you?' I said with a smile.

'Nope. Now stop bothering me. Don't you have some kids to tuck in.' He shooed me off with a wave of his hand.

'Oh, right, see you in the morning I guess.'

'Mmm-hmm.' He hummed as he fell asleep.

I found the children waiting in their beds. For the most part they had done of the job of tucking themselves in without my help. Maybe they just couldn't help waiting for my bedtime story. Though I was no bard or a court jester I fancied I could rummage up a wonderfully silly story for them.

They lay in their twelve beds, each spaced equally from the next in two rows. Between their foot-posts I noticed the hardwood floor laden with strewn toys and clothes, some of which were too small for any of the children. Outfits for a doll perhaps?

Holly lay in the bed to my right. It's size barely enough to fit an adult but spacious for a child. She had already pulled the covers up to her armpits, arms flopped over the rough looking blankets edge.

'You guys already tucked yourselves in?' I said in surprise catching the eye of one of the boys at the far end.

'We got tired of waiting for you!' He hollered.

'Sorry, I got caught up speaking with Mary and then Mr. Hagsby. I couldn't have been more than five minutes.' I smiled pulling a chair from the corner of the room to the doorway.

'Is Sister Mary angry?' One of the other girls asked. A tall one her; black skin, even blacker hair like sprung out from her head like springs.

I settled into the chairs creaking joints. 'Why would you think that?'

'Cause we heard her run up the stairs and slam her door. She only ever does that when she's angry.' Said another boy, he himself laying two beds in. Then it struck me, all the boys lay on the left side of the room, all the girls on the right. I wondered if that was intentional.

'Maybe a little. We had a bit of a conversation that upset the sister.'

'Was it about the Faith?' Holly chimed in.

'If you must know....yes...yes it was. I might have been a little rude and unsympathetic towards her and before you all say anything after I'm done with your story I will apologize to her.'

'Does that make you the bad guy?' A girl in the back asked.

'Why would it make me a bad guy?' I asked her in turn.

'Because you were mean and mean people are bad.'

'I wouldn't say I was mean. Maybe a bit rough, sure. All it boiled down to was that she and I had differing opinions. I might have been a little harsh about it but that doesn't mean I was being a bad person. I was offering my opinion and thoughts on the subject and may have been a bit insensitive about it.'

'Then you were mean.' She said blankly.

'Uh....yes... in a way.'

'So you were the bad guy.'

'Uh....no.....I- uh, I'm not-. Okay, let's put it this way. Have you ever thought you knew something to be so absolutely right that when someone told you you were wrong you got a little annoyed by it. And you tried so hard to tell them otherwise that you got a little mean.'

The children stared at me blankly before a boy in the middle piped up.

'Yeah! Like when Sally said tomatoes are a fruit but they're a vegetable.'

The girl at the end perked up at her name. 'They are a fruit Joshua!'

'No they're not. They're a vegetable you put them on salads!' He shot back.

'No, you're wrong. They are a fruit!' Returned the girl next to Sally.

'How can you both be so stupid!' Shouted a boy. 'Tomatoes are vegetables, they're not fruits!'

'Shut up Harvey, no one was speaking to you!'

'Why do you have to be so mean to Harvey.' Another boy rose his voice in defense of his fellow orphan.

'Girls! Boys!' I shouted above them all standing from the chair with two outstretched arms as if I could physically smother their raised voices. 'That is precisely what happened between Mary and I. Disagreements can get out of hand. And you start to get defensive, you get loud and you start to say things that sometimes you don't always mean to say. Hasn't Sister Mary ever told you to think before you speak? This is why that's good advice to keep. Even as an adult.'

I clapped my outstretched hands together, the snap of flesh cupping air in an instant echoed in the hall behind me. Rubbing them together I warmed my hands preparing for the next bit I had in mind.

'Since we are on the subject now of speaking without thinking I believe I owe you all a bedtime story. So quail the squabbles children and let me tell you about the time my master and I came face to face with a horrible, smelly goblin named Erik.'

I was only ten at the time. Not much older than yourselves. When my Master, Holom, took a job from a small farmer that had been losing his crops to some strange animal he spotted creeping through the woods. He wanted us to get rid of it because his bear traps weren't doing anything.

In an instant my Master knew it was a goblin. Small leathery things that smelled like dead cows. They were horrible looking, horrible smelling and swore more than Old Man Hagsby. But they were weak by themselves.

See before this job I was having a rough time adjusting to my new life as a Slayer's apprentice. I was mouthy. I showed no respect. All in all I was just irresponsible and in the life of a slayer that's a quick way to get you killed.

So when Holom found out it was a goblin taking the farmer's crop he sent me out alone to kill it. So I did. Or at least, I tried.

Since the goblin always came at night I knew if I wanted to kill it I would have to wait. Laying there in the bushes I waited and waited until the morning sun came up. No goblin came that night. Master told me to wait again so I did. But yet again, no goblin.

I thought to myself. Maybe he moved on. Maybe he left and I didn't have to kill him. Master then posed to me a question. Would it be right to hunt down this creature that has left? After all our job was to get rid of it and it had left? Thinking myself a true slayer I told my master that it was our job regardless of what we were hired to do to kill monsters.

I thought I was right. Seeing my eagerness he sent me out far into the woods to find the goblin and make sure he would never come back. For two days I tracked him deeper and deeper into the woods ready to plunge my sword into his chest and claim the kill. He was after all, a monster.

Before long I found him. His head bent over. His arms holding something I feared he might have held a rock hoping to use it to attack me so I attacked first. I lunged forward stabbing through the creature's chest. I felt so proud in that moment. Why? Because it felt like I had become so strong that I cut through his body as if it were air.

You should have seen the look on my face when I realized he was holding his own head. But his head was a watermelon. I must have looked pretty dumbfounded because in the next moment the trap underneath me released sending me tumbling down a ten foot hole filled to the waist with mud and other nasty things.

I had thought I had him. I thought I had killed the monster but when I looked up the hole, there he was. Completely fine and laughing. He had used a decoy to lure me over the pitfall. I felt so stupid and so sure that I would get him that I underestimated his intelligence. See, goblins don't survive because they look like angels. They survive because they're smart and never pick a fight against an opponent they can't beat.

Looking back maybe I should had realized that. But I was headstrong. I said I would kill the monster and so I climbed out of the hole covered in Gods knew what but the goblin was gone. Boy, when I returned to my master he let me have it. He couldn't stop laughing. But his laughter fueled my desire to catch the bastard. And so I went out day after day to catch the goblin, each day failing to another trap.

At one point he caught me in a snare that strung me eight feet in the air. You might think it'd end there but he was an arrogant little bastard and proceeded to play the most annoying sounds on a drum right underneath my swaying body. He even sang too!

Master had to come find me after two days. But after that point I had enough. I was done trying to catch the monster. I wanted nothing more than to prove my worth, that I was right and I got played. But we spent one more night at the farmer's dwelling before moving on. That's when I heard it. A snap!

I raced outside just on the edge of the farmer's land. The goblin stuck in a bear trap. It was perfect. All this humiliation, all this wasted effort and finally I could kill him. So I rose my sword high over my head but it never came down. As I looked upon this creature who had toyed with me for two weeks I couldn't bring myself to kill him.

Because I did not see a monster. No. I saw the same fun loving goblin that gleefully played his drums as I hung from a snare. He didn't mean to hurt me or kill me. He had more than enough opportunities. He was just being himself and that's when it struck me. I was the monster. I was this strange creature stalking him through the forest with nothing else on my mind but killing him. And yet he never struck back with violence. It was rather alarming really. I, a slayer's apprentice, saw myself as the monster.

So I sheathed my sword, gripped the bear trap and with all my strength I pulled until it's teeth came free enough for the goblin to pull his leg out. We exchanged looks, he even said thank you. And apologized for his smell before he gave me his name: Erik. I spoke with him for a bit after that. Then when the morning sun rose covering the world in an orange glow he stepped into the forest and disappeared. The farmer never had problems again.

My memory faded of those lighthearted days and the world before my very face sprung back into view. I had lost myself in my own story expecting to see the smiling faces of the children pointed at me. But I guess I shouldn't have been so optimistic. At some point in the story they had all fallen asleep. Pillows wrapped around their tiny little heads, they all slept entranced by their dreams.

'Good night children.' I whispered quietly shutting the door behind me.

Just across the hall, another door stood slightly ajar. I could see the orange glow of a candle flame bouncing through the tiny crack. Being me, my curiosity asked me to creep up to it and peer inside. I was more than happy to oblige.

Though it wasn't as if I had found a lost treasure, the inside was mostly bare aside from a few rather plain shelves. I then heard the muttering. Someone prayer quietly under their breath.

I couldn't see her but I knew she was there. Sister Mary on her knees praying before the candle, her visage blocked by the door. I brushed it open with the back of my hand. Could even hear the air whistle through her teeth as she breathed deeply at the disturbance.

'That must be you Slayer.' She said not without a hint of annoyance.

'Yes, it is. And the name's Agarn.' I told her leaning up against the exposed door frame. I could see it's wood splintering from age, bending from the pressure of the roof. It was an old house.

'What do you want Agarn?' She hissed trying to remain composed.

'I want to apologize.'

Sister Mary eyed me, her hands clasped before her chest. For a moment she wondered if I was serious. Then she pointed to a chair in the corner.

'Sit.' She told me.

Setting myself in the rickety chair I looked her over once more. She had returned to muttering some prayer to the Forty Two. The One Faith was adamant about it's Children and their consistent need to have them offer piety though only the most faithful such as the Holy Family uphold that duty every night. Then her words ceased and for a moment she was silent.

'You wanted to apologize?' She said finally.

I crooked my elbows on my knees laced my fingers like a table then sat my chin upon it. Something about the situation felt off. Perhaps because I was so used to seeing the Holy Family pray before giant altars adorned with varied ornamentation in giant chapels not unlike the church in Iory. They would pray in such lavish abodes dismissing any other setting as unfitting of the Gods servants yet Sister Mary seemed content with her single candle. It felt more.....personal.

'I did. I wanted to apologize. It was not my intention to belittle your religion or the followers of the One Faith.' I told her.

'But you were right....' She mumbled, my eyebrow cocked out of curiosity.

'On what exactly?' I said even to my surprise.

'The Holy Family, The High Priest and the other Sisters, they all abandoned Cravenholm. They had prayed day and night for the Forty Two to save this city and it's lands but no help came. Before long they took everything with value and left.'

I wasn't surprised. I wish I could say I was but I wasn't. Guess I should have expected to be right. The Faith though it's tenets speak of righteous morality it's practitioners were rather fickle. There was no room for adaptability.

'But you stayed?' I said.

'The High Priest told me they had no future in the eyes of the Gods. They would not survive the fortnight....That was two years ago. He told me to abandon them to the cruelness of this world. I couldn't. Even after he threatened to excommunicate me from the Holy Family for disobeying a High Priest.'

'To disobey a High Priest is to disobey the Gods.' I commented aware of how foolish such arrogance was.

'But I stayed. I couldn't leave these children to fend for themselves.'

'That's very noble of you.'

'I guess that makes us similar.' She said meekly.

'How so?' I asked with intrigue.

'That goblin, Erik. You didn't kill him.'

'You were listening?' I stared into her eyes as she turned to me.

'Say the same prayer ten thousand times over and you can repeat it in your sleep. Guess I've gotten used to listening to the world around me when I pray. Why didn't you kill him? It was your job after all.'

'Why didn't you listen to the High Priest?'

'Because it wasn't the right thing to do. But the High Priest isn't a goblin.'

I smiled. 'No, no he is not though I imagine some dissidents might have described him as such.'

Mary gave a faint laugh. 'You're not entirely wrong there. So tell me why?'

'If you were listening you'd know Erik liked to catch me in his traps. Goblins, curious creatures. They like to tinker with things. Almost as much as dwarves. But all those times he never once tried to actually kill me, or hurt me for that matter. Just played his drums after every victory. Can still hear them actually. At first I thought it was to mock me. Later on I realized he was just having fun. He was just living and it was the same thing with his own bit of theft. You need food to eat and you need to eat to live. He was just doing what to him was natural instinct. He didn't deserve to be killed for such a petty reason. Just like you.'

'Me?' Mary slapped a hand to her chest.

'They didn't deserve it did they? To be abandoned and left alone in the misery of a falling city. To die wretched horrible deaths because no one cared enough to think of them.'

'Yes, I suppose so. They're innocent. Weak and untested. But they're also compassionate and kind and their laughter turns the dark days away. They didn't deserve it.'

'And that's precisely why I didn't kill Erik. He didn't deserve to die. But sometimes those that don't deserve to die are taken by cowards.' My mind flickered over the faint memory of my Master. It had only been a few days since Noxuz had taken him away to the Void where the Ruined Gods slept but already his face was hazy to my mind's eye. 'They're taken by the weak who only seek their own gain and in doing so condemn others.'

Maybe she saw the pain in my eyes, maybe my facial features contorted just enough to reveal the emotions I held back but Sister Mary turned to me. 'You lost someone close to you?'

'He was my adoptive father. A spineless bastard lead him into a trap and killed him.' I dared not speak on the specifics of it.

'Glass spines...Spineless people; Glass Spines as Mr. Hagsby calls them.'

'Yeah....Hey listen, I am sorry about any offense I might have caused.'

Mary waved me off. 'Don't worry about it.' She smiled. 'You must be tired. There's a spare bed on the third floor you can sleep in. Mr. Hagsby used to use it when he spent the night but his age doesn't meld well with stairs.'

'I think the rocking chair downstairs suits him just fine.' I stood from the chair. 'I'm off to bed. It's been awhile since I slept in a proper bed.'

'Then enjoy it while it lasts.' Mary said as I walked out the door.

'I will! Goodnight Sister.' I called back to her.

She shut the door and returned to her prayer. I suspected she would be at it for a little while longer and paid her no mind as I went upstairs and found the third floor to be little more than an attic. Crammed with crates and junk I found a bed in the corner just underneath the sloping roof.

Laying down I felt my body instinctively curl up on the tiny mattress and the pillow form to my head. Next thing I knew; I was out.