Across the dry river from La Cuna, there are now two mountains. One of broken rock, the other of twisted scrap. Near the huddled boulders of the first mountain tribesmen work to remove the feathers, flesh, and bone of a colossal mutant that looks like a bird and a man. The natives built an earthen channel that functions as a drain for the corrupted blood that gushes from the being, a cold red trail that expels an iron stench into the air.

Erika, after rubbing her eyes with her hands when she notices the strange being, leaves the little girls with the first tribals she finds. The natives show bitter faces, and when they see Erika, they tell her that they are getting ready to leave.

"How?" asks the German without understanding.

The answer is always the same: Wherever the Lancasterian decides.

When she asks for news about Chester and Nadjela, they all point to the melted crocodile skull, the one sticking out halfway up the mountain of charred metal. Erika nods and heads for the mound. She scales the armored wreckage, taking great care not to cut her palms and thighs on the sharp, open ridges. Reaches the entrance to the skull and discovers Chester.

The Lancaster is lying on an inner flank of the rail gun. In one hand he holds a half-finished bottle of rum, obtained from the loot left behind by the slavers. Erika closes the distance and sits down next to him, legs close together. Can you get drunk? she asks, but Chester remains silent with his eyes closed. She looks to the back, where a funeral pile lies with a body wrapped in plant tissue bandages.

"And she is...?" From the silhouette of the figure, Erika recognizes her as female.

"It's Nadjela" Chester answers, then takes a long sip from the bottle.

Erika's eyes widen.

"But how...?"

"I couldn't protect her" Chester show a self-deprecating smile. "I, who filled my mouth with being able to do everything, was unable to be a hero for her"

Chester squeezes the bottle so hard that several cracks appear in the glass.

"They'll burn it tonight. It will rise, as they say. It will be their last ritual here, because they will move on. The Crocodile is harmful... In more ways than one"

He reaches for the bottle again but Erika snatches it away. Now it is she who takes a long sip, and as soon as she wipes the drops slipping from her lips, she says:

"I also failed. Ash stole your armor"

"Really?" Chester doesn't sound upset. He only seems capable of self-hatred, "That's too bad. Not that I'm surprised, she never liked me"

"And you decided to trust him with your toy anyway?"

"You were right" Chester takes the bottle and takes another swig. "Nadjela got to me. Her confidence in others rubbed off on me. But no more, now my sword will never waver. Do you think she'd be disappointed if she heard me?"

"I think she'd be sad to see you so down because of her. She loved you, Chester. Did you love her...?"

The Lancaster remains meditative, observing the body in the background.

"I don't know" he answers and, without looking, returns the bottle to the German. "I don't understand these feelings"

He looks at his palms, hard and calloused from clenching his sword so tightly.

"That they hate me. That they envy me. That they want me dead. I know how to react to that. Rage and violence are old friends, I am comfortable with them, I would be disoriented in a world where they are not. But responding to being loved... Nobody taught me that. No one told me that was useful"

"What about your uncle? You talk about him a lot, sounds like he loved you"

"Uncle Julius was not a man of feelings. He gave me stone values, an ideal to pursue, and I'll always be grateful to him for that. Otherwise I wouldn't be me today, but a monster. More suited to the Crocodile than the North Star. There is also Simon... He always looked up to me, always wanted to follow in my footsteps. And I ask myself: Is there anything to admire? Are there steps to follow?"

Erika sticks out her tongue and lets the last drops of rum fall. She throws the empty bottle towards the scrap and it shatters into a thousand pieces.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"It was instinctive and awkward, but you and Nadjela had a feeling"

"Then I love it like a fucking ass"

"I've seen worse... Myself"

"The Erika I know can love?"

"Don't be an asshole, of course I have my little heart. Black, cold, and wrinkled, but there it is. Now I don't tell you the story"

"Really?"

"Yeah, fuck you" says the Nazi, but her smile, torn between sweetness and bitterness, shows that she is far from being seriously upset. "From now on you'll get a lot of love. All those people down there are fascinated by you, aren't they, Lancasterian?"

Chester lets out a long sigh and puts a hand to his face.

"Are fascinated with the fantasy built up about me" he sounds frustrated. "Lancasterian? What the fuck does that mean? Whoever made it up is an idiot. They didn't even let me choose the name. I hope the story doesn't go any further, it's too embarrassing"

"What name would you have chosen, then?"

Chester leans back, puts his hands on his knees, looks at the ceiling and thinks.

"Something that sounds like metal.... Something like... Super Mega Chester!"

Several seconds of silence elapse, giving way to laughter. Loud, raucous, shared laughter. They clutch their stomachs, tears come to their eyes, they lose their breath.

Erika's laughter is the first to stop. Chester's gradually turns to a whimper, then a sob. Hunching over, palms clutching his tears, he clings to Erika for comfort. The German accepts him in an embrace. The muskite's grief rests against the mercenary's chest.

"She stood in front" Chester murmurs.

Erika caresses his back.

"Why did she get in front, Erika?"

"It's not your fault"

"I know. But that doesn't stop me from feeling bad"

They remain entwined until silence covers them. Under that stillness, Erika decided to keep to herself the anecdote of apparitions and signs that guided her return to the tribe. At least until Chester passes his mourning.

...

The moon blesses the night, beautiful and full. Fire flutters in the wreckage of the Crocodile.

Chester watches the smoke rise, watches the ritual from a window of the Tashala house. He spoke with the family earlier, and they considered it an honor that the hero of the tribe decided to stay with them. The truth is that Chester couldn't bear the prospect of staying in Neddin's home.

Lying in a hammock and stroking the piglet on his belly, the Lancaster tried to sleep, knowing that he would need all his energy to lead tomorrow's exodus. He promised to take them to a paradise without equal, where food and water abound, the grass is green, and the invisible death, that which devours the skin, is kept far away. And if they do not find this dreamed paradise? He decided that they would build it with ingenuity and will.

Will it be difficult? Sure. Will there be pain? Possibly. Will enemies want to stop you? He will defeat them. And if he fails...? You will accept responsibility for your actions and the penalty, whatever it may be. Either succeed or succeed, there are no half measures when your goal encompasses the lives of so many people. Otherwise by clinging to and denying the error, he would be just like Neddin, a despot blinded by folly who kept his people in hunger and misery.

Chester consoles himself with the thought that Neddin's name will surely disappear in the stormy seas of history. And Nadjela's will be treasured as the name of that young and beautiful princess who, armed only with her kindness and best wishes, faced the unknown and opened the door to a better future.

"I'm going out to pee" says a sleepy Erika as she rises from a nearby hammock.

"You don't have to announce it" Chester replies with a vague smile.

"Shut up"

"You don't have to go outside either"

"I prefer the bush, so what?"

...

"Fuck" Erika grunts and pulls. "I need... A... Fucking... Pajamas"

She prances around until he manages to zipper up his uniform. Vicissitudes of the heroes that the people don't see. She steps out of the bushes, only to be startled by the apparition ten paces away. Erika turns pale.

Again Nadjela, this time manifested with such a sharpness that she looks like flesh and blood.

"I need to ask you a favor" says the princess in a very clear voice, free of any supernatural subterfuge. Erika can even swear that there is a certain blush on the girl's cheeks.

"What favor...?" Erika stutters.

...

The little pig squeals with excitement and jumps out of Chester into someone's arms. The snores of joy are not long in coming. The Lancaster wonders what all the fuss is about, and as he looks around, the shock takes his breath away.

"Eri...? Nad...?" His tongue is tangled, and so are his thoughts. He is paralyzed.

The female wears a white outfit woven from threads created from stems of The-nest-of-all-plants. The upper part is sleeveless and reaches above her navel. The bottom is a thong of stems with two thick strips of fabric, one in front and one in back to preserve modesty. The fabric slides down the curvatures of her freckled legs as she walks. Both pieces feature a design of zigzags and red lines that mimic the wings of birds. As icing, the necklace, a perfect white orb.

Then there are the war tattoos... Her height is taller than the brunette's... The Germanic features... The fiery hair. None of that should compute... But those eyes possessed a purity and mercy that the Erika she knows could never fake.

"It was you" No trace of a violent accent in her pious tone of voice.

"What...?" Chester still stunned.

"My first kiss. At the lake, after I saved you, I took advantage of you..." Nadjela puts the piggy down and sits with Chester. She hugs him. She sinks her face into her favorite nest. "Now I want another one... One that will last me for eternity"

Chester is slow to come out of his stupor, but finally, undaunted by the alerts that logic tells him, he leans over and gives it to him. They savor every second, every tickle of breath, every aftertaste of each other, as a heavenly gift. They gaze into each other's eyes without tiring. The nobleman smiles.

"Did you take advantage of me?"

"Aha..."

The garments that are in the way, are removed.

"Do you forgive me, Nadjela?"

"Forgive you?"

"You died..."

"I lived well"

Never before have these dented bodies been treated as gently as they are now. The caresses they bestow on each other are slow, but they burn hotter than any cut or shot.

"Will we meet again?"

"Many years from now, I hope"

"Why not now?"

"You're missing..."

"What's missing?"

"To live well"

Under the moon, princess and swordsman become one.

"Nadjela"

"Yes?"

"I love you"