PROLOGUE
A pebble in a big pond
The waves crashed roughly against the stony shore of the island, the starry sky quietly contemplating the monotonous nature of the tide. The night was cold and uneventful, few ships having been sighted from the twin towers of the outpost where John was stationed. Two weeks had passed since he first arrived on that poorly maintained barge belonging to the royal navy. He didn't have much trouble adapting to life at the island, as the stay there was more pleasant compared to that wooden mess of a ship. It required for him to stay quite industrious though, for as large and impressive as the outpost was, it was poorly manned. The quartermaster made a habit of putting the recently arrived recruits from the mainland to good use in the shortest possible amount of time, and he did just that when John first nestled his feet among the coarse sand.
When he first joined his lord's army, he did it as a way to escape the gruelling and stale work he performed at his family farm. Tough he loved playing with his brothers among the grassy meadows or bathing in the warm waters of the Greenriver falls, the latter years had not been kind to the youth. A combination of bad weather and a plague had dramatically reduced the amount of crops his family could produce, that coupled with the amount of the harvest that went to tribute left little to sell on the markets. So inevitably, the 17-year-old had little to no off time, in order to keep up with the demands of farmwork needed.
One night then, when he finally had enough, he packed up what little possessions he had to his name, and set out to the capital of Achnalt, where he met with the local garrison and properly enlisted into the army. He'd hoped for adventures on faraway lands, and in a way, he had gotten that. Only that instead of riding into battle under King Bruce’s leadership and gaining glory and unimaginable fortunes, he got stuck in a wet and depressing outpost where the only company are irritable old men and the relentless chant of the seagulls.
All of that considered tough, he still believed that he had made the right choice. The stay on the island was only 3 months long, after which he will get his first pay, and the only one he needed. With the number of coins he would gain from his brief stay on this sandy prison, he would be more than able to afford the journey east to some fancy marathese city, where he could rejoice among tasty cheap wine and meet some foreign beauty.
All that would have to wait tough, now he needed to focus on his watch duty until Barnabas came to take his post, which might happen sooner than he expected, as he began to hear the crackling of the wooden ladders that connected the tower to the main structure of the outpost. After a short time, he saw the dark gey helmet of his comrade slowly rise from the stairs, his imposing figure finally standing before him. There was Barnabas, a true hunk of a man clad in chainmail and leather, his green eyes and brown beard protruding from under his helmet. He greeted him, to which the recently arrived responded:
“I am sorry to tell you this, but I came to interrupt your ocean staring secession, little man” The man said in his gruff voice
“Don't tease me Barnabas, you know how much I enjoy standing and turning my head like a cartwheel in this cozy lookout” John sarcastically responded
“I know that it can be rough on the eyes, but given enough time, one learns to appreciate the wild nature of the ocean, not that I expect you to get it, but it might just help with your mood”
“We got plenty of water back at Greenriver, and its warmer and nicer than this wet desert!” John said, being annoyed by being remembered of the long distance between this wasteland and home.
“You can't call those blue threads water, everyone knows that it is the ocean were true sailors are forged! You people from the inlands like to boast about your great rivers, about how they stretch from the Saw to the east to the cliffs at the west, but sailing through those waters is as hard as having an afternoon stroll through a cobbled path!” Barnabas exclaimed, getting more agitated the more words escaped from his mouth
“The ocean, you see, it takes you where it wants you to go, not the other way around, one does not simply navigate it, you must fight to even have control of your ship. You might see your vessel as yours, but the ocean will make even the floor planks fight against your control, until all that's left of you are your withe bones being stripped of any flesh by the currents”
“That must be why all the rich merchants like to smoothly sail through our rivers rather than fight their way through your strong ocean” John said in a condescending tone.
“You got me there, I must admit” Barnabas said while calming down and letting out a small chuckle.
“Anyway, have your eyes caught something interesting during your watch?”
“Nothing, I'm afraid, a couple of merchant ships and nothing else, still as calm as last week. I guess you will suffer a similar boredom as I had for these past hours”
“There you are wrong, as I told you, I have learned to appreciate the tides, just staring at them gives me peace of mind”
“Then I am glad for you my friend, but as for me, I shall return to the barracks to take my well-deserved sleep” John said as he began to approach the ladder.
“You go rest, but do not let your guard down, you never know where those plundering bastards may show up”
“Whatever you say, enjoy the view” he said while taking the first step down, tough he would suddenly stop, as he had noticed something in the distance.
He stood back up, and positioned himself at the edge of the lookout, he had noticed a white spot in the distance, slowly approaching admits the waves. He stopped to blink, to see if it was his eye that was lying, but the white dot sailed steady on its course thorough the ocean. Barnabas, having his attention caught by the behaviour of his watchmate, also went to the edge.
“Do you see it too?”
“By the Sailor, I do” Barnabas responded wide eyed while pronouncing the name of his pagan god.
“Do you reckon they are pirates?”
“I doubt it, pirates who wander these waters tend to hoist black sails, they would also gain little of attacking a fort, as far as I know there is no treasure behind these walls”
“So, what are they then?” John said in a panicked manner
“It matters little now; we must alert the quartermaster!”
Both men quickly rushed to the ladder and began to make their way to quartermaster Pyke's office. But soon they stumbled upon him in the middle of the courtyard, his imposing but old frame barely lit by the torches surrounding them.
“Why in the lord's mercy are you frolicking around under the moonlight while you left the damn towers to do the night watch by themselves! Now you two better explain to me the purpose of this nighttime stroll of yours or I swear ill have both of you whipped until I see the white of your spine!” The quartermaster said while his face turner a fiery red as usual.
“This is not a matter of leisure sir, I assure you. We spotted a ship hoisting white sails coming from the south” Barnabas responded
“Then why in the bloody hell didn't you buffoons ring the bell?”
“It all happened too fast sir, it didn't cross my...” John interjected
“I don't care for your thinking problems boy, now go to the southern beach and see if you can make out more of our evening visitors, ill wake up the rest of these vermin to set up a perimeter”
“Understood sir!” -Both men said in unison
They began their way to the south gate, their armour clacking with every hasty step they took.
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“Why is he in that bad of a mood all the time?” -John complained between his breath
“You have to be forgiving to that old hag boy, he has spent more years in this damn island than you have in this world”
“Still, it isn't our fault that he wasted his life in this barren rock”
“Thats enough, stop talking or you'll tire those little lungs of yours”
John reluctantly agreed and kept marching until they finally arrived at the south beach. They found it barren, except for a couple of wooden barricades placed there to offer cover in case of an attack. Both men turned their sights to when they first saw the ship, scanning the horizon in look of it. There they saw it, being able to observe it more meticulously now that it was closer. The ship sported a white triangle shaped sail with a dark green line diagonally splitting it in two, its hull made of dark wood. But when they lowered their sights a little more, they made out 3 smaller objects between the dark tide.
“Those are boats!”
“Yeah, and they are approaching quickly”
As soon as Barnabas finished the sentence, the sound of marching could be heard from the south gate. The quartermaster finally arrived with the rest of the garrison, composed of 30 soldiers at most. They stopped at the edge of the gate, while the quartermaster crossed its frame in direction to the two of them.
“So, what do we have here boys?”
“Three landing craft quickly approaching sir “
“This is a proper invasion then. Now everyone, stand behind those damn walls! I want that door shut and archers on the lookout, the only way they are getting inside this fort is if they rase it to the ground first!”
The two men made their way inside the gate again, taking defensive positions beside their mates. Everyone looked ragged and nervous, result of their interrupted sleep. John took position in the line that formed behind the walls.
He managed to take a glance between the closing doors of the fastly approaching boats. They were filled to the brim with fully plated soldiers sporting lances, far more well equipped than he and his comrades. His mind could only think of the white and green sails, he had not heard of any house in the mainland hoisting those colours, only the barbarian kings to the south did.
Then a weakening realization finally overtook him, this was it, a real battle. It was not in a sunny hill with two armies facing each other sporting their lords' banners, but in a cold wet rock in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by pathetic and nervous men. The doors finally closed, and the quartermaster took his position in front of his men. The archers drew their bows in anticipation to the landing. Then everything was suddenly quiet except for the nervous breath of the men. John looked to the right to find Barnabas in a trance like state, murmuring a prayer under his breath, it was the first time he saw him this serious. Then he looked to the left and saw the rest of the defensive lines, they were all dead silent, quietly waiting for something to happen.
Then a thump was heard from beyond the door, the boats had finally touched the sand. The archers let loose a volley of arrows while angry war cries were heard from the beach. They fired as fast as they could, but they were quickly falling to the invader's own arrows until none where left.
“Brace yourselves men, for destiny is waiting for us behind that door. And by the lord in the heaves, we shall greet it with cold steel and our unbreakable resolve!” the quartermaster yelled to the line of trembling soldiers, the old man was the only one who looked eager to face his doom.
Then the heavy wooden door shook in its frame caused by something smashing against it, this startled the men, who unsheathed their swords in unison. It could only mean one thing, they were trying to breach in. The rhythmical hits combined with the crackling wood made the ambient more tense, John could feel how the anticipation formed into a knot in his stomach. Suddenly, it all went quiet, as if the invaders had given up and returned to their ship. The soldiers looked around and sharpened their senses, being only met by the rushing wind and soft crashing of the waves.
A final loud impact suddenly broke the door and rushing silver soldiers poured into the fortress.
“For Illuvan, for the king and for the realm!” The defenders yelled and charged against the wave of metal in front of them. John did not follow them tough, he could not make himself follow his comrades, for he was overtaken with fear. He managed to see Barnabas facing off against two invaders and saw how he blocked the strikes of their lances with his longsword. He then slashed the gap in the armour of one of them and punched the head of the other, for what he lacked in armour he made up in brawn and strength. But might alone could not defeat numbers, as he saw how his comrade was impaled by a spear from the back through his belly, quickly falling to his knees in pain. The man tried to pull the spear out but was stopped by an arrow to the head, finally succumbing and falling to the ground.
John still stood there motionless, as if he was a mere spectator of what was unfolding before him, feeling powerless as his comrades fell to the tenacity of the invaders. Suddenly he dropped his sword and began running to the barracks, only being able to think of home. He thought of the warm embrace of his mother, the jokes he shared with his father and the games he enjoyed with his brothers, the everlasting spring feasts and the cozy feeling of a fireplace in winter. He thought how all that had gone away because of his desire to break his monotonous life, how silly that thought seemed now that he faced oblivion.
He finally reached the barracks door and locked it as soon as he got inside. He knelt and looked through the window, seeing the battle that still raged on outside. His comrades were truly fighting to the bitter end, slashing and hacking trough their enemies, but ultimately falling one by one. The had formed a defensive circle in the middle of the yard, with the quartermaster still yelling and cursing to the heavens as he fought to survive. They couldn't be more than five left, in contrast the invaders outnumbered them at least ten to one.
Finally, only the quartermaster was left, having kept himself alive by his skill with the sword. The enemy surrounded him, but did not attack, as if they were waiting for something to arrive. The old warrior stood in disbelief at the passiveness of his enemy, but suddenly the circle of soldiers cleared the way for someone approaching form the broken door. From it came a man, also clad in plate armour, although his was more ornate in nature, possessing green details that decorated its edges.
His helmet sported a beak-like visor with a small dent for his eyes. The newly arrived stood in front of the quartermaster, who assumed a defensive stance now facing his opponent. The man drew a slightly curved sabre with his right hand, while tucking his left one behind his back. He swirled it around for a while before finally facing it in the direction of his opponent. The old man, filled with anticipation, finally charged, trying to slash the breastplate of his enemy. The knight evaded the blow with ease and proceeded to slash the back of the old man. He grunted in pain but quickly returned the strike with one of his own, sending a volley of attempts that where swiftly evaded.
It looked like the knight was mocking the quartermaster, evading his attacks and making tiny but severe cuts that weakened him. The quartermaster stopped for a second to look at his opponent, gasping for air and feeling the pain of his wounds, the knight stood there, awaiting his next movement. The old man charged again, grabbing his sword with two hands with fury in his eyes. He made it look like he was going to hit the breastplate again but changed the course of his strike and aimed at his opponent's helmet, catching him by surprised. He struck the helmet so hard that it flew off, leaving the uncovered face of the knight to everyone's sight.
The man had light brown hair that reached his shoulders, and a young sharp face with thin lips. His skin looked pale and unsettling, akin to a corpse. The old man smirked proud of his accomplishment, but he was met by the furious gaze of his opponent. As soon as the knight regained his balance, he began to quickly attack the quartermaster, who was struggling to parry his blows. He was no longer mocking him, his blows now had killing intent. With each blow he weakened his struggling opponent more, until the old man lost the grip of his sword, causing one of the blows to slash him in the throat, finally ending the duel.
John finally found himself truly alone. He did not know what he should do. Fighting was not an option now, his chance of dying with his comrades had already passed. He could make the attempt of reaching the boats in the southern port tough, he only needed to wait until the invaders left.
But all his hopes came crashing down when he heard the door opening and two soldiers came charging in. He stood up and attempted to squeeze by them, but his small frame stood no chance against them. He was soon restrained and brought outside to the middle of the courtyard. He was made to kneel facing the ground, right beside the corpse of the quartermaster. Before him stood the knight, examining him from above.
“He was hiding in the barracks commander, he was unarmed and posed little resistance” one of his captors said
“He certainly doesn't look like an officer” The knight responded in a smooth voice.
“Judging by his trembling, he must have fled as soon as we breached the door. It looks to me like we got ourselves a coward”
John could only manage to wail, struggling to make a sentence.
“Look brothers, he can only squeak like a scared mouse!”
The soldiers around him let out a small chuckle. The knight grabbed him by the back of his head and lifted it. He was now looking at him directly into his eyes.
“Look around you boy, see the corpses of all your fallen comrades around you, now think of how they fought to the end while you cowered inside, how we butchered them so effortlessly”
“P-p-please sir, spare my life, I beg you!” John said in a distressed manner
“Don't worry boy, I will let you live”
“Thank you, s-s-sir, you are most kind!”
“Now now, think about what I told you, I want you to tell that to the men that come to pick you up, to all the lords in the north. Tell them that the south does not forget what it is his”
“I will tell them sir, I promise you”
“Good” the knight said while releasing the boy's head from his grip, he then stood and looked down John.
“You might escape with your life boy, but I won't let you forget this display of cowardice. You are a disgrace to all your comrades, they at least died with beautiful purpose and resolve. Strip him of his chestplate, I will leave a mark you wont ever forget"
Before he could process what was said, two soldiers grabbed john from the back and forcibly took his breastplate and tore the wool gambeson under it. He could feel the cold wind stabbing him in the chest. The knight unsheathed his sabre once again, and laid the tip on top of his chest, he could feel how the sharp edge slowly pierced his skin
“N-no, wait, what are you doing”
The knight did not respond but smirked while he started to slowly move the blade trough his skin. John yelled desperately, pleading for help or divine release from his torment, but his cries went unanswered by the heavens, and were deafened by the somber winds.