Everything was black, was I dead? I tried to open my eyes, but everything remained the same. I couldn’t feel anything. It was only after I thought I had died that a warm red flame flickered in the corner of my vision, and I saw a shadow.

“Here…” I tried to yell, but I could only whisper. “Here!” I strained. My throat burned and tasted like iron. “Help.” Thankfully, this time the light came towards me. After what seemed like an eternity, a boy appeared holding a small lantern, its flickering light burned my eyes.

Kneeling next to me, he set the flame besides him, I did my best to look away, but my neck hurt.

“You’ll be okay, we’ve sent messengers to the duke; he will send help with haste.”

“And the mage?” The magic was engraved in my mind. I still had a hard time believing that was the power of a mage.

We had a second mage who forced him to retreat, and our scouts haven’t found any other enemy forces.

No shit there wasn’t anyone else. Who needed anyone else when you had that. That was the power of the gods. I should return to Bayeux and open a workshop on the Aure. I’d hire Isabelle and Richard, and we’d live a good life.

“You should sleep,” said the boy. “The night will be long.”

It was starting to get colder, and my eyes shut themselves. And so, I dozed off, hoping that tomorrow, the throbbing pain, and cold flashes would have passed.

#

The next day was no different. No, it was worse. In pain, in sights, in spirit. The beautiful blue sky we had yesterday was no more. Grey clouds spanned from East to West. Rain was coming, and looking around, not even half the people alive were up and moving. Everyone else, like myself, were injured, confined to the ground.

I watched as small sheds were raised and people brought the injured under the tents to take cover of the incoming storm.

I don’t know if they’d come for me, but I wouldn’t call out for help. Why bother when beasts like that were out and about? No wonder my father stayed locked up in his workshop. To go out to the courts claiming to be of the same class as those people wouldn’t even be considered a joke. Little gargoyles, what would they do?

“Here, he’s a class holder!”

Was that Eric’s voice? It carried just as well as before. How had he managed to escape the blast? Didn’t I run away before him? I tried to look around for him, but I couldn’t move my neck. Soon, I couldn’t feel the warmth of the earth and I found myself under a brown tarp in a bed and fell asleep again.

#

That night rain poured without end. The soil turned to mud, and the grassland into a marsh. I could see those who weren’t given a spot beneath the canopy turn grey and blue. I could see their chests stop rising, and their eyes close.

I was lucky. All thanks to the class. All thanks to my father. I didn’t want this luck, I didn’t mind dying, but when it faced me, I much rather stay hidden from its gaze.

#

The next morning, shovels were used. Four had passed and more were to come if help wasn’t quick.

#

The day after that three more were thrown in the mass grave which had to be cleared of mud as the terrain slid. At least it masked the smell of decay, protecting us from the plague or any bad sicknesses.

#

On the fourth, one more.

#

On the fifth, five.

#

On the sixth I was starting to feel better; I could move my arms and legs.

Two.

#

“They’ve come!” Yelled someone. Everyone who could move ran to the front of the camp and those who couldn’t, sat up trying to catch a glimpse of the rescue coming over the horizon. And there, under the rising sun, we glimpsed at the shadows of warhorses and knights.

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“They’re here!” Some yelled, others, let out a “Finally,” as they collapsed back into their sick bed, falling unconscious knowing they didn’t have to struggle anymore.

Perhaps I should have done the same but I’d slept too much for the past week and my body wasn’t nearly as beat as the others.

“Show us to any injured class holders first.” The knight at the helm of the escort ordered.

The knight jumped down his mount and followed the man towards this tent, and soon, before me stood a six foot some iron giant. He took off his helmet and I tried my best not to wince. Half his face was melted off. His skin hung over his right eye, and that side of his mouth was devoid of lips.

“My name is Sir Damien de la Justice, knight captain of his excellency Duke Fabien de Normandie’s second knight order, my apologies for our delay. You must be Guillaume de Bandeville. You are quite lucky to be alive.” He spoke with a whistle, as air found tiny gaps between the melted skin over his mouth.

I looked at him and the man next to him, both confused, and slightly terrified.

“No, I’m sorry for the confusion,” said the one who guided the knight here. “This is another class holder who joined our group at the last minute. I believe he’s a new class holder who was just making his way to Rouen.”

“Oh my! My apologies,” he said with a very vivid expression of sincerity, something I didn’t think possible with a melted face. “And Guillaume, where is he?” He asked the other hurriedly.

“Unfortunately, he was killed by the enemy mage—”

“And his body?”

“Sorry?”

“I asked, where is his body!”

“We buried him—.” The man took a step back, scared off by both the knight’s appearance and air.

“Buried. Buried a class holder! Are you ill?” He turned around and motioned to the knights who started to care for the injured before turning back to the kid. “Where?”

“Everyone is in that grave.” He pointed to a mount of dirt.

“Are you trying to get us all killed? How long has he been there?”

“It can’t have been more than a week—”

“Fuck.” He glanced over to the mass grave then to the knights now in formation in three rows of five. “Everyone, grab a shovel, these idiots buried a class holder. We don’t know how long he’s been in there so move quickly before an undead decides to creep out of it.” The knights ran back to their equipment. But the knight captain turned back to me. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but if we don’t deal with this, none of us will escape from this mud field. And just in case something does happen, what is your name?”

“It’s Gregoire de Gargoyle.”

“Nice to meet you De Gargoyle, again, me it’s Damien de la Justesse, but please, call me Damien.”

#

It took the full day for Damien and his knights to dig up the class holder. I don’t know how they managed to identify him as he had long since started to decay. Pulling the body aside, they started to dig his remaining flesh. I couldn’t watch, just the smell made me gag.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for them to retrieve the crystal and we left soon after. It took us two days to reach Rouen.

#

The duchy’s capital’s walls were tall, perhaps five people tall, and the stones that made the structure were so tightly arranged, they had to have been cut by a class holder.

Passing through the gates without issue, I laid eyes on the city for the first time in my life. It wasn’t too different from Bayeux say for the fact twice as many buildings were made of stones and the smell of manure was much stronger. But as we proceeded further into town, there was one very odd thing. Large crews of ten or more people were stationed at every street. They were all digging up the earth and had lying around them large pipes. I didn’t know what it was for.

But as I was taking in the sights, Damien trotted next to me on his warhorse. “How are you feeling De Gargoyle?”

“Just call me Gregoire.” I’d lived too many years in the dead-ends to be treated like a noble. “And I’m fine, thanks for asking, but is there a problem?”

“No, but since you stated that you are a new class holder we need to head to the noble district. That’s where you’ll find the class registration office.”

I nodded, however, before I went off with him, I wanted to thank Eric for bringing letting me come along. But I couldn’t find him. Feeling an itch in my chest, I remembered I had the letter to visit the Richelieu’s merchant company. I could head thereafter.

“Let’s go.”

Doing my best not to fall off, I mounted his horse while the carriage was still moving.

“Hold on tight.”

I did and we raced off through the crowd of people. As soon as they heard the clatter of iron hooves on the stones everyone ran to the sides as not to get trampled. They were quite good at doing it. I did see a kid step back and fall into one of those large holes, thankfully the people around burst out laughing, the holes didn’t seem deep.

Passing through the second layer of walls enclosing the noble district, Damien continued straight to the Lord’s castle.

“Wait, why are we here? Weren’t you supposed to bring me to the class registration office?”

“I’ll bring you there later. Having a class holder that can testify as to what happened is crucial. I’d have brought the one who defended against the attack; however, he’s employed by the merchants and can’t come for a bit. It is not good for a lord to be overbearing when he doesn’t need to be.”

Dismounting from his horse, Damien walked up to the castle gate and a guard dressed in plate armour decorated with a kit displaying the crest of Normandie saluted the guard captain. “Welcome back Sir Damin, but who is the man next to you?”

“This is Gregoire de Gargoyle. He’s a new class holder who was with the caravan attacked near Pont-Audemer.”

“Hmmm.” He nodded, “Sounds good and welcome back.”

Damien proceeded forwards, but as I was about to enter the castle the guard stopped me. Was this the sole criteria as to how they picked guards?

“And I’m Yves de Chatelieux,” said the guard before extending his hand. “Welcome to Rouen. And don’t mind the Lord, he can be quite the handful, people often forget his age since he’s been the duke for ten years, but he’s only twenty.”

“Don’t speak ill of the Lord!” reprised Damien from inside the castle.

“I’m not always insulting him,” the guard yelled back cackling. “Damien doesn’t understand that youth isn’t a bad trait, I think it’s just a way for him to cope with his greying hair. Don’t get me wrong, if you do speak of the lord like me you’ll be hanged, I grew up with him. That’s why I know him so well and I don’t think there’s ever been another like him. He’s special. Follow what he tells you to do, and you’ll see the rise of something more than great. Trust me.”