The golem scavenged the ruins of destroyed fort, removing bricks and boulders with his right hand in hopes of finding his missing left hand. Besides finding some small parts of his armor, like knee protectors and his visor that fell off in the battle yesterday, there was no trace of his arm. After spending the whole day looking for a hand in vain, he sat down outside the castle and gazed into the green valleys below the mountain. A strange sense of emptiness grew inside him as he was puzzled by multiple questions - What now? He doesn’t have an army or a general to serve anymore. It wouldn’t be actually to hard to find someone to fight for, but the problem was his missing arm. Gods only know where it was now - judging by the change of landscape around him, he slept at least a couple of centuries as he was sure that below these mountains there was not even a blade of grass when he saw it last time as the poisonous waste water was discharged without any concern for people and the environment. He couldn’t even remember his last battle, or his-

“Dammit, not again!”

The girl’s question appeared again, annoying him to no end. He couldn’t understand why this question bothered him so much, as if his life depended upon it. He was called killing machine, war machine, platoon destroyer and many many more, but there was no memory of any specific name. He shook his head and got up. He needed distraction and right now his arm was his highest priority. If he can’t find, he could probably ask human blacksmith to make it - if they don’t immediately run away from him.

***

Port town of Southport was small settlement, created by merging many smaller fishing communities set across the eastern shores of lake Peipus. It had a feeble economy, which was mainly supported by fishing and wood production from nearby forests. The port itself looked hideous with its dark wooden rooftops, decaying walls and dirty roads. The only exception was town hall that surpassed all other buildings in height and beauty. Just beside it was a small tavern, similar in design like other houses around it, but when entered inside, one is welcomed by the smell of alcohol and laughing voices. The men mostly talk about fishing and boast about biggest fishes they caught in their life, while women share latest gossips among themselves, but both genders are equally fond of beer, often talking and acting in half-drunk state. The only exception to this merry atmosphere was a group of four newcomers- two men and women- who were quietly chatting in the corner of tavern. Fresh from the bath, and dressed more elegantly than locals, they mostly kept to themselves watched with suspicion by everyone around them. Owner of the tavern, a stout old man with reddish hair and beard approached them, leaning on their table and eyeing them one by one. His eyes stopped on a handsome young man with curly hair dressed in a fanciful blue shirt and leather pants.

“Good evening, travelers. What can I get for you?”

“Four bear mugs” said the young man, reaching for the golden coins in his pocket, which made owner’s eyes widen in surprise. His cold stone face vanished instantly and a broad smile appeared on his face and hurried back to the kitchen, showing them to his cook and serving woman who gasped in awe.

“Wow, these guys are really poor if you can get a reaction like that by showing them a few golden coins.”

“Why would you show off in a forsaken town like this, Eli?” asked Aleks, “You can’t throw our savings like that!”

“Aleks calm down, man. I want for us to enjoy this short break from war as much as possible. Besides don’t you like that new suit that I bought you? And your hair looks amazing.”

Aleks couldn’t argue with that - a clean shirt and pants, neatly trimmed beard and tidy hair was something he didn’t had for years and looking at the window beside him, he could barely recognize this new man.

“Same with you, girls. Both of you look like pretty damsels.” Mendy’s face went red and with a faint smile mumbled “Thank you”,while Roxana scoffed and crossed her arms. She wore relatively simple blue woolen dress with a court neckline and with long and narrows sleeves. Mendy’s dress was green linen dress, almost the same as her previous one but cleaner and softer.

“I hate this dress, it feels so weird.” Roxana grumbled as she rarely wore dresses in her life, always dressed in armor since childhood.

“It looks really good on you, actually.” Mendy commented, making Roxana turn head to side so they don’t see her blushing.

The owner returned with their beers, with his eyes locked on Eliase’s purse.

-“Anything else, ladies and gentlemen? Food, song or erotic company - we have everything to fulfill your needs!”

“That would be all, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” The owner was trying to get his hands on more golden coins, but Elias was returned his purse in his bag, much to the owner’s disappointment.

“Yes, I’m sure.” The owner took the hint and left for kitchen, mumbling to himself.

Elias raised his mug first, followed by Aleks and Roxana, while Mendy hesitated as she was never fond of alcohol.

“C’mon Mendy, it’s your 18th birthday! You’re a woman now!” Mendy’s eyes started glistening like stars and her mouth was wide open.

-“Y-You guys remembered my birthday?”

“Of course, silly! It was actually Roxana’s idea to celebrate here. We would’ve picked a quieter and tidier place buuut this town doesn’t really have a lot of options.”

“T-Thank you, thank you so much!” Mendy raised her mug “Cheers!”

They drank together and remembered their first days in the resistance, their trials and errors and rare happy moments they had in last couple of years. Elias was cracking jokes that went Alekse’s head, which actually made girls laugh more than at jokes themselves; Roxana drank one beer mug after another, making two men ashamed as they were already feeling drunk after fifth one. It took even less for Mendy to get completely drunk and start singing folk songs of her people which now garnered attention from all corners of tavern. The locals were silent at first, then the murmur began spreading across the tavern until few of them stood up and started shouting at Mendy.

-“Stop it! Stop it right now! shouted an old wrinkly man with gray mustache, “How dare you sing that here! We’ve tolerated you so far, and this is how you repay us?!”

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-“Whoa , whoa, hold on old man! What’s deal with you? It’s just a song of her people!”

“Not just any song! A song of human beasts who live in forests with other animals and practice magic! The so called Freemen! The tribe that abandoned humanity and has caused great misery to us and other towns! I suggest you leave immediately before things go south.” Aleks put himself between angry crowd and his friends.

“Okay, hold on, no need for violence. Our friends is just little drunk here. She’ll stop singing immediately.”

“No, no, we want you to get out! Right now!”

The angry crowd started gathering around them, shouting and cursing at Mendy, who couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on due to her drunken state and she was carried through the rear exit by Roxana while Elias and Aleks tried to calm down the crowd to no avail and were promptly kicked with their bags. Mendy was puking on the street and tried to sing again before being shut down by Roxana.

-“Dammit, Aleks!” Elias screamed, " I told you something like this would happen if we sell our weapons!”

“We had no choice! It was necessary to erase any suspicions.” Aleks defended himself.

“And we still got kicked out! We need to take them back. And what was that about anyway? Why were they so upset about Mendy singing?”

" Freemen were never on good terms with anyone around them." said Roxana, holding Mendy's hair while she puked, "Because they always isolated and hostile to anyone who tried to enter their forests, people started making stories of them being half beast capable of magic."

“I’m afraid it’s too late to get our weapons and armor back." said Aleks with a hint of remorse in his voice "The guy I sold them to already left the town. We still have daggers, though.” Elias sat beside Mendy and Roxana, breathing slowly to calm himself down.

“Whatever, we have to find some place to stay.”

“Maybe I can help you with that.”

The voice came from the dark corner of the street, where an extremely tall man dressed in white cloak sat, smoking long wooden pipe. “Name’s Wulfred. I gotta say I’m a big fan of yours.” All of them, except Mendy who was still puking, grabbed the hilt of their daggers, anticipating an ambush.

“I think you mixed us for someone else. We’re no fighters.” said Aleks sternly

“Oh, don’t be so humble! The word about your attack on Republican fort spread quickly. To think that four of you managed to take them all out, even dozen of their Champions, I must say I’m impressed.”

All four of them went silent as they realized what he was talking about.

“Um, about that, you see-” Aleks was briefly cut off by Elias who jumped on this opportunity to spread infamy about resistance fighters.

“Oh, that? Pffft! That was nothing! We actually killed even more, but you know how Republican propaganda works.”

“I see. I’m glad to have met you and your company, Elias Findegan. I would be honored if you would let me join you in your fight against tyranny and oppression.” said Wulfred and bowed his head before Elias, who was taken aback by this gesture. Others were still suspicious of Wulfred’s intentions.

“He seems honest to me.” Mendy whispered to Roxana. Roxana rolled her eyes.

“You’re naive, Mendy. I’ve known Aranyolians for years. They all talk sweet, but if man looks away even for a moment they strike immediately. Backstabbers through and through.” Wulfred’s jaw tightened, but he forced himself to smile—a calm, practiced smile that didn’t reach his eyes. The anger simmered beneath the surface, but he kept it contained.

“Hehehe, true, I can’t deny it. But I can also say that for your tribes, Roxana. You’re Skitanii, aren’t you? Correct me if I’m wrong but your people have quite a nasty streak of backstabbing civilized people, don’t you? For your people only nomadic lifestyle is the real one and others are degenerates, right?”

Roxana gripped her dagger hilt, fuming with rage but Aleks grabbed her wrist firmly but gently, pulling her back.

“There’s no need to make more enemies, especially here.”, he whispered. For a moment, she looked as if she might pull away, but then the tension left her body and she calmed down.

“Aranyolian or not, I still have a hard time trusting a random stranger hiding in the dark corner.”

“Well, that’s a shame. My boys would’ve loved to join you.” Wulfred turned around to leave but Elias stopped him, his eyes sparkling with hope.

“Wait, wait, wait! There’s more of you?”

“Twenty warriors from Aranyolian heartland, all good lancers. They only need a good cause to fight for. But I guess we’ll have to find someone else…”

“No! No,no, no! Just give me a moment with them, please! ”

Elias pulled all three of them to the side, arguing bitterly among themselves about what to do now. Wulfred leaned on the wall, refilled the pipe and smoked with great pleasure as he read a warrant in his hand with a stamp of Republic on it.

“This was much easier than expected. The Republic will award us handsomely for this.”

***

On the plain outside Southport laid stone ruins of an abandoned temple consecrated to gods whose names have been forgotten long time ago as people abandoned religion and rituals of old. It was a step-pyramid that consisted of a series of square terraces with stairways up each of the four sides to the temple on top. Beneath it a dozen tents were erected by the small mercenary group who chatted and drank with local men and women. For the people of Southport these travelers were one of their only escapes from their boring monotonous lives in an isolated city. Women were especially entranced by these mercenaries as these were Aranyolians - tall, silver haired, red eyed race that lives for glory and conquest, completely different to . Aranyolians sang with the locals and drank their beer, but with a hint of reservation and they acted aloof around flirty women - they see themselves as race of pure blood and see race mixing as a great sin. By the midnight, however, locals returned to their homes as they realized Aranyolians were only friendly until they received supplies from Southport merchants. Two mercenaries dressed in heavy armor, chased away a few remaining girls and returned to their camp, laughing at the locals.

“What a strange people, aren’t they, Baldric?” said one of them with

“I bet 20 of us could easily take this city for ourselves. The men in this city look so pathetic.”

“I know right. Even their women are more dangerous than them. They could seduce our men and mix with them. It’s better to just take the gold from their hall and leave.”

They joined the rest of their squad in drinking, gambling and sharing their stories around the campfire. Cheerfulness is not a first quality that comes to mind when describing Aranyolians, but this group was an exception. After setting their camp beside the temple, one of them accidentally discovered a strange giant skeletal arm with parts of armor on it. Nobody knew what was it for, except their leader, Wulfred, who told them that this arm was an equivalent of a gold mine.

“Hey, Baldric, what’s the deal with this arm and its armor?” asked one of them

“No idea, honestly. Perhaps a part of some statue or something like that. Wulfred said Republicans would pay for this even more than for the four rebels.”

“Damn, it’s worth that much!?

“Yes, that and plus the reward for catching rebels will be enough for us to get back to our homes. Cheers boys!

“Cheers!” said all of them in unison and drank their ale, laughing and singing together their war songs.

Everything around them was quiet, save for the sounds of crickets chirping and the occasional hoot of an owl. All seemed peaceful, safe.

Until the ground started to shake.

At first, it was so faint that Baldric thought he might have imagined it, just the aftereffects of too much drink. But then the tremor grew stronger, the earth beneath them vibrating with a low, rumbling growl. The laughter died away as the mercenaries glanced at each other, confusion and unease replacing their earlier bravado. Cups of ale spilled as they scrambled to their feet, hands instinctively reaching for weapons.

And then, from the shadowy forest, a massive shape emerged. Twice the size of a man, it was clad in jagged plates of crimson armor that gleamed in the firelight. Its helmet bore the shape of a horned beast, with glowing red eyes staring out from the darkness. But what truly caught the mercenaries’ attention was its arm—or rather, the lack of one.

Where its right arm should have been, there was only a jagged, empty socket. In its left hand, it wielded a massive axe. The golem’s eyes glowed a menacing red as it took each step, causing the ground to tremble beneath its feet. The golem’s voice rumbled through the night, a deep, metallic growl that echoed with a sense of ancient fury.

“MY ARM! GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING ARM!!!”