“You did this!”

“You were the one who gave the order!”

Marcus had broken. Seeing all of his men being slaughtered in an instant had gotten to him, not that I blamed him for that. But his assertions that I was actually the one at fault were ludicrous. I took a huge risk by attacking the branch myself. I was lucky that Stigma was telling the truth. Since then the magical foliage had withered away, leaving the husk of a normal looking tree behind and my body unmolested.

“If I didn’t do something, we were all going to die to that fucking thing.”

“As much as it pains me to admit, I agree with the mercenary,” Cranston said, “It killed them instantly. The range and effect of its magic was devastating.”

“I didn’t know if it would work, if you’d just waited a damn moment I could have made a better choice.”

Marcus wasn’t having it, “You waited on purpose. The moment I get back, I’m shouting what you did from the rooftops. Everyone’s going to know what you did to my boys. I’m going to find that Inquisitor and tell him all about you.”

“He already knows I’m here…” I cocked back my arm and swung at Marcus, clocking him around the jaw and sending him over onto his back. He was stunned. “It’ll be better for everyone if you never leave here.”

“Why?!” he demanded, spitting out blood from his maw.

“Calling the Inquisitors here is signing the death warrants of hundreds of innocent people. For what? To get me?”

“Then give yourself up-“

“I’d never suggest such a stupid idea to you, Marcus. How about you gut yourself with that sword? No? Not biting?”

He shook his head, too defeat to get back up and fight back. Adrian grabbed my arm and pulled me away, “Ren, please. I promise you – we won’t even be on the same continent by the end of this week. Don’t kill him.”

Adrian being the one to try and break things up was a surprise. Fernwell had been silent the entire time. Was it worth it? Fernwell would probably have a word or two to say to me if I murdered him like this. We’d have to leave Pascen, and if I did that – Benadora wouldn’t pay us for all our hard work.

“…Fine.” I sheathed Stigma and backed away. Marcus tore at the grass with his hands in frustration. I didn’t like killing people if I didn’t have to. Perhaps some people saw me differently. What Marcus was threatening to do would hurt a lot of people. This was a group of people who murdered and pillaged at the mere suggestion of a ‘corruptive influence.’

Cranston clapped his hands together, “How about we take a sample of the tree and head home?” The shitstorm we just witnessed and the destruction of the tree had settled the debate. I was giving him way too much credit. The more likely explanation was that Cranston didn’t want me to kill him either.

One of Cranston’s lackeys procured a small glass jar from his pocket and approached the now withered tree. He chipped away some of the bark using nothing more than his own fingers, sealing it inside with a cork lid. The other two collected samples of their own from the ground. The tree guardian had disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing behind. Was it made of pure magic?

Fernwell asked Marcus to say his last words to his deceased comrades. He bitterly approached the mutilated bodies and stripped them of their most valuable possessions. Unlike me, he presumably intended to hand them back to their families when he told them the bad news, and not to sell them on the black market for cheap.

“I can feel the ether flowing over me,” Cali observed, “Destroying the branch has returned things to normal.”

“I hope so. Stigma was oddly insistent about making me do it.”

“Allow me to offer a counter-point, anarchy, pestilence and plague would make our journey more exciting.”

The earnestness with which Cali declared such dark thoughts was starting to become more amusing than terrifying. No matter what happened, I could always count on her wishing it was worse.

Time to go home.

----------------------------------------

“So… that’s one of those legendary swords huh?”

Fernwell had dropped back to the rear of the convoy, seemingly just to pester me about Stigma.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Yes.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“On a dead body.”

Fernwell had a strained smile on his face. He was expecting more.

“There was nothing special about it, Fernwell. I found it and I picked it up, what do you think happened?”

“There’s a lot of legends about them! I just thought that there’d be a grand old story behind it.”

“You know what happens to the average guy who picks this up? They get hunted down and murdered by Inquisitors, or they get eaten and die. The guy I found was lucky enough to die in a battle instead.”

“What does that make you? You’re still standing.”

“…I’m a rogue.”

“Right. You’re ‘just a rogue.’ There’s no way that there’s something special about you.”

“You implying something?”

“Come on, do I need to spell it out? You’ve got the armour, the weapon. You’re not a rogue. You’re out here killing giants and taking names. By your own admission, most people don’t last this long. You’ve got something that they didn’t.”

“Luck.”

He tapped the side of his head with a finger, “Luck can be the difference between a peasant and a King.”

“There’s nothing lucky about having this thing with me. It’s a huge target painted onto my back, and there’s other consequences to it too.” Some of which I hadn’t fully realized just yet. Adel’s comment about my insane stat growth and the changes to my appearance loomed large in the back of my mind. Stigma was changing me. “You don’t seem to bothered by it.”

Fernwell smirked, “I loved hearing those stories when I was a kid. I got this silly idea that I wanted to be one of the people who used those swords. So I trained to be a knight and got a job with the Duke. Never thought I’d see one with my own eyes.”

“Just don’t try to steal it, she gets jealous…”

Fernwell was confused, “Huh?”

“Nothing. Bad joke.”

“You’re one of those guys who names their weapon?”

I ignored it and continued to march on. We had a lot of ground to cover to get back to Pascen’s keep. While the effects of our actions wouldn’t be seen right away, the number of giants in the area would drop over time as people killed them. Without the strange winds guiding them south, their numbers would no longer replenish and cause further damage. It was good for the giants too. A huge excursion of young giants from the north would negatively impact their population; not that they had the minds to comprehend a concept like that.

I could feel Marcus glaring at me. Every time I looked over he glanced away like I was about to snap at him. This guy was going to be trouble – I guess you really couldn’t judge a book by their cover. The rosy-cheeked drunkard I’d met at the tavern had turned into the real problem during this trip.

I stuck with Adrian to make sure that he wasn’t struggling with the long journey and rugged terrain. We had a more pleasant conversation about our respective backgrounds. He was especially interested in learning how I met Cali, and why she was travelling with me. Ashmorn were rare on the continent. It was difficult to travel between the three Duchies and the Ashmorn Kingdoms. The seas were treacherous and airships were obscenely expensive and experimental.

During the trip we stopped three times to rest and feed ourselves. The meals were scant on luxury. Consisting mainly of trail mix, bread, nuts and dried fruit. You were never left wanting for clean water in Pascen, a bucket of it was dumped over your head every waking moment of the day. The drive to get back home was strong enough that we only stayed for a short respite.

I had to let out a cry of relief as we finally laid eyes upon the towering spires of the city. I wanted nothing more than to rent a hotel room and crash in a (mostly) warm and dry bed. But we still had business to sort out first. We had to report the results of our expedition to the Duke. This was where the real bullshit would happen, if any. Cranston needed the Duke to buy his story wholesale to get paid.

Fernwell’s eye-witness account could put the matter to bed. I didn’t know how reliable he was. Cranston could have paid him to lie while I wasn’t looking. There were too many variables for me to control. Hoping for the natural course of justice to occur was a waste of faith. Nothing about these systems worked in the way they should. Criminals released, innocent people jailed, and bad actors pocketing huge payouts from lies and deceit. As we gathered in the keep’s courtyard for our debrief, the Duke exited the building to meet with us.

“Fernwell, what happened to the men?”

“We… ran into some kind of creature at the location Benadora specified.”

“Surely the work of her dark magic,” Cranston added. I had to stop myself from blasting him with a right hook too.

“Nay. It was clear that the presence of an unusual magical tree was the culprit,” Fernwell insisted, “I am liable to believe that Lady Benadora was telling the truth.”

The Duke grumbled, “I see. Let me hear the full details of this excursion. Adrian, Cranston, Fernwell, if you please?”

Adrian turned back to me with a confident smile, “Thank you Ren! Meet me back at our house tomorrow. Hopefully Master Benadora will be there to give her own thanks for your assistance.”

“Sure.”

The men followed the Duke inside the building in a single-file line, the doors slamming shut behind them. Before I could make my own move to leave, Marcus jumped in front of me and blocked my way. “Don’t think that this is over, boy. You’ve got hell to pay for every drop of blood spilled out there.”

I scowled and stepped up to meet him, eye to eye. “Really? Do you think you’re good enough to beat me?” What he didn’t know was that I held back on my punch. The angry black and purple splotch covering his left cheekbone was more than I could have ever caused before I took Stigma.

“What’s an amateur like you going to do versus me? I was fighting battles when you were just a baby in your mother’s womb!”

“You’ve made some bad decisions today Marcus. You should let that order to your men be the last one.” I pushed him away and walked past. He spat and swore at me, unable to offer any resistance for the time being.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Cali queried, “He may report us to the inquisitors.”

“Adel isn’t going to do shit. And we’re out of here soon anyway. Let him talk, it’ll make him feel better.”

I’d run out of empathy for him. That was human nature. Always butting heads and looking for people to blame.

We’d started our descent into being nothing more than enemies.