Year 941,

“You… are you the soldiers of our Messiah? Soldiers of Lazul? Do you come from the West?” the woman asked with wide eyes, as if she could not believe the vision that was before her.

“We are… crusaders,” Lyndabel confirmed, showing the emblem sewn onto the shoulder of her uniform. Although Lyndabel did not know how to translate the word “crusaders” in Kelleric, the symbol of the Lazulian Cross could not be mistaken.

“My name is Elidea,” the woman revealed, as large tears beaded her lashes and then fell, streaking her cheeks. “Oh God, how long I prayed! I thought he had abandoned us! Every single day, every single hour, since those abominable, depraved men docked in our port last year.”

“Listen Elidea. We’re taking you to safety. We are laying siege to the city, soon. Fighting is inevitable, but you are in safety,” Lyndabel tried to explain, struggling to conjugate verbs in anything other than the present tense.

“Are you here to liberate the city of Eularvia? You absolutely must succeed! These monsters have enslaved our men, forced them to work until they die. The women have had an even worse fate, including me. Sometimes they use us as food for their beasts... I... I couldn't take it anymore!”

Although Elidea's account was difficult to follow and did not come particularly unexpected, her tears of relief made Viryl's stomach tighten. For the first time since he had embarked on that suicidal expedition, he felt like he was actually fighting for someone's good. For the first time, he was able to put aside the bitterness he felt when he thought about his condition, which was that of a pawn in the geopolitical games of fat, powerful men he had never even met.

Melfis appeared at the rim of the crater and asked, “What did I miss?”

Viryl motioned for him to wait, so that Elidea could finish.

“I was not alone in the Infidel camp, there were other women with me. Please, save them too!” Elidea begged Lyndabel.

“Yes, we do,” Lyndabel reassured her.

“How great! Do you understand Kelleric?” Melfis asked, amazed.

“Not really, but we make do,” Viryl explained. “We both studied at the Academy of the Spheres of Lazul, and one of the subjects was Kellerian literature. It’s not the same language, but we can understand most of what the girl is telling us.”

As she held out a hand to help Elidea up, Lyndabel translated for Melfis, “Elidea says there were other hostages in the camp. I hope they’re safe despite your prank, Melfis.”

“Oh, even if they're having a hard time right now, they'll be better soon,” Melfis downplayed, pulling a vial of greenish liquid from his belt.

Viryl asked, “An antidote to your poison?”

“Yes,” Melfis confirmed.

“Have you thought about handing it over to the infirmary staff to administer it to the blacksmith?” Lyndabel asked, not even trying to hide her annoyance.

Melfis shrugged. “No, I have to admit, I haven’t considered that possibility at all.”

*****

The knights found five women in the enemy camp. They were not doing well, as Melfis had predicted. They were blue and asphyxiated from the secretions clogging their airways. Seeing the condition of her friends, Elidea seemed to have some doubts about the good faith of her rescuers.

Melfis shrugged and observed, “force majeure.”

Although Elidea could not understand Melfis’s words, his attitude seemed to convince her. By now, she knew the horrors of war all too well, and there was certainly no need to verbally explain to her the concept that the end justifies the means. She simply knelt down and carefully administered the antidote to her companions in misfortune.

After about ten minutes, the women seemed to be doing better, enough to allow them to step down from the raised platforms where they had been chained.

The Suljukian warriors were in the same condition as the prisoners, but their suffering would not be eased by any antidote.

Melfis suggested, “We should behead them right away, or they will come back to bother us.”

“You’re kidding I hope. If we, crusaders and devout Zephyrians, also start committing atrocious war crimes by summarily executing our prisoners, will we still have the moral high ground to call ourselves better than the Infidels?” Lyndabel objected with disgust.

Melfis didn’t quite agree, since the League general’s instructions were exactly that —take no prisoners and kill all captured enemies right away— but he preferred to let it slide. He simply replied, “Oh, sorry. You’re definitely right, dear.”

Melfis gallantly followed Lyndabel’s instructions, and together with Viryl tied the Suljukians up with cordage salvaged from the remains of the camp. After all, they were mortally poisoned, and without medical care they would not be able to live to see another day. Of course, he did not tell Lyndabel that little detail.

After searching what remained of the camp, the group had a decision to make: either return to the beach where they had landed, following the already established and presumably safe route back to bring the freed hostages to safety, or continue uphill toward the esplanade before the city gates.

Lyndabel spoke first, “It’s time to turn back. We don’t know what we’ll find up ahead, and it could be dangerous for the girls.”

“Oh, come on. We’re almost there, there’s no point in turning back now,” Melfis replied quickly.

“I agree with him. I don’t know how many enemies are still lurking in the woods, but if we pay attention to our formation we should make it just fine,” Viryl added.

Lyndabel was not persuaded. “Melfis, you’ve run out of your Fuligine Stone and can’t be of any help to us. And you, Viryl, are about to run out of it. If things get complicated I won’t be able to protect all eight of you.”

“They might ambush us on the way back, too,” Melfis argued.

“But we cleared the way to get here!” Lyndabel said.

The newly rescued Kellerian girls were whispering among themselves. Viryl noticed and suggested, “Maybe we should ask them what they think.”

Lyndabel huffed, and braced herself for another slurred translation, “Our troop is on the south beach. Army, directed in front of the citadel, perhaps not yet arrived. Do you feel it’s safe to go to the citadel? Do you want protection of the troop? Where are we going?”

Elidea strained to understand what Lyndabel was trying to convey, and asked for confirmation, “Are you trying to tell us that we have a choice between heading to the south beach or to the clearing in front of the citadel, because your army is stationed in those positions?”

“Yes,” Lyndabel confirmed.

Elidea consulted with her friends, and then relayed their answer to Lyndabel, “The Eularvia clearing is a hundred yards beyond the camp. If you were headed there, we have no objection to following you.”

Lyndabel tried to explain, “Our allies are not here yet, perhaps. Perhaps turn back anyway.”

Elidea insisted, “It’s no problem… if we have to go back, we will. I assure you, the clearing is really close and we don’t think there are any more invaders along the way. We don’t want to change your plans: you saved us, and we already owe you a lot.”

“Well, you heard her,” Viryl replied.

Lyndabel sighed. The majority had decreed.

*****

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The group moved north, toward the clearing of Eularvia. When they arrived at their destination Lyndabel was relieved to find out that Jossolt, Ollante, and the four hundred soldiers accompanying them were already there, setting up a makeshift camp.

Jossolt seemed a little annoyed that they were all late and when he saw three of his allies appear he seemed to be beaming with joy. He quickly headed for the newly arrived knight and looked over their shoulders, into the thick of the forest.

“Well, where are Lorana and the others?” Jossolt asked in dismay.

“Only the three of us went ahead, to clear the way of the Ferenkelts,” Lyndabel explained.

“Oh… you’re all taking longer than I expected,” Jossolt muttered, his face instantly darkening.

“Hey, Halfcannon, give us a break. We’re not all one-man armies like you,” Melfis protested.

“Unfortunately, you’re right, Jawbreaker,” Jossolt conceded disheartenedly, then looked up and only then seemed to notice Elidea and her companions, “Who are these damsels?”

“Inhabitants of the island, we rescued them from a Suljukian camp. They were holding them in slavery, and they had a really hard time,” Lyndabel explained to Jossolt.

“What else would you expect from those filthy Infidels?” Jossolt retorted with disdain.

“Can we leave them here at the camp? We need to go get Lorana, and we’d rather not bring any civilians with us,” Viryl asked.

“Of course, the soldiers will be happy to take them under their protection,” Jossolt replied, trying to force a smile.

“Good. If you don’t mind, I’ll go get a piece of Fuligine Stone from the supplies now. My Exoplion is out of juice,” Melfis added casually, and slipped away from the group.

Jossolt watched him go, but didn’t reply. His eyes held the disapproval of a father’s for a particularly imbecile son.

Melfis strode over to a crate Jossolt’s troops had carried into the clearing and began rummaging through it. Ollante was directing the construction of a watchtower, but when he noticed Melfis approaching he stopped his occupation and went to talk to him. “Hey, Jawbreaker,” he called, “Did you happen to meet Hotcap on your way here?”

Melfis lifted his face from the crate and looked at Ollante with goofy eyes. “How do you know?”

“As we reached the walls of the citadel, explosions lit up the sky to the south. I assume they were Brombelt's spells but I don't see him with you.”

“Yes, they were. Unfortunately, he's no longer with us,” Melfis replied, disheartened.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that unluckily he died. There are a lot of Ferenkelt in these woods, and Ferenkelt are dangerous, you know."

“First time I hear that,” Ollante retorted sarcastically, mildly annoyed. “Now how about you stop trying to be funny and give me a serious answer?”

Melfis sighed, then began to tell a story that was mostly made up, “Viryl, Lyndabel, and I were chased by a pack of Black Goiter Mastiffs to an Infidel outpost, where we encountered Brombelt who was being chased by a Silk Fur Lynx and some Thorned Boars.”

“Thorned Boars?” Ollante asked doubtfully.

“Yeah, Thorned Boars,” Melfis continued, “We joined forces, but there were too many enemies. The Suljukians were attacking us relentlessly from the battlements of their camp. Eventually Brombelt lost his temper and set off a series of explosions. However, in doing so, he used up his Fuligine Stone. Two monsters jumped on him and started tearing him apart. I immediately rushed to his aid. You know, I felt guilty since he had run out of his Fuligine Stone partly because of me. But I didn’t make it on time.”

“Oh, so that’s how it went.”

“I swear,” Melfis lied shamelessly.

Ollante didn’t buy it, Melfis understood that immediately. Yet the knight didn’t press with further questions. “Well, these things can happen in war, I suppose,” Ollante conceded in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Melfis nodded. Then he turned his back and waved, “We have to go get Lorana, see you in a couple of hours, Bald!”

Ollante returned the greeting with a bizarre remark, “Well, be careful. The Infidels might also have some sheep Ferenkelt among their ranks, and that one could kill you for good.”

Melfis caught Ollante's subtle sarcasm, and walked away sneering.

*****

The three knights reached the beach in less than half an hour, and there were no further clashes along the way.

Despite the calm walk, a macabre surprise awaited them.

When they reached their destination, the knights found themselves faced with a pile of corpses hidden by a shroud of darkness and very few survivors. The mangled bodies of the pikemen were roughly arranged in a line, and behind the line of pikemen was a mess of severed limbs and heads of artillerymen and engineers.

There were also the remains of two Ferenkelts. The first, a Black Goiter Mastiff, seemed to have been slain while trying to get past the pikemen's defenses. The second, a Reaper Mantis, lay on the pile of dismembered bodies.

Lorana sat on what remained of the mantis. Upon quick inspection under the scarce sidereal light she seemed calm and collected, despite being at the epicenter of the massacre and covered in grime. Lyndabel, with her echolocation spell, was the first to realize that she was not in good shape at all. She had scars on her neck and face, and her left arm and right leg were missing. The moans and screams of the surviving crusaders echoed all around her.

Lorana looked up when she heard the footsteps of her three allies on the shoreline and began in a trembling voice, “It seems we miscalculated… I was not enough to protect them.”

“Oh, Lorana… your arm, your leg — ” Lyndabel tried to reply, but Lorana burst into tears, interrupting her. Viryl and Melfis looked closer, and to their shock they noticed her missing limbs.

“They… they are scary beings. This is exactly what I wanted so badly to avoid. Why? Why did it have to end like this? Why me?” Lorana sobbed.

Viryl thought back to his encounter with the mantis. If Melfis hadn’t been there to help, it would have been even worse for him. The fact that Lorana had managed to get through that alone was almost a miracle.

“It’s strange,” Viryl said, “we killed every beast we encountered along the way. How did those two monsters get to the beach?”

“Think about it, for the first quarter of the way there, we encountered no resistance. Maybe the beasts patrolling the shore caught the scent of the soldiers and headed here instead of attacking us,” Melfis speculated.

“I don’t know how it happened… a few minutes after you departed those two creatures came galloping out of the forest. I immediately ordered the pikemen to line up, and I ran forward. I engaged the Mastiff, and… it was horrible. He didn’t seem to care about me. He ignored my attacks, and just lashed at the spears. I finally managed to kill him, but the Mantis had already jumped over the front line and… with those damned blades — ”

“Hey Lorana, what happened happened but it’s over now. And you should be proud of yourself, because you stood up against those beasts. The survivors only made it thanks to you,” Melfis tried to comfort her, showing unusual tact. He succeeded in his intent, because Lorana, still sitting on the pile of corpses, stopped sobbing and looked down at him. Locking into her gaze Melfis added, “Jossolt and Ollante have reached the esplanade in front of the citadel and have started setting up camp. Can you follow us?”

*****

Only forty men had survived, at least ten of them were seriously injured. Others were still breathing, but were already on the verge of death. Melfis decided to leave them to their fate, and Lyndabel could not oppose that decision. It was unthinkable to carry them all to safety.

The healthy ones loaded the wounded in acceptable conditions onto makeshift stretchers. Lyndabel took Lorana under her shoulder to accompany her along the bumpy path. The group marched slowly among the obstacles of the forest, and it took them more than an hour to reach the clearing in front of Eularvia.

Once at their destination, Melfis immediately went to Jossolt to communicate his return. Passing through the camp, the knight noticed that the number of soldiers had slightly increased. And Jossolt was talking very excitedly in his tent. The lamp inside it drew three silhouettes on the fabric, that of Jossolt and that of two female knights.

“Can I?” Melfis asked, moving aside the flap that covered the entrance.

“Please, at least give me good news, Jawbreaker!” Jossolt begged him, almost shouting. The veins on his forehead were swollen and his face was red. Inside the tent were Marzela and Alvira. Even though the commander was noticeably mad the two of them seemed as fresh as daisis.

“Why, is there bad news?” Melfis asked, astonished.

“Yeah, Mishiff is dead and of the two hundred soldiers I entrusted to Alvira, she only managed to bring me sixty. Ollante told me that Brombelt is dead. That’s crap! You’re all falling like flies, damn it!” Jossolt howled, almost tearing his hair out.

“Well, I don’t want to add insult to injury, but we only brought forty and ten of them are cooked. Oh, and Lorana had a bad time too. She lost an arm and a leg. She won’t be able to fight,” Melfis listed the numbers as casually as if he were taking inventory of a haberdashery.

“Fuck! You’re all morons! I’m the biggest moron of all, though! This is what happens when I let you free to do things your way! This army is a joke!” Jossolt shouted, banging his fists repeatedly on a table in the center of the tent. Then he began to pant like a dog in a hot summer.

“Now, in my defense, I’d like to say that I tried, but Mishiff looked like a fish out of water,” Alvira said in her languid, sing-song voice, moments after Jossolt had finished shouting.

Everyone turned to her. Alvira had delivered her line with excellent comic timing, and Melfis would have laughed, except that there was nothing to laugh about.

Jossolt inhaled with a whistle, exhaled, and then blurted out, “You know what, fuck this. Let’s get this over with and get the hell off this shitty island.”

Thirty-two years later, day two of Neviticus, 11:25 p.m., Meridania’s red-light district,

Hammerless stood up, still shaking from the blow he had received. The drunks and beggars who were milling around the alley fled like rats in a lamplight.

“Oh… you son of a bitch… you shouldn’t have—” Hammerless began to say in a low voice, halfway between a growl and a gasp.

Melfis didn’t let him finish and charged again, aiming to land a devastating punch to the solar plexus that would knock him out for good.

This time, however, Hammerless managed to get ahead of him, and cast the “Telekinetic Clamp” spell on him. Melfis remained frozen in his momentum, his fist extended forward, a few inches from Hammerless’ abdomen.

After materializing his ethereal weapons, ironically two small hammers, Hammerless laughed heartily and prepared for his retaliation.

For a moment Melfis thought he could overcome the constraint of Hammerless' spell, and tried to move away from the enemy's reach, trying with all his might to move his legs.

Despite his superhuman strength Melfis failed, and Hammerless landed a series of rapid hammer blows on his helmet. Before being so stunned that he lost consciousness, Melfis managed to cast the "Toxic Cloud" spell in front of him, which enveloped Hammerless in its blanket.

The midnight blue armored knight immediately made a sideways dash to get out of the thick poisonous fog, but, taken by surprise, he was unable to avoid a quick inhalation before the anaerobic effort. He emerged from the brown cloud trailing wisps of smoke and prepared to cast a powerful offensive spell, but before he could do so he fell to his knees and began to vomit. The foul-smelling yellow liquid seeped through the cracks in his helmet.

Melfis tried again to break the telekinetic grip with his brute strength, and finally succeeded.

As the heavy gas sank toward the ground, falling like a thin sheet, Melfis cracked the bones in his neck: the bastard had given him a splitting headache. He glared at Hammerless, who was sprawled on the cobblestones of the alley in a puddle of vomit, and then began to kick him in the head. He didn't go easy at all, and kept kicking and kicking, until his ethereal armor dissolved.