Odd. Truly odd.

              The siege was going well but there was this inauspicious omen lurking in the depths of my heart. My pulse started to pick up and drops of sweat trickled down my face. I looked at the walls of the fort and calmed down. It’s fine, it’ll be over soon.

              Bang and the walls fell.

              “CHARGE!” I yelled, pointing my sword forwards. The cavalry, with me included, dashed past the infantry and into the opening on the walls. The archers on the walls were shot down en masse by our own, leaving us protected from any unwanted arrows. Little by little, the enemy forces started to try and close up the wall with men. Armed with pikes, the men would have posed a problem if they were organized or bountiful in number. Luckily for us, they didn’t tick any of the requirements.

              A couple of meters before the walls, I barked, “Archers, FIRE!” Of course, I had no control over the archer divisions but I had a few men in the cavalry with bows and arrows. The mounted archers took aim. Their arrows shone green. Swoosh, the volley was released. Damn, that felt good.

              Their death throes fell upon my ear, telling me to charge. By that time my men already knew what to do. Our horses galloped and the hole neared. There was nothing blocking our path to glory. In a moment, we dashed past the wall and into the encampment. The scorched and crumpled grass welcomed us and I said, “Archers, fire on the enemy! Spears, protect the archers! The rest, come with me.”

              I heard a ‘tch’ from one of the archers but it was all the same to me. Though they wouldn't get the credit for killing the old man, at least they had helped let the true hero win. I pointed towards the fortified tower in the middle and roared, “ONWARDS!”

              The remaining cavalry cheered and rode towards the ominous tower belonging to Him. The final battle was nearing. At the end of every battle, at the end of every war, there will be those praised as heroes. I will be a hero. No, I am a hero.

              But, as to be expected of every good fortune, there comes an obstacle.

              “Aargh!” A scream erupted. Not from the enemy but from my troops. Though dying in the battlefield was normal, what worried me was that I felt like there were more deaths coming.

              Thud. Thud. Thud.

              In rapid succession, my men started to fall. Arrows had pierced their way into their organs, felling them with ludicrous speed.

              “Take cover!” I yelled, riding into cover while quickly scanning the surroundings. After I settled myself safely behind a wooden shack, which was probably their barracks, I noticed the behaviour of the enemy archers on the walls. A “Hoh?” escaped my lips as I watched the spectacle. Their bows aimed not at the archers behind them nor troops pouring into the hole but rather to us, the brave cavalry unit famed in the empire.

              “So they want to take at least the best of the best down with them eh?” A sneer crept its way onto my face unseen to the world as my visor held its position covering my face. So they want to kill us? I must admit, quite a few died to your arrows but not anymore. You won’t get a chance to.

              I looked away and soon enough, I heard the screams of agony I expected. Good. At least our archers weren’t as useless as them. Leaving your backs facing the enemy? Suicidal.

              “Horses, continue on!” I howled out. Once more, we galloped towards the tower. This time, unhindered.

              However, we were separated in our charge due to overenthusiasm of some.

              “Just me?” I commented. I was alone at the foot of the tower. It seemed that I had sped up too quickly. “Slowpokes…” I pushed on the wooden door, only to find out that it was barred. Imbuing wind magic to my sword, I sliced the door apart with apparent precision. However, the moment I broke the door apart, a man wielding a short sword dashed at me from inside.

              Weak. Was this all that the Scourge amounted to? Needless to say, I stayed unharmed while my attacker lost his head.

              I started to climb the stairs as it was brutally obvious spot in the empty tower. Soon enough, I was led to the top of the stairs. There was a door blocking my way. Beyond it was probably the room of the Scourge.

              Breath in. Breath out. Nervousne— no, excitement broiled in my blood. Arva the Scourge, it will be an honour for your blood to decorate my medals. But as I stood facing the door, I thought to play about for a moment.

              Facing the door, I willed the wind to cover my left hand. Soon enough, my hand shone light green. “Begone…”

              The door exploded and I played my part as the hero.

              “Your vile misdeeds have gone on for far too long, Arva!”

                                  *** *** ***

              I must say, this language barrier has been a real pain in the arse. Probably because of that, my hands were shackled on the ‘cuffs’ of the ol’ medieval interrogation chair. They had those fancy ones with those spikes that seemed really unnecessary as they didn’t even hurt. But they did feel quite massaging.

              A creak, presumably from a door, notified me of a visitor coming in my rather cramp temporary shelter. Quiet steps shuffled their way directly behind my chair. I heard the breathing of just one person behind me. Hoh? What ever happened to the other dude? Normally, when I was visited before, they always came in pairs along with a bunch of awfully scary looking toys. By the way, I called them toys because they did no harm to me whatsoever.

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              Anyway, the lone person muttered something in a really foreign sounding language that consisted of what seemed like a combination of random consonants jumbled together with little to no vowels. Also, there were a lot of gagging and nasally sounds. Really, what went into the mind of the guy that made this language? It sounds like absolute gibberish.

              “Hahaha,” I laughed. I mean he probably said a joke, right? Don’t want to leave the guy hanging like that one psycho last time. Also, laughter wasn’t really something you could change no matter what language you knew.

              My laughter was met with silence. Oh dear. It seemed that my assumption was wrong. He probably said something serious but who cared. It wasn’t like I could tell what he was saying.

              “Can you understand me know?”

              “…”

              Wait what? Though the man behind me spoke with a moderate Russian accent, what he spoke was still understandable English. I pondered on how he managed to quickly learn English, drifting into the phase of what may be called ‘zoning out’.

              “Hey, answer my question,” demanded the Russian, pulling me back into reality. His voice was coarse like an old man but I couldn’t really tell if he was because y’know… he hasn’t shown his face… like at all.

              “Before I answer that,” I muttered. “Mind showin’ me your face, Mr. Russian?”

              A light chuckle erupted from the Russian man behind me. Why’s he laughing? Don’t tell me that he’s sick in the head too…

              “Well,” said Mr. Russian. “I guess that answers my question.”

              Did it? Oh yeah, it did. Whoops. But wait, if he’s a sicko like that other psycho, won’t he try to swing a sword at me next? However, my ingenious mind came up of a plan to defuse a possible sword swinging event.

              “So,” I uttered, looking at the stone ceiling of my room. “Nice weather today, eh?”

              I waited for a while, hoping to get a reaction. I closed my eyes in anticipation. The seconds seeped away, leaving me with not so dreadful expectations. Facing no answer for quite some time, I slowly pried open my shut eyes. What I first saw when my eyes were opened was… y’know… quite surprising. In front of me was a short and bald old man with a very thick grey beard. His bulbous nose was flanked by his outlined cheeks, his dark brown eyes peeped through his squinted eyelids with heavy wrinkles stretched all over his face. The old man wore a white robe embroidered with goldish lines at the hems of it.

              “Well,” said the old man with a familiar Russian accent. Oh, Mr. Russian. “I do agree.”

              Dazed, I asked, “I’m sorry but what exactly do you agree to?”

              “The weather,” he replied, grinning like a silly boy. Looking up the same stone ceiling that I was looking up at earlier, he muttered, “Though I doubt that you’d see it here.”

              Did it work? Or not? Is he like that other psycho? Mr Russian, as I called him before, looked at me with a hint of mirth in his eyes. Ah, what was I thinking, ‘course he’d be nuts!

              “Anyway,” he stated, replacing the laughter in his eyes with seriousness. “I have a proposition for you.”

              Proposition? The gears in my mind started turning. I started thinking up of what type of proposition it was but my mind started to wander towards the dramas that I watched that had similar ‘proposition-giving’ opportunities. In all those dramas that I watched—which, by the way, could by counted on one hand—all of those so called ‘propositions’ ended up with something going awfully wrong.

              “I refuse,” I bluntly declared. I figured that I really didn’t need a pain-in-the-arse favour to do.

              Mr. Russian looked me in the eye with the ‘serious eye’. My back started to produce some sweat because I really wasn’t good with the ‘serious eye’ that always seemed to pop up when someone asks for something. But as soon as he looked at me, he burst out laughing.

              Wiping his ‘laughing tears’ away, he managed to voice, “You’re a funny guy. But honestly, hear me out.”

              Due to his insistence, I meekly motioned him to say whatever his so called proposition was. Inside, my mind was actively hoping for the fulfilment of my wish which was: Please don’t let it be a big job.

              “Work for me.”

              Okay… Not at all what I expected but I guess this is a pretty good outcome? My face contorted into a strange smiling expression. I couldn’t see my expression but I could feel that my eyes subconsciously narrowed while my cheeks along with my lips twitched uncontrollably. My mind wandered off somewhere in the distance, figuratively by the way, as I wondered if he was some sort of bigshot from those notorious black collar companies. Ah, that makes sense. Of course it must be black collar company, otherwise he wouldn’t even think of hiring an underage person.

              “Look, Mr. Ominous Russian,” said I, putting on a face of (fake) courage. Though I really wanted to give him a piece of my mind rather bluntly, my tone changed to a really polite one once I saw a rather ominous spark in his eyes.  “Though I do think that I would be job hunting in the future, I’m still waaaaay too young to be working like a responsible adult in what I believe is a very respected company. Furthermore, I am still very inexperienced thus I doubt that I would qualify in this company. Honestly, I really am happy to be invited however I feel that I am simply not fit for this job.”

              In one breath, I unloaded a bunch of excuses and flattery. Heck, I even spoke like some goody two shoes. Yuck. I focused on Mr. Scary Russian’s face and noticed that the smile on his face looked a lot like a demon’s. Oh dear, oh dear… I may have slightly shot myself in the foot…

              “Join or die?” Mr. Russian suddenly said those words with the coldest smile that I had ever seen. Chills sprang onto my spine, making my back shiver a bit. I felt a bit lightheaded because of the proclamation but I had the feeling that Mr. Russian truly meant his words. When I thought about it, wasn’t he probably a Mafioso? Didn’t really know why he wore a robe but, hey, to each their own.

              “U-um, Mr. Russian, I think I’d like to join.” I stuttered a bit at the start but I smoothened it out pretty quickly. My mind’s gears kept on tumbling and turning, leaving me confused on what I should actually do. Though even if I did gain control over my mind I would really doubt that I could have done anything. You know why? ‘Cause I already said my reply… Oh gahd! Couldn’t I have collected my thoughts first before talking?! Either way, I already said it… Looking at him with my best puppy eyes, I pouted and attempted to retract my previous statement with, “Whoops! My mouth just moved on its ow—”

              “Now, now, don’t be shy,” the Russian Mafioso whispered with a relaxed smile planted on his face. His mouth angled in a slight upwards curve that would have looked like an angel’s smile to everyone aside from me. I didn’t really know whether it was just a trick of the light but I was pretty sure that his eyes shone with madness. “You’ll absolutely love it here.”

              Hehehe, to anyone who hears my thoughts, please know that a certain Russian Mafioso has abducted me. Help… Please… Honestly, I’m too young to work!