Alaster summoned Nightmare and hopped on. Giving a silent order, his army stayed in the forest, continuing to clear out the Monsters and allowing the Undead Workers to cut down the trees. While his agreement with Galmore was just to clear out the Monsters, progress was slow enough that it the Undead Workers could cut down many of the trees before the army moved on.

Of course, the actual road builders would have to cut down a few others and remove all the stumps before they could begin flattening and reinforcing the road. Alaster did not mind helping them, purely because it was more experience for his Undead Workers, even if he hardly ever used them.

As they worked and killed, Alaster rode forward slowly, the snow crunching beneath Nightmare’s hooves. A breeze from the north blew at his cloak. A simple black cloak that doubled as a cape when he needed to use his hands and that one of the people around Azemar’s home gifted Alaster, unaware that when he was under the effects of [Dead Embrace] he did not feel the cold.

However, the kind old lady, who had dragged Alaster to help her move and carry things around for her on numerous occasions, was insistent that he wear it so he did not catch a cold.

The lady was nearing the end of her life, never really caring about growing stronger. Perfectly content with her fleeting life surrounded by family and friends. Alaster’s parents had always taught him to be respectful and kind to the elderly, and he did not have the heart to refuse the willful woman.

Unfortunately, while none of the Monsters within the forest had truly posed much of a danger to him, the edges of their attacks had damaged the cloak. Its edges were cut, burned, and frayed. Yet he kept it on, refusing to take it off despite its impracticality.

Alaster had always been a sentimental person. One who felt the emotions of others more keenly than most. As a child, it had helped him avoid and defuse arguments, helping him get closer to others. After that night which he cursed, his mind had broken, losing the ability to empathize or care.

He had used his shattered mind, focused it into his revenge. As he grew stronger, he became surrounded by people who cared and worried about him. People who treated him not as an enemy or a freak, but as a normal person, if perhaps a little damaged.

Slowly, over the years, he had grown into a young man, the pieces of his mind slowly coming together and fusing once more, but forever changed. For it was impossible for an emotion to be felt so strongly for so long to have left no mark upon them.

Spending time among the people of Galmore, who saw him as a normal, if stronger, person, had refined his psyche. It had helped him learned about people once more. And with it, he took a piece.

In his Ring of Holding, Alaster still kept the Light Crystal, holding the image of his family. The magic had long since faded away through time and abuse, despite the longing care Alaster had given it. But still he kept it, refusing to leave it behind, despite its use as little more than a paperweight.

He still kept the necklace talisman that Isabella had gifted him on his birthday. A necklace enchanted to dampen the sounds he made slightly. The enchantment was minor, so minor was its effects that it only helped him hide from beings with weakened senses to begin with. Not that he bothered to hide anymore. He had an army of Undead backing him, and much more effective ways to conceal himself if he desired.

Yet he kept it to remember. He kept the Crystal to remember his family. He kept the Necklace to remember those that took him and cared for him. He kept the cloak to remember his time in Galmore and the kind people he spent the year around. And he kept the small stone that Lunaria had given him.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

A stone that she had picked up from the snowy mountain that night and polished, turning it from a dull and boring rock into a glossy pale blue gem that reflected the light. It was smaller than the thickness of his fingers, but he was very careful not to lose it.

He kept all of these things to remember. Remember the life he had lived and the people he had met. In an attempt to keep his humanity. A concept he found growing increasingly fleeting the longer he stayed solely in the company of the dead or under the effects of [Dead Embrace].

Nightmare snorted, a large plum of steam exiting her mouth and jostling Alaster out of his thoughts. Giving an amused snort himself, Alaster patted her black neck to comfort her and ordered her forward. She was currently in her mortal form, appearing only as a larger than average black horse.

Nightmare obediently moved forward, towards the tall walls of Onigas as they quickly filled with more and more Soldiers. She saw them, aware of the threat they might pose, but uncaring. Her Master had ordered her forward, so she would obey. Pity the fool who would obstruct her.

She walked casually, knowing that her Master wished to not spook the Soldiers. He was here to visit his friends after all.

He could have simply skirted around Onigas, his job finished with the clearing of the forest, but he wished to say hello and visit the people he knew, especially because one of them was getting married. To a person he did not have the highest opinion about.

The Soldiers atop the wall watched the figure slowly approach as the army remained at the forest’s edge, more and more trees being felled.

As he came closer, a few of the Soldiers recognized him as the Hero of their city. Word spread like wildfire, even reaching the people at the bottom of the wall and spreading into the city.

The gate was opened as people began lining the street on their own, hoping to catch sight of their Hero. They knew so little about him. Only that he was large, clad in black armor, had saved their city, and then left.

They were eager to see him, but also wary.

Alaster rode through the gate, not even sparing it a glance. The people lining the street gave him pause, though it went unnoticed as Nightmare continued. The crowd was quiet and anxious, none daring to make a sound. His sheer size, while mounted atop a horse of unusual size, while wearing thick armor designed to intimidate, ensured that none dared to offend him in any way.

That is, until two kids, shoving their way through the crowd to see the Hero, tripped and fell into the middle of the road, directly in front of Nightmare and Alaster. Nightmare did not care, moving to step forward as her Master had commanded, even if the throat of a child lay in her hoof’s path. But Alaster pulled back on her reins, stopping her.

Alaster glanced down at the two children, fear freezing them in their spots. The children were in his way, but if he wanted to live here with his sister after rescuing her, he figured it would be best to be seen in the best light possible.

Alaster dropped from Nightmare and extended his hands, “Are the two of you alright?” he asked, his deep voice seemingly monstrous through his helmet.

The children began to shiver in fear. Sighing to himself, both at his ignorance and at the hassle, Alaster dismissed his helmet and repeated the question.

Hesitantly, they both reached up. He took their hands and gently lifted them to their feet, taking extra care not to crush their fragile wrists in his superhuman hands.

Alaster let them go and lightly brushed them off, “Where are your parents?”

At that moment, a woman burst from the crowd.

“I am so sorry my lord! They will be thoroughly punished.” The woman was a commoner and clearly terrified. Not of him, or for herself, but for her children.

Alaster waved her worries away, “It is no problem,” He turned to the children, “Now go with your mother and make so to listen. Only the children who listen to their parents can become great heroes!” He said with a wide smile that he faked.

The smaller of the two children immediately overcame his fear, face beaming, and eyes wide, “Like you?”

Alaster chuckled, only slightly forced this time, “Of course! I always listened to my parents! So go, and when you get old enough, grow stronger so you can protect your mother.”

“Yes sir!” Both children exclaimed, both smiling now.

They ran over to their mother who bowed, “Thank you sir.”

Alaster did not respond. He instead turned around and got back on Nightmare. His smile died as his helmet materialized around his face. As wholesome as the incident had been, it had also trudged up memories that Alaster did not wish to remember.

Continuing on his way, someone in the crowd started clapping. Then another, and another. In moments, the entire crowd erupted into cheers for their hero.

Belgroth and Sedall chuckled, but Alaster could only wonder one thing.

‘How easy it is to manipulate their opinion.’