A soft gust of wind blew over one of the piles of ash that was laid out in front of him. Xen’s bloodshot eyes stayed fixated on the charred corpses that had been left to rot since last night. His legs were on the brink of collapse but they still somehow held up his tiny body. The sun was out now, he hadn’t even realized how much time had gone by. It felt like mere minutes to him. He couldn’t understand why he was stuck here, in this loop of uncertainty. Why did this matter to him? He had seen countless others die before, especially comrades. Far worse things have happened to him and he’s even seen other people be set alight.
So why was this any different? Why was Fitz different?
“Remember this kiddo…” Santiago’s groggy morning voice called the boy out of his trance.
“Any connection you have is a weakness to be exploited. Anyone you care about, or who cares about you is a tragedy waiting to happen..” He paused.
“Many men in this world die for people who care about them, and who they in turn care about. Lots of men die for people who don’t care about them..” Santiago rubbed his chin, deep in thought.
“It’s disgusting. Men who think they’re dying for some honorable reason are as ignorant as they are weak. It’s only those who truly do not care for anything, or anyone, who get anywhere in this fucked world.” Santiago looked away from the boy, as if he wasn’t talking to him anymore and instead reiterating to himself.
He looked back at the boy with nothing in his dry eyes.
“Go fill the buckets, then I want your freeloading ass cleaning the stables for the day.” He called out before walking back into his tent.
Xen walked towards the lake with four empty buckets on each arm. His legs and mind were now starting to feel the effects of skipping a night of sleep. He pouted as he slowly dipped each bucket into the water, making sure to fetch out any leaves or sticks that floated in. Even his hands were sore as they gripped the handle.
He filled three of the four buckets. As he stepped back to finish the fourth he accidentally caught his foot on the handle and spilled all the water he had just collected on himself, completely drenching the cloth sack he was wearing.
He laid there for a moment, face down in the dirt that was now liquifying into mud. Despite how cold the water had made him, the mud was seemingly warm, like the embrace of a mother. The young child sobbed and passed out into the mud for a while before he awoke to chilling laughter.
“-And then she wanted to pay me!” Dange laughed and another man laughed alongside him.
Xen went quiet, his panicked eyes glanced at the spilled bucket, he couldn’t remember how long ago he was supposed to have that bucket back at camp. He looked up to see the golden aura of the sunsetting sky. Its beauty terrified him. He slept the day away. He heard the sound of someone kicking a bucket and looked up at the two men.
“Well here’s where the little runt ran off to!” Dange shouted with an angry laugh that scared the birds away.
“Dumb kid, wasn’t he s’possed to have that water hours ago?” The other man sneered. He was skinny, unlike Dange. His long blonde hair was filthy and matted.
Xen stumbled backwards, instinctively reaching back for his swords that he left at camp.
“Oh ho ho- getting violent are we-?!” Dange grabbed the boy and dragged him to a smaller, stillwater pond that was completely coated in grime.
“Y’think we should finally do away with this lil pain in the ass?” The blonde man chuckled as he watched Dange pin the kid to the ground.
“Pssh yeah, now that that Cenivan softie is nothing but ash I can do whatever the fuck I want!” Dange grabbed the boy’s head and dunked it into the muddy green water.
Santiago rubbed his forehead with his right hand as he leaned on a table. The sounds of drunken criminals all around him made his head hurt. He scowled at each of his men, watching their wretched faces. His mind thought back to Fitz. He pictured himself as the one lying on the ground next to the burnt corpse of an unnamed woman. He pictured Fitz giving the order to burn him as Sir Locus drenched him in oil.
He took another sip of the alcohol they were running out of. His eyes were locked on the knife wedged into the wooden table in front of him. He thought of the quickest way he would be able to take himself out of this world. What would hurt the least? What would hurt the most?
He could feel an insurmountable pressure weighing on his head as he thought back to Bella's words. Was she right? Should he just.. Quit? His eyes narrowed on the empty chair right across from him. He imagined her sitting there, she was younger, her hair wasn’t in a bunch of fancy knots and she wasn’t wearing entirely purple, instead she was wearing armor, same as him, with the crest of the lion.
He shook his head before he heard her speak and she disappeared from his mind in an instant.
“Ay Santi-” Correy sat down in front of him.
“We haven’t heard back from Easton in the watchtower yet, want to send someone to go check on ‘em?”
Santiago stared blankly into the bearded man’s eyes for a moment.
“I’ll do it. Just make sure everyone’s on guard.” Santiago finally answered. His voice was low, raspy, as if those were the first words he spoke in a while.
Santiago walked along the hillside looking down into camp. Everything they had looked like tiny specks from there. He kept staring, his mind racing over his entire life up until this moment. Everything he had, everything he worked for all led to this.
“A group of brainless scum. A camp of rapists and murderers.” He said aloud, knowing none of the men could hear him. He hated them all, every single one of them. It took restraint just to even talk to any of them.
When Dange pitched the idea of the festivals he wanted to slit his throat right there and then, but he had already told so many of the other men that if he didn’t go through with it he would have a civil war on his hands.
He had to act like he enjoyed the complete animalistic nightmare put on display, he had to act like he was the worst out of all of them because otherwise he doesn’t have an army.
Santiago kicked a rock in anger. Fitz was the only one he liked, part of him wished he had just let the man go and escape with the woman. But by time she ran to him it was too late.
Santiago collapsed to his knees in anguish.
“What have I done..? What have I become..? Miranda please forgiv-” he stopped himself and held back his tears.
He knew she couldn’t forgive him, and he knew she was gone. He knew what he had done, and he knew what he had become. A monster.
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His mind raced back and forth over different topics as he sauntered along the hillside. He thought about different ways of killing himself. How to eliminate the camp as well. Setting fire to the tents, poisoning the alcohol, even hosting his own festival where the men would be forced to be the recipients of the vile acts.
When he reached a small clearing in the trees his eyes lingered on the sunset. Its gentle warmth burned into him with a shocking intensity. He couldn’t peel his eyes away even though staring was harmful. He didn’t care much about what was harmful anymore. He let the sounds of nature take him away. Away from Fitz, away from Black Horn, away from Emissuss, all of it.
He took in a chilled breath of air, letting the oxygen calm his frustration. He must’ve spent hours on that hill, doing nothing. He didn’t care if there could be danger lurking, if Black Horn was to fall today, it would be deserved. As he finally pried his eyes away from the oranges and reds streaking across the yellow sky he looked toward the watchtower.
He knew what had to be done. But it was already done for him. It was too late.
The man in the watchtower was dead, a single arrow pierced right through his heart as he laid limp in his chair. Santiago quickly looked around, trying to see if the assassins were still there, if perhaps he was next.
The once calming noises of the forest had finally gone silent.
Xen’s eyes were wide open and bloodshot as the burly man dunked him into the murky water over and over again, sometimes holding him under for seconds at a time. He could just barely hear the two men laughing over the deafening sounds of splashing and his own heartbeat racing in his chest. He had no hope, there was nothing he could do to free himself from this situation.
As he was dunked over and over again something still in the water caught his panicked eye. There was a strange silver stone floating just beneath the surface. Xen could slowly make out fins, and a tail, but something was wrong.
The fish was upside down, floating dead in the water, the same water he was to die in. It was trapped in that pond and had no hopes of escaping so it died. Xen wondered if that’s just how the world is in his last moments.
If that fish was born in the ocean, where it could swim and be free it would have never even known this pond of death existed. His mind pictured the fish swimming alongside hundreds of others in the big, blue and clean oceans of Jarak.
If only he didn’t exist here.
“Alright, enough joking around. Off the brat.” The blonde man said to Dange with a cold inhuman tone in his voice.
“Relax, Brotor, I’ll do it.” Dange said as he grabbed Xen’s neck with one hand and his arms with the other.
He held the small boy right below the water for what felt like hours. Xen tried to kick and struggle but it was no use, he couldn’t breathe anymore, his thrashing gradually slowed down as his scum covered eyes finally drooped. As the sun finally went behind the horizon, Xen fell limp.
All of a sudden Dange and Brotor turned their heads to the sound of a bell ringing throughout the entire valley, then many men began to blow their horns and shout.
“What the hell! We’re being invaded!” Brotor shouted as he raced back to camp, leaving Dange to follow after him and Xen’s body in the water.
Tents were set ablaze and men were being slaughtered en masse by the forces of the Emissuss army.
‘They must have planned this for a long time, they must have known we were here.’ Santiago thought.
The numbers of the Soldiers that had arrived were almost record breaking, Black Horn stood no chance and Santiago was going to let them die. Until he saw one man on the hill across from him, a group stood alongside the man with torches lighting up their position. The knight had a bright red stripe going down the middle of his helmet.
Santiago could no longer hear the screams of his men in the hell that was their camp. Santiago could no longer see anything except that red stripe. Except red.
He marched his way down the hill screaming with rage. As he started moving through the burning camp he slaughtered everyone in his path, Emissuss, Black Horn, he didn’t care. In his eyes they all deserved to die the same.
One man ran up behind him with a mace but Santiago twisted around and lobbed off his head with one clean stroke. He ran forward through the chaos, impaling another man straight through with his sword, knocking him on the ground and walking over him as he bled out below him.
Men with bows started firing down the hill at him, but Santiago used the trees as cover. He threw his cloak up into some branches, as they rustled the bowmen all took shots at it. It was finally knocked from the tree, so they decided to investigate it. They were picked off one by one by Santiago using the trees and night as cover.
“LOCUSSSS!!!” He shouted as he bolted up the hill at the red striped man, he was covered in the blood of his allies and enemies. He looked like a monster, he no longer appeared human.
“S-Sir he’s coming this way-!” One of the men standing next to Sir Locus stuttered out.
“Relax, he’s tired, I’ll finally put this sick stain on Emissuss history to rest.” Locus stated firmly as he drew his sword and stepped forward out of the torchlight.
Santiago reached the top of the hill and lunged at the man, their swords clashing and causing sparks in the dark night. Santiago wildly swung his blade in several questionable directions, causing Locus to be unable to judge his next move.
“Give it up Santi-! Not even Bella will side with you anymore!” Locus shouted at the beast of a man, trying to get him to drop his sword.
Santiago grit his teeth and gripped even tighter on the handle. His blind rage only grew stronger. His swings seemed to get faster, Locus began to back up toward the torches.
“Why are you still fighting!? Would Miranda really be happy with what you’ve done!? Do you think this can bring her back somehow?!” Locus shouted at the man, his voice full of anger and regret.
Something snapped in Santiago, he started to growl like an animal with every swing, he began to put himself in dangerous situations just for the possibility of landing a hit. It was as if he no longer cared if he lived or died.
Santiago slashed Locus across his thigh, creating a huge tear in his padded pants. He then quickly got another hit right across the face of the man, causing Locus to fall backward onto the ground.
Before he could finish him off two men jumped in, Santiago executed one with a quick strike while the other slashed him along his left arm.
“GET THE HORSES READY!” One of the men shouted as two more dragged Locus away from him.
Santiago gave into his rage, he tackled the man in front of him and ripped a part of his throat with his teeth. But he was too late, the rest of the soldiers rode away with Locus.
Xen rose from the water, floating on the surface, he could touch the bottom here. He coughed for a few minutes before realizing what was going on all around him. He could smell the blood and smoke from the camp. His dead looking eyes caught a glimpse of the smoke coming over the trees. He stumbled his way toward the chaos, the only thing on his mind was getting to his swords.
“Hey look! That kid is hiding out the battle, he’s a deserter!” Xen heard two different voices from the treeline. They were Black Horn soldiers.
“What?! That kid is still alive?!” Dange’s voice was instantly recognizable for Xen, it sent fear coursing through him.
Xen limped his way in the opposite direction of the voices, but it was too late, they saw him.
“Kill that kid!” Dange shouted as arrows flew from the trees toward the boy.
He gave into his instincts, the pain vanished as he darted from the camp as fast as he could. He could hear the men on his tail, there were a lot of them this time. He didn’t look back. He ran out of the valley and into a new forest he had never been before.
The air around him whistled as arrows flew right by his head. He tripped over a stone and rolled down another hill in the woods, hitting sticks and rocks on this way down. His ankle no longer worked properly.
“There he is!” a voice from behind him shouted as more arrows littered the ground around him.
Mud and water flew off him as he ducked behind trees and through thorn bushes. A loud howl came from behind him. Xen didn’t care, the men’s voices were growing more faint by the second. He panted loudly with the thought that he might actually make it.
An arrow pierced him right in his left calf.
The boy let out a loud whine as blood trickled from the wound and he fell over. He quickly stumbled to his feet and kept moving, he could barely see anything in the darkness now. Finally he made it out of the forest and onto a clear cliffside. A rushing river flowed off the edge, he had nowhere left to run to.
When he turned around, his tired body was met with three hungry looking wolves. They barked at him and growled as they inched closer. He looked into their mouths, their jaws snapped with a relentless voracity. He looked down off the cliff at the rushing water, the water that had almost taken his life.
He finally looked up at the bright night sky. A full moon echoed the sun back to him, and it was clustered with what seemed to be millions of stars. It was the most beautiful thing Xen had ever seen in his life.
His tired eyes began to shut, trying their hardest to remain fixed on the moon.
He stumbled backwards, falling gently all the way down into the rushing river with a splash.
Xen’s sore body awoke on a muddy shoreline. The river rushed loudly behind him, his hair was full of water plants. The arrow was still firmly lodged in his leg, and it was still night. The moonlight shone brightly on a patch of hay next to a dark cabin. Xen crawled his way to it. Dragging his broken body across the ground for what felt like an hour before, at last, being able to rest it on the soft hay.
It was warm, it was dry, its smell filled him with a sense of comfort and made him able to, for the first time, fall asleep easily.
He would be happy to die in a nice, peaceful place like this. But he didn’t.