Chapter 4

It was a long walk down the dreary hall toward Carrack’s room, a journey he had come to know well. Distant echoes of footfalls and muffled conversation reverberated off the stone walls, mingling with the persistent whine of the storm winds. Every so often, the monotonous soundscape would be punctuated by the bone-rattling rumble of thunder, only to give way once again to the hypnotic rhythm of the fort’s typical drudgery.

In days past, Carrack often found himself lost in thought during his walks through the fort, especially when not driven by some urgent duty. But lately, he had become acutely aware of this once comforting dullness, in the way one might notice a familiar resource slowly depleting. An undercurrent of dread gripped him; he could sense a storm of a different kind looming on the horizon. Yet the specifics of this impending chaos—the when, the how—remained frustratingly elusive.

A prelude to the impending chaos arrived in that hallway that night. A soldier, still dripping from the evening rain, approached with a subdued briskness, almost a jog. He was likely trying to move as swiftly as possible without slipping on the stone floor, a concern Carrack knew all too well from personal experience. The soldier adjusted his rifle and offered a customary salute to his commander.

“Evening, sir,” the soldier began, his breath short yet steady. “The captain instructed me to inform you that there are folks at the gate.”

Raising an eyebrow, Carrack said, “At this hour?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do we know who they are?”

“I believe they’re locals, sir—relatives of the man who was executed.”

Carrack blinked in surprise. “I didn’t expect anyone to come this soon.”

“Neither did Captain Foeham, sir.”

Swearing under his breath, Carrack redirected his attention to the soldier. “Is the body even prepared?”

“Captain Foeham sent another man to check.” The soldier’s face displayed clear concern. “But, sir, we usually don’t deal with the bodies so swiftly.”

“Yes,” Carrack sighed. “I’m aware. Look, I’ll head out there and see what I can do about these visitors. In the meantime, I need you to go find Alaina.”

“The witch?” the soldier blurted out thoughtlessly.

“I swear, if I hear another person call her a witch—”

“I’m sorry, sir!” the soldier said hastily, pleading for mercy. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Start thinking then. Go find Alaina. Inform her about the situation with the body. She’ll know what to do.”

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“Yes, sir!” The soldier saluted and darted off, disappearing as quickly as he had come.

Traversing the familiar hallways now took on a new sense of foreboding. A tight knot of anxiety gathered in Carrack’s gut as he navigated the path toward where he presumed Captain Foeham would be waiting. Transferring the bodies of the deceased to their next-of-kin had always been a task he found deeply unsettling. It was an unbearable duty when it involved the remains of his own fallen comrades, but this case was markedly different.

In all the places he had served, this island marked the first time he was tasked with overseeing the transfer of civilian bodies to their families—civilians whose lives had been extinguished by his direct command.

The ordeal was singularly difficult and grotesque. When the families of his fallen comrades stared at him, their gazes were often laced with sorrow, anger, and a begrudging understanding. They might blame him for not doing enough to save their loved ones, and he accepted this—understanding that this blame was a component of their grieving process.

But since he’d begun ordering executions for minor crimes such as thievery, the scenario had changed. The bereaved relatives of the executed civilians would stare at him with a venomous mix of hatred, anger, and malice. There was no understanding in their eyes, no space for shared grief. Just unadulterated anger directed toward the man who had unjustly ripped their father, husband, child, mother, or grandparent away from them—all for the “crime” of trying to feed themselves or their family.

The fort boasted only one entryway, a set of sturdy wooden doors wide enough to accommodate ten men crossing the threshold abreast. Above the gate, a walkway stretched along the outer walls, providing the sentries with an uninterrupted view of the fort’s surroundings. Carrack trekked through the main courtyard, heading toward the gate, his shoes sinking into the sloppy mix of mud and water. Any semblance of dryness he had managed to achieve inside was quickly undone. A few men had already congregated above the gate on the stone walls, among them Captain Foeham.

Carrack began his ascent up a rickety wooden staircase that led to the top of the walls. A handful of soldiers with prior carpentry experience had constructed the staircase. Judging by the questionable quality of the work and the alarming sway of the structure under his weight, however, their expertise was questionable. Despite its flaws, the staircase served its purpose. Early in his tenure, Carrack had ordered the construction of such stairs around the fort’s walls. The intention was to provide multiple access points for the garrison to swiftly man the walls in emergencies. But as they began to deteriorate, Carrack acknowledged their rapidly evolving status from useful infrastructure to potential death traps.

Upon reaching the top of the wall, Carrack was greeted by Foeham and a smattering of sentries. The crisp, cold breeze intermingled with the steady patter of rain, wrapping them in a cloak of the chilling tempest.

“Lord Carrack, sir,” Foeham began, “we have a slight predicament.”

“So I’ve heard, Captain.” Carrack turned his gaze toward the visitors who had caused this interruption. On the other side of the walls, two figures, cloaked in dark attire, stood waiting next to a cart. “I take it you’ve already sent someone out to speak with them?”

“Indeed, sir. A two-man team went to investigate. They reported back that the visitors are two females—one elderly, the other middle-aged. They claim to be family of the executed man and want to claim his body.”

Carrack frowned. “How on earth did they even know the execution took place today?”

“When I dispatched the heralds earlier, I instructed them to announce the execution, sir,” Foeham explained. “I believed it would expedite the process.”

“I see,” Carrack’s brow furrowed further. “We’ll discuss that matter later. For now, we need to prepare the body. I informed your messenger to alert Alaina; she should work quickly, albeit begrudgingly.”

“And in the interim, sir?”

“I’ll head down and see what’s what.”