I sighed, looking expectantly at my watch that slowly ticked, over the fire, crackling in the drum. I looked across from myself, a young girl, she must have been, fair skin and brownish hair, slowly etching away at her ration. At least the light in her eyes from when she got here was gone. She piped up between mouthfuls of food and looked about the circle of crude chairs.

“Lieutenant” she said, her soft blue eyes starting to wilt and swirl amid her weak coffee.

“You will help me get home safe, right?”

“Of that, I can promise you” I responded

I was in the village, a rare shard of sunlight giving us a feeling of warmth for felt like seconds amongst the ever-present autumnal wind, that howled between the crude wooden houses. I was collecting orders from a couple villagers, either wanting repairs, or to catch up. I spotted Father Godfrey out of the corner of my eye, his wrinkled features tiredly heaving a large wooden box along the dirt, towards the shining tower of the church.

“Do you need any help with that Father?” I asked expectantly, a warm smile greeting his face.

“Oh, Richold!” he said, putting the box down, and raising his arms.

“I have not seen you in town in a while, I was beginning to worry” he answered my smile with his own

“Yes, this is rather hard to carry, I only need to get it to the church door is all, so your help would be appreciated”

I strolled to the other side of the box, heaving it, letting out a gasp when it reached the top of my ribs.

We slowly maneuvered sideways as we awkwardly steered the box towards the large wooden gates that made the front of the church.

“Make sure to be careful Richold, I have heard things from fellow villagers coming from further out in the territories, it is dangerous on the outskirts, and from what I have heard they are becoming a bit raucous, the locals are. But the magnate, may she keep him on high, has been keeping them in check since the great expansion. I would usually treat these rumours with cynicism” he grunted, as we almost dropped the large container to the floor.

“But just be careful, not even the divine one knows fate” he bowed slightly, which I returned

I asked him quizzically

“Do you not need my help getting it into the church? I'm sure dragging this down those stairs is going to be difficult?”

“Usually, but I have some of the villagers volunteering to help out, they are just arriving late, after tending the land, thank you for offering”

I hope he does not exert himself too much, I sighed, sticking my hands into neatly placed holes in my trousers and slowly walking back home so that I could fill my slowly scrawling stomach.

The calmness is almost satisfying, I had always thought that winter was the better season. The cold weaves people together amid the hearth and home, and people will always come together whether it was in the trenches then, or the log house now. This world, with its flowing streams, ebbing rivers, towering mountains, amid rundown cities and towns, dotted with ancient pillars and symbols that once heralded better times.

I sigh to myself, taking a sip from my flask, freshly warmed this morning, tugging at a piece of dry jerky with my mouth. It is like the old man used to say, I can almost hear his warm, gruff voice amid the constant pounding of explosions and the rising, spattering dirt. When all you hear is thunder, the silence comes as pale as death.

It was a different time I guess, I pulled heavy sigh, leaning back against the black wood to my back. A steady tear swam down my face, I quickly wiped it off and tugged my patchwork hide cloak tighter. I know so little about what is around me. The fauna is warped, and the entire place is dark and moist. From what little I have in my memories, we are in quite the area. Situated in the north of a kingdom, though I haven’t heard the name, I must ask father when I get back.

Then again, I also must decide what to do here, whether to stay amid the warmth of people I or rather we know, or to strike out on my own. I chuckled slightly, as the still, frigid air began to slowly creep over my bare fingers.

Stolen novel; please report.

It started slow, I smelt it before I saw or heard it, just a taste, the slowly slinking smell of burning wood. Charcoal. It began to infect my lungs and tastebuds and before I knew it, a great pillar of smoke was erupting from beyond the bare black trees that yearned for the sky. I sat up straight, being knocked out of my stupor, reaching, and grasping at my side for safety.

I stopped. Leoric must be burning something, I thought, lying back into my cloak, and continuing to slowly drift in and out of thought, the smell of charcoal hanging, and the glassy orb of the sun glistening beyond the winter clouds.

A sudden shriek filled the air, followed by more. Cries and shouts, women, and men. This time I bolted up, grasping at my side again where usually I rested it. Nothing. I looked beyond the black fingers to the quickly growing smoke cloud. I started to run down the hill, slipping as I went and tumbling downwards, covering me with cold mud.

I kept going, dashing down the sodden path. A fire? In autumn? I'll need to go to the stream with buckets, ill drop by the house to get them, is Eira alright?, are mum and dad safe? How many are hurt? How many houses are hi.....

I got to the log house, intact, the door shut, windows caved in and broken, but not completely destroyed. The screams and shouts had continued growing louder as I got to the village outskirts. The screams and wailing began to have more and more coherency as I got closer, a villager ran past me, his eyes wild, his clothes laden with mud whilst carrying as many of his personal possessions as possible.

I yelled after him as he passed me.

“What is happening in the village?”

He stopped for a moment, turned around and shouted at me.

“it's the Wyelish”

And with that he was gone, rapidly stumbling and diving into the forest.

I hid behind one of the still standing houses as I looked in towards the cobbled square. Sat amidst a circle of now burning hulks a group of men stood, pelts and sigils adorned their every visage, armed with a variety of rusted weapons, swords, axes, many carrying shields of splintered wood. I could just make out on one, a green background, with a black dragon coiling its tail into a ring. My focus was halted by the tossing of people, and the gradual chaos of it all. The screaming had died down, these people seem like raiders, if I am to assume they are here for riches, then they won’t find much, but... I kept my head down and watched as the group of men gathered in the centre of the square, bring in more people, this time villagers. They were dragged beaten on the way and thrown into the pile.

They had a strange language, although I noticed one amongst them with braids in his hair, and green paint covering his face and arms who called out to the villagers in understandable language, although with a heavy and rustic accent, the rest talked in a sibilant jumble of words. I strained to listen from round the corner.

“gwnewch yn siŵr eich bod yn rhwymo eu dwylo”

“byddwn yn eu cario i ffwrdd cyn bo hir”

“unrhyw ddynion y byddwch chi'n dod o hyd iddynt”

“eu gosod mewn llinell a'u lladd, unrhyw un sy'n gwrthsefyll, gwnewch yr un peth”

I watched as he barked, the men around him quickly reacting. I could feel myself taking on a grim visage as I spotted both my mother and father amongst the crowd of prisoners. They started lining my father up with a couple of other men, my mother started to struggle and shout, begging not to be separated from him, she got her wish and was promptly thrown into line by her restraints.

I grabbed at my belt, sliding my hunting knife out of its sheath, resting it in my palm. If I'm going to actually make a difference to the situation before me, I've got to act at the right time. I’ll see what happens for a bit longer, but i have a feeling I'm not going to have time as a luxury.

I heard a small crack behind me, as i spun around a smaller, a man not much older than me stood smiling, covered in tattered leather with dirtied red hair that hung about his face and eyes, holding a small axe. I lunged forward, knife in hand, keeping my mouth shut as i gritted my teeth. He pulled my arm forward, causing me to trip and lose my footing, before slamming the butt of his axe into the back of my head.

When i came too, i first noticed the rough texture of the rope around my hands, as i kneeled on the floor, my head slowly spinning. I could hear the laughter around me, muffled by the slow crackling of burning buildings. Before me kneeled the three other members of the table i had sat to just this morning, each of them struggling, as they grappled with their restraints. My father, shouting insults and begging for the lives of those to his side. 2 men took their place behind them and raised their weapons.

It happened quick, just the stroke of an axe. I felt that I could feel each muscle and bit of flesh tear. And then, their heads rolled, as blood began to leak from the stumps. The once pure faces of mother and father, that so often smiled, even when times were rough, in the winter or the summer. Now held the look of astonishment at their last moments. I had no memories of them, the time we spent together was so short, and yet a lifetime had passed. I am used to death, I thought that in my core, even as I felt my eyes begin to cloud and wet, and corners of my mouth contort in anguish. I screamed and shouted, and yet my ears held silence. I looked up before me, as they smirked, all but him, who with a sigh of seeming relief dragged Eira away with the others, I could see her eyes, empty and staring as her feet started to blister along the ground, and the church, bellowed in flames and crumbled beside her, illuminating her blackened eyes.

Before i knew it, the boy who had knocked me out, grabbed me by the hair, and with the help of one of the older raiders, guided me through a mass of blood and corpses that were strewn upon the ground, i felt heat on my skin, as they guided me to the burning steeple, and left me falling into the darkness beneath.