Autumn, 914, Southern Border, Near Poplia Village

It was late already when Schenk rode through the night, with 30 subordinates by his side. He wore chainmail, an open helmet, and a sword on his back. In his hand, he held a long lance. The other riders had the same equipment as they rode through the night on the plastered roads that were so common in the entire Kingdom. It was an achievement Aurelius and his predecessors had been very proud of.

The smell of horse and leather was in the air, and Schenk, now 31 years old, was the commander of this small army heading towards Poplia village.

An hour ago, a man from the village had arrived at Vostrim castle, his fief as a baron, and reported an orc raid on Poplia Village before collapsing on the ground, dead. He ran for hours, sprinting, ignoring all pain and exhaustion until his message was handed over.

Schenk immediately ordered the departure of the cavalry to relieve the village and rescue whoever could still be rescued. And so, 30 riders spent the last hour riding like crazy to reach the village as fast as possible in the hopes of finding survivors. But in their hearts, they all knew that after an orc raid of this size, the chance of finding survivors was slim.

'Orcs be damned. As if Tiberius's schemes weren't enough of a headache. Now the Bloodhand Tribe must pillage villages… those poor people,' Schenk thought. One could see a scar on the right side of his face stretching from his eye to his ear that hadn't been there 5 years ago. He had barely changed except for the scar, a beard, and growing a few years older.

"Sir, is it safe to assume that the raiding orcs are from the Bloodhand Tribe?" Lucon, Schenk's second in command, asked while riding next to him.

Schenk nodded grimly.

"They're closest to the border after all, and they're much more aggressive than the other tribes nearby. I just never expected them to attack Poplia, sneaking by our outposts…" he grunted.

"We should prepare for a skirmish if there are any looting orcs left behind. By now, the bulk of their army should've left already," Lucon said grimly before continuing.

"As much as I hate to say it, our comrades and the villages have almost certainly found an untimely death by now."

"I know," Schenk replied with his teeth clenched.

"They have probably burned the villages and taken slaves already for their sacrifices," Lucon added.

"I KNOW!!!" Schenk roared before continuing calmly.

“I know they're probably all dead or taken as sacrifices. I fucking know! It's like 3 years ago… don't remind me. Ever since we destroyed one of their camps and found the state of the prisoners there, I can't go a single day without thinking about it, god damn it! And if there's even a sliver of a chance that there's someone alive, then we will search for that person."

After hearing his lord vent, Lucon gulped and looked to the ground ashamed.

"I'm sorry, milord. I didn't mean to trigger bad memories."

Schenk sighed.

"Stop talking about bad memories. We're about to make some more of them." He added before looking ahead, where at the end of the long straight road, a bright light was visible.

"Village ahead!" One of the soldiers reported, and the group of horsemen spurred their horses to increase their speed further. They soon reached the town, and what they saw wouldn't leave their minds for a long time. 30 to 40 houses set aflame, slowly burning down… but there was a certain smell…

Nauseating and sweet, putrid and streaky, like leather being tanned over a flame. In the middle of the village, one could see a large pile of corpses from as far as 200 meters away. 200 people or more, thrown onto a heap and set aflame.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

As they came closer, the smell intensified. One of the younger soldiers vomited off his horse. One could still see the traces of bitter fighting around the small fortified building on the village square. The horsemen stopped in front of it and gathered.

Lucon's face was pale, and one could see he had trouble dealing with what he saw. On the side of the heap, one could make out faces of women, children, and guards.

Most faces were already molten as the skin and flesh slowly came off the bones, yet some were still intact… and one could still see the emotions they felt when they died. Many soldiers took off their helmets in a minute of silence.

"An entire village…" Schenk mumbled to himself in a daze. He had seen similar pictures in the past, yet this picture was even harder for him to endure, even more so for the inexperienced soldiers among his ranks.

None of them were inexperienced in combat, but few had seen atrocities like this committed.

"It must have been a fucking army, not just a raiding party," Lucon said, his voice devoid of all emotion. He had also seen his share of things. Schenk nods.

"An Army armed with bows and spears. Well-forged," he replied as he rode to a corpse still lying on the ground in a corner. It was an orc. A spear penetrated its chest and stuck out. Its body was covered in well-crafted leather armor, and next to it lay a spear with a black metal tip.

The orc's face was humanoid, yet not human. It has red eyes in a deep socket. The facial bones were very pronounced, and one could see the sharp teeth in its mouth as it lay on its back with the mouth and eyes wide open.

On its hairless head, one could see the red-colored symbol of their tribe. A large hand-painted all over its face and head.

"Bloodhand Tribe. As I thought," Schenk mumbled before beginning to issue commands.

"Istvan! Come over here!" he shouted, and a lightly-armored man with only a bow on his back rode forward. He still seemed pale yet determined.

"Milord." He says. He's barely 16 years old.

"Ride to Rodusium as fast as possible and inform Earl Alexander of this immediately. Ask him for orders." He coldly ordered. He inwardly sighed.

"Alexander my dear friend and overlord. Peaceful times are over."

The young messenger nodded and turned his horse to leave.

"As you command, milord!"

Schenk turned to Lucon.

"Set up a party of five to track down the orcs and pursue them. If they stay in our territory, make them report their movements. We will react accordingly." Lucon nodded and disappeared with two more men.

Schenk then bellowed a loud order, shaking the startled soldiers, and their training took over. They had been drilled to listen to orders so much that their minds were torn away from the gruesome sight before them and to Schenk.

"SPLIT INTO GROUPS OF 5 AND BEGIN SEARCHING THE VILLAGE AND ITS OUTSKIRTS FOR SURVIVORS OR ORCS! GO!" he shouted and gathered four of his men around him. The soldiers quickly grouped up and spread out into the village.

"I only hope that there are a few survivors… if there was nobody left alive… that would be too gruesome." He sighed.

'It really must've been an army. A few hundred probably. Why would the Bloodhand Tribe launch such a large attack?' he couldn't figure it out. He rode towards a few buildings that had almost completely burned down and looked inside, only to find nothing but a few charred corpses.

That's when he heard a chuckle from a few meters away, followed by intense coughing. As he looked over, he saw a dying orc lying there on the ground. He was smiling as he looked at Schenk and the soldiers.

"Too… late.." it pressed out before cackling and coughing like crazy. Schenk slowly walked over to the orc, looking down at him. He looked down with disgust.

"Why?" he asked the orc, who started to laugh only to end up coughing again.

"The Bloodhand Tribe will rise again… we needed more… sacrificessss…" it pressed out as black blood gurgled out of his mouth.

"Sacrifices for what?" Schenk asked and stepped onto the orc's shoulder who screeched as an answer. It only laughed maniacally before finally, all life disappeared from its eyes.

"SACRIFICES FOR WHAT?" He shouted and angrily brought his foot down onto the orc's face, squashing it with the heavy boots. He was obviously unsatisfied with the answers, yet also needed an outlet for the intense emotions flowing through him.

Schenk looked up at the faces of his soldiers. He only saw grim determination.

"Split up and search the perimeter on foot!" He commanded them calmly and took another look at the house right next to the orc. It had burned down almost all the way. Inside, he could only see two indiscernible corpses that seemed to have clung onto one another.

"My god… a kid and one of her parents…" he looked at the small body hugged by a bigger one. He knelt and had to think of his wife and daughter.

‘No matter how many times one sees the cruel actions of the orcs… one can not get used to it.’ He clenched his jaw.

‘May such a calamity never befall my family.’ He thought quietly before a youthful voice startled him.

"A mother and her daughter." A voice next to him said in a husky voice. Schenk's head shot to his side where he saw a young boy with empty eyes, red from crying. The boy stood still and breathed heavily. His sad eyes were fixated on the corpses in the house.

Faust.