Velos stepped out of the dimly lit archives into the pale moonlight, twirling the scroll between his fingers. Sterling's identification record had directed him not to the rookie barracks where he assumed the slayer would be staying, but to a lookout tower situated just outside the main building of the Slayers Division. It was odd—unorthodox even—but something about Sterling already gave off that unpredictability.
The Slayers Division’s main sector was an imposing structure, spanning multiple levels. It housed not only the archives and barracks but armories, training grounds, and the quarters for higher-ranked slayers. The building's stone walls were adorned with intricate carvings, with iron-wrought gates marking the entrance, constantly guarded by patrols. The rookies had their quarters on the lower floors, and above them, the seasoned slayers, with quarters adorned with balconies that allowed them to see the activity below. The Division’s hierarchy was clear, reflected even in the layout. As a result of the liveliness accentuated with the hustle and bustle of a thriving community, the sector has been referred to as ‘the Heartland’ by many an experienced slayer.
Velos found it jarring to be back in slayer territory, where the constant hum of activity—slayers training, moving heavy cargo, and readying their weapons—clashed with the quiet, methodical stillness he had grown accustomed to in the archives, where time felt slower, and every movement deliberate. He hasn't been part of that world for a long time. The archives were his domain now, though his feet carried him in search of the one person who could, in some way, bring him back into that fold, even if just for a short while.
It didn’t take long to reach the outskirts where the lookout tower stood. The distance made room for peace and quiet, the quiet concentration one would expect of a distant watchtower standing in vigilance. Though as Velos came closer, he could hear howling laughter and scorn from the base of the tower. Velos got closer to the source—a group of four guards sitting around a rickety table near the tower’s base, engaged in a spirited game of cards. One guard, stationed at the top of the tower, leaned lazily against the railing, his eyes half-lidded as he kept a half-hearted watch over the horizon. It was clear they weren’t expecting any serious action.
Velos approached cautiously, the scroll still clutched in his hand.
“Excuse me,” he called out, his voice hesitant but loud enough to get their attention. “I’m looking for Sterling.”
The guards paused their game and exchanged amused glances. One of them, a burly man with a thick beard, raised an eyebrow and smirked.
“You’re lookin’ for Sterling?” the bearded guard chuckled. “You sure about that, lad?”
The others snickered, but before Velos could respond, another guard, lankier and younger, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted up toward the tower, “Oi, Sterling! Someone’s here for ya!”
A few moments later, a figure emerged from the top of the tower, making his way down the winding staircase. Sterling appeared, as disheveled and battle-worn as Velos remembered, his steel armor clanking with each step. He clutched a grime-coated sword in one hand and on the other, a napkin.
“Are you done with that sword, boy?” one of the guards teased as Sterling approached. “My boots are waiting in line.”
Sterling waved off the remark with a grin, grabbing one of the guards by the shoulder playfully. “Yeah, yeah, because you all seem very busy.” He glanced at Velos, amused. “Didn’t expect you to actually show up.”
Velos, standing awkwardly on the edge of the gathering, nodded. “Your scroll led me here.”
Sterling shot a look at the guards, already catching their smug glances. "Yeah, I know how it looks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Place to rest, eat, and maybe avoid more trouble. As long as you don’t mind them," he said, nodding toward the guards with a trace of irritation. "Could be worse."
“You don't… stay with the other rookies?” Velos asked cautiously.
“Can’t stand the noise.” replied Sterling. Velos caught the brief glance Sterling threw to the side, but decided not to press further. After all, he knew Sterling was more-or-less outcast among the rookies due to his infractions.
One of the guards piped up, clearly enjoying the moment. “Yeah, Sterling here keeps the place tidy, cleans our gear, and makes sure everything’s shiny for the Captain. In exchange, we let him crash here.” The guard's tone dripped with sarcasm, but Sterling didn’t seem fazed.
“True.” Sterling shot back with a grin. “Besides, someone’s gotta keep you lazy bastards in check.”
The group erupted into laughter, though their mocking banter continued. Velos watched the interaction with growing curiosity, noting the strange dynamic Sterling had with the guards. It seemed that despite the jokes, Sterling had earned a certain level of begrudging respect—or at the very least, they tolerated him.
Sterling turned back to Velos, his grin widening. “Come on, let’s talk somewhere quieter. These fools’ll just keep yapping.”
—
“Why me, Sterling? Why go to the trouble of finding me? There are other rookies, better suited slayers, even.”
Velos followed him down the path from the lookout tower, his mind swirling with uncertainty. Sterling led him toward a quieter spot at the base of the tower, away from prying eyes.
“I'm not going to beat around the bush here.” Once they were out of earshot, Sterling leaned against a tree, his gaze sharp, almost predatory.
"You heard what they said about me, yeah? Not exactly the favorite among the rookies or the officers." He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding Velos’ eyes. "I need someone who’s smart, not someone who just swings a sword buckwild. I’ve heard you’re sharp with books, knowledge. That’s somethin’ I don’t have."
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
There was more to Sterling’s story than he was letting on. And while Velos wasn’t sure if he trusted him yet, there was an odd sincerity in Sterling’s voice—rough, but genuine. On top of that, Velos was just as sure Sterling knew about who he was. Sterling wasn’t likely to care that Velos was lauded as the type to run away.
Velos crossed his arms and took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control over the conversation. "Let’s get one thing straight," he said, trying to hold his voice steady. "If you put me in danger, if I think for a second you’re going to get me killed out there, I’m gone. You’ve heard what they say about me, and I can’t promise they’re wrong."
Sterling raised an eyebrow, a crooked grin forming at the corner of his lips. "Fair enough," he said, shrugging. "But if we do this right, you won’t even need to lift a finger. I’ll do the fighting. You’re the brains of the operation."
Velos wasn’t convinced, not entirely, and he had more conditions to lay down. "If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it my way," Velos continued. "That means no rushing in blind. We prepare. I want to know everything about the target, the assignment, the terrain, and the traps we’ll have at our disposal before we even set foot out there."
Sterling listened intently. "Alright," he nodded. "What do you need?"
"To start," Velos said, narrowing his eyes, "do you even remember what kind of equipment we’re allowed to use on this promotional?"
Sterling paused for a moment, then scratched his head. "Uh... no. Not exactly. But we can visit administration, get the full details, and then swing by the armory to check what they’ve got for us."
Velos sighed, half-expecting that answer. "Fine. We'll do that. But one more thing before we go," he said, leaning in slightly. "Do you know anything about the Darau?"
Sterling’s expression shifted to mild confusion. "Can’t say I do."
Velos nodded, already suspecting as much. The Darau were creatures he’d encountered in the many field reports he had poured over during his time in the archives. Though he wasn’t an active slayer, his rookie training and endless nights of study had taught him much about the beasts prowling the wilds. The Darau were notorious for their cunning. They weren’t solitary predators, but pack hunters, and they scavenged the remains of battles and slaughtered creatures to sustain their hunger. Velos remembered reading about how even the most seasoned slayers respected the Darau, not because they were unstoppable, but because they were coordinated, able to take advantage of a prey's weakness in a flash. They weren’t mindless brutes, and that made them far more dangerous.
"They’re carnivorous pack hunters. Two-legged reptilians. The hardest part about capturing one is finding one that’s separated from the pack. They don’t like to be alone. But they scavenge, and if we can set up a proper lure, we might be able to draw one out."
"Can’t say I’m worried," Sterling grinned. “I’ll take care of the pack. You just make sure to leave one standing.”
Velos’ eyes narrowed in confusion at the audacity of the remark. The nonchalant way Sterling said it almost convinced Velos that Sterling was confident about his ability to take on an entire pack of predators by himself, but he had other concerns on his mind.
“That’s not the problem,” said Velos. “They’re pack hunters—intelligent and coordinated. Wound one, and the rest will flee. We only get one shot.”
"Unless," Velos added quickly. "They're accompanied by an alpha, which adds more risk to our situation. Not every Darau pack has one, but if we run into one, we’re as good as dead. The alphas are smarter, stronger, and far more dangerous. We’ll have to be prepared for that possibility."
“Guess I’ll have to keep my blade sharper than usual.” Sterling’s grin faded slightly as he nodded. “On the field, i’ll leave you in charge of making bait, and once a sucker takes it, you leave the rest to me.”
"Exactly," Velos replied.
Velos leaned back, glancing over at Sterling. "Look," Velos began, his voice steady, "I don't rush headlong into danger if I can help it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not prepared to handle myself. We need to gear up properly. Let’s visit the armory first, take a look at what’s available." He glanced toward the door, then back at Sterling, his brow raised slightly. "Do you have a preferred weapon, or are you just going to grab whatever catches your eye?"
Sterling smirked, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light. "You'll see when we get there,"
Velos, not entirely sure what to make of Sterling’s words, simply nodded. “Armory then?”
The pair stood, and Sterling made a quick glance toward the Heartland. The two walked along the cobbled road that paved the entrance to the sector. Though their plan seemed tightly controlled, Velos knew more than anyone that things could go wrong on the field in the blink of an eye, which meant arriving prepared for danger was the only option.
—
The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the dirt road as Velos and Sterling walked side by side. The quiet crunch of their boots on the path was the only sound they could hear for what felt like hours. Approaching the distant warmth of torchlight, Sterling broke the silence.
“You didn’t seem too eager the first time we talked. What changed your mind?” His words cut through the air like the edge of an ax and through Velos’ concentration, as he wasn’t expecting to be questioned so soon. The truth was complicated, tied to things Sterling wouldn’t understand—things Velos wasn’t ready to share. So he spoke carefully,
“Archivist work didn't work out for me,” Velos began, eyeing the landscape to the side. “I guess i've spent enough time away from the field.”
Sterling snorted softly, flashing in a brief grin. "Figured," he muttered.
When they agreed to visit the armory, Velos knew what was coming next. The moment they'd step through those doors, he would once again have to pick up the sword he had so long avoided. He glanced at his hands, clasping his fists instinctively, and felt the weight of that responsibility settle over him like a familiar, heavy burden. Yet, when he caught a glance toward Sterling’s smiling, relaxed posture, he felt the weight of worries lifted, even if only slightly.
Velos had lived his recent years dictated by worry, dictated by fear—and if Sterling’s amber eyes contained any spark of the same fire that had recently ignited in Velos, he would walk alongside him in earnest. For now, Velos pushed the doubt aside. Let things go right this time.
----------------------------------------
Slayer's Notes
Property of Velos Rendhal
Darau (darau ferox)
* Classification: Reptile
* Rank: ☐ (Markless)
The Darau are bipedal reptiles standing roughly 2 meters tall. They are formidable due to their speed, intelligence, and coordinated hunting tactics. Their primary weapon is a single elongated talon on each foot, which they use to slash and incapacitate their prey with precise, devastating strikes. Quite common in many regions of Antea, Darau often prey on animals smaller than their size, resorting to pack coordination when hunting bigger prey. While easily dispatched when isolated, the Darau become a threat for the unprepared when fighting in packs.
The Darau are occasionally led by an alpha that is much larger, and more dangerous than the rest.