The sunset spread over the western sky like a flaming ribbon, its bloody rim gnawed on by dark clouds. Night crawled slowly from the east, eager to devour the last remaining rays of the dying sun. Still, there was enough light to clearly see the majestic mountains in the distance with patches of snow still surviving on their peaks and lush forests of pines, birch, and oaks covering their slopes and reaching down to the plains.

A broad road cut through the flatland, its surface reflecting the setting sun, making it look like an unnaturally straight river. At a second glance, anyone could recognize this as the miracle of human ingenuity and perseverance that had become one of the North’s symbols, manifesting the Duke’s iron will and strive for change – Via Draconis. It stretched for hundreds and thousands of kilometers across Norden, connecting Port Leon in the east to Narta in the west while passing through each and every capital city of the Limerian territories. But it was not the sheer length of this road that made it so special, rather, it was its construction. Every inch of it was plaved with carefully lain stone blocks that resembled the scales of a giant serpent and had thus earned it the name Snake-road amongst the locals. This was the main artery through which the blood of the North flowed in form of goods, messengers, and soldiers. Since it was under the direct supervision of the Duke, this was the fastest and most secure path any merchant and traveler could take when they wanted to cross the lands. No bandit was foolish enough to risk incurring the wrath of the Beast of Norden. And yet, tonight, someone was brazen enough to try.

As Via Draconis snaked its way through a small mountain pass, it entered some flatter lands turned into marshes from the recent heavy rains. Tall grass, bushes, and crooked trees merged to form a traitorous thicket where land and water were hidden by innocently looking patches of green slush and moss. Under these conditions, Snake-road was the only safe and solid ground one could rely on for travel, but an unlucky carriage had left its security and was now stuck in the mud with a broken axis and tilting to the side. The shriek of hurt and frightened animals filled the air. From the two horses pulling the coach, one had dropped limp on the ground with a spear sticking out of its neck. Its companion, obviously tripped by the dead body, was now flailing around with a broken leg and threatened to destroy the already damaged wagon. Several more frightened neighs could be heard from the direction of the marshy forest as their unfortunate riders lay motionless near the carriage they were protecting. The low groans coming from some of them were the only indications that they weren’t all dead.

Five dark figures approached the coach, dust, grime, and blood splatters covering their clothes and armor. A young, tall man split from the group and went towards the agonizing horse. One swift move of his sword and the animal dropped lifeless in the mud. The rest of the assailants encircled the damaged wagon with grim expressions.

“Do you think we’ve killed them?” a bear-like man asked, resting his heavy mace on his boot.

“Who cares? It wasn’t our fault they decided to run,” a cranky old voice replied.

“If they are dead, we have failed our orders.” The third man lowered his sword a bit and his freckled face twisted in worry.

“Why are you dillydallying?” a woman cut them coldly. “Let’s finish our task.”

The woman who spoke last approached the carriage door and tried opening it without success.

“You’ve locked yourself in?” she mumbled and her fist landed on the red-gold painted wood. “Get out, Elgar! We are not here to kill you but if you continue resisting we might change our minds.”

No answer came from inside. The woman leaned in, getting close to one of the latticed windows when a sturdy hand pulled her back.

“Don’t, my lady.” As she turned around, she saw that the one grabbing her shoulder was the man who killed the horse. “You might get hurt if you are not careful.”

The woman only nodded and then waved at her burly companion.

“Want to break them out, Thomas?”

“With pleasure, Lady Sigurd,” he promptly answered and in two large strides was already standing before the carriage door. “Step aside.”

His heavy mace split the air with a hissing sound and landed on the door with a loud crunch. Red and gold wood splinters flew around as a large gaping hole formed in the side of the carriage. Swinging his weapon over his shoulder, Sir Thomas peeked inside the coach’s darkness. In the next moment, he twisted to the side escaping a thin sharp blade and the shaking hand guiding it towards his face. Without hesitation, the man grabbed his attacker by the arm and yanked him out. There was a shriek and a youth of seventeen or eighteen landed in the mud, his body quickly being pressed down and immobilized by the horse-killer.

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“Good job, Sir Aiden!” bellowed Thomas Argente and returned to the carriage, while Allen and Baron Firmon dashed towards them. “Let’s see if I can catch bigger fish the second time. Get out, Elgar, or I’ll be dragging you out by the neck!”

No one responded.

Growing impatient, Baron Firmon kneeled down and pressed his dagger on the petrified youth’s throat.

“Stop wasting my time, Rowell, or I’ll butcher that unlucky spawn of yours here and now!” he yelled loudly then pressed the blade a bit harder and said in a hushed tone. “Start screaming and begging, kid, and hope that your old man values you more than he values his loyalty to Norden!”

No further persuasions were needed.

“F-father! P-please! Father, s-save me! I d-don’t want to d-die! Father!”

There was some rustling inside the carriage and a disheveled blond head peeked out, a trickle of blood running down its temple. Fast like an attacking snake, Thomas Argente grabbed the man’s collar and dragged him out completely. Soon, the slightly plump body of Baron Rowell was lying side by side with his son in the cold mud. Behind his well-trimmed mustache and beard, his face was twisted in fear. His shaking hands desperately grabbed the small amulet hanging from his neck.

“I-in the n-name of the Two Fahters,” he stuttered, “what is the meaning of this? Who are you? You attacked and killed my men! You’ve threatened mine and my son’s lives! What do you want? If it is ransom, I can pay you your weight in god…”

“Did you go blind when you hit your head, old weasel?” Baron Firmon clicked his tongue. “You know very well who we are, so, stop pretending.”

“L-lord Harald?!” The captive blinked, his face turning even paler when recognizing his assailants. “Lord Thomas? Lady Sigurd? A-and is that… Sir Allen? W-what is the meaning of this? Why did you ambush us? Who gave you the right? I demand an explanation!”

“You demand?” Baroness De Vindur spat in his face and before anyone could stop her, punched the man straight in the nose.

“Father!” The youth screamed and tried to jump up but Sir Aiden and Allen De Mar kept him in place.

“You dare demand anything from us?” Lady Sigurd ignored the commotion and loomed over the whimpering, bleeding Baron Rowell. “You have voided all of your rights the moment you colluded with the Red Hands.”

“W-what?! W-wait!” The man on the ground wiped away the blood from his nose, his eyes glaring at her in terror. “These are lies! Insinuations! How could you believe such slander without any proof?”

“Oh, there is enough proof to fill a library,” Baron Firmon smirked. “Even if you weren’t involved with the Red Hands and the slave traders, exploiting a mine in secret and tax evasion is more than enough reason to chop off your head.”

“Mines? What mines? These are all lies! Fabrications!” Baron Rowell crawled up to Thomas Argente, attempting to grab onto his clothes, but was met with a kick.

“Keep your hands off of me, you traitor!”

“Y-you… you all have plotted this! This is your doing!” Lord Elgar’s fingers clenched again around his amulet, smearing blood over the black gem in the middle. “The Two Gods will punish you! Even if I die, the Duke will punish you for this!”

“And who do you think send us here?” Lady Sigurd hissed. “Even he doesn’t want to dirty his hands with trash like you.”

Turning around, she motioned at Sir Aiden and Allen De Mar.

“Tie him up and let’s move. We’ve wasted enough time. If we ride through the night we will be back in Ildemar by noon.”

The two knights nodded and were about to fulfill her order when the sounds of a mocking giggle startled everyone.

“I don’t think that would be necessary.” The voice coming out of Baron Rowell’s mouth sounded unnaturally calm and made everyone shiver. “You think you’ve cornered me? You dogs think that you and your bastard of a master have the right to detain me? To judge me? Idiots!”

A sudden gust of wind hit the barons almost toppling them down, driving them a few steps backward. In the center of the whirlwind stood Elgar Rowell and laughed like a madman. Pieces of the broken amulet slipped between his bloody fingers.

“You wanted a fight?” he screeched, lifting a hand to his mouth and swallowing the small black gem in it. “I will give you a fight! I will purge you and next is that peasant dirtying the ducal throne! G-gagh!”

Lord Elgar choked and bent in two, his face twisting in anger and malice. The wind around him picked up, carrying a rotting smell that intensified with every gale.

“W-what the hell is going on?” Allen De Mar muttered, supporting the limp body of Rowell's son who was a breath away from fainting. “How can he use magic?!”

“Look out!” Sir Aiden shouted and jumped at them, dragging both to the ground just in time. The blade of a halberd split the air at the place where Allen’s head had been.

Rolling in the mud, they scrambled up only to see a sight that made their blood freeze. The five guards from Baron Rowell’s escort, who had been strewn on the ground half-conscious or dying, were now standing up, weapons in hand, while their blood kept flowing out of their wounds. Their faces were like expressionless masks and their eyes had turned completely black and soulless.

“Let’s see how long you’ll last, you dogs,” Baron Rowell giggled. In the last remaining light, everyone could see that his own eyes looked like two shards from a starry night sky. “After you die, your souls are mine!”