--- Tolwin

After the blessing, many of the mercenaries began to look at Tolwin in a very different way.

All those years he had been those people's healer, tending to their wounds and needs, but in less than a hour he became their beacon of hope. There were some who wanted to pray with him, others who bowed in respect as he passed by and even some swearing to him that they would have fought with bravery, to honour the gift he had granted to the whole company.

Is this... What being a paladin is supposed to be?

The priest had lived a long life, but never once he had been treated with such respect. Even when he was a prominent member of the Order, nobody ever showed to be grateful for his services. He realized how much those men trusted him. They believed in his words of salvation to the point that they would have gladly put their lives in his hands, just because of a meaningless promise. And seeing so many people relieved by it, Tolwin had to admit that maybe it wasn't meaningless at all.

Meanwhile, despite those moments of bonding, the tension for the battle kept growing. The mercenaries covered inside the ruins, guarding the three entrances of what used to be the ancient castle's courtyard. Yet, they were clearly too few for a place that big.

Lowan came down from his spot on the staircase, the only one that was still standing, fully dressed in armour. Strangely, the sword of his father was attached to his belt. No matter how much effort he put into it, Tolwin couldn't remember a single time when his friend had used the White Talon in an actual battle. He had become so used to see it on its pedestal in the pavilion that he couldn't even guess if it was still in fighting condition.

"Nice work, earlier," said the commander. "I don't know what you did, but our men seem to have regained their will. For that, you have my thanks."

"It was nothing special," replied the priest, pointing at the weapon. "However, judging from that I see that a certain someone has finally decided to give himself a chance."

Lowan glanced at the Talon, with a smile.

"I might have figured out a mistake or two of mine recently. Who knows?"

Tolwin laughed. He was glad that his old friend had found a way to deal with his past, but that wasn't enough to soften his concerns. The battle ahead of them would have been extremely difficult, and Lowan wasn't in any need for those kinds of distractions. His decisions, now more than ever, would have made a big difference in their survival.

"Tolwin," went on the man. "I guess that you know one thing or two about facing those necromancers. Is there anything I should be aware of?"

"I'll be honest with you," sighed the priest. "Every time we lose a soldier, he will probably rise and become our enemy. The undead can be stopped by my magic, but I fear that I won't be able to be everywhere at once. Not to mention that if I'm fighting, there will be no healing."

"Yeah, I had already guessed that," commented Lowan. "The boys who went to the mansion said that cutting their head off is enough to kill them for good. I have told the men of this weakness, but I'm well aware that many of us won't survive this night."

"The walking corpses Roric and the others met weren't controlled by the necromancer directly. The ones we are about to fight will be faster and stronger."

"We'll have to find a way to beat them, nonetheless."

An awkward silence fell between them. For a second, Tolwin almost felt that his friend was conflicted about what to say, but he had to wait until Lowan turned the other way to actually hear it.

"So... You already have a plan, do you?"

"Yes. More or less," answered the priest.

"And will you make it out alive?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, thanks for everything you've done all this time, Tolwin. When this battle is over, many things will change."

"You don't have to thank me. Ultimately, the decision was yours to make. Even if you didn't believe you would have made a great count, I always thought that you were a good leader at least. Don't forget that."

Lowan waved and walked away, headed for the front lines. For the first time since the day of their meeting, Tolwin could say that he looked in peace.

***

--- Roric

Roric and the other former recruits gathered in a circle, near one of the fires.

"I heard that we are already surrounded" said Meran. "But with this damn fog we can't be sure. I can't see anything, and it's so frustrating!"

"The patrols went out but came back at once," explained Rata. "The further you go, the thicker it gets."

"It must be Rickhart's doing. Tolwin told me that the necromancers like to use fear to their advantage," commented Roric. "We'll have to follow the orders and hope for the best."

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"Screw the orders!" grumbled the boy from Guhrien. "Let's head straight for him, and cut his head off. I want revenge. Revenge for Demios!"

"Calm down. You saw what he's capable of. Put your faith in Tolwin and the commander."

"Yeah, speaking of which," stepped in Frauli. "You did know that he was a paladin all along?"

"Yes..." answered the young mercenary. "I'm sorry if I kept it secret. He and his Order aren't exactly in good terms."

"I knew that there was something behind the strange trip you two went on. You suddenly got quicker and better with the sword. Did he teach you some of his tricks?"

"No, not at all. Just a couple of moves. There wasn't a lot of time."

"It doesn't matter what he taught him. As long as it helps us tonight," said Meran, who looked even more eager to fight than on the previous days.

"I agree," concluded the shieldbearer. "That monster is responsible for the death of Demios. He was like a brother to me, and I won't show any pity towards that murderer. This ends tonight."

All of the nodded, in silence. To be completely honest, Roric didn't feel ready for the battle at all. He had grown so close to those boys and Tolwin during the years. He obviously knew most if not all of the other mercenaries, but his first real companions had become like a second family for him. For a long time his mind had been far away from the thoughts of what had happened in his village, but now those memories were suddenly coming back to him.

I don't want to see them go. Still, it's not like I could protect them from a necromancer. What if I help Tolwin? No, he said to stay with them... Like Demios did. How can I make this choice?

Roric had joined the company as a weak child, growing into a fairly skilled fighter over the years. Sometimes thinking about Spjaldir and his parents still brought sadness and grief, but he had also learned that the past was in the past. His friends were there for him now, Tolwin too was there. The old man in particular had begun to feel like some sort of a father to him.

"No matter what happens, let's survive this together," he said, with a bright smile. "We can do it if we trust each other like the other times."

"Also, we have the power of a paladin on our side," commented Meran. "Even if he is a little rusty, that hammer he carries seems dangerous enough."

Frauli stood up, and grabbed his shield. He seemed strangely nervous.

"I wish I could share your optimism, guys. I... I'll be in the frontline, you know. That means that I might be among the first to fall if things go bad."

The others remained silent, their positive attitude crumbling on itself. Roric tried to think about a way to cheer the shieldbearer up, but in the end he didn't make it in time.

"Everyone at their posts!" yelled a familiar voice.

It was captain Ugrin, their former instructor. He was dressed in armour and ready to fight.

"Captain," replied Frauli. "How about one last toast?"

"I'm afraid there is no time" said the man. "Maybe after the battle, if someone still stands. Now go, all of you. Everyone will be needed tonight."

Three of them scattered, leaving Roric alone with Ugrin. It wasn't like the young mercenary didn't know where to go, but there was a question he wanted to ask to the captain before the battle.

"What is it, Roric? It's clear that you have something to say."

"I... I'd like to know what are your feelings for this fight, captain. Are we going to make it?"

The man thought about it for a moment, then he sat on a rock with a sigh.

"You are concerned about your companions, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," answered the boy. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," went on the captain. "I can't help but thinking that we'll be all slaughtered before sunset, yet... Something tells me there's a small chance of making it out of this with our lives. You young ones should be very careful, however. All of you have become good fighters, but I fear that your skills won't nearly be enough this time."

Well, that's new. It's almost like he... Didn't train us for this? Yeah, that must be it. Like Tolwin said, all he taught us was to fight against opponents we could predict.

"So, it's up to luck?"

"There's no place for luck on a battlefield, son. Making the right choice at the right time is what matters most. Why did you ask this?"

"It's nothing, I just wanted to hear your opinion, captain."

Roric thanked him, and rushed towards his post. He had hoped to at least clear some of his doubts with that question, but he was still uncertain of what to do. Had he ignored his mentor's advice and helped him to kill the necromancer, the battle would have been won in a short time. But what about his friends? The boy wasn't ready to leave them alone.

Not to mention that his life too was in danger.

***

The mercenaries waited for the enemy all together.

Roric was sitting behind one of the piles of rubble with Rata, and could clearly see Meran twenty meters to their left. Frauli was on the other side of the ruins, the one that was less protected, with the few shieldbearers that remained. The unnerving silence was disturbed only by the crackling of some fires, which lit the inner area, and the occasional prayers the soldiers addressed to the Makers.

"Whatever happens," said the boy from Ekhar, all of a sudden, "It was an honor fighting beside you."

Those words sounded really strange, coming from Rata. It was true that he had become a lot more talkative since the death of Demios, but this was the first time he was willingly showing some kind of feeling. Roric looked at him, puzzled.

"It... It's the same for me, I guess," he answered. "Sorry, hearing that from you surprised me. You are always so silent, Rata."

The other mercenary nodded, still gazing to the fog.

"At first I didn't know the language. I came from the North, alone. Nobody would teach me, because I was born in Ekhar. But I listened and learned the tongue," he explained. "You know what? Being silent made me understand one thing. Most times, there was no need for words. I don't like those who talk too much."

"Like me?"

"No, not like you. You talk because you can't act, usually."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Today feels... Different," said Rata. "I know that one of us will die. Me, you, one of the others. At least you will have a memory of me now."

For a long time, Roric had thought there was something broken inside that boy's head. Maybe because he was from a different country, or maybe because of his past. By now he knew that behind a mask of coldness hid a person just like any other, who saw him and the rest of the recruits as friends. And that person was probably too proud to admit that he feared to lose them as well.

"Don't worry, Rata," said the boy, patting the back of his companion. "We can still win."

Rata shivered when Roric's hand touched him. Physical contact, even for encouragement, was probably something he wasn't used to.

"Stay alive, then," he replied, nervously. "If, and I say if, we survive this, staying silent for the rest of my days will be a small price to pay."

"As you wish," laughed the other young mercenary. "But it's not like you'll be that different from now."

The two remained there, without saying anything more, for a couple of minutes.

"Don't you dare telling the others about this conversation. They'll make fun of me until the end of times."

"That was obvious, Rata."

I'm sure you'll tell them when the time is right.