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Part 1:
Death of the Chivalrous
Ansel
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1
A Dream Beyond
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Someone once told me that soldiers can fly.
To be honest, I'd always thought that had been either a drunken rambling, or some sort of deep metaphor I'd completely failed to understand. But, as I soared through the air, feeling the taste of blood saturate my mouth, I finally understood the truth of it. Soldiers most certainly can fly. Most often, they do so after being thrown high into the air by a brutal blow, and sometimes, if they were lucky, they wouldn't be conscious when the fall came.
Soldiers would fly high above the battlefields, above the mayhem and death. Then, they would land again, crashing in a heap of blood and mud, and they would not get back up.
I was in flight now, somehow still clinging on to life. The force of whatever had hit me was fading from my body, as the ground below me grew closer, then rushed up to meet me. My stomach flipped as I plummeted down, sending up a wave of mud and dust with me.
I landed hard, rolling over onto my back, spitting out dirt and gasping for breath. The sky above me was unbelievably beautiful: A clear, deep-blue canvas that stretched on forever, without a single cloud in sight.
I was so captivated by it, I almost didn't notice the pain I was in. A low, quiet ache resonated across every inch of my body, reminding dulled muscles that they had been injured. My head spun as I lay on the ground, staring up, and wondering how I'd ever come to be there.
Slowly, the world became clearer around me. I could hear shouting in the distance. Shouting, the sound of hooves pounding against the dirt, of steel on steel…
A shadow loomed over me, blotting out the sky. I blinked, struggling to focus on the figure that stood there. Tall, easily more than two meters in height, grotesquely muscled, and broad of shoulder. It wore a patchwork armor of several rusted metal plates, tied together with strings of leather.
Even to my jumbled, pain-wracked mind, it became clear what this was—An enemy of mankind. Some distant instinct made me try to move, but I couldn’t seem to find the strength to do even that.
Wordlessly, the thing raised a sword over its head, preparing to bring it down upon me. Its eyes were cold, like shards of ice, and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Then, those same eyes bulged wide open, its jaw dropping as if in surprise. The sword fell away from the orc’s hands, and I watched as it collapsed face-first into the earth beside me. Behind it, a man stood, holding a blood-slicked blade of his own. His brown hair was matted by blood and sweat, his skin covered with a layer of mud and grime. He glanced at the fallen enemy for a moment, then turned to look down at me.
"Zell's oath," he cursed quietly, shaking his head as if in disbelief. "Even after that, you're still alive?" He knelt down beside me, gingerly prodding my neck with one finger. His face, which was colored by exhaustion, sort of reminded me of a fox's; something about the shape of his eyes, and the curve of his mouth just gave me that impression.
Slowly, I managed to crack open my jaw. When I spoke, my voice was scratchy and thin. "Am I…in…?" My head abruptly exploded with pain. The simple act of talking made me feel as if a thousand nails were being pounded into my skull from the inside, making me shiver and feel nauseous. I tried to speak again, but my tongue felt swollen, too big for my mouth.
"Hey, cool it down," the man said, placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. "Don't try to talk yet, and don't try to move 'lest you want your head to fall off altogether. Shit, Keane," he added, looking over my shoulder, "would you hurry it up?"
From behind me, I heard a vague disgruntled mumble in retort, before yet another pair of hands was placed on the top of my head. The contact nearly made me scream, but at the very moment that pain came, it suddenly disappeared, along with the nails inside my skull and the nausea. I was left feeling light headed and tired, slumping back.
"That should do it," another man's voice said, coming from somewhere above me. The newcomer was slight: Very obviously skinny underneath the loose shirt and thick purple cloak that covered him. His shaggy brown hair fell loosely down to his neck, and he wore a pair of rounded spectacles over his green eyes. All in all, he looked like he belonged in a library or a monastery more than he did in a battlefield.
The first man lowered himself down to my level, kneeling beside me. He held up three fingers in front of my face. "Look here, Ansel. How many fingers am I holding up?"
…Ansel? Right. Right. That was my name.
My eloquent response was to vomit. Though my stomach was empty, I still retched and spat out a little moisture, the remainder acting as little more than an irritant to my throat. "...Who are you guys?" I finally managed to ask.
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"Shit, man, did the bastard knock you stupid?" he asked. "You don't remember anything? No name, no rank, not even the slightest clue who either of us are?"
I shook my head slowly, trying to clear it. "...Why am I here? Just now, wasn't I by a river? Where did—"
My words were cut short when he flicked my forehead, not too lightly. "Ah, hell," he said with a sigh. "Guess we're doin' introductions again. I'm Hicks," he said, jabbing a thumb at his own chest. He then gestured to the other man. "Specs here is Keane. Ringin' any bells now?"
I closed my eyes, trying to get my bearings. Though many things were foggy, clarity was slowly returning to me.
These men were mercenaries: members of the free company known as the Black Hounds. Hicks was one of its lieutenants, whilst Keane was a mage, whose role essentially kept the entire free company together.
And I was... a foot soldier from the fortress-city of Ken.
I closed my eyes, and focused even further on that information.
I was part of a detachment of soldiers, sent with the Black Hounds to a town far to the north, right near the border. And... our mission was to defend it from... some type of invaders...?
I frowned at my inability to remember what our enemy was.
They were... aberrants? Orcs and imps and goblins, ruled by...
By the...
"Agh, dammit," I cursed, as my temples throbbed again. I raised a hand to rub at the back of my head. "Gods, what even happened to me? My head felt like it was about to split in half..."
"Well, you're not far off," said Keane. Offering me a grim smile, he turned his hands, giving me a look at his palms. At first, I thought he was wearing a pair of tight red gloves. But then I smelled the strong metallic stench, and noticed the way light glinted off them.
"That... That's a lot of blood," I said, dumbly stating the obvious.
Wordlessly, Keane nodded, and then he pointed to the ground behind me. The spot where my head had been laying just a minute ago was entirely painted red by a startlingly large pool of blood. My blood. It spread out at least a good three feet in all directions.
Hesitantly, I raised the shaky hand with which I had just rubbed my head. When it came into view, it too was painted entirely red.
like you are now, you know? Either that, or lucky as hell. I can't tell which."
"Can't say I feel all that lucky at the moment," I admitted, rubbing at my head again.
"You'll feel better soon enough," Keane assured me. "Either way, though, we don't have time to stand around here while you convalesce. The rest of the company has already gone ahead of us. We'll have to catch up with them as quickly as possible."
Hicks nodded to him, then clapped my shoulder. "Get back inside the town, Ansel," he said, gesturing to the high walls nearby, which I'd completely failed to notice up till just then. The town itself was a fairly large settlement, nestled in a valley between two hills. The walls encircling it were sensibly built—tall and thick, and dotted with a handful of towers.
"Get yourself some rest, and find someone to get a proper look at your head." With that, Hicks and Keane turned and began to set off at a jog.
I struggled back onto my feet. My legs were wobbly, but they held me up, and I staggered forward. "Wait!" I called after them. "I'll go with you!"
Both men stopped in their tracks and turned, looking at me as though I'd just said something outrageously stupid.
...Which, to be fair, I had.
"Uh, no," said Keane. "No you won't. What you're gonna do is fuck off back to safety and get yourself seen to. You've already done your bit for gods and country today, Ansel. Don't go pushing yourself any further than that."
The rational part of me knew that Keane was in the right here. I'd just recovered from a fatal blow a minute ago, and now I was practically begging to jump right back into the fray. The smart move would be to shut up, let a surgeon have a look at me, and rest.
...But that didn't sit well with me in the slightest. There was no way I could lay down while my friends were fighting, risking life and limb against the monsters. Not when I was right there. Not when I could still stand alongside them. So I stood strong, looked them both in the eye, and repeated myself: "I'll go with you."
I didn't bother to hold a stare-down with the two of them. Not while our comrades were fighting and dying nearby. I simply walked forward past them, and towards the battlefield that lay just beyond the hill.
"Oh, you gotta be...! Stop! Stop, dammit!" I heard the sound of footsteps quickly approaching me, before Hicks' hand landed on my shoulder and whirled me around. Before I could open my mouth to argue, he shouted, "What the hell are you thinking, Ansel?! It's one thing to fight the Legion half-dead, but are you planning to go kill the bastards with your bare hands?!" He grasped at my wrists and brought them up to my eye level.
Irritatingly enough, though, he was right: I didn't have any weapons on me. My sword had probably been knocked away from my grasp when I was attacked by the orc.
Still, I had no intention of backing down. "Guess I'd better find myself a sword or spear, then," I told him. Even to my ears, it didn't sound terribly convincing.
"Ures' balls," Hicks released my hands and palmed his face with a groan. "You are as dumb as you are stupid."
"Hell with it, then," Keane said, throwing his hands up into the air. "You wanna fight so badly? Then here." He approached a man just a few paces away from us, whose head and arms were twisted at unnatural angles, and pulled his sword and shield free. "At least arm yourself, you damn fool."
I hesitated for a moment as he thrust the armaments towards me. "I... is it really alright to take this?"
Keane rolled his eyes and jabbed his thumb towards the dead man. "Right, because he needs it so much more than you do."
I hesitated for a moment longer, before accepting them. I grabbed the sword, hooking its scabbard to my belt, and strapped the shield to my right arm.
"And do be careful," Keane said. "You've already gotten yourself killed once. You'll not be lucky enough to get back up a second time."
I nodded to them, and they nodded back to me. And with that we set off.