'Teril doesn't seem to be the place. The people are friendly but the customs are weird. Still, my stay here was a pleasant one. Tomorrow my journey resumes into the Federation of Sta. I think I would pay a visit to Peleva. My bones thrums just thinking about it. A lost city, a mystery unsolved. Peleva awaits my certain arrival to its dusted gates. If only I am not alone. If only the others cared. But ifs only stall my journey. I must continue.'

----------------------------------------

Fredrich hated what they are doing.

They open their mouths and words come out. Sometimes words with melodies- bad ones. Sometimes laughter. Oh how he despised laughter. It was as if they were not at the edge of the world, awaiting the next attack of the Ninevans.

And his annoyance would soon deepen. Those two were already strutting toward him, bearing their mess tins. Gren and Trest they were called, names he would rather forget but too late now. They squatted beside the rock he was sitting on, flanking him... and smiling. Oh they smiled.

"Trest and I have been squabbling about something Fred." Gren said, pausing to drown his chin on his soup.

Ah yes. They mean to include me. How cute. How unnecessary.

Gren pointed at the other soldiers having breakfast. "The Rooster. Why do you this legion is named as such? Seems to be a strange name for the King's Legion eh? Trest says that it's the talon. A rooster's talon is lethal. I say that's too simple. My guess is that a rooster's comb looks like a crown and so King Timothy named his personal legion as the Rooster. So, your comment on the matter."

It's because, Fredrich thought, when King Timothy was still a prince, he was assigned with the original Rooster legion in guarding a castle called Knightsend. He disciplined the garrison, ordering a march in full armor every dawn. They say he would rise before any of the soldiers and would crow them into a march. They called him Rooster Prince and so the name transferred to the legion when he became the King.

"Don't know. Don't care. Bugger someone else." Fredrich said.

"Well I do think a rooster's comb has nothing in common with a crown." Trest pushed the issue.

"And your explanation about talons is unerred? An eagle's talon is longer, sharper and deadlier. Why would the King choose a measly rooster?" Gren rebutted, leaning closer and resting his sharp elbow on Fredrich's leg.

"Because of reasons!" Trest patted Fredrich's back, forcing him to cough water. "He's the king. He has reasons unknown to us."

"But reasons have roots and your explanation is built upon soft ground. It's the crown."

"The talon."

"The crown I say."

"Talon"

"It's neither you lumbering fools!" Fredrich was wide-eyed, shivering by the noises they disturb his meal with. "The rooster," he raised a stiff finger to both their irking faces. "Came from King Timothy's time at Knightsend. You know what happened at Knightsend? No because you don't read and you just bicker and talk and laze around and disturb me."

Gren blinked to his bellow. "So, what happened at Knightsend again?"

Fredrich poured the remaining contents of his mess tin in his mouth. He hurried away from the buggers, face burning as it always did.

He ascended the stairs leading to the wall's top. A hundred and fifty-nine steps, he counted. He was winded after the act but preferred being short of breath than listening to those two.

The Terpet Wall was amazing, perhaps one of the sunshines in this world. It extended for leagues, both ends too far for sight. The width allowed a plethora of defenses- catapults mostly loaded with Vanadian Fire. Guards in full armor patrolled in groups of five, weapons at the ready and sights keen for Shadow Beasts.

An ample plain sprawled to the north, carpeted by grasses and trees. The same sight was to the south. In a way Terpet Wall was a galley in an ocean. They were alone- isolated- still yet heading to a direction unknown. They were not abandoned thought it felt that way.

It was a perilous place. Everything reminded him of that. The guards, the wall, the forts, the siege weapons. Despite the calmness and the long respite in the enemy's assault, despite the cool wind and graceful sight, the Ninevans were a threat looming just beyond the delicate grasslands.

How could they laugh when they could be dead this very night? How could they chatter about the King and the Queen's greatness when those two were the same ones who forced this fate upon them? How could they think of loyalty if it doesn't exist? Living was a bleak act and hiding beneath false smiles wouldn't make it better.

"Now that's a man." Someone said. He was sitting on one of the wall's parapets. He wore a uniform marked special with its green hue. The coat was fastened by a single button in the stomach, showing the underlying mail. On his chest was the mark of a cane and a sword crossed below a crown. He was reading a book. "Some people stare at ladies. Some at weapons. You, on the other hand, wastes time staring at nothing. People really are a diverse bunch."

"What do you know of people - of humans- Ninevan?"

"Ah, the tongue is crisp I see. But the mind is shallow." He chuckled. "Your perspective is not unique. Others, especially younger ones, still view me as an enemy. You are not incorrect. My kind and your kind have been waging war for two decades, thus this wall, this fort," The Ninevan looked at him. "And that frown on your face. The name is Ice."

"I didn't ask."

"Nor did I for your intrusion to my reading but here you are, distracting me with your weird stares in the unknown."

"Then I'll be leaving. I see no sense in this conversation."

"No. Stay. Your distraction is a far better punishment than further boredom with this stupid book." Ice clapped the book. "And something tells me you desire to be away from the rest of your kind."

Fredrich sat on the next parapet. The wind was fresh here though a steep fall awaited the careless.

"The book," Fredrich said, cursing his curiosity. "What is it about?"

The Ninevan threw the book on his lap. The sudden act flinched Fredrich near into falling. Fredrich glared back but flipped the book after. It wasn't what he expected. The language was not human.

"What language is this?" He asked.

"I don't know. And it's not a book, it is a journal. Ashkara's journal. Your monarchs were hoping for translation but nobody had. Perhaps your brooding into the vast plains developed you a gift in translation. Enlighten me then, what is your name again?"

"I'd rather not inform an enemy."

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"I'll call you Urine then."

"Fredrich. My name's Fredrich."

"A good name, better than Urine. Your mother has a better penchant in dealing names than myself. Well Fredrich, the journal is yours. It is a gift from your friend Ice."

"Friend is too brazen of a statement even for a Ninevan. You annoy me."

"And you, me. Annoyance is a strange feeling. It is a teetering distance from anger yet the difference is clear. So you don't hate me then? Good. Hate and camaraderie don't mingle well."

"You are not my comrade either."

"Because of my race?"

"Yes," Fredrich answered, disappreciating the lubricated conversation. "You may hide behind that badge but the fact is that you are a traitor. You betrayed your kind and acts as if you are one of us. A betrayer will always be a betrayer."

"I can't say that we are in a smooth agreement. I am not a traitor. I prefer being considered as reversely loyal."

"I am not pertaining to your affiliation but at the speed in which you changed sides. You waned like a short-rooted grass."

"You found some truth in the matter. I waned, yes. I do remember fighting against you and then fighting with you the next day. I turned from my kind and bared my fangs instead. But am I to be judged by the same side benefiting from my betrayal? I prefer not to be."

"And what prevents you from reversing your loyalty again?"

"Nothing. You know what I am. You know what I can do. I could kill you after this sentence and this sentence is done now." He paused. "But I didn't. And if your trust in me is really rusted then it is hypocritical for you to stay one merlon away."

Fredrich nodded. Ninevan traitors like this one had been sworn into the defense of the walls. It was not that he hated this Ninevan. Ice chose and he trekked the path of being a traitor. "So, this book."

"Yours. Your world is too abundant in beauty. I'm not wasting a single glance on that book."

"Thank you."

"No, thank you." The Ninevan's pause was too long for comfort. "You are new. All you newcomers have that stupid look. Yours just happens to be worse. Have you seen a Shadow Beast, Fredrich?"

"The walls had worked well so far that I didn't get the pleasure seeing one down south. Yet stories travel."

"Stories are not facts. I've heard them too, in my pleasant trips down south, I've heard the rumors you have about these beasts I once fought with. And I must say, or rather repeat, stories are not facts."

Fredrich agreed. He hated idle talks for the matter. Facts turned the world. Truth would always be superior to lies. His irk toward Gren and Trest was also driven by the same reason. Those two and the others lived under pleasant lies.

He held the book high. Ashkara was still being revered as God in Wismar but the followers were dwindling. Most now believed that Ashkara was a Ninevan before the Great Disaster. So much of the mysteries shrouding the world still hazed truths. "Tell me then. Shadow Beasts."

"Perhaps in the next of times." The Ninevan slid off the parapet. He patted its uniform and cocked its head. "I am hungry. Human food are just too enticing to ignore."

Fredrich followed not long after. The afternoon was reserved for training. Old men in distinguished uniform taught basics regarding the spear. It was surprising that the spear- the humblest of weapons- actually offered complexity.

"Aim for the Beast's head" The old soldier said, breaking the air with a thrust. "Aim true strong. Do not falter for a moment of distraction would see you killed."

Right, Fredrich thought. A moment of distraction is lethal indeed. Monsters devour the unfocused. Even people take advantage of the uncommitted.

His body ached like how it should that evening. He fell into slumber, nonchalant to Gren and Test's bothers. It was a difficult life. Being levied into this isolated killing zone was a curse by the monarchs. Two more years, he thought. Two more years of surviving would bring him back home to Solon. But to that he didn't find solace as he would live under the tyranny of that man again. Maybe living here would be better than going home.

No, he decided. Here and back home were equal in bleakness. Life had a talent in providing a unique flavor of misery for every single location.

***

"Shadow Beasts are mysteries as magic is." The Ninevan traitor said the next day. It stood now stood on the parapet, arms spread as if wings. "You asked for description. Though I know more than others- with personal account as my basis- my knowledge equates to breadcrumbs."

"Can I outrun them?"

"Your question betrays your personality. Other men would ask if they could defeat one. While you," He looked back."Alas I am here not to be your guidance but merely to impress my knowledge and kill boredom. As for your query, I think you cannot. The small ones, probably. But the larger ones? You better have a horse for that. A quick one. And smart. Dull horses often lose their wits and would rather neigh than run."

"And if I run, how far would they chase?"

"Still bent on running I see. Chase is a difficult subject to discuss. Shadow beasts are diverse as much as humans and Ninevans are. Some liked chasing as much as you admire running. Still, I must entice you with the decision of fighting. Because if you run, there would be one man missing by my side. One man could mean the difference between falling and winning. Besides you swore by your flag to stay and defend the realm of man, didn't you?"

"Empty words. Husks. I was forced to oath."

"Ah. That's why you have the gloom in you. As if you are dark clouds. Your life must be pleasant before being dragged here."

"Pleasant. No. I was wealthy, yes. Clothes of silk, ornaments of gold and silver. Gems. Ladies. A mansion not shy of being grand. It wasn't pleasant."

"Comparatively though, is it? Better than farmer boys and miners? Better than urchins in the recesses of cities or muggers beside roads."

"No. Still not better. Living in wealth is not living in happiness."

The Ninevan turned. He looked up and showed a thin smile. "I get you. I was an officer when I was with the other side. I led packs of beasts. Now look at me. I am a lowly member in your humble fort, scorned by young men like you. Even the older men don't talk kindly to me. Still I remain. Why do you think so?"

"Please don't say loyalty."

"I am not of the dramatic kind" Ice chuckled. "Because home was a prison. Yes, I could eat aplenty, my belly swollen and my mouth greased. I have authority being a Councilor. Life was good. But I would have traded those even for a single glimpse of the sun. I remember my first time being bathed under it. I was afraid, terrified of the glowing burning anger above." It spread its arms again, now closing its eyes. "It is not loyalty. Rather I think it was selfishness. The world is too beautiful to ignore, too precious to leave."

Fredrich disagreed with all his being. The world was not precious and beautiful was an empty word to describe it. But looking at the Ninevan being bathed in sunlight, eyes close with tears balling on sides, he couldn't retort.

***

"Where are you going?" Trest again patted his back the next day. The Hadean's grin was an unwelcomed sight after the annoying pat.

"He's been upping the wall" Gren said, eating his lunch. They had venison stew today, cooked with too much salt. "Now, Fred. You are making us sad. Would you rather look at the scenery rather than converse with your friends?"

Fredrich just stared at Gren until the Vanadian showed a shy smile and went back to his stew. He licked the last of the stew and hid his mess tin in their assigned building.

He began the tiring business of ascending the wall. Every step was torment to his stiff leg. There were a hundred and fifty-nine of such torments. He found his legs better suited to the ascent now. The first few days had him grip the brick handrail after the eightieth step.

He didn't know why he was still listening to Ice. It was information he sought at first and Ice had already taught him everything about the Shadow Beast. Maybe his mind just thirsted for the deep conversations.

He was winded after one hundred and thirty steps. Twenty more to go, he thought. A dozen and six. He stepped, each was placed firmly. Soon he was on top.

The same sight welcomed. The parapets, the artillery, the sentries positioned every hundred paces, the patrols. But Ice wasn't there. The parapet the Ninevan always sat on was empty. He went to the parapet and sat.

The wind ruffled his hair. The mellow sun was pleasant to his skin. It was peace. Their world didn't have the sun, the sky, the stars, Ice said. He shut his eyes and forced an imagination of such a world. He found that he cannot.

Should he feel blessed now? Grateful that he was born here and not in Ninev? Or maybe just for the fact that he was born wealthy. Others desire his birthright. A noble, his title said. Despite being stripped of power by King Timothy, nobles still held high positions.

But he cannot feel grateful. People desire what they lack and people only see what they desire. Others desire being him for they lack the status and the wealth. But they were blind as much as he. They see the glimmers, the grand silk clothes, the mansion built on top of a hill. What they don't see was the consequences entailed of being born a noble. Of being a son of that man.

Fredrich's vision caught movement. Subtle, slow, small, yet he saw it. The northern horizon was lined by a certain dark line. He squinted, eye preying on every small detail.

Something was moving toward them. They extended from the far west to the east, unending as the Terpet Wall. He shivered on the realization.

Horns blared, one for every fort. The booming sound was eerie. They didn't stop. They thrummed without halt, singing a song nobody desire.

Strong hands grabbed his shoulder, flinging him away. Ice was in armor. His worry was deep. "Get back" Ice said. "Find your unit."

Fredrich froze. He looked again and the line was clearer now. "Shadows beasts? Those are Shadow Beasts?"

He thought Ice would scold him again for still wasting time. But the Ninevan just stared to the north. His calm and playful demeanor was blasted into worry.

"Yes" Ice said. "They have returned."