“Yes, yes bring it up and then across, lower it down and it should fit into that slot.” Shouted an aging man up to some workers on scaffolding above him. After confirming that the workers heard him, he turned away to face the number of other people vying for his attention.
“You, what do you need?” said the man with his head ringed by gray hair, pointing towards a young man in a green tunic.
“Ser, there seems to be an issue with the stone carvers, they aren’t delivering the base blocks as promised.” The lad flicked his eyes downward in shame as if he was responsible for the failure.
“Haaah” The old man sighed exhaustedly as he looked up for a moment in thought, then brought his attention back to the young man. “Return and tell them I will meet with them on the morrow to speak with them. Go.” With a hand gesture the lad was gone, scurrying off to follow his orders. As the man was about to address the next of his retinue, an unfortunately familiar voice came from behind him.
“Ser Athelend Norah? I need a moment of your time”
Athelend steeled himself for a moment before turning to face the voice and the man it belonged to, the castle steward. The small man always thought himself above others and made no effort to hide that fact. “My liege is concerned about the costs of this endeavor and wishes to clarify the agreement made regarding this matter. That ‘If the costs exceed the agreed upon amount, the necessary funds will be deducted from the commission fee’” The steward had a good nose, the project was costing more money than Athelend anticipated and he was wondering how to let the king know. But in truth, Athelend did not care about the money he received, a long career in engineering had already built him a small fortune, he only agreed to work on this water wheel to keep himself busy in his old age.
“Tell the king not to worry, I have everything under control” Athelend wearily replied.
“Very well, I shall report as such to my Liege.” The steward’s eyes suggested he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. “Good day Ser” The steward turned on his heels and quickly left the construction site, obviously grateful to get away from such rough men.
Athelend, grateful to finally be rid of the steward, took a moment to breathe, and then he resumed dealing with the other members of his retinue. Dishing out orders and solving logistics while keeping an eye on the construction, it wasn’t till nightfall that Athelend finally freed himself from the constant flow of people requiring him for something. As he sent off the last of the group he finally noticed the small Fungili standing at his feet, miraculously untrampled by the crowd of people moving through.
“Here. Letter. Athelend Norah” said the small squishy figure as it pulled an envelope out of its slightly too-large satchel. The small humanoid had trouble holding the envelope above its purple cap, but Athelend reached down and gently plucked the letter from its chubby fingers.
“Thank you,” said Athelend as he offered a few small coins to the small pale hands of the Fungili. The Fungili’s eyes blinked in confusion for a few moments before it understood. It took the coins like a child might take candy, and it beamed in the same way. Athelend waved his hand to dismiss the courier and it took off, in search of its next delivery.
Athelend studied the envelope thoroughly, he noted both the high-quality parchment and the wax seal, depicting a burning sickle. Athelend sighed upon recognizing the crest as belonging to a royal family. Royals are always a pain to deal with. He thought as he slid the unopened envelope into his robes and trudged exhaustedly back to the inn.
The next fortnight went quickly for Athelend as he negotiated, oversaw, argued, corrected, and delegated, until finally, the project was finished. On the day that the water wheel was completed, the King himself came to congratulate him in a public display.
“Well done, Ser Athelend Norah, we of….” Athelend didn’t pay any attention, it was a speech designed to remind the people that the King was still in fact important, that he was responsible for such a creation. Athelend had heard this speech dozens of times before and it never changes. At this point, Athelend knew how to navigate these events better than the people who organized them. Athelend simply shook the hand of the King and then answered a couple of questions and then moved to the back of the crowd. Public recognition was never Athelend’s goal, he cared more about the challenge, how would this construct work, how to build it, how to best utilize it, and so on. Solving the problem was what he was hired to do, and he did it well, Athelend even kept the costs from rising too high. So when the King invited Athelend to a banquet to celebrate, the engineer waved him off, “I appreciate the offer your highness, but I simply wish to return to my wife, whom I have not seen in over 2 months”
“Ah yes, I see,” said the King, eyes lowered with feigned disappointment. “Indeed your wife must be very worried then, I once again thank you for your work and bid you well.”
Athelend bowed to the king and then returned to the inn to pack his luggage. On the carriage from the city, Athelend raised his head and watched the lights from the castle glow in the distance. Royals are a pain, he thought once more.
Athelend returned home later than he would have liked, given his age, so he left luggage still packed in the small round entryway and went to bed. In the morning Athelend found his wife had unpacked most of the luggage while he was asleep. She was not young anymore either yet still she labored on as if she hadn’t aged at all from their wedding day. “Come now Diana, you know I would clean it up myself.” Touted Athelend upon seeing his wife.
“Oh I know, but I don’t want to wait to clean up” Athelend wanted to retort, but this was how she was, and he knew better than to argue. As Athelend was turning away from her, he heard a soft “Oh, what’s this?” from behind him. He turned back around and saw Diana clutching the envelope he had received 2 weeks prior. Oh right, I had forgotten about that, Thought Athelend as he approached his wife.
“Ah yes, a little Fungili delivered that to me a fortnight ago, I was busy so I had yet to open it.” Athelend realized too late the mistake he made.
“A Fungili! Oh! What did he look like? How tall was he? Was his cap green? Or purple?” Said Diana excitedly, her energy far exceeding what her age should allow. Athelend sighed, regretting his blunder. “Oh, oh! Did you remember to pay him?” She asked with the eyes of a begging dog.
“You do know that they get paid by the person who sends the letter right?”
“I know that, but they are working so hard they could do with some more money right? I mean they’re too cute to be working such a hard job.”
Athelend decided that this conversation had gone on long enough “Diana, the envelope remember?”
“Oh right” Said Diana disappointedly, “Here, you should open it” Athelend took the letter from her hand and surveyed the nearby wooden table for a letter opener. He found it and used it to open the envelope. The letter itself was nothing special, it went through the regular platitudes used in requesting his services, but one thing was out of place, or more accurately, absent altogether.
“What is it he wants me to build?” Athelend re-read the letter to see if there was something he missed, this time he made note of the name that the letter was “written on behalf of”. A ‘King Mihail of Windmar’, Athelend didn’t recognize the name of the king, but he did know Windmar, if only by reputation. Windmar was a relatively small country in the east. They had a war every dozen or so years with their neighbor, Tahern, who invaded from over the canyons that separated them. Despite the frequent raids, Windmar was a well-off kingdom due to all the trading with the other neighboring countries, so Athelend would not need to worry about getting paid. But Athelend was considering not responding, due to the suspicious lack of details.
They could at least tell me what they want unless they have other ideas in mind. He thought as he clutched the letter. Diana read it over his shoulder, “Well? What do they want this time? And why can’t they let you rest a little before making you go out again?” It was a point Diana made often, claiming that he was “too old to keep this up” and while Athelend did not disagree, he was nearing his sixtieth solstice, he couldn’t tolerate such inactivity for so long.
“I don’t know what they want, the letter didn’t say,” said Athelend, ignoring the second question. “This king wants to meet me in person to explain in person what he wants”
“So you’re going then?” Diana asked, with a tinge of loneliness in her voice.
Athelend sighed, “Yes, I have to go, royals don’t like it when someone ignores their letters”
Diana looked down and laced her fingers together, then brought up her face with big green eyes, “Do you think that this time, I could come with you? I mean once you leave I don’t get to see you for weeks, and I spend all my time worrying about how you are doing, and–” She stopped herself, “I just want to spend more time with you, and besides I’ve only ever seen you work once, when we met.”
That much was true, Athelend was a young man working on one of his first solo projects, the others were with his teacher or another student, and there was this girl who kept coming by to watch the construction, and Athelend finally mustered the courage to talk to her and ask her out. After that, Athelend did whatever he could to delay the project so he could spend more time with this girl. The client grew increasingly angry with him, but he didn’t care. On the day he was to leave, he was talking to her on the edge of town, looking down trying to figure out how to say goodbye, when suddenly, she grabbed his face and kissed him. Refocusing, Athelend thought about it for a moment, “Are you sure? My work is awfully boring, you know.” Athelend finally said.
“If it gets too boring I’ll just venture around the town, I don’t travel often you know. I would like to see some of the sights of somewhere other than here.”
Athelend considered the idea, it wasn’t terrible as ideas go. This way he didn’t have to worry about his wife being left alone, and it did let her out of the house. After a few moments of not finding a good enough reason to stop her, he relented. “Alright, but do you have someone in mind to take care of the garden? We could be gone for weeks or more.”
“I’ll just have the neighbor’s boy do it, he likes looking at the flowers anyway,” Diana replied confidently and quickly, as if she had this planned for weeks. Athelend eyed his wife, not believing that this was spontaneous.
“If you insist, just listen to me when we’re on the road, I don’t need you wandering off-”
“Dear, dear, look at me,” Diana cupped the side of his face in one hand and looked into his eyes. “I'll be fine”
“... I know, it’s just that the roads are getting more dangerous and I want you to be safe,” said Athelend, grabbing her hand in his. Their gaze held until Athelend was sure that she would be safe, before finally moving away.
“If you’re coming then that means we’ll have to pack even more, so let’s get started.”
“Oh! Yes okay, I’m on it” Said Diana moments before scurrying off to their bedroom.
Athelend looked over his half-packed luggage, thinking, We could’ve just left it packed.
The large doors opened to the Royal Court, adorned with both brass sconces and large red banners, lining the walls and all seemingly pointing Athelend’s eyes toward the figure on the throne. A wide-faced man with graying locks falling to his shoulders. Diana couldn’t help but gape at the opulence around her, turning her head every which way. As the two approached the king, Athelend noticed among the nobles and attendants, a few older men adorning weapons alongside their fancy clothes. Generals, He thought, or retired soldiers. Either way, they must be impressive to be in the royal court. Athelend did not miss the whispers and glances circling the room as the distance closed, he even caught part of one utterance of the spectators around them.
“-ight person for this?”
Now close enough, Athelend saw the bags under the king’s eyes, as well as his drooping posture upon the throne. He was still pondering what could keep the king up so when he and Diana finally reached the king. Athelend knelt on one knee to the king. He nudged his wife to follow suit. Startled, Diana clumsily bent her knee and bowed her head as deep as she could. Any prospective giggles at Diana were quickly silenced by an aggressive glare around the room from Athelend. The Herald that they followed finally spoke up and introduced them to the king and his court.
“My liege, may I present Ser Athelend Norah of Yourjin and his wife, Madame Diana Norah.”
It was only here that the King did raise his head examining both of the figures before him. The bags under the king’s eyes did nothing to hide the piercing gaze of his. Diana was unprepared and couldn’t suppress the shivers down her spine.
“Ser Athelend Norah,” King Mihail’s rough voice echoed around the room. “Firstly, I must thank you for traveling here to Windmar, I hope your journey was uneventful?”
“It was, Your Majesty, though I must admit, I harbored doubts of my purpose during the trek” Athelend’s malice filled the room, and even the soldiers stiffened, but the king remained steadfast. The king straightened on his throne.
“Very well, It is high time I told you what I need from you” King Mihail gestured and many occupants of the room filed out, Athelend noted that the Generals didn’t budge.
What request would require the audience gone? Thought Athelend as the room emptied.
The few remaining guards quickly scanned the dark corners of the hall and then positioned themselves by the great door. One guard then nodded to the captain, who then relayed the nod to the king. The king then leaned forward and began speaking.
Athelend’s head was spinning, in all his years he had never been asked to do this. Even Diana was giving strange looks to both the king and Athelend.
“Wait, so he wants you to…?” Diana trailed off.
“Ser, I am sure you are aware but I am a Civil Engineer, I build Bridges, I build Water Wheels, I even build Dams. But this… this is not something I know how to do. Get one of your engineers to do it because I cannot.” said Athelend.
“I have, I have tried to get my engineers to do it. And every single one of them failed. So I turn to you, you who have been celebrated from Maakos to Nu’Lion as a master of his craft, and I beseech you, to help me stop those Barbarians!” The King pleaded.
“But the fact remains that you want me to build you a fortress, a structure I have never attempted, much less understand.”
“Indeed but that is what I am counting on.”
Athelend shot the king a questioning look.
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“I will give you whatever is necessary to build it, but I need your help to make something that is truly impenetrable. Use whatever you can think of, whatever you can dream of that might make this fortress invincible.”
Athelend thought for a long moment, then gave his answer
“.....Very well, I will do it.”
The king released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“Thank you,” the King said in a small voice, then cleared his throat to return to the voice of a king, “You have until the end of a fortnight to have the building plans ready, after which we will begin construction.”
“At your will, Ser.”
With a nod, the King dismissed Athelend and Diana. Athelend was quiet on the way back to their inn. Diana recognized what was happening, He was already lost in thought. She knew all too well that very little could bring him out of the trance-like state he was in.
The next morning Diana decided to explore the castle town, she asked Athelend if he needed anything while she was at the markets.
“Just parchment, lots and lots of parchment,” Athelend answered absent-mindedly.
When Diana returned that night, she had purchased several things, among them a jewelry box, as well as the parchment that her husband needed. Hearing her return Athelend decided to take a break, he had been thinking all day. He approached Diana and helped her organize her purchases.
“What’s this?” Said Athelend, holding the jewelry box.
“A small lockbox, for my necklace.”
“A jewelry box? Hmm…”
A small gasp turned Diana to face her husband, whose eyes widened and then glazed over as he walked back to the desk, the box still in hand, muttering to himself. As he sat, he was already reaching for his quill. Diana swooped in with the parchment, and the inkpot and placed them in front of Athelend. Athelend grunted a small thanks as he began working, the quill moving in long strokes, and short flicks casting a fleeting shadow in the candlelight. Even as Diana turned in to rest, the quill had not even slowed, nor the figure hunched over the desk moved as a quiet muttering emanated from him. Diana fell asleep to the scratching of a quill. Not even as the Corpse faded from the sky did he stop and as the sun rose the sound of quill drowned out any cries of a rooster. Diana woke to the small room of the inn covered in the parchment both discarded and pinned to walls, she was careful not to even touch any of it as she nimbly navigated towards Athelend.
“How are you?”
“Well, the designs are almost complete,” said Athelend in a dry raspy voice.
“I was talking about you; you shouldn’t be staying awake all night like this.”
“I’m fine, I even ate” replied Athelend, gesturing to a pile of breadcrumbs and a mostly empty carafe of water. Diana shook her head. “Can you even get up from that chair?” she asked after a moment.
“Of course, I c-” Athelend was standing up from the chair when he stumbled, his legs numb from sitting for hours on end.
“Told you so,” said Diana as she helped him up.
“Alright, Alright you win. Come, let's get breakfast.”
“Yes, just give me a few moments.”
As the two left to fill their bellies a breeze blew in from the window. As it reached the desk, it rolled across the surface scattering a few parchment papers. The breeze then hit the jewelry box, closing the lid on the box. A soft click could be heard as the lock closed.
The tent was bustling with activity with aides running this way and that with maps and lists in their arms. A group of soldiers, high ranking, based on the amount of blade tips in their left pauldron, stood around a table with a map sprawled over it discussing future movements.
The tent flapped flipped open and in strode a gray-haired older man, his pauldron dotted with so many blade tips that there were a few in his right pauldron as well. A smaller, mud-covered soldier followed quietly behind his commander. The tent grew silent immediately as the General walked in, and with a gesture, all the aides left without a word. The General Himmuradii stood at the head of the map table with the soldier that followed him standing back from the opposite end. Himmuradii looked over the commanders standing at the table remembering his service with each and how they earned his trust. Of all the figures, there was only one that Himmuradii had never fought alongside, a snobbish man named Teviir who was sent by the king to watch over Himmuradii as he once again fought Windmar’s army. The king sending a supervisor was unusual, even more so for Himmuradii, the King’s most successful General. He couldn’t help but feel distrust towards the man with his general lack of both battle experience and knowledge of war. But Himmuradii was unable to object to this man’s presence, as it was an order from the king.
“Alright,” said the General first under his breath, then he continued normally “Let us begin. First, as you all know we are just outside the canyons that lead to Windmar, the only path into the kingdom. Second, as I'm sure you’ve heard, Windmar's King finally built a fortress at the entrance to the canyon. We mean to crush this fortress, then occupy it, guaranteeing a safe route out of the kingdom with our spoils.” As he spoke Himmuradii’s eyes kept flicking towards Teviir’s face, looking for any kind of hint as to what he might be thinking.
“I have sent out scouts to find the fortress and look for any weakness in the structure. This man here is the Head of the scout's squadron, Captain Mohiid”
“Thank you, sir,” said the captain, not shrinking at all in the face of so many superior men, “My scouts and I happened upon the fortress two nights ago and have maintained undetected observation since. We have confirmed that the fortress only has one entrance accessible from our side, the main gate. We cannot confirm if there is a tunnel network within the fortress but given its size, it seems likely.” As the soldier spoke every man around the table listened intently, listening for the words that they feared the most.
“There is one set of ramparts low enough for our ladders, but siege towers would be better, which we did not bring with us.” That was a fact that all the commanders knew, they were here to raid, not conquer.
“We have confirmed that there are no specialized defenses present on the outside of the fortress,” The captain glanced at the outsider in the tent, then at his general, then explained. “That means no boiling oil, ballistae, magical traps, or anything of the like.” As Mohiid spoke, confusion was slowly rising among the greater minds around the table.
“As for how many men are within, I have tasked my scouts to remain and observe, then report back to me when they have their findings.” As if on cue, a young soldier burst into the tent, breathless. While the young soldier was catching his breath Mohiid walked over to him. The soldier upon realizing that his superiors were staring at him, immediately straightened up and saluted. With a gesture from his captain Mohiid, the soldier leaned in and whispered something in Mohiid’s ear. The Captain then sent the soldier out of the tent and returned to his spot at the map table.
“That was the report from my scouts, they said….” Mohiid hesitated, “They said that there are no more than a few dozen men inside” Murmurs of disbelief spread around the room. Only one man stood steadfast.
“You may go, Captain,” said General Himmuradii. Mohiid promptly turned on his heels and left the tent. With the captain gone, the commanders raised their voices from whispers.
“What is this? It’s like they want us to come conquer it.”
“Didn’t Windmar hire a legendary engineer to build this fortress? What was his name?”
“Athelend Norah of Yourjin.'' The General’s voice quickly silenced his retinue. Himmuradii knew the name well, it was through his spies that they first learned of Windmar’s plans. They had also reported back that Athelend was at first unwilling to build the fortress.
With all eyes on him, Himmuradii made his decision.
“We will not attack, we will march past this fortress” Uproar and arguments filled the tent, and the general silenced them with a wave.
“This is too easy; it can’t possibly be anything other than a trap.” Himmuradii justified his decision.
“You heard your scouts, there are no traps,” Said one commander.
“On the outside” another commander corrected him.
“What traps on the interior could be a threat to our entire Hikzul?” said a third.
As the arguments were about to escalate, Himmuradii reiterated his stance, “I have made my decision and that is final” The arguments died down as the commanders obeyed their general.
“Why?” This one word startled the men in the tent, who would speak their piece now? When the decision has been made? It was Teviir, the supervisor. “Why are we simply letting them be?” Teviir continued using the silence of shock to his advantage. “They are just there, they are undefended, they are an easy win. Why would you pass that up? Are you scared? Are you a coward?”
The word ‘coward’ froze the air in the tent. The Taherni commanders shivered, their homeland never reached temperatures this cold. All the commanders closely watched the general, trying to see his next move in the minute movements of his stance and arms. Some were even expecting to see the supervisor’s blood decorate the tent in a few seconds. But, nothing happened, Himmuradii maintained his composure. Without even sparing a glance at Teviir, Himmuradii spoke.
“......Let the men know, we attack after the sun’s zenith.”
Himmuradii sat at a table at the head of the main hall after the attack with his circle seated to either side of him. He watched the great door opposite of him as his soldiers slowly poured in and seated themselves at the tables moved from the fortress’ mess hall. Himmuradii would not speak until every soldier was present, which included the guards posted outside. The general knew how many soldiers would occupy the great hall, not a single one had been lost in the attack. As both a reward and a promise of the victory to come, Himmuradii wanted to grant a feast to his Hikzul.
Finally, the last of the soldiers, the scouts who had been patrolling the area around the fortress, entered. A soft click was heard by Mohiid, the last man to enter the hall, but he dismissed it. As everyone took their seats Himmuradii rose with a flagon in his hand and began his speech.
Himmuradii’s voice echoed across the hall, drowning out the noise of merry from every man present. Every man watched their general, some not even risking a blink. Himmuradii watched the eyes of his men looking at the respect and love reflected in their eyes. None in the hall noticed the great dark stone slab slowly lower into place in front of the hall’s main doors. A great rumbling sounded unheard over the booming voice of the general. At last, Mohiid, standing at the back of the audience, heard the rumbling, and turned to find its source. It was too late however, the slab just slipped into place with a dull thud. Mohiid slammed his fist on the stone, panic building within him. He whirled around and quickly glanced around the hall.
“Hey! You three, Help me!” Mohiid shouted to the men nearest him. All four men jumped up and ran to the captain, and together they worked on lifting the slab, soon a few more men joined in to help. The commotion spread throughout the hall, finally reaching Himmuradii himself.
“What’s going on? Tell me!” Himmuradii shouted above the growing clamor.
One of the men banging on the door turned and shouted back to him, “T-The door is blocked! W-we can’t get out!”
Himmuradii's eyes went wide for a moment before he regained his composure and began shouting commands.
“You men!” The general shouted to the soldiers nearest him, “Go around the fortress and look for a way to open this door, if you can’t find one, then look for a way out. GO!”
The group of soldiers scrambled for torches and then went out the passages on either end of the room that led to the rest of the fortress.
“Grab your weapons! Pry it open!”
A number of men clumsily reached around for their spears and swords and began jamming them underneath the stone slab.
A few of the men sent to scour the fortress returned.
“The battlements are gone!”
“What do you mean, gone?”
“They’re gone! They disappeared into the walls! It's now a sheer cliff out there!”
“Can you climb down?”
“With what? Our ladders are outside!”
“Where are the rest of you?”
“They tried jumping from the walls, to see if they could make it…. They didn’t survive.”
Himmuradii turned away from the man.
“So, this was their trap, and we are right in it's maw.” Himmuradii stroked his graying beard for a moment and then froze. He turned towards Teviir who was breathing so heavily that one might think he was one of the men who scoured the fortress.
“You,” Himmuradii muttered as he approached the man. Teviir barely had time to focus on the figure in front of him before the steel appeared in the General’s hand. The General swung and the curved blade of the sword seemed to scream as it moved, first cutting air, then finding flesh. Himmuradii could feel the reverberations in his sword as it cleaved. He felt the skin give way, the tendons snap, the muscles shudder, the airway collapse and sever, and the bones shift as the cutlass found its path between the vertebrae and out the other side of the supervisor’s neck.
And then the World began screaming.
It wasn’t until Teviir’s head had stopped rolling that Himmuradii realized that the screaming was coming from behind him, towards the door. He quickly whipped around to see what was happening.
His heart froze with what he saw. Broken spears and shattered swords littered the floor in front of the stone slab, destroyed when the men tried to use them as pry bars. Some of the men had already given up and were just standing still, a vacant look in their eyes. The remainder of the men, however, worked as though possessed, clawing and grabbing at the seam of the stone searching for any purchase. Fingernails splintered and ripped off of their hands, fingers broken and bending at grotesque angles, yet still clawing away. Blood began to decorate the stone as the men sheared off their fingertips in their labor. At least one soldier had lost up to the second knuckle on each finger. Some men were hammering at the stone with their bare hands, the flesh thudding with almost rhythmic frequency, and at this point reduced to bloody nubs. At least one man was using his head, hammering it on the wall with such force it was a miracle he was still conscious. And among them all was Mohiid, desperately trying to stop them from destroying themselves.
Himmuradii slowly approached the men, as if in a trance. One of the defeated men reacted to his approach, the soldier snatched up his bow and a single arrow, and quickly sent it flying at his general accompanied by a blood-curdling screech.
Himmuradii threw up his left arm reflexively and shut his eyes. A sudden thwack and a tugging in his arm spurred his eyes open again to see an arrowhead just inches from his face. He’d almost compliment the shooter for his accuracy if the man hadn’t just tried to kill him. Pain blossoming from his arm brought Himmuradii’s focus back to the arrow. The arrowhead was clean, not a speck of blood in it, and a small flap of skin above the exit was being dragged along by the arrow’s shaft, still embedded in his arm. Himmuradii glared at the man and then broke off the arrow’s head. He reached around to the other side of his arm and yanked the shaft out of it. The arrow slipped out quickly but not painlessly. The pain stopped his breathing for a moment, and Himmuradii found it difficult to think for a few seconds.
As he blinked back his focus, Himmuradii saw out of the corner of his eye, a few of the men tackling the archer who shot him. They wrestled away the bow and held the man’s arms behind him. A third man stood in front of the archer and unsheathed his sword then brought it high above himself. The general shouted at the men to stop but they did not even flinch. When the blade fell Himmuradii was still shouting, tearing his vocal cords with the strain but to no avail. The sword sliced through the man’s chest, from his left shoulder down to his right side above the waist, spraying crimson all over the swordsman’s right arm and shoulder. The skin curled away from the wound revealing a myriad of dark red shapes and white flecks from within the victim’s chest. A faint pulsing was seen among the shapes that matched the surges of blood as the heart grew weaker and the lungs sputtered and deflated as the man let out the last grunts of his fading life.
Himmuradii stomped towards the man and grabbed his shoulder, spinning the swordsman around to face him. Blood dripped down the side of the man’s face, revealing empty, soulless eyes that held no trace of the man he was but an hour before. Himmuradii was speechless, the man seemed to look through his general as if he was invisible. The swordsman slowly turned away and wandered off towards another group of men in another scuffle.
Himmuradii looked around the hall witnessing the massacre of his men. Everywhere he looked he would see men killing each other with the brutality of red ghouls, as if the bloodshed was necessary for their own survival. Himmuradii tried to get the words out to command his men to stop, but either due to his torn vocal cords or the shock, not a word escaped his lips. He slumped to the ground, horrified at his inability to stop the madness around him. Amid the screams, grunts, and splashes of blood, was a cacophony of laughter, whether real or imagined, Himmuradii could no longer tell. Himmuradii picked himself up off the ground and began lumbering towards the stone door. Mohiid was nowhere to be found, and Himmuradii hoped his captain got a quick death.
As he was about to reach the blood-covered stone, Himmuradii remembered his commanders, not seen among the chaos, and turned his back to the slab to look for them among the soldiers. He did not look for very long, as one of them was just before him.
“Ah, quickly help me-” Himmuradii’s words were cut short by a sword piercing through his stomach, steel biting into the stone behind Himmuradii. He could feel the blade as it pushed through his intestines, slicing them as it traveled through him. After the sword came to a stop, he felt the pain erupt from his stomach and back stifling his breathing. A second of his commanders approached his sword in hand and drove it through the General’s right shoulder. A third, through his left thigh. One by one the commanders approached the man they had the utmost respect for, and each stabbed him with their blades and left them inside him.
As Himmuradii slowly collapsed against the stone slab, he noticed that the screaming had stopped, and his mind felt clear and the pain felt a world away. None of the men who enacted his death had remained near him, moving on to find other victims in the hall. Himmuradii was about to close his eyes when Mohiid appeared by his side, desperately trying to control the blood spewing forth from the countless wounds in his body. Himmuradii wanted to give one last order to the last man under his command, but his mouth, his body would not move, it felt as though made of lead, as the life drained onto the cold stone floor. Himmuradii’s eyes were closed by Mohiid and he embraced oblivion, but… it did not come. Even as his heart stopped and his breaths froze, Himmuradii never faded, his mind present even in death. Panic rose from him as he realized he could not muster a single movement to prove his life’s presence. The blackness enveloping him for the rest of eternity brought but one thought, So, this is death.
As his General’s corpse began to grow cold, Mohiid pulled the swords from the body and laid them around his general. After saying a few words in prayer to Reus, God of Victory, Mohiid grabbed the sword of the first of the General’s killers and turned to face the madness that infested the hall around him.
Some three months later, the large stone that shut the army in the fortress lifted, and not a single man walked out.