The day started early. The legion got their supplies and ship refitting done overnight as they worked and rested in shifts. Morgana had an uneasy rest as they moved about, both feeling wary yet guilty of being unable to help. Plus, he did need to rest – he had emphasized to Ren how a good night’s sleep is always important, and he wasn’t about to back away from his own advice. Archer and Rider were keeping an eye on things, and despite everything, neither of them had anything to report.
Before long, they were setting sail. A reserve force was left at Orbetello to serve as reinforcements and a rear guard as necessary while the first expedition set forth. The flagship was a trade barge that, like the others, had been converted into an impromptu warship, with scorpions and bundles of arrows lining up on the sides of the ship for use. All around them, various other converted ships followed them, their sails filled with the sea wind. And all of them were laden with soldiers, about two hundred total.
Morgana watched from the prow. The sun glimmered off the sea in a fantastic filigree of light as the ship cleaved through the waves. It rocked steadily up and down and, while it took a bit of getting accustomed to, he eventually found his sea legs and was able to keep his balance. To his left, he could see in the distance the ardent landscape of the Italian peninsula as they sailed by, following along the coastline.
Despite the danger of the mission and the scale of the expedition they had to undertake, Morgana couldn’t help but be drawn by it all. This was really like an adventure from the old times! What he wouldn’t give to have the other guys with him, particularly Ren or Lady Ann.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t been on a ship before. His adventures with the other Phantom Thieves didn’t need a boat for the most part. Shido’s Palace didn’t count either – not only was it a cruise liner, but it was also a cognitive background which meant it probably wasn’t realistic. Plus, having it sail through the ruins of Tokyo as a representative of an ark didn’t make for a pleasant time on sea. This was far nicer.
“Does the sea entrance you so, Master?”
The catlike being blinked in surprise as he turned and saw Rider standing there. Instead of her usual blank expression, she bore a hint of a smile. Morgana laughed abashedly. “It’s my first time really seeing it like this,” he admitted, looking back out with a wide smile. “Just seeing the sea stretch beyond forever and ever, watching the shore go by, it just feels like you can go anywhere, wherever you want.”
He turned back to Rider with glimmering eyes. “And the fish!” he exclaimed. “How many fish do you think we can catch here? Albacore? Sea Bream? Maybe even tuna! Do you know how long it has been since I’ve had fatty tuna?! The sea’s great!”
Rider could only blink in surprise underneath her blindfold before chuckling in amusement. For all the carefulness and planning her Master did while on the march, she didn’t expect him to act so… childish. Frankly, it was kind of refreshing, all things considered. “The sea does hold many wonders,” she murmured in agreement, stepping closer to the prow. Though Medusa couldn’t see, she could hear the crashing of the ocean and feel the spray against her skin.
It reminded her of past times. Both good and bad.
“You’ve been on the sea a lot, Rider?” Morgana asked out of curiosity.
She shook her head. “Not especially,” she answered. “But my homes were often located close to the sea. For Greeks, it was one of the key methods of travel, after all, so we became accustomed to it quickly. Many wonders were found across the seas – and many dangers as well.”
The two were silent for a moment, drinking in the landscape, before Morgana’s curiosity got the better of him. “What kind of dangers?” he asked.
Medusa turned to the catlike being, her small smile widening just a bit. “There are two I can immediately think of,” she murmured. “The Charybdis and the Scylla. The former creates a giant whirlpool to drag ships to the deep and feast on their corpses. The latter has nine heads, each one able to grab a man whole. They are right next to each other, so ships have no choice but to navigate between the two.”
Her smile steadily widened at the same time as Morgana’s eyes. “Sailors passing through had no choice,” she continued. “They could either chance the Charybdis and risk the entire ship… or pass by Scylla and inevitably lose nine men. Some chose Charybdis, yet they always failed and fell to the depths. With Scylla, they could pass so long as they paid their toll. Its heads would stretch out and snatch the men from the ships, screaming and flailing, and pull them to its cave to be devoured, one after another as the ship now sailed safely forward-“
“You realize this is a terrible time and place for nautical horror stories, right?” Archer drawled casually nearby, raising an eyebrow. Morgana turned to look and several soldiers who were nearby had been listening in and had turned pale, gazing with wide-eyed horror.
Morgana turned back to Rider with a glare. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he asked accusingly.
Rider smirked. “I merely answered your question, Master,” she replied, a hint of amusement betraying her usual stoic demeanor.
The catlike being could only sigh, shooting a disgruntled glare as the red-mantled hero also chuckled at Morgana’s expense. Still, turning back to the sea, he did feel a bit more relaxed. Now it was just watching the landscape and the sea roll by as they moved to their destination as the officers behind them barked orders to keep them sailing. This may be war, but at least there were moments to relax overall. And despite everything, those were still important. For now, they could only rest and wait.
…
He wondered if there was a fishing rod around here.
-----------
The sun was dipping below the horizon as the island of Sicily came into view. They had sailed almost in a straight line, but had to disembark multiple times to resupply at various ports or forage for more supplies – such was the dire situation the army was in. Thankfully they had accumulated enough that further resupply runs wouldn’t be necessary. Now it was simply a matter of recapturing the islands and making their way westward.
They were some ways out, enough that Morgana standing at the prow of the ship had to strain his eyes to look. He thought he saw a glimmer of torches being lit, but other than a brown line indicating where the erected palisades of the encampment were, he couldn’t see much. “Archer, got anything?” he asked.
The red-mantled hero narrowed his eyes as he observed the encampment. “They have soldiers patrolling the walls as well as watchtowers,” he noted. “And it seems they also built some gates as well. Other than that, I can’t see into the camp from this angle.”
That was about what Morgana expected. He hopped off the prow as legate Evander stepped up. “Dusk will soon be upon us,” he said. “There will be no better time to approach. I will have my men transport you to the cove so you may commence-”
“That will be unnecessary,” Rider murmured, catching everyone by surprise. “I will ship our Master over.”
Morgana blinked. “You know how to steer a ship?” he asked, astonished.
Another faint smirk from Rider. “I believe I shall manage,” she replied.
The legate was surprised by the Rider’s offer but sighed. “Very well,” he grumbled. “We’ll leave the approach to you, auxiliaries. I’ll emphasize once more both the dangerousness of this mission and the need for results. Do not be careless.”
The catlike being scoffed. “Please, I can be reckless, yes, but not careless,” he grumbled. “Archer, stay behind and relay what information I find to the others. Rider, let’s get going.”
“Sounds good, Master,” Archer replied.
“Of course, Master,” Rider acceded.
A fishing boat was brought over for Morgana and Rider to board. With a deft hand, Rider pulled on the ropes and trimmed the sails, allowing them to catch the slightest breeze and set in motion. The boat bobbed thanks to the lighter weight it had with only two occupants aboard, but aside from that, it was relatively stable.
As Medusa adjusted the rudder to maintain their bearing towards the cove, she glanced over at Morgana who once more was at the prow. Both him and Ren were the ones who had denied paradise – and a possible method for her to go back to how things used to be for her and her sisters. Would Morgana give the same answer he did? Did he have a different perspective on it? There would be no better time to ask, after all.
Then she remembered what Archer said and internally sighed. Even if she asked now, what did she hope to accomplish? The chance was gone – no, it never existed for her in the first place - and all the questioning in the world wouldn’t make a difference. She had regrets – many of them – and this was merely one more. She would rather not compound them if she could help it. All she could do now was act as a Servant should: serving as her Masters’ hand and will.
“Everything alright, Rider?”
She blinked and looked up to see Morgana staring at her. “You looked like you were lost in thought,” he pointed out, looking concerned. “Is something the matter?”
Rider hesitated for a second, then shook her head. “It is nothing, Master,” she lied easily. “Merely thinking about what needed to be done.”
Morgana frowned slightly but nodded regardless. She could tell he didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to press the topic. Not right now, anyway. The cove approached closer and closer with the cliffs looming above as sun continued to set, shadows lengthening.
They had a mission to complete.
-----------
For most people, sneaking into a Roman encampment would be a fool’s errand. Sentries and patrols monitored the camp and its surroundings, always vigilant. The tents provided poor cover overall, with a stray shadow or movement giving away a person’s position. Torches fought back against the oncoming darkness, allowing little concealment. Even the best assassins or spies would be hard-pressed to infiltrate such a location.
For a catlike Phantom Thief, however? There was nothing to it.
Once they reached the cove, Rider beached the boat to allow Morgana to disembark. She would remain on standby in case he needed reinforcements. Archer was still watching the encampment carefully for any strange movements he could see. With that, he transformed back into his cat form and approached the camp. With his dark fur, it was easy to flit from shadow to shadow. Combined with his skills and experience, even the most sharp-eyed sentry would be hard-pressed to find him.
Infiltrating the encampment had been a simple method of slipping by the guards around corners and walking in. After that, he weaved through makeshift paths within and hopped on top of tents. His experience keeping an eye on legate Evander’s forces paid off dividends as he easily maneuvered through watchful patrols and sentries. With the organized, standardized structure of Roman encampments, he had the place mentally mapped out in no time.
However, he noticed something odd. It was oddly… quiet. No conversations or arguments among the soldiers. The officers were still barking orders but rather than the usual grumblings, the soldiers seemed to just do as they were ordered. Did they all have orders to stay silent? Considering how close they were to Rome, it wouldn’t surprise him if discipline was ordered to be stricter than usual. But still, something didn’t sit right with him.
“Doesn’t seem like anything’s too weird here, but everyone’s too quiet,” he shared to both Rider and Archer. “I don’t like it. Be ready for anything.” Both Archer and Rider mentally acknowledged the information as Morgana continued making his way through the camp. The command tent should at least have some information he could work with.
He noted the front gate which opened to the beach proper as he passed by. Nothing too special – doors that opened outward with a wooden bar blocking it. It would be a simple matter to use Zorro to cut that open and open it for everyone else. Another bit of information he relayed to Archer, who then relayed it to the legate in turn.
The command tent, as he expected, was the largest one in the middle of the camp. There weren’t any soldiers at the entrance, however, which was odd. Frowning, he considered his approach. It neighbored multiple tents and the entrance was open. He could quietly stalk in from the front but if there was anyone inside, they would be keeping their attention on the entrance.
Deciding to scope it out a bit more, he nimbly jumped up a neighboring tent before leaping to the top of the command tent. His ears twitched as he tried to catch any conversation or arguments within. Again, to his surprise, there was nothing. Did they already finish their meetings and debates, or just broke for dinner? And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling of a presence within. A hunch and instinct from being a Phantom Thief.
Still, there was nothing for it. They might have a plan or directions written down that he could read. Jumping back down the ground, he decided to risk it. Moving to the neighboring tents so no one could easily see him, he used his head to push past the fabric of the tent from the ground to slip in. Inside was surprisingly dark, with the only illumination coming from outside. There wasn’t even anything in the tent – except for one thing.
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A rather ornate chair, sitting in the middle. Sitting in it was a large man, seemingly asleep. He was dressed in more ornate Roman armor, with tanned skin and short-cropped blue hair. There was an aura about him even when asleep that set his fur on edge. He quietly backed out of the tent, careful to make as little sound as possible. He immediately contacted the two.
‘There’s someone in the command tent, asleep,’ Morgana relayed. ‘There weren't any plans or maps or anything, just him. And… I don’t know, something about him creeps me out.’
‘What does he look like?’ Archer asked.
‘Big guy, short blue hair, Roman armor,’ the catlike being listed as he prowled between tents to avoid the patrols. ‘I dunno if he already planned things out or he’s one of the incompetent generals that Nero had been talking about before, but he didn’t have anything on him.’
The sense of alarm from both Archer and Rider immediately set Morgana on edge. ‘What, what is it?´ he hurriedly asked. ‘Do you guys know who he is?’
‘That man may be a Servant,’ Archer reported grimly, freezing Morgana on the spot. ‘Were you able to get away?’
Morgana nodded despite no one being able to see him. ‘Yeah, I got out of there when I saw there was nothing in the tent,’ he responded. ‘But a Servant… the legate and his forces will be slaughtered if we just go about this normally.’
‘They would,’ Rider agreed. ‘Do you have a plan, Master?’
He thought for a second, hopping up to another tent to get a better view of what was going on. ‘We need to take this encampment,’ he muttered. ‘So we can’t avoid this fight. But we can at least minimize the damage. I’m going to get the gate open. Archer, tell the legate to get in position and start sailing in. Let me know when you guys get close enough and I’ll open the gate.’
‘Risky,' Archer noted. ‘The soldiers, including the Servant, will be on you if you do so.’
‘No, they won’t,’ Morgana replied confidently. ‘Rider, I need you to be a distraction. Don’t take out too many – enough so that they’ll think you’re enough of a threat and will chase you down all over the other side of the camp. It’ll be dangerous, but can you handle it?’
‘The danger is irrelevant,’ Rider responded simply. ‘It will be done.’
Morgana frowned at her response but decided against saying something about it. Not the time. ‘Alright. Archer, when you’re halfway to the camp, let us know – that’ll be Rider’s signal. Once you guys have hit the shore, I’ll get the gate open. Everyone ready?’
Both Rider and Archer acknowledged it. Morgana took a deep breath. ‘Then begin,’ he commanded.
They both waited as Archer relayed Morgana’s plan to the legate. Though he couldn’t see what was going on, he knew that the legate wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to secure a clean victory. There was nothing but silence for a while as the legate’s forces began approaching the island. Morgana listened carefully to see if they were detected but so far, nothing. Seems the legate knew how to do a stealthy naval landing too.
“Rider,” Archer signaled.
The only indication was a whisper of wind before Rider landed on the other side of the camp. Her chain spikes rattled in the air as they found their marks in two patrolling soldiers. There were immediate shouts as the others began trying to fight or chase her, to no avail. Often, she stayed in one place just long enough for the soldiers to start catching up, getting even within blade’s reach, before quickly dashing away right out of their reach to their frustration and anger. Before long, she had a good portion of the camp chasing her all over.
Morgana was about to remind Rider to also catch the attention of the potential Servant when her chains shot out once more, tearing apart the command tent. The man stirred and opened his eyes. The catlike being couldn’t see too well from where he stationed himself, but he could’ve sworn the man’s eyes were black. Maybe it was just the poor lighting?
Any further thoughts were blown away as the man roared in rage and charged at Rider. He was far, far faster than any of the other soldiers, cementing his status as a Servant – and more importantly, he quickly caught up to her. She barely dodged the flurry of barehanded punches from the enemy Servant and jumped back, trying to get some distance.
The Phantom Thief’s eyes widened in shock as he immediately mentally reached out to Archer. ‘The Servant has Rider on the ropes! We need backup no-‘ Morgana’s message was interrupted as he heard explosions on the beach. ‘Archer, what the heck is going on over there?!?’ he demanded.
‘It seems the enemy forces have decided to stop playing around,’ Archer groused. ‘There are golems forming on the beach over here. They’ll slaughter the Roman forces if not dealt with. My apologies, Master, but I won’t be able to reinforce Rider right now.’
Morgana clicked his tongue in frustration as he looked back. The pursuing soldiers which normally wouldn’t be a problem for Rider were hemming her in. It would take only a split second for her to deal with or dodge them, but that same split second was also necessary to avoid the next punch from the furious Servant. As much as he wanted to trust Rider to handle herself, it was getting far too close for his comfort.
‘Archer, I’m opening the gate!’ he yelled. ‘I’m trusting you to get the soldiers in here!’ Without waiting for a reply, he transformed into his Metaverse form and stood in front of the gate as his circuits flared to life.
“Zorro!” he cried.
The persona burst into existence with a flash of blue flame once more, its audacious grin unchanged as always. Tracing a pattern with his rapier, a gust of wind sliced the door bar to pieces. Another gust blasted it open. Morgana’s eyes widened at the sight past the gates: large bipedal beings made of earth and stone standing on the beach, hauling boulders and lobbing them at the incoming ships. Faint glimmers of light shone in the air before the rocks exploded, followed by the golems shortly after.
The sound of stomping sandals caught Morgana’s attention. Multiple soldiers had drawn their gladii and were charging him. Zorro blasted them away with more wind, causing them to crash among the tents. He raced among the tents, weaving past the other soldiers as he tried to catch up to Rider and the other Servant (probably a Berserker given his incomprehensible rage).
As he did, he witnessed the Servant landing a punch to Rider’s gut. Morgana’s eyes widened in horror as she was blasted back through several tents and into the palisade, shattering it into splinters. Already, the Servant was about to follow up when Morgana interfered, summoning Zorro once more and sending a gust of wind to slice the Servant. “Hey!” he cried. “Over here, you big lug!”
The Servant froze and slowly turned towards him “Ne...ro…?” he gasped out, his voice guttural and pained.
Morgana blinked then groaned in frustration. “Oh, for crying out loud, I DO NOT SOUND LIKE NERO!” he roared.
“Nero!” he growled as he stomped forward. Now that he was fully facing him, Morgana could see that his eyes were definitely black, coupled with red irises. The sheer intensity of his glare caused him to involuntarily take a step back, almost stumbling off the tent. “Nero Nero Nero Nero NERO!!!!” he roared as he charged.
“Uh – OH CRAP!” Morgana exclaimed before he jumped, barely dodging the Servant who bowled through the tents.
“NERO!!!” the Servant roared once more, frothing at the mouth as he caught himself and charged again, knocking over soldiers, tents, torches, and basically everything in his mad charge. Morgana barely dodged again in time and began making a mad dash to escape, leaping past tents, crates, and other supplies in an effort to slow the madman down – and having about as much effect as stopping a landslide as the man charged past everything with ease. His only advantage was his maneuverability thanks to his small size – an advantage that was rapidly diminishing.
“Zorro!” Morgana desperately called out. The persona flashed into being once more and fired another gust of wind, aiming at the Servant’s leg. The Servant roared and charged headlong – right into the wind, causing him to stumble to his knees with a cut up leg. Panting, Morgana prepared another attack as a boxing glove on a spring appeared in the air above the Servant, when suddenly he roared and charged Morgana, fist raised.
His eyes widened as time slowed. He was fast, but this was way too fast. He couldn’t dodge. He couldn’t block. If he took that head on, he would die. No, he would take it head on. And with that, he would die. Still, he wasn’t about to give up. There had to be something he could do. Anything! The fist got closer and closer as the sound of chains faintly rattled in the air-
A pair of spikes on chains impaled themselves in the Servant’s arm and fiercely yanked it away, barely missing Morgana. The catlike Master looked over to see Rider gritting her teeth, blood oozing from her mouth as she barely held her ground. The maddened Servant roared as he pulled his arm back, nearly yanking her off her feet. With a quick flick, the spikes popped out of his arms and back to her hands.
Quickly regaining her senses, Morgana quickly summoned Zorro again. A trace of the persona’s rapier later and a green glow surrounded Rider, healing her wounds. “Rider, get him away from here!” he shouted. “He’ll slaughter everyone if we don’t!”
At the sound of his voice, the Servant whirled around on Morgana again. “NERO-!” he roared again before being tackled by Rider and dragged away once more with her chains. Before long, the only signs of their battle were the maddened Servant’s roars and the crashes as the two battled. Good – with that Servant occupied, that means the normal Roman soldiers wouldn’t have to deal with him.
He turned towards the gate and saw that the Roman soldiers had breached the opened gate and were fighting the United Roman Empire forces. With how disorganized the enemy soldiers were, they rapidly fell beneath Evander’s forces. Their pilum and gladii flashed out, cutting down them down left and right as they pushed further into the camp, their bodies piling on the ground-
Morgana slowly looked around him. The camp was in flames. Some of the United Roman Empire forces rushed about the camp with buckets of water, trying to put out the numerous fires. Others were trying to rally a desperate defense against the incoming attack, the officers barking orders before getting cut down. The distant crashes and explosions rattled the air as both Rider and Archer dealt with their respective challenges.
Then suddenly, there was an explosion as Rider and the Servant crashed nearby, sending debris flying everywhere. A stray rock struck Morgana in his head – and he knew no more.
---------
A pulsing headache was what greeted Morgana as he blearily opened his eyes. All he saw was the canvas of a tent. Faint sunlight was shining through the fabric. Was it morning or evening? He was lying on something soft, with something wrapped around his head. He gingerly reached up with his paw and felt a bandage. He could hear the waves from the sea nearby, each crash sending fresh waves of pain through his skull. Where… was he? He tried to speak but his throat felt dusty.
“Wait, keep still.”
Morgana blinked in surprise as a soldier appeared in his vision, gently pushing him back down. “Where am…?” he rasped.
“A base camp on the beach,” the soldier explained gently. “You were struck by some debris from those… people fighting. We brought you here to recover.” He stood up and walked to a nearby table, rapidly grinding up some herbs in a mortar and pestle and adding water to it before pouring the mixture into a wooden bowl.
With that, he brought it over to Morgana. “Here, drink this,” he murmured, supporting the catlike being’s head.
He didn’t drink just yet, looking around the tent. “Wh-where are… the others…?” he croaked out. He sent a weak mental link out to check where they are – and found immediate responses.
‘Master, are you alright?’ Rider asked.
‘Barely. Can hardly think. Are you guys…?’
‘We’re fine,’ came Archer’s reply. ‘We left you in the care of the legion’s field medics so we can take care of the second encampment. We were skeptical at first but it seems the army’s opinions of us have changed. You’re in safe hands.’
‘If you say so,’ Morgana groaned. ‘And the enemy Servant…?’
‘He was tossed off a cliff,’ Rider replied. ‘Unfortunately, I was unable to confirm his death. My apologies, Master.’
The Master blinked and sighed. ‘Can’t be helped,’ he dismissed. ‘Are you alright, though? That seemed tough.’
‘Nothing to be concerned about,’ she replied. ‘Now rest. We shall brief you later.’
Morgana nodded even though neither of them were there – and noticed the field medic looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Are you done?” he asked with a note of impatience.
The catlike being sighed and nodded, allowing him to help him take the medicine. It was an odd, bittersweet taste to it. He could only hope it wasn’t poison. After he finished, the medic laid him back down on the bed. “Now rest,” he ordered. “Your injury wasn’t severe, but you need to take it easy.”
He only nodded as the medic left the tent, leaving him staring up at the top of the tent. He wondered how the battle went overall. He wanted to summon Zorro and patch himself up but when he tried, all he got was a spike of pain through his head. He sighed. His eyelids started to close. He wondered how Ren was doing…?
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The cloudless, warm day was blanketed by clouds of soot that flung into the air. Small fires still crackled and blazed, lighting the ashes in small embers. The smell of charred cloth, wood, and flesh hung heavy in the air. Fresh corpses lay alongside charred bodies, spilling their lifeblood to the dirt below. A burnt piece of a palisade cracked and toppled into the ashes, sending it flying upward in an explosive report.
Soldiers patrolled around, grabbing what supplies were burnt or ruined from the fighting the night prior. There wasn’t left that was usable aside from the fringes where the fire hadn’t reached them. It wasn’t a great loss overall, however – their supplies were still surprisingly decent as they didn’t have to use much for the battle. Multiple soldiers were currently fishing off the ships to restock some of their food supplies as more gathered lumber from the nearby forest.
Among it all stood a single, small, solitary figure. The ash covered his fur, staining it grey. Tears streaked from his eyes, clearing a path as they washed away the grime. He could only stare in horror at the desolation that was all about him. Surrounding him were Roman soldiers, cheering his bravery and resourcefulness for an easy victory. However, the cheers rang hollow, his much-coveted praise falling on deaf ears. He could only see the carnage in front of him.
Hearing approaching footsteps, he turned to see Legate Evander. “I must admit, I had my reservations about all of you,” he admitted. “I had expected this mission to have a high casualty rate and our supplies to be stretched thin. At worst, perhaps you would be traitors and our emperor would be mistaken in her judgment.”
His face broke into a wide grin – the first time Morgana saw such an expression. “But you have succeeded with distinction and because of that, many lives and supplies were spared.” He saluted Morgana. “I’m proud and glad to have you all on our side.” With that, he walked off to continue monitoring the soldiers as well as keeping stock of what they had found and gathered, leaving the Master standing there.
And yet, Morgana barely heard him as he stared at everything. The medicine from the field medic worked wonders – his mind had recovered enough to summon Zorro and fully heal him, allowing him to fully take in the aftermath. They had secured victory and had established a beachhead. But what did it cost? What would the future be like? Morgana only had one thought through his mind as he witnessed the ruin in front of him.
‘What… have I…?’
A squawk of dismay immediately caught Morgana’s attention. Whirling about, he saw a soldier had stumbled backwards, crawling away from a corpse with eyes wide in terror. “What-what kind of abomination-!” he stammered.
Needing a distraction and wasting no time, Morgana jogged over to where the soldier was. His cry had attracted the legate, who had been nearby as well. “Is this your first time seeing a corpse, soldier?” the legate asked sternly. “On your feet. We’ll be seeing plenty more before long.”
The soldier fervently shook his head. “I-I’m a veteran of no small number of b-battles, sir,” he argued. “I’ve s-seen my fair sh-share of corpses.” He pointed to the corpse of the United Roman Empire soldier he had been stripping supplies off of. “Th-that is not a c-corpse of a h-human!” he cried.
Morgana narrowed his eyes as he stepped toward the corpse – and reeled backwards with a shout. The soldier looked almost every inch a human, except for some very distinct features:
The soldier was missing eyes completely. Where the eyes were supposed to be, there was just skin. And while there were numerous gashes and wounds, they were all oozing some sort of clear liquid as opposed to blood. With these two facts, the corpse looked distinctly inhuman.
The legate scowled and marched forward. Taking out a knife, he stabbed it into the corpse’s belly and cut horizontally – and more transparent ichor spilled out as the legate jumped back to avoid getting any on his skin. “No organs, no blood,” he growled as he shook his knife, getting the stuff off. “Just this… mess. This isn’t even a Roman – it’s some damned mockery.”
There were more shouts of terror all around them. It seemed that many of the corpses were much the same as this one. The only exceptions were the officers, who were still very much human. But the destruction of the camp had been far too thorough, and dead men did not speak. The catlike being could only look about in dazed horror.
The campaign had just begun.