Little Seamus laid in the green grass of the training field, his gaze on the clouds going by. His wooden sword lay next to him, weathered by time and use.
“Seamus!”
Someone called out, catching his attention. His trainer, Roger, was walking towards him, a disappointed look on his face as he approached the young child. Seamus sighed and stood up to meet his trainer.
“Sir Roger, I already did the slashes and stabs, I swear!” He lied.
Roger sighed, scratching his head as he looked down at Seamus.
“I know, but your father has called for you and wants to know how your practice is going…” The trainer revealed the real reason he was there.
“Do I have to?” Seamus sighed, not wanting another confrontation with his father.
Father had been training Seamus since he could walk, wanting him to be the strongest warrior out there and the next heir to the clan. Despite nearly everyone in the clan supporting this and telling the boy he was lucky, Seamus didn’t want to be like his father. In fact, he admired his mother more, who was a calm lady who focused more on academics and stories of the past. That had always fascinated Seamus, even if his father disapproved of his son learning such things over fighting. The young child had been training so long that he could perform an evisceration maneuver in his sleep.
“You don’t have to go, but he is your father, Seamus,” Roger pointed out. “Are you really going to disobey him?”
Seamus ignored the question, his thoughts going to the man who ruled the Bear Clan. He wondered if he wanted to see his father, as the man had never really talked about anything other than fighting and tactics.
“Seamus?”
Still, Seamus knew his father only wanted the best out of him, even if the child didn’t like it.
“Seamus?”
But the boy was not a fighter, as he always did his best to avoid genuine conflict.
“Seamus!” Roger’s voice was different now, almost frantic. It was like-
“Seamus!”
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“Seamus!!”
Kate's voice brought the young man back, his eyes fluttering open to see the young shop owner. She had specks of blood on her face, as well as on her clothes. Seamus quickly sat up, panicked, before she calmed him down, shushing him.
“I’m not hurt… This isn’t my blood,” Kate explained. Seamus looked down at himself, realizing he was also covered in the crimson substance. Seamus felt sick, unsure if it was his own. He looked around, realizing that they were outside of the shop. He could see flames flickering on some of the nearby buildings, dark plumes of smoke rising into the sky.
“What… What happened?” He asked.
Kate blinked in confusion.
“You don’t remember?” She questioned.
Seamus shook his head. “All I remember is that I confronted the marauders… and everything went blurry… I passed out.” He looked towards her. “What happened? Did we escape? How did you get me out?”
Kate looked even more confused, her brow furrowing in worry.
“Seamus… You killed them all.”
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Havor looked straight at the young man before him. The nobody who had died to Deimos had a name now. Havor had heard it from the shaman herself. James, the man thought to be dead, was now alive, even if only barely.
Havor’s gaze moved to the surrounding destruction. He spotted Yemin and Borov dead, along with what looked to be a town’s guardsman. Havor focused on the dead thing near them. It was unrecognizable, its body burnt to all hel and a red-hot sword in its mouth. It emitted a horrible stench, forcing Havor to scrunch up his nose.
The marauder had been lost throughout the fog, only finding the fight after some time. Unfortunately, it appeared he was too late. He had been watching the encounter since the woman had yelled at James to finish it.
The bald marauder took a step forward, his short sword in hand, as he glanced at the shaman woman. She was standing now, dagger in hand, as she wobbled. Havor didn’t worry about her. He turned back to James, who attempted to stand, a look of effort and pain on his face as he tried.
Havor stopped, looking down at the short sword he carried. Without a word, he tossed the blade to the young man.
James stared down at the weapon, silent for a moment. He looked up at the marauder, his jaw visibly clenching.
“I’m not gonna fight you,” he muttered adamantly.
“You will. Otherwise, I’m going to kill you and burn this town down myself.” Havor said before he unsheathed his own sword. He knew that the young man truly had no choice other than to die a coward. James scowled at his words but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned over to pick up the short sword, his body shaking as he entered his stance.
‘Come on. Put up a damn fight. Give me a reason.’
Havor didn’t want to do this. If it were up to him, he’d simply spare the fool and hunt for Seamus himself. Alas, things weren’t so simple. Regardless of his good intentions, Deimos would kill Havor and burn this island down. There was no other choice than to follow orders. The only thing Havor could do was hope that James would give him a good enough reason to kill him—to give him a warrior’s death.
“Come on! Let’s do this!” Havor shouted. He tapped his shield with his blade, instigating the fight.
Surprisingly, the shaman was the first one to rush at him. Havor easily blocked her dagger attack, using his shield to bash her away. His counter was enough to make her stumble and fall onto the ground. James came up right after, his arms swinging his sword primitively. Havor also blocked this attack, his shield reflecting the sword's strike with ease. He then shoved James back and quickly slashed at his side, cutting through the young man’s clothes and giving him a light wound.
Havor slashed at the young man’s leg right after, opening a bleeding gash on his thigh. James yelled in pain, stumbling back in response to the wound. He tried to attack again, going for a stab at Havor. Havor simply used his shield, the blade sticking into its wood. The marauder grimaced and moved to pull his shield away. It nearly slipped out of his grasp, but the marauder kept a good grip on it.
“This is the best you can do?” Havor smacked James with the shield and threw him back to the ground. He kicked James in his gut right after, rolling him over onto his back. “No fight, no determination. Just a naïve idiot who doesn’t know better.”
“You don’t have to do this,” James panted. He locked eyes with Havor. "There has to be another way.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Havor muttered. He raised his sword, ready to strike down on the young man. “This was never going to end any other way. Not with Deimos. Your town was doomed the minute he laid eyes on it.”
However, before Havor could bring his blade down, someone jumped on his back, catching him off guard. He struggled to get them off before he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder.
“Agh! Shit!” Havor finally shook off what seemed to be the woman from earlier, her grip not lasting long on his armor. She fell to the ground, but not before leaving a few nasty gashes on his shoulder.
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Havor didn’t have time to recover when he felt his shield being forcefully yanked away. He was unable to react in time to grab it back, leaving himself defenseless. Havor turned to see that it was now in the hands of a standing James, who held it like a weapon. The marauder didn’t react before James bashed the edge of the shield into his jaw, knocking him back as blood and pain filled his mouth.
“Give up! I don’t want to kill you!” James managed out in strained breaths.
Havor didn’t listen. He was too angry, full of rage, as he spat out his bloodied teeth. He flew at the young man, who used his new shield to block the marauder’s advance. James dodged another sword strike, slipping past Havor and bashing at him from behind.
Havor gritted his teeth before he struck out again, trying to land a hit on the man. James blocked his attack again, the blade sticking onto the shield. Both men struggled with the conjoined weapons, James yelling as he tried to push Havor back. The marauder was still stronger, overpowering James enough to push him back to the ground. With the younger man went the shield and sword, leaving the marauder without either.
Havor didn’t care. He pulled his dagger out and kicked the shield and sword away. Both items made a clattering sound as they slid away, out of reach of both men. James still tried to fight back, his fist swinging at Havor. The marauder backed away and slashed at his arm, causing the man to yell out in pain. Havor slashed him once more before kicking James in the chest, knocking him down.
“You should’ve killed me when you had a chance,” Havor called out as he approached the fallen man. James was trying to crawl away, but Havor was already catching up to him. “I should’ve made sure you were dead when Deimos killed you… I should’ve finished you! I should’ve–”
A woman’s shout came out of nowhere, interrupting Havor’s words and catching his attention. He looked up to see the shaman woman some meters away, unsure of what she had said. Her amber eyes stared him down, hesitant, as she aimed her raised hand at him.
Havor’s eyes widened as he looked down at his chest, where red ethereal symbols materialized onto his armor. Before he could say anything, the symbols dissipated into red flames, engulfing him in seconds.
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James watched in horror as the marauder screamed agonizingly, the flames cooking his flesh and burning his body. The young man wanted to run, to get away from the sight, but his body was too weak, too injured, to move normally. The marauder soon fell to his knees, his screaming slowly weakening as his whole body went down.
Then silence.
There was only the sound of sizzling flesh, with the occasional wet pop coming from the body. James wanted to hurl, but even that was too much for his weak body to do. He heard Dahlia collapse behind him, her weak groaning snapping him away from the horrible sight. She was lying on the ground, her nose bleeding as she wheezed.
The shaman had reached her limit on magical castings. It only made sense after all the spells she had cast throughout the day.
“Dahlia?” James managed out. He turned onto his stomach and crawled over to her slowly.
“James? Don’t come closer… I think I’m gonna throw up.” Dahlia groaned.
James stopped his slow crawl.
“Yeah… I think I’m in that same boat,” he commented.
The shaman looked confused. “You really need to explain these phrases and references you keep using… It’s really confusing.”
James wanted to laugh, but he coughed instead. He smiled as he turned onto his back, his body finally at rest. He felt a cold drop of water hit his face, a distant sound of thunder echoing throughout the sky. Rain slowly hit the surrounding ground, some hitting his body as an icy breeze swept past. James welcomed the cold, his overheated body finally cooling down.
Soon enough, he heard footsteps approaching nearby. He guessed it was a group of people from the sound of it.
‘Harald and Seamus?’
James slowly turned back onto his stomach to greet his friends.
His heart dropped at the sight of Deimos. Where James had expected Harald with Seamus, instead stood the chieftain and his entourage of marauders.
Deimos was clad in his black plate armor, his bear cloak covering his arms and shoulders. Others who wore similar armor even accompanied him.
The chieftain looked around at the hellish scene, a look of surprise on his face as he walked towards Havor’s corpse. The man completely ignored James, his focus on the burning body of one of his men. He leaned down and grabbed a short sword from nearby, the same one James had used.
“Delphine’s tits… What happened?” Deimos muttered. He seemed to notice James then and there, his eyes widening.
“You,” Deimos said. He sounded more surprised than malicious. “How?” He started. The man looked back at the other bodies before going back to James. “I was sure you died when I pierced your heart.”
“I got better,” James grunted as he spoke. Without missing a beat, the young man flashed the marauder a wry smile.
“Clearly,” Deimos muttered back before he took one more look at Havor. “Eli. How many dead?”
A robed spellcaster stepped out from the crowd in response, his hands carrying a long staff. He had a crimson blindfold and black mage robes tucked under his black-plated armor.
“Roughly eleven dead in the last couple of hours. Nine of them are ours.”
“Any survivors?” Deimos asked.
The man named Eli paused, seemingly in thought, before answering,
“One. She’s held prisoner, though…”
Deimos nodded and rubbed his beard as he walked from his group of marauders. He turned to James, holding the sword he had picked up moments ago.
“I should kill you. Gut you like a fish and hang you by your entrails. That’s what anyone like you deserves.” Deimos walked closer to James. He then did something that surprised the young man. He grinned, his hand stabbing the sword into an exposed patch of dirt.
“But... something about you intrigues me like no one else before.” He knelt next to James, his green eyes staring into James’ blue irises.
“What is your name?”
James resisted the sudden instinct to spit at Deimos’ face.
“Holter. My name is James Holter.” He spoke back with just as much confidence as Deimos. The marauder’s grin grew wider before he stood up. He turned his back to James just as the rain slowly intensified.
“Well, James Holter… I’ll let you live for now. I’ll even leave you the ship my worthless marauders came here on. But remember this.” Deimos turned to look at James for the last time. “We will meet again, whether it be on the battlefield or on a raid. We will meet. I hope by then that you’ll put up a good fight.” Just as Deimos walked off with his marauders, James forced himself to yell out.
“I’ll make sure it’ll be your last fight, Deimos! You can count on it!”
The chieftain of the marauders didn’t turn, but James knew he had heard him.
Rain poured onto the small town, extinguishing the fires around it. It was cold and freezing, but James didn’t care. He welcomed the icy rain, his overheated body relaxing as it cooled off. He heard more footsteps now, and this time, it was who he had expected—sort of. It was Harald and that one drunk from the bar, Haggard. They rushed to James and Dahlia to aid them.
“What the hell happened?” Harald asked, kneeling next to the blond man.
James couldn’t help but chuckle softly, not answering as they looked down at him. There was nothing funny about the situation, yet James continued to chuckle and even giggle. The two men stared at the young man with looks of confusion on their faces.
James soon broke into laughter, his nerve long gone as tears flowed down his face. He cackled hysterically, letting out all the stress that had built up these last few days. It wasn’t more laughing as it was wheezing air from his lungs. Still, James laughed for a long time, up until he finally passed out, exhaustion finally overtaking him.
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Deimos, the Red Death of the North, walked placidly through the rain as his marauders followed behind. They weren’t anything like the low-level bandits he had left with Havor. Almost all of them had plate armor similar to Deimos', their red handprints almost glowing on their chests. As they neared Bloody Mary, Deimos spoke up.
“Leave Frostbite here. And a note,” he clarified, remembering his talk with James. The marauders seemed to hesitate, but none would dare to defy or question his orders. Well, except for one. Eli stepped up, his brown hair wet from the rain. Still, the blindfolded man didn’t seem to care about it.
“Why are we leaving them the ship? Furthermore, why are we sparing them? We could still kill them all and find Seamus. What about the vault?”
Deimos raised his hand to quiet the spellcaster. Eli went silent, but his features remained concerned. Deimos took a moment to think before answering.
“James has potential. There is something strangely alluring about him. I’m certain he is to grow just as strong as Yorn. Perhaps even stronger.” Deimos couldn’t quite place it, but James reminded him of the late Jarl, of the warriors of old. The thought that such a man could defy death and come back to go against stacked odds… and win.
Deimos was excited to see what would become of James in the future if he was given enough time and resources. It would be interesting to see what the strange man was capable of. Given some time, he could even prove to be a beneficial factor in Valenfrost. A tool Deimos himself could shape and temper.
“What about the ship and the vault?” Eli asked. “You know why we can’t give him this ship.”
“Every adventurer deserves a reward after a quest, do they not?” Deimos responded with a grin. “Besides, we have more ships like Frostbite back home. Giving James one like this would prove to be… interesting in the future.” The marauder turned to his ship. “As for the vault. The vault can wait. We already have enough gold and weapons from Yorn’s fort to last us a century.”
“If you wish, sir,” Eli muttered in defeat.
With that, Deimos and his marauders returned to the ship, which would soon depart. By the end of the night, the Marauders of the North had left Yorktown to raid other islands and towns.