“Stay quiet. Not a single sound,” Mansly Dell muttered.

The young guardsmen captain did his best to shift the longboat's sails around the guardsmen, his hands pulling at the rope. He gestured to his fellow man, clarifying that he intended to turn the sails to catch more wind. The other guard nodded, his hand grabbing the other rope. Both men pulled and directed the mast, changing the direction of the sails. Soon enough, the black fabric caught the breeze, shifting the longboat and raising its speed.

Mansly sighed a breath of relief, his eyes moving to the rest of the men on board. These were the men who had joined him tonight, the ones who were determined to get rid of the marauder threat. All they had to do was to get to a nearby outpost, hopefully before dawn.

They had left as soon as night fell, pushing off into the sea south of the island. From there, they turned westward, hoping to find a neighboring clan's outpost or settlement. It was a last resort tactic that didn’t require many people. Yet here were Mansly and his battalion of guardsmen. They had volunteered to come with him to give backup in case they were intercepted. It wasn’t the wisest move, but it made little difference to the captain. Even if he left these men on the island, they’d die. At least if they get caught out here, they could fend off and escape into the sea.

Mansly regretted leaving Felix and Thomas back on the island. The two guardsmen were the last of Yorktown’s defense. They had assured the captain they would build up a resistance, but Mansly doubted it. The townsfolk were scared, more scared than they had ever been. Never had the small island faced such a threat, not since the barbarians during the hectic years of the Outsider Wars.

‘Perhaps I should have stayed behind…’

Truth be told, Mansly was a coward. He was afraid of facing the marauders, and it wasn’t just because of what happened two days ago. He had heard about the fall of Yorn Halvorson and the rumors of the man who killed him. While he introduced himself as Deimos, Mansly knew of the man’s reputation in the north.

The Red Death was his more common alias, earned through bloodshed and pillaging. The northern clans, the major ones, feared him for this. Mansly had been from Haven, the city of the north. He had heard of the Red Death as a child. It was nothing more than a rumor and a bedtime story back then. He had always dismissed it, especially since he came to Yorktown years back. Yet, with Deimos watching over the island, that childlike fear was slowly returning to Mansly.

He cursed at himself for being so weak, for being so cowardly. Yet he couldn’t help but shake at the thought of facing Deimos. At least his guardsmen weren’t so easily shaken. The guardsman's captain looked at Michael Rowan, who sat nearby. The former shopkeeper had volunteered the day after Deimos had come to town. He wanted to fight, to help save the island from destruction. Initially, Rowan wanted to stay in the town and fight. Yet, after realizing how little of a chance they stood, he vouched to come along with Mansly to help get reinforcements.

Rowan was determined and ready to fight, a virtue the captain rarely saw in men. Even among the volunteers who came after Rowan, nearly all of them had that look in their eyes—the look of fear and terror. Yet, the former shopkeeper was the only one who didn’t have that look. The captain was probably staring for too long since Rowan seemed to notice him.

“Do you think we’ll get to that outpost before daylight?” the guardsman whispered.

Mansly patted Rowan on the shoulder. “We’ll get to it. Don’t worry about it. This skiff is faster than it looks.” He gave the man a reassuring smile. Rowan returned the smile with one of his own, this one seemingly nervous.

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“Is your daughter safe?” Mansly asked.

“I hope so,” Rowan muttered softly. “I’ve already told her to hide in the woods, where that shaman lives.”

“Do you think she took your advice?” The captain prodded.

Rowan chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “That girl has defied every rule I’ve given to her. Even if the world was burning, I doubt she’d take my word and run to safety.” The guardsman sighed. “Still, I hope she’s as smart as her mother. Gods know that she’s taken more from me. It’d be nice for that stubborn girl to care for herself for once.”

Mansly couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “Let us hope our venture isn’t in vain then.”

“Yes, let’s hope,” Rowan responded with a smile.

The captain shifted in his seat, his gaze moving to look around the skiff. While it was usually impossible to see at night, the sister moons, thankfully, were shining their light onto the sea tonight. Their glow was partial, but it was enough to give Mansly an idea of their surroundings. Like before, nothing was out there, only waves and floating debris. The debris had been there since their departure, possibly from whatever ships the marauders had destroyed on their way to Yorktown.

Mansly was about to settle down in his spot on the boat, but his body stiffened. Something was wrong. The captain looked around, confused. There was a sudden pit in his stomach, a feeling that only worsened as he surveyed the sea. Something was wrong, but what? Mansly turned to his men, who all looked at him with confused and terrified gazes. He blinked in realization. He could see them. Just a minute ago, the captain had trouble differentiating between his right and left hands. Yet now, he could perfectly see the occupants of the longboat.

The captain looked up into the sky, his heart dropping at the sight of a third orb of light, one that accompanied the sister moons. Yet this wasn’t a third moon nor a star. It was a flare spell, one modified to emit a low glow.

“Men! Get–!”

Mansly could barely get the word out before something rammed into the longboat, sending the sound of splitting wood and screaming men. He was thrown back into the black waters, his gear sending him sinking into the sea. Mansly quickly moved to undo his armor, his hands detaching the belt that held his sword and gear. He needed to be fast. Otherwise, he’d sink to the bottom of the ocean.

Once his armor and gear were detached, Mansly swam upwards, the murky water providing zero visual for him. Yet he continued to press on, his right hand carrying his backup dagger.

The captain burst from the waters with a gasp, his gaze set on a horror he didn’t want to witness. Bandits and marauders were shooting arrows and chucking spears into the water, hunting the guardsmen like fish. Mansly quickly swam to whatever was left of the longboat, hoping to grab a proper weapon. Perhaps one of the men left a sword there.

The captain would only make it to the first piece of debris before an arrow struck his back. He exclaimed in pain, his teeth gritting rightly. He tried to push on, but he was struck by another arrow.

“Sir!” a voice called out. Mansly turned to the source, his eyes settling on Rowan. He was on the sinking boat, his hands armed with a bow. “Dive underwater! I’ll cover–!”

He was cut off when a spearhead impacted his face, the sharp tip making a thwacking sound as it pierced through his nose and eye. Mansly watched in silent terror as Rowan’s lifeless body fell into the sea, the sound of splashing water accompanied by the jeers and shouts of savages.

Mansly Dell felt all the hope sap out of his body, his hand dropping the dagger he held. He could only watch as the marauders massacred his fellow guardsmen, their screams drowned out by the laughs and howling. The captain accepted his fate there and did nothing as his body sank into the black waters, doomed to be nothing but another body in the mass grave of the sea.