Ddal/#1257173 - Zerochan | Fantasy house, Fantasy cabin, Fantasy village [https://i.pinimg.com/1200x/32/2a/11/322a1159b90ad3a6865df8df9d56fe0e.jpg]
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Nodding his head to show he understood, Walter stayed close to the sergeant, when he paused again. Posted up the nearby billboard were dozens of notices, but of more interest to him was the one at the center with a bounty of one thousand guillards which was coin enough to leave this village behind and start an entirely new life.
“For those who are brave enough to venture into the Forest of Blackwing, bring me the head of Sir Robar and his band of notorious thieves. Last seen near Crawford Farm to the north-east of the castle, he is said to be heavily armed and armored and should only be attempted by those of a hearty constitution. Glory to the hunt, and to the brave soldiers of his majesty!”
Signed Lord Huxelberry.
But despite the fact there were dozens of sellswords surrounding the noticeboard, Walter couldn’t help but observe that not a single mercenary glanced in the bounty’s direction. And while Walter was not a superstitious man, he could only assume that it meant that the task was extremely dangerous. Which made the next step of his plan all the more important. He was going to steal the equipment handed out to every guard and head off into the forest, that way he would at least be half prepared for a fight.
Hurrying to catch up to Durgan just as he was about to reach a tall squat building, the big man turned again to face him, his expression dark. “This here is the barracks and where you will spend most of your time. Get yourself kitted out, and meet me by the gates. It's time to see if you are worth anything.”
Apprehensive now that the time to act was coming, Walter hesitantly took a step inside, and found a scarcely decorated room filled with wooden sleeping pallets. He could also see chests in front of each bed, and on the wall opposite him was the emblazoned flag of Tarvos two golden keys crossed on a field of white.
Seeing half a dozen recruits resting inside, Walter wondered where his equipment was? When a young man came over to him. Covered in freckles with a brilliant shade of orange hair, the boy grinned up at him. “You’re new here too aren’t you?! I’m Fredrick, and I just joined from Oler’s Farm.” He then waved an arm and pointed to a nearby bed. “You should probably dress yourself quickly, the sergeant doesn’t like to wait and you still have the gauntlet to go through.” The young man hovering over Walter as he showed him a bed with a uniform placed atop it, a rifle, and shortsword.
Eager to try his gear on, Walter quickly hurried in that direction as he asked, “What’s the gauntlet?”
Grinning from ear to ear as Fredrick laughed, he replied, “just a test to see what you’ll be good at. Sergeant says I scored high enough to become a marksman, but I thought it would be better to work as a stablehand. Besides there are more adventures to have in a castle than out there,” he said with a knowing smile as he tapped his nose.
Conscious of a few eyes watching him, Walter stripped down, and hastily slipped on the black trousers. Quite comfortable despite its tight fit, he put on the coat next over his shirt, which was marked with keys of Tarvos on the breast, a belt across the chest that held dozens of vials, and epaulets on the shoulder.
Strapping on the belt buckle and sheathing the shortsword at his waist, Walter couldn’t help feeling like this was what he was meant for. The final two pieces of his uniform, an ammunition pouch and a bolt action rifle which felt smooth to the touch.
Shouldering the weapon easily, he then turned to face Fredrick with a smile of his own, and saw the young man’s face light up. “You look just like the recruitment posters back in the city! A real soldier!--”
When another voice cut in, “--don’t you mean a real dirteater. The boy thinks he’s something now that he’s wearing a uniform.” Turning at the sound of voice, Walter came face to face with a boy much older than him. With closely cropped brown hair, a chiseled jawline, and an easy manner that suggested years of practice with a blade, he moved with the grace of a dancer, his green eyes sparking with danger as he spat, “everyone knows that it's not the uniform that makes a soldier but what's in their blood, and I’d say you had a bit of pig blood in you, boy.”
His face flushed red, Walter clenched his fists at his sides, when Fredrick whispered in his ear. “Don’t, Ansalad is the highest ranked cadet and nephew to Lord Huxelberry. He just likes to pick on us first years, but he will grow tired of it eventually.”
But despite the warning, Walter asked, “And what does that make you?”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
His razor thin lips, cracked into a sneer, Ansalad replied, “why the blood of warriors, kings, and nobility. Not like the common trash Durgan picks up these days. But I suppose uncle needs his battle fodder.”
Unable to hide his anger, Walter took a step towards him, fist ready to swing, when Durgan’s voice boomed at him from behind. “What are you waiting for, boy! You’re meant to be at the gates by now!”
Given a withering look as he left the barracks behind, Walter re-joined Durgan in the main courtyard. The big sergeant glaring down at him. “Make me wait again and we’ll see if you like a good hiding. Now hop two, and keep up with me.” Taking off a brisk clip Walter tried hard to keep up with the big sergeant, but for every two steps, the big man took one.
Still managing to half jog and run, they exited the portcullis, the sergeant taking a right turn and following a dirt trail to the left of the castle. Continuing to move at a brisk pace, Durgan began to speak over his shoulder, “It seems your initiation will have to wait, recruit, words come in that there might be trouble up by one of the farms. If so, it is our job to investigate, ensure the threat has been eliminated, or send for reinforcements.”
Stunned at the speed of events, Walter lagged a little behind as they began to pass by farms, meadows, and eventually down slope as they headed to a river. Durgan, all the while kept speaking in a brusk voice, “Here is what we know so far, scouts have reported seeing strange creatures in the area as well as a possible mage sighting, and while it could just be nothing, it's our job to ensure the safety and security of these lands. However with you being a raw recruit there are a few things you should know before we arrive. That uniform you wear should blunt most magical attacks, but it will still hurt like hell if you get hit. Two, I brought you out here in case I needed a second set of eyes on the situation and if there is indeed trouble, I need you to go back and warn Lord Huxelberry. Three, if you follow my orders you should be fine. Now keep up!”
Too shocked that he was being thrown straight into combat, Walter stumbled after the big man, and couldn’t help but question why the sergeant wouldn’t bring an experienced soldier along. He also didn’t understand why Durgan was going out on his own to investigate. It didn’t make any sense to him, but as Walter thought about slipping away, he noticed smoke on the horizon. Thick and black, he could see that it was coming from across the river, and on the other side of the hill.
Waving at him to follow, Durgan raced towards the ford, and splashed into the water. All the while Walter kept thinking, just stop, and go back. But tasting the acrid stench of smoke in the air, worried Walter. What if there really was trouble and Durgan needed his help. He’d be abandoning him to fight alone.
Feet squelching in through the mud as they reached the opposite bank, they began the steep climb upward on rocky terrain, when Durgan crouched down, and held a finger to his mouth. “Quiet now.”
Making their way slowly up, Walter could feel his heart pounding in his chest, when they finally crested the hill and looked down.
Half gaping at the undead creatures that clawed at the door to a burning farmhouse, Walter felt his blood run cold, and a chill run up his spine. The unnatural monsters that tore at the building seemed to be made up of bits of desiccated flesh that hung off dead animals they were somehow still alive. Hearing a scream from inside the farmhouse as the flames shot up higher, Durgan grabbed him by the shoulder, his expression tight. “Looks like I’m going to need your help here, soldier. I can’t take on this many on alone, and whoever is inside needs our help. The question is are you up to you?”
Unslinging his rifle, Walter slowly nodded his head, a queasy feeling entering his belly as he couldn’t help but think this was all a nightmare. He shouldn’t be here, he should be searching for his friend. Not doing this. But even so as Durgan readied his rifle Walter knew he couldn't just run away.
“Now listen to me, lad, undead filth like these are slow, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't take the threat seriously. First slide back the bolt here, slot in a bullet into the opening, and slide the bolt back. Now I want you to aim your weapon at your target, take a deep breath, and fire as you exhale.”
Taking a breath, Walter aimed his rifle at one of the undead animals clustered by the doorway, and as he released a breath, he pulled the trigger. Bucking a little in his hands, he watched in amazement as one of the creatures flew back, a second explosion of sound sending another careening into the dust. The noise however must have attracted their attention as they began to swarm in his direction.
Taking Durgan’s lead and quickly re-loading his weapon, Walter fired again, missing this time, and could feel himself begin to panic a little as he saw the melted faces, hollowed out eye sockets, and bared teeth of these creatures. Durgan, however firing rhythmically, plucked one target back after the another as he spoke, “Steady yourself, recruit, take a deep breath, and keep firing. Pretend you're out in the woods hunting rabbits.”
And whether it was the reassuring tone of his voice or his words, Walter felt himself calm down, and started firing again. Still missing for the most part, he just kept telling himself to keep reloading and shooting. And to his surprise as the pack of undead dwindled to just a few they began to flee with Durgan advancing after them.
Breathing a huge sigh of relief, Walter trailed after him, when a woman burst out of the farmhouse hollering, “I’ll kill you! I kill you all! You filthy murdering bastards!” The disheveled woman, dressed only in a torn nightgown, firing a pistol as she screamed incoherently before she turned her weapon on him. “Who are you?! Are you with him?! By the gods answer me now!”
Palms covered in sweat as he froze, Durgan held up a hand, and slung his rifle on his back. “We are riflemen in the service of Lord Huxelberry. He sent us here to investigate the disturbance in the area. Now if you will please lower your weapon, we can talk about this calmly, and you can tell us what has happened here.”
“What happened?! Can’t you see what happened?!” Screamed the woman, “look around you they burned down my farm and killed my poor Liam!” Sobbing as she lowered her pistol, she continued her head slunk low, “ I told him, I told him we couldn’t rely on the guards, but he didn’t want to pay their bloody tribute, and now he is dead. Killed by that bastard Robar before he sicked his sorcerer on us.”