PART I: The Gallery
Heavy breathing cut through the night air. Footsteps crashed closer behind the small figure stumbling through the darkness, one hand pressed against his right eye as rivers of blood ran down his face.
"DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT! Just who betrayed us? Who told them about us?" He paused, head tilted. "Huh! What was that? Was that someone?" His breathing quickened. "No, that's impossible. I had a whole hour head start—there's no way they could have caught up to me that fast... DAMN IT! Tazan, where are you? And DAMN THIS EYE while I'm at it!"
The small figure stopped behind a tree, carving out his right eye with his own hand and throwing it on the ground without wasting a second.
"Ah, finally the pulsing stopped," he thought to himself as he kept running east toward Duke Flamme's estate—southeast of the empire, northeast of the village of Lif.
As he closed in to leave the forest and mountain range of the south, he spotted a smoke trail big enough to cover the moon. Normally anyone would avoid it; however, with his chasers closing in, his only option was to keep going forward, hoping for support from the noblest figure in the empire—Duke Flamme.
The smell of burnt wood and wool crept in as the figure walked out of the forest. He recognized the Silver Knights of Stella burning Duke Flamme's banners bearing the golden camel of trade. Only sixty of them—far fewer than their usual numbers.
"What are they doing here? How did they reach all the way into the eastern Duke's territory?"
The yelling of the soldiers grew closer. The small figure locked eyes with a man on horseback leading the Silver Knights—his helmet bore wings on the sides with large eye holes revealing white eyes, his beard covering the rest of his face. A long spear stood beside him, taller than himself.
The small figure ran toward him. Before reaching him, two Silver Knights stepped forward, readying their spears but taking no action, waiting for a command.
"Please help me! The imperial soldiers are following me—they've been on my tail for a day or more. They've killed poor villagers, women, children, and elderly. Please, commander of the Silver Knights, if you are the honorable man they say you are, defend those people and help them escape the tyranny of Andras."
The two knights looked at each other, their blue robes hanging behind their backs, then stood tall, laid down their spears, and made way for the man with the winged helmet riding his beautiful white horse.
"You knew who I was, boy... Not many from the empire can recognize me, even with this famed helmet of mine. Not a single soldier has looked for me on the battlefield, and yet a kid running away from no one with one eye knew my identity." The man's voice was old, tired, and weary, yet filled with sarcasm and pride.
"What do you mean running from no one? Do you not hear them?" And as he said that, he turned back and listened for a moment and... nothing. There was no yelling, no footsteps, no birds, no animals—nothing making a sound behind him.
"How long have I been running from nothing?... What was I running from? What were the yelling and footsteps that I heard? Whose were those? No! Have I even truly heard them?"
The commander looked down from his high horse, then patted his horse's head, almost talking to him, telling him to lay down so he could get off.
The commander got off and, with a weird sadness in his eye, asked the small figure, "What is your name, boy?"
The small figure hesitated, not out of fear but collecting his thoughts... "What if I did not run away and helped them instead? Could they have lived? And what if I looked for Tazan—could I have reached them with help?... NO! If Andras and his men knew about the hostages, then they knew about the striking force as well."
A voice shattered his thoughts, loud and clear with determination: "BOY! I asked you a question... what is... your name?"
"Actaeon, my lord."
"That is a beautiful name, young boy. Now tell me, where are those supposed Imperial soldiers?" The old man asked as he took off his helmet, revealing the top side of his face... and a massive scar running across both eyes from side to side. There Actaeon noticed his eyes were white, but not like Tazan's—the commander's eyes were filled with water... useless eyes, people called them.
"Commander Riger, you cannot possibly believe this boy's words. We were sent here on a mission to destroy this wool farm and head back without harming anyone—not even soldiers." A young man dressed in civilian clothes stepped up from between the knights, urging the commander to change his plans.
"Tex, this young boy has just challenged my honor, and you expect me to what—head back to my house with my tail between my legs? No... My honor is one of the very few things left in me that I feel proud of. I cannot simply let this boy's challenge go unattended... Prepare to move. We will move through the forest with Phoenix formation and follow the boy's path." He commanded his troops with a calm voice.
"Yes, Lord Commander!" Every knight shouted as they immediately regrouped into a formation of a circle around the commander and started moving forward towards the forest, back to Actaeon's nightmares.
Somewhere near the post of Andras's squad, where hostages were being held, lay in wait Tazan and the striking force, anxious about the whereabouts of the fake hostages, unable to make a move and growing restless and more desperate with every passing second.
"What are we going to do, Lord Tazan?" A young boy asked with fear dripping from his eyes. His grip on his sword was shaking from cold and the restless journey and long wait.
An old man held him by his arm, and as the young boy looked the old man in his eyes, the old man shook his head, signaling this was not the right time to ask such questions... not when no one knew the answer to such questions.
Tazan did not even hear the question. His mind was elsewhere—to where his friends and prince were now. "What if they were caught and killed, or worse? What if they told Andras about Nex? Surely even someone as cruel as him would not dare touch an imperial prince. NO! No, what am I even thinking? There is no way this Andras caught on about the fake hostages. I mean, this plan was made with Actaeon and Nex—their plans have yet to fail us once... They just got delayed, and all I have to do is wait here... But what if they don't show up? What should I do? Please tell me, Actaeon, Nex, please."
The old man looked back to the men. Some were sleeping, some had already silently headed back to the village without alerting Tazan, and some waited in desperation, unable to flee even if they wanted to for the sake of their loved ones.
The old man walked up and rested his hand on the giant shoulders of Tazan as he sat observing the guards of the post.
"My child," he said with a low and nervous voice, but determined to have Tazan take control as it was necessary.
Tazan slowly turned around. When he saw the old man, he stood tall and turned to face the old man out of respect.
"Yes, old man, what is it?"
"My young child, the men are growing restless. We have been marching for half a day and waiting for longer. We cannot sustain our supplies waiting here. Some of us have gone hungry for too long, and everyone is questioning what to do... You need to make a decision right here and right now. Do we go back to the village, regroup with everyone, and figure out where Nex and his men went, or do we attack now, taking control of the post even if it means the hostages..." The old man paused, unable to say the rest, and he did not need to. Tazan knew if he was to launch a frontal assault on the post, he could win from the element of surprise and higher numbers; however, that would condemn every hostage to death and deem this whole rescue mission useless.
"I... I do not know what to do, old man. I was never responsible for anyone's life but mine... Decisions were always made and I just followed the plans like I am doing now... But what do I do now, old man? What does your experience of living long tell you I should do?" Tazan asked with a low voice to make sure only the old man heard him. His lips were trembling with desperation with every word.
"I... I do not know either, Lord Tazan... All my life I lived peacefully, caring for sheep and cattle near the northwest... I had never left my hometown before in my sixty-six years of living, and yet here I am fleeing to the most south you can go on this damned continent... I do not have experience leading or with war; however, even someone as useless and inexperienced as I can tell if we wait any longer, our men will die along with the hostages or desert us... And if we head back to the village, these men will never be able to muster the courage to pick up their swords again... So the only option we have is to limit our deaths to being only the hostages while making sure no other hostages happen... But whatever choice you make will be right as long as you make one."
Tazan pondered, looking at the mud with his white eyes for a while, then he picked his head up and gave a firm response.
"Gather the Death Company and tell them to arm themselves."
The old man went around waking men up and signaling with his hands that they stand up, being careful not to shout to reveal their positions ahead of time in case of scouts going around.
The weary and weak villagers gathered. The illusion of courage had disappeared from their faces. No matter how great a speech Nex gave convincing them to run towards death, when actually faced with it, the inexperienced men felt it towering over them with its scythe hovering in front of their necks... This was no idea anymore—it was actually happening. Their eternal sleep was nearing.
"Men, we gathered here today to save our loved ones." Tazan tried to muster courage within the men, but he was far more useful just standing there with his towering and giant presence, as every time he opened his mouth to say a word, his voice cracked, showing how pathetic he truly was without a leader.
The young boy from earlier spotted torches in the forest down below the hill, away from the post guard and road leading to it, hidden by the distance with about five or so torches being lit, marching slowly towards the post.
"Look, over there! It is them!" the young boy shouted with excitement.
The plan was finally moving forward. The heavy load on Tazan's shoulders was lifted for a second as he turned around with a smile erupting from ear to ear.
The men jumped, pushing each other, trying to catch a glimpse of them.
The old man did not smile. He was paranoid. "It has been too long... the plan can never be carried out the same now," he whispered to Tazan as he stepped closer.
The men's and Tazan's smile and happiness disappeared as more and more torches were lit. They gave up on counting them after thirty or so.
They knew even if somehow the plan was carried out after a delay, now with the numbers in the post and the ones coming back, it was not a winning fight. It was not possible anymore. The window of attack had passed long before.
The men's eyes were filled with horror and unspeakable despair. They started dropping their weapons, looking at each other, waiting for someone to say it... "Let's give up on the hostages... Let us flee" were the words they were waiting to hear. Even if a young boy said them out of fear, they would have followed his words.
"Wait, do not be afraid. If it is them, I am sure Actaeon and Nex will come up with a plan to defeat them all. We have to do is wait for them to take the road and the signal from Nex and Actaeon. Trust me... I have been in a far worse and more desperate place than this, but they saved me... We just... We just have to wait... for them." Tazan panicked. It was clear to everyone Tazan was never able to hide his tone and emotions—a trait that always made him unable to lead anyone.
"HE IS RIGHT!" the young boy shouted, followed by the old man after locking eyes. "I ONCE SAW ACTAEON HUNT A BOAR BY HIMSELF USING TRAPS. IF THERE IS ANYONE THAT ANTICIPATED THIS, IT IS HIM. HE WILL GET US OUT OF HERE WITH A CAREFULLY LAID OUT TRAP." The old man's confidence was flowing with every word, carrying hope and a path to the men as they started nervously picking up their weapons again, waiting with a slim hope but still waiting for the chance to flee from responsibility.
Everyone grew closer to the edge of the hill; some young boys even climbed trees to look further ahead... waiting in despair with hope... every second was silent, every second felt further away than the one that just passed waiting for the torches to light the road as they emerged from the trees and bushes... Waiting for their familiar friends and families' faces... Unable to speak, unable to move away... The sound of heartbeats growing louder and pounding faster as the restless night carried the voice of the strong wind from the east, dimming out some torches... Giving false hope to the men, but with every torch that went out... Two more were lit.
After what felt like a lifetime of growing despair, and while some men walked away while everyone was waiting, finally the torches were close to the road—the reveal they were hoping for... Have fate shown these poor bastards kindness and kept their plan intact, or have this unjust world and system prevailed once again, dimming out hopes of any change or chance for justice?
And there it was—the first torch carried by an imperial foot soldier. Andras's squad with their black and red colors emerged from the tree lines just underneath them.
"Come on, move them over here quickly!" the soldier yelled out loud.
A sign of relief fell upon everyone as people started looking at each other with eyes filled with hope and small victory.
Tazan's eyes grew with tears of happiness. His worry was for nothing—his friend Actaeon was just about to step out of the tree line. The plan was somewhat still successful even if not everything went correctly...
The old man smiled as he took a quick glance at Tazan and back at the treeline with anticipation.
And the young boy was filled with joy. "I told you so... I told you it is them," he whispered to the old man as they both laughed silently.
But none of them knew... This would be the little bit of heaven... before the hell they were about to fall into.
Everyone quickly fell silent and froze as beds were carried out of the treelines by six soldiers... Most of them thought they recognized them from their homes in the village of Lif... But that was not what terrified and broke them.
It was what the beds carried... Bodies of their women with feet sticking out of their stomachs and hands sticking out of holes in their faces... Some elderly were mounted on banners, some's heads were carried by hand, and the children were burnt and dragged on a sheet by the horses. This wasn't random poor villagers... These were their loved ones.
The boy's mind broke with voices shattering his reason as he saw his mother's body on the bed with limbs growing out of every hole they opened in her.
The old man wept with a lost voice, unable to contain his emotions, reaching out to his brother's head that was mounted on a stake and carried as a trophy.
Tazan was launched back along with many others who did not recognize their loved ones' bodies yet... Tazan looked away... He had heard about such art pieces from the Chief, but hearing about them... and seeing them were two completely different things.
Some of the men were lucky enough to be able to cover their mouths with their hands and did not have to weep at the sight of their loved ones between the monstrous work of Andras and his squad.
Others were not able to handle the sight and vomited upon seeing it and ran away, leaving their weapons and armor behind.
And some were broken... Their reason for being here ready to fight Andras was in front of them, displayed even after their death as art pieces, unable to rest buried. Treated as a trophy... as livestock... as inhuman.
"What are they... What is that... WHY?! WHY DID THEY HAVE TO DIE JUST WHY?! WHY AREN'T THEY ALLOWED PEACE EVEN AFTER DEATH!" Tazan broke in tears, glancing to the bodies, looking for his friends Actaeon and Nex but unable to look for long, vomiting and breaking down while looking away... He kept trying to look for his friends, for the infant, and even for people he recognized from the village, and then there it was.
The blacksmith's hands were nailed to his head as horns, and he was carried on Chief Oryin's wheelchair while finally the mastermind behind all of this finally showed himself.
Andras was carried by a horse, fat and slow just like him... He was holding a burnt arm in his hand, taking bites out of it and occasionally force-feeding his horse, opening its mouth with his fat hand and throwing a piece inside as he was laughing at the sights of the bodies and at the horse's inability to run away or fight back.
Tazan and the men watched broken, silently, unable to speak, unable to comfort each other, as Andras and his men walked past them and into the post. The horrors of what just passed by them was nothing a human should ever see in their lives. What could they have done? Other than watch and break down trying to understand Andras and his men's nature.
Helpless as ants being stepped on, as sheep being slaughtered, as deer being hunted for a game, and finally as common folk of the empire with no power and with no protection or care from anyone.