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  The first bolt hit the Dalious easy. It was a clear shot and the lizard wasn’t paying much attention. All of Nuem’s troops had been slaughtered like disgruntled sheep by the imperial column and now they had sprung into methodical action. Laura shouted more orders to the troops, seemingly suprised when soldiers two times her senior followed with undying devotion. Their responses gave her confidence that would have seemed surreal only days prior. Spit flew through the air while Aloat screamed for the troops to reload.

  The Dalious however was still struggling to pry the wooden shaft from it’s shoulder with the spiked projectile drawing thick gushing streams of blood. The creature slammed into two imperials, killing them in an instant.

  Another bolt hit its shoulder.

  It’s eyes looked in a state of pure unbridled panic. For a splinter of time, the Lizard’s own brain took over function from the implant to fully compromise it’s derailment from the master’s vision. Jan however was still screeching like a wet blanket over the increasing pile of ratling corpses. Electricity crackled in the blood-water, Sill’s incandescent shout’s kept the battlefield from being too quiet however the wake of the battlefield had begun to stake it’s claim.

  The Dalious charged at Aloat and Laura with what little strength it had left. Another shot reigned true with more of the imperials throwing stolen spears and porcupining the great warrior beast in a circle. The tremendous skill of one ferocious leader was rendered null to instinctive tactics.

  At last, the great beast began to stagger.

  It stood forward swinging two to three times out of sheer desperation, the forked tongue lacing the air wildly, mouth open trying to catch the last twist of breath. More green blood steaked the side of it’s face like licks of acid trickling down to burn the meadowy ground. In one final act of defiance, the Dalious swung it’s sword forward and stared into Jan’s eyes with a strange look. It was one not laced with hate but a strange mixture of confusion and loss.

  It picked up Laura, trying to claw her to death with the seconds of life left with in it's scaly grasp.

  Another bolt slammed into the lizard's chest.

  The creature howled in pain before stumbling back.

  Unknown to the scribe at the time, the Lizard’s eyes took every last second it had to cherish the one blessing the master’s fleshy implant had provided, the ability for a creature that once dined on rotting flesh to appreciate the beauty of noon-day sun.

  Then the lizard crumbled onto the ground dead.

  The crowd instantly celebrated.

  A thousand ratlings had been slaughtered that day.

  Jan stood ontop of a mound of bodies, waist deep into the carrion.

  He was a victor in a legend only fools would believe true. Kiff’s memory was intact.

  The bulwark of the once-monsterous horde had already split for the treeline to join their fleeting comrades at the sight of the Dalious’s defeat. What little idiotic or fanatic ratlings remained rushed towards the lizards aid and brushed like flies from the forest floor. Jan too stumbled forward before staring off into the distance. Two soldiers caught his exhausted arms to help him stand like a hero above the muck. More joined afterwards.

  “You….. you saved us….”

  “It…..it’s an honour to fight for you Consul…..” Words laced the air. Jan was barely able to comprehend their meaning.

  “Congratulations Commander!!!!!! We have officially received approval from these primitives!!!! We’re integrating well into society.”

  “I’ll tell my children about this Consul!! If I have any!!” another added starkly.

  Voices cried out from among the imperial lines. Then another whisper began to brew like rising storm. More soldiers began to carry an exhausted Jan to the center with a care they have once only devoted to closest friends. Aloat looked onward with a tinge of jealousy and curiosity. She did however, stalk some praise from the surrounding soldiers and played up on how the Dalious was killed through her own ballista-wielding ingenuity.

  “Make way for the Consul!!!”

  Another soldier muttered praise with an arrow sticking from his back. He ignored the mortal wound to help Jan stagger to his feet. Others had stumbled upon Nuem’s healing draught supply and began an excessive bathing and cheering in the ichor-like liquid like children. Undisciplined by the foreign idea of safety, they began to gorge themselves on the dried rations and surplus of supplies the bandits had sequestered into a veritable stockpile. Laura half joined them with the group avoiding any chance of tainted meat while devouring the stolen imperial rations and mounds of fresh produce in a starving fervour. Aloat did however place a hand on Jan’s shoulder and cherished the crowd’s praise with lofty hand gestures.

  “Consul Theric saved us!”

  Jan’s heart seemed to swell in size and his face lit up with a shower of warmth. For one of the first times in his entire life he felt proud.

  “The Crowd is elated Commander!!!! Say something cool!!!!”

  He had done something good. For once since it’s inception, the Herald would have to write a positive article, reflection, or interview that didn’t turn into a scandalous tabloid by the third line. Praise showered him in a blanket he could barely understand.

  Purpose.

  Jan was just about to speak before a shout echoed across the camp. It was Paxter. The Lieutenant ran over and hugged him with a lopsided grin. His hands had been tied but he had seemingly chewed off the binds with a ratling sword while the fighting had begun. A meshwork of bruises and cuts signified the soldier had been exposed to tortutre but the three ignored their former Commander’s objections and rushed to squeeze him half to death. They were grateful the man was still alive. Then, while trying to catch the soldier up to speed with a lengthy monologue and unbelievable tale about a “demonic rock” and the creation of electricity from spicy canteens, they lumbered towards the Dalious’s body.

  It seemed larger up close.

  “How on……. did you kill it?”

  “How did you kill all of this?” Paxter said with his mouth wide.

  The entire army had formed a circle around the corpse. The monstrous abomination drawing in their greatest fears about the state of a once placid disease. It was a near eight feet tall now, having enlarged itself during the time of the fighting. The mush of pusilant flesh on it’s head was still alive and squirmed like a separate structure from the creature’s skull. The others nearly barfed when Laura grabbed a sword and prodded it to death while avoiding the acidic secretions that spewed like a wet sneeze. They watched in astonishment at the decaying flesh of a monster that should never have been able to exist.

  “A little bit of luck and a little bit of electricity,” Laura beamed.

  “Can you replicate it?”

  “Yes…I think” She replied.

  Paxter's face grew even more astounded.

  It felt absolutely diabolical to make jokes while steeped in ratling guts and a plateau of death but the group were morbidly desensitized.

  “We should totally keep it’s head,” Aloat muttered.

  “What?!!!” Laura screeched.

  “Oh come on? Like anyone is going to believe us if we don’t?”

  At first this seemed repulsive but an elated roar from the crowd of sword-happy imperials proved otherwise Aloat seemed to size it up with her eyes as if to estimate the size of trophy backing it would need. It’s dull lifeless eyes would mirror the paintings she hung in her office. Jan looked a little queasy while Laura leaned forward with a scientific expression. She still had the technical readouts of Sill’s electricity contraption tucked safely in her own backpack, as would a child. Jan would have to take a look at those later. If they could zapp more people the imperials would have a significant advantage, regardless Sill seemed to think the procedure was exclusive towards those with “Command” chips. Likely it was a synonym for some kind of status or hierarchical hegemony in the rock’s mind.

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  “They’ll believe the money and supplies we bring back” Jan wheezed.

  They were practically drowning in a wealth of inventory. He looked away while the imperials who did the least amount of fighting followed strict orders to collect a dozen of the infected ratling heads and began to saw off the Dalious’s own head. It felt wrong to desecrate the corpse but there was little chance in hell any bureaucrat from here to Wei would so much as spit on their story without more proof. Then the group began to fully dawn on the ramifications of what had just transpired.

  “Thousands of ratlings, working together as one unified band under the leadership of a monstrous creature that shouldn’t have been able to wear clothes, let alone speak. Bandits, imperial gold and lay about like gruel,” Laura whispered.

  “This is going to be a hell of alot of paperwork,” Aloat muttered.

  “We also made electricity!” Laura added with a smile.

  “Is no one going to mention that I just killed a thousand ratlings?” Jan let out a loose whisper.

  “Battery at near 0% Commander!! I suggest we don’t do any more augments until we charge more!” Sill replied for the whole group to hear.

  Paxter however stood a little straighter as he tried to orient himself towards the new events.

  “You guys are thinking small, this army didn’t come from nowhere. It needed supply chains, it has inventory, and more than enough weaponry for the two thousand ratlings. We need to go back to that “Primelords” tent and then leave fast. The man spent an hour lecturing me while torturing our troops. This was just a taste of their forces.”

  “A taste?” Jan’s heart weakened. He was completely exhausted to the point of barely keeping his eyelids open. Even the smallest engagement would likely cause him to faint. A streaking flek of dust could cause the scribe to faint at the slightest touch. A large quantity of the troops were muching on food now and trying to devour any of the dry rations and non-perishables Nuem’s forces had collected. This were incresingly worried by the prospect of eating infected game but hunger took it’s stride.

  “There’s something else in there I think you should see. The Primelord didn’t look it but he was old, very old, still alive and there were paintings of him and maps in that tent with dates that were impossible.”

  This caught Aloat’s attention who looked up from the ground in wonder. It wasn’t unheard of for individuals to live well past their years. The famed Archmage of Quina, lived to two hundred and seven before dying in a soup eating competition. King Chitter had lived to eighty seven (that’s very old for a ratling) through a constant infusion of healing potions twice a day, that was until the ratling warlords poisoned him in a twist of fate that shattered their entire empire. Many draughts and healing spells were able to keep individuals kicking beyond their years. That did not however mean it was common and performing life altering magic spells was both extremely difficulty and expensive. That being said, majority of methods simply extended the life force of the individual and did not halt or stall the progression of age with the patient having to devout their skeletal life to a patchwork of cures aimed at playing whack-a-mole with the horrid afflictions of elder years. Nuem however didn’t look at day past forty.

  “Imported oil paintings you say?”

  “Did you hear anything important I said?” Paxter followed up.

  Paxter pulled an imperial from the clump, which had been fawning over the exuberant amount of gold.

  “Tell them what you told me.”

  The man looked a little in shock to be face-to-face with Jan, but let out a loose lisp of words.

  “I know the way back, you see that peak! That’s Dvawl Mountain, we can be on the main road within a day.”

  Relief spread across their faces. Following the tracks of Nuem’s forces would have their only option otherwise. All of the horses in the entire encampment had been taken in the retreat however time in the pit had made the prospect of marching more appeasing. A night camped in the forest wouldn’t be great but Nuem definitely had a compass or sextant lying around they could use for navigation.

  More cries came out as the imperial troops found the stashes of bandit gold and stolen quands hidden among their ranks. Against Paxter’s advice, Jan had cited they could keep as much as they could carry for themselves. In response, the troop had become one of the wealthiest groups of citizenry to grace Dawnshire in a thousand years and seemed even more enamoured with the young scribe. Laura continued to much on a mango pilfered from the enemy supplies. She devoured the fruit greedily.

  “You think their planning to siege Kag?” Laura asked.

  “Definitely,” Aloat and Jan said in unison.

  They all seemed to stop in contemplation. The silence was enough to confirm suspicions.

  “Oh and you two, stop trying to hide that rock, I saw you muttering to to like an idiot multiple times.”

  Aloat perked up at this and spoke out.

  “It’s demonic, these’s no way it’s not evil and it’s the creatures own machinations that lent Jan power!”

  The sudden revelation shocked both of them with Sill opening up through ecstatic words.

  “Thank youuuu Jannic lowlife, don’t listen to the evil subpar Jannic!!!!! Commander Jan!!! I think this must have been a small raiding or escort party devised for you……we need to leave fast before more enemies arrive!”

  The others ignored Aloat but Paxter’s faced drooped in some recognition that there were other problems to be dealt with soon. His first impression of Sill had much to be desired.

  “I agree with Sill, we need to put distance between us and this…and….we need to find any cure for the changing we can find some of our own troops might be infected.” Laura replied.

  The others nodded.

  “Sill? You two seriously named that thing “rock” in Wei?” Paxter added with a huff.

  They didn’t acknowledge his statement but Aloat rolled her eyes before shouting at more soldiers to cut the Dalious’s head off faster.

  “What do you advise we do?” Jan perked up.

  Soldiers quieted at this with the remaining survivors suddenly perking up when the scribe spoke. They clung to his every word. Paxter’s authority of command seemed like memory of the undying loyalty he had once wielded. The others seemed shocked by Sill’s mysterious voice and the idea of sentences being formed from whisps of nothing but found it only to be a supplementary mystery compared to the days ludicrous events.

  “I don’t know……honestly, I don’t know” the Luitenant responded.

  “This is your moment Commander!!!!! Take charge of these Jannics and let’s march to defend Kag! The enemy of our enemy is our friend and Kag must be defended!!!”

  They heard this too but simply shrugged. In a strange twist of fate Laura was the first one to speak out. She stood tall among the wavy field, mosquitoes buzzing over her head with the sun’s soft glow warming over.

  “Gather as much spoils as you can carry, take as much as you want without slowing yourself down!! We leave in two hours”

  Then turning with the other two they trekked to investigate Nuem’s tent.

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  The Plucky Duck had become a hot spot in recent days. Hundreds of customers had taken to the trail in recognition of the season’s profitable trading margins. Mining guilds, mage leagues, farmers and even wandering merchants stocked the Inn’s rooms to the brim. Oldsgood smiled while he slowly nursed his hand back into fruition. The pitiful excuse for imperials had nearly tortured him like corrupt swine, he took pride in the fact the Primelord likely had to group-dangle over rusty knives or gutted like fish to feed the ratling horde. He smiled to think of that famous imperials high pitch scream. Times like that, working for the Primelord would have been it’s own reward. Years of silent messages, providing horses to travellers in the dead of night and eavesdropping on town guard to relay details to shadow figures had paid off when Oldsgood was approached by the group as part of their larger plan. There were however minor alterations to the story that caused Oldsgood to worry.

  “So we can get a discount on the rooms right?”

  He reached forward to pour a drink for the imperial inspector from the brand new tap. The man stunk with the stench of corruption Nuem had promised to destroy. The fresh ale was some of the finest imports in the entire province. One the innkeeper could now afford.

  “Say Barkeep, how’d you get so rich?” the bureaucrat laughed.

  He didn’t grace him with a response, only an extra drink.

  The smell of those subhuman creatures still filled Oldsgood’s mind whenever he went to fetch wine from the cellar. There will holes and lacerations in the buildings foundation from when the watcher and wrought iron box had been installed but the Primelords soldiers had removed the contraption after it’s use had been complete. A smaller less potent watcher had been installed. It's radius was smaller but it would still work. He shuddered to think how valuable the target must have really been to merrit such lengthy distractions and countermeasures. Granted when the Dalious showed up Oldsgood had been half-frightened to death but the pay was good enough for him to shake hands with a Dragon let alone serve ratlings his signature onion soup. He had been smart enough to purchase a few vials of the changling cure for himself of course. Today was gambling night, tomorrow farmers would ride out for their annual meeting, the day after he had merchant’s who wanted to open up a guild office in his hall. Business was lively in entrepreneurial spirit and Oldsgood had become a profitable man.

  In just one month, the barkeep had been able to afford an extra addition to the stable, three hired hands, and renovations that expanded the Inn with eight more rooms. He had even payed an accountant to straighten their finances and begin construction of a second Inn no more than an hours ride toward Manchulin. His own bed was made of silk and he had hired guards to patrol the premises and fight back any street urchins or wandering monsters that dared gaze on the Inn’s dormat. He had even taken up painting again and had purchased some of the finest canvas and colours Kag had to offer. That would be before the city was besieged but Oldsgood doubted it would change much. A swift switch-up in local management would only mean more travellers fleeing the cities and placing themselves in the trust of his Inn. Those envious neighbours, villagers, false friends and family had practically thrown themselves at Oldsgood like wretched parasites at the slightest whiff of his fortunes.

  In all of his seventy or so years of life the innkeeper had never had so much money. Peace one only attributed to nobles and wealthy swine like those three Sherrifs was available to him a common man like him, life was great. His basement was still brimming with half a million quands, his pockets deep and his step were now steeped in capitalist glory. Enough money to found a small city let alone pay for an exuberant sprawl of luxury was at his fingertips and while the Primelord had promised a contingent of soldiers would pick up the funds, they were late and he didn’t mind holding onto the money for a few more days.

  It had taken him a painful amount of time to discover where those three idiots had buried the money but he had used the pit for the body the Lizard had left behind. It was a shame they had to kill so young but Oldsgood’s greed quickly diswayed any feelings of remorse. The Primelord had been kind enough to let him keep their horses.

  “So you haven’t seen either three Sheriffs or the Consul at all?” the man asked firmly.

  “Like I said no, but I suggest you two go further south, they left their in quite a hurry, said something about a pit?”

  Sometimes feeding snibbits of truth was a good method of misdirection. Regardless he could make the inspectors someone elses problem.

  There was only one slight issue. Oldsgood backed into one of the newly imported paintings that lay on the wall. He had recently commissioned a portrait of himself infront of the Pucky Duck to hang over the foremost wall. Those imperials hadn’t been some lowly bribable scum or your average foreign grunt. Someone had come to check in. Two inspectors sat dining on the barkeeps finest produce. The red robed fools laughed and chortled like pigs in swine with their ignorant faces likely completely unsuspecting of what came next. In a swift motion Oldsgood turned to the window and poured water out of his newly enchanted sink. It was expensive but well worth every drop, a luxury only the rich could afford now trivialized by tainted wealth.

  “I can’t believe we’re looking for Aloat Barka!! She’s like the most famous soldier in all of Kag!!”

  The innkeeper shuddered. He was trying his best to avoid suspicion. Thankfully many people disappeared in these parts but there was only so much he could do to hide the recent renovations on the inn’s floors. Chips in the wood ceiling still shone where the dead one had waved his sword and it was already hard to explain his injuries.

  “Not to mention that upstart good for nothing….who was it again?”

  Nuem had promised this wouldn’t happen. The Primelord and his messengers were nowhere to be seen. The feeling stung with the weight of betrayal on his mind.

  “Barkeep? More caviar please! I don’t know how you get it so far away from shore!”

  Oldsgood complied. He was about to slip a little tinge of arsenic in their food when his hand fumbled. Something was moving outside the window. A large group of people. The entire store began to brighted up with whispers and more merchants and travellers crossing the road outside.

  Nuem, at last, I can be rid of these pigs

  Then he saw the glint of red armour.

  Fear.

  Oldsgood dropped his glass, letting it fall to the ground and shatter on the floor. The inspectors watched with confusion until they turned to look slightly relieved at what lay infront.

  Eighty soldiers walked with purpose down the muddy road.

  The innkeeper’s face dropped to a complete stupor. His hand was shaking while he looked on with a dazed glance of confusion.

  “Barkeep, why is an army outside our door?” A patron asked in a calm tone.