Dark Age Year 872
Twelfth day of the Forth month
As the battle finally came to an end, Cenric felt the rush of his heart and blood die down as quickly as it had come, with the danger now passed. It was a feeling he would never get used to, the quickness of thought and actions in the heat of the moment that he wasn’t sure were his own. Looking around and taking stock of his surroundings, which had all happened so fast, he saw that Tharos was on the ground and wasn’t getting up. Without even thinking, he rushed to Tharos’ side, quickly joined by Rayner. Cenric was the first to reach him, finding Tharos on the ground after being dropped by the spider monster. Before the creature took its last breath, Cenric noticed that Tharos was covered in splashes of red and green blood. His armour was heavily dented, and his sword was held weakly in his hand, his shield crushed into pieces in the melee. Some of the splinters were embedded in his flesh across his arm and into the side of his torso. Where there were holes and gaps in his armour, some of the splinters were slowly being pushed out with blood filling in the gaps, which was being replaced with freshly formed skin. Upon closer inspection, Cenric saw that Tharos was paler than usual, his breathing faint and almost non-existent. He lay motionless, resembling a corpse. Beads of sweat started to drip down his body, and the two small holes where the spider monster had bitten him were not healing as quickly as they normally would. Around the wounds, instead of the flawless, almost blemish-free and timeless tanned brown skin that should have been there, what replaced it was exposed and raw flesh that was almost charcoal black like the soot from a campfire with a green tinge like fresh leaves, spreading out and marking Tharos’ skin like the roots of a firm and old tree. In fact, it looked like it was spreading across his body like bolts of lightning.
He had seen Tharos survive things that would have crippled or killed most people twice over. This was surely nothing that Tharos couldn’t handle, and there was no need to worry. However, this looked serious. Any injuries Tharos suffered would heal up pretty quickly; cuts would vanish as quickly as they were made, broken bones would mend together in seconds, and severed limbs would reattach with no issue. Getting injured wasn’t a problem for Tharos. And although Cenric hated to admit this fact, he had seen enough corpses and killed more than enough people at this point to know when someone didn’t look right. Was normal something he could even apply to someone like Tharos? He wasn’t sure. “Are you okay?” he said as he tried to nudge him awake. As he did so, he saw Tharos’ eyes open weakly, and he tried to swat Cenric away before closing his eyes again. It was like he was in a daze and wasn’t fully aware of what was going on or that he was there. At this, Rayner rushed over.
“Come on, Tharos,” he said as he slapped him across the face. “Wake up.” Rayner yelled in his face as Tharos opened his eyes again and weakly tried to shoo him away.
Rayner then turned to him and said, “The milk drinker is out of it. What happened?”
“I don’t know, I think he got bitten by that monster.” he replied.
Rayner shook his head. “Oh, by the Frozen North.”
“What are we going to do?” he asked. Rayner looked at him and shot him a glare. “Do I look like a healer? The best we can do is wait until the poison wears off. I’m sure he will be fine; he’s had worse.” At that moment, Cenric turned and saw the people they came here to save starting to approach. The one who spoke first was the one carrying the flower banner. He was a short man with a lean and strong body, dark blonde and wavy hair, dark blue eyes, and a strong jaw. He had a massive scar across the left side of his face and appeared to be missing teeth in the front of his bottom jaw, which had been replaced by some sort of plate. Cenric couldn’t help but look at it and wonder what had happened to him to sustain such injuries. He was wearing a well-polished suit of breastplate armour that was golden in colour, along with a well-crafted bastard sword in his scabbard on his back, with a mace and dagger attached to his belt. Cenric believed his name was Noctis, and out of the three of them, it was Noctis who spoke first.
“I don’t know much about your friend there, but the fact that he is still alive is a miracle in itself. I wouldn’t count on him lasting longer than a few more minutes.”
As Rayner was about to address him, another voice interrupted them. “Noctis, you forgot your manners. These people have come to our aid and saved our lives,” the tallest of the three answered. He was tall, perhaps only a bit shorter than Rayner, with a well-proportioned body and strong limbs. He had piercing gray eyes, like the colour of polished swords, short black hair resembling the curtain of night, and a broad, rugged face with a scar that ran down his left eye. He was wearing a chain shirt, leather greaves, and underneath that was a fancy pair of robes that were in tatters. Cenric heard that his name was Quintus. Noctis looked back at Quintus. “Would you have me lie to them and give them false hope?” Quintus ignored him and walked closer to them. He was only a few feet away from them, and even this close, Cenric found his voice charming and almost soothing. It was the type of voice that could command you to do anything they wanted, and you couldn’t refuse it. It was like his willpower was being sapped away and replaced with blind obedience to the young man standing before him, as if he was born to command respect and admiration from all that stood before him. As he snapped out of it, Quintus continued, “I apologise for my friend’s comment, but he is correct. The bite from the Arachne can be quite lethal. In fact, it is a miracle your friend is still alive at this moment. However…”
So that’s what that monster called Cenric thought to himself. “Is there anything we can do?” Cenric asked, cutting Quintus off. He saw Quintus put his hand to his chin for a moment in thought. “Our camp is only a few miles away,” he pointed north. “If we hurry, we might be able to treat your friend in time. An Arachne bite is certainly lethal, but if tended to promptly, the victim could be saved.”
“Quintus, are you sure that’s wise? By the time we get there, he could be dead,” the shortest of the group said beneath his helm. Cenric thinks his name is Volcan.
“Ye of little faith,” Quintus answered back. “Remind me how many times I was told victory was impossible, yet I snatched it from the jaws of defeat.”
“More times than I or your father care to count,” Volcan answered. Cenric could hear a sigh under the dwarf helm.
“What are we waiting for?” Rayner exclaimed, ready to pick up Tharos’s barely conscious body, when Cenric heard more footsteps and shouting approaching the clearing. “This way,” a young man in fine robes with a follower symbol and armed with a dagger appeared, leading several dozen heavily armoured men, most of whom were wearing scale mail or chain hauberks and armed with a variety of weapons such as swords, axes, spears, crossbows, and short bows, some of which were aimed at him or Rayner. “Your lordship,” one of the soldiers called out. “You’re safe,” he called out, as he and several others bowed slightly before halting.
Without hesitation, he extended his hand baying them to stop and then pointed at Tharos, and then started swiftly issuing orders. “Take this man to the apothecary immediately. He was bitten by an Arachne,” he instructed, gesturing to a few soldiers, then motioned to the rest. “Check for survivors,” he directed, indicating the other bodies on the ground. With getting a simple yes in repose. In a matter of moments, the soldiers moved swiftly and urgently. Some of them hurried to Tharos’s side, placed him on a stretcher they quickly assembled, and carried him away. Meanwhile, other soldiers checked the bodies and eliminated any remaining forest spiders that could be a threat. The Arachne eggs were swiftly grabbed and smashed on the ground, with several soldiers stomping on them with their armoured boots and sandals. Cenric watched this in amazement before his attention was drawn to Quintus. Quintus addressed them both, and Cenric felt himself snap to attention.
“With that out of the way, allow me to properly introduce myself,” he said, giving himself a small bow. “I am Quintus Florianus, prince of the Anathonians.”
“So, you’re the famous Prince of Black. I have heard so much about you,” Rayner said. “I heard you gave that old bastard Iason the giant a run for his coin a few years back.” He looked at him puzzled, as he had never heard of this Iason the giant before. He assumed he must be just another warlord. Cenric then saw Quintus give a throaty chuckle at that. “Yes, that would be me. But to give the old man his due, he gave as good as he got,” Quintus added. Rayner chuckled at that as well before they were both interrupted.
“Well, I suggest you don’t refer to him by that name. That name was given to him as an insult by his enemies,” Noctis interjected, spitting on the ground next to him, with little drips of blood in the spit. “They suggest he is a black-hearted prince who cares not for his people.”
“I will call him whatever I want, little man,” Rayner said with a small wolfish smile on his lips.
He noticed that Noctis looked at Rayner with zero fear in his eyes and seemed about to reach for his sword before stopping as Quintus gave him a small look before continuing to speak. “This is my standard bearer, Noctis Aurum,” he said, gesturing to the handsome and short man beside him. “Don’t take it too personally,” he said, looking at both Rayner and Noctis. Compared to Quintus or Rayner, Noctis looked small. However, despite his short stature, there was something about him that scared Cenric, Although he did know why.
“You can just call me Noctis, and here’s a word of advice for you, kid,” Noctis said, pointing to his chin. “If you ever have the coin to get a proper helmet, make sure it’s visored,” he said with a small but serious smile.
“Understood,” Cenric said as he nodded.
“And this is Volcan Stoneaxe,” he said as he concluded his introductions. Volcan then lifted the visor, revealing a rough-looking face with a strong and pointed nose, dark brown eyes, auburn hair, and a well-trimmed beard and moustache.
“Aye, call me Volcan,” he said as he placed his halberd firmly on the ground. He was wearing a crude-looking suit of full plate armour, and tied to his side was a short sword. This was the first dwarf he had ever met, well, the first alive one he had ever met. He still remembers all those dead people they came across in those ruins months ago. However, this dwarf was a lot taller than he was expecting, only a few inches shorter than Noctis, who was short. Afterward, both he and Rayner introduced themselves. Cenric was about to give a small bow, but Quintus gestured for him to stop.
“Well, thank you, Cenric and Rayner, for coming to our aid. How did you find us?” Quintus asked. Cenric spoke up, “One of your servants told us you were in danger; his name was Titus,” he said, pointing in the direction they came from and explaining where they encountered him. “He…,” Cenric looked down for a moment, “He didn’t make it.” Quintus looked at him, puzzled. “Could you please repeat that. What did he say his name was?” he asked. Cenric looked around for a moment and saw the servant who had shown up with more soldiers. The person they came across looked exactly like him, eerily similar. “He looked like him and called himself Titus,” Cenric said again, pointing to the servant.
Quintus turned his gaze towards the servant and then ordered a few of the soldiers to head in the direction that Cenric pointed to. He then turned his head back to Cenric, noticing Noctis and Volcan giving him odd looks. “That would be Titus; he is one of my household servants, as you can see, he is alive and well,” Quintus said, pointing to him. “I am not accusing you of anything, but you must have misremembered because it couldn’t have been him.”
Cenric looked confused and turned to Rayner. “Surely I’m not mistaken,” Cenric said, seeking confirmation or denial from Rayner. Rayner replied, “No, you’re not mistaken.” There was an awkward pause for a few moments, which was broken when Quintus turned to Noctis and Volcan. “Maybe the gods intervened on your behalf,” Noctis suggested. “Perhaps it was a changeling,” Volcan added.
“Enough, we will drop this now,” Quintus sighed. “With that out of the way, I would like to add,” he said, looking at Rayner. “I never thought I would meet the Crimson Wolf himself in person. It is an honour.” “Oh, stop, you’re going to make me blush,” Rayner chuckled. Ignoring Rayner’s comment, Quintus continued speaking before Noctis interrupted him and whispered something in his ear. “And if you’re Rayner, then that means your friend must be that famous mercenary I’ve heard so much about, the one they call Tharos, Is that correct?”
“Wait, you know who are.” he asked.
“Well, only by reputation. I heard there was a new hired sword making a name for themselves in the frontiers. Called Tharos, who travelled and kept company with Rayner the Crimson Wolf, and an unnamed handsome youth,” he said with a broad smile. “And I assume that youth would be you,” Quintus asked him.
“Yes, that would be me, but I wouldn’t call myself unnamed or handsome,” Cenric said as he straightened his face. He then noticed Quintus nudge Noctis’s arm. Playfully “However, it seems those stories about him were not as outlandish as I first thought. Isn’t that right, Noctis?”
“Yes, if he able to slay the Arachne in single combat.” Noctis said, giving a nod. “Maybe the other stories he heard about him are also true.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Quintus said with a wide smile.
“Impressive for a human,” Volcan added. “Perhaps if he recovers, maybe you’ll get a duel out of him. I know you have an itching for a challenge since your encounter with Azure of Kenshi.” Cenric saw Quintus put his hand to his chin in thought.
“An interesting thought if he recovers. But in the meantime would you two like to join us in our camp and have some lunch? All this excitement has got me working up an appetite. Do you all agree?” Quintus said, turning to his companions, some of whom raised their arms and shouted in agreement.
He looked at Rayner. “Well, I wouldn’t mind. What about you?” he asked Rayner. “Do you have any meat?” Rayner asked.
“Oh, plenty, especially for a warrior such as yourself,” Quintus said with a smile. After several more minutes, they followed Quintus and his entourage back to their camp. As they did so, Cenric turned his head back the way they came. For a moment, in the treeline, he thought he saw a flash of gold. Focusing on it, he saw that same golden stag again. It looked at him and moved its head, bending its knees back slightly and lowering its head as if trying to give him a small bow. Cenric rubbed his eyes and looked again to see if he wasn’t seeing things, but it was gone, faded into the air as if it had never been there to begin with. Cenric started to wonder if he was just seeing things or if there were bigger forces at play that led them to saving Quintus’ life. He didn’t know the answer, and he didn’t want to know because the implications might be more horrifying than anything he could conceive. As he continued to stare at where the golden stag had been, he heard Rayner call out to him, “What are you gawking at now?” Cenric snapped out of his trance, realising he was lagging behind the group. He quickly turned and followed them. “Nothing, I just thought I saw something.”
“You saw what?” Rayner asked.
“That golden stag again,” Cenric replied.
Rayner looked past him. “Look, I don’t see anything. You’re seeing things.”
“Maybe,” he said, slightly agreeing, as he kept staring out. But there was nothing there but the trees, grass, and a lake stained red with blood. Slowly in the sky far above the treeline, a small flock of birds was forming, starting to circle overhead the battlefield. They were most likely some sort of scavenger birds attracted by the smell of death and the prospect of an easy meal, here to profit from the death of others. Cenric then shook his head and turned around to follow Quintis and the others.
