Dark Age Year 871
Twenty First day of the Third month
Dark clouds loomed overhead, heavy rain pouring down on them as they travelled through dirt pathways that were quickly turning into mud under the hooves of horses and wheels of their wagon. The stone roads were being eroded by the elements. Upon their return to Golden Apple by late afternoon, cold, wet, and stained with mud, they were promptly informed by a villager that Nico was waiting for them in his house. The villagers appeared nervous and tense as they approached the house, sensing a subtle tension in the air. However, their presence seemed to alleviate some of the unease that had gripped the atmosphere. This fear was distinct, not the sudden rush of adrenaline that comes with being scared, nor the bone-chilling dread that freezes the blood. It was a lingering fear, a sense of impending doom that gnawed at their hearts and minds, reducing even the most rational individuals to their primal instincts. This fear had the power to transform the civilised human race into fearful and desperate creatures, devoid of their usual rationality.
As they entered the house, tracking mud and water on the wooden floor, the three of them were greeted by the smell of freshly baked bread and warm vegetable soup, along with a large clay jug of water and a bottle of wine. It wasn’t much, but they were not going to complain after their long journey. They sat down at the dining room table with fresh loaves of bread and jugs of water in front of them, clearly set out for them. Nico then hurried into the room, his chubby face flushed with sweat and pale, rubbing his hands in circular motions as he sat down to catch his breath. Tharos could sense a feeling of fear creeping into the air, even in the cosy and relaxed atmosphere of Nico’s house. It was as if the dread overtaking the village was now seeping into this most hallowed of homes. A place of not only authority but also comfort for many of the villagers.
“It’s good to see the three of you have made it back safely. Did your investigation bear any fruit?” Nico asked, his voice sounding nervous and faint.
“Yes, our investigation was quite fruitful. Before we discuss the details, may I ask what’s the matter? You seem flustered,” Nico poured himself some wine and offered Tharos, Rayner, and Cedric a glass. Tharos accepted, while Cedric and Rayner were too focused on their meal to notice, engrossed in bread and soup.
Nico paused, his eyes reflecting sorrow as he recounted the tragic incident. “There was an attack on villagers who were gathering berries in the woods. It was a terrible ordeal.” Tharos interrupted him, gesturing for him to stop.
“Are there any survivors?” Tharos asked in a clear tone of voice.
“Just one,” Nico said sadly. “He’s badly injured, and we’re not sure if he’ll make it through the night.”
“Did you get a description of the attacker?” Tharos had some suspicions but wanted to confirm his thoughts.
“We didn’t get much out of him, I am afraid, before he lost consciousness.”
“Well, let me know if he recovers because I will have some questions to ask him.”
“What did you find during your investigation?”
Tharos stood up straight and leaned in, emphasise the seriousness of his next words. “Our investigation has revealed evidence pointing to the involvement of a necromancer. My suspicions have been confirmed,”
Nico’s eyes widened, his face paling even further as the colour drained from his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What do you recommend we do, Master Tharos?”
Several ideas raced through his mind about what to do. The safest choice he could think of was to evacuate the village until the necromancer was dealt with. While this was the best long-term option, it could have unintended consequences in the short term for both the villagers and the surrounding area. Another option was to gather the villagers and have them defend their home, at least to buy time for Tharos to locate the necromancer. However, this would put many lives at risk, and there was no guarantee that the villagers, even with their help, could withstand the onslaught of undead creatures under the necromancer’s control. Considering that such periods of war and strife, like the one Aria was currently going through, were breeding grounds for such dark magic. The other option, a more self-serving one, was for all three of them to depart. Despite the local necromancer causing havoc, it was a manageable issue. Most necromancers could only control small armies of undead, typically numbering a few hundred. While these armies could be easily replenished, they could also be easily defeated if one knew how. Fortunately for the village, and unfortunately for the necromancer, Tharos possessed the knowledge to handle them. A key weakness of necromancers is that their undead minions rely on a direct connection to the necromancer, which can be severed by killing them, depleting their magical energy, or distracting them. The undead army would quickly crumble without this connection. Most forms of undead require constant commands and a significant amount of magical energy to sustain. However, the challenge would be reaching the necromancer, as most mages, including necromancers, tend to avoid direct combat and danger, unless they are arrogant, reckless, or have a more combat-oriented magical skill set.
We could just up and leave, but that would be rather unprofessional of me. Plus, it would be rather irresponsible to leave a necromancer unchecked.
Tharos then broke the silence with a confident tone, “I have a few ideas on what to do. It might be wise for you and your people to leave this village and move further west until this situation is resolved.”
“But what about the dangers out there? What about the harvest and trade? Many people could be put in danger or suffer if we leave. This village is the linchpin for many in the surrounding areas,” Nico said, his tone shaken, despite the wine he was drinking to steady his nerves.
“I’m afraid the danger is already here. If you and your people choose to stay here, I cannot stop you. However, please be aware that you will be putting yourselves in grave danger if you do so.”
“Will you be able to help us deal with this necromancer.”
“I will honour the contract. Dealing with a Necromancer is a challenge, but one we can manage,” Tharos acknowledged. “If you choose to defend the village, I cannot assist. Finding the Necromancer is my priority.”
“Who will help us protect the village? Most residents are not fighters like you,” Nico inquired, but Tharos interrupted, “Rayner and Cenric will remain here to aid in the village’s defence while I pursue the Necromancer. I believe there are skilled individuals here who can handle a spear or bow effectively.”
Rayner responded with a dismissive snort. “If the village had capable men, they wouldn’t have needed to hire us,” he remarked. “The kid is a better fighter than most of the men here, and he’s not even that good.”
An awkward silence followed as Nico and Rayner exchanged glances. Rayner’s wide smile hinted at his enjoyment of the potential conflict. “Show me I’m mistaken,” he challenged, his voice a low growl, his bloodshot blue eyes fixed on them both. “Well, if the great Rayner, the Crimson Wolf, says so, then it must be true,” Nico said, attempting to diffuse the tension that was palpable in the room. A cold sweat broke out on his brow as the creeping sense of bloodlust began to fill the room. Tharos, accustomed to this dynamic, decided not to address Rayner’s provocation and instead carried on with the conversation, ignoring the escalating atmosphere. “In the meantime, I suggest setting up barricades and arming your villagers with any available weapons. If the forest attack involved undead creatures, this village could be a potential target. Delaying action increases the risk of being overwhelmed.”
“Understood, I will hold a village meeting tomorrow morning to help organise and plan.”
“Good. While you take care of that, the three of us will keep watch tonight in case of another attack.”
“Do you need any help?” Nico inquired. “I’m sure there are plenty of people willing to assist you.”
“No, we will be able to handle things. In fact,” Tharos continued, “It would be better and safer if the people stayed in their homes tonight.”
“I will be sure to inform everyone,” Nico said, his tone now calm and composed, a stark contrast to his previous nervous and fearful demeanour. “Thank you, you are truly worth every silver we are paying you. Most mercenaries would have abandoned us in such dire circumstances,” he continued, showering Tharos with more compliments on his professionalism. Tharos could tell that Nico’s praise was genuine this time, not just empty flattery or an attempt to stroke his ego.
This sincere expression of gratitude was uncommon in his line of work. Despite being a newcomer, he understood that the life of a mercenary offered opportunities for adventure, wealth, and fame, appealing to those seeking freedom and independence by forging their own path through sheer will and strength. However, it also entailed risks of betrayal, challenges, and moral ambiguity, with the possibility of meeting a grim end on a forgotten battlefield or succumbing to one’s own ambition or greed. For Tharos, mercenary life was not a choice but a necessity. With his homeland and empire long gone, he found himself adrift in a world that was both strange and familiar. Surrounded by people who reminded him of his past, he saw mercenary work as the only way to achieve his goals. His skill with a blade made him a sought-after asset, and he was determined to amass the resources needed to rebuild what was lost. Time was not a concern for Tharos; he was willing to dedicate however long it took to see his plans through.
“I aim to please,” Tharos said with a slight bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my companions and I need to freshen up and rest. It has been a long day, and I want to be well-rested and alert for tonight.”
“Of course. I’ll inform you if I require further assistance,” Nico replied, gesturing for them to depart. Cenric and Rayner finished their meal, and the trio made their way upstairs to rest and strategise for the evening as the day transitioned into dusk.
