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. When they finally arrived back in Golden Apple by late afternoon, cold, wet, and stained with mud, they were quickly informed by one of the villagers that Nico was waiting for them in his house. The villager in question looked nervous and tense. As they all made their way to the house, there was a slight tension in the air. However, this tension they felt wasn’t directed at them; quite the opposite. When they showed up, some of the tension eased, as if their presence alone was enough to dispel whatever was causing this sense of dread. This fear was different. It was not the type of fear one gets when scared by something, that sudden rush of fear that runs up your spine as adrenaline courses through your bloodstream, giving you the power to fight or flee from what has frightened you. Nor was it the type of fear that would chill you to the bones and make your blood run like ice. It was the type of fear one gets from the possibility of something very bad happening, just over the horizon. A lingering fear that would eat away at the hearts and minds of those who felt it, stripping even the most rational person to their most basic instincts. It could turn the once civil animal that was the human race into a flailing and fear-ridden wild animal, devoid of the spark of sentience.
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 nervous and faint.
“Yes, our investigation was quite fruitful, but before we delve into any details, i would like to ask what’s the matter? You seem rather flustered,” Nico poured himself some wine and offered Tharos, Rayner, and Cedric a glass if they wished. However, only Tharos accepted the offer, while Cedric and Rayner were too preoccupied with their meal to pay attention, busy stuffing their faces with bread and soup.
As Nico took a sip of wine and a deep breath, a sad, almost mournful look appeared in his eyes. “There was an attack. Some villagers were attacked by something while they were out gathering berries in the woods. And…” Nico was about to continue, but Tharos stopped him, raising his hand signalling him to pause.
“Are there any survivors?” Tharos asked in a clear tone of voice.
“Just the one,” Nico said in a sad and regretful tone. “However, he is quite badly hurt, and we are not sure if he will survive the night.”
“Did you manage to get a description of what attacked them?” Tharos had a few ideas of a possible culprit, but it didn’t hurt to get confirmation for what he already expected to be the case.
“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 straightened himself up and leaned in, as if to emphasise the seriousness of what he was about to say. “During our investigation, we discovered evidence that this is the work of a necromancer. I am afraid that my suspicions proved correct.” He saw Nico’s eyes widen, his face turning even more ashen, as the blood that filled his chubby face flushed out of his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “What do you suggest we do, Master Tharos?”
At that moment, several ideas flashed into his mind about what to do. The safest option he could come up with was for the people of the village to evacuate the immediate area, at least until the necromancer was dealt with. While this was the safest choice in the long term, it might lead to unintended consequences in the short term, not only for the villagers but also for the surrounding area. Another option was to rally the villagers and have them stay and fight to defend their home. If not for themselves, then at least to slow down the undead horde until Tharos could track down the necromancer. However, that would put many of their lives at risk, and there was no guarantee that the village, even with their help, wouldn’t be overrun by the legions of undead creatures under the necromancer’s command. Considering that such periods of war and strife, one that Aria was currently going through right now, was a breeding ground for such dark magic. The other option, a more selfish one, was just for all three of them to leave. Even with a local necromancer running wild, it was an issue that could be easily dealt with. Most necromancers were only able to handle small armies of undead numbering at least a few hundred. While such armies could be easily replenished, they could also be dealt with just as easily if one knew how. Fortunately for this town and unfortunately for this necromancer, Tharos knew how to deal with them. One of the main weaknesses of a necromancer is that if their connection with their undead minions is broken by them being killed, running out of magical energy, or just being distracted, the undead army would crumble quickly. Most forms of undead require direct commands from the necromancer along with a large amount of magical energy to maintain. However, reaching the necromancer would be the hard part, as most necromancers, well, mages in general, were not the types of people who would fight on the frontlines of a battle or put themselves in direct danger, unless they were arrogant, foolish, or perhaps their skill set in magic was more martial in nature.
“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 thought to himself. With that thought, Tharos spoke up after several moments of silence. Speaking up, his tone certain “Well, I have a few ideas of what to do. But for you and your people, it might be prudent to vacate this village and head further west until this situation has been 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 how much wine he was drinking to steady and calm his nerves.
“I am afraid the danger is already here, if you and your people wish to stay here i cannot stop you. However keep in mind. That you will be putting you and your people in uneasy danger if you do so.”
“Will you be able to help us deal with this necromancer threat.”
“I will abide by the contract. A Necromancer, while a dangerous foe, is one that we can handle,” Tharos admitted. “However, if you wish to stay and defend this village, then I can’t help you with that. Tracking down the Necromancer will be my top priority.”
“But who will help us defend the village? Most of the people here are not warriors like yourself,” Nico began, but before he could continue, Tharos cut him off. “Rayner and Cenric will stay here to assist with the defence of the village. while I track down this necromancer. I am confident that this village has plenty of capable men who can wield a spear or shoot arrows in the right direction.”
This, however, sparked a dismissive snort from Rayner. “If they had capable men in Tharos, they wouldn’t have hired us in the first place,” Rayner interjected. “Heck, the kid is a better fighter than most of the men in this village, and he’s not even that good himself.”
There was an awkward pause for a moment as both Nico and Rayner turned to look at each other. Rayner gave a wide smile as if he enjoyed this moment of possible conflict. “Prove to me that I am wrong,” he said, his voice a low growl as he stared at both of them with his piercing blue eyes, which were now bloodshot.
“Well, if the great Rayner, the Crimson Wolf, says so, then it must be true,” Nico said, trying to break the tension, as a cold sweat broke out upon his brow as the creeping sense of bloodlust started to fill the room. Tharos decided not to raise the issue as he and Cenric were used to this. He continued with the conversation, choosing not to respond to Rayner’s provocation.
“In the meantime, I recommend setting up barricades and arming your people with whatever weapons are available. If the attack in the forest involved undead creatures, this village may become a target soon. The longer we wait, the greater the risk of being overrun.”
“Understood, I will convene a village meeting tomorrow in the morning to help organise and plan.”
“Good. While you handle that, the three of us will keep watch for the night in case of another attack.”
“Do you require any assistance?” Nico asked. “I’m sure there are many people who would be happy to help 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, this night.”
“I will make sure to tell everyone,” Nico said, his tone now calm and measured instead of the nervous and fearful tone he had before. “Thank you, you are clearly worth every silver we are paying you. Most mercenaries such as yourselves would have left by now under such dire circumstances,” he continued, laying down more compliments on Tharos’ professionalism. Tharos could sense that, unlike other times, Nico had played nice for the sake of politeness or trying to appease his ego with pointless compliments. This was a genuine thanks, which was rather rare in this line of work. Although he was new to this line of work, he knew that the life of a mercenary, a life that could be full of adventure, wealth, and fame, was to many a path of freedom and liberty, carving out your own path by your will and strength of arms alone. But also a life of betrayal, hardships, and questionable ethics, it was a path that could see you easily die in a ditch somewhere on some lost forgotten battlefield or be felled by the blade of your own ambition or greed. For Tharos, it was none of those things. It was a means to an end. He had no home to call his own, as his people and the empire he served with fateful devotion and great diligence were now swept away by the endless tides of history. This gave birth to a world that was as alien to him as it was familiar, travelling with people who reminded him of what he once had and lost. For him, the life of a mercenary was the only path he could take to achieve his goals. His skill with the blade was in high demand, a demand that Tharos was willing to fulfil. His future plans required money, contacts, and a solid foundation to build upon. This was what was required, and he didn’t care or mind if it took days, weeks, months, or even years. He had endless time as far as he was concerned.
“I aim to please,” Tharos says with a slight bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my companions and I need to wash up and rest. It has been a long day, and I would like to be well-rested and alert for tonight.”
“That’s fine. I will let you know if I need your help with anything else,” Nico said, gesturing politely for them to leave.
As Cenric and Rayner finished eating, all three of them turned to leave and headed up the stairs to rest and discuss their plans for the evening as day turned to dusk.
