Dark Age Year 871
Twentieth day of the Third month
When Tharos first arrived in the village of Golden Apple, he only planned to stay for the night before continuing on to the city of Sanctus, the former capital of the now-defunct Invictis Empire. The city and its surrounding regions were the main focus of the civil war he had been hearing about. He wanted to witness the situation first-hand and hoped Sanctus could provide answers to his questions about the world’s current state. However, he was surprised by the impact the simple village had on him. While not considering himself greedy, the offer of money, food, drink, and a place to sleep was tempting. Engaging in mercenary work was oddly satisfying, a departure from his past diplomatic missions and studies for the empire. It had been a long time since he enjoyed a proper meal, not just scavenged rations. The taste of fresh food and water was a sensation he had missed and now appreciated intensely. These experiences were no longer distant memories but tangible moments he could savoir in the present.
The practical reasons for staying in the village, aside from monetary compensation and shelter, were the valuable information provided by the villagers about the surrounding areas. Spending time with the people of Golden Apple also offered him more opportunities to learn the language of the Invicti and the Wilder, along with the few new Lingua franca languages that had developed in the intervening years. He quickly mastered the basics of these languages in just a few months. Compared to the other languages he knew, these tongues were relatively simple and somewhat primitive, he thought. In fact, most, if not all, of the people he encountered seemed somewhat primitive to him, compared to what he was used to. However, labelling them as “primitive” was an oversimplification of the broader issues. By all standards, most of the people in Golden Apple lived simple and content lives, similar to many in his time. It touched his heart to realize that the concerns and challenges that affected his people were also present among these villagers. This shared experience provided a connection that Tharos needed, as it had been a long time since he had felt the warmth of human connection, a feeling that now seemed almost foreign to his ever-beating heart.
If he were to be precise about the reasons why he thought they were primitive to him, it wasn’t because of the civil war or people giving in to their worst impulses. What bothered him the most was the loss of knowledge and technology. These people were ignorant, not just about the wider world around them, but ignorant of what they had lost. What Tharos considered commonplace, these people had no clue about. Even the more enlightened minds, the ones he would often sift through as he read their tomes and scrolls, greedily consuming every fragment and scrap of knowledge he could find, didn’t have all the answers to questions that even a simple child knew in his time. The only silver lining was that not everything was truly lost, at least as far as technology went. For example, ice boxes and basic plumbing were still a thing, along with other modernities from his era. Of course, it was more common in the cities than in the frontier regions, according to what he had been told and see so far. But this information gave him some sense of joy that at least the infrastructure of what his people once built was still there.
It is better to keep the candle of knowledge and wisdom burning brightly in the darkest of rooms than to let it be extinguished by the darkness of ignorance. Lost in his thoughts, Tharos was jolted back to reality by Rayner’s voice, prompting him to raise his head and meet his gaze.
“Oi Tharos, I found a fresh trail,” Rayner exclaimed, flashing a wide, toothy grin. His piercing blue eyes glinted with the shine of the raging fire.
“How many?” Tharos could only detect faint traces, unable to determine the exact number of people present, but he sensed a significant group. Rayner’s nose twitched as he inhaled the spring air, as if searching for a scent of their latest target on the breeze.
“About fifteen to twenty of them. Nothing we can’t handle,” he said with a dismissive snort.
“How far?” he asked.
“About a mile out, I reckon.”
“That’s pretty close to the village. Let’s handle this swiftly and quietly. Rayner, make sure none of them escape this time. We can’t afford any mistakes.”
“Oi Who do you think you’re talking to? I am a professional. The art of combat and war is my passion. My axe is my most trusted tool, and the fallen enemies at my feet are proof of this,” Rayner proclaimed boldly.
He gave a small smile. “I’m not questioning your skill of arms Rayner, but I’m concerned that your current condition might be affecting your performance, especially since it’s almost that time of the month.”
Rayner halted his steps and pivoted his entire body to face Tharos, locking eyes with him. Tharos could sense the intensity of Rayner’s gaze, which seemed to pierce through his skull. He observed Rayner’s face turning a bright red, and his teeth starting to clench, revealing his elongated canines that gleamed in the spring light.
“How did you find that out?”
Tharos could feel the anger now simmering within Rayner, not aimed at him specifically, but rather an outward manifestation of the deep-seated fury Rayner harboured towards the world and those who incurred his wrath.
“If you know what you’re looking for, it’s not hard to figure out who you truly are, Rayner. Subtlety has never been your strong suit. But I won’t judge, as I’m not entirely normal myself, if such a thing exists in our world.”
Tharos could still sense Rayner’s intense rage, prompting him to consider using his charm and wit. “Don’t worry, Rayner, your secret is safe with us. Just make sure to take necessary precautions. We wouldn’t want you to harm yourself or lose control.” He could see Rayner face start to loosen up and start going from red to a lighter shade of red-ish pink.
“Does the whelp know as well?” Rayner inquired.
“No, but he has his suspicions. I believe he’s keeping it to himself. He’s quite clever, smarter than either of us realise,” Tharos replied.
Rayner gave him a dismissive snort. “If only his brains were as sharp as his sword-arm.”
“It will come in time. He’s only fourteen, but he’s progressing quickly. He will make a fine warrior or pursue any path he chooses.”
“I don’t understand why you don’t let him join us in all the fun. When I was his age, I had already fought in several battles. By holding him back, you’re just dulling his instincts, and we both know what happens when you get soft on the battlefield.”
“I only wish to show him that there is more to life than the next battle, but I will concede the point that perhaps I have been a bit too gentle when it comes to his training. It may be time to take off the kid gloves,”
Tharos reflected. He acknowledged that war and conflict were inherent to human nature, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to stop it. However, he felt it would be cruel to deny Cenric the endless possibilities that life could still provide for him. Cenric was still young, unlike himself, a person who had lived far beyond his allotted time, now nothing more than a faint ember, a ghost of what he once was.
Tharos could see Rayner face start to soften “I am glad you are starting to see things my way. Perhaps you’re not the milk drinker I thought you were.”
“Oh, am I starting to grow on you? Maybe you’re beginning to appreciate that I spared your life,” he declared with a confident and sarcastic tone.
Rayner snarled, then chuckled heartily. “Don’t test your luck. One day we will have a rematch, Tharos, and determine who is the superior in the skill of arms.”
“I eagerly await that day, Rayner.” Tharos could feel a small but warm smile started to form on his lips.
To feel the warmth of interaction again, i missed this feeling.
Rayner and Tharos initially had a rocky start to their relationship but eventually found common ground. Despite some lingering tension, which was evident to outsiders, Tharos noticed Rayner’s growing fondness for him and Cenric, despite the playful nicknames. Rayner’s teasing was laced with affection, his way of expressing his emotions. After their discussion, they continued tracking what they thought were bandits, only to realise they were actually a small group of weary travellers. The group, mostly women and children, was accompanied by a few men armed with clubs and other weapons. The travellers looked dishevelled and exhausted from their journey. As Tharos scanned the crowd, he even noticed lice in their hair when he squinted.
I am going to need a nice warm bath after this.
“Where are you all headed and where did you come from?” Tharos asked politely, addressing the old man leading the group of travellers. The travellers seemed apprehensive, and Tharos sensed a palpable air of tension and fear surrounding them, particularly directed towards Rayner. Rayner stood behind Tharos like a guard dog, his large frame and massive axe overshadowing both Tharos and the group of travellers.
“Oh, we are heading west to another village a few miles from here. We are from a village about twenty to twenty-five miles east of Golden Apple,” the old man said after a brief pause, calculating the distance in his head. Tharos scrutinised the group more closely. He couldn’t detect anything suspicious about them, but the idea of travelling such a distance with women and children struck him as unusual.
Something isn’t quite right.
“Is there a specific reason for such a lengthy journey? If you don’t mind me asking.” Tharos asked.
“Yes, there have been unusual events in our village and neighbouring settlements of late,” the man explained.
Tharos was surprised as the village elder had not mentioned any incidents occurring to the east of Golden Apple. The information he had received was mainly about events in the west.
“What kind of strange occurrences have been happening, if you don’t mind sharing?” Tharos inquired.
“Well, I don’t know all the details myself, but they are quite frightening,” the old man replied, pausing as if trying to gather his thoughts. This only piqued Tharos’s interest even more. “First, it started with sightings of strange creatures with bone and twisted flesh, then tales of sudden deaths of people, animals, and crops, and then… stories of.” The old man stopped speaking, and Tharos noticed tears welling up in his eyes.
“Stories of people who had died walking about.” The man continued, explaining how his village was starting to suffer the same fate that had befallen other villages in the area, and how the group travelling before them were the only survivors left from his village. This information was quite concerning if it was true. Tharos knew that people in such remote areas often let superstition and fear dominate their thinking, exaggerating and blowing things out of proportion. However, he didn’t think this was the case in this instance.
If this is true, it sounds like the work of a necromancer or perhaps something worse.
“Have you shared this information with anyone else?” Tharos inquired, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head slightly.
“Yes, we sent a few people to Golden Apple and to other nearby villages before we left to spread the news. Unfortunately, none of them returned to us,” one of the travellers replied.
“I understand,” Tharos nodded, scanning the group once more. “You are all free to go. Have a wonderful day.” Tharos then turned to Rayner, signalling for him to follow. As they walked away from the travellers, the sense of fear and tension that Tharos had detected began to dissipate as the group disappeared into the distance. They continued their patrol.
Tharos turned to Rayner and asked, “What do you think?”
Rayner shook his head and snorted dismissively, his long crimson hair swaying with the motion. “In my opinion, it’s just a collection of old wives’ tales from a bunch of weaklings and cowards.”
Tharos nodded in partial agreement with Rayner’s straightforward evaluation.
“What if it’s more than just their fear of shadows? What if what they’re saying is true?” Tharos inquired, sensing the answer but seeking confirmation from Rayner.
“Then it could be a worthwhile challenge, unlike the feeble opponents we’ve faced recently,” Rayner declared with a grin, his sharp canines on display.
“We must inform Nico and the villagers when we return about this.”
Rayner rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t bother with that if I were you.”
“Why not?” Tharos inquired.
“Simple, you saw the panic in those people’s eyes. If the residents of Golden Apple pack up and leave, we’ll be out of a job.”
Tharos crossed his arms. “I thought you were already getting bored with this job, and wanted to move onto greener pastures.”
Rayner chuckled throatily. “Not at all.”
“Well, we should inform Nico about the situation. Dealing with a necromancer on the loose is always troublesome.”
Upon hearing the term “necromancer,” Tharos noticed Rayner spitting on the ground next to him. “More mages, and this time they’re bait for the crows.”
“Have you ever faced a necromancer before, Rayner?” Tharos inquired.
“Unfortunately, no, but it doesn’t matter. They will feel the bite of my axe and meet their end all the same.”
“I thought you had encountered various types of mages. I recall you saying, ‘Killing mages is a speciality of mine, one that I take great pleasure in,’” Tharos mimicked Rayner’s voice poorly.
Rayner chuckled before replying, “So, are we going to wait around while you contemplate your plan of attack until the necromancer appears, or will we take action?”
“We will be proactive, Rayner. We will investigate promptly. Tomorrow at dawn, we will set out to look into this. We’ll also bring Cenric along; it will be good training for him.”
“I am glad you’re starting to see things my way.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But if these stories are accurate, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
Tharos couldn’t be certain of what awaited them, but if the old man’s tales held any truth, he suspected a necromancer might be involved. The sightings of strange creatures, sudden deaths, and resurrected individuals pointed to necromancy. Tharos had studied the subject extensively and encountered necromancers before. If this was the case, the village of Golden Apple and its surrounding settlements were in grave danger. While Tharos typically preferred a cautious approach with a well-thought-out plan, the events in Zarbar were a reminder of the urgent circumstances sometimes required urgent action. Unchecked, a necromancer could cause widespread death and destruction, and Aria already had enough of that. After their patrol, Tharos and Rayner would return to Golden Apple to strategise their next steps.
