“You said you were heir of the Aasim, not an inheritor!” Aymor roared as he grabbed Raylas’ shoulders and started to shake him. “Do you not know what this means?

“That I keep getting harassed,” Raylas deadpanned.

“Out of all the ignorant fools to find something of this magnitude!” Aymor spat while rubbing his temples. “Grandfather is right… you are someone who we should have left alone.”

“Sir Vodianus said that?” the Mayor whimpered.

“The girl he was with called themselves adventurers.”

“Preposterous!” Leroch harrumphed. “The guild hasn’t existed in–”

“We know!” Aymor hissed. “Yet she didn’t.”

“What did that damn girl say?” Raylas sighed. “I told her to keep a low profile. Don’t attract any attention and we can pop in and leave without any hassle. Then she goes and tells a knight I am an adventurer!”

“I wish you were just an adventurer. Instead, we have an Inheritance to deal with.” Aymor took a breath and looked out over the town.

The undead were slowly circling closer to the town walls, but a gap still remained. The goblins started to filter out from the woods as well, ringing the town with a small forest of torches. They waved them at the undead when one tried to break away and the creature backed away.

“What is an inheritance?” Raylas asked.

“The Game of Gods!” the Mayor cried out only to be smacked by Leroch.

“Get a hold of yourself, you fat bastard,” the hunter growled. “The situation is bad enough without our leader losing their head.”

“An Inheritance is something from an age long faded from memory,” Aymor said. “Not much is known about them but they are ancient and powerful, a token from when the Gods were allowed to walk the world in the flesh.”

“Gods…” Raylas pondered. “They abandoned the world, though.”

“Not abandoned but pushed out,” Aymor continued. “There are times they can peer into the world and interact with it, though. When those events occur, records almost always mention an inheritance.”

“So what does this mean for us?” Leroch demanded. “I will not just sit here and wait for the town to be slaughtered by monsters.”

“We must defeat the challenger,” Raylas murmured.

The orb always spoke of fighting, and now there was a challenger. Did he find an artifact which revolved around conflict? War and death?

What was something mercenaries were good at?

“I’ve heard enough of ya blabbin’ away with this god and gloom and doom nonsense,” Terrok grumbled. “We need a strategy to beat away the rotten ones. Goblins can get smashed, but the dead are much more dangerous.”

“Fire?” the Mayor muttered.

“By our wooden walls?” Leroch snapped. “We just as well might invite the…”

“No… fire,” the Mayor repeated pointing out at the circling horde.

Raylas looked out with the rest of the men. There was a bright light glowing from the main road, and at the center of it was a creature surrounded by a small crowd, each holding large torches. The glow was being made by numerous burning logs, each being carried by a large creature which Raylas recognized as a knoll.

Then Raylas focused on the central figure and gasped. What he saw was the goblin chief from the Fort, but there was a shadow towering behind him. An image that both appeared tangible yet also translucent as if it wasn’t fully there.

It was a scene of an older version of the goblin chief, sitting on a throne of bones and gold surrounded by monsters of every size. Ogres, knolls, hobgoblins, orcs, and many other beasts which Raylas didn’t recognize. There were humans in the scenes, but they were chained up like slaves. Most of them were missing limbs, and then Raylas realized what the monsters were eating.

A crown of precious stones was sitting on the Chief’s head and a familiar sparkling chain was wrapped around him like a cloak. Then the creature’s head turned and locked eyes with him making Raylas shudder, but there was also a spark of excitement which bloomed inside his chest.

The world seemed to fade away as the two watched each other, waiting.

“From Ialdir’s Flame shall Chaos be Purged. Blessed be the Battles of the Aasim,” Raylas quoted, remembering the writing on chain.

The spark burst into a fire, burning him from within but invigorating and filling him with energy. His aches and pains from the day seemed to fade away and the wounds from his fight disappeared. The smaller, real version of the Chief hissed some words as well and seemed to glow, a white aura surrounding him. It stood taller and smiled at Raylas, beckoning him to come to him.

The sky above them suddenly ripped and opened up like an eye. The pupil was the flaming orb peering down at the two of them, watching. In the distance Raylas saw vines rise from the forest and wrap around the trees creating a wall of thorns which nobody could escape.

The battle had truly begun.

Raylas’ trance was broken with a sudden smack in the back and he coughed as he breath was taken from him. The pains and aches from before came rushing back and he groaned, faltering and had to grip the railing to keep from falling.

“Keep yur mind ‘bout ya, boss,” Terrok huffed. “The Draught keeps ya fightin’ but if yur not careful it’ll also cause ya to collapse, and we need ya ready to fight.”

“They’re making their move,” Aymor stated.

Raylas shook his head, pushing the discomfort of his body away again and looked out at the borders again.

The goblins were starting to throw their torches into the undead horde and the flaming logs were rolled into one of the thicker masses. Bits of smoke started to rise from within the undead ranks and Raylas groaned.

Dry undead. Best strategy to kill them is to just burn them away.

Flames slowly rose and spread out. The undead were slowly catching as they were also shepherded toward the city’s walls.

“Gather as much snow as you can and draw all the water you can find,” Raylas said.

“Excuse me?” the Mayor asked.

“We need to both wet down the walls and try to moisten up the undead unless we want our main defense to become their best weapon.”

“Snow,” Leroch muttered. “Water is already being gathered, but I did not consider the snow.” He turned and shouted at the guard waiting near the stairs. “You heard the man! Every hand gather snow.”

“Every hand,” Raylas repeated. “Guard and civilian. If we want to win this we all need to participate.”

He turned and started to walk to the stairs himself, his legs shaking but feeling stronger than before. Was that the drought the dwarf gave him? Or was it the burst of energy the flame of the orb? In the end it didn’t matter since he would have to make his way to the Chief to kill him.

“Now where ya goin’?” Terrok asked.

“Where else is a warrior good at?” Raylas chuckled. “To the front lines to fight and die with ‘honor’.”

Terrok looked at him as if he went mad. Raylas paused and looked at Aymore before holding out his hand.

“The coin, please.”

Aymor arched a brow but pulled out the coin the Knight gave him and handed it over. Raylas flicked it and whispered the password.

He appeared inside the bag and tossed the coin into the growing pile of supplies he had stored way. Sir Vodianus gave him the coin, so Raylas would be damned if he wasn’t going to be the one to return it once the knight returns. Or, at minimum, it would be a nice kick in the old man’s ass to lose the coin if Raylas was going to die here from some stupid gods game.

He’ll only get a payout if Raylas survives. Such is the way of the gambler.

Not to waste anymore time, Raylas pushed himself to the stairs and uneasily made his way down to the lower floor. He felt his strength grow as he moved and by the end he felt only like he had been kicked by a horse. Perfect condition to fight an army.

Unfortunately you need something to fight an army; A weapon. Raylas rushed toward the old armory and did a quick scan. The weapons, like before, were worn down with age and in terrible condition, but they were also not much worse than some of the equipment he was used to using. Life of a mercenary was hard on the person, but harder on the equipment.

The first thing he grabbed was a new chestplate. He ripped the old one out causing a spurt of blood. The metal shard was still in his chest when Terrok’s draught started healing, so the skin closed around it. Raylas growled and took a hold of the other chestplate and put it on, ignoring the wet fabric of his tunic clinging to his skin.

The next thing he took was a short sword and hung it on his hip, as well as a few daggers. Finally, and with much disgust, he took a spear and did a few practice spins with it. It was a good weight, but the blade at the end was still far too short to be much use. Luckily, he only needed it to kill goblins and push undead away from the walls.

A perfect use for a sharp stick.

Finally re-equiped Raylas started back to leave when he paused at a shelf. It had glass covering the front and inside was a number of bottles. When he first explored the area it looked like a liquor cabinet which he planned on exploring later, but what if they were something else? Like a draught or flask of life?

He peered inside and his eyes widened. Each one was labeled as a true healing potion or even an extremely rare magic potion. There were almost ten of each, meaning he had a way to heal himself when things went bad.

He took a hold of the door and yanked it open. The lock didn’t resist and cracked open, the wood fragile from age. Raylas took two healing potions and smiled as he left for the exit.

He hadn’t been in here long, less than ten minutes. Which meant it was probably less than a second outside. The time difference between the outside of the bag and inside was hard to comprehend, but testing with Terrok in the jail proved how useful it was. He soon made it to the top floor where he set down the two potions by the rest of the pile.

He would not chance the glass breaking during a fight. One of the best offenses is to destroy an opponent's advantages while fighting, and if you can take away their healing while also giving them numerous cuts of broken glass, all the better. A nice lesson from Rolft which Raylas took to heart.

As soon as he left the world shifted and Aymor was talking.

“The undead horde is breaking up. Some of them are rushing the walls while others the woods. The fire is breaking the little control the goblin’s had.”

“The guards will discourage the undead from the walls and toward easier meals,” Leroch announced. “It is the usual strategy when we see smaller bands. Hopefully it’ll be similar with a horde.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Raylas chimed in. “Undead don’t think but act on instinct. Once the walls are on fire they’ll try to run away, but the masses behind them will keep pushing them toward us. We need to take the fight to the goblins. Thin the undead lines by growing the ring toward them.”

“Where did you get those?” the Mayor asked, staring at the spear and weapons now on Raylas.

“And how do you plan to do that?” Leroch asked, ignoring the Mayor.

“I have no idea,” Raylas admitted with a chuckle.

Leroch frowned as Terrok barked a loud laugh.

“The town is doomed,” Aymor sighed. “I see no way to defend the entire perimeter with the defenses we have. We must abandon this place.”

“Abandon! I would never–” the Mayor started.

“I’m with the brat,” Terrok interrupted. “The town will burn, but we can make a path through the ring for the townsfolk to escape.”

“And where will this hole be?” Leroch snapped. “We are surrounded by not only undead but goblins. An entire tribe of them, maybe even two!”

“Easy,” Raylas said as he pointed to the Chief. The goblin had not taken his eyes away from Raylas the entire time, watching him. “We go through there.”

The group looked out at the scene. The horde was thinnest there as many undead were crushed by the flaming logs, but the fire replaced the horde. The largest monsters also surrounded the chief meaning they would have a tough battle to fight if they were to escape.

But it was where Raylas had to go. It was where his mind itched to go, and he trusted that itch.

“You’re insane,” The Mayor whined, followed by an agreement by Leroch. Aymor scratched his chin for a few moments before shrugging his shoulders.

“The water and snow gathered can be used to smother a path through the fire. Guards distract the monsters while the civilians flee toward Gloomcrest.”

“Then you are telling us to die?” Leroch spat.

“I’m telling you to do your job and protect the people,” Aymor retorted. “Or are guards only gatekeepers?”

“We are no cowards,” Leroch snapped. “But to ask them to die is–”

“We either die hiding in town or fighting to save their friends and families,” Raylas said. “How would you rather go?”

Leroch clamped his mouth shut and glared at both of them. He then marched toward the stairs and yelled at the nearest guard as he left the tower.

“You heard those bastards. Gather some more damn snow and get your asses armed.”

“Think we can make it?” Terrok asked.

“I think we’re going to meet the gods earlier than expected,” Aymor sighed.

“Wishing for an act of god?” Raylas chuckled. “I didn’t take you for the religious type.”

“Shut up, bastard.” Aymor shook his head and also left, grabbing the arm of the Mayor and dragging him along despite his protest.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a fun evening,” Terrok snickered.

“It’ll be a party,” Raylas agreed. “So why wait? Lets go wreck it.”