Loïck looked at Rufus, the knight he had previously met at the betting tournament. He was completely immersed in their game, his brows thoughtfully frowning. They were both sitting on crude stools with a small and even cruder table between them. On the round table, there was a chess board, a fine artefact which seemed out of place in these poor conditions.

Loïck didn’t complain though, he would rather be in these primitive huts inside of the fort than outside, where the snow had been piling up for weeks. Their supplies had been supposed to arrive days ago, but where delayed by the harsh storms and the thick layer of snow which covered the landscape.

Rufus slowly and hesitantly moved a peasant forward, unknowingly creating a gap in his defences, which Loïck quickly exploited with his archer. Rufus grunted with disappointment.

“Damn, why didn’t I see that?” He grumbled. Loïck looked at him, enjoying every second of this one-sided game. Even all of the world’s luck wouldn’t help Rufus in a chess game.

He was really grateful for this set, which they had found in Sir David’s possessions, after he had perished in the battle. Nearly half of their company had ended dead or heavily wounded that day.

Since then, there hadn’t been any sign of the enemy and they had tried to build up the fort a little, filling the murder holes the northerners had dug and reinforcing the wooden wall.

The door to their house suddenly flung open, and a man carrying a sack entered, while a lad quickly went up and pushed the door close again. Cold air had been pouring in.

The man let the sack drop on the ground and straightened his back.

“Here’s food. The supply caravan just arrived.” The said caravan had been delayed for almost half a week, but was finally there. “Oh, and I have a letter, for... Loïck?” He looked up, scanning the room.

“That’s me.” The man handed over the letter to him. Loïck immediately opened it, ignoring Rufus pleas to finish the game first.

As he suspected, it was from Rose. She explained to him that she was staying in an inn named the Sunflower, and that she had spent a little money on them to stay. Her writing had improved tremendously. She had been careful to add the smallest of details meticulously. It must have taken her hours, he thought with amusement.

“It’s your turn.” Rufus remarked. Loïck took a quick look at the board and moved. Rufus was only a beginner, he never stood a chance against him, who had played with both his brother and friends his whole childhood.

He was disappointed he hadn’t gotten a single letter from his squire. No news from Nicolaus, meant that his father had probably refused his request. To think his squire hadn’t even bothered sending a letter. That bastard was probably enjoying the comfort of the castle while he was rotting up here. He suddenly felt much less guilty for breaking his arm.

The door opened again, and a new man entered the hut, again letting a cold and freezing wind inside before he closed the door.

“Loïck!” He called out.

“Who asks?” He said in return. He had heard the voice somewhere, but couldn’t quite put his finger on where.

“It’s me, Merrill.” The man said as he took his hood off. He was clothed heavily in skins and wool, a must when going out there. “Sir Harald has given us a job.” He said as he approached. Harald was the new commander of their company, as Rorik had died. They had found him in the aftermath of the battle, with an arrow through the throat.

Loïck frowned. “What kind of job could we possibly do, without venturing outside?” He said while leaning back against the wall. “Surely he’s not dumb enough to order us to go outside, Right?”

“There has been a deserter.” Merrill said, ignoring his provocations. That was unlike him, Loïck thought. “We have to go after him, before the traces disappears.”

“Seriously? The guy’s going to die anyway. Why the fuck should we risk our lives to bring a dead man back?” Loïck asked, exasperated.

“Orders are orders.” Merrill said flatly. “Take your gear, we’re leaving as soon as you’re ready.”

Loïck grunted, he itched to ask why he had had to out there, instead of someone else... Merrill did come specifically looking for him. But that would be unappreciated by the others. It would seem like he was trying to dump it on them. “What if we can’t catch him today? Don’t tell me we’re going to sleep out there...”

“We won’t have to, as we will find him before.”

Loïck sighed, but nevertheless prepared himself to brave the merciless winter. Luckily it wasn’t as bad as he had thought, the snow only lightly falling with quite some wind however.

They marched out of the fort, Loïck following Merrill. He was covered in thick clothes, with his chainmail underneath. He didn’t trust the layers of skin and wool to stop arrows from piercing his body. Not that he expected to be attacked, as the northerners had been absent from the area.

Or so they thought at least. You could never be sure with these savages, as they had already experienced once the hard way. He had brought a long spear too, as to test the ground before him. Sometimes, you could encounter an exceptionally deep place in the snow. As of now, they were only sinking down in the snow halfway up their shins, but it still made it that much harder to advance.

It felt like a couple of hours had passed, but it was probably less. They had even begun to climb a smaller mountain, and he was beginning to get seriously tired. . How far away was the deserter? They wouldn’t have time to return if they continued too far.

Then the snow began to fall, and he saw dark clouds assembling the horizon behind them, covering the landscape in darkness “Oh shit...” He muttered. “Merrill! Let’s stop this idiocy and get back! Now!” He shouted.

“You’re right. Let’s end this farce.” It surprised Loïck that he agreed so easily, but he didn’t bother question him. He was just relieved that they could begin hurrying back.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a sword being drawn. He immediately threw himself forward, half expecting a savage appearing behind him. But no, it was Merrill, who had dropped his spear into the snow and drawn his sword.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Loïck said as he stood up with difficulty, his hand and feet sinking deep into the snow. He nevertheless kept the spear pointed at Merrill the whole time.

The knight didn’t respond, and cautiously took a step forward. In response Loïck took a step back, fear coursing through his stomach. For some reason, Merrill was after him.

“Let’s talk about this! I’m sorry, if I have offended you somehow!” He said, as he took another step back, trying to put some distance between them.

“It’s an order from higher ups. You can’t talk your way out of this. Your only chance is to fight! If you win, you’ll go free.” Merril said, taking another heavy step forward that sunk down into the snow. The wind and snowfall was getting stronger by the minute.

Loïck used his spear’s longer range to try to hold the veteran knight away. He thrust at Merrill a few times to no avail, he simply deviated hacked the spear point away.

Loïck shifted his grip on the spear and then threw it at him, giving him time to draw his sword, which he was much more familiar with. Merrill easily predicted it and deflected the projectile with his sword. He took another step forward, trying to close the distance.

Instead of retreating any further, Loïck advanced and met him, swinging his sword with every ounce of power he could muster.

They blades met, first crossing and then clashing together. They had nothing apart from skins to protect the arms and legs, while the head was completely vulnerable, so they paid extra attention to defend themselves.

It quickly became clear that Merrill was more experienced while his blows carried more weight and power behind. Loïck was a little quicker however, but Merrill’s ability to seemingly predict his every slash and thrust made the fight turn in his favour.

Loïck desperately tried to hold up his defence against the onslaught of blows that came his way, almost not bothering with attacking. He was being driven back, as he had to narrowly step out of range of some blows he couldn’t parry.

Merrill’s sword suddenly slipped past his guard and slashed towards his head. Loïck immediately threw himself back, but his feet couldn’t keep up and he landed softly in the snow. Merril immediately descended on him, lifting his sword over his head. In a desperate attempt, Loïck threw his sword at him while he swung down.

Loïck screamed in pain as the blade buried itself in his shoulder, slightly missing his head. Merrill’s sword had been taken of course when he dodged the sword throw.

Through a blur of pain Loïck saw the sword lifting up again, so he acted without thinking and kicked the man as hard as he could. Right in the crotch. Merrill grunted and stopped dead in his attack. Loïck kicked him again and Merril took a step away, trying to protect his groin while taking a wild swing which missed.

“You dishonourable scum...!” He muttered with scorn, his face grimacing in agony.

Loïck painfully pulled himself up and began running away, as best as he could in this snow storm.

Merrill tried to pursue him, but wasn’t fast enough to catch up with him... It didn’t take long before Merrill disappeared in the snowstorm behind him, but Loïck still continued to run. He stumbled and fell, but rose up again and ran, fuelled by adrenaline and desperation.

He only stopped when he was completely exhausted and out of breath, painstakingly feeling the wound in his shoulder as his left arm hanged uselessly at his side.

He couldn’t feel his limps anymore when he saw the cave. barely believing his luck, he continued with renewed strength and hope.

He soon reached the cave, and immediately felt the change. The freezing wind was almost gone, and he got a little rest for his exhausted body. After having rested a bit, he decided to go deeper into the cave, farer from the cold air currents coming from outside.

The cave was dark, and he couldn’t see much when he reached the bottom of the cave. Smaller than he thought, but he was also relieved that he was alone in it. You never knew. But just as he sunk down against the wall, a frightening sight greeted him.

He let out a shocked yelp when he saw a human corpse at arm’s length, but quickly calmed himself down. It was only a half rotten dead body, though it had a strange black symbol engraved in its forehead. Why should he be scared of a dead person?

A wave of agony rolled through him, making him painfully aware of the gaping wound in his shoulder. He grunted, carefully taking a look. It looked bad. He didn’t seem to be able to move his left arm. He let his head fall back against the cave wall with a sigh.

Loïck took a layer of wool off and tied it tightly around his shoulder, hoping that it would suffice for now.

Why had somebody tried to kill him? It made no sense. Sure, he was aware that he had sometimes been slightly disrespectful, but what kind of psychopath murders for that?

Merrill had said that he was ordered to do so. The only man who could give orders to Merrill was Harald, the new commander. But their relation was strictly limited to commander and subordinate. That meant it came from someone else, someone who had enough power to order Harald to get him killed.

He shook his head. It was no use thinking of that now, he would have to figure it out later. He mumbled a few obscenities; the pain only seemed to get worse as he regained the feeling in his limbs. Suddenly he heard a creaking from his right, and abruptly turned his head, scanning his surroundings. He didn’t notice anything new though.

But the creaking continued, and he suddenly understood where it came from. The corpse. Petrified, he stared with his eyes widened in silent horror, as the creaking skull slowly turned its rotten face towards him. There seemed to be an unnatural darkness hidden inside its otherwise empty eye holes. He suddenly came to his senses when it grabbed his right hand’s wrist with a powerful grip.

Loïck violently shook and pulled at his arm, all for naught. He began screaming with pain as he felt its bony hand frying through the clothes and burning his wrist, causing smoke to arise. The skull’s few rotten features rose in a cruel smile.

Then he felt a warmth spread through his arm and to his body, expulsing the cold that had been ever-present since he had come north.

It was gone as suddenly as it came, and the corpse’s grip weakened. He immediately stumbled away from it, full of terror as he ran out of the cave. A hoarse and deep laugh accompanied him, and he wasn’t able to tell if it was only present in his mind or if it was reverberating through the mountain itself.

In this terrified state, Loïck chose to run out in the snowstorm rather than stay in that cave where the dead seemed to be alive.