“Oi, you still here with us Firinn?”

A raspy voice called, snapping Firinn out of his anxiety-induced trance.

“Sir?” Firinn asked, a tad louder than what could be considered reasonable.

“Hehe, the poor thing is scared beyond words.” One of the many marching men said with a smile. Their way lit only by the light of the morning sun.

“I’m not scared at all.” Firinn cried, but his eyes and trembling hands told a different story.

A tall and rather handsome man then walked up to him as they marched.

“Listen, none of us will think any less of you if you go back home.” The man said, his brilliant green eyes and pitch-black hair would have made Firinn’s heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for the fact that it was beating extremely fast already.

“Sir, I signed up for this. S- so, I’m not leaving until we’ve vanquished our enemies.” Firinn declared.

The tall handsome man’s face lit up in amusement.

“Oh? You hear that fellas? Firinn here says he gonna vanish our enemies!” The man bellowed.

“I didn’t-"

“Is that so?” One of the men asked.

All of them wore lightweight leather armour with bits of metal here and there.

They all had red capes which served a purely decorative purpose.

The capes were lined with intricate golden depictions of strange scenes.

Scenes where men experienced all manner of bizarre fates.

Some sat on their knees as their minds were peeled open by an unseen force, while others-

“Hey, Firinn! Why don’t you lead us into battle, since you’re feeling so heroic?” Another soldier said.

“That’s not really necessary-"

“Go on, boy!”

“Firinn!”

“Firinn!”

“Firinn!”

The soldiers all chanted, forcing Firinn to walk in front of the fifty man group.

Each of them was armed with a rather beautiful sword and a large wooden shield.

Also, almost everyone had their hair cut short.

“Oi, Firinn-"

“That's enough teasing. Leave him be.” A firm voice said from behind as Firinn led the group west.

They were in a rather dense forest just northwest of Sùith.

Their orders were to repel the incoming invading force.

Simple orders, but Firinn found his mind dwelling on the possibility that he’d have to kill someone.

The unit eventually arrived at a clearing and on the other side of the clearing was a rather large group of armed people.

Not a small garrison of soldiers, but an entire force, ready for what could only be all-out war.

The tall, green-eyed man walked up to Firinn.

“Alright, Firinn. This is your last chance to go back home.” The man said, his eyes narrow.

Firinn took a deep breath before looking up into the man’s eyes.

“I’m staying, Socair,” Firinn said firmly.

Socair let out a low grunt before turning back and facing the rest of his soldiers.

“Listen up, this war has gone on long enough. Let’s teach those cave dwellers a lesson or two.” Socair said with the twirl of his sword.

His men then walked out into the open and it felt as though the drums of war were beating ever faster.

Firinn’s heart seemingly followed the rhythm of the drums as the two opposing forces grew closer.

Socair then took a deep breath before-

“Charge!” He yelled at the top of his lungs and thus commenced the battle.

.

..

Firinn found himself sitting on a mossy log as he held his hands in an attempt to stop their relentless quivering.

He looked around to see countless corpses.

Socair walked up to the lad before patting him on the back.

“Hey. You did good back there.” Socair said, even as blood clotted on a scar that ran across his cheek.

“I literally didn’t do anything. All I did was block and block and block.” Firinn said with a stutter.

“Hehe, your impeccable blocking skills may have saved a few lives today. Be proud.” Socair said before patting Firinn’s back again.

Socair then walked over to where the other men were, but just as he found a log to sit on a strange noise filled the air.

All of Socair’s men stood up, regardless of their conditions and faced the east, where a group of grey-clad soldiers appeared.

“Oh, come on!” One of Socair's men griped.

“Stand tall, lads! We’re going to defend this line even if it means facing a thousand more of those bloody moles.” Socair yelled.

“Hehe, if you put it like that, then forget I said anything.” The soldier replied.

Firinn joined everyone in the line and the setting sun bore witness to the following battle.

Its gentle orange light and the splashes of red on the tall grass made for rather tragic scenery.

.

..

Firinn took long and deep breaths as he scanned the land for any threats.

His brow was covered in sweat, even though his sword was clean.

He then felt something on his shoulder and so he raised his sword as he turned around, only to find a bloody Socair.

Parts of his left ear was missing and some of his teeth were missing.

“Captain!” Firinn cried as he reached out to hold his comrade, but just as his hand reached

Socair, Socair's body fell forward, revealing several arrows in his back.

“No! Captain, can you hear me?” Firinn cried as he turned Socair around.

He then looked into Socair’s green eyes only for a strange sound to distract him.

He looked to his right to find a wounded man slowly rising from the sea of bodies that was once a clear field of grass.

The man wore a despicable set of grey armour and had a bow in hand.

Firinn's eyes burnt with rage as he stood up. He tightly gripped his sword before running towards the wounded man and stabbing him in the chest.

The two fell to the ground and Firinn stabbed the man several more times before collapsing on him as he choked on his anger.

“Aaaaaaaaaahh!” Firinn screamed as his vision became clearer.

He sat up to find that there were no signs of life on the battlefield and that only he remained.

He crawled back towards Socair's body before noticing something in the western part of the forest.

He saw a small group of people with torches make their way onto the battlefield. Five of them, to be exact.

Firinn assumed a prone position and slowly crawled into a muddy hole.

The group made their way closer and Firinn watched as they murdered one of his wounded comrades.

Firinn looked at his shortsword with pure annoyance.

He then crawled towards Socair’s body and he picked up the captain's greatsword as the group inched ever closer.

One of the grey-clad men then got rather close to where Firinn was hidden and in the next moment, Firinn stood up and violently hacked at the man's neck.

Firinn’s heart then furiously kicked at his chest as he pulled his greatsword out from the man’s body.

He then dove back into the tall grass as the other grey-clad men watched their comrade fall to the ground.

Firinn remained completely silent as he hid in a pile made from the corpses of his brethren.

“What was that? Ulvis, are you ok?” A voice asked.

Firinn remained silent as the sounds of movement crept ever closer.

Then, in a moment of pure blind rage, he stood up and hacked at the nearest object.

His greatsword burrowed deep into the skull of one of his enemies and the air was then filled with horrified screams.

Firinn turned his gaze onto the three remaining objects in his vision.

He ran towards the closed one as he raised his sword, but in an act of pure instinct, Firinn threw his greatsword forward, hitting the man in the chest.

Firinn then used his shortsword to finish the man off by stabbing him in the neck.

His two remaining enemies fled as Firinn grabbed his greatsword.

He then let out a deep sigh before falling to his knees.

He remained in this position until his eyelids met and not even the coldness of the night could stave off the effects of his fatigue.

.

..

The morning arrived unpleasantly for Firinn.

He was cold, hungry and in all sorts of pain.

He slowly opened his eyes and was horrified by what the morning sunlight showed him.

A mosaic of corpses.

Firinn slowly stood up and looked himself over, revealing that he hadn’t been injured at all.

He let out a chuckle as he stumbled towards where Socair’s body was.

He knelt and closed Socair's eyes before letting out a deep sigh.

Firinn then pressed his hands together before closing his eyes.

“Oh, lord Gi' Kolarum, I have failed. I failed my brothers, I failed my home and I failed you. So… please-” Firinn stopped himself.

He slowly stood up and looked around him.

He forced his eyes to take in the image of his fallen comrades.

“I won't let you down again,” Firinn said before glaring at the eastern part of the forest.

A narrow path led into the northern parts of the land, but that wasn’t Firinn’s concern.

He ran over to the path and walked for about ten minutes before realizing that its width remained pretty narrow, up until a certain point.

Firinn followed the path for several more minutes before discovering a camp, just beyond the forest.

He kept his body low as he crept around the camp.

He spotted about twenty five people and they were all armed with swords and spears.

Firinn nodded to himself before running back to the clearing in the woods.

He grabbed a few extra pieces of armour and looted supplies from the corpses of his enemies.

He then found a spot near the western path and there he sat as he ate some dried meat he’d pilfered from the dead.

A moment passed as he ate.

His hands slowly stopped shaking and his breath grew ever hotter.

He then wiped away a tear that had run down his face.

That tear was followed by countless others and he eventually broke down into a full wail as he tightly clutched his legs.

Firinn cried until the sun was high, but his tears had long since run dry.

With a shaking hand, he grabbed his greatsword and stood up before looking at a few more corpses for supplies.

He found several things, including bags of supplies ranging from food to arrows.

Firinn grabbed a bow he found lying around and placed it on his shoulder.

He then ran to the eastern path before breaking off into a deeper part of the forest.

He had long since abandoned his shield and so his movements were quick.

Firinn then dug himself a hole in the ground and there he awaited.

Covering his hole was a pile of logs and leaves that were spread out as to not look too conspicuous.

Firinn then grabbed a few more chunks of dried meat and he ate away as he awaited the arrival of his enemies.

.

..

The setting of the evening sun cast deep shadows in the forest, but Firinn didn’t need his eyes to hear the sounds of approaching footsteps.

He tightly gripped his sword as he peered out of his hole.

He saw about five men walking down the path.

Firinn took a long and deep breath before jumping out of the hole, running down toward the path and cleaving the heads of one of his enemies.

“Ah!” Someone screamed, but Firinn swung his sword in a continued arc, removing the screamer's head from their body.

The two remaining enemies raised their swords in an attempt to kill Firinn, but Firinn kicked one of them in the chest as he dropped his greatsword.

He then grabbed his dagger and stabbed the attacker to his left in the temple before kicking the one to his right in the face.

Firinn then grabbed his greatsword before swinging it at the third attacker, who had recovered from Firinn’s kicked, only to have Firinn’s sword lodged into his chest from the left clavicle down.

Firinn let out a loud hiss as he exhaled.

His remaining enemy trembled, but just as the grey-clad man raised his arms in surrender, Firinn decapitated him.

Firinn then walked back to the clearing where he caught his breath, but that’s when an arrow whistled past him.

He stood up to find serval people emerging from the darkness.

Their eyes burnt with hatred, but Firinn didn’t care.

He tightened his grip around his sword before running towards his enemies.

.

..

Firinn stumbled backwards as he looked around for any potential survivors.

His arms trembled and had grown numb from all the swinging he had done.

He looked at himself to find that he was completely drenched in blood.

Also, a few arrows were sticking out of him.

Firinn took slow and painful breaths as each of them triggered a wave of pain.

He then walked over to where Socair’s body was.

A wave of cold overcame him and his legs gave in, forcing him onto his knees.

Firinn bit his teeth as he kept himself up using his sword.

“Captain… I did it.” Firinn said even though it pained him to speak.

“I know,” Socair said as he walked up to Firinn.

The light of the new moon illuminated his rather clean black hair.

“You did good boyo. Why don’t you take a nap? We’ll continue our march once you wake up, ok?” One of Firinn’s comrades said as more and more of them gathered around Firinn.

“No… I can still keep… going.” Firinn said as his head fell.

“Oh, you poor thing. Too exhausted to know that you’ve earned your rest.” Socair said as he placed his warm hand on Firinn’s shoulder.

The others did the same and it wasn’t long before all of Firinn’s brothers had him in their hands as a gentle wind blew by.

“Go on. Close your eyes.”

“Ok…”