The weary Watchers sat outside the medical tent in the Northern Shore camp. Essie assisted the surgeons dealing with Trek’s egregious chest wound.

As they carried him on a makeshift stretcher made of boiled leather belts, his clothes began to soak through from hemorrhaging. Despite Essie’s best efforts and determination to save her sibling, she knew Alanna wanted him more.

“I swear to Father…” A distraught Rulan started, mumbling under his breath just loud enough for Wiccer to hear, “…if he dies, it will be on your head.” He rose from the log he was seated on and turned to face the two leaders.

Blayvaar rested a gentle hand on Rulan’s shoulder, “It was a Rabbit arrow that hit Trek, not Wiccer’s blade,” he said, attempting to calm his friend.

Rulan turned to respond to Blayvaar but the sight of Essie emerging from the medical tent caught his attention. Her apron was drenched in blood and her hands were shivering uncontrollably as she wiped them clean with a rag. Her teeth were clenched and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Tr-Tr–” she stuttered trying to overcome the pain that wrung her like a wet towel.

Rulan did not let her finish. He knew the truth even before she spoke. But it was not the loss of Trek alone that sent him into a spiraling rage on the inside. His anger was pointed directly at Wiccer and his incompetence as a leader on the battlefield.

Rulan charged Wiccer. He grabbed him by his red cloak and brought him close to his face. Rulan’s eyes were red with tears and anger, “You! You did this! You did this to Trek! Your hands are covered in his blood!”

Wiccer was silent.

“You refused to listen to Elucard and then vanished when we were ambushed.”

Wiccer continued with his silence.

Rulan pushed his captain, sending him stumbling backwards, “Say something! Answer for yourself!”

What could Wiccer say in his own defense? He agreed with Rulan wholeheartedly. He had failed his men once again. He was their captain, charged by their country to lead them to success and to protect them with erudite leadership. He accomplished neither in his eyes. His father was a fool to think he was ready to be a leader of men. Wiccer was even more foolish to have believed such a thing. Now Trek was dead and it was on his hands.

“Have you nothing to say?” Rulan shouted again.

“Stand down, private,” a voice called out.

Wiccer looked behind him to see Elucard. Rulan gawked teary eyed and hot-faced.

“The Black Rabbits played us all. Something we should have expected. They are masters of manipulation. They’ve been training for years to deal with any form of threat to their ways.”

“Then what was the point of all our training? If we can’t beat them, why try?” Rulan spat, now angrier than ever.

“We are at war with the Black Rabbit clan. When you go to war with someone you must expect battles and defeats. Do not let a single defeat deter you from pursuing vengeance. They have trained for years, you have trained for months. Right now we have the taste of our own blood on our tongue, but not for long. Retribution will be ours!”

Rulan narrowed his eyes. A thin smirk appeared on his face. He continued to listen, swayed by the bloodlust in Elucard’s words.

“We are not Koda’s shield. We do not protect him from the Rabbits. We are not his sword. We do not fight along side him. We are his dagger. We hunt in the shadows, dealing sinister blows to the enemies that his soldiers can not see.” Elucard moved his sight from battered man to battered man. He finally rested his gaze on Wiccer, who was paying close mind to Elucard’s words. Wiccer had forgotten what he was transforming into. He had forgotten that he was no longer a White Cloak, “We are rogues who hunt rogues. We are the shadows that guard the light. We are the Watchers! Never forget that!”

A cheer erupted from his men. Wiccer nodded in approval to Elucard.

“We have a long march ahead of us, but before we head out, we must see to Trek’s final walk to Alanna’s embrace,” Elucard said as he wrapped an arm around Rulan’s shoulders.

***

Gathered around a shallow grave just beyond the dunes of the beach, The ARO members surrounded Trek’s final resting place. A short tower of stones served as a grave marker. The rocks were smoothed from a small stream that washed out into the ocean.

Timber knelt down and placed an arrow shaft wrapped in wild flowers from a nearby field, “Alanna will train you to become her archer. Here is your first arrow, Trek. Use it well.”

Elisa placed a silver coin on top of his grave, “Show your respects to Alanna. Give this trit to to her as a gift.”

Lear unsheathed his rapier. It was his personal blade. He had been unsatisfied with the ninjato Elucard tried to assign him. He leaned it against the grave marker, “Take this with you. It will serve you better than any blade you will find in the Roaming Plane.”

Blayvaar produced a small piece of black root with dark green stripes running around it. He dug a small pocket in the loose dirt of the grave and buried the root in it, “Blissroot, my friend. Illegal in Long Whisper, but you are in Long whisper no more,” he stifled a smile as he chewed on a bit of blissroot of his own.

Essie took a knife and cut her hand and passed the knife to Rulan. Together they dripped their blood unto their brother’s grave.

“Trek…” Rulan tried to speak, but lowered his head unable to finish.

“Trek, we are triplets. Forever bound like no other. Take a part of us with you and we will be with you for eternity.” Essie’s gentle voice warmed the hearts of her comrades.

Wiccer took out one of his daggers and thrust it hard into the dirt. He stood back up straight and gave a long salute, “You died a hero. No one could argue that. At ease, soldier.”

Elucard bent down and took a small handful of dirt and trickled it back unto the grave. A small drift of wind caught it as it danced away in the breeze, “Mera nahv alanoon shen Dalm’na.”

Not all shadows are meant to be feared.