Dusk came on another day. The rain hadn’t relented, still crashing onto the roof of the keep loudly. Inside, a fire lit the stone hearth and kept a warm glow throughout the drawing room where Matthaeus sat comfortably on the floor. The room around him was lavish, with an arched ceiling and decorative stone walls, covered in tapestries and paintings depicting battles and sieges. There were plenty of chairs around with cushions so thick you would sink deep into them, but a single glance at the fur rug on the ground and Matthaeus had taken his seat there instead. It helped that it was right in front of the fire, and he enjoyed the warmth after a day spent out in the cold and the rain in the courtyard.

Reyland, Griff and Lord Aubrey sat on some of the chairs around him, enjoying drinks after supper. Matthaeus had followed the conversation as much as his language skills would allow, then eventually went back to sleepily sitting in front of the fire. Now he listened half-heartedly, watching through one barely open eye as he daydreamed about the bed waiting for him in his chambers.

“Shame, about the storm,” Lord Aubrey said, giving his glass of dark brown liquid a swirl. “Though, the extended visit is a welcome change to those in need of good company.”

“We will not be overstaying our welcome,” Griff replied. “As soon as the storm has passed, we will be on our way.”

“Stayin’ a few extra days may not be the worst either,” Reyland interjected brightly. His bottle of mead was most of the way empty, and it wasn’t his first either.

“And you are welcome to, young Reyland,” Lord Aubrey smirked.

“We will not,” Griff said firmly, glaring at his apprentice who returned the gesture with a carefree shrug.

“Then here’s hoping our storm lasts a while, aye?” Reyland said, raising his glass in a toast. Aubrey followed suit as Griff sighed.

“At the very least, you must promise to return someday,” Aubrey said with a contented sigh as he finished his glass. “The guards here make for rather boorish company, and they are far from fond of their lord.”

“Oi, what’s this?” Reyland said indignantly. “What’d give them a bad impression of you?”

“Ha! I’m far from worthy of that kind of praise, my friend,” Aubrey said with a laugh. “An Arklander noble, now under the thumb of the empire that conquered my nation. I was ripped from my home and set upon this keep as a punishment, and the men here know it.”

“Eh? What did you do?”

“I was on the losing side of a war, what else?” Aubrey said with a deprecating smile. “I should find myself lucky that I was left alive. Of course, they could hardly risk an organized rebellion in their newly conquered lands, so any living nobles had to be… split up. And so, I find myself here.”

A sour look came over Reyland’s face and he downed the rest of his mead.

“Politics aside,” Griff responded. “We are grateful a lord as hospitable as yourself has taken control of the keep.”

“Bah,” Aubrey scoffed, pouring himself a glass of wine from a crystal pitcher. “T’was the least I could offer. What use is a full pantry and empty beds if the pantry can not be emptied, and the beds not filled?”

“Be it true,” Reyland said pensively with a solemn nod and a smirk.

The fire grew too warm against Matthaeus’ back, so he shuffled further from the hearth and leaned his cheek against an empty armchair. The whole room turned to look at him, but for once he was too comfortable for the stares to bother him.

“Well, he lives,” Reyland called out. “Figured I’d be carryin’ ya' up to bed tonight, lil’ tyke, with how tired you seemed.”

Matthaeus wrapped his cloak around him a little tighter, ignoring the apprentice. Reyland just shrugged.

“The lad seems more tired than usual,” Aubrey commented. “What did you have him doing today?”

“Eh?” Reyland said, surprised. “Nothin’, I didn’t see him all day today. You, Griff?”

Griff hummed in response dismissively.

“Guess not, then,” Reyland said.

A little pang of guilt went through Matthaeus as he listened in. He knew enough words now to know they were talking about him, and he’d heard the word today… were they mad at him?”

“Hopefully he knows how to keep himself out of trouble in a keep like this,” Aubrey said with concern. “A keep filled with naught but soldiers and arms is hardly a safe place for a child.”

“Eh, the kid survived runnin’ through the Blight, pretty sure a keep is child’s play at this point,” Reyland remarked, staring with one eye through the honey coloured liquid of his bottle. He seemed the only one in the room who wasn’t aware of the sudden, heavy silence that followed.

“Come on, child’s play? Get it?” Reyland asked, oblivious to how both Lord Aubrey and Griff were staring at him. When he finally looked up from his bottle and noticed the looks he was getting, he shrunk back a bit sheepishly.

“I mean, I didn’t think it was good either, but it wasn’t that bad, right?”

“Survived through the Blight, you say?” Lord Aubrey said with a raised eyebrow. “This sounds like a tall tale I’d like to hear.”

Reyland’s heart dropped as he realised what he’d said.

“Reyland,” Griff said quietly. Reyland’s fight or flight response kicked in, and he started to sweat uncomfortably as a pained smile came over his face.

“Y-yes?” The apprentice said nervously.

“We’ll speak about this later,” Griff said simply. “For now-”

“I think there’s some explaining the two of you have to do, isn’t there?” Lord Aubrey said politely, smiling though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“So it would seem,” Griff said with a sigh, taking a swig from his flask.

“Would you care to start? Or shall I ask Reyland?”

“I think my apprentice has done enough talking for tonight.”

Matthaeus stayed in near slumber, oblivious to how the mood in the room had changed.

“We found Matthaeus in Arcaster, as I had said,” Griff began the story. “However, what I failed to mention was that he was not native to there. He had washed up upon the banks of the river, a river which flows south out of the Blight itself.”

“A peculiarly interesting detail to forget, Master Griffith.”

“How thoughtless of me,” Griff replied unapologetically.

“Then he came from the Norlands, through the Blight?”

“It would seem so.”

“And what did he see inside? What is it like, how did he escape alive… when so many before have failed?” A grim hint of anger had entered Aubrey’s voice.

“We do not know.”

“If the boy speaks no Arkasian, I’m somewhat learned in Norlin, I could-”

“And I am fluent,” Griff interrupted. “The boy has lost his memories, for one reason or another. We are unlikely to learn anything new through him, for now. It will take time, should his memories come back to him at all.”

Lord Aubrey leaned back in his chair, a sour look on his face.

“Then that is most inconvenient,” the baron said quietly, sighing. As he did so the anger seemed to drain away, until he seemed only slightly more tense than normal.

“Indeed. And I am sure that, should this information reach the wrong ears, it would be far more inconvenient,” Griff said.

Something darkened behind Aubrey’s eyes.

“Of course, of course…” the lord muttered. “Were the nobles of Kasin to hear of this, they’d demand to take the boy for themselves. How foolish of me.”

“You are as aware as I, of what cruelties the Kasin Empyreon is capable of, then,” Griff stated.

“Yes, of course,” Lord Aubrey replied. “They’d pry answers from the boy one way or another, be it torture or magic. And should they learn something they didn’t like, or learn nothing at all-”

“The boy would be executed,” Griff finished. “Under suspicion of being a northern spy.”

“Bloody Arkasians,” Aubrey spat. “Branding everyone outside their borders ‘savages’ when we’re all aware they’re the most beastly of us all.”

“You must forgive my caution in withholding information, then,” Griff said. “We knew not where you stand on these matters.”

“Bah,” Aubrey scoffed, his lip curling into a snarl. “I’m offended you’d lump me in with that lot, Griff. And here I thought I made good first impressions.”

“I see now my caution was unwarranted, thankfully. However, I will not apologise.”

“I should not expect you to,” Aubrey said with a tired sigh. “So what is your plan for the boy then? The moment you reach civilization, people will ask questions. You won’t be able to keep the boy a secret forever.”

“I am to take the boy to Castle Acheron,” Griff said simply. “No further. The higher-ups will decide his fate from there.”

“Business as usual, then?” Aubrey said with a dry laugh. “You Order lot are a strange sort, without doubt.”

Matthaeus listened in curiously, but the conversation was so far beyond him that he was unable to follow along. It sounded serious, but that was all he could make out.

“We have our ways,” Griff responded. “I expect no understanding.”

“Hmph,” Aubrey huffed, fixing himself another drink. “And what of your fellows? The Ordained that came to Arcaster after you. Have they heard of this boy and his story?”

“The commander, Leeman, has been informed,” Griff answered. “The others have no need to know.”

“Should they come by the keep after you’ve left, I’ll be sure to keep tighter lips than your apprentice here,” Aubrey said teasingly.

“Hahaha…” Reyland laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

They kept talking for a while, as Matthaeus’ head bobbed up and down slowly as sleep came for him. Some time later, he couldn’t be sure how long, his eyes closed for the last time, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Switch!” Leeman shouted, directing the Ordained at the back of their group. The cliffside pass was narrow, the wall of a mountain on their south side, a sheer drop into the ocean on their north. There was scarcely enough room for two horses side by side, but his faithful Ordained moved past each other without complaint anyways. “Those with bolts, to the rear! Those without, draw spears, bolster the front! Throw bloody rocks, if you’ve nothing else!”

From atop his steed he barked orders, and his Ordained followed. The villagers of Arcaster, those that were still alive, looked on in panic and tried to stifle their cries of fear as best they could. His heart bled for them, but Leeman couldn’t pause in his duties for a moment to offer comfort. An entire day of fleeing, chased by the Blight, left him with little time to do anything.

The rain had long since soaked into his bones, and just raising his limbs felt like a struggle now. Everything he had was nearly spent, and it was taking all he had left to put up a strong face for the people relying on him.

Just a little bit further, he thought grimly. If they could just make it a little further, to the mouth of the cave…

“Ahh-chk!” A man’s cry was interrupted by the crunching sound of something striking bone. Leeman watched with a horrified grimace as a man riding his horse not ten feet from him was struck in the chest by something - a projectile, like a needle. It was long, maybe two feet from end to end, and had punctured the man’s armour like it hadn’t been there. The Ordained dropped slowly from his horse, his corpse rolling off the edge of the cliff where it tumbled to the ocean.

Leeman cursed, tightening his grip on his spear and scanning the cliff far above them until he found the culprit.

“There you are, bastard,” he growled, staring down the dark silhouette against the sky. It was round and about the size of a bear, but had long, porcupine-like quills sprouting from every inch of its back. Quills that pointed forwards, instead of back.

“Leeman!” A woman shouted, pulling her horse up beside him, crossbow in hand. “We can’t hold much longer, those wolves-”

Leeman snatched the crossbow from her arms, aimed and fired at the beast on the cliff above them. He heard the snap of the bolt connecting, then an angry, gargling hiss, and the figure disappeared as it retreated.

“‘Preciate it,” Leeman grunted, shoving the crossbow back into her arms. “Now, you were saying?”

The woman gulped before continuing.

“They aren’t slowing down, Commander,” she shouted over the pounding of the rain and thunder. “For every one we kill or send running, half a dozen take its place! What’s your plan?!”

“To get us out of here alive!” Leeman yelled back. “If we’re alive later, ask questions then! If we aren’t, then I don’t give much of a shit anyways!”

The young woman reared back on her horse, sneering, and turned to run towards the back of the group once again.

“S-sir!” A man called, this time from the front of the group.

“What now?!” Leeman yelled, firing his own crossbow into another porcupine-like figure that appeared above them. His heart sunk as he saw it immediately replaced by four more.

“We found the cave, wh-” the man’s sentence was cut off as a volley of quills rained down from above. Leeman ducked, covering his neck on instinct. A quill struck his horse in the neck, and with a gargling, panicked cry, his loyal horse bucked him off, floundered, and then fell to her side dead.

“Rhea!” Leeman called to his horse, slowly picking his aching body up from the ground. As he did he saw the man who’d been speaking to him, as well as the quill that had gone through his skull. In through the very top, then out the bottom of his chin and into the ground where it had the man’s corpse pinned up like a mannequin.

He said a silent prayer for the man and his horse, then pulled himself the rest of the way up.

“Full retreat!” He screamed as loud as he could. “To the cave! This way!”

The Ordained guarding the rear turned at the sound of his voice, spurring their horses into motion as they began running past him.

Angrily, Leeman grabbed his spear from the ground. He could see the last few Ordained, still far from him, as well as the horrific monsters that chased on their heels.

He started running back towards the cave entrance, counting the few followers he had left as they passed him. At this rate, they wouldn’t even make it to the cave before the Blight caught their tails.

The mouth of the cave, barely large enough for a single horse to pass through, finally came into view. He sprinted to it then stopped, turning around and levelling his spear at the approaching horde, and the stragglers behind him.

“All inside, now!” He yelled, counting the last few Ordained still coming.

Five. Just five remained behind him.

The first three passed him quickly, ducking their heads as they ran into the cramped cave without hesitation. As they did, he glanced up towards the cliff above them and cursed.

More of those porcupine beasts had appeared, and he watched as their backs bristled dangerously. He dove back into the cave as quickly as he could, watching as the entire ledge was pelted by quills that dug deep into the earth. His heart raced - a moment later and he would’ve been skewered.

Leeman stepped back out of the cave, spear at the ready, searching for his last two stragglers. He looked out just in time to catch sight of the nearer one fall, a half dozen quills through his body, off the edge of the cliff. Leeman winced as the man’s body bounced and tumbled off the cliff edge, eventually splashing into the ocean far below.

“Farewell,” he whispered, then turned his attention to the final straggler.

It was a young man, barely into his teen years. Probably out on his first real task after completing Initiation. The whites of his eyes were visible even from so far away, and the panic on his face put a twist in Leeman’s gut.

“Hurry, hurry!” Leeman screamed at him.

The quill-beasts above bristled again, and Leeman looked on in horror. Were they… regrowing the quills on their backs? It was hard to see in the dark, but…

As it would turn out, it didn’t matter if they were, for they never had a chance to launch their quills against the young man. Instead there was a blur, a massive form pouncing down from the top of the cliff. It landed directly on top of the young man, jaws clamped over him and horse alike, lifting them into the air with the same ease a dog might lift a squirrel.

Leeman’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t even seen it coming.

The shadowy form looked up at him, the legs of the horse still dangling from its mouth, and Leeman took a cowardly step back towards the cave.

Was that… no, it couldn’t be.

The beast’s single, glowing orange eye glared back, its other eye held shut. The long mane of glowing purple that hung from its neck framed its head in the blackness of the night, painting the visage of a monster unlike anything Leeman had seen. Unlike anything natural.

The giant, wolf-like monster tightened its jaws, and the crunch of bone was loud enough to make Leeman’s stomach churn. He could see it, the thick, dark blood that poured from the beasts’ mouth, running like rain down the cliffside.

And all the while, the beast stared at him, unmoving. As if daring him to try something. Leeman’s heart pounded, his hands shook, and his knees felt faint. He couldn’t pull his eyes from the sight in front of him.

“Commander!” A woman yelled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling. He staggered, falling over his own feet as he was dragged into the cave. The world was plunged into darkness, then the soft yellow light of torches.

The panicked faces of the few that survived greeted him.

“Commander, we have to keep moving,” the woman said, still supporting his side as if he were injured. “They’ll follow into the cave soon, we need to find a way out.”

“Follow,” Leeman said hoarsely, only now realising that his breathing had been coming in ragged, shallow breaths. “Follow me. I… I know the way. We can make it most of the way to Jurhal Keep underground.”

“What of the Blighted?” The woman asked, concern written on her face. Leeman studied her, noting only now that she was a new face. He didn’t even have a name to put to it. How many more had died, who’s names he had never even known?

“The cave entrance is too small for many,” he said, pulling himself from her arm to stand on his own. “The small ones, we can deal with. They can only come from one side down here, after all.”

She nodded, unquestioning of his judgement. He wished he had as much faith in his plan as she seemed to.

“You all heard the Commander,” she shouted, waving to the others. “Move yer asses! Leeman’ll guide the way, then the villagers, then the rest of us at the rear!”

Leeman nodded, his face pale and blank.

As the Ordained began filing into rank, Leeman turned to the young woman slowly.

“Say,” he asked shakily. “What’s your name, Ordained?”

She looked back at him, shock on her face. Not the surprise of an unexpected question, but rather the faraway look of someone who’d seen too much to comprehend it all yet. He’d seen that look on many, many faces over the years. Worn it himself just as many times.

“Maeve,” she replied quietly.

“Maeve,” Leeman said back, just as hushed. “I’ll remember that.”

“Commander?” She asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied grimly, walking past her to take his place at the front of the group. “Just keep walking, and try not to get yourself killed.”

“...Yes, Commander.”

And the march towards Jurhal Keep continued.