The village lay in the shadow of the White Spire Mountains, the dying sun casting a pale orange glow over the foothills. Sparse trees swayed in the cold wind blowing from the mountains, their silhouettes twisted and black against the inferno consuming the Chumen settlement. Thick columns of smoke rose from the burning huts, blotting out the sky as flames licked the fragile wooden structures.


    Domnall stood on a ridge overlooking the chaos, his long black hair whipping in the wind. His face, worn from years of violence, bore a grim expression. The ugly scar running across his cheek seemed to darken with the flickering light of the burning village below. He watched silently, taking in the destruction, his mind drifting to the countless other villages he had seen fall in much the same manner. The once righteous fire that had driven him was now a dim ember, replaced by a weariness that gnawed at his bones.


    He lit a pipe, inhaling deeply, the taste of smoke mingling with the acrid stench of burning that filled the air. His eyes moved from the flames to his men—mercenaries armed to the teeth, rounding up the surviving Chumen. Most of the Chumen, large, hairy ape-men, lay dead or dying. Those that survived were dragged from the smoldering wreckage, beaten into submission, and chained, their defiance no match for Domnall''s seasoned warriors. He watched as a Chumen mother was pulled to her feet, her child crying in her arms. One of his men grabbed the child, and Domnall looked away, the sight too familiar, the screams too ordinary to stir anything but a dull ache in his chest.


    He took another drag from his pipe, letting the smoke cloud his vision. The cries of the captives and the brutal laughter of his men reverberated around him. They relished their work—the spoils, the thrill, the power—while Domnall could only feel the hollowness that came after so many years of following orders.


    "Efficient work," came a voice from behind him.


    Domnall turned slightly, his gaze falling on Cara, his second-in-command. She was athletic, her blond hair tied back in a warrior''s braid. Her eyes, calm and calculating, took in the scene below with little reaction. She had always been competent, level-headed in the face of brutality, a quality Domnall had come to both admire and resent.


    "Efficient enough," Domnall said, his voice a low rumble. "Any other villages in the area?"


    Cara shook her head. "Most have either been raided or fled into the higher mountains. There''s not much left to find down here."


    Domnall frowned, his eyes narrowing as he took another drag from his pipe. The raids were becoming unsustainable. Gaius''s constant demands for more captives were pushing them further and further afield, and soon there would be nothing left to take. He exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting upwards, merging with the haze from the village.


    "How much longer can we keep this up?" he muttered, almost to himself. "What will Gaius do when there''s no one left to feed the arenas?"


    Cara''s eyes flickered, her expression unchanged. "He''ll find a way. If not through us, then through someone else."


    Domnall grimaced. He knew she was right. Gaius always found a way—and men like Domnall were always there to do the dirty work.


    As the last of the Chumen were rounded up, Domnall''s thoughts wandered back to the past, to the man he used to be. Sixteen years ago, when Gaius had first recruited him, he had been eager, driven by ambition. The raids had been smaller then, the targets less frequent. But over the years, the hunger for non-human gladiators had only grown, turning small incursions into large-scale campaigns.


    He had scars on his body, and deeper ones on his soul. The violence, the bloodshed—all in the name of the empire and its arenas. He had thought he could handle it, that the ends justified the means. But now, standing here, looking over the burning village, he felt nothing but exhaustion.


    "The Chumen tried to rebel once before. Did you know that?" he said quietly. "But they were never a match for us. Organized, disciplined. They never stood a chance."


    Cara gave a slight nod. "Resistance is futile against the empire. They know that now."


    Domnall sighed. "Aye. But that doesn''t make it any easier to stomach."


    Down in the village, his men were growing restless. Their respect for him was still evident, but Domnall could sense the growing tension. The younger mercenaries, the ones who had only known this brutal life, were becoming more reckless with each raid, their cruelty unchecked. Domnall had noticed some of them whispering, casting glances in his direction, perhaps wondering if they could do better, take more.


    "The young ones are getting out of hand," Cara said, echoing his thoughts. "They''re getting too cruel, too careless."


    Domnall set his jaw, brushing off her concern. "They''re just eager. They''ll learn."


    But he knew she was right. And he knew that his own weariness was beginning to show.


    He took one last look at the village, then turned to Cara. "Send scouts into the mountains. See if there''s anything left to take."


    Cara frowned. "The mountains this time of year? It''s spring, and the melting snows tend to cause mudslides and swell the rivers. Travel in the mountains will be dangerous. We could lose men.""


    "We don''t have a choice," Domnall snapped, then softened his tone. "Gaius demands more. And I intend to deliver."


    Cara hesitated, then nodded, her expression giving away nothing. "I''ll see to it."


    Domnall watched her go, his shoulders heavy with the weight of his orders. He had thought, once, of disobeying Gaius, of finding another path. But he knew the consequences. There was no turning back now.


    As the night deepened, Domnall walked to the edge of the ridge, staring out at the burning village below. The flames flickered, casting long shadows, and the cries of the Chumen grew distant. He smoked quietly, the cold wind from the mountains biting into his skin, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the peaks in the distance.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Somewhere up there, there were more villages. More people. More blood.


    The raids couldn’t go on forever. Domnall knew that. And when they ended, when the tide turned, what then? What would become of him, of his men, of Gaius?


    He stared into the darkness, the mountains looming like a wall, and pushed the thoughts away. There was no point in thinking of the future. Not when survival was all that mattered.


    The flames burned on, and Domnall watched, alone, as the village crumbled to ash.


    * * * * *


    The four scouts trudged through the treacherous foothills of the White Spire Mountains, their breath clouding in the cold morning air. Spring had come, but the snowmelt from the towering peaks had transformed the landscape into a mess of raging rivers and muddy quagmires. The going was tough, but they moved with a certain confidence, their excitement unbroken by the challenging terrain.


    Aidan led the group, his eyes focused and sharp, as he navigated through the muddy paths. He was the eldest and most experienced, a natural leader whose practical skills often kept the group on track. Behind him, Baird grumbled loudly, his usual brash demeanor in full force as he complained about the thick mud that clung to their boots. "Bloody mountains," he muttered. "The non-human scum must love living in this mess."


    Finn, ever the quiet one, walked a few paces behind. He had an eye for the smallest details, always the one to spot dangers before the rest. He cast a glance at the swollen creeks that they passed, the water rushing with a ferocity that hadn''t been there in previous years. "The landscape''s treacherous," he said softly, his tone more contemplative than concerned. "The snowmelt is bad. We''ll need to be careful."


    Lowen, the youngest, moved with a spring in his step despite the thick mud and challenging conditions. He was eager, his eyes shining with the thrill of the adventure. He looked up at the mountains towering above them, the peaks capped in white even as the sun began to warm the valleys below. "I don''t see what the big deal is," he called up to Baird, a grin on his face. "We get through this, and we''ll be the first to find a demi-human village. Imagine the loot."


    Aidan shook his head, his lips curving into a small smile. "Focus on getting there in one piece first, Lowen. There''s no glory in slipping into a ravine."


    As they approached a fast-moving river swollen with snowmelt, Aidan stopped and surveyed the scene. The usually manageable stream had transformed into a torrent. He frowned, motioning the others to gather around. "We can''t just wade through this," he said, his voice steady. "We need to find a narrower spot."


    Baird snorted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Think Lowen can swim across? Maybe we can tie a rope to him."


    Lowen rolled his eyes but didn''t rise to the bait. Instead, he pointed further upstream. "There’s a fallen tree up ahead. We can use it as a bridge."


    They moved carefully, making their way to where the tree had toppled across the water. The trunk was slick with moisture, but it was sturdy enough. Aidan went first, balancing with careful precision, and soon they were all across—though there was a tense moment when Finn slipped, his boot skidding on the wet bark. Lowen caught his arm just in time, pulling him back upright. Finn let out a shaky breath, and Baird laughed. "Almost took a bath there, Finn."


    "Thanks, Lowen," Finn muttered, ignoring Baird’s jibe.


    "No problem," Lowen replied with a grin. "Just don''t expect me to save you twice."


    They continued their trek, the ground growing muddier and more unstable as they moved higher into the foothills. Baird kept up his grumbling, cursing every step as his boots sank into the thick mud. "This is ridiculous," he said. "Feels like we''re walking through wet shit."


    Aidan glanced back at him, his expression calm. "Keep your eyes on your footing. One wrong step and you''ll be sliding back down to the bottom."


    Finn nodded in agreement. "The terrain''s unpredictable. The melting snow makes it worse this time of year. We need to stay alert."


    When they reached a steep ridge that still held patches of snow, Aidan paused, eyeing the slope critically. "Lowen, you''re up," he said, gesturing to the rocks. "Find us a way up."


    Lowen''s grin widened, and he moved forward eagerly. He was the best climber among them, his reckless energy serving him well in moments like this. He scrambled up the ridge, finding handholds in the rocks and navigating the slippery snow with ease. The others followed, more slowly, their muscles straining as they pulled themselves upward.


    Baird cursed under his breath, his fingers slipping on a wet rock. "Bloody snowmelt. This whole mountain''s a swamp."


    "Just keep moving," Aidan called back, his voice steady. Despite the difficulty, they all made it to the top without incident, and they took a moment to catch their breath, looking out over the landscape below.


    They rested on the ridge, the wind whipping around them, and Baird broke the silence with a laugh. "You know, for all the complaining, there''s something about this life I wouldn''t trade for anything. Raiding those demi-human villages, taking what we want... it''s better than rotting away in some village."


    Lowen nodded, a mischievous grin on his face. "You have to admit, those demi-humans are tough. Living up here, they have to be. Makes it all the more satisfying when we take them down."


    Aidan listened, his gaze distant. "Better than being a peasant," he agreed, though his tone lacked the enthusiasm of the others. He turned his eyes to Finn, who was quieter, his expression more reserved.


    "It''s a dangerous life," Finn said finally. "But it''s what we chose. Just remember that danger goes both ways."


    Baird smirked, changing the topic with a glint in his eye. "Speaking of demi-humans, you see those Revia we took a couple months back—the fox-like ones? Exotic, aren''t they? Wouldn''t mind getting my hands on one of their women."


    Lowen burst into laughter, howling like a wolf. "Beast-loving Baird! Want to cuddle up with a fox, do you?"


    Aidan chuckled, shaking his head. "We''re here to find a village, not fantasize. Stay focused."


    Baird waved him off, still grinning. "I know, I know. Just saying, there''s more to life than following orders."


    They began their descent from the ridge, entering a dense, ancient forest that loomed ahead of them. The air grew still, and the forest floor was thick with dead leaves and underbrush. The towering trees, wrapped in moss, blocked out the sun, casting long shadows that made it feel as though night had already fallen.


    The atmosphere shifted, the group moving more cautiously now. There was something different about the forest—an almost oppressive quiet that made the hairs on the back of Aidan''s neck stand on end. He glanced around, noticing the others'' unease.


    "This place is too quiet," Finn said softly. "It''s like the forest is watching us."


    Lowen, ever eager, looked up at one of the larger trees. "Want me to climb up? See if I can spot anything?"


    Aidan nodded. "Do it."


    Lowen quickly scaled the tree, his agile form disappearing into the thick branches. The others waited below, their eyes scanning the darkened woods. Baird shifted uncomfortably, his usual bravado subdued by the strange atmosphere. "Don''t like this place," he muttered.


    "Stay focused," Aidan said. "Lowen will tell us what he sees."


    After a few tense moments, Lowen''s voice called down from above. "Smoke to the northwest! Not far—maybe half a day from here."


    Excitement rippled through the group, the prospect of a potential village shifting their mood. Aidan''s expression hardened, his mind already planning their next steps. "We move cautiously. Scout the area first, then report back to Domnall. We can''t risk being detected."


    Lowen descended, and the group set off toward the smoke, moving with renewed purpose. Baird and Lowen were eager, their anticipation palpable, while Finn''s cautious gaze swept the forest around them. The tension grew as they moved deeper into the dense woods, the promise of their next target driving them forward.


    Aidan led them onward, his mind focused on the mission. They had a job to do, and he intended to see it through—no matter what waited for them in the shadows of the White Spire Mountains.