" News Headlines: Breaking: Melton Declares War! First Offensive Sacks Northern Carrador!


    - War on the horizon, Will Melton be left unchecked?


    New Berenia Fears for Onslaught of Refugees


    - Local councilman says no more space for more refugees, cites growing costs


    Port Sidonia Open to Idea of Enlarging League Navy


    - ”Recent aggression merits response” Sidonian council says


    Tressleburg Warns of Political Upheaval as Discontent Rises with Berenian Prodding


    - Tressleburg joined others to condemn Berenian overreach with sweeping new security laws


    Sturmbreaker Proposes Emergency Summit of Free Cities


    - Lady Mayor Kantrel calls for emergency summit to discuss collective security measures and aid for Carrador"


    - The Ascar Gazette - Special Edition Report on Melton-Carrador War


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    Light blinded her vision as shouts of surprise deafened her hearing. It took Sophie a moment to reorient herself as her mind swam in panic at the sudden flash. Bloody magic! Taking her chance to open the door she managed to get a glimpse of the scene below from her perch above the stairs.


    A gaggle of oddly dressed cultists and an orc stood facing the first floor hallway, their hands partly rubbing their eyes suggesting whatever happened was directed at them. It also meant, however, that the prince’s trio was trapped inside the short wing or the house and from what she could tell when she explored it, there was no exit. Calm down, Sophie, you need to focus. Peaking over the edge she counted five lightly armoured cultists, another massive orc that towered over them, and Markus. Holding back her own growl she watched them hold up makeshift shields made from pots and pans before advancing against the other wing.


    “Useless cretins not only did we let one get away but they broke free too?! Our people are counting on us to get this done, you two make sure we don’t have any more guests. Garthorn…” Markus ordered.


    “I will see it done. For my blood brother.” The orc replied, his two fangs breaking into a hateful snarl as creases lined his head with a frown.


    Do what? Sophie wanted to ask but held her question when the green giant hefted a mighty greataxe and began advancing toward the doorway, casting a brief glance upwards. Seemingly meeting his gaze Sophie frantically crawled away from the doorway, her body involuntarily quivering at the full brunt of the orc’s hateful gaze.


    Fuck! I’m dead, I’m so dead. She crawled toward the master bedroom, certain that someone would run up the stairs to stop her.


    “Grrarrrggh!” The orc screamed loud enough to make her wince and she could hear the unmistakable sound of another door being violently torn from its hinges.


    Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me, Sophie pleaded as she passed the first knight’s brutalised corpse. Yet before her plan of escaping through the window could come to fruition tragedy struck. It was perhaps her leg that felt it first, the subtle application of force, the slight pressure that was a little too strong. Then her body as it noticed the shifting of balance. Before even a breath could be taken Sophie herself cringed as the floorboards under her creaked so loudly that she swore the fighting stopped because of her. Panic shot through her and she cared not for the noise she made and began bolting forwards.


    “Upstairs!”


    “Someone’s there!”


    Cultists yelled from below, forcing her to duck back into the master bedroom. Puddles of water and dampness coated the room from the open window earlier and slipped head first onto the floor. Pain pounded through her head and in the moment she spent reocvering, she noticed the dull thudding of footsteps fast approached.


    “There in the ritual room!” Someone yelled from alarmingly close.


    Wasting no time she pushed herself off the ground and scrambled out the window. In her haste she climbed onto the window sill only for a moment before a pounding ache destabilised her. Her legs buckled under the sudden surprise and with one hand still nervously shaking her grip loosened just as quickly and she found herself staring up at the sky as rain pelted her fast. Oh…this sucks, she pulled out a glum thought and braced herself for the impact.


    She felt the wind rush out of her lungs as something rammed into her, before being pressed into a muddy mess as it slammed into the house. She heard the laboured breathing before anything and as she opened her eyes she found slick blonde hair dangling titillatingly on her nose before the moment was ruined by the scowling face under it.


    “Dumb bitch trying to die?” Apprentice Mila huffed in annoyance, trying her best to not appear winded but the pained wince told Sophie otherwise.


    Around her she heard the distinctive clanking of armour as two more figures emerged, the templar sergeant now clad in the silver plate she saw back at the barrows hung back behind the more imposing giant. Still in inquisitorial leathers with his chest-plate, she found Taurox looking down at her with a mixture of amusement and disdain, hopefully in equal measure.


    What the…help is here! Sophie thought excitedly before she remembered where she was and quickly scrambled off the inquisitor.


    “Sorry, sorry! Sorry!” She apologised quickly before Mila dragged her in by the collar and shut her up.


    “You owe me answers after this.” The young inquisitor growled and pushed her towards the minotaur.


    Nearly losing her footing she felt oddly comforted when the blademaster steadied her with a calm hand. She turned around only to quickly feel something being thrusted into her arms, the hilt already familiar, a reminder of her need to persevere. Wilfred’s saber! The minotaur looked down with beady eyes and grinned when the lead cultist chasing her saw the intruders and quickly jumped back inside.


    “Figured you’d be doing something stupid once I couldn’t find you at the inn, young elf.” Taurox spoke without even looking down at her, his gaze focused on the house’s entryway, “Now that you’ve injured an inquisitor and proven that you can’t follow complex instructions, here’s some simpler ones, follow my orders and consider this your practical training.” He said as he turned her around and pointed her towards the door. “Remember?”


    The unnecessary jab at her idiocy made her wilt ever so slightly but she nodded nonetheless, “Overcome with commitment, fight with body and mind, dance, err watch and learn?” She muttered, unable to hold herself back from a little jab of her own.


    Taurox finally looked at her properly before giving a dismissive huff, “Barely good enough, but stay behind me.” He ordered and she agreed, behind the skilled fighter was the best place to be aside from away. Turning toward the winded blonde they seemed to communicate in silence until the minotaur finally spoke, “Apprentice?”


    “Knocked up and winded, but ready and able my lord.” Mila replied as she stretched her sore muscles.


    “Good. Sergeant, apprentice, secure the other side of the house.”


    “Yes lord inquisitor!”


    “Yes my lord.”


    The two snappily replied and Sophie watched as they circled around to the chicken coop side of the house. Looking back at the minotaur she remembered why she had come here in the first place and quickly tugged on his uniform before he barged in, earning her a slightly more annoyed look than before.


    “Evidence and ritual stuff.” She said barely comprehensible as she pointed to her pouch, but Taurox seemed to understand and just gestured ahead before Sophie stopped him again.


    “What?” Taurox asked, the blademasters voice rising a notch with even more irritation than before.


    “Umm…adventurer gold…no sorry…gold rank adventurer Marcus inside.” She clarified before quickly making an addendum, “And an orc.”


    This on the other hand earned her some space as the blademaster paused to digest the information before scowling as well.


    “This is going to be harder than expected then,” He narrowed his eyes at the house, “Make sure you stay behind me young elf, it will be a learning experience but you must follow my orders.”


    Concerned Sophie turned to look around before jumping backwards as the minotaur swung his axe at the door. Though she had expected some damage, the way it exploded into splinters from the might of his blow sent her darting for cover behind him.


    “Watch and learn.” He growled mischievously and charged into the building.


    Without warning or even so much as a shout Sophie shivered as the first cultist he saw, a robed acolyte simply turned to stare at the new arrival before he was unceremoniously bisected by the blademaster. Rain kept the sabre slick in her hand but she held it tight regardless and entered behind the minotaur. Evidently, the shock and awe of his attack had been so sudden even the combatants inside the other wing ceased their fighting to look through the door.


    “In the name of the Astralian Inquisition you are hereby charged with heresy, apostasy, occultism, ritual murder and kidnapping. Surrender now or your lives are forfeit.” Taurox roared as he sliced another man in two. The cultist looked as surprised as everyone that he was dying.


    “Garthorn!” Markus’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, “A good fight!”


    “A worthy foe!” The orc snarled back and charged at the minotaur.


    His sheer green mass delivered a flurry of heavy blows as the blademaster deftly parried them all.


    “The rest of you, stop the prince and his knights!” Markus yelled and rushed down the stairs until he traded glances with Sophie, “You…” The Crow’s face twisted into displeasure as his dark eyes bore down on her.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Seeing his face irritated her. Adventurers were brave and courageous folk often leaping head first into danger and he had been the downfall of many a good soul. Worse yet, he had either directly or indirectly led the cultists to clash with the expedition, robbing Sophie of her comrades and even worse, hurting Annalise. But knowing that he was part of the cult and skilled enough to be a gold ranked guilder meant he was likely not just small fry. And that means answers.


    “Traitor!” Sophie snarled at him and brandished her blade at him with a challenge.


    “Are you trying to fight me? A maid? Civilians shouldn’t meddle with things they don’t understand. This won’t even be fun.” He tutted and jumped down the stairs before dashing at her with a mad look on his face.


    Incensed she readied herself to fight before realising her error, she was not just outmatched, the skills Taurox drilled into her had barely had time to gestate since their arrival in Melton and thus she found herself helpless when she needed them the most. But time was not on her side and the crow dodged a side swipe from the minotaur by seemingly vanishing and reappearing out of thin air. The next thought had turned into a fight for her life as his blade clashed against her.


    Breathe, focus, left, his right leg-no left, incoming right! Shit! Duck! Sophie threw herself to the floor and aimed a kick at a nearby pot, the clatter distracting Marcus just enough for her to steady herself. Remember, commitment and oh shit! He brought his shortsword to bear and feigned an overhead strike prompting her to raise her guard. But before she could react he reached out with a free hand and launched a brutal punch to her gut. Reeling from the hit she brought the blade over the table and scraped all the utensils and plates at him in a feeble attempt to buy herself some time. Fight, limber? Focus, breathe.


    Her mind an incoherent mess, she pivoted on the spot to avoid a thrust and tried to press her own attack just to find an elbow flying towards her face.


    “Umpf!” She grimaced and fell, slashing wildly to retreat and nearly landing a blow.


    Markus jumped back deftly, performing a small curtsey as her strikes whiffed. Pointing her sabre at him, she found the adrenaline running through her body on overdrive as her hands shook, the muscles remembering how easy she had been laid low by monstrosity in the ruins. Her moment of contemplation cost her the initiative, Markus smirked and launched the pot at her face with a mighty kick, Sophie raising her sabre in a panic to punch it with the hilt. In this momentary lapse in judgment she felt the briefest of cuts on her arm.


    Falling back and pushing the pot away she launched a cleave of her own, lungeing forward only for him to backpedal and parry her blow. Fuck, I can’t get a hit in, dodge! She sidestepped the oncoming jab but slammed into the kitchen counter and staggered slightly. Markus swung sideways and Sophie was barely able to raise the sabre to absorb the blow. Markus’s innate strength forced Sophie on the back foot as she retreated to avoid him pushing past her guard and cutting into her. Having gained the initiative a viscous grin crawled onto his face and Sophie panicked before horror set in as she felt the door behind her once more.


    It was as if everything traveled in slow motion as she spotted the glint of his blade from the candlelight plowing its way through the air towards her. Cutting through the fabric of her shirt she could feel the coldness of the steel passing her by and stabbing into the door. Safe for the moment she readied her own swing when Markus’s form took up her whole vision and she felt her body scream in pain as he tackled her through the door.


    Rain danced on her face when the adventurer jumped off her and plopped his boots into the mud. Smugness, smugness was the first thing she really processed radiating off of him when she pushed herself back up. Furious squawking greeted the duelists as chickens roamed free in an angry panic. Almost immediately Markus launched an inhumanly fast attack and before she knew it the sabre was knocked from her hands and landed with a dirty plop of its own in the mud.


    Before he could land another blow she launched herself at the man and threw a punch between his legs. Though weak, her surprise attack staggered him and she used the momentum to shove him away, the adventurer barely avoiding falling into the watery grave behind him. The man in front of her smirked regaining his balance just as Sophie grabbed her sabre again. Yet sounds of fighting outside the walls caught both their attention and Sophie realised the other two inquisitors had run into more cultists outside. Dismayed, she managed to recall why she threw herself into such a hopeless situation in the first place and glared at the man, seizing initiative to ask a question.


    “Why? Why all this for the wretched creatures beyond the veil? To sacrifice so many for the one hiding in the dark?” She asked and winced at the memory of the horror she witnessed through the portal.


    “Why? Why not?” Markus grinned at her, “A dark tide comes upon us all, the signs are all there and we are unprepared to carry the burden. To survive, the rightful guardians must be returned or we will all perish.” He finished matter of factly, gesticulating in a grandiose fashion as he strode closer to Sophie, almost proud to finally be able to reveal his plans.


    Sophie remained silent and just watched as something seemed to amuse the traitor.


    “You mentioned beyond the veil…then you were there at the ritual? Surely you saw, felt, nay, tasted the power that flowed from realms beyond our imagination. Then you understand that with it we hold the power to save everyone from the darkness that lurks beyond the wastes.” He spoke excitedly like talking to a comrade, his eyes changing from boredom to a more manic expression.


    Sophie hesitated to nod but eventually allowed herself to, just a little closer. Markus walked closer like a priest preaching to his congregation and the duelist’s grin turned into one of joy instead of a taunt at her expression of agreement. Yet Sophie was uneasy, not just because she needed to end a person’s life, but because she knew of what he spoke of and worse, she knew of another power beyond the veil, the entity.


    “The masters…long have they retreated from us because we were unworthy…” He spoke with a sober tone as he edged closer, “Yet through research and time we…that is the ones willing to protect the free peoples of this world, found a way to bring back our guardians. For the demons of the north come once more. With the power you witnessed…” He paused to emphasize the point and Sophie struck.


    Now’s the chance! Sophie lifted her sabre quickly for a slash across the man’s chest, only to hold the blade an inch from his heart, her own arms trembling as he raised an eyebrow, daring her to do it. Come on! Just cut him! Right to left! He’s open! She screamed at herself to no avail, her weakened arm shook ever so slightly the longer she held the blade up, her nerves jittering at the sudden standstill. Her heart stilled as she realised that she couldn’t deliver the finishing blow, however much she loathed this being, she couldn’t do it. Why? Why?!  Freezing up she raised her own eyes to meet his and he practically beamed at her, his ill kept beard twisting into a disgusting smile.


    “I knew you wouldn’t,” He whispered gleefully, “You’re too conscious, too…normal. Rarely can people kill so easily and your anger…heheh.” He chuckled, “You’ve trained yourself to hide so well, you can’t afford to let loose when you work.”


    Sophie felt her blood boil and she slashed her blade at him. The sharp sabre cut bits of leather and fabric off his chest piece much to his delight before she felt his hands clasp onto hers. Pain seared through her limbs as he pressed down and forcefully pried the sabre out of her hands and forced her down to the muddy ground below.


    “People don’t realise adventurers are ruthless killers, they see us as little gooders doing our own little song and dance when in reality, we roam the wilderness and kill things. But sometimes there are things we can’t kill, so we call for help.” He nudged her blade just out of arms reach before he released her and held her captive with the short sword aimed at her neck.


    “Yet in all that traveling sometimes we do come across some amazing things. And though I oughta gut you like the insolent wench you are, I think you and I might be far more connected than you think.” He winked.


    Sophie grimaced and gulped, the anger and adrenaline giving way to fear and trepidation.


    “Go on, I see it in your eyes, speak.”


    “Wh-what do you mean?” She stammered out. Is…will he actually give me answers? Is there something he knows?


    “Have you ever wondered why you were so weird?”


    Ouch, just kill me, Sophie winced from fear and emotional damage, though she managed a reluctant shake of her head.


    “Picture this, in my younger years I learned of an oncoming calamity and decided to find a way to fix it. In doing so I joined up with a group of like minded individuals who eventually did, devise a possible solution.” He waxed profoundly like how Hilda would just before browbeating Sophie into submission for failing a task, “Yet tragedy struck when some banal mistake cascaded into a disaster, forgetfulness leading to truly talented minds being lost.” He nodded somberly, retracting his shortsword from her neck and began pacing around her, the soft splish splosh of his footsteps interspersed by angry clucking.


    Suddenly, Sophie felt him loom over her, his hands roughly dragged her face right up next to his, his scraggly beard hairs tickling her chin.


    “So imagine my surprise when I was informed that my colleagues had called upon the ancients to save us from tragedy, and have, as most botched cultists do, failed. A tragedy for sure but as I dug deeper, some slimy little worm whispered that perhaps they didn’t fail, perhaps they didn’t die…in vain shall we say.” He smiled cruelly, “Perhaps they did bring something over, a remnant of the past, if not…fully pure.”


    Sophie blinked as she struggled to breath and tried to process the words, what does he mean? Where is he going with this?


    “Because you see, little woodland maid, have you ever wondered why you are here? How, you got here? After all, it''s not often one gets born with eyes quite like yours.” He whispered the last words and Sophie felt a shiver of disgust run down her spine. Creep, fucking creep. “Think, what was your first memory of this land. Do you remember?”


    “N-no-no?” Sophie replied, a gnawing sense of anxiousness now taking control. First memory? What does he mean? How did I get to this land? What? Her brow furrowed, nothing coming to the surface no matter how much her mind beat upon the closed doors of memories, ones locked in the deep recesses of her mind.


    “Think of the symbols, the rituals, the hexes and wards.” He growled as he forced her head downward where his hand drew out the ritual pattern. Same as the farmers, the bedroom, the barrows, and…


    Her eyes widened and she unwittingly let loose a small gasp as the locked door opened. She saw a forest, a stone dias, leylines, and the robes of the cult. She heard birdsong, the sway of the trees and the distant growling of a bear. She felt the tickling of grass, the wind as it licked her skin, the purity of water. Then came the pounding headache, the pain that always drove her away from the memory, the darkness that clouded her mind and she looked up to find Markus almost rapturous. His smile reached his eyes as he nodded fervently.


    “Yes…yes! I was right, hahaha of course it was the maid in the middle of nowhere.” He cackled, “Now do you understand? I had my suspicions of course, after we learned of your existence, but who would’ve thought you were so much closer than I ever expected. Now if you’ll excuse me.”


    He grinned politely and Sophie felt her arms burn in agony. The man twisted her wounds to wring the blood out of her and into a flask. She screamed in pain at how he cut a deep gash across her other arm and pushed the blood forcefully out. Tears mixed with rain as she choked back a sob only to howl with anguish as his torment continued.


    “Of course, I’m not certain, but no longer do we need to do silly things to find the blood of our ancestors or to taint the wells of magic. You, maid of the woods, might be the hero that saves us all.” He giggled maniacally as he capped the flask shut and pulled away, leaving Sophie to curl on the ground in a sobbing heap.


    “You live for today, and tomorrow and the days after, hopefully. We shall meet again, fate willing so aspire to survive until then. In turn I will leave you with one task. As one adventurer…to an aspiring one.”


    Sophie wailed wordlessly and wrapped her arms tightly around herself as the rain washed her own blood all over her. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.


    “Do some reading, or learn to read if you can’t. But…learn more about history hmm? And perhaps the answers to questions you never knew will be revealed but ah!” He wiggled around as the cheers of the inquisitors on the other side of the wall echoed in the night, “I think you can figure out the rest from here, seems I’ve kept you for too long.” He bowed politely and jumped over the wall.


    He’s dead, I’ll kill him if its the last thing I do, Sophie grimaced as she bit back the pain and stood up.


    “Godfrey!” Markus’s disgusting voice echoed in the din.


    “Yes sir!” Came the response.


    “Watch out!”


    “Stop in the name of the inquisi-”


    The templar and apprentice followed up before Sophie spotted a brilliant green gout of flame illuminate the night for a second. Pull yourself together.


    “Daemon fire!”


    “I’ll handle this!”


    In a panic, Sophie clambered over to the wall and looked to see Mila trying her best to maintain a ward against the flame as the templar glowered at the direction of the escapees, the duo surrounded by the corpses of a few brigands. They’ll be fine, Sophie winced and turned back to the house only for the minotaur to reappear in the doorway, heaving with exhaustion as he gave her a knowing nod.