The first thing that came to Drack’s mind as he stood in front of the village of kearth wasn’t to warn the people. No, it was the aromas that wafted from the shops and street vendors. There were other smells but they couldn’t compare to the smell of food. Of Cooking bread, rice, and meat, and not just some slab of flesh placed atop a fire and left to roast but meat prepared with spices and mixed with flavorful juices.

How long had it been since Drack had last eaten something with any sort of savoriness to it?

Arnfried must’ve felt the hunger and desire as well but he kept his head on the task. Better to enjoy all that food in a village not flooded with blood Drack supposed, so he curbed his desires.

“Come on. Let’s hurry up.” 

Kearth had no gate or barricade. Just a simple stone road leading into it. There were a few guards though. Stationed around the first few buildings leading into the city. Drack saw three by one building not too far off to the left. They were sat around an old wooden table playing some sort of dice game, content smiles plastered on their faces. Others simply lounged on the porches, and some who took their jobs more seriously stood by the buildings, straight and still like statues.

Drack could hear the sounds of people, of humanity not too far off. The vague laughter of children, or indescribable voices of salesmen, shoppers, or maybe people simply talking to their companions. It filled Drack with dread. Oh, how he wished the village was empty, abandoned.

Arnfried on the other hand became more determined. There were people that needed saving, that he was sure of now. Aoife who had been fallowing along silently retreated to one of the buildings, hiding behind it. She’d be good backup in case things went south. It had become an automatic habit, something Altair had recommended since she wasn’t so good at head on confirmation. 

Drack nodded, and Arnfried finally called out to the guards, but it came out all crackly and was quick to fade into a whisper. Drack gave him a slap on the back.

“Gotta use your chest if you wanna be heard.” 

Arnfried gave him a look before nodding slowly. He opened his mouth and screamed out, calling the guards. It was so loud that Drack nearly tripped, it was that startling.

“Not that loud, Arnfried.” Drack stressed. “You wanna be heard by the whole village?” 

Either way it worked. The guards who were sat around the table approached them, their old spears brandished. Drack’s hand instinctively itched for the short sword tied to his waist but he refrained. No need to raise tensions even more.

“You’re not from around here.” One of the guards, a man in his twenties, said with obvious caution.

“No, we are not.” Drack replied. “And I’m guessing you don’t like outsiders.” 

“No, not really. They’re usually nothing but trouble.” 

How ironic, Drack thought bitterly. 

He stifled a sigh. There was no point in sugarcoating it. “Me and my friend here have come to see whoever is in charge of this village.” 

“For what reason?” A guard to the side with a shaved head asked.

“We come with demands from our Grand Captain.” 

There was a long pause.

“Under whose authority does this Grand Captain of yours act?” One of the guards finally spat.

The air was becoming heavier and heavier with each word exchanged, and Drack could see Arnfried constantly shifting his weight on both feet. A thought planted itself into Drack’s mind. Would he die in the next moments? 

Arnfried seemed as useful as a twig in a sword fight. And these guards seemed to be on the precipice of something. Drack steadied himself before speaking his next words, his mind occupied with the thought of his sword and feet, and running should things turn for the worse.

A man had to be a lot of things after all, even a cowardly dog who ran with tail between both legs. 

“Under King Zaraxima’s Authority, does our Grand Captain Altair act.” 

The words were uttered, and nobody moved or breathed. It was as if time had stopped momentarily. The stillness was quickly broken by a sound made by one of the guards. A groan, a sound full of something between despair and fatigue. 

“P-proof.” One of the guards stuttered. “Where’s your proof?” 

“Please, you have to listen to us.” Arnfried begged. “The Grand Captain with his company of over a hundred will run this village to the ground unless we return with results.” 

“Over a hundred?” The guard in his twenties muttered in disbelief. 

“We need to see whoever's in charge so we can come to an arrangement quickly.” Drack said, trying to sound as if things weren’t as bad as they were.

One of the guards nodded slowly, turning on his feet towards the village. “This better not be a prank or we’ll thrush you two good, you hear?” 

He was gone the next moment. Stumbling his way up the village. Leaving Arnfried and Drack in the company of all those guards. They all looked sullen.

What expressions will their face wear when they hear our demands? Drack thought. Give us most of your food, clothes, and other useful shit, and continue living your merry lives.

But from the looks of it, they didn’t have much to give based on their old spears and worn leather armor. Drack didn’t like this at all. Not one single bit.

So why did I agree to all of this? Why haven’t I left? 

Around ten minutes later, the guard returned with a very tall woman, nearly standing at 6 feet. She seemed to be in her late forties, and her braided black hair had lines of white in them. Drack guessed that it was from both age and stress. Her eyes didn’t show it though. They were fierce red eyes that seemed to pierce right through Drack.

His Cat-like left ear twitched as she cast her gaze upon him. A deep frown lining her mouth. “They send children to negotiate with us?” She muttered in irritation. 

Drack gave a quick bow with his head. “My Captain means no disrespect by it, ma’am.” he said, trying to soothe things out. “He’s… busy right now.”

Busy drinking and gambling but busy nonetheless. 

“And I'm guessing all the other adults are busy as well, young man?” 

Of course, they’re busy sharpening their weapons to easily lop heads off. Drack nearly spat that out but he managed to keep his mouth in check.

“Adults tend to have a lot of responsibilities in our company.” Drack lied instead. “And us younger people tend to have more time so the Captain sent us.”  

The tall woman took a breath to calm herself down. All her agitation seemed to wash away, and Drack was glad for a moment, then he realized he had yet to list their demands. Few yet so daunting. 

“My name is Rawiya.” She said, her red eyes looking at the nervous Arnfried, and the much more composed yet ready to run Drack.  “I’m Azyuhy to this village.” 

It meant something along the lines of protector, or guardian. Though Drack had come to learn that these people didn’t have as much fight in them as their title implied over the course of the many years sacking villages and towns. 

Drack bowed again. “I’m humbled to be in your presence, Rawiya Isma.” he said, using the highest, and most appropriate honorific he could think of.

“No need for that archaic-like talk, boy. What is your name?” 

Drack felt like a terrible liar. He wanted it to seem like it was common for their company to do this whole negotiating thing instead of just burning down and killing whatever was in their way, but he’d come off a little bit too stiff. Times had changed, and important people no longer spoke like they did in those old books he read back in the day. Drack decided to stick to the bit, just toned down a bit.

“My name is Drack.” He said before gesturing to Arnfried who still stood by his side, quiet and nervous. “And this here is my companion Arnfried.”

She nodded for him to continue. And drack decided to be succinct since he didn’t have much time to spare before men came charging down the hill. Just Half an hour of time.

“Our company was sent out under the justice of High King Zaraxima.” He said. “We’ve been on a journey for… a very long time and are low on resources. That and we seek the Bastard son who might be taking refuge in this village.”

The Azyuhy’s brows furrowed. “We’ll give up every refugee we received this past year for inspection and questioning… How much resources do you need.”

Drack could’ve said half or made up some other lie but he knew Captain Altair too well. He’d want most if not everything. He had to be realistic. Truthful. No choice. 

So Drack spoke. “Most of what you have.” 

Silence. 

“Most?!” Rawiya asked. “Does it look like we can give most of our resources, does it boy?” 

“How could you demand something like this from us?” one of the guards spoke, his voice straining. “How can you, when you know that another of the king’s company took most of what we had a mere month ago.” 

What? Drack thought. That he most definitely did not know. These people expected such professionalism in the King’s men. Expected all the companies to keep in touch about their whereabouts and movement. Unfortunately most of these men were hired mercenaries. After all, it would be unwise for a king to scatter out most of his fighting men. It would make it too easy for his enemies to stab him In the back.

Drack hadn't expected for another company to have come this way already, but he should’ve. How could he have forgotten? Drack had been blinded by Arnfried’s optimism and the prospect of preventing bloodshed that he’d forgotten. The king hadn’t just sent out one company of mercenaries but many, mostly in the north but there were others scattered across the world. 

But what was their company supposed to do, turn around and leave? No they’d get what they needed through fire and blood. 

“I- I understand that this is difficult.” Drack stammered, realizing that everything was crumbling. “But we cannot continue our journey without food, clothes, water-”

“We gave everything to the last company. Find. Another. Village to extort.” Rawiya said through gritted teeth. 

“We-” 

“I said find another!”

“My Captain will not!” snapped Drack. He looked for Arnfried for assistance but the boy shied back uncomfortably. He grit his teeth and turned his eyes back to the tall women. “My Captain will raise this village to the ground if that's what it takes.” 

He made the choices obvious. Which do you prefer, your resources or your lives? 

Rawiya looked at Drack, saw the short sword tied to his waist, thought better of it, and pointed at Arnfried. One of the guards snatched him, holding him tight, constraining his arms. The young boy tried to struggle but Another guard raised a spear to his neck, putting his futile attempts to rest. Drack was ready to run, no regrets. Arnfried had begun this whole thing yet he… If Drack was a coward then what was Arnfried? 

“I grow sick and tired of negotiating with a foolish child, and one in a constant state of fright!” Rawiya said. “Fetch your Captain. I want to talk to him myself. I’m sure he’ll be more reasonable”

Drack almost laughed at that, but nodded defeatedly, knowing that Rawiya would not hear another word come out of his mouth. Drack began stepping back quickly. He would not give them the chance to stab him in the back. Once he reached the edge of the village he signaled Aoife to not do anything reckless before he turned around and began running up the hill. His anger and frustration grew with each passing second. Things never worked out. Things always ended the same so why did he keep trying? A man had to learn eventually, Drack’s uncle liked to say but how come he couldn’t?

Eventually, the top of the Hill came into view. Drack saw Captain Altair and Limlic sat there. Drack’s eyes met with the Grand Captain’s green eyes. And as if he could read Drack’s every thought, Altair’s lips curled up before they parted, revealing rows of straight yellow teeth.