Author's Note

Hey, welcome to the fic. I'm glad you're here to give it a try. So I might have missed a few errors. If you do spot any, I'd very much appreciate you telling me about them.

Well, with out further a do, I present to you "A Game of Pawns and Kings". Enjoy.

Prologue

The night was dark. Usually I had the soft glow of a lantern, and the light of the moon to aid me in seeing. The tree canopy blinded the moonlight, and I had no lantern. After what I’d been used to seeing every night… I welcomed the lack of vision. It provided me with a blissful ignorance. An ignorance that I wish I had during the nightly patrols. Seeing the battlefields covered in bodies and gore gives a man a whole new meaning to reality. There were corpses upon corpses. They were so bloody and mutilated, you couldn’t tell if they were previously your ally, or if they died trying to kill you.

The only thing that made those nights bearable for so long was the time I spent dreaming. Dreaming of home. Dreaming of peace. It kept me sane, or at least, as sane as I can be.

It was a normal night patrol. Uneventful and unpleasant. The cold air bit at my cheeks through my helm. Mud stuck to my boots, and wind made the forest howl. We were surrounded by the dead, again. I did my best to ignore the bodies and screams, as did the rest of the men. As we walked, they continued through their usual banter. This time I decided to listen in, instead of ignoring them.

“Y’know, when I get home, there ain’t nothin that can stop me from drinking the tavern dry,” said Himmel. He usually snuck some sort of alcoholic drink into camp. Where he got it, no one knew, but no one cared. We could all use some ale.

“Heh, when I get home I think I might just settle down.” Roilles was big and soft. He couldn’t handle fighting. That was the only reason he was on these patrols. No enemy would reach us. Not when there was a watch camp less than two miles away.

“Sure, Roilles, as if there’s any settling down after this. You’ll prolly drink yourself to death with Himmel,” quipped another member of our party. I couldn’t tell whose voice it was. Probably one of the replacements for the men who were recently shuffled out of our team.

Malden piped up at that, always defending Roilles. “Shut your gob, Ramsey, let the man have some hope. ‘Sides, we all know that you’ll end up wanting the same thing as him. ‘Specially because you can’t hold a drink as much as Himmel here can throw a jav.”

We all chuckled. “That was ONE time! And I fuckin’ tripped!” And yet that javelin ended up behind him. I drowned out the rest of the conversation with my own thoughts.

What would I do if I were allowed to leave? I don’t even know. Travel maybe. I’d love to see what the world has to offer beyond the reach of Marlheim. Hopefully it would be better than here.

I might sail for the Merric States. I heard that the lands there are beautiful, and the relics from the past are plentiful.

Maybe I’d travel east, towards the Hincha Lands, along the old Silk Road. Perhaps I’d even buy myself some silk clothing, something nice and soft. I think my poor body deserves it after spending so long underneath my armor. I could imagine it now, such fine luxurious clothing, with reds and oranges. It would be softer than a sheep’s wool and-

My thinking time was cut short as someone smacked the back of my helm. “Oi! Anyone in there?” It was Himmel.

“What the hell, man? What do you want?” I asked, outraged. Getting smacked in the helm is far from pleasant.

“We asked you what you want to do when this is over. E’ryone else shared, so it's your turn.” He replied. I hadn’t noticed, but everyone was looking at me for an answer.

“I’d like to be alive, and if you shit stains continue blabbering instead of doing your job then we won’t be there when this over. So close your mouths and keep a lookout for anything that moves.” I technically wasn’t really in a position to order them around, but I was the best swordsman out of all of them, putting me into the leadership role. The Leadership role actually belonged to Malden, but after Steichrich... they know. I knew what I was doing, I was the only actual knight in this patrol. The others were just men-at-arms. A Mere ten peasants with swords. Or in one case, a pitchfork.

“Actually, If you’ll excuse me, I need to go relieve myself. Go on ahead, I’ll cut through the forest here to catch up with you.” In honest, I didn’t really need to go, I just wanted to be alone for a little while.

I saw Roilles form the words before his mouth moved to speak them. “Here, I’ll go with y-” I stopped him there, with a wave of my hand. The magic of obedience.

“I don’t need an escort. I can make it to a bush on my own, thank you very much. I’ll meet you on the other side of this brush.” I started away from the group. Hand on the hilt of my sword all the while. No one followed, as instructed. They left without a word.

The road I left wound around this part of the forest. So much so that on a good, bright day you could see the road on the other side. Tonight was laden with a thin fog, however. It gave me privacy. At least if you were further than fifteen feet past the treeline.

I walked happily in silence, making it halfway to through the thicket, before sitting on a fallen log. I sat there to think, and wait. It would be a little while before I needed to meet my fellows. I hated them. Maybe hate was a strong word, it was more of a general dislike of them. They all smelt no better than the bodies they spent their time with, and shared the same personalities. They were, however, the only people I could call friends.

I spent practically all of my time with them, and they were generally accepting of my presence. We all shared laughs, grief, and horror. I guess our friendship was less of our personalities mixing, and more of a bond of experiences. So I guess disliking them is wrong of me. Maybe I should treat them better. I’ll be joining with them at the bonfire at dawn, before we sleep.

Whistling. Short, sharp, and sweet. It came from the way my men should be coming in. It had to be the signal for an ambush. I would have ran with my sword unsheathed to aid my companions. Something told me not though. So instead I kept quiet and slowly moved towards the origin of the ruckus. I watched from the shadows. It was a group of bandits, no more than 30, attacking my patrol.

I had to do something, I wanted to save them, but something held me back. It wasn’t fear, or lack of will, or even me at all. It was something outside of me. Whatever it was tightly grasped my wrists and ankles with cold hands.

“Stay thy blade, for now is not your time.” The voice brought with it a cold breath upon my neck. It sent chills that shook my body. It sounded like a dead woman whispering through a dried throat.

I fought, and fought. No matter how much I tried, my limbs wouldn’t move. I couldn’t even speak. I eventually gave up and just watched the chaos. My companions had no chance at surviving. They started to fall, one by one.

Malden went first, taking an arrow for Roilles before being almost chopped in half with a mighty sword blow. I felt a pang of sorrow strike through me. After Malden were two of the newer men, who I had not come to know by name. I never did find out their names. After them went Himmel. A dagger sunk in his skull, all the way to the hilt. Another of the nameless fell with a warrior’s grace. He had potential to be a great swordsman, I saw that in his technique, but it was taken from him before he had a chance to grow it.

After that man fell, the rest surrendered. Roilles and three others threw down their swords and fell to their knees. Swords were pointed at their throats. A man, who seemed to be the leader of the bandits, walked up to the row of captured soldiers.

“I’ll make this quick,” he started, voice low and smooth, “We ain’t here for much. Only your heads.” These men were headhunters. And that can only mean that there's a bounty out for Marlheim soldiers. It made more sense for a bandit attack now, because don't carry much other then the armor they'd ruin in an attack and swords theg don't need.

I watched from the shadows as the lead headhunter told his subordinates to chop off the heads off my fellows. One by one, heads rolled. All I could do was watch. As it finally came to be Roilles’s turn, he decided to look up. He saw me in the shadows, and looked me in the eyes. He was scared. His eyes pleaded with my own, begging me to save him. And all I could do was shed tears as his head was parted from his shoulders.

The headhunters left, taking the heads of the fallen with them. I was released from my paralysis, and I fell to my knees. No words left my mouth. I just wept.

I sat there, crying, not having the will to move. Hours had passed, my sense of time being lost to me, until the sun was high in the sky. I was tired, and my eyes ached. I spent my time pondering how I had treated them, wishing I had done better. I was angry at this “Guardian Angel”, who made me watch my men die. It frustrated me, to have my freedom to die along-side my warrior kin stolen.

Instead of returning to camp immediately, I waited for a search party to find the remains of my patrol. Indeed they had come.

Not with many numbers, but more than enough to get me back safely. It was a more prestigious team. One with many knights, and a few men-at-arms for petty labor.

“Knight! What happened here? Who did this?” The man’s voice carried authority, and he spoke as if he were a courtier. A noble born, it seemed.

“It was headhunters, Sir.” I mumbled, not having the energy to speak.

“Speak louder, Knight. I have not the ears of a dog.” His voice carried distaste. I was tired, and just wanted to find a bed. So I stood, and raised my voice loud enough to be heard.

“We were attacked by headhunters, Sir. Thirty of them, well experienced, and professional.” I kept my gaze on his boots. I didn’t want to make eye contact, because I could already feel his scowl.

“How is it that you were attacked by headhunters, yet your head remains on your shoulders?”

I paused before answer, selecting my words carefully. “I went to relieve myself, and was hidden in the shadows when my patrol was attacked.”

“Why did you not rush to aid them? Were your feet so heavy in fear that they would not move?” He mocked. I was in no particular mood for his attitude. I walked up to him, bringing my helm close to his, close enough to where I could see eyes clearly through the slits.

“I am only one man! Nothing I could do would save my men. I am far more useful to this army alive, than dead!” I yelled, vexed by his judgemental questioning. More than anything, I was frustrated with having to lie. I wish I could have told the truth, but who would believe that a supernatural force held me back?

“What use is a man who will not draw upon his sword when the time comes? A coward who see’s in numbers, but not skill? Frightened by a group of thirty peasants with a will.” He looked me in the eyes briefly before walking past me, making sure to bump me with his shoulder. “Come, we are to make it back to camp before the sun falls again. It would not do to make Lord Titus wait for our return. What is your name, Knight?”

I responded truthfully. “Corrick of Esterfell.” It was then, that I noticed the special marking on his shoulder plate. A marking reserved for Lord Titus’s elite guard. A position that could only be earned through exemplary service in combat. Not even the highest of nobles could obtain it through birthright. There was no nepotism to be had amongst our elite warrior class.

We walked back with no words, or important events. There were many times I had almost fallen out of exhaustion, but whenever I were to stumble another knight would help to keep me standing.

Upon our return, I was given a chance to rest. I didn’t hesitate to fall in my cot, not even taking my armor off, and do my damnedest to forget what happened last night. I hoped to dream of home again, maybe even of traveling. It didn’t go so well though, as I could only dream of sorrow and blood. My last chance of temporal escape was now gone. No longer could I dream of home.

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I was awoken the next morning to a servant, shaking me awake and offering a piece of bread. “Sir Corrick? I have been ordered to escort you to Commander Encilius’s tent immediately. I know you’ll have to skip the breaking of fast, so I snuck a piece of bread for you. Sir Encilius seems quite upset, so I wouldn’t dawdle.”

“Thank you. I appear to be ready now. Let us be on our way.” I said, as I held my helm under my arm and munched on the bread, thankful for it not being stale like it usually was.

As we made our way to the Commander’s tent, I noticed that a couple of knights would shoot me a glare every now and then. It reminded me of how I could do nothing to save my men, as I watched them die. I was no longer hungry after seeing Roilles look me in the eyes again. I dropped what was left of the bread and donned my helmet once more. I was quite aware of what cowards were forced to do, under Titus’s command.

Sir Encilius’s tent was similar to those that surrounded it, though noticeably larger. In front of it banners of the Marlheim colors, yellow and white, flew in the wind. Two guards stood specifically by the entrance to the tent. More of the elite knights, like the man from yesterday, but bound to Sir Encilius instead.

“Well, Sir… Lord Encilius is waiting for you inside the tent. I wish you luck in your meeting with the Commander.” With that the servant bowed and left. He seemed too young to be in a camp with warriors, but who was I to assume age.

I walked through the tent flaps to be greeted by the sight of Lord Encilius, adorned in his golden armor, speaking with the other high ranking officers of the camp. The were all huddled over a map, possibly strategizing their next move. I, of course being the lowly knight that I am, waited until I was addressed. They all shook their heads in agreement before everyone but Encilius left.

“Ah, Corrick of Esterfell I presume? Serving under Titus’s banner, yes?” He asked. His voice spoke of wisdom and battle hardiness. I felt honored to even be in his presence.

“Yes, Lord Encilius. It is an honor to meet you.”

“Wrong, you serve under me now, understood? Kneel, please, so I can knight you a vassal of my authority.” I was confused. I already served under Lord Titus. Could I even change my loyalty without his consent?

“Sir, I- is this even allowed? I haven’t been released of my vassalage to Lord Titus.”

“Knight, you were relieved of your duties the moment Titus’s men found you among your dead fellows. If you want to continue living, and not be executed for treason, you will kneel.”

No choice was given to me, as my body assumed a kneeling position on it’s own. The cold grip came back, and my guardian angel forced me down. Encilius said nothing as he laid the flat of his blade on each of my shoulders. I would have kneeled regardless, but it seems that matters of life and death are beyond my choice.

Once the process was complete I stood back to my feet, this time of my own accord. “Thank you, Sir Encilius. What is my assignment?”

“You are to follow me into battle on my next campaign. With my army, we are to march into the heart of Aristian Highlands. You will be commanding a troop of 30 on the front lines.” The heart of the Aristian Highlands. Those words rang in my ears. The capital city of Aristia is nearly a two hundred mile march from here. Two hundred miles of the toughest soldiers in all of Europe. This campaign would be long, and arduous. “Understood, Knight?”

“Yes, Sir. When shall we depart?”

“Tomorrow morn, at dawn. Is your equipment in decent shape?” I would not be there tomorrow. No way in hell. I had already started thinking of ways to escape.

“Yes, Sir. All of my equipment is in perfect condition.” Step one was to save my food from dinner. I would need it much more over the week or so of travel needed to get away from this war, and return home.

“Perfect. Is there anything at all that you may need to be ready to leave tomorrow?” I would need water too.

“Perhaps a few flasks of water? I’ve been terribly dehydrated as of late.” He wasn’t suspect at all to the request. It did make sense too, as I actually haven’t had any water since the eve before my last patrol.

“Here, take this notice of requisition to my Quartermaster General, he’ll supply you with sufficient amount of water flasks. Anything else?” He smiled a genuine smile. That was a rarity in these days. It was something that made me hope he would be successful in his campaign. The world needs genuine people.

“No, Sir, I should be fine. Thank you.” I didn’t ask for anything else, so as to not raise any suspicion. The thought of asking him for a horse, a map, and direction to the farthest town from here made me chuckle a little though.

“Good, you are hereby dismissed to do as you please until you are needed tomorrow morning.” I bowed and started to leave, before Encilius put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Oh, and one more thing…” He handed me a dagger in an ornate sheath. Gilden with fancily placed gold. “Take care of your men this time around, please. Your bunk area is close to watch station forty, near the stables.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” I bowed once more, and left. Now that I was free, I decided to first stop and retrieve the water from the Quartermaster General. He set up shop near his lord’s tent, as is custom, and wasn’t hard to spot at all. I mean, no other area in this part of the war camp would have so many supplies stockpiled so openly.

It was a matter of walking mere yards to speak with him. The Quartermaster General under the house Encilius was a large black skinned man, with an exotic accent and a grey beard. The expression on his face seemed to speak of an unfading attitude of grumpiness.

He eyed me walking up to him, and before I could ask about the water, he spoke up. “Titus’s men get supplies from Titus’s Quartermaster. I have no business with you.” He looked down an inventory list of sorts for a few moments.

“Actually, Sir, I serve under Lord Encilius now, and have obtained a requisition order from him.” I gave him the note, and spoke once more. “I need a few water flasks for my case of dehydration.”

“Ah, it is the so-called coward I have heard of. I know what troubles you, and I can see it.” He said, before pulling a small crate full of water bottles from the pile of supplies. “Drink from these waters alone, and you will be fine. Do not refill them on your own, come see me for more clean water should you need it.” I thanked him, not making note of his strangely detailed words.

Crate in hand, I walked towards my bunking area, following the smell of hay and horses. This was a perfect setup for an escape. Readily available horses, a supply of water and soon food. Now this was all a game of patience, and attention to detail, as I waited for Nightfall.

In the spare time I had left, I checked over my equipment and napped, knowing the long night that may come. In my nap I dreamt of poor Roilles, staring up into my eyes as I could do nothing. Nightmares haunted me, over and over before I awoke with a shout, sweating profusely all over my cot. Surprisingly, no one came to answer my distress. I guess nightmares and screaming are all too common around here.

The night sky reigned over all, as I covered myself with my bedsheet cloak. I had my messenger bag full of supplies and whatever coin I could find. It was time to leave.

Quietly, I exited my tent and did my best to not awaken any of those who slept around me. They had all drunken themselves to sleep with contraband whiskey. No wonder I was put in charge of these schmucks. When I had first greeted them they ignored my presence all together, and shrugged me off whenever I spoke to them.

Ever so slowly, I made my way to the stables. I kept a keen watch for the night guards who lurked across the camp. Not a soul was near me. Upon sighting the building of interest, my nostrils were fouled by the scent of horse excrement and other such smells. Someone wasn’t taking care of their horses properly.

Opening the gate into the stables, I stepped in. No torchlight or any other annoyances that might have given away my position. Quickly I opened all of the stalls, and jumped on the brownest horse to match the color of my cloak. My plan was to deceive the stablemen into thinking that all of the horses had somehow gotten loose, while I rode away hugging the back of my horse closely to blend in with its hide. If I was lucky enough, they’d just let my horse go if it got far enough.

“Hya!” I whisper yelled. It was different from what the horse may have been used to, but it got the message. Galloping it insane speeds my horse vanished into the night, along with many other horses who lacked the drive mine had. Soon it became apparent that my horse also had a will to leave, and I had chosen wisely. I rode on throughout the night, and the next day, only stopping for the horses rest and to stretch my own legs.

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It had been several hours of travel, now midday, and I was tired of avoiding roads. It was a good way to avoid any patrols that may roam out here, but it was exhausting for my horse. For the last half an hour or so, I rode near the roads to see if I could find any traveller to tell me whether it was even necessary to avoid them anymore.

After a little bit of searching, I did eventually come across what seemed to be a merchant without a caravan. Strange as it was, these were desperate times, and many will lose their minds in exasperation trying to be successful here. I did indeed stop to ask the question that had been burning in my mind.

“Good evening, Sir. Would you mind telling me if there are any soldiers patrolling these lands?” I questioned. I worded it carefully, hoping that he wouldn’t catch on to me being a deserter, perhaps even mistaking me for a courier of sorts.

“Why, hello there, good sir. To answer your question in short, no. All the soldiers have been hunkering down in the larger, more strategic cities. Building up defenses, stocking up on food and all that. Say, could you help in escorting me and my wagon up to a camp up ahead? You see, a wheel broke earlier, and my caravan went ahead without me.” What caravan doesn’t leave at least one guard to escort a straggler? I didn’t like the way he looked at me either, that smile of his was hiding something. Something with... malicious intent. No, he’d have to get to this supposed ‘camp’ alone.

“I’m afraid I cannot assist you, as I have urgent business in the next town.” I said, trying to fool him with my words. He just smiled and looked at me. I finally noticed how his eyes lacked any hint of color, and was taken aback. His smile also revealed rotten and bloodied teeth. It sickened me, to say the least.

“Urgent business? You mean running away from the war, deserter? From your fellow knights?” he smiled as he said it, thinking he could try to coerce me into following him with an insult to my honor. I have none anyhow, as I gave up that privilege. I unsheathed my sword and pointed it at his throat. The tip close enough to brush against his scraggly beard. I’d had enough of this wolf in sheep's clothing.

“Listen, creature, I will not be prey to your tricks. You will head up to your camp without saying a word about me or to me, or I’ll seperate your head from your body, understood?” He shot me a dirty glare, before turning to face the roads ahead of him. He urged his horse to pull the wagon onwards, leaving me to ride the opposite way.

“Too bad you are already cursed with something deeper than any harm I could bring to you.” He said, almost challenging me to keep true to my promise. I decided that, since he was leaving anyways, it wouldn't be worth killing him over.

Humph, the notion that I cared for those I left behind was humorous. The soldiers could all rot with their fellows’ corpses. The war had turned them savage. Many of them hollowed by the violence they’d witnessed. They never even took their hands off of their swords, unless to eat or lower their trowsers to shit.

It wasn’t their fault they’d become monsters. Perhaps if the commanders would give them a day to rest, or ale to ease their minds. “No... Marlheim needs vigilant soldiers, not a bunch of intoxicated fools,” is how they would usually respond when questioned. With the way they’d been treated by their superiors, and the way they had to live, it was no surprise to watch them become monsters. I doubt a single one of them had a sliver of a memory of what it was like to be human. I wonder if I still know what it's like to be human?

Two hours after the encounter with the bandit merchant, it finally dawned on me that the only thing I regretted about abandoning my fellows was forgetting to grab a map. I’d forgotten the way home, and didn’t recognize my surroundings at all. After six years, nothing looks the same. Any chance at finding my way back had been lost with time. The only thing I could do now is watch the signs for directions, and hope I’d know the town that was mentioned.

By the time the sun had more than set, I was still in that forest, and my horse was visibly tired. It’s head hanging low, and it’s breathing heavy. The countless hours of galloping and walking had finally caught up to it. I decided to dismount, and lead it into the forest a little ways, to make camp. It was a good time anyways, as my head also hung heavy with the same invisible weight as my horse.

In my search for a nice area to make camp, I had come across a creek. I figured my horse could use some water, so I let it drink the running water in front of me. I also drank from that creek, convincing myself to do so on the premise that water from here is water from my rations saved. As I drank, my thirst seemed unquenchable. I lowered my head to get more and more of the water. The water’s faint allure almost nudging me to dunk my entire head into it. I would have too, had I not recoiled from the sudden and foul bitterness that tainted the water’s flavor.

I paused to ponder the strangeness of this creek. Looking to my side to see if the horse tasted it too, I noticed that it was gone. Panic spread over me then, as if the cold chill of the night had crept through my apparel. No trace of my horse ever existing remained. Not even it’s hoof prints in the mud.

I looked back down to the tainted creek to see that it had turned red. Bile burned the back of my throat as I turned my head upstream to see countless bodies. All mutilated and bloody. It looked as if they had followed me from the frontlines. I couldn’t hold back the torrent of vomit that came as I turned my vision a little left of the mound of corpses to see a child impaled on a pike. He was disemboweled, his own entrails wrapped around him like a rope.

The vomit itself came out fleshy and red. I had not eaten meat in days. I could only guess as to what the chunks were, almost vomiting a second time at the thought.

In a daze, I tried to stumble my way back to the road. There were screams around me. Such wretched screams. It felt as my ears would start bleeding. I covered them and did my best to ignore the screams, trudging further in the way I thought the road was. It seemed as if I was wrong or the road was gone, and the screams grew nearer, now in my ears. They told me to save them, or to put them out of their misery. Lord, It was as if they were in my ear drums, they screeched so loud.

My head pounded with an ache, and the horizon around me lit orange with a bright, hot fire. It was then that I finally fell, after stumbling for what seemed like hours. My legs had given out, feeling numb and cold. My thoughts shifted to death, as I rolled to my back. I slowly started to lose feeling in my fingers. The numbness quickly spread to my hands, then my arms, not stopping until I could no longer feel anything. It felt as if my heart had stopped. I could no longer breath as my body decided to shut down.

From the edge of my vision, I could see the black skinned Quartermaster General picking up a water flask from my bag. “I warned you.” He said, the ringing in my ears distorting his words. “Relax now, your worries in this world are over. Bodily harm is no longer your problem.”

I looked back up to see the sky swirling with nauseating colors and sobbed. In my final moments, I prayed to God, hoping he’d forgive me for my sins. With a final cry, my consciousness left me alone, and blackness became my world.