Somewhere at the Path…

The cold breeze howled through the old, forsaken road, its path unused and treacherous to walk upon with no way telling the end of their destination. A long row of soldiers tread the icy frost and snow, their features masked behind spared scarves and torn rags. It was not enough to keep themselves warm throughout the night.

The journey itself was uneventful progress, intense by their state of condition. What was left of the legion were all but scattered remnants from a multitude of companies, banded for survival. While they made their silent march, the men could have sworn to hear whispers in the forest. They were surrounded by black-rotten trees from both sides with clawlike branches that came close to grab them. The sight unnerved them, and the uneasiness made the men fought all the harder to leave the place as quickly as possible.

Most of the men were on edge, miserably cold and stiff with no chance for respite. Uneasy thoughts lingered to some of the soldiers, thinking of their fallen comrades left and exposed to the forest. There was little time to bury. Little time to mourn everyone. They did what they could to honour their memories and collected their tags before they left. 

Some prayed for forgiveness, hoping the dead find some comfort or peace. Others remained ignorant, carrying out their duties as a form of distraction. Yet a few, who faced every horror unimaginable in the war, sought to make a break for it.

Many desertions had been on the rise since the closing stages of the war. With foul Scarlet resorted to cruel, despicable machinations, morale plummeted at an all-time low, and good men fell to selfish means. Not even the legion was spared as few to almost an entire company turned their backs on the Empire. They became renegades, bandits, pillaging the villages that were liberated by the Empire. This brought the eternal animosity of the Partishans and brought down the traitors with brutal force.

Yet even if the dissenters managed to succeed escaping from the tight leashes of the Empire, what then? Where would they go? They knew their world was gone, jumped into a realm of winter nightmare. Death was almost certain if they were separated from the leading group, unsure of the unknown dangers in this alien world.

Despite several setbacks to their achievements, the dissenters remained adamant. They put their thoughts of rebellion aside to follow their cruel masters, waiting, confiding their chance when the time was right.

Up from the foothill, the leading matriarch of Blue Jay company looked down upon her men with a cold, hard look. She stood vigil in her charge, regal in her powder-blue armour with the brush of onyx and white. Whatever emotions she kept, she masked her features well, utterly stoic that define the House of Vera. She could not afford any weakness at this moment or any moment at that matter. Such disgrace was improper and left a strong impression on her troops. Even to the point of mutiny.

Valice knew what few of the legionnaires were thinking about behind her back. She could almost hear them whispering in the dark like plague of vermin. While she was fortunate that her father's company were outright loyal and obedient, others were not so blessed by it. The very idea that her own men could turn spelled doom not only to her life but to the lives of everyone. A unified force must be maintained and strengthened to confront the unspeakable horrors that they have yet to face. In time, she would have her moment to deal with the dissension once her forces positioned themselves in a secure environment. If she could manage to succeed, that is.

As a learner of intrigue and warfare, Valice had no possible way to predict the outcome that had befallen her. A hint of rage spilled over her features, her brows furrowed. She was not mad at the men, but at herself. There was someone that she cared back at home. A promise that she made to her little brother. She swore that once the war was over, she would be at her brother's side to lead House Vera in all its manner of glory. Now it seemed that she would not keep her promise. She was stuck in this world, trapped with no means of return.

The thought saddened her for a moment as Valice closed her eyes. She breathed in the cold, crisp air and let it out with a sigh.

“This weather is going to be our grave," a voice, aged by the years, called out behind her. Valice slowly opened her eyes and turned to see old man Oraas, miserable in the cold like the rest. She could tell his sour mood as bits of snow fell on his wrinkled-white features.

Oraas sneezed, sniffed and spat a garble on the ground. “If we do not find shelter soon, we would surely be dead within a day or so," he stated. It was not fear in the old man's voice, but merely a statement of fact, impertinent and out of the hearing range of the soldiers. That brutal honesty was the reason that her father liked him so much.

The lady made a sound in her lips to which Oraas guessed to be a light chuckle. In a moment of privacy, Valice smiled to him and only him. The one person she trusted the most.

“Your all heart, Oraas," she said, shaking her head, her smile retained a bit of warmth. “Have faith in the eyes of our scouts. The goshawks have never failed to spot their claim."

“I do not doubt their eyes," Oraas said, rubbing his hands together. “I doubt their confirmation. I could hardly fathom that anyone would settle in this painful area."

One of the goshawk scouts uncovered a small village, a hamlet, not far from their location. On closer inspection, the scout claimed the place abandoned, deserted of life. By her estimation, she would arrive at the hamlet in less than half a day. Shorter if the troops forced to march without rest.

“Neither can I for that matter," Valice said, agreeing with Oraas' statement. She turned to look down on the men. For three years she stood beside her father's Blue Jays. She fought and bled beside them in a hundred or more battles that raged across the Empire.

“And yet, we will take our chances," she added, commitment lifted her tired features. “It would be a start, and we will salvage this mess no matter the situation. If there are signs of life in the hamlet. If they proved untenable to cooperate… Then we will do what we must."

Oraas could hear the strain in Valice's voice and understood in a split of a second. He did not need to know the rest. In war, everything and everyone was expendable, and tough decisions have to be made in the name of victory.

Unlike her father, Valice was more compassionate to her men and the livelihood of others. Oraas had spent his life with her since Valice was but a child, and it grieved him to see her suffer. The lives lost and ruined. The homes burnt to a cinder. All of them did by her decision, and he could see the pain through her like an open book. And yet, instead of feeling pitiful, the commandant felt never more proud of her. He saw in Valice the same as her father, strong and tall with the goodness of her heart. If she had command him to storm the enemy stronghold, he would do so in a heartbeat.

The two remained quiet on top of the hill, observing the troops beat a tired march on the forgotten path. Oraas was about to begin for another subject when he heard the crunch of snow from behind. A massive figure, taller than either of the two, stepped forward with each significant step. Its body wrapped entirely from top to bottom in white, ornate armour with signs of battle marks caused by war.

Oraas stepped back a little, not by fear, but making room to avoid the giant's halberd close to his face. Its weapon was of the same craft as its armour, elegant to behold and powerful enough to slice a man in two. He could not tell the giant's features, hidden behind its helm. He could almost swear its eyes glowed practically blue.

"I see progress are due in course," the voice was of a man, low and deep, yet soft with a courteous manner. With a slight bow of his head, he rose to stare at Oraas and then to Valice. "Commandant. Lady Valice."

Oraas returned the gesture in kind while Valice displayed none of it. She was careful not to show her hand to them, squeezing tight to almost a fist.

Everyone, both friend and foe, has heard the deeds of the Partishans, Knights of the Floral White. Relentless throughout the war, they were instrumental that brought the end of the Scarlet and other rebellious factions. Yet for all of their talent, they weren't as popular among their allies. Especially to the Legion. Some even given a name to them which hasn't faded up to now. The Pale Knight.

"It is an honour to be at your present, Grand Callus," Oraas said, recognizing the voice. "I have heard by one of your kinsfolk that your injuries were only minor? I am glad it wasn't serious "

Callus turned to meet him and made a sound of laughter, amused. He was unlike the other knights as Oraas knew him well in person. While most knights were on the field, few stayed to excel their influence behind the war table. Formulated plans and a good strategy were like mathematics to him, and he revelled at each challenge.

It had been long since Oraas remembered the knight and his newly acquired position. Late in the war, Callus was the second hand under Grand Partishan Macius, a peerless warrior of fierce conviction. When his time came for Macius at Whitehall Ridge, Callus claimed the title and lead his knights since.

Callus clasped one freehand on the helmet, removing the headpiece to reveal the moniker of the name. His skin was pale as the snow from the ground, smooth and refine. Even his hair was white, plainly short. He had general features with eyes deep as blue.

"That is a statement to be of light," Callus said, a small smile crept on his lips. "Though the wounds may seem nonexistent, I'm sure my deaden foe came close to the goal. If but a slight."

"Why have you come, knight?" Valice interrupted, betrayed a hint of bitterness in her tone. She didn't turn to meet the knight and emphasized the last word as an insult.

If Callus displayed any emotion or heard the strain on her voice, he ignored it. Instead, he remained smiling, showing his pearly white teeth. "Forgive for the intrusion, Lady Valice," he said, bowing his head. "But I have come to let you know in person that I forward a couple of my knights upon the hamlet. While I am sure that your men would no doubt claim the place without a problem, it would not hurt to check if there are any... anomalies that we might not know."

Valice considered to decline the offer right there and now, not needing the knights for the task. Instead, she decided to remain silent. She understood as much of their stubborn nature to interfere with the lives of everyone. Additionally, even if she could, her words hold little power over them. They were the eyes and ears of the Empire, enforcers and butchers both. Their words were the words of the Savior, and she could do nothing but to remain compliant. 

"I… Thank you for the contribution," Valice said weakly. When she had nothing else to say, Oraas took the sign to speak in turn.

"Will you be joining us once we reach our destination, grand knight?" The commandant asked, full of polite respect. "Your insight on the defences would be most appreciative at this matter? I fear that the inhabitants from the hamlet, if they're any left, have done a poor job to keep themselves from harm."

Callus didn't say for several minutes. He pondered, considering the offer before he made a decision. "It is unfortunate to say this, but I must decline, commandant. I am needed elsewhere. While you have few of my knights to secure the hamlet, the rest and I will scour the outer area. Even here, in this strange place, we must keep vigilant for any dangers."

"So? It is true then? We are in a realm, unlike our own?" Oraas asked and spat a muttered curse at their predicament.

"Yes, and not all the better," Callus said, his eyes and features hardened. "There is… Something foul in this place. Not only here, but far to the distant. Faint and insidious. I can confirm this. Here and now. Whatever that vile Scarlet did, we are long away from home."

Oraas fell utterly silent, the news didn't provide any comfort. If the knight spoke true, in which they were rarely wrong, that meant the legion had no possible way to return home. Trapped like an animal in a cage. He glanced at the corner of his eye towards Valice, her back turned to conceal her emotion.

"If you require my assistance, feel free to summon me at your leisure." the pale knight continued, clasping his helmet back on. He patted his breastplate in a salute. "In the Savior's name."

Oraas cleared his throat and returned the gesture. "And to you, sir knight. Impart from memory."

Callus nodded, pleased and turned to depart as the armoured giant faded from the distant. As the commandant was sure the knight was far from hearing range, Oraas shifted to Valice, sighing.

"We need him, little blue," Oraas said softly but betrayed seriousness in his tone. "If we are to survive, a unified force must be absolute. He alone has the influence to keep his kin under control," he paused. "Given our uneasy history with him, I understand how hard it is to cope."

Valice slowly met him, her eyes cold and full of rage. "Of all the knights, why him?" she asked with vehemence, squeezing her hands tighter. She did notice the blood as her nails dug deep to her skin. "Any knight, I will tolerate. But that thing deserves none of it. Have you forgotten what he has done to us?"

Oraas didn't respond and craned his head low. It was not several seconds later that he spoke. "Vividly," he said, crept a sad smile. He breathed deep of the air and let it all out. "Vividly and posthumously. Yet, a duty must be kept. No matter the pain, little blue, I will keep you safe. That is an oath I will not break."

Valice studied the old man and scowled seconds later. She could feel her father's burden weighed even further as Oraas continued with a gesture.

"Your men need orders, milady. Shall we head out?"

==--== 

Half a dozen volunteers of Jays and Cardinals proceeded to advance onto the hamlet, their trained eyes vigil for hostile movement. Upon their reach on the entrance, the men wasted no time and dispersed for a full sweep of the area. Their movement betrayed no hint of a misstep, no moment of delay with arms primed and ready. One of the troopers kicked the door open, his musket raised with familiar reflex. He swerved his weapon from left to right, eyeing the interior of the building before he moved on to the next.

Partishan Simr Lars glowered as he and two fellow knights stood in watch of the soldiers. The hamlet was in a state of ruin, houses fell by time as sickly black roots of the forest conquered the area. There was not much left to salvage from their plight, but Lars would still claim the hamlet as such for Grand Callus.

Already, the knights sensed the taint of corruption just at the outskirts of the hamlet, more oppressive than even the forest itself. He could feel the darkness coiled around his chest like a serpent, but they pressed on despite the pain. It would take a while for them to get used to the destructive powers that damned the place. They would purify and banished the wickedness one area at a time.

"You feel it, don't you?" Lars started, his voice strained by the dark powers invading him. He knew that they could hear him just as they knew they sensed it. "Its powers are alien to us, and yet it holds a slight similarity to the Scarlet menace."

The knights exchanged glances at each other and then at him, wordless and silent. A moment later, the two grunted in reply, their voices trailed with disgust.

Lars smiled behind his helmet. "My thoughts exactly," he said, nodding with affirmation. "Where power lay, the source still stands dormant. Let's not waste any time."

The Knights entered at the front of the hamlet, halberds ready. They paid little heed to the soldiers nor the effort to listen to their warnings. Like hounds caught on a blood-scent, they followed the path until they came to stumble upon a large structure, a longhouse, that stood on a small ridge.

The two went first into the longhouse, halberds ready. Cautiously, they roam to investigate each room before one of them called out, the area safe and secure. Lars ambled, taking a moment to inspect the interior of the building. The longhouse was empty, littered with the stuff of snow and black-tainted roots like the rest of the place. Any valuables were stripped clean, leaving only a reminder of the inhabitants' downfall. Whoever or whatever that dwelt in the hamlet were long gone before they arrived.

"Have you found the source?" Lars asked.

"We did," One of the knights said and pointed to one of the rooms. "Over there. Some sort of ritual along with five sacrifices to the addition."

Lars was hardly surprised. He encountered several ritualistic sacrifices done during the war, all brutal and messy. Most were done by the Scarlet Order to combat the Partishans. Others were of no consequence to deal with. And few proved to fail there and then in spectacular fashion.

"Hmm, humans?"

The knight shook his head. "No. Not humans, my grand. But something else."

The way the knight sounded, troubled with a tinge of confusion almost made Lars intrigued by the discovery. He knew that humans were the prime source of power, their blood potent to raise the Red Knight's capabilities like oil to the flame. If they were not humans, then it would be animals, but it lacked the potency to make the Scarlet Order dangerous. The conclusion was reached and the decision made as he went into the room. As soon as the door creaked open, the Partishan paused, but it was not fear, but with keen interest.

There was little trace of snow in the room, but it was riddled with dried bloodstains that splatter against the wall. Beast humanlike corpses laid to mark on the ground as trails of blood formed in a circle. The bodies were what caught Lars' attention as he kneeled down for a closer look. The sacrifices were not human, but rather animals shaped almost like one.

The knight that was still at the doorway spat with disgust. "Monsters and mutants alike."

Lars didn't respond and resumed to check on the next one. Inside the circular ring, he found strange scribbles written in purplish hue. The message was utterly alien, almost impossible to translate. The more he tried to understand the words, the more he felt the pain throbbing at the back of his mind. After moments of an unsuccessful attempt, he pushed himself to his feet.

At the end of the room was a makeshift altar, constructed of cheap materials and a cheaper excuse for it. A strange-looking dagger laid on top of the platform, and it oozed with a fearful sickness that would make any man wince. Without a hint of hesitation, Lars grasped it as his fingers wrapped around the black handle.

As soon Lars touched it, he could feel the coldness in his hand and a curt moment pain between each finger. Specks of corruption spread from his hand all the way to the forearm as Lars examined it with fascination.

The pale knight soon caught notice at the corruption, his body slightly tensed. He did not move. He watched, waited and prepared to jump in a second notice.

"It is... Quite different that I come to suspect," Lars said to the knight, unfazed by the signs on his forearm. A minute later, the corruption soon receded, its blacken taint disappeared from his hand. "Invasive. Stubborn. A disturbing power to behold."

Lars released the dagger to the ground and with his mighty boot, he smashed the artifact to pieces.

Seeing the dagger destroyed, the knight relaxed for a bit. "To think, I almost believe you were taken," he admitted, which earned him a chuckle from Lars.

"Hah, as if that thing could have the chance to take over me?" Lars said, waving his gauntlet. "Have faith in me, my kin. We are made out of a sturdier bunch than that."

The second knight arrived before them, his eyes caught at the room and then at Lars. "One of the Jays beseech an audience, my grand," he said. "It seems they have found something."

"And right on cue," Lars said and barked a laugh. He patted a hand onto the first knight's pauldron. "You got this handled, my kin?"

"Naturally, of course."

"And that is an answer I like to hear. Waste no time in this place. Destroy the rest."

The first knight nodded, and Lars left the room and the longhouse, leaving the two the rest in charge of the cleanup. He could still feel the tingle in his hand until that tingle faded from existence.