Gruff Ruffcoat stirred up from his slumber, black eyes snapped wide in a state of alarm. He looked around, stricken with a flush of panic, zipping left from right then. Now his eyes caught the nearest glint of something metal like a temporary hope. He fixed on it, feeling his anxiety increasingly lessened.

Ruffcoat was on a wooden cart, pulled by two human soldiers. Sitting close beside him, a soldier with the uniform colours of black and white inspected the polish length of his knife from the lantern, sharpening it on a whetstone.

Shk. Shk. Shk.

Ruffcoat fell to lean back on the cart, and a breath escaped his lips as the fear gradually left his mind. The soldier with the knife had taken notice of this and paused, giving Ruffcoat a momentary glance for a brief second before he went back to his laborious work.

Shk. Shk. Shk.

The familiar sound of metal dragging against stone was becoming more audible now, distinct and invasive. It was enough for Ruffcoat to not sleep after that. Then again, perhaps, if it was considered wise to do so. The nightmares had become more frequent as of late, lucid and vivid with each passing day that Ruffcoat had been struggling to calm his senses. He dreamt of giants, of Valeran and his fellow white-cladded kin, twisting, churning into monsters of terrible form. From his dream, he witnessed them slaughtering a group of people that he did not know, of a place that he had never seen before. Crowds of shapeless shades were running from every direction, only to be cut down and hewed by the giants' blades and halberds without so much of an effort. The worst part of the nightmare was the screams. So genuine, so eerily detailed, Ruffcoat thought he was really there in the flesh. It shook him.

A hand was on his shoulder, and with a slight shake of a shudder, Ruffcoat returned to reality from his unpleasant daydream, seeing face-first of the uniformed soldier. Closely, his beige face had many scars, deep and vivid like an open wound. One particular was jutted from the chin to the brow. He uttered something in his own tongue, and Ruffcoat recognized the tone behind them was genuine concern. His piercing blue eyes told much the same.

Ruffcoat smiled weakly and nodded in response. He did not understand what the soldier was saying, but he understood the meaning behind his worriment. 

“I'm fine, Darren," Ruffcoat said, recognizing the soldier and patting him by the arm with assurance. He learned much about the soldier and the other prisoners during their long confinement together spent in the prison cell and then through the infested woodland. Some were alive and well somewhere in the expedition, and others were not as fortunate. 

When Darren tilted his head slightly, confusion mingled on his face, Ruffcoat repeated his statement, raising a thumb upwards for emphasis. 

Despite the gesture, Darren was not fooled for a second, but he relented the issue and withdrew back to his set. He rummaged through something from his inner uniform and pulled out a tin flask to offer Ruffcoat, who took it gladly. 

Ruffcoat drank a generous swig, feeling his tongue, his tongue, his throat on fire. It wasn't water, but rather a unique taste of crisp berry flavour with a sweet aftertaste. He had drunk alcohol before in his youth, but this one was different. His first-time tasting human beverage had led to a seldom disaster, earning a few chuckles from the soldiers. Now, he was getting used to it, even enjoyed it after a few tries.

Ruffcoat's expertise in the medicinal, herbal craft and knowledge had earned a genuine respect from the human soldiers. Within a few days, the legionaries had welcomed him as one of their own. Even the medicae teams, who were earlier resistant and uncordial, had the undisguised interest to seek advice at times, even though the result was mixed due to miscommunication.

Darren stared at him, one brow arched, and Ruffcoat hadn't realized that he had been drinking his canteen more volume than usual. Flushed with embarrassment, he laughed weakly and quickly gave it back to him. 

“Sorry," Ruffcoat scratched the back of his head, smiling like an idiot. Darren looked at the canteen, then back at him, then back at it again for a considerable time before he uttered something along with a snort.

Ruffcoat was unsure what the soldier said, but the look on his face, stretching into a smirk, implied that he would not hear it from the rest of his comrades anytime soon.

Darren was about to say more, but the cart came to a sudden stop, almost dropping his canteen and the contents within. He turned round sharply, inquiring the pull-carters the reason for the pause, only to find his tongue stilled in his throat and shut, eyes widened with alarm.

“Apothecary Ruffcoat."

A voice, far too deep for a man and far too hideously resonant, boomed in a thunderous rumble, earning Darren and Ruffcoat to both stiffen from the pronouncement. There was only one particular group that could speak and understand Ruffcoat without error.

The knight stood in front of the cart as tall as a mountain and imperious in his white-cladded armour, one hand clenched around his halberd. He fixed steadily on the apothecary with undisguised impatience as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. 

Ruffcoat snapped to his attention and tried to stand from the cart, but he stopped, feeling a pull and a tug from his robes. He looked down and saw that the squirrel, his still sleeping patient and fellow inmate, was clinging onto him as if she was a newborn child. Darren made an effort to unlatched her fingers gently from Ruffcoat and brought her close on his lap before the canine took a stand.

"Y-yes, my lord," he stuttered. Then, with more firmness, he added. "Yes. How can I be of assistance to you?"

The knight didn't respond, not right away, as he beamed on him as if studying an animal. Which, Ruffcoat was. "Partishan Valeran has demanded your attention," he said without preamble, voice dripping with venom. "I was asked to bring you as an escort."

Even as the knight finished, his eyes wandered idly around as Ruffcoat saw that it was not the only one their cart came to an abrupt halt. The entire expedition came to a standstill, a riot of soldiers and few armoured forms of white standing in idle. A curious look glinted in his eyes, but he was interrupted as the knight thumped the butt of his halberd to the ground, weightily urging him with insistent haste. 

Ruffcoat hurried to obey without delay, jumping out from the wooden cart and shuddering the instant his feet made contact on a pile of snow, splattering white flakes all over his robes. Annoyed, he shook his body like an actual dog, creating more of a mess nearby as Darren was one of those who raised one arm high. 

The expedition was far from the common avenues Ruffcoat rarely traversed in. Old dirt roads were covered deep in snow, and nature had overtaken much of everything, leaving without any trace to suspect that civilization had ever taken root in this place. 

As Ruffcoat came within several inches to his attendance, the knight dipped his head as he turned towards the intended direction and began to move, not glancing back whether Ruffcoat was following or not. 

Ruffcoat followed, taking several steps until he suddenly stopped himself, whirling around with a considering expression on Darren, worrying if he should leave his patient behind at the paws… hands of a stranger. But Darren wasn't a stranger, and Ruffcoat saw him rubbing gently on the squirrel's head, 

one hand brushing against the rich brownish mane of her soft fur as if caressing a sleeping pet. Aware of the gaze, Darren's eyes met Ruffcoat, and he winked for reassurance.

The other two soldiers, the same two who pulled the cart after long treacherous miles through sleet and stone, gave a stern nod in unison, agreeing as if to share this burdened task. 

This brought Ruffcoat relaxed somewhat. Similar to Darren,  the two were former prisoners held captive by the wolves and were among a trio hand-selected by Valeran as acting bodyguards in the welfare of their prestigious guests. Despite the difference of their heraldry, their uniforms a shade opposite from one another in the blues and greens of their respective company, there was indeed a mutual agreement of respect for the apothecary, which was why their faces had a modicum of concern when the knight had summoned him. 

Touched by this, Ruffcoat smiled, a tiny one, but it was there like the brightest star of countless stars and flickering bright when all else winked out. He dipped his head at the three with a brisk slowness of thanks before he sprinted as the knight was already ahead.

The expedition was now a far distant sight from Ruffcoat's view, the sound of his footsteps crunching audibly loud on carpeted snow that stretched an echo into the palpable silence. He permitted a glance back to the many torches and lanterns from the collective masses of the expedition. They were like tiny specks of fireflies glittering in the perpetual night as they grew dimmer and farther they went. He kept pace, moving, jogging, pushing himself to the limit just to keep up with the knight, who was still ahead of him despite the effort.

Not as young and fit as he once was, Ruffcoat could feel his old age beginning to ache his entire body while the knight kept simply, abnormally, fit to proceed without fatigue. 

“Don't wait for me," Ruffcoat said with a sarcastic wheeze. His breath became ragged somewhat, huffing in and out for air. He leaned forward to a hunch, paws on his knees. “I'll… I'll catch up."

Luckily, the knight was not deaf to the sound of someone in pain as he came to a stop, rounded gradually adamant to waiting for the old canine to move. 

As the knight planted his feet firmly, Ruffcoat crumbled as he went down to his knees, one paw clutching tight around his chest, feeling the beat of his heart thrummed with irregularity. The knight didn't move to aid him, silent and stoic like stone, standing not near or far within reach should things further escalate. Ruffcoat let his eyes close for a moment, hearing none but the wind of silence invading his ears and his fur brushing along the motion. He took a deep breath, remembering the technique to calm everything his old heart could not endure.  

With a slow, deliberate cycle, inhaling and exhaling, Ruffcoat felt a little better now, found his breathing steady, his heart beating at a regular pace. When he opened his eyes, the silvery light of the moon creeping into the black orbs of his soul, he let his gaze wander at the black forest for the trees and heard nothing but the silence that came along with it.

He shuddered at this, not from the trees that infested the place in a grim sickly outlook or even the permeable silence. Instead, it was the feeling of emptiness of it all that made him weary. This part of the land, this part of this kingdom, was dying. 

Barren and empty, devoid of the possible existence of life, the land was defiled by a growing sickness as corruption blighted the region. Its palpable reach was measured by the weight it had claimed and the lives that paid a blood toll price. A terrible foreboding sense of dread nagged at his heart as Ruffcoat knew that everything was falling apart. Not now… but soon. 

Civil unrest, plagues, monsters. All such disasters concocted into one as a grim reminder of the state of things. It was all too much, Ruffcoat thought, and he imagined himself wondering if he would ever live to see the end of it. 

Ruffcoat stopped himself, then he shook his head, sharp with internal disgust. Such fatalistic ruination was undeserving to him and deserved to those who wished for it as he was not so unwilling to give in freely to the dark.

Ruffcoat pushed himself to his feet, suddenly found the strength within to keep on going as the knight began to move.

The journey to the intended place didn't take that long until Ruffcoat sighted several figures from a distance. Nearest, two soldiers in the blue, black and white uniforms stood vigil watch from the roadway and shot the newcomers with their blank black eyes. Ruffcoat gestured with one paw raised in greeting, but they ignored him, their gaze fixed on the knight with a crisp salute, weapons held ready. He noticed right away from their equipment and realized that it was not the standard firearms the humans possessed, but rather warbows of exemplary quality, no doubt looted from the outpost. 

With formalities exchanged and finished, the knight whirled to fix the canine with a steady gaze. "Partishan Valeran awaits you ahead." His one gauntlet pointed.

Ruffcoat dipped his head into a nod and proceeded to pass through the guards and further into the gathering mass.

Many torches were alight brightly ahead, concentrated heavily from that particular spot as Ruffcoat recognized a knot of armoured forms, more soldiers and the reason for his summons. Even from a distance, he could smell it as easily as any. 

From the side of the road, gathered neatly presentable on carpet snow, laid a line of scorched bodies.

"You've made it." 

Ruffcoat was caught well off-guard surprised by the sudden declaration as the voice was a deep and resonant thunder similar to the other giants. He immediately recognized the cordial earthiness behind the tone and knew when to familiarise whether the knights were friendly with him or not. 

Valeran appeared to meet Ruffcoat in the middle of the road without a helmet, lips peeled back to reveal sharp rows of white teeth. Ruffcoat stiffened at the smile but prompted himself to compose in a mannerable state, offering a smile return though it was a brittle thing. Despite their timely acquaintances together in the long roads of the expedition, there was the briefest impression of wrongness that made Ruffcoat's back of his fur stand on edge. 

Valeran, like all the other giants armoured in white, was a massive scale that demanded attention. Not as large as the great ursines of their clan, but similarly close to the definition of intimidation. If Valeran was with a helmet, Ruffcoat could not tell apart which. These armoured forms were annoyingly alike as if the gods moulded a perfect cast of men but left their individuality from the formula.

Ruffcoat was made to bow low, but Valeran stopped him midway before completing the motion.

“No," Valeran said sternly, one hand by the elder's arm. He quickly brought him back upright and patted away the snow that caught on his robes. “No," he repeated. “You will do no such thing. Not to me. You've earned the right to stand beside me after all that you have done for us."

Ruffcoat was surprised by this, immediately grateful by the words. “Thank you," he said after a moment.

Valeran chuckled as soft as any right a giant should ever produce. “You've earned the right to stand beside me, Ruffcoat," he said. “Your contribution to the legion is noticed, and the Grand Knight wishes to pass the message at how well you've performed."

Ruffcoat angled his head but quickly averted his eyes away, unable to stare at those icy blue eyes. “I… I did what any medical professional would have done," he said, mingling humbleness and honesty both. “I hardly believe my contribution has made an impact."

"Nonsense. Nonsense!" Valeran said, and Ruffcoat flinched as an arm pressed gently over his back. The sheer strength behind the giant was impossible for Ruffcoat to ignore as he was forced to move in his intended direction. "Your skills in the medical practice are valued and are a value still as you are here."

Ruffcoat felt somewhat uneasy by this despite Valeran's gentle manner, who was now obviously pushing him further and further away from the bodies. He looked back suddenly at a group of soldiers, the same familiar men he met from before, hauling the dead one by one somewhere deep into the trees, undeniable that their final destination would lead to a funeral pyre. One of the knights from the group was quick to notice the intrusion, and Ruffcoat snapped his attention forward, feeling a cold chill all of a sudden.

Even as Ruffcoat directed his gaze, Valeran's arm pushed a slight exertion of force as he almost misstepped his footing. He glowered, but he restrained himself with an effort to not show any face as they went further away from the bodies. 

The journey to Ruffcoat's purpose was not far as they came into contact with a trio of soldiers equipped with stolen warbows and blades. They stood guard at something or someone as a silhouetted figure laid flat on several layers of swathed cloth. Their faces were half-covered with bandanas, and Ruffcoat came to understand the reason for it as the burnt smell of cooked flesh became instantaneous, and the tang of urine and faeces combined was so heavy that he almost gagged. 

Valeran started to move ahead from Ruffcoat, and the guards noticed him. They briskly saluted, backs straightened, boots crashing together in perfect unison. The very models of militaristic discipline, and Ruffcoat found this display quite eerily similar to that of the kingsguard of the palace.

He overheard Valeran said something, a low guttural sound like metal scraping metal, the only language that the soldiers wholly understood. With a sharp casual gesture from Valeran, the three bowed their heads in acknowledgement and withdrew, leaving Valeran and Ruffcoat alone in attendance with their erstwhile guest on the ground.

As the soldiers were far from view, as the cold wind blew a sharp shrill that kissed their face, Valeran whirled about to the apothecary. He gestured, both hands an invitation before a practical procedure, and Ruffcoat did what he did best.

The canine was already on the victim, down on both knees. One paw over his snout with a pulled handkerchief, Ruffcoat outstretched the other, pressing two fingers on the victim's neck. It didn't take long for him to make an analysis despite the nervous system being a terrible ruin.

“Vitals are faint, breathing is slow," Ruffcoat said, not looking back. He came to a quick decision that the victim was male founded on the broadly built baseline and his body language, but so heavy the burns that it was impossible to differentiate the victim's gender. The victim was an Armellian, Ruffcoat was surely confident to declare, as he grabbed him by the chin to turn from their direction, revealing what was left of his face.

Pointed ears, long snout. A fox or a wolf, most likely. But even as Ruffcoat's thoughts deduced a conclusion, doubt was stirring at the recess of his mind, his statement unsure. Whoever this person was, their identity was beyond recognition. Most of his face was peeled away by the flame, physically deformed that melted through the flesh to reveal patches of the bony surface. 

Valeran peered close from behind, leaning forward on the apothecary's performance. He was suddenly observant of Ruffcoat rather than the victim. 

“His entire body has suffered deep burns," Ruffcoat went on, his eyes scanning on the victim for a long minute. “Skin and tissue tore everything apart into a blackening state. Fever is already on him. It is a miracle that he is breathing."

“One of the only survivors," Valeran supplied. “He was found among the rest of the unfortunates, all burnt to a crisp."

Ruffcoat was silent for a moment. “And they were found like this?"

“As we are far to assure, yes," His voice was becoming severe all of a sudden, a trail of venom parting from the knight's lips. “My brothers and I have come to an agreement that this so-called magic is the cause for this tragedy."

Ruffcoat's paw stopped, and when he examined the body further, studying the strange burnt marks and the stylized chaos of its infliction, he was much at the same conclusion. “That seemed most likely. There were no signs of scorch marks on the roads when I arrived, and the wounds are beyond practical sense," he paused. “But it could have been done somewhere else, and these poor unfortunates must have been tossed aside as the result of it."

Valeran didn't respond, eyes fixing studiously on the victim as if he saw something that Ruffcoat did not. “Will this creature be salvageable?" he said, at last, his voice evidently nonchalant.

Ruffcoat winced. He didn't like the way Valeran said it, as if the person before him was nothing more than a tool to be discarded rather than a living being. “With some time, of course," he answered and pushed himself to stand with a grunting effort. “Which we do not. Not even the best remedies or concoctions or even best practitioners of Armello could bring him back from this… state." A heavy sigh escaped from his lips, sounding tired all of a sudden.

Valeran looked at Ruffcoat, suddenly taking the meaning behind the resignation. “You would end him." 

It wasn't a question, Ruffcoat understood, but there was a cold glimmer of amusement in the giant's voice. “There is no sugarcoating the situation, my lord. This man will die a miserable death if we do not intervene. Better give this man a quick, painless death than to prolong one."

Again, Valeran became unresponsive, and the silence continued to stretch even longer now. Ruffcoat felt anxious for a response, wondering if he would be forced to keep this man alive while they interrogated him for answers. He knew it was a likelihood, given that this tragic mystery was too compelling to uncover and that he had few options to protest against beings whose size and strength alone could kill him without an effort. 

Before Ruffcoat could even register a response, Valeran's hand motioned to the belt and pulled out a blade from his scabbard. Though its appearance had the shape of a dagger around Valeran's hand, for Ruffcoat, however, the length itself looked more like a short sword than anything else. With a whirling flip of a gesture, he offered Ruffcoat the handle.

Ruffcoat stared at it, then at the giant seconds before averting his gaze. A quick realization dawned on him. “You cannot possibly think that I could--"

Ruffcoat's sentence faltered as he saw the handle directed ever closer to him by Valeran's motion. The giant uttered not a sound, not a word, but his cold eyes fixed on the canine with a blank expression.

Though it was hard to read the giant's face, Ruffcoat understood the meaning of the gesture. Unable to protest, he hesitantly, eventually, took it. The dagger was surprisingly light around his grip, and the blade had a sizable lethality all on its own. As he gradually rounded about, his gaze stared wearily down at the dying victim. Long years of medical practice made Ruffcoat understand the meaning of death. He was familiar with making hard decisions, taking life more than once in his storied career, but that didn't make this any easier. Even now, he felt the sudden resistance to the deed, paws shaking slightly.

When Ruffcoat found his composure, the strength to overcome his anxiety, he took in a deep breath and both his knees fell close to the victim. Without resistance, without delay, he used the dagger expertly like a surgeon crafting on flesh, driving the tip quickly down to his heart. The victim twitched, spasmed with mild resistance and finally did not move, succumbing to the blow.  

Silence permeated the place for long moments before it was broken by Valeran, moving beside the apothecary and hunching down over to retrieve his dagger. He wiped out the blood with a rag, sheathing it.

“You did good," Valeran complemented, watching the apothecary still on his knees, staring at the now-dead corpse. He placed a paw over the chest, speaking low in a voice similar to that of a prayer. 

Valeran offered some room for the apothecary to cope with whatever pain or regret that bothered him. It lasted only a minute before Ruffcoat stood to his feet and then turned, passing Valeran without a word.

Valeran should have said something right there and then, something to encourage or offer a means to support. Unsure what words to comfort the canine, he decided to say nothing, and they continued to walk back to the gathered group.