12 Change (2)

Author Note: There is a map of the Chosen Lands on the discord that will be updated as the story explores more of the world. If you want to reference it for this chapter, the link to the discord is in the comments.

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The signal flag to prepare for retreat had been for the benefit of more than just the warriors of the crimson. It had been a signal to their company's camps by the Dragon Gate as well, the many noncombatants packing their things and preparing to retreat behind the wall of Stonejaw at a moment's notice.

So when the call was given, the camps were already safely behind the wall by the time Markus and the rest reached the huge portcullis, the first company to cross the boundary of Hadrial, leaving the Hasshan to their fate with the Fallen.

Everywhere he looked, Markus saw men in a state of disbelief. The adrenaline and the need to act had kept them focused in the moment, but with a faint promise of safety suddenly upon them, they were all faced with the reality of their situation.

"The Fallen… they've entered the Chosen Lands."

Growing up, Markus had been obsessed with stories of the age of heroes. Fables of the Divine Heralds, champions of the Gods that battled the enemies of humanity.

Monsters, demons, the Fallen. How he had fantasized as a child about slaying such things and becoming a renowned holy knight.

But that 'thing' had looked at him, and he knew in that moment the tales gave no justice to the dread of The Fallen.

"Mark… that thing, what was it?" Julia asked as she continued eyeing the portcullis, and the battle beyond.

Wetting his lips, Markus watched the other companies and armies retreat behind the wall of Stonejaw, fighting off the Hassan that tried to follow them to safety.

"Dae'lith. They rule the dead and gather armies of The Fallen."

The great portcullis snapped shut, locking out many of their allies alongside the overwhelming numbers of Hassan and Fallen. Snapped out of his reverie by the gate's clash, Markus shook his head slightly. "I don't know, it's the stuff of fables and fairy tales. Either way, we need to rally the men before their fear takes hold."

"There's no point…" Came Quinn's faint voice. "The wall won't help."

His eyes were glazed as if he'd checked out mentally, but Markus placed a hand on his shoulder and gave his squire a shake. "Calm down Quinn, we've barely encountered the things, it's too early to check out now."

"But… In the stories…"

"Quin." Markus' voice came stern and hard. "I know the stories well, but now is not the time. If you want to succeed your aunt and I one day, you need to look at the bigger picture."

Quinn's eyes widened a bit as clarity returned, and his head slowly turned to take in his surroundings. The dread, the despair, the numb shock. In that final moment, more men had died by Hassan's reckless abandon and the Ghoul's frenzied slaughter than in the entire battle preceding it.

"Understand?"

The boy nodded.

With the power of his path still running circuits in his body, the sound of flapping wings caught his attention, and Markus turned to see a carrier pigeon arriving in the distance, likely a warning sent too late for Duke Terrath.

"Go on, Quinn, speak with whoever you know and do what you can for them."

Turning to do the same, Markus sought out his sergeants, hiding the slight limp from his bruised legs as best he could. Today had been one thing after another, but as a leader, he needed to appear undisturbed and unwavering.

More carrier pigeons arrived as he made the rounds between his sergeants.

"Jason, Rick, report."

Sergeants Jason Cobbler and Rick Arden were both strong men, and though Jason's face still held an air of youth, scars riddled him as extensively as Markus himself. Rick on the other hand appeared a ruffian with his bald head, wide frame, and busted nose, yet he was in truth a strict and orderly man.

"Just finished the headcount Sir, of my 83 surviving the first battle, only 37 remain. Worse, the horses tied in the camps seemed to go frenzied when the… Fallen, appeared. Many chewed their binds and fled. Some, unable to do that snapped at each other, losing eyes or bleeding out. The count is still going but we've lost more than half of our remaining steeds."

It was hard to resist the wince he felt coming over him as he listened. Every sergeant he had spoken to reported similar findings, and the hope that only a few suffered so badly was being crushed. He did hide it though, and with a nod, turned to Sergeant Jason.

"Jason? Your report?"

The man was staring at the ground, anger within his brown eyes, but after a moment he stood straight and appeared to stare through Markus as he gave his report.

"Of the 94 that survived the first… 13 remain." His teeth clenched, and for a moment, that scar riddled face had no semblance of its previously youthful air.

Markus breathed deeply before speaking with a calming tone. "I understand. Record the names of the dead. If their families are with us, I will see to them all."

"Thank you Sir, but that won't be necessary. I will do it."

Now he was actually seeing Markus, no longer staring at nothing.

"Alright—"

"All Free Companies! Your Captains to Duke Terrath's meeting tent! Leave men at guard to protect the fort under my direction." It was Colonel Einth—direct subordinate of Duke Terrath—that shouted as he rode through the unfinished fortress.

After a moment's pause, Markus gripped each of his sergeant's shoulders and looked them in the eyes. "This is what we do, and we do it better than any other, right?" They each nodded, Jason with a look of determination in his eyes, Rick with solid, unwavering confidence.

"Then go pick the others up off their knees and remind them who we are. Anyone with a good look in their eyes will serve you well, so keep them close, and let's show these others what it means to be Crimson."

They each delivered a warrior's salute, their fists clanging over metal breastplates before breaking off into different directions.

"Markus." Julia called from his rear. "Come, I want you with the captains to hear what's said."

Another carrier pigeon made its way to Duke Terrath's tent as they approached, followed by a runner on horseback. If they were hoping to warn them of the Fallen they were too late by a hair, and that hair meant everything.

Duke Terrath's meeting tent was larger than any others within The Dragon Gate, yet with so many captains and nobles packed in, it was far too cramped. Markus' large, wide-shouldered frame wasn't helping any, especially considering he had not been invited, but in the end, no one decided to send him away, so he stood still and listened.

Duke Terrath appeared to have aged years in the days since Markus last saw him, but contrastingly, he appeared more domineering now than he had prior to the battle. With the unknown exposed, he appeared a warrior again, every bit the veteran Grand Knight he was.

"I have received word from Sohryn, from Goldharte, Mindel, Caldenya, and even Loril. I imagine more birds and runners are scattering across the country from every city that knows, but unfortunately, none were in time for us."

A noble Markus thought he recognized the heraldry of, tried to speak, but a fiery gaze from Duke Terrath's silver eyes snuffed the man's intentions, and the veteran continued.

"First of all, let me confirm it now. The Fallen have entered the Chosen Lands."

Ruckus immediately broke out among the crowded leaders within the tent, those who had stood on the field itself shouting "obviously!" "Did you not see them?" And so on, while those who had not, shouted incredulities and dismissals.

A sharp, metallic aura burst from Duke Terrath, carrying a scent of steel, rust, and blood that silenced all before fading away.

"My word is truth. The problem is we are not ground zero."

Chaos threatened to break free in the tent once more, but most restrained themselves at the sight of the Duke, who seemed ready to make examples if any spoke.

"I believe their first appearance was in western Hasshan, or possibly the Ashen Desert south of it. If their armies were caught mid-transit by the Fallen, it would explain their rush to take the Dragon Gate and secure their safety behind the wall of Stonejaw. But I have word that within our own borders, the Fallen have invaded. Sangild and the surrounding area is lost, the dead having crossed the western mountains into both Yanheim and our own Hadrial.

"Now, most of our kingdom's military, alongside the majority of the free companies within our borders are gathered here, so the question is whether to—"

"Hold on!" Markus spoke without thought, his mouth dry and his hand shaking. Reprimands and calls for quiet rang out, but Duke Terrath fixed a silent, angry glare at Markus, who returned one of insistence in kind.

"You said… Sangild? They crossed the western mountains?"

Julia's face was pale, her blue eyes wide, but she did not speak, despite her mouth seeming to mime the words.

"What about Falrum? Falrum, the town east of Lenios, near the mountains. What of it?!"

"...I do not know." Duke Terrath said calmly, his gaze growing a little less heated, but nevertheless hard. "The report was vague. Sangild and its surroundings are lost. I would assume that includes the town of Falrum."

Markus made to speak again, but the duke raised a hand to forestall him. "That is all I can tell you now, I know nothing else. If that's your only concern right now I understand, but if so, you need to leave this tent."

Every gaze was on Markus, and after a second of hesitation, he turned, pushing his way through the crowd of leaders and exiting the tent.

'The western mountains… Falrum. Liana! Eve!' There was no daze or confusion, no shock to be had. He needed to return, now!

At some point he had entered a run, gates reopened within his gallery of war as his legs strained under the power with which he kicked the earth. 'Horses, where are the horses?' He focused the power in his ears and heard the ruckus created by frightened animals, still sensing the undead beyond the tall wall of Stonejaw. 'There!'

Stable hands jumped in fright as he ran to their location at great speeds, grabbing the reins of a horse before they could react. It was only after he pulled himself astride the saddle and clicked his tongue at how unruly the beast was that he recognized it as Strider, his own Warhorse lost in the first battle.

"Calm boy. Please, I need you to be calm right now."

Perhaps from the years of cooperation and bonding, the hair-trigger steed actually did calm in a way, anger and terror settling into the unease and worry of his rider. It had taken a very long time to make Strider recognize him, and very few others could handle the creature, but if he trusted anything under him in a battle, it was Strider.

"Come boy, quickly."

"Old man? Hey, what's happening?!" Quinn shouted as he ran close, Strider almost biting his face before the squire stopped clear of it.

"I…" His earlier talk of seeing the bigger picture and being a leader floated up in his mind, but Markus crushed it. He was still human, and he could not stay here knowing his home was in danger.

'His' home… Quinn's home too. Ron. Markus hated the man, but he was Quinn's father, and the boy loved him as any good son should.

"Quinn…" He actually felt a moment of calm as he spoke in a soft voice to his squire. "The Fallen have crossed the western mountains. Falrum might be l-lost." He wavered at the end as the moment of calm shattered.

"I need to go, I'm leaving no-"

"Wait, I'm coming." The boy ran to the horses nearby, fighting a stable hand for the reins to someone else's horse, before mounting and riding to Markus.

"Let's go." He shouted as he rode past, body low in the saddle as he brought the steed to a gallop. Markus heeled Strider to follow and soon the two were kicking up dust as they left, a woman's voice shouting far behind as power reverberated in the air.

"Find my brother Markus! Keep that fool safe or I swear to the gods I'll string you up by your ankles!"

Julia's voice, a hint of sorrow behind false confidence.

"I will." He said quietly as he rode. "I will bring him back, with Liane and my little girl."