Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

The man who was her opponent was one of lethal dimensions. Maybe not like Sir Waters, but still. She didn’t know much about him even as he had been locked up here longer than her, and was a member of her platoon since two tendays now. What she did learn about Jard though was that when he was born... his mother was so terrified she abandoned him instantly, like some monster. Today however Jard was standing before her like as if he were some bloody new species. Jard flexed his arm muscles under that pale skin of his as he rolled up his sleeves. Nearly white skin, just like his hair, and he had these pinky eyes. Jard was an albino, and in her clan such would have been regarded as a sign from the gods. Tempus to be more specific.



I swallowed. Tried to do that invisible. Ever since I had been retrieved from the mines, Sanders made each of my days a living hell. I was still sore from the drills and other ‘tests of faith’ yesterday, and already I had to be set again. Armed, braced, fortified and steeled. Jard wasn’t wearing any armour, nor did he hold any weapon. Still, this was not very reassuring. I’m not stupid. The guy has been training for ages with this ‘Network’ or whatever they called themselves. Maybe he didn’t knew every trick in the book, but I sure as hell didn’t feel like someone who could teach him a lesson instead of the other way around.

Under the watchful eye of both Sanders and Sir Waters we started to circle each other. Good, as movement… abrupt movement would be key here. I liked it how it made my moves less predictable, and judging from the fact Jard didn’t went straight in, well… I dare to say he respected me. Not that he was afraid from me. No, not at all.

We established a rhythm, and aside from a quick jab here and a quick swing there, nothing happened. Did Jard hesitate? I doubted my gladius was that impressing. Suddenly however he jumped straight at me, delivering one power strike, clearly with the intention of knocking me out with one blow. And me, the silly goose, I ducked.



Jard had been anticipating that move, and thus he also raised his leg and kicked the woman full in the face. It didn’t land any harder than that evaded punch, but it sure blinded her. As she fell back, Jezebeth swung her blade blindly, like as if the giant that was Jard had turned into smoke, with giant fists only materializing from the clouds whenever they found an opening in her defense.

But he had failed to knock her unconscious, unlike those before her. With renewed vigour and confidence, the black haired woman got up again. She had no idea where her energy for this second wind came from, though it sure was nice to have Jard wondering.



After my vision restored, I noticed I had wounded Jard’s hands with my blade. However, wounded or not, this overly-muscled body won go down like that. His nickname was El Soldado, translation ‘The Soldier’. He stood there before me, like an enormous immovable rock. Powerful muscles rippled beneath his abnormal pale skin. Once more he seemed to make no motion, the skin of his chest marked with scars and cuts from earlier fights raised against the chilly air as he inhaled.

The smell of low-burning campfires permeated the atmosphere. The morning was still ongoing, and only a single breeze now and then erased the wispy perfumed smoke rising up from the embers. I think it was up to me now to make a move. So, I did something he never would have expected. Suddenly I just threw my blade at him. The metal dangerously sliced air as he blinked. And he was so focused on the incoming threat, he didn’t saw that I had followed the airborne weapon. My feet went for his kneecaps, and just like the saying ‘big trees fall hard’ Jard went down pretty hard.

As quick as a snow leopard I pounced on him, grabbed my blade as I did and pushed the tip against his now exposed neck. Then, my gaze slowly lifted up to look directly at Sanders.

“When you choose to throw someone to the wolves, there is a chance that one day they'll return with a large pack.”



Jezebeth’s eyes shone with the strength of her soul, and Sanders couldn’t help a light shiver running down his spine. He was to step forward in order to bring her back in line in the way he saw fit, clearly not accepting any criticism or alike from those below his rank.

Sir Waters stopped him and whispered. “Unless you like to show her her reaction got to you…” The officer didn’t finish his sentence and stepped forward instead of Sanders.

“Jezebeth, I hereby declare you platoon leader. You’ll start as of tomorrow…” He glanced briefly at Sanders who clearly wanted to make a statement but didn’t. “...along with responsibilities that come with the role.”

Sanders turned his head to look at Jezebeth and offered her a slow pervy grin.



I looked from Sir Waters back at Sanders. My own grin couldn’t have stretched any further, baring my teeth. Soon enough the cold would freeze the man’s grin forever. Wolves follow the one who kills the pack leader.

As I maintained eye contact with Sanders, slowly I pressed my blade a little deeper in Jard’s neck, and I could swear I sensed the big man underneath me tremble with fear.

Good, fear always makes wolves bigger than they are.

Then, for some reason I exchanged glances with Sir Waters.

It’s a strange thing to say, but they gave me a life I never had before. Not often in a good sense, though not all was doom and gloom either. Never have I felt more healthy and strong than nowadays. Odd, especially since the food sucked compared to what my clan used to serve. Here, our meals were small, albeit frequent, and they were frugal. Beans, potatoes, bread, and something that could pass on for chicken, but I suspected it was muskrat.

Today was my first day as leader of my platoon, and I wasn’t sure if I felt ready for that. After all I have been paying attention to what happened in other platoons, and more specifically to their headmen when their unit underperformed. Officially I was also the first leader for my platoon, a hotchpotch that consisted of eight completely different individuals, including myself. I was also the only woman left. All the others had failed in either combat or mission, their bodies never retrieved. Says enough?

Now, did this made me feel special? I don’t know. What I did know was that I was not afraid of Sanders. No more. During my last duel with Jard it also dawned on me how things worked around here, and I was planning on keeping up an impression. They would never see it coming. Plans for later however.

Of course they had to assign Jard to my platoon, the tree of a man sitting next to me at one of the thirty tables in the mess hall inside the fortification. Thirty tables, thirty platoons. More than two hundred warriors inside, and then one or two groups ‘recruits’ outside.

Anyways, back to Jard. It didn’t look like he held a personal grudge against me. I know, appearances can be deceiving, but I think I had a pretty good view on how this man’s mind operated. In a way he was similar to one of my clan. You earn their respect through combat, and if you on top of that prove to be the better, well…

Not that he said anything. Not really. I learned he was more a man of acts than a man of words. The fact he was the first to join at my table and picked a seat next to me told me all I needed to know. I wasn’t going to push it and dare call him a friend. No, he’d likely respect me and my command. Until I lost it somewhere in a way that was humiliating from whatever his point of view was. So, that altogether meant twice the pressure... and triple the stakes.


For now however, we were a platoon, respected and admitted to the fortress of which we’ve only seen the dark outer walls during the months of the... ‘training’ and the very ‘strict schedules’ imposed on us during a wintry cold. Not all of us have survived, but those who did were like flames in said cold. For instance, I feel like I’m my own hero to have come this far, and I have a feeling I’m developing a greatness I have never ever sensed before. If it was the same to all the others in my platoon, well… that would make us quite a bunch, wouldn't it?


We all turned our heads as the pair of solid oak doors on the far end of the space opened to their full extent, followed by a heavy monotonous tramp of marching boots. The picture only missed trumpets to join the clamor. My tribe has always despised the distinguishing sight of corps and regiments moving through our land with intervals, orderly, sparkling and squeaky clean. In our eyes they missed the widespreadness of our bands with the ability to cover more ground or manipulate combat from multiple or alternating directions. But granted, after having been a while on the inside of such, I did learn the advantages of order and structure. Against cavalry for instance it was one of the best defences to move in a square. And the square also offered the benefit to advance on the enemy in any direction.

These people were a little different though from the ones I’ve seen before. They could either operate in small groups called platoons, form a larger unit with multiple platoons, or turn those trained within this very facility into what they called a pair of legions. Sir Waters was the officer, or in their language, the legatus of the legion my platoon was assigned to. He was also one of the two men who entered the mess hall at the head of a small regiment. I didn’t know much about the man next to him, save that he was the legatus of the other legion. The soldiers entering behind them were their personal cohorts.

Two leaders, with above them someone similar to a clan head, a chief of sorts. One I haven’t seen yet but I knew he existed, locked up in one of those towers. I bet he was an older man, one who would be a disgrace in our clan, leading his men from behind their lines. I say if you want to be leader, you should step out of your gate and command. And if you’re not able to, do the community a favor and jump off a cliff. That saves resources and people’s time.


It was sir Waters who took the floor, literally and figuratively in the middle of the hall. “Alright people, listen up. Prepare for a tenday mission, pack as light and as warm as you can, your appearance impeccable as always when you form up.”

“Yeah right, and then right through the mud with our spotless armor and gear...”

Jezebeth glanced behind her as she heard someone whispering that. Someone of her platoon, only she didn’t know who.

She froze when she looked back and found sir Waters staring right at her.

Then, the man cleared his throat before he spoke. “Alright everyone, dismissed!” He then turned his gaze back to Jezebeth. “Except for you and your platoon. Under your supervision they will sweep the mess hall floor, and then the storage to repeat the same thing there.”


And for real... nobody laughed...

Sounds of wood scraping over cold stone echoed throughout the space as we moved tables and chairs aside in order to clean the floor with brooms and afterwards water mixed with salt in order to stop it from freezing. My platoon finished this job really fast, and two hours later we were already moving towards the storage.

When I opened the squeaky door, we looked out on a fairly large room with lots of crates and kegs. Supplies, and they were stacked all around the walls and in the middle. There wasn’t really much space to work here either, so I decided half of us would start cleaning the floor between the crates while the rest waited outside, standing by to carry off dirt and stuff and bring in water. I estimated this job would take us about an hour.

Which didn’t seemed that bad.


By the time we were almost done, a sudden voice from behind me shook up my world. I hated that voice, and more, I hated the man to whom it belonged.

“Taking it really easy, are we now? You know, this isn’t what Waters meant.”

Slowly I turned over. And I really wanted to wipe that smirk of his face, preferably with force.

“Sir..?” It took me every fiber in my body not to lash out, and remain… well… polite.


Sanders quirked an eyebrow as he didn’t seemed to have expected that reaction. Good, I loved being unpredictable.

But then he pushed himself with his shoulder from the doorpost against which he had been leaning, arms crossed, and stepped inside the storage room.

“What Waters meant is a thorough clean of this place. We wan’t to make sure there are no rats ruining our supplies.”

I followed Sander’s gaze, and blinked as it dawned on me what he meant.

“Yes, Jezzy. It all has to come out. All of the 154 crates and 68 kegs.”

I looked back at him, finding myself staring.

“Oh? How I know? Well...I would be a bad quartermaster if I didn’t know exactly what we are keeping here.”

The man looked me over in a way that made me very uncomfortable.

“Both in supplies as well as other... goodies…”

I sensed someone stepping up beside me. It was Jard, and I swear I could hear how his bare fists next to his large body tightened.

No idea why I did it, perhaps instinct, or prompted by some unknown force, but I raised my hand to stop him.

Sanders looked almost casually from him to me and just faintly smirked. “Great, I see people are already volunteering.” He slapped his hand against the doorpost as he left. “Keep up the good work, I’ll come and check upon you in.... let’s say about eight hours?”


The man’s laughter echoed in my mind for a wee while longer...

A forced march through tidal marchlands… really? Why not taking the path elevated above this swampy terrain? After all my platoon has had no sleep whatsoever either. Not after what Sanders had pulled on us. I highly doubted sir Waters was aware of our treatment, but then again he wasn’t our mom and I’ve also sensed a new dynamic between him and Sanders. I just knew the two couldn’t stand each other, though somehow they had learned to coexist. If such were to be the case, I’d better learn quickly how to do so myself. That way I could stay alive and become stronger. And I wouldn’t want sir Waters to think I was depending on him.


It was an early summer morning, and though this were soon to become sun-scoured lands, right now our warm bodies in the cooler air turned mosquitoes kamikaze. Truly. Forget about that already awful sensation, the quiet buzz and then those irritating little stings. Think bigger. Think… irrational vampires, rising up from these warm, standing puddles filled with millions of eggs. And their stings making people sick. I was noticing it all around me, faces turning pale like skulls of skeletons against the blue sky, sweat pouring from under their helmets.

No food had touched any of my own platoon’s lips since breakfast the day prior, and some had started to snatch whatever they could, from snails to sedge grass. I rather had my throat blocked, even as my stomach was growling with hunger. I’ve endured worse. But I did understand, the more muscle a warrior had, the more he had to eat to compensate. Big guys like Jared often didn’t last long on exhaustive, unending missions. The Network didn’t seem to want us get killed, but something that was close enough. I guessed the experience was meant like a lesson of sorts.


Just as I thought there would be no end to our feet sinking deep into accumulated layers of bloody mud, sinky soil gave way to firm ground slowly rising up from dark water. Rock floor quickly followed. Ahead was a narrow lengthy canyon with a tall tree laying directly across, like a bridge without a hand rail, nothing to steady oneself. Its surface was damp with an excess of moss. And of course we had to cross it, while wearing armor and heavy backpacks. To what end beats me. I had no clue where or why they were sending us and another platoon through this worthless land. Should I as platoon leader have stepped up and demanded clear instructions? I sure as hell had no idea how to lead a platoon but I wasn’t willing either to give up on my position.

I hated being in this position, almost passive and letting others considering themselves my superiors deciding on my fate, pulling ropes like I were some sort of a makeshift doll. If Sanders or sir Waters were thinking they could make me do anything, they were wrong. But if either of them thought I couldn’t possibly survive all this, they were wrong as well. They most certainly were no gods, and if they thought they were some executive power personally commissioned by such entity, they’d be overextending and I’d be ready to make them trip.

Something they'd better keep in their minds as they proceed with me like this…

Bruises always came purple and yellow, but that was only the damage to the skin and the flesh. And it was no different now than when I was training in the stronghold. That’s what I at least kept telling myself…

Dawn was coming, and I could barely move, searching my way over mudd, broken bones and bloody mess. Our adversary… no, -my- adversary right now… was grotesque, and clearly not well-built because of ease but suffering. Somehow I felt a strange sympathy for this once man, perhaps because we walked the same universe, forging us into what we are today.

Warriors.

No time for good looks and mild manners, just a strong tool of sorts born into this reality.

I pointed the tip of my cruel sword at him. At -it-. The words which came from my mouth even surprised myself. Even as my voice was raspy.

“You may have taken down most of my platoon, but I will defeat you every damn day, twice on the last day of the month if I have to.”

The sun was nearly up over the horizon, and the battle of this night was soon to come to a conclusion. One final exchange I was guessing. Before the thing went to sleep and I could recover.

Whoever told swordplay should be fair and square, would notice here it was just a losing proposition. This place has been a death ring, cruel and hard. However, it also transformed lengthy sessions of suffering into this immense capability of buffering pain. Right now every muscle seized up, and I sense how my body was struggling to recover. I was unable to move with grace, my cracked lips failing at the first syllable I wished to bring out as next.

“You… shall… not…”

Of course now of all times it had to strike at me. My shield made its entry late, but I sensed its magic within resonate strongly and throughout my arm. It wouldn’t be enough though. Not for the next night. The sound of that iron bar hitting the surface seemed to echo forever inside the walls of this open air trap.

“Really now…” Scarlet blood was flowing into my eyes. I looked at the undead. “I may be a warrior of the Savage Frontier, but I’m a warrior nonetheless. Or I will be. I may be of mixed religion and therefore perhaps undogmatic, but I’ve been adopted by Bane regardless. Or I’m going to be. And you… sir, you are so ugly your mother was so terrified she abandoned you instantly. Heck, it would have been even impossible to marry you off due your… lethal dimensions. And…and…”

The tree-sized bat came down. Yes, I had pissed him off. I managed to dodge the deadly blow, but the earth shook under my armored feet and nearly knocked me over. The surrounding hill flanks rumbled with the sound of distant thunder. It was… unsettling. I still don’t know what drove me forth, perhaps it was the combined rush of adrenaline and shock or just the physical pain in nearly every bone of my body, but in spite of feeling the weight of my limitations… I lashed out at the daunting presence of my enemy.

In that merely split second something changed. It was as if the surrounding atmosphere shifted, and became charged with a palpable energy that emanated from another realm. It infiltrated my essence and albeit unsettling permeating my core, I sensed an all consuming longing power.

Anger. As my strike hit home, I could both feel it within me as well as the creature. The second blow stirred up a tempest of even darker emotions. Desires, urges, cruelty, deceit and violence. I had always felt disconnected from any sense of higher purpose, but right now it was as if I experienced a divine guidance!

The suddenness and severity of my next blow sent the undead’s lower arm soaring through the sky. Of course it wouldn’t just let me so when it lashed out with its fist, the array of pain sensations was too complex for me to grasp. I went down on the earth floor and looked up at my doom. The impact of the creature’s next hit would likely be able to affect structures.

And then all of a sudden there was that surge of energy again, coursing through my veins, filling me with an indomitable strength and resolve. Instinctively I lifted my shield, or whatever was left of it. And…

Pain… yes. But in some wicked way I was enduring it. My shield, my arm, it all felt fortified, enhanced, no… -ready- to face any challenge. Just like the mind games with Sanders. It was as if the pain I now was suffering from emphasized what truly mattered. I don’t know what had caused this shift in perspective, but maybe pain was able to help me navigate future hardships,... provided… I survived this encounter.

It felt like more though. It was as if I was able to harness the pain’s transformative power, as if it heightened my senses, and enabled me to perceive my foe’s weaknesses. There! I slammed the shield’s bottom into one of the giant undead’s kneecaps. It went down immediately and I managed to roll aside from underneath just in time. For a moment I felt like I had been granted the wisdom of the ages, that I possessed a strategic advantage that empowered me to predict my adversary’s next movements.

Never have I felt more alive, as if every fiber of my being was infused with some strange energy. I managed to get up and my next strike resonated with a power that surpassed all my your previous limitations. I struck at its head with a ferocity and a determination that left zero room for hesitation or doubt. I was the stronger force of us thanks to this seemingly essence I carried within me. Or was I part of some kind of wicked transcendent experiment?

With grace I seperated head from body and the giant creature fell silent. Slowly I returned to a state where I was able to sense my blood rushing through my veins, and that unmistakable rhythmic pulsating throb echoing in my ears like a relentless drumbeat. All a primal reminder of my body's innate capacity to push its limits, but also to recover from such. As the sun rose I was standing in the middle of this deadpit, left behind as sole survivor, with a now palpable sense of fatigue and depletion.

I sank to my knees but managed to remove my helmet and drank in the first rays of light. This grounding sensation provided me with a reminder of the fragility and resilience of the human body, but also with a sense of accomplishment. The body was a complex device that enabled one to interact and engage with the surrounding world, and that carried one through life’s challenges and victories. I looked around me, at my fallen platoon members, and at the undead. This surely had been one. My head snapped up at sudden clapping from above. I recognized the figure immediately as Sanders.

Man, did he really have to be there every step, every inch of my life?


“Well done, Jezebeth. Well done. And now, make your choice.”

“Choice… sir…?”

“Ah yes, you get to pick two members of your platoon to be resurrected.”

“Sir…?”

“Don’t delay. Oh and… rest assured! The dead can’t blame you!”

“But… what about the others then?”

Sanders waved dismissively. “Expendable.”

“But…”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Jezebeth. We only push on with the strongest and the best.” He turned around, ready to walk away but then paused another moment. “Oh, and you still have a long way to go before you’re even close to that. A true platoon leader wouldn’t have had that many of her group butchered.”

Jezebeth clenched her armored fist as Sanders disappeared from sight.

She murmured to herself, “If a bully is the smoke… I swear I’ll be the fire.”

Slowly she got up. She smoldered with resentment and a rage flowed through her like molten lava. But, she would be patient. She would cherish the vortex of anger which swirled inside her. Even as she struggled she would nurture it, and allow it to harden her.

With nothing but dark, consuming thoughts the dark haired woman left the pit after marking two bodies for the announced anastasis.

It was agonizing, the way how he looked at me. I was able to endure this from Sanders, but not from ser Waters. He paced back and forth, his footsteps in itself instilled a holy fear, and I could live with that… but not with that disapproving silence and expression. I can’t explain why it mattered so much to me. Maybe it’s because I always considered him the ‘good guy’ of the two.

When he stopped in front of me, it was as if his figure was sculpted from nightmares and raw might. I stared at his arms, his chest, and finally his face, all chiseled to perfection. Every muscle, each sinewy strand a testament that spoke of countless battles and an unyielding dedication to his cause. He wore a menacing breastplate of polished obsidian that adorned his formidable frame. The material seemed to absorb the very light nearby, casting an aura of dread upon those who dared to gaze upon him.

I barely braved those piercing eyes that burned with an infernal glow. He was angry. No, he was pissed at me. He raised his hand at me, and the looks of that in itself made me tremble, just by the memory. To me, that fist, -his- fist was like a weapon of unparalleled ferocity, forged in the very depths of the immeasurable Abyss. Yes, he commanded respect and fear, and to cross his path was to invite doom upon yourself. Learned that the first time in that cave.

“In-adequate, Jezebeth. Sanders was right.” He lowered his fist. “If you hadn’t survived this, that would have been your last day ever in this world. And that would have been…”

He stopped, and looked away as if he no longer could look at her.

I knew better than to respond or speak. This was not the time, not with him, not with ser Waters. Why was I even curious about what he was to express?

“You’ll be send out with your two favourites. There’s a village who’s not paying their respect, and not delivering what we’ve agreed upon. I’m ordering you to bring them to their senses and pay the price.”

“Yes, ser. The price?”

He nodded. “You bring back recruits. We have to replenish troops. Especially after that stunt you pulled.”

Ouch… that hurt more than all my exercises together. It cost me every bit to not flinch or blink. Such would only have been a sign of weakness, and every sign of weakness in here was punished severely.

The man had turned his back on me. “Yes, ser. When do I leave?” After all I was still beat-broken from my fight with the undead and the journey back.

“You’re still even here? Sanders will hand you the map.”

I knew better than to bow. I made sure all he could hear were my quickly departing footsteps. Hopefully they expressed my intention to set things ‘right’.


Sanders, smiling smugly at me, was already waiting outside, holding the rein of a black horse. Next to it were my two resurrected platoon members, packed and saddled up. The rain and the dark sky was just enough to turn this into another miserable day.

“Here there’s the map. And this is the first and the last time I provide you with the service of packing your gear and seeing to your mount. In fact, you owe me one after this.”

I frowned… and I know I shouldn’t have cause as soon as I did, Sanders was standing nose to nose with me.

“Something to say… platoon leader? Not this time then ey? Marvelous! And if you’re a good girl we’ll continue to train you! We’ll whip any weaknesses from your bones and you will fall in line like thunder with lightning! Your boots will eat land and your lungs will breathe Bane! We will mold you into an instrument of destruction, and your enemies will tremble at the might of the Black Network! Do you copy, soldier?!?”

I could only nod.

“Splendid! Don’t you think then now would be a good time for you to start showing some gratitude?!”

“Yes, sir! Of course sir! I’ll be right on my way, sir!”

My hate I had to swallow. Before I unleashed it upon our sergeant’s head. Before I swept his body across this land like a tempest, leaving nothing but his bones and entrails in my wake. I could see now that would be grave error.

Still, a wonderful dream…

Fueled by the fire of my own convictions and the hope of a better future for myself I drove off with my companions right behind me.

The weight of her mission settled on her shoulders as Jezebeth and her companions spurred their horses forward in an attempt to please their masters on the quickness of settling the matter. Rain-soaked earth flew in all directions from beneath hooves, the sound echoed ahead like an ominous prophecy. The valley into which they descended was shrouded in a sleepy mist, its inhabitants likely unaware of the impending amercement. Or worse…

They traversed through a winding path into a dense forest just as Jezebeth contemplated the gravity of her task. Ser Waters had proven more unpredictable than she had anticipated, and she wondered what would truly please him. Had she not done enough by beating the undead and proven to be strong warrior? Did he really expect her to become a leading force? Why even? Their relationship, or whatever their understanding could be called, had changed so much with these new expectations.

And what would be even the price of failure??

She looked from left to right at her platoon members who rode silently beside her. Neither had spoken a word, but their eyes reflected a mixture of both determination as well as doubt. Was that on her?

All three of them had been turned into instruments of destruction, forged within the walls of the very prison that held them captive, until as of late. Their masters, both Sanders as well as ser Waters seemed to put their faith in them for yet another mission. Or perhaps a shared destiny?

They had reached the outskirts of the defiant village. Jezebeth signaled for her companions to halt, the tension palpable in the cool air. Those people had no lookouts, the place seemed pretty much asleep, unaware of a confrontation that would shatter its tranquility in no time.


Fools! Why did these weaklings didn’t even put a single guard at their gate? Provided that this pity construction up ahead was intended as one. They don’t even deserve to survive this. Amidst all the dangers this world has to offer, they live like this? And they truly believe that they could escape anything?


Jezebeth dismounted, her boots sinking into the mud as she approached the village. With every single step, not only the memories of her training and Sander’s relentless pursuit of perfection echoed in her mind. From a young age she had been shapen in the crucible of battle and war. Any innocense she had left was stripped away by the harsh life of the barbarian clan.

She had been out on missions even before the Black Network. With icy winds that whipped across fjords, over rugged landscapes and rocky cliffs that brought her spirit to freedom. In the background, the rhythmic cadence of wardrums, and the haunting shouts of berserkers preparing for a fight. She noticed she had a certain thirst for glory, an urge to achieve. Something in all this was propelling her, no matter the cost. The loss of loved ones, comrades fallen around her, had never before pierced her hardened exterior. The strong live, the weak die, it was as simple as that. If one cannot stand as a beacon of strength and resilience, how could he or she then take care of the next generation?

Ah, people have finally woken up! And just when I imagined them running. Hmm, perhaps some did.

Her arrival was met with wary gazes and whispered conversations. Standing at the forefront of the small population was the village elder, a leader and in Jezebeth’s eyes a supposed to be beacon of resistance against the encroaching darkness she and her companions were about to deliver. But all she could see was an old man, who was no more than skin over bone, the wind blowing his beard behind him.

This is ridiculous! How am I even supposed to find any recruits out here??

In her mind’ s eye she already saw herself forced to behead a few just to get things done. With a deep breath she confronted their leader. “I’m here to demand compliance and submission to the will of the Black Network. Since you and the rest of your people have forsaken their duties, you will have to pay the price.”

The man’s eyes widened and he looked around at his mumbling folks. Then he raised his hand and brought them to silence. “Can I have your name, lady?”

She sighed. “I don’t even see what that w…; Jezebeth. My name is Jezebeth.”

“Just… Jezebeth?”

I frowned at him.

“Not captain, or sergeant… or…?”

“Look man! I’m cold, I’ve had a few very conflicting couple of days, and I really would like to return home. Rather soon than late. Pay the price. We want…” I held up three fingers.

“Three…? But miss Jezebeth, we have no one to spare. And during spring we need every hand we can to harvest the crops.”

“Don’t care, that’s your problem. Figure it out. And don’t leave us standing here. We want a place to rest, and meet you back here in two hours.”

“No…”

“Great, uh… what?” I was already headed towards one of the houses as this bloody bastard managed to freeze me in my tracks.

“You heard me, miss Jezebeth. I said, no.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are not in a position to make such demands. We have received no word from your superiors, nor do you seem to carry a missive with you. For all I care you may be slavers or worse.”

I marched swiftly back until I was nearly standing nose to nose with him, just in the way how Sanders had done with me.

“Look… village-idiot, or whatever you declare to be. If we had been slavers or worse, your fine little settlement would already have been pillaged and burned to the ground. It is the Black Network that keeps such from doing so.” I looked around. “Which appears not an unnecessary luxury.”

The village elder shook his head. “But they’ve already taken several of our people…”

I narrowed my eyes. “... to forge and mold them…

His voice sounded weaker by now. “... and several died…”

“... to have only the best of the best successfully protecting this territory and expand. Yes… something else you wished to add? No?... Superb! Can we get back to our business then?”

“Fine… miss Jezebeth, I’ll let you know who will join you.”

“What? Oh no! Forget about that, we make our own picks. Just make sure you find everyone, shake them out of their beds and have them lined up.”

The man’s shoulders sagged. Splendid. I had my win.

As we made our way to one of the houses, Jard came walking next to me.

“You sounded almost like him.”

I frowned at the man. “Sounded… like who?”

Jard grimaced. “Like Sanders.”

The question that troubled me was of course… what if.

What if the village elder never managed to gather up all the available heads? We weren’t stupid. The map Sanders provided us with also mentioned the number of people in this small community. I wondered if the Network had this kind of intel about all the villages that fell under their control. Likely.

But yes. What if? Honestly, I had no idea and I figured this may be some kind of test, to see how I operate with whatever I had to work with. And that wasn’t exactly a lot. Meanwhile I actually required actions to back up our demands, in case things went south. The pressure was already in place, though it alone may not be enough.

I canted my head. The wind had at first been murmuring in the distance, but it had in fact been whispering the secrets of an impending storm. I looked out the window. And whereas the first tendrils of twilight painted the sky in shades of miserable gray upon our arrival, it now looked as if the ominous shadow of a giant devil lord began to engulf the village.


Just great. Just what we needed. More delay.

My coin dropped faster than the rain that had started to assault the facade of the modest building. Ser Waters wouldn’t want me to wait here over some bad weather. He’d want his recruits on the double. As in rather yesterday than tomorrow.

A coldness crept into the air, and into my bones. The few trees in the proximity of the village bowed in submission to the increasing force of nature, their branches like arms quivering in the gale as if pleading for mercy.

I groaned as I got up from the bunk after only a tiny moment of rest. By the time I hit the door, the heavens opened with a suddenness that sent shivers down even my spine. Fat raindrops, cold as ice, began to bombard the helpless shoulders of villagers lining up. They looked quite uncertain and clearly wondered if the current circumstances wouldn’t excuse them.

Nothing of that under my watch!


I marched outside while the sandy pathway under my boots transformed into a river of mud and despair. I noticed the villagers shivering when they saw my approach. This was an excellent opportunity to get this over with rather quickly. None of these lame souls would be as hardened as me against this kind of weather.

The villagers likely realized the fury of the twinstorm that was about to him them, many in their fantasies hurriedly seeking refuge within the confines of their humble abodes. Well, they could. Afterwards. First they needed to become acquainted with the concept of relentlessness. I bet to some it was still quite abstract.

I arrived before their lines accompanied by the mournful wail of the wind, likely shattering any beacon of hope they may have had.


“Miss Jezebeth… you had told us two hours?” The village elder began.

“And I’ve changed my mind.” I made a dismissive hand gesture. “Is this all?”

“N… no, not yet… we only had started calling up everyone.”

“Not my problem. We’ll work with whoever we have here.” I replied, snide like I meant it to sound.

The old man widened his eyes. “But… but…”

I let my gaze travel over the faces, ignoring the idiot. Likely there were a couple of folks here he hoped to protect. Again, not my problem. The only problem I have was that I had to make this recruitment look good in my master’s eyes.


Hm. Amidst this chaos and despair, I should be looking for people who remained with a quiet resilience, a steadfast determination to weather the storm that was upon them. Scaredy-cats were so out of the question. I looked for people who could stand model for what this village was supposed to look like, with a spirit that was able to endure. I didn’t look for people who prayed for a new dawn. Those were the ones who weren’t able to handle the darkness and gloom in between daytimes.

It would be lovely if some villagers would step up from their line, weary, frightened perhaps yet seemingly unbowed, ready to be tamed for the purposes of the Network. But that was wishful thinking. I’m aware.

I paced strongly back and forth the lineup, my sharp eyes scanning their faces.

“You there!” I pointed at a relatively young man who was missing a few fingers. “What’s your name?”

“Jenden, miss Jezebeth.”

I motioned. “What happened to your hand?”

“The work on the land, a tool that was too sharp.” He shrugged.

This guy was perfect. He didn’t make a big deal of his misfortune, and he didn’t talk too much. I motioned. “You come.”

When I arrived at the end of the line I noticed a female who hadn’t been standing there a moment ago. “Name?” I asked as I circled her like a predator assessing its prey.

“Mirana, miss.”

Whispers began to spread amongst the other villagers. I arched a brow and looked at one sternly. “What?”

“She..” The man motioned at Mirana. “She’s not one of us. She’s someone’s girlfriend and from a place outside the village.”

Just when I thought people couldn’t be more stupid, the truth was like a carpet roughly being pulled from underneath me. What did I care. As long as I had three good people.

The young woman looked healthy and didn’t display a lot of emotions. I motioned again. “Pack her up.”

Jard immediately went to stand behind Mirana whom looked up at the tall albino in a way I cannot describe.

“As for my final pick… hmm…” I was tearing their world anyways. Three souls more or less however wouldn’t make the difference for this pity community. They were under the protection of the Network, more or less, but I did hope they’d have an insight experience that would compel these people to do things differently.

My gloved hand descended upon the head of a young boy. I could see how these villagers consider such a steal on their future, but they should realize this boy might return as a man able to defend their little community.


Oh yes, the storm indeed raged on, both literally and metaphorically. A few villagers began to find their voices, as if united by the common desire to defy the ‘oppressive force’ of the Network.

As I mounted my steed I only shook my head at the small crowd and said. “Such a shame you all have been so passive at first.” I looked at those people protesting against my final choice. “I would have made totally different picks if I had known about your brave fire. Lesson learned. Hopefully.”

Unless this insignificant event was their ultimate downfall…

I whipped my horse and the six of us disappeared in the stormy night and into the forest like black ghosts who closed the door of Avernus behind them.

Thunder echoed ominously over our heads, followed by lightning sparks that hunted us down like a pack of wolves. Rain lashed down our backs with relentless fury, -the treacherous paths and jagged rocks up ahead- now and then illuminated by the flashes from above.

I spurred my magnificent steed, charging him up the rocky hillside as we abandoned the valley. Several sets of hooves clattered against the stones behind me as the others kept up. We were damn lucky those three ‘recruits’ knew how to handle a horse. I suppose that could pass for another plus over my picks?

Through a maze of boulders and thickets we went up and began our climb. My heart pounded in my chest, not because of fear, but from adrenaline as I navigated over the slippery and treacherous terrain. When I looked over my shoulder I noticed the boy, the youngest of the three villagers, clinging to his mare, eyes wide with awe and terror. But even as we carried on and the storm intensified, he refused to let it break his resolve.

Summits loomed like ancient guardians of the night, and branches of the few trees left swung vividly. Suddenly, a deafening crack echoed throughout the valley and we got blinded for a brief moment by a brilliant flash.

“BACK, BACK!” I shouted as I overheard a loud, splintering sound resonating from the path ahead.

A pine tree's core had erupted in a fiery explosion of sparks and smoke. The wood, now weakened and broken, began its slow descent toward the crust, and towards us. Time seemed to slow down as the massive tree toppled. Branches protested fiercely on impact, and trashed wildly about as it began to roll down the slope.

The ground trembled beneath its weight, and the few surrounding trees swayed ominously as if in a mournful lament over their fallen comrade. Luckily for us though the tree came to rest against a pile of rocks, but not without blocking the narrow path up.

We were trapped and surrounded by darkness, and I faced a moment of despair. Don’t know why. Maybe because of the dangers I was well aware of? There was always a risk of being surprised by a flood of water that came down the mountains, over pathways like these that have been carved out of the land by glaciers and temporary rivers of rain over the centuries.

“We have to find another way!” I shouted, my voice filled with urgency. I moved off the path, up the hill, forging a new one through trees and rocks. Down this path we crossed fallen logs, numerous rushing streams created by the lashing rain, and over extremely slippery rock surfaces. Our horses were the surprise of the day. The more they sensed the urgency of their riders, the harder they strained against the wind and terrain.

Occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the land ahead, and revealed the intense concentration on the faces of my fellow riders. Exhausted and weary we eventually managed to escape from the top layer of the valley, and left most of the unforgiving elements of nature behind us.

I turned my horse to look at the boy as he made it up, and canted my head. I bet he hasn’t seen much yet in his life, and this little adventure thus far was already etched in his soul, likely forever. I nodded to myself before I pushed on.

Better this than a tragic or boring end in that pity village of his. I don’t know which of the women had been the boy’s mother, provided he still had one. But with a bit of luck she could make a song about him and his awesome power one day…

The vast expanse of the stronghold was dimly illuminated by sporadic torches lining the dark cold surfaces. The silence indoors today was punctuated only by occasional creaks and groans of the old structure due the very walls and roofs bearing a cargo of snow. Footsteps of two people echoed -deliberate and discrete at the same time- as they moved through the shadowy environment. The faint sound of a calm conversation faded in the distance of the corridor, and completed died out as the door towards a secluded chamber was shut.

With a metallic clink ser Waters put his weapon against the wall as he looked over to the other man who was just like him clad in a black attire. A pervasive silence fell over the room as their eyes met. These moments of eye contact between them had evolved into an unspoken language binding them in a unique, wordless connection. Ser Waters knew immediately what the other man wished to discuss, so he simply nodded.

“She is exactly what I thought, even though she has no idea yet of the path that is destined. Thus far I don’t sense any limitations either in order for…”

The other man cut him off swiftly simply by raising his hand.

“Are you in love with her?”

Ser Waters nearly blinked, but instead canted his head thoughtful before replying. “I am in love with how her story unfolds. And I’ll likely be in love with the role she’ll play once she arrives at her destiny.”

“Sanders is concerned about your judgement. How are you dealing with that?”

Ser Waters smirked. “With Sanders, or with my judgement?”

The silent stare from the other man spoke louder than words ever could. He was the only person who could make ser Waters flinch. Not for nothing that he was his master.

“Sanders will always try and undermine, that is his nature. And I… keep him close so others get an example of how I deal with such. Currently he tries to get to me through her. Just like previous times he’ll find himself put in his place, -the place where he belongs- and preferably publicly.”

“Hm.” His master nodded. “I’m not going to tell you how to handle people like Sanders. I leave it to you to carrot and stick him as you see fit. However, you nominated Jezebeth for your personal cohort, and that is actually what drew my attention.”

“I did. I notice fragments of unwavering dedication, close to loyalty. She’s not a zealot and she keeps going in spite of the ruthless training we throw at her. She… instills fear, at least in a number of people, and I’m certain Sanders feels it too.”

“She’s a barbarian, Waters. Those can be persistent as well. But what will she learn about subversion and infiltration? Would she ever be able to blend into societies?”

Ser Waters looked up at the ceiling, pensive staring at the darkness. “I don’t think such would be laid down in Bane’s roadmap for her. She’d adopting something else seemingly, and the strangest thing about it?”

“Hm?”

“It’s all going rather natural. Some of it requires unlocking, but it’s all there, ingrained in her design. And I think she has been Chosen.”

“Elaborate. You’re on thin ice here, Waters.”

Ser Waters frowned. “I know, much of this is beyond mortal perception, and we can’t be sure what tapestries the Gods weave for us. But her course? It’s as if it’s being manipulated with a sense of perverse delight, and we are part of said manipulation. Look… they lead us over their expansive cosmic chessboard, they orchestrate events or cause them to collide or intertwine.”

The master nodded and motioned ser Waters to resume.

“They observe us, and through subtle whispers they grant us progress, or suggestions how to proceed. Sometimes they empower us, sometimes they curse us, and sometimes we just get caught in divine crossfire. But Jezebeth? I dare to say I notice a pattern. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but I do know I like to find out. And I can only do so by keeping her close.”

“So she becomes your favorite.”

“I’ll sleep with her if I have to, yes. If that is part of the cosmic dance in order to navigate her and the Network through this world.”

“I’ll allow it, but I have one condition before she becomes part of your cohort.”

Ser Waters looked up at his master. “Of course?”

“Send her to me first.”

“Jezebeth?”

I hated that voice. “Yes, sir?”

“Ah, fantastic. Caught you just before washing up. You’re being summoned.”

I stood there ready to peel off my soaked underclothing after I had returned from my little expedition to the valley village. My arms dropped next to me in a way that must have expressed my unrivalled exhaustion, with it sparking a frown on Sanders. “Right now, sir?”

“I wouldn’t have come all the way down here to be your delivery boy and only to bounce communication back and forth between you and the big man.”

“I’ll step into Ser Waters’s office in a moment then.”

Sanders shook his head at me and motioned with his finger up. “I said, the big man.”

I blinked. “Up… up in the tower?”

“You heard me right. Unless you need a hand with something…”

I didn’t like the way how he looked at me and thus crossed my arms at him. A symbolic way of telling no.

“Oh Jezzy, don’t be like that. We both know you have needs just like everyone else. We could put a blanket over your head, and then you can pretend it’s Sir Waters.”


Around Sanders I’ve always been like a simmering cauldron. Every shard of criticism, “lark” and frustration has been adding drop to drop to the boiling brew. But right now my breath became like a tempest, turbulent and heavy. My veins pulsed like rivers of lava, crackling with energy and ready to burst their banks. I realized I was like a storm that has been gathering power, one that was now threatening to break down the calm facade that was Sanders’s face.

“One day you will meet a shadow that slips through the darkest forests, whispering in the silence of the night. And all your deeds and secrets will be laid bare before you, like fragile insects pinned to a board. There will be no hiding for you from the gaze of your own fears. And you know what will happen then…?... Nothing, save for that trail you’ll leave of piss and faeces.”

The man’s face paled a bit as I passed him, dressed like I had been when he arrived.

And then I suddenly stopped just outside my quarters but within earshot. It was as if I realized my words were wrapping around Sanders like ethereal chains.

“Don’t ever think you’ll be able to run cause I’m not going anywhere. Darkness is eternal, by design. And after all, didn’t you teach me only fools seek solace in false hopes, and that there is no dawn behind the horizon. Only an endless night that will devour every flicker of birdbrained optimism.” I raised my hand without turning to the man. “It is inevitable. Better get used to the shadows that will be dancing on your soul… sir.”

And with that I took off to the tower, somewhat aware of an oppressive aura about me that has struck Sanders’s very core.

“Jezebeth?”

I froze in my tracks, not far from the guarded door that led into the tower. Ser Waters stepped in view from the darkness. I can’t believe how such an imposing figure managed to stay out of sight. Perhaps it were his clothes, and that cloak. As if it were made of deep, velvety shadows, adsorbing the very essence of light and obscuring the silhouette within. The moment he stepped from the blackness and in front of me, it was as if the shadows themselves reluctantly gave birth to the man’s presence. Anything elusive before was now crystal clear, sharp and visible.

I recovered rather quickly from my surprise and saluted him. “Ser Waters.”

He took me in, and whereas Sanders gave me the creeps, Ser Waters’s enigmatic presence was enough to send shivers down my spine. No, he wasn’t looking at me like ‘that’.

He could though…


There was only a brief glint of malevolence in his eyes visible, but somehow I sensed it wasn’t directed at me.

“Are you going to see him… like that?”

And with like that he meant me in my underwear. I offered him an almost careless shrug. “You people command to jump, I ask how high. Correct?”

Ser Waters nodded at me. “That is correct, but we also have a form of etiquette. I do understand however why you are here like this.” He gazed in the direction where I came from. Sanders was either hiding, or returning to his everyday occurrence.

When I followed his gaze behind me I sensed how his hands put his personal cloak around me. He offered me a nod and stepped aside.

I nodded back and -hiding my emotions- I resumed my way towards the tower to see the ‘big man’. A breeze blew through the hallway, and the cloak lightly billowed and swirled, making it seem as if darkness was alive.


I ascended the spiral staircase with measured steps. I didn’t want to let them think I was unhinged or shaken. Under no circumstances. The echoes of my footfalls resonated through the dimly lit hallway, and there was nothing that seemed to absorb the sound. Only bare, cold walls. Just like the ones in our quarters. Torches flickered briefly as I passed them, their energy highlighting the contours of my determined climb.

As I reached the upper floors, the air carried the scent of aged parchment. One final creak of a worn wooden step announced my arrival at the top. I don’t know what it was but up here the atmosphere felt… charged. As if the tower was breathing with a life of its own, blowing its elusive secrets about me. My breath steadied… somewhat. There was a single door and it was open. Clearing my throat I stepped in, the distant echoes of my own heartbeat reverberated through my own, almost ceremonious silence.


The room was surprisingly clean and modest. A fireplace, a hardwood floor, a well built cabinet and…

My shoulders squared, my muscles tensed, and only that cloak hid my vulnerability, almost functioning like an armor of strength as I faced the ‘big man’.

“You must be Jezebeth. You can call me Lord Vacran. Well met…”

Lord Vacran motioned me to step over towards the table, on it was a map spread out. I assumed it represented the Network’s territory. Or a part of it. His voice was calm when he spoke.

“I once met this man we called Centurion Lumus, with a significant indicator of character as a whole. No one knew who Lumus was at the time, other than a decorated warrior of sorts. He fought as one of the secutores, fancying one of those shiny, loose fitting helmets. His opponents were prisoners of war, with among them some of the most mean killers I’ve ever witnessed. Lumus was equipped with nothing more but a trident and a weighted net, like the typical retiarii.”

As he talked I balanced on my feet and nodded. Not that I’ve ever seen such a fighting style.

“One would consider him a weak matchup against classic sword and armor. But he used the net both as a shield as well as a way to blind and trap his foes with calculated precision.”

Lord Vacran looked thoughtful a moment before he continued.

“Their judgement about Lumus became clouded, their perception of reality distorted. Those effectively caught in the net experienced a state of despair.”

I canted my head with a slight frown at Lord Vacran, but stood still with my hands behind my back.

“Gradually… his appearance in itself was sufficient to allow him manipulating combat situations and gain control over his duels. Escaping from this influence he possessed… had eventually become a psychological matter, not just a physical one.”

I didn’t speak before I was told to, so I simply nodded.

He turned his gaze on me, deadly serious. “The only sound I heard ever since was applause for Lumus. Escaping from a defeat by him was a difficult and arduous process.”

When he stepped closer towards me, I suddenly felt uneasy. This man was obviously cloaked in an aura of authority, but that wasn’t the only thing that suffocated any semblance of comfort or ease. There wasn’t a predatory gleam in his eyes, but it felt as if my willpower eroded by some sort of insidious influence. As if the… very fabric of my reality was bend to accommodate this man’s wishes.

Even with the absence of words right now, Lord Vacran’s presence spoke relentless volumes of a language I couldn’t quite comprehend. He didn’t advance any further on me but then he nodded at me.

“What… are you, Jezebeth. A sword? Or… a net?”

---

I’ve no idea how long I spent in Lord Vacran’s tower. At some point I just stepped into the hallway below. I wrapped Ser Waters’s cloak closer around me as I started to make my way back to my quarters, a frown to myself.

“And?”

It was Ser Waters who made me look up from my pensive step. I figured he wanted his cloak back but he immediately gestured no when he saw what my hands were about to do.

“I have to depart on a new mission. After a night’s rest.” Eventually, I thought.

Ser Waters crossed his arms. “Where are you being send?”

I frowned. “To another village, more a town actually. For the same reason as the former one. They didn’t contribute enough, seemingly due some crusader who stationed himself there and convinced the people to revolt.”

He widened his eyes slightly and then nodded once. “I’m coming with you.”

I looked up at him. “That’s exactly what Lord Vacran instructed me to tell you.”

“Hm. Very well. Anything else?”

My fingers slid down the front of my neck. “Ah, when I succeed I become part of his cohort or something?”

When his gaze lingered upon me, he seemed… captivated albeit conflicted over something. I wasn’t sure what to think of it, but I nodded once. “If there is nothing else, sir? Permission to freshen up and get some rest before we depart.” Again, I thought. He waved me off and thus I went.


Ser Waters’s eyes followed her. It felt like he was torn and he knew it was wrong. Her presence and now this… plot twist somehow cast a spell of uncertainty upon his mind. She was otherworldly, like descended from the heavens above. Every curve of her body, every aspect of her soul, sculpted by the hands of whatever entity. Beneath her surface however lurked a darkness, with this tantalizing hint of danger, beckoning him like a siren's song. Dark flames in her eyes ignited a spark of both fear and fascination within his being. Angel, or sent by the Dark Lord himself?

Whatever be of it, at night when he was alone, just the thought of her lured him into the depths of intoxicating sin.

While I was preparing my horse, Sanders stepped into the stables. “I notice you learned your lesson. Getting your own ride ready now? Good, seems we are finally getting somewhere with you.”

I offered him the desired salute, but that was all he’d be getting from me. For now.

“It also appears I’m to escort you as well to your next assignment. Seems you’re being evaluated.”

Seems you’re being manipulated, imbecile. It was me who requested for your presence. But instead of sharing that bit of intel, I simply offered the man a vague nod.

When I led my horse outside, the sun broke through the clouds. Nestled high among the rugged mountains, our fortified base received the first warmer rays like spears of gold as they managed to pierce the otherwise dense swirling clouds. There were glimpses of azure sky above, and I noticed how shadows around the infrastructure had grown shorter. There was still a rather icy wind and the overall landscape was wintery. But the ancient rock all about was standing out more than before. Like a silent testament to the determination of simply existing.

I wondered if the Black Network’s power would be just as enduring.


Our journey to the town took about three days, and although the scenery shifted quite perceptibly with each new vista bearing a new striking appearance compared to the last, the ride felt rather monotonous. A soldier without fleeting interruptions was a soldier who experienced a strong sense of sameness. I would almost miss the constant daily exercises mixed with deadly challenges. Time passing in a blur was also dangerous to said warrior. Awarness was a critical element, especially when moving towards a potential conflict. Thoughts started to drift aimlessly, and were lost in the repetitive rhythm of the journey.

Too much time on my hands, but the miles just stretched on. All I could do was keep moving forward.

I looked about. Four platoons had joined mine and together we looked rather imposing. We didn’t exactly wore uniformed attires, but we all were clad in black and metal. There were faces of veterans and of fresh recruits, expressions mostly a blend of determination. Our arrival wouldn’t go unnoticed. I imagined barricaded gates or doors, and some kind of militia trying to stand defiantly with their jaws clenched. Or huddling together in whispered conversations, weak attempts to seek solace and reassurance. One would hardly be able to call it a clash of wills once we’d get there.

Seeing our force and after some irrational form of consideration, they’d likely surrender quickly and allow us inside. Of course the first thing we needed to do was to teach them a lesson or two. Disciplining was imperative, a swift albeit calculated show of force in order to assert dominance and ensure future obedience. I considered the options.

An initial warning and sanctions had already been delivered. A public execution could only work with the real troublemakers, and if not too many. But when a population was united, some other scenario might be in order. We could isolate them, restrict their ongoing affairs with outsiders. It would be easily enough to enforce but it required some of the Network’s capacity. Targeted reprisals against individuals or groups would trigger violence and would call for short albeit explosive encounters until the will was broken. Hm… perhaps intimidation? Or a combination of…


“Town ahead!!”

I looked up from my musings and witnessed how defensive walls rose up from the horizon. Splendid… the town was sitting on a hill that overlooked the vast expanse of the countryside with walls that encircled the buildings in a protective embrace. I spotted at least two manned watchtowers. There was a layer of stone and wood which together formed a rather impressive barrier. I turned myself to look at Ser Waters and frowned.

He nodded back at me. “That wasn’t in the reports. Some form of palisade wall yes, but this is rather new.”

Sanders cackled. “Seems our friends have been busy.” He then turned to look amused at me.

For now I ignored him, but he did have a point. And I had a problem. This wouldn’t be as easy as the last. I had to figure out a way to adapt to this new information. As it turns out the gate also had one entrance only, and every arrowhead and bolt would be guarding that.

It was silent on the other side as we stopped just out of reach. Aside from a few heads here and there, there wasn’t exactly any nervous activity. Those guarding the walls stood quietly which was not very reassuring. I sighed. A stronghold it is.

Ser Waters nodded at me to indicate I had the lead in this and thus I motioned my horse to walk a bit further up towards the gate. For a moment there was only the sound of my steed’s hoofbeats reverberating through the stillness of the surrounding countryside, and the metallic jingle of my gear added to the symphony. With each step closer echoes intensified as the sound bounced off the rising walls.

Said echoes faded into the distance and were replaced by the heavy breathing of my horse and the faint rustle of my cloak in the wind.

I cleared my throat as I looked up. “I have come here seeking entrance to this town.” And I will not be deterred, I thought. For a tense moment I awaited a response from the defenders atop the walls.

And then finally a female voice sounded from above. “Are you doing so as a messenger of peace now, Banite?” Her tone dripped with incredulity and mockery, turning a simple question into a cutting remark.

“I suppose you could say I’m here to negotiate. Of sorts.”

The female cackled, and although I didn’t see her yet, the defenders atop the walls exchanged wary glances.

“Message received, in both directions I bet. And since we’re being all honest about ourselves and our intentions, why don’t you tell me who it is that comes knocking down on our doors to tell us doom is on its way.”

“My name is Jezebeth.” I briefly looked at the platoons behind me. “No title. No need for fancy stuff and not starting with it now either.”

More cackling. But then a woman stepped into view, her appearance otherworldly. Her hair was a cascade of achromatic platinum, and those eyes looking down at me were colorless. “Well met then, Jezebeth. I am Dawn, Crusader and Protector of this town.”

I sighed. Great. This woman just radiated paladinity. “Well, thats great to hear. Thank you for seeing to these people’s defenses. We’ll take it from here now. Just open this gate.”

Dawn looked amused down on Jezebeth. “That why they sent you? To break the ice more easily? Or are you a prankster by nature?”

“Does any of it matter at all, who I am? Would any of my answers change your thought about whether or not opening this town for us? No? Then that conversation would be a waste of time.”

I heard a man laughing behind me. It was Sanders. Seems he approved. I ignored him and focused on the task at hand. “Alright, what do you want, Dawn?”

“Now there’s an easy conversation. I want you to go back to the mountains where you came from, and leave this town be.”

“And leave them in your capable hands? You are going to protect them?”

The figure above me smiled as she motioned at the walls. “What does it look like?”

I stared back up at her. The melodic tinkling of my horse’s reigns cut through the silence like a blade.

Eventually I replied with a tone of disbelief. “Thats it? Walls?”

The Crusader narrowed her eyes at me. “Nice attempt, Banite. But you’re not getting any further detailed information from me.”

I shrugged. “Not that I expected any… intelligence from you.” Before I turned my horse around I glanced about the battlements, and the tense postures on it. My message didn’t need to reach Dawn. She’d simply be a waste of time.

Before I departed I waved. “Very well, we’ll leave you to consider our proposal. We shall return in a few months when the crops start to bear flowers.”


It was entertaining to watch Sanders nearly explode out of his skin with how I seemed to handle things.

“Are you insane, Jezebeth? Are we really leaving?” He started as soon as we were out of the town’s earshot. “Lord Vacran will hang you for this.”

And indeed, even Ser Waters looked visibly disturbed at me as I nodded towards Sanders.

“We are leaving. That woman leading their defenses is like a bloody valkyrie. But I beg to differ. Lord Vacran will rather do the opposite. There is however something you need to do for me… sir.”