A Legacy of Blades - An Epic Tower Fantasy

"What should we do with 'em, Boss? Nobody really pays a ransom anymore, an' we all know the lords can't be bothered with maggots like this. Hardly get outta bed for anythin' less than a High noble, nowadays," the gruff, scraggly man laughed.

He was unshaven, aggressively lean, and more than a few days past a proper wash, but that was hardly noticeable next to the ever-present stench of bog filth.

A marginally less bedraggled man spat back, "Let's finish gettin' their effects squared away before we go figurin' what to do with them, alright, Orrigan? Boss already told us as much while you were busy ogglin' her over there."

One of the men, clean cut with a piercing gaze, and clothes too crisp for the life these men led, sauntered over to join the conversation.

"So far, they have depressingly little to make this all worthwhile. It's amazing they've made it this far with the state of their rations. It speaks to their fortitude, though. Stronger men than you two would keel over after that rotten fare."

He glanced towards the fourth member of their group, who stood watch over the unfortunates they'd come across, five figures, huddled in a mass.

A man lay unconscious and bleeding beside a woman, stifling sobs as she held two children close. An older girl, barely into her adulthood, knelt on the other side of the man, her eyes darting between his still form, his chest rising irregularly, and the men who put him in this condition.

They'd known the dangers before they left their home, but the village was dying too quickly. They had to leave if they wanted any hope of seeing the other side of this tragedy. Hope, as it turned out, was a dangerous ally in those dark times, and a candle which drew trouble to those who stoked its flame.

When left with no safe course, desperation sank its claws into the family, pushing to find a path to survival, whatever the cost. As she knelt beside her father, the girl's face said all too clearly that she understood the cost. Putrid water seeped into his wounds, not so egregious on their own, inviting infection and infestation. He wouldn't make it through the week, even if he managed to pull through the night.

Hatred burned in her glare; the truth of what she would do to the men, if she weren't so powerless, was writ upon her face for all to see.

The man who didn't belong here looked upon her and laughed, amusement coloring his gaze. "Seems like they have some life left in them, though. Fortitude indeed. Any ideas, gents?"

The mother clutched the young ones closer still, her face draining of color as she stared between the man's vile gaze and her eldest daughter, her husband forgotten in a moment of terror.

"Oh, I can think of a few things," Orrigan began, massaging his shoulder as he looked towards the girl, "I owe 'em some payback after what that peasant did. I ain't done nothin' but stand in the way an' warn 'em of the danger, bein' out here an' all. Weren't right that you got to gut 'im like that, Lassir, not after he attacked me for no good reason."

"Orrigan, ain't no man alive as would see you barrin' the road and not take a swing. Downright foolhardy that would be. Only shame is he didn't manage to knock your ugly mug, mighta fixed a thing or two. Certainly couldn't'a hurt," the second man replied.

"Har har. Beat up on poor ugly Orri, looks have never stopped the ladies from lovin' up on 'im."

"Looks have never stopped you from lovin' up on them. Ain't got nothin' to do with the ladies, an' we all know it," Lassir laughed.

A sharp whistle from the clean-shaven man cut them off.

"You fine gentlemen can talk all you like when the job's done, but I'm not here to listen to this. Not all of us have to resort to such crude measures, and I'd sooner keep the image from my mind." He spat in the muddied water. "One way or another, we're going to have to do something with them, can't exactly just let them walk off scot-free after all this hassle."

"You're right, Boss. But they ain't got nothin' of value. We already sorted all that junk, an' ain't even a tool worth takin', hell, the hammer that fool used broke when he done smacked Orrigan, here."

"Right enough, Lassir, everything they have is junk." The girl ground her teeth at the derision, but the man only laughed. "But things aren't all that hold value. Nobles always need servants, no? Certainly not a bad life for wretches such as these. Better than they'd have found if they hadn't been fortunate enough to cross our paths."

Comprehension dimly lit Orrigan's dull eyes, "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You're a dolt, that's why," Lassir cajoled.

"Well, even if you're onto somethin' there, it's damn hurtful to say it so plainly," Orrigan replied, holding a hand over his chest in injury, "That one might have a bit too much fire in 'er belly for the life, though. What're you thinkin', Boss?"

"Right you are," the ungentleman said, "my ugly friend. Servants are best trained young, younger than her by a stretch. Still, desperation can be a wonderful ally. Take this one, here," he continued, indicating the children's mother, "She's far too old to be of much use under any normal circumstances, but she has with her such useful leverage, why, I find it hard to believe she'd put up much resistance, if given the proper motivation. Shame about the man, though. We can always use more laborers to fix the walls. Do be more careful with your application of force next time, Lassir."

"Yes, Boss!"

"The girl, though, she presents a problem. What are problems if not unrecognized opportunities, though? Some people might pay handsomely for a bit of fire—"

"--I know I would," Orrigan interjected.

A quick backhand from the boss silenced the man.

"One more remark from you and you'll find yourself the proud new owner of a detached manhood, not that the worm would be enough to use as bait. Unspoilt fire makes for a far better market."

The man stroked his chin, no stubble sounding from the motion. "Or, we can drag the man through the swamp and feed them to whatever beast heeds our call. Think you can make them appreciate our offer, Kellis," he called to the fourth man, not turning to look at him, "recognize the value of this opportunity we're offering?"

A gurgling sound preceded a voice the man didn't know.

Kellis fell to the ground as a stranger withdrew his spear, spitting on the still-warm corpse.

"Recognize this, bastards."

Ekkron stood over the beast, placing himself between the victims and the remaining monsters.

"Stay behind me and you might just make it out of this," Ekkron said, "I won't make any guarantees, though."

The bandits shifted positions, moving like a pack of rabid dogs. There was a coordination to their movements that spoke of experience together, but Ekkron could tell these weren't trained fighters at a glance. Mercenaries, maybe, but these were not men of the Steel, beaten into shape under the eye of a master craftsman.

"He won't make it. I'm sorry, but it's best if you say your goodbyes."

Walking calmly towards Ekkron, the least beastly of the men took up the center position. He looked out of place here, a detail that set off more alarm bells than Ekkron cared to note. The man's appearance spoke of class, of an observance to the finer aspects of civilization. Only his eyes belied the devil that writhed under that façade.

"Hold, friend," the man began, "I'd be careful, if I were you, before I made any more mistakes I couldn't take back. Kellis was, well, I won't say he was a good man, but he was loyal, well trained. Who knows what these mutts will do if I let them off their leash. From your colors, or at least what rags remain, you're just a local guardsman on patrol."

That observation alone told Ekkron enough to make him sweat.

Shit! This is a fucking mess. Only a few reasons he'd know that. Either he's educated, and no one who's nobody is educated like that, or he's a deserter. He doesn't look like a deserter.

"I'd hate to see a good man such as you step into something bigger than yourself," the man went on. "Much as I liked him, you've committed no crime greater than breaking one of my tools. We could overlook that minor transgression; all you'd have to do was walk away."

Something in the biped's eyes, those savage things, told Ekkron there would already be repercussions, one way or another. Even if he could trust the man and walk away free, no part of him could entertain the betrayal that would mean. He hadn't built himself back up, striving to be strong enough to carry their memory, only to abandon those in need.

"I can't," he said simply.

"Well," anger flashed across the beast's face for a fleeting glance, "Sure you can! Walking away is the easy part. Forgetting, that's much harder, but we could make sure you were properly compensated."

Yeah, maybe with a knife in the dark.

"Easy," Ekkron laughed, despite himself, "See, that's the problem. Nothing's easy, anymore, and I'm not out here because it's easy. Easy, nowadays, is a fast track to a dark road, and not one you come back from. Seeing the company I'd keep, I think I'll decline, friend."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The man looked between his allies. "Well, boys, you heard him. Guess we might get a laborer today after all. So nice of you to volunteer."

"You'll not be taking me anywhere. I will protect them, or I will die." Quietly, Ekkron finished, "I've failed too many already."

The splash of motion rippled from his left, as one of the dogs grew impatient at his challenge. The ghost of a smile lifted his cheek; thankful they were as trained as he thought.

"So be it," the devilish man replied.

Ekkron was already moving his spear to intercept the heavy sword the mongrel brought down in an overhead chop. He knew it wouldn't be enough; the tool had seen too much use, so he angled the shaft away, deflecting the blow even as it sheared the spear in two, leaving the guardsman with one in each of his hands. The heavy sword sank thickly into the mud, its momentum great to be stopped.

Ekkron set upon the man, wielding each half of the spear as a sword, he repeatedly bludgeoned the beast across its face. The ugly face grew increasingly swollen. At another eruption of splashing, Ekkron brought the point of his spear down into the thing's thigh, kicking him away as he turned to face the new threat.

The others approached him more cautiously, moving deliberately. He had managed to goad one into attacking early, but seeing his practiced motions clearly affected their resolve, giving him time to drop his ruined spear and draw his sword.

When he moved for his shield, they sprang into action.

Ekkron threw the partially withdrawn shield at the clean-shaven beast, causing him to dodge to the side and disrupting the timing of the attack. The second mutt, fortunately, was no better trained than the first, and after a brief exchange, Ekkron sliced its arm, making the creature drop its blade, and caught it with a pommel strike to the temple on the backswing. The body went limp, collapsing in a heap.

"You're well trained," the devil spoke as Ekkron rounded on the final threat, "I'll give you that. Sure I can't convince you to come work for me? I seem to be in need of new help," he finished, indicating the incapacitated and dead.

"I'd not tarnish that for which I fight by serving such a master," Ekkron spat. Bile rose within him, anger summoning it like the tides, but Ekkron maintained his composure.

"Ah, scruples," his foe replied, malicious glee overcoming the man, "they do make one so disagreeable. You'll find I'm better trained than the dogs in my employ."

As the beast moved forward, Ekkron could see the truth in his footwork. Eager to finally move the fight farther from the innocents, Ekkron kicked off.

The distance between the two vanished in an instant. Neither could penetrate the other's defenses, blow after blow deflected or parried, ripostes dodged, and feints foiled.

The pair stood on equal footing, but slowly, a pattern emerged. The devil before him might have an edge in training, but it was too polished, too mechanical. There was little adaptation in style, each strike favoring form over function. That alone merely closed the gap between them, but one other detail brought a smile to Ekkron's face.

The beast hadn't nearly as much practice fighting in the wetlands. It had been trained before the storms, and never adapted.

As this knowledge sank in, Ekkron let himself appear to be pushed, forcing the battle into more treacherous footing. You didn't patrol as often as he did without learning to use the environment. He'd learned from the best beasts out here.

Ekkron mocked a stumble, pretending to fall over a hidden hazard, and the devil in human skin advanced, eyes shining joyfully.

It sank to the waste in the softer ground Ekkron had thrown himself over as he "stumbled," and he brought his sword up, slicing across the monster's face. A splash announced the beast disarming itself, as its hands cupped its split visage.

Standing, Ekkron held his sword point resting on his foe's chest. "You won't harm anyone again. Rest easy, monster."

Hesitation stayed his hand for a moment, and the disfigured creature spoke, "You call me a monster, but you're out here, just like me. Tell me, what are you hiding from. I'm sure you tell yourself you're fighting beasts, keeping people safe, that you're more than a guard, you're a hero, but you're just out here satisfying your own bloodlust, raging against the heavens for what they've done to us."

It looked up, and smiled.

Blood stained its teeth as it spoke, "You're a monster, all the same."

Revulsion grew in Ekkron's chest, and he drew back his sword. He kicked the beast in the chest, unwilling to give any more truth to its words.

Knowing they couldn't linger, Ekkron moved swiftly to the family, all still kneeling around the father. "We need to leave, now." With a crack in his voice, he muttered, "I'll do it, if you ask, but his suffering should end."

The eldest sibling, so much fire in her eyes, looked into his own with a resolve that would haunt him. "I'll do it. I know he was never going to make it, but…I'll do it. I won't let anyone else touch him, mother."

The town was dark when Ekkron ushered the battered family inside. He hurried them to a safehouse he'd used in the past, for others he'd rescued from bandits or worse. People needed a place to lie low and recover, and a friend of his was happy to shelter people waylaid by misfortune. The times were dark enough, and her home was hauntingly empty.

"Come inside, you can rest here," the elderly woman said in hushed, gentle tones.

"Thank you, as always, Astrid. You're a saintess to the lost."

She looked away, embarrassed by his words, seeming unwilling to meet his eye. Ekkron turned to what remained of the family.

"Astrid is good people, she's helped a lot of folks like you. She'll make sure you're comfortable." He sighed, exhaustion from the day sinking deep into his bones. "I need to check in after my patrol, make my report. I'll be back in the morning with supplies."

The family disappeared inside without a word, spirits beaten from loss. His gaze lingered a moment, and the brave girl peered out of the doorway, her gaze softened and watery.

"Thank you," she said as she closed the door behind them.

Ekkron couldn't smile. If only I could have done more.

Ekkron awoke in the morning, sore, but that was hardly new. With a grunt, he set about gathering everything he could that the misplaced family might need. Astrid lessened the burden of food, but more was always needed. When he had everything he could afford, he made for the safehouse.

When he arrived, he knocked on the door. He always knocked, even when he knew he was welcome.

A flurry of motion inside set his hackles up, but the family had been through an ordeal. The door flew open, knocking Ekkron back.

"Hey, you'll get your food soon enou—"

Iron hands gripped his arms.

"By order of the Lord, you're under arrest, Guardsman. Your actions against the Lord's kin must stand trial. Resist, and we will not be so gentle."

Briefly, he saw the captain of the guard and Astrid standing inside the doorway, the family he'd fought for bound at their feet. Neither met his gaze, and his world turned to darkness as one of the men at his side pulled a sack over his head, light filtering through in pinpricks.

The clatter of well-maintained armor was the only sound he heard as the group was ushered along. His years of service told him that they were heading to the town square, even if his eyes couldn't confirm it.

All too suddenly, they stopped, and the sack was pulled unceremoniously from his head. The abrupt change in lighting blinded him, but as his eyes adjusted, he saw the unmistakable sight of gallows erected across the square. A large table sat before them, and a group of too-clean men were gathered, each taking a seat in turn.

The family was bound and gagged, standing beside him.

"Guardsman Ekkron," the centermost man began, "You stand accused of crimes against the Lord and his kin! How do you plead?"

Shaking his head at the whims of fate, he thought back to the cold sweat he'd felt meeting the devil only the day before. "Not Guilty, my lords."

Almost as if awaiting his words, the monster itself stepped out from behind the gallows, flanked by his dogs. A blood red bandage ran across its face.

"He lies, honorable lords. My wounds stand as testament to the fact." Ekkron's heart sank as the beast continued, "My men and I were kindly escorting the ungrateful cretins beside him to the safety of your town. We'd even gone so far as to secure them employment on our arrival. The cowardly guard ambushed us, killing one of my men and maiming another. As you can see, he left him so ugly, no woman would ever wish to claim him as her own. That speaks nothing to my own disfigurement."

"Yes, yes, we've heard your account, Lordling. The veracity of your words is not in question, only the guilt of the man before us. Tell us, Guardsman: is there truth to his accusation? Did you ambush this Lord, acting in a manner unbefitting of your station, giving him no recourse to prove his own innocence, leading to the loss of life for his people?"

In that moment, Ekkron couldn't deny how he'd been boxed in. He hung his head as he answered, "Yes, my lords, but—"

"And are these the individuals in question, those you sought to shelter in our town?"

"They are, my lords, but if you would just—"

"The facts are confirmed. It is with the grace of our Lord that we declare the widow Astrid vindicated by virtue of her refusal to shelter fugitives, and her aid in the peaceful apprehension of all parties accused. The guilty parties are sentenced to be hanged until dead, and left out in warning for any who would act against the benevolence of our Lord. This is the justice of our Lord."

There was a stir of commotion from beside the table, as two parties moved to voice an opinion on the verdict. The captain of the guard approached alone, mirrored by the devil. After a hushed conversation, the centermost lord adjusted his proclamation, a faint tinge of displeasure painting his features as he glanced upon the Lordling.

"At the word of our venerable Captain, in honor of a decorated service to our town, Guard Ekkron shall be declared prisoner, sentenced to be banished to the Cursed Tower with the next batch of malcontents. In addition, he shall be made to bear witness to the execution of justice." The lord paused, glancing only briefly at the beast. "Lastly, the eldest daughter of the fugitives shall enter a contract of suffrage under our Lord, to serve until her debt is paid. This is the justice of our Lord."

Ekkron stood as, one by one, the three who were sentenced to death were marched to the gallows, still bound and gagged, and hung for all to see. When he was finally marched away to be imprisoned, he felt a heat from the girl, her eyes bearing a fire so much more terrible than they had the day before.

As the man awaited the appointed hour, when his sentence would finally be carried out, he felt only one thing. No shame for his failures, no misery at his loss, only a burning hatred for this broken world, led by people who failed those in need. The time for his banishment had come, and he, for one, couldn't wait to see what changes that brought.

It was over, quick as anything he'd ever known, and he found himself in a field. A wide, open field. Banishment, it seemed, wouldn't be so bad.

The nameless man took in his surroundings, foregoing the town he saw on the horizon for the wilderness he found himself in. That was home enough for him after months of imprisonment.

The man who led me here is dead, no longer worthy to bear witness. I will forge a new path, an identity worthy of the titles they thrust upon me. Criminal. Outcast. I will become a man who bears these burdens, a man who knows the darker side of honor, remade in the image they gave me.

Ain't it a shame, how the world breaks and shapes you.

I will wander until I have atoned for my sins, until I am worthy again to bear witness.

I will wander until I have found a new name, one I have earned.

Ekkron died that day, finally overcome by the consequences of the storms.