When word got back that the fort had defended off the attack, I was both happy and stunned at the same time. I was happy that we had won. Stunned for the fact that we both actually succeeded in defending the fort, as well as triumphing over Highland.

And yet, I didn't get any action.

That, in itself, wasn't fair. I was waiting for the moment so badly, and yet, it never came. I had taken the time to train all these soldiers, meet with each one individually, being archer captain, and taken a lot of responsibility (as well as bullshit) as being the leader of this fort.

I had to do all the dirty work no one wanted to deal with. Get the finances straight, make sure the generals were following training orders, work out a strategy with Apple, making sure the horses were fed, the soldiers clothed and armed. No one else wanted to do it. So, just shove it off on Flik. He'll take care of everything, just like he always does.

Fuck, I wanted to be down stairs, getting shitfaced like all the other soldiers and Viktor. I had a whole lot more problems than your average run of the mill merc had to deal with. No, instead I had to all the dirty work that no one wanted to deal with in this piece-of-shit fort.

I really shouldn't call it a piece-of-shit, but dammit. It's overcrowded, run down, and a whole bunch of other descriptives I'd rather not write down. It certainly wasn't what Viktor and I had planned. We expected it to be fun, instead it became a chore, and boring as hell.

What the hell am I saying? Viktor was the one being lazy. "You sort it out and deal with it and you tell me what do to, like always." Maybe I'm sick and tired of telling you what to do. I'm burned out, frustrated as all hell, and sore. How about you taking some damn responsibility for a change?

Of course, you always have to put up a front for the soldiers. Your enemies can't see you weak, otherwise they'll eat you alive. Your friends can't see you weak either, or they'll start doubting you. And with someone with a reputation like "Blue Lightning Flik", I couldn't let them down.

And I didn't get any action. Not even one arrow shot.

Putting the bow away, I ordered my men. "We're moving forward."

"But the battle's over..."

"Come." I ignored the jest."

Krugan sighed as he led his troops back to the Highland Camp. Just as planned, Krugan and his men retreated early as the mercenaries won the battle.

“How many men did we lose out there?” he inquired to Roland.

“About ¼ of our company Lord Krugan.” replied Roland.

“Report to Lord Ruka with our results.” Krugan ordered.

Roland dismounted his horse and went to find Lord Ruka. Meanwhile, Krugan entered his tent and sat down. He dismantled his scabbard, which contained Radiant, and laid it across the cot. Krugan buried his head in his hands and sighed aloud.

“This war is just beginning, and I already feel exhausted. I hope the rest of this conquest goes quickly.” he thought.

Interrupting his thoughts, Roland returned with an uneasy look on his face.

“Lord Krugan, Lord Ruka has ordered us to return to the battlefield immediately!” he exclaimed.

Krugan’s head shot up and stared at the panicked Roland.

“We’re to return?”

“Yes. It seems that the Mercenary archers have appeared and Lord Ruka wants us to keep them at bay.” Roland replied.

Krugan grunted. “Rally the remainder of the troops, and I’ll be out in a moment.”

Roland saluted Krugan, and left the tent.

Warrior's Village has millennia of history. While there was no evidence of it, old wives tales believed that the Village nomads (timelines ago) were savage beasts. Their first instinct was "kill" if there ever was any threat whatsoever to the well being of the nomad. One can't help but imagine the image of a knuckle-dragging human bashing a rock over another's head, friend or foe, family or enemy.

The darker side of our history also depicts of how we would eat the flesh of our most vicious enemies in a victory banquet. Centuries ago, after the village had been established for quite sometime, Warrior's Village had several neighboring tribes. If there ever was a battle with the neighboring tribe, and we were victorious, the body parts of the king/general/whomever was in charge would be served at a glorious feast. With body parts for meat, and blood for wine; it was truly a festival of the gods.

That's not the best part. The best part of our history only happened decades ago. A rival village, whose name I don't even remember, got in a skirmish with our village. The skirmish escalated. There was an all out war, with hundreds of lives unnecessarily lost. Warrior's Village was proclaimed the victor, and burned the rival village to the ground. There we no survivors from the fiasco. And any bodies found; men, women, children, animals; were instantly diced up and thrown into Lake Toran.

What was the skirmish about? A sheep had wandered over from the rival village to Warrior's Village.

When you think about it, it's no wonder that Warrior's Village is still nothing but a village.

I saw them come over a hill. My instinct now tells me that an ambush would have been the best attack. They clearly didn't see our men, so it wouldn't have taken much to go and try to find some place to hide.

"There they are, men! Fire!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

Krugan led his troops onto the battlefield that was chaos itself. Although their was much room to maneuver because of the small amount of soldiers, both armies were fighting tooth and nail. Deceased bodies littered the battlefield.

"And this was supposed to be an small battle." Krugan thought.

As the Highland company was led to their enemies location, Krugan saw the first line of mercenary archers appear in the distance.

Krugan stopped his company, but it was too late. A volley of arrows were sailing towards his battalion. Although most of the arrows missed, Krugan could see that the mercenaries were beginning to fire again.

"Get ready to return fire troops." Krugan announced.

I seriously had no idea what the hell went wrong.

It was hideous. My men falling right and left. As if nothing I had said got through to them. The enemy stood over the hill, the arrows not connecting.

I began to twitch.

Frustration.

Anger.

Exhaustion.

Pain.

No.

I yanked out Odessa+ from its sheath, dropped down from my horse, and charged towards the enemy. Everything began to get blurry, but that didn’t stop me. I was so fed up with everything, I seriously didn’t have any regard what happened next.

My main goal now was to get to the other side. And kill whoever was there waiting for me.

Without warning, the blurriness started to go away. As everything became clearer, my senses started to sharpen. My vision, my hearing, everything became distinct.

I held up my sword, and I rushed at the closest enemy. I knocked him off his horse, and hacked off half his neck. He fell to the ground, shaking; his eyes rolling in the back of his head.

”Enemy!” Someone shouted.

I was undaunted. I whirled around, my sword high up in the air. I successfully managed to slice off a good chunk of his face. He too fell too the ground.

The men weren’t quite sure what to do with themselves. I was successfully massacring their brigade all by myself. Some had gotten off of their horses, some stood on, and some ran away. But it was clear though, no one knew quite what to do with me.

I had gone berserk.

Soon, the brigade became very small. Dead bodies and horses were everywhere, as well as soldiers screaming. It was a mess to say the least.

I was soaked in blood. The red blood created a weird purple with my outfit. Odessa+ was absolutely drenched. My face victoriously smeared with the sticky maroon liquid.

I was breathing heavily, but I remained undaunted. I noticed a lone, gray-haired man, standing in the center of all of this, on a horse, holding a flag. I proceeded to march over to him.

He turned to me and unsheathed his sword. With one swing of my sword, I knocked him off the horse. As he scrambled to get up, I raised my blood-stained sword, ready to hack off his head.

He didn’t flinch, or cower, or anything. Just ready to accept the hand fate had given him. That a single man had ruined his organized unit.

I was about to strike down. However, something inside me said not to. I sighed and lowered the sword. “I have better things to do with my time”. I muttered.

I’m now heading back to the fort. God help anyone who crosses my path.