Darius frowned at Favian. That name, Kriger, was the same one the strange warrior had called him when he first awoke from the Night Hag's grasp.
"Why did you call me that?" Darius asked with furrowed brows.
"That is your name," Favian replied evenly.
"No, it's not. My name is Darius."
"Darius?" Favian repeated, tilting his head as his gaze drifted upward, above Darius' head, as though he saw something there unseen. "Ah… I see."
Darius followed his eyes, looking up, but saw only the night sky. "What are you seeing?" he demanded.
Favian's eyes returned to him. "Your name is Darius," he said. "But when one calls you Kriger, you would do well to answer, for that too is your name."
"But how do you know this?" Darius pressed. "I've been called that name before by someone I did not know."
"As I said," Favian replied, glancing over his shoulder, "you are late." He turned and began to walk away. "Come. There is much you need to understand."
Darius dismounted, holding his horse by the reins as he followed. They left behind the crowded cottages of the town and turned down a quieter path, where the homes grew sparse and the lamps fewer.
"Are you a Truther?" Darius asked as they walked.
Favian cast him a brief look. "Isn't it obvious?"
"The voice in the mind…" Darius ventured. "Do you hear it too?"
"Our guide," Favian said with a nod. "Yes. They speak to all who are chosen. We follow their counsel, and through them, fulfil the purpose set before us."
"This Era of the Profane, what is it?" Darius asked.
Favian's pace slowed. "A few years past, famine swept across the Anasonian Empire," he began. "But it was not born of drought or blight. It was the greed of men that starved the people. The Viceroys — those who rule the cities in the Emperor's stead, took too much. They demanded tribute beyond measure."
"Some kind of dues?" Darius asked.
"Taxes," Favian said bitterly. "They took grain, cattle, gold, silver. Everything that could be taken. The people were left with scraps while their lords feasted through the nights, marrying new wives, and sending mercenaries to seize more land; fertile soil they would never till."
"And the Emperor?" Darius asked. "Does he not know?"
"Oh, he knows," Favian replied, his voice low. "But he pretends not to. The Viceroys command vast armies, loyal only to them, and through their power, they keep the Emperor's throne secure."
"You wouldn't want to offend men with that kind of power," Darius muttered.
"Exactly," Favian replied.
"So where do the Truthers come in?" Darius asked.
Favian's lips curved into a faint smirk. "If there is one thing any Emperor and his Viceroys fear above all else, it is the uprising of their own people. Armies can crush rebellion for a time, yes—but what ruler can rest easy over subjects who wish him dead? A man who has nothing left to lose can be caged only for so long."
Darius kept silent, his eyes fixed on Favian as he spoke.
"When the people began to groan in the marketplaces," Favian went on, "when they spat upon the faces of the tax collectors and whispered of terror and revolt; the Viceroys realised it was time to tighten the leash upon themselves."
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "They lessened the taxes, yes, but the damage was already done. The people's hatred had taken root and would not fade. So the Viceroys contrived another way, a plan to draw the people's anger elsewhere, to make them look upon a different enemy."
"The Truthers?" Darius asked.
"No," Favian replied. "Weeks after the taxes were lessened, two Viceroys—Lord Owen of Orlan and Lord Ganon of Sadnon—journeyed beyond the borders of the Anasonian Empire. Their travels led them to a town called Tormen, a place whispered of even among the bold. There, they met men of strange power, men who could summon the very Devil from the depths of hell."
Darius's brow rose, half in disbelief, half in intrigue.
"These men conjured beings of strange and terrible kind, unleashing them upon the people. And when the death toll rose, the frightened masses fled to their lords for safety," Favian said.
"Truly?" Darius muttered, half in awe.
Favian gave a low laugh. "But in a world where darkness thrives, light must find its place."
They drew near a humble cottage where two children, a boy and a girl, sat by a small fire, laughing at one another's jests.
"The Truthers were sent into this world by the Unknown," Favian continued, his tone deepening, "to hunt these creatures and bring judgement upon those who summoned them."
"Judgement?" Darius echoed quietly. "Does that include the Viceroys?"
Favian arched a brow. "What other reward do men like that deserve?"
Darius exhaled. Not only was he bound to fight monsters beyond reason, but now the lords and their armies as well.
"Have the Truthers tried to tell the people the truth about their lords?" he asked.
"We have," Favian replied. "But few believe us. They cannot imagine their lords foolish enough to unleash such evil that threatens their own peace. And any doubt that lingered was silenced when Lord Vince of Ardet himself was attacked by one of the creatures in the early years."
The two came to a halt before the cottage, and the children sprang to their feet, running towards them.
"Favian, where did you go?" asked the little girl, her voice bright with delight.
"To fetch a friend," Favian replied with a smile, turning his gaze toward Darius.
"Hello, little ones," Darius greeted warmly. The children grinned back.
"What's your name?" the young boy asked.
"Da—" Darius caught himself, cleared his throat, and said, "Kriger."
"Kriger!" the children chorused, turning to one another in excitement.
Just then, a young man stepped out of the cottage, holding the fresh hide of a lamb.
"Favian, you've returned," he said with a broad smile. "I've just finished skinning this lamb for the porridge Naomi is preparing."
"Ah, splendid! I am famished," Favian said cheerfully, then gestured toward Darius. "This is my friend, Kriger. He'll be staying with me for a while."
The man extended a hand. "Ron," he said.
"Good to meet you, Ron," Darius replied, shaking it firmly.
✧══════✧ ༺─༒─༻ ✧══════✧
That evening, they all gathered for supper. Favian introduced Darius properly to Ron's family—his wife, Naomi, and their two children, Zen and Laila.
"They sheltered me when I first found myself in this world," Favian explained, smiling at the family.
"That's kind of them," Darius said. "Especially with the way people seem to feel about the Truthers."
Ron looked up from his bowl, puzzled. "What way?"
Favian chuckled. "Kriger met one of the Valiants, giving a sermon not long ago."
Ron scoffed. "Valiants? They claim to bring the truth about our plight, but they serve the very mages who cursed this land. They are the true blight upon us."
"The Valiants?" Darius asked. "Is that what they call themselves?"
"More like cowards," Ron muttered. "When the people learn the truth of their deceit, they'll be driven out of every village."
✧══════✧ ༺─༒─༻ ✧══════✧
When the meal was done, Favian led Darius to a smaller cottage a few yards away.
"Ron had a spare home when I first came here," Favian said, pushing the door open. "Fortune favoured me. There's a room for you on the left. If you need me, I'll be in the one to the right."
Darius stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and slipped off his armor before falling onto the bed. The window stood open, letting in the cool night breeze.
He stared at the ceiling for a while, his thoughts drifting to home. What must his family think now that he is gone? Or perhaps, he wondered, this was all but a dream, one he had yet to wake from.
Many thoughts stirred through his mind, until at last, sleep took him.
>>Kriger<<
Darius's eyes snapped open. He did not know how long he had slept, but the room had grown bitterly cold. He wished he had closed the windows before drifting off.
Groaning, he dragged himself across the bed until his hand found the wooden shutters. He pushed them closed, sealing out the night wind.
His sleepy gaze swept the dim room in search of a blanket. That was when he heard it—a crash, sharp and sudden, like plates shattering on the floor just beyond his door.
He froze. Perhaps a rat, he told himself. But then came the creak of a door… and footsteps… and the low sound of a man's grunt.
Sleep fled him at once.
Darius leapt from the bed, with a thudding heart. He moved cautiously to the door and eased it, opening a crack to peer through. But no one was there.
He stepped into the main room… and stopped dead.
There, a man lay sprawled upon the floor, cloaked in black, blood pooling beneath him. The glint of a fallen dagger caught the candlelight. The man was already dead.
The outer door stood wide open, the cold rushing in. Darius turned toward Favian's chamber, only to see another body slumped in the doorway, dressed the same, lifeless.
He staggered back. What is happening?
Shouts echoed faintly from outside and panic struck him. Darius bolted for the exit door, to see what was happening… only for a heavy blow to crash against his face, throwing him sideways into the dirt.
Before he could lift his head, a dark figure lunged from the shadows, seizing him by the throat. Strong hands clamped around his neck and drove him backward with brutal force until his body struck a basin of water.
His head was plunged beneath the surface of the basin, and cold water flooded his lungs as he thrashed, striking wildly at his attacker, but the man's grip held fast.
Desperation seized Darius, and without much thought, he drove his knee upward and hard, catching between the man's thigh. His attacker grunted, loosening his hold.
Darius broke free, gasping, dragging himself from the basin and collapsing to the ground. Water streamed from his hair and face as he fought for breath.
He barely noticed the man recovering with even greater rage. From within his cloak, the assailant drew a curved knife and charged.
Darius looked up just as the blade arced toward him…
But, before it could reach his skin, an arrow whistled through the night, striking the man clean through the neck. He dropped at once, the knife clattering beside his lifeless body.
"Get on your feet!"
A commanding voice echoed.
Darius lifted his head toward its source and saw Favian emerging from a distance, bow in hand, another arrow already notched.
"Favian…" Darius rasped, still coughing water from his lungs.
"I said up!" Favian barked, glancing left as more shadows began to move through the fog. "They'll be upon us soon!"
Darius pushed himself up, his body trembling from the cold and the shock. His gaze darted toward Ron's home. "Ron—Naomi—the children… Are they safe?"
Favian's face hardened. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, his tone eased slightly. "They've fled."
Relieved, but still with dread, Darius asked, "Fled? Where—?"
Favian cut him off, seizing his arm. "There's no time, Kriger! Move!"
From beyond the cottage came the rising clatter of boots, many of them, and the murmur of harsh voices. Dark shapes were gathering, cloaked figures moving fast through the mist.
Favian ran toward the stable at the edge of the yard. "Get your horse, Kriger!"
Darius followed with a pounding heart. Inside the stable, their mounts were restless, stamping and snorting as if they too sensed the danger closing in. Darius swung himself onto his horse's back, hands trembling as he seized the reins. Favian leapt onto his own in one fluid motion.
"They'll burn this place before dawn," Favian said, looking back toward the cottages. "We ride east, into the woods. They won't follow us there."
Shouts rang out behind them, with a torch, flared in the distance.
"Go!" Favian cried.
Both men kicked their heels, and the horses surged forward, hooves pounding against the cold ground. The wind tore past Darius' face as they galloped into the darkness, with the sound of pursuit echoing faintly behind them.