CHAPTER 1
Northern Miradosi Tundra
Richard crouched low, his breathing steady as he pulled the
bowstring back to his ear. They hadn’t seen him, or, more miraculously, heard him.
His arrow sliced the wintry air with a hiss and took the
beast down. Its allies reacted with guttural cries and hellish
roars as they searched for their assailant, but they soon joined
their fallen companion in death after two further arrows
pierced them through the eyes in the same fashion as the first.
Richard approached from his concealment and quickly glanced around the village, or rather its remains. The Corrupted had razed it, leaving peasants’ houses torn to shreds and every last inhabitant dead.
He started a fire in the centre of the village and collected the bodies strewn around the area, meticulous as to ensure he didn’t miss any. They fuelled the fire and allowed it to burn
high into the sky, melting the lightly falling snow before it could reach the ground. Such was the nature of his land’s curse – any bodies that weren’t burned only ended up rising
again in a form to be feared. And, in Richard’s profession, a form which was more profitable.
He hacked the head from one of the slain creatures and strapped it to his mare, Rosie. The sun was already falling from behind the clouds, and he was determined to make it to
shelter before nightfall. Luckily, he knew of an inn along the northern road.
The Old Oak Tavern on the horizon was a welcome sight –Richard had been on the road for a long time. He encouraged Rosie into a canter for the little remaining distance before the
both of them could finally rest. Fortunately, the tavern had a stable, so he could leave her somewhere warm as well – or, at the very least, protected.
Dark grey smoke belched from the fractured cobblestone chimney protruding from the slanted roof – the building was ancient. As approached, he hadn’t even gone inside before warmth began to circulate his body. Upon entering, the remaining snow on his hunting jacket melted immediately in the comforting heat of the fire roaring in the hearth. “I’ve come to collect a bounty,” he said, slamming the head
of the slain Corrupted onto the bar.
“You’ll ‘ave to talk to the men at the garrison,” the innkeeper replied, scrubbing a tankard. “They’ve stopped handing out bounties to inns. War means money is tight.”
“Right,” he grumbled. “How much for some horse feed and a place in the stables tonight?”
“Fifteen rions,” the innkeeper replied, reaching for a sack of oats. “And a mug of ale?” “Another two.”
Richard handed over the coin and took the oats from the innkeeper, heading back out to secure Rosie. He found an open space in the stables and left the oats in the feeding pouch, leaving Rosie inside. He then went to rest his own legs
and dampen his senses.
He sat down at one of the empty tables inside the tavern, untying his wild pine-bark hair, allowing it to flow freely around his shoulders. He ordered a meal from the innkeeper
and relaxed in the comfort and safety of a remote tavern in the height of winter.
After a few hours, the door swung open to produce a detachment of Miradosi soldiers. The captain, recognisable by his golden rose badge, marched towards the innkeeper and
handed him a slip of parchment before he and his soldiers settled down at another empty table.
As Richard rose to talk to the captain about the bounty, he was disturbed by the innkeeper.
“You’re Richard Ordowyn, right? You look like him – I’ve heard travellers talk about you,” He handed over the parchment as Richard nodded. “I thought you might find that interesting.”
“Thanks,” replied Richard, mulling over the parchment. A bandit contract, apparently particularly troublesome. As the captain was still present, he decided it would be a good opportunity to scavenge more details before taking on the contract. He walked over to the table where the soldiers sat, eating,
drinking, swearing, and shouting throughout some crude game of cards. “Mind if I interrupt?” Richard asked. “Not at all,” replied the captain. “What is it you want?” “I’m a bounty hunter and I was interested in the contract. Can you give me any specific details about the bandits? What
they’ve been doing, any places they’ve gone to and from a lot?” he questioned.
“They’ve been ransackin’ supply carts wherever they can. You don’t need to go very far north of this here inn before wreckages of their doing start showin’ up. We think they’ve set
themselves up in the forest, I’d say… three miles northwest of here. We can’t use any troops while Sanskari still hack away at our border – we’d ‘appily pay fifty rions if you bring us their
leader’s head. A blonde fellow with a scar running across his right eye.”
“I’ve a counter-proposal,” he stated. “I completed the bounty posted in another inn for the Corrupted traipsing the roads near what’s left of Dyalos. Pay me the reward for that
and I’ll get rid of the bandits for free.”
Not often would Richard take on a contract free of charge
– it was his only source of income. However, when the Sanskari were involved, his morals won out over his need for
money. Even when his menial efforts to assist his country’s
cause felt useless, as news would only reach him later that the
front line continued to move further south.
The captain reached into his satchel and retrieved a jingling pouch of coins. He carefully counted out three hundred
rions and pushed them towards Richard.
“Thanks, lad – at the very least, come by the garrison for
some arrows.”
“No need,” Richard dismissed. “I have plenty.”
Richard returned to the innkeeper and asked for a room,
for which he paid and retired to for the evening – but not before refilling and emptying his tankard.
The following morning, he awoke to the sounds of a scuffle
outside. He picked up his weapons from the bedside table –
an elegant self-made bow, his first choice, with a quiver of sixteen arrows; a steel short sword at his waist; and a relatively
small dagger tucked into a sheath in his jacket, in the event
that he needed a last resort. The scuffle outside grew louder,
spurring Richard to quickly finish pulling on his breeches and
brown leather boots. He cautiously opened the door to his
room as to avoid attracting attention. He couldn’t see much
from his current orientation, so he silently crept from the
room and nocked an arrow, preparing for trouble. As he
rounded the corner, he observed a group of four men surrounding the innkeeper, rusty swords and clubs in hand, demanding he empty his safe. One of them, the one making the
demands, had long, blonde hair and a scar across his right eye.
Convenient, Richard thought.
“I think we’ve been bloody clear about what we want, innkeep. Give us the coin without a fuss, or we burn your tavern
down findin’ it. I know what I would choose if I was in your—”
He was unable to finish the sentence as the first of Richard’s arrows pierced his larynx. The other three bandits were
undeniably shocked by the sudden turn of events as they
didn’t even react before two more had been taken down in a
similar fashion. The last rushed toward Richard as he drew his
sword. The bandit clumsily swung his club in an arc, missing
Richard entirely as Richard’s sword entered his stomach. The
bandit collapsed and Richard retrieved his sword, wiping it
clean on the bandit’s already bloodstained tunic.
“Sorry about the mess,” he told the innkeeper, dragging the
bodies towards the door.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, you just saved my
hide! Please, take this for your travels,” exclaimed the innkeeper, handing Richard a bottle of ale and a sack of oats.
He helped the innkeeper dispose of the bodies, but not before severing the head of the blonde, cauterising the neck and
placing it in his satchel.
In all the commotion he had forgotten about Rosie. He
rushed to the stables to find that luckily, the bandits hadn’t decided to check for any horses they could steal. He saddled her
up, stroking her sepia fur and feeding her from the sack he
had just received. He then led her out of the stable and
mounted her, ready to depart.
It was another cold day, snowflakes drifting through the
sky and the smell of pine smoke from the tavern’s fireplace
still present on Richard’s clothes. Richard decided it wouldn’t
hurt to check the area where the captain detailed, on the small
chance that the bandit whose head lay in his satchel wasn’t the
right bounty.
He set off on the road northwest and after only a mile, he
found evidence that the soldiers weren’t lying. Battered carriages, ransacked wagons and frozen human remains were all
examples of the gruesome sights along the stretch of road towards the border.
The forest of which the captain had spoken began to materialise on his right, so he turned into it and searched for a
clearing. A fire appeared to be burning in the distance, a possible indicator that there were more bandits than the ones he
had eliminated in the tavern. He dismounted his horse and
tied her to a tree some distance away from the camp before
sneaking closer to inspect. Upon closer investigation, it turned
out he wasn’t dealing with bandits at all. In the clearing,
around a roaring bonfire, sat three lightly dressed Sanskari
soldiers, roasting a boar on a spit. Only moments before letting the arrow fly, he decided not to make a rash decision and
instead to observe the soldiers for a time. It was peculiar, to
say the least, a small detachment of Sanskari soldiers taking
residence in a deserted bandit camp. Perhaps they were deserters.
“How long do you think it will be until we reach Myana?”
asked one of the soldiers to his comrades.
“Given the current rate that we’re ploughin’ through at, no
more than two months would be my guess. These useless Miradosi would need a miracle to prevent it. At least when we’re
done capturin’ this wasteland, the emperor can shift his focus
to the North.”
“We don’t even need to do any fightin’, ‘cause the bandits
are doing a good enough job. I knew the Miradosi were uncivilised, but I didn’t know we could break ‘em down just by
payin’ off a few cutpurses!”
The three erupted into laughter – cut short by the first of
Richard’s arrows. The second and third followed shortly after.
He sauntered into the abandoned camp and retrieved a
carving knife from what looked like the sergeant and used it
to shave off a piece of the roast boar. He sat down on one of
the logs around the fire, allowing it to extract the cold from
his veins. Upon finishing his unexpected breakfast, he sliced
off a few more pieces to take for later and stored them in Rosie’s saddlebags, untying her and bringing her closer to the
camp. It was a strange sight, one that didn’t entirely make
sense – he had killed four bandits in the tavern, yet there were
eight beds. He assumed the Sanskari soldiers had been staying
in the camp, probably to keep an eye on the bandits. That accounted for seven of the beds, but the eighth was still a mystery – until he felt a gloved hand tap his shoulder.
In a lightning-fast motion, he stepped forward, simultaneously rotating to face the mysterious figure and drawing an
arrow. Before him stood a hooded woman, dressed in an ashgrey robe to match her hood, which concealed her face.
“Who are you?” Richard asked.
“Just a lonely traveller,” the woman calmly replied, with the
hint of a northern accent.
“In the middle of a bandit camp?”
“That looks to be the case. Would you please lower that or
at the very least point it somewhere else?”
Richard reluctantly lowered the bow, keeping the arrow
nocked. The woman sauntered over to one of the logs where
the boar roasted, carving a piece off for herself.
Richard followed but remained standing. “I’ll ask again.
Who are you?”
The woman removed her hood, revealing a jet-black head
of hair, tied into a braid which reached her upper back. Her
most striking feature was her piercing emerald eyes.
“Jade Synderon,” she told him. “And you?”
“Richard Ordowyn. Why are you here?”
She chuckled. “My, full of questions, aren’t we?” She beckoned Richard to join her in sitting. He slowly took a seat on
the log opposite her, arrow still nocked.
“I can see you don’t easily trust. My dear, had I been any
threat to you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right
now.”
Richard was no fool and wouldn’t be misled by idle threats.
The least he allowed himself was to relax his muscles.
“So this is how we’re going to go about it. Fine. As you can
see, I’m apparently the last remaining survivor of this camp.
But I would hope you’ve deduced that I’m neither a bandit
nor a Sanskari soldier.”
“What are you then?” Richard asked, his patience running
thin.
“I was working with the Sanskari, who were in turn working
with the bandits. Before you loose that arrow as rashly as you
did to those three soldiers, allow me to ease your mind. Officially, I’m a Sanskari advisor, stationed at the garrison in
Limara. They sent me on a supervision mission to ensure
those soldiers you left over there don’t get overexcited. However, I can trust you’re true to the Miradosi cause, so I’ll confide in you my true mission. I seek to aid in dismantling the
foundations of the Empire.”
“You’re a spy?”
“One might put it that way, although I don’t work for any
Miradosi officials. It’s more ‘for the greater good’ kind of
work. Though who defines good and bad? I’m sure those soldiers you thoughtlessly slaughtered would have viewed you as
the bad, believing in their own cause. They could have had
children and wives who now will never see them again. But
that’s okay, because Richard Ordowyn, the lone bounty
hunter, felt like he was doing the right thing.”
Richard tensed his muscles again.
“Now, before you make any more thoughtless decisions, let
me just point out that I’m still on your side. Just perhaps not
as sincerely. I regard issues in life from a neutral, objective
viewpoint, always have done. Knowing that every decision,
every action has more than one consequence allows one to
hold an enlightened view of the world’s issues.”
“Interesting lecture. You still fail to explain what you hoped
to achieve by babysitting those three.”
“It was a very educational experience. I learned of new colloquialisms used by the soldiers, I learned of their attitudes towards your people, I learned of their motives and their strategies in taking your country. Altogether it will allow me to accomplish far more in the future when I report back to the officer in Limara.
“It doesn’t take much observation to work out the fragility
of the Empire. It rules with a fist of glass, not of steel. All it
takes is enough pressure in the right areas and it would shatter. Corruption runs deep, from the top of the hierarchy all
the way down to the commanders in charge of individual garrisons. It’s against the Sanskari codex to associate with bandits
and is downright forbidden to work alongside them. But men
are far from perfect, with greed being one of the most common traits you’ll find in any of the Sanskari superiors. Those
three paid off those bandits to cause havoc, yes, but they, in
turn, received a share of the loot they would bring back. Loot
which they kept to themselves, to put money in their own
coin purse.
“I seek to learn how to utilise this corruption, as knowledge
is often more powerful than a battalion of soldiers. If one
learns where to destabilise the foundation, the whole system
swiftly collapses. Do we see eye to eye now?”
Richard took a few moments to process the information.
He was not well versed in politics, always leading a simple,
routine life.
“What would your next move be?” Richard asked. “Nothing
we do has slowed them. They’ll reach Myana come summer.”
“It’s all about causing domestic conflict. The Empire is sovereignly controlled by the emperor, sure, but individual countries are still under the control of appointed princes, dukes,
barons. Princes, dukes, barons all liable to corruption. I have
reliable sources that express severe concerns about major corruption involving the ministers of Jakaris, Rendon, Handor
and Floria. All northern Sanskari states, ones that have been
under their control for the longest, some fifty years. Vast sums
of money have mysteriously disappeared from the court
treasuries, notorious people in power have gone missing. It
wouldn’t take much to turn these ministers against the Empire
they serve. Form an opposition force too large to quietly eliminate; enforce passive resistance among the citizens; collectively refuse to pay taxes. The citizens are more than capable
of overthrowing their ministers, yet they are restricted by
fear. We need someone who isn’t to light the first flame.
Someone like you would do splendidly.”
Richard didn’t know what to think about that. “I wouldn’t
know what to do. I’ve never known anything but bounty hunting.”
“Yet you’ve known suffering and oppression. You’re a
skilled fighter and seemingly rather intelligent – there aren’t
many more traits you would need. In fact, we can experience
what it would be like together. Come with me to report to the
Sanskari garrison in Limara.”
It was an abrupt offer, and he was nearly as abrupt in turning her down. However, after a moment of pondering the
concept, he reconsidered.
“How far away is Limara?”
“In terms of war, not excessively far – a couple days’ journey north. The front line is currently stagnant thanks to last
week’s battle, both sides are licking their wounds and calling
for reinforcements. They would welcome new informants
with open arms.”
“And what’s stopping them from putting a bolt between my
eyes?”
An endearing smile appeared on her face. “You’d be accompanied by me. They know to cross me is to cross their superiors in Virilia, and they’d rather not do that. Otherwise,
they find a noose around their neck.”
“Alright, I’ll go with you. Don’t expect it to become permanent. We’d best burn the soldiers’ bodies first.”
Richard wandered into the forest to gather more firewood.
He was unable to shake the feeling that there was something
suspicious about her but couldn’t tell if that was simply his observational mistake or if she was exceptionally stealthy, which
would be odd for an advisor. He also noted her immaculate
attention to detail.
He returned to camp with arms full of deadwood. It took a
while to get the fire burning at a reasonable level but after an
hour of trying and failing, it was finally ready to burn the bodies.
Magic was outlawed across Valoria, but dark magic was woven through the soil. None in the modern world knew its
origin, but it was there, cursing the land in which crops are
sown and bodies would be buried. This curse was what produced the Corrupted and what meant Richard’s profession
was exceptionally profitable. It was also what forced armies to
stop their progress post-battle to clean up both their and their
enemy’s mess – otherwise, they would be slaughtered far
more efficiently than any opposing army could manage.
To the average person, they were notoriously difficult to
kill: physically resilient and unable to feel pain. Despite this,
Richard found a knack for it, drawing upon his reputable skill
with a bow and arrow. The Corrupted boasted adept resistance to damage and would not be halted by non-debilitating wounds. His arrows couldn’t inflict an injury serious
enough to prevent a Corrupted from moving, but he could
strike them with dazzling accuracy. He discovered that the
Corrupted have a fatal weak spot – their brain. An arrow
piercing through their eye is more than enough to completely
disable them.
“Shall we go now?” Jade asked, when Richard was content
that the bodies would be destroyed. He also added the bandit
leader’s head from his satchel to the flames.
I hope they work it out.
“Let’s go,” he replied.
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