The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 167: A Moment of Peace

Chapter 167: A Moment of Peace

It didn’t take long for me to lower my guard around Captain Bethiv and his soldiers. They were the Last Light Company, famous throughout the northern continent as a ruthless band of mercenaries who rarely failed a mission. At some point, they were permanently contracted by the crown as a special unit in their standing army.

The soldiers sat around their cookfires, sharpening weapons, swapping stories, or talking of home. I sat around their main fire, my knees tucked against my chest, eyes closed to partial slits. The night breeze was cool against my skin, playing with my hair and wafting with the raucous sounds of their camaraderie. Fall was growing late, with winter just around the corner, something far more apparent on the northern continent than the southern. I sighed wistfully, absently stroking my horn. It had nearly been a year since I awoke in a cage, although that time felt infinitely longer than the eighteen years I spent on Earth.

A nearby soldier leaped to his feet and shouted, "What? For real?"

I flinched, my tail tensing, the sudden noise scattered my thoughts. The camp’s noise felt particularly chaotic, leaving me disoriented. Were we under attack? Were the soldiers finally fed up with my presence?

The soldier’s hands balled into fists, but his only companion snorted, rolling his eyes derisively. "Oh, sit down already. Just cause you lost to a gryphon doesn’t mean the rest of us are that weak."

Only when it became clear their agitation wasn’t over me did my heart rate decrease. I sighed, resting my chin against my knees, the tip of my tail flicking against the ground.

"Feeling jittery?"

I glanced up as Captain Bethiv sat down beside me, stroking the stiff bristles of his growing beard.

"I’m just a little on edge," I admitted. Ever since Soltair’s deceptive betrayal, I’d been unable to rest easy among those who showed any degree of kindness. A small thrill of fear tickled my heart as I thought of Elise, and whether I’d be able to meet her gaze. She wasn’t just waiting for her turn, too, right?

"You’re awfully young to be sent to the battlefield," Bethiv mused. His hand explored his bag for a few seconds before finally pulling out a thick cigar. He snapped his fingers, summoning a small jolt of fire magic and taking a long draw before saying, "Then again, you’re a hero. It’s my understanding you lived a life before coming here. That must have been awfully confusing for you, at first."

He seemed absorbed in the bickering of his men, but I felt him watching me intently from the corners of his eyes. After I awoke in the cage, it had taken several months for me to even learn the name of the world, much less what I was to do there. The other heroes were quickly gathered and received thorough explanations and training, while I still lacked much of the common understanding they took for granted.

"Why did you invite me here?" I asked softly, tilting my head to meet his gaze. "You could have just ignored me like everyone else."

"To be honest," he admitted, scratching his cheek, "we were ordered to. But mercenaries have never been that good at following orders, so I told them to eat shit. And then...sorry, I apologize for my language. We rarely mix with such sophisticated folks like yourself."

"There’s no need to concern yourself with me," I replied, shaking my head. "But why take the risk? You don’t know me, and wouldn’t it be fine to just turn away?"

"Mercenaries make their living by the sword, but that doesn’t mean we can throw our integrity to the wind. It would dishonor my nephew if I were to ignore the girl who saved his fiancee."

I raised my head, eyes going wide. "You’re Jarrod’s uncle?"

He grunted, smiling faintly. "Even though he’s the crown prince, he bothered to fall in love with a cursed princess from the southern continent. We all thought he was foolish, but he sent me a letter some time ago explaining what had happened at the university. What was bound to be a youthful mistake now holds the potential to open a new trade route between the continents, something that is guaranteed to transform our kingdom’s economy. Many have begun calling him wise, with a few going so far as to claim he was given a gift of foresight."

"A heavy burden," I murmured. Visions of the future had brought me nothing but heartache, constantly weighing on my soul and depressing me with the horrors I knew were to come.

"Aye," Bethiv nodded. "But that’s a load of shi-hogwash. He’s simply a man who was fortunate enough to encounter a miracle."

"Please, there’s no need to force yourself to change your language. I’ve heard plenty of-Wait, if you’re his uncle, that makes you the king’s brother, right? Is it alright for you to talk with me like this?"

"Of course not! But who the hell cares about what the court thinks? I’ve removed myself from their politics for decades already and they’ve practically disowned my bloodline. My only power comes from the reputation and strength of the Last Light. But I’ve always had a soft spot for the prince, so when he requested I look after you, of course I agreed."

"Oh. Thank you."

"If you need someone to fight with during the battles ahead, you’re more than welcome with us. I noticed the other heroes don’t seem too keen on your company, but I assure you that every one of my men would throw themselves before the claws of a demon before allowing a single hair on your head to be harmed."

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain I was far from worth their lives, but he raised a hand, stalling me. "There’s no need to say anything. The cooks ought to be close to done now, so let’s shelve this and get some grub."

He stood, groaning as he stretched his muscles. I followed him with my eyes, mouth still parted in unspoken protest. Was it really all right for me to stay here?

As the company broke into the meal, many soldiers took the initiative to approach me. They all seemed awkward at first, carefully watching their words and growing flustered whenever they slipped up and used a crude term or slang. It was endearing really, and I soon found myself opening up and actually making conversation. They asked about my travels and the monsters we fought, as well as sharing some of their own battles. They were masterful storytellers and listeners, gasping in apprehension and cheering at all the right moments. But, whenever one started to grow too familiar with me or get close enough to make me nervous, a fellow soldier would step in, slapping them upside the head and demanding they "show respect to the lady!"

Somehow, without realizing it, I’d grown used to the atmosphere of the company, even finding comfort in the brotherly bickering and familiar speech. With my power crippled, I would much rather stay amongst these men and protect their lives than waste away helplessly against the boss.

I was almost reluctant to retire for the night, but as the night drew late and the cookfires were doused, soldiers began to disappear into their tents. Standing before the flap to the humble tent they provided, I glanced around the clearing. The company was set up in a curious pattern, almost circular in design. I looked around for the captain’s tent, which should have been in the middle, only to find it on the exterior closest to the rest of the army.

But that could only mean...

I swung my head around, finding a wall of tents around me. The canvas faces formed a complete encirclement with me at the center, blocking out any view or disturbance from the outside camp. Several soldiers stood as sentries, with half of their number, despite the size of the company, within a few dozen feet of my tent. Even I, who was admittedly ignorant of military procedures, couldn’t misinterpret this gesture.

Dabbing the corner of my eyes with my sleeve, I turned and slipped into the tent. It was small and tattered, with several large hasty patches shoring up the canvas, and carrying faint traces of body odor. I twirled my finger, summoning a magical breeze to freshen the place up a bit, and riffled through my satchel, retrieving a night dress and my bedroll.

Scarcely had I spread out my bedroll than I swooned, the exhaustive march catching up to me. Every soldier in the army was at least level 3, which gave them an endurance at least double that of a normal citizen. Given the nature of our hasty deployment, the commanders set a pace reflecting the strength of their troops. The speed of the march, combined with the lingering pain of the Sunpurge had nearly depleted what little strength I had.

But, as I lay in dread of what the morrow would bring, a gentle, warm sensation wormed its way into my heart. I curled up, my tail flicking just under my chin, and uttered a small prayer of gratitude. While not exactly surrounded by friends, I felt safe and secure, allowing me to close my eyes without worry, Tonight, at the very least, I slept free of the many shadows burdening my soul.

At least, until the screams started.