Chapter 2: Dustu

The last of the crimson fires rained down upon the former battlefield. As the arrows pierced the bodies of the fallen soldiers, a ripple of yelps echoed throughout the grasslands. The victors of the skirmish begun to ride towards the desolate scape, finishing off any survivors they may have found.

One such man was a mere squire in the vanguard, Dustu Colt. The knight he had served under for the last year, Emma Oslyn, was a top lieutenant in the militia they fought in. Dustu had heard Emma be described by others as exceptionally gifted in the ways of swordcraft, rivalling that of the legendary hero Gar Sakev. It was a shame to find out, then, that the two had never interacted once in their lives. Whereas Gar travels with his guild around cities on the mainland, Emma remains with her militia in the wilds, on the frontier of society. Dustu admired that quality of Emma, her unwavering contentedness for the cause they have all devoted their lives to.

Emma came to a stop. Dustu quickly followed suit.

The two climbed off their horses and approached a fallen group of soldiers. The fallen's armor was made of a leather dyed black, save for their fallen captain who donned plated armor. Aside the group, a flag remained standing. A cracked moon placed between the earth and the sun.

"A solar eclipse," Emma said. "I can think of nothing better suited for the servants of darkness."

"When did they begin donning their own flag?" Dustu asked.

"This is the first I've seen anything like it. A sign their numbers are growing."

"And ours?"

Emma sighed, still examining the sigil of the servants.

"Twenty were lost in this battle. Twenty avoidable deaths had we waited for our supplies to arrive."

"The Oracle said if we had stalled any longer, the servants of darkness would have wiped us all out. He says there would have been no survivors."

Emma looked back to Dustu.

"Sometimes," she started, carefully choosing his words, "Sometimes the Oracle knows less than he thinks."

Dustu raised his eyes in surprise, "The Oracle knows everything, does he not? He possesses infinite knowledge of all things. Forgive me, my lady, but saying the Oracle lacks knowledge feels simply wrong."

Emma squatted down, picking up a sword from a fallen servant.

"Do not confuse knowledge with wisdom, my apprentice. One could possess as much knowledge as the gods themselves, but it is all meaningless if they lack the wisdom to apply that knowledge."

"So it is wisdom you believe the Oracle lacks," Dustu pressed.

"My lord has told me many stories of the Oracle, before he even proclaimed himself such, and I can say with certainty that wisdom is a key trait that he is without."

Dustu looked to the ground for a moment, unsure of what to say next.

"Don't let his most devoted hear you say that," he muttered.

Emma sighed, placing a hand on Dustu's shoulder as reassurance. The two nodded to each other and continued their trek through the battlefield on horseback. This had been the third skirmish in the span of a year between their militia and the servants of darkness, neither side's numbers too vast for the other. In every battle, there were never more than one hundred or so people fighting at a time. Although their numbers are not expansive on either side, it was imperative to the militia that they do not allow the servants to gain any more territory. Such was the task given to them by the Oracle.

The two came up on a group of militiamen - the surveyors. They must have finished their assessment of the battlefield, Dustu deduced. Emma and Dustu remained on their horses as they approached the surveyors, the foreman hailing them.

"Lady Emma," the foreman greeted.

"Harrison," she responded.

"Seventy-four servants of darkness are counted amongst the dead. Twenty-three of ours fell or are unaccounted for."

Emma nodded, "Excellent. I'll deliver the report to the commander."

"Oh, you needn't worry yourself, lieutenant. We've sent rider already. There is another matter, however..." Harrison's voice trailed off in uncertainty.

Emma and Dustu cocked a curious brow, "What have you found?" she asked.

"I've been with the militia for months now, and every skirmish we've been in had no survivors on their side. This time, though, well…" Harrison motioned over his shoulder to a fallen servant, seemingly unconscious as he lied on the ground, tattered and beaten.

"This one's still alive," Harrison said.

Emma seemed impressed. In truth, she and Dustu had seen their fair share of survivors after every battle, but the commander's orders were to take no prisoners. After a battle had concluded, archers rained arrows on the corpses to deal with any living servants left over, and the militiamen ran in afterwards to finish off anybody else with their swords. Such was their custom, such was the way they were commanded to proceed.

"I'll handle it, my lady," Dustu hopped down from his horse, unsheathing his sword.

"No," Dustu heard. He turned back to look at Emma, perplexed. This was the way they have always done things. What was going on in that head of hers?

"No?"

Emma was visibly thinking, her mind reeling, her jade green eyes lost in thought. In all the time they had been traveling and battling together, Dustu had never seen her go against the commander's wishes. Is she truly going to spare this man? Dustu's mind raced at the possibilities of punishment from the commander, or even worse, from the oracle. Finally, Emma lifted her head, her butterscotch hair flowing down.

She got off her horse and slowly approached the fallen servant. She squatted down to him, feeling for a pulse with her hand. After a moment, she sighed a breath of relief.

"We'll be taking this one with us back to camp. Dustu, grab the rope and tie him to Victa."

Dustu had a million things he wanted to say, all of them in protest, his own hazel eyes now laced with fear. Fear of the consequences of this insubordination. Just what exactly was she thinking?

Emma glared at Dustu as he hesitated.

"The rope, Dustu. Now."

Dustu grimaced, holding his tongue as he sheathed his sword before walking to Emma's horse. From the courser's bag he retrieved a hefty coil of rope, just a few meters in length. As he uncoiled the rope, Emma began to pick up the unconscious servant, carrying him to Victa, slinging him over the horse's saddle.

If the foreman were any newer to the militia, he might have commented on Emma's sheer strength despite her slender frame. However, he had seen the scolding and demoralizing humiliation other men received from the lieutenant for making such comments. Emma was a fighter, through and through, yet on the less civilized frontier, men think themselves better than any woman. These dated precognitions have been the bane of many soldiers in the field of battle, and even more in the militia's camp, where such remarks are met with a test of strength, which Emma has yet to lose. All the while, those who make such remarks are actively discouraged and disgraced by their peers. In a militia this small, whose purpose is so grand, there can be no room for prejudice.

Emma and Dustu tied the servant's wrists together, then his knees. They would be traveling for some time to return to camp, and the last thing they needed was the man waking up and trying to escape. The two hopped back onto their horses once the servant was sat atop Victa and prepared to ride back to camp.

"Before you go, lieutenant, shall we proceed with burning the bodies of the fallen?"

Emma nodded to the foreman. "Proceed with burning the servants of darkness. See to it our fighters get the burial they deserve."

"Such is the way of the Oracle," the foreman replied.

"Such is the way of the Oracle," Emma parroted.

The two took their leave, beginning their ride east to the main camp they had established some months ago. Constantly sleeping in the forest with no protection led to a worsened morale, and after a near-defeat on the Lost Coast, the militia's commander caved to pressure and set work to establish a base of operations. Dustu estimated an arrival at the camp by nightfall. Once the two were far enough away from the former field of battle, Dustu rode closer to Emma to speak.

"You know the commander won't stand for this. His orders are strict; leave no survivors."

Emma rolled her eyes.

"If the commander has a problem with this, he can take it up with our lord, my loyal apprentice," she emphasized "loyal" as her temper began to rise.

Dustu did not let up, "But, Emma," he stammered, "this is insubordination, is it not? Think about what would happen to us! The last time somebody was punished by the commander they were sacrificed to the gods!"

Emma stopped her horse in its tracks.

"We will be fine, Dustu," she forced a reassuring smile to him, "we are just going to ask this one here a few questions and we'll let the commander do whatever he wants with him afterwards."

Dustu calmed down at her smile, "You're right, you're right," he repeated himself. "But why do you want to question this one so terribly?"

Emma continued riding ahead, allowing Dustu time to keep up. As they rode through the paved path in the woods, Emma allowed herself time to process her thoughts. After some time of silence, she found her words.

"Every battle we've fought, we've done so on their terms. It's the same song and dance every few months. We get word the servants of darkness have a sect, doing something nefarious, and are marching on our pure lands. We get sent out to their location to stop their advances. We lose good soldiers and keep our land in the end. It's all the same. We have no intelligence to act on, and I know that one day the servants will march with something we may not have the knowledge to defend against. If we never take the fight to them, we're just waiting to die."

Dustu was speechless. She had a point, it's almost as if those sent to Camp Lunar are sent to their deaths. What truly was their purpose out in the frontier?

"Besides," Emma continued, "my lord did not send me out here to march to my death. I want to defeat the servants in this region, so that way I might return to him and help with his own goals."

"And what goals are those?"

Emma paused, a look of embarrassment stained on her face, "He… hasn't actually told me. But I know once I return to him, he will allow me to aid him."

Dustu cocked a brow.

"He must be quite the lord to make the fearsome Emma Oslyn follow him blindly."

"It's not like that," Emma chuckled, "I owe a debt to him. A debt I intend to repay tenfold."

Dustu grew more curious, pressing further, "What did he do for you?"

She shook her head, "I enjoy your company, my apprentice, but some things are meant to be kept secret. Perhaps one day you will know the story, but I do not think today is that day."

Dustu sighed, resigning himself to her stance.

"Fine, fine, but still, I hope to meet this esteemed lord. Preferably before we meet our inevitable fate on the field of battle."

Emma looked to Dustu and smiled, "I'm certain one day you will."

The two's trek eventually came to an end, a clearing in the woods. In the clearing was a series of wooden walls, twenty feet high laced with spikes and torches atop. Where the walls met formed a gate, where two men stood atop the battlements armed with muskets. Draping down opposite sides of the gate were the banners of their militia, the golden shield illuminated by the sun, its protector. From the battlements, one of the men shouted out to the arrivals.

"Halt! That's far enough, you two. State your business."

Although the night sky masked the annoyance on Emma's face, the tone in her voice did not even attempt to feign kindness.

"I did not fight the darkness on the field of battle just to be denied entry into my own home by a guardsman so green you'd think him nauseous. Open the gate for your lieutenant this instant."

The guard calling out to the two immediately tensed up, realizing the mistake he had made. He stumbled to find his words, making half-sounds in what could only be assumed an apology. After he had embarrassed himself for a few moments, his accomplice placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Just open the gate, brother."

The red-faced guard meekly nodded before giving the signal for the gatekeeps below him to open their doors. Emma and Dustu waited as the gates opened themselves, revealing Camp Lunar in its fullness. Seven acres in size, the camp housed all members of the militia. Every fighter was assigned to a regiment, which had its own subdivisions of squadrons. Each squadron had no more than eight people, which was the perfect amount, the commander found, to live together in houses. Due to an overabundance of wood from the trees that were removed to create the clearing, the builders were swift in their creation of homesteads in this large area of land. Around five hundred people resided within Camp Lunar, with all five hundred of those people having a place to call home.

As the two entered the camp, Dustu silently thanked god for allowing them the cover of night to sneak their captive in. The gate for Camp Lunar could not be opened and closed with the simple pull of a lever, but instead must be held by the gatekeeps on each side of the gate by a pulley system. Due to the battlements laid atop the gate and along the walls, a strong inertia prevents the gate from remaining open without being held by two people. Thus, the gatekeeps that guard the entrance from the ground must be operating the pulley system rather than stand at the gate itself, relying on the watchmen atop the gate to determine who enters and who does not.

Emma and Dustu carried their undetected cargo all the way to their homestead in the middle of the camp. Due to Emma's status as a lieutenant, she was not required to be a part of a squadron, meaning she and Dustu lived alone together. They brought their horses around the back of the house, completely covered by both darkness and structures alike, as Emma picked up the fallen servant and brought him inside. Dustu retrieved their belongings, setting them on their back porch, before tying the horses carefully to their hitch.

He entered through the back door before taking the atmosphere in. Being only twenty-four years of age, this was the closest thing Dustu ever had to a home in his adult life, and although over half the rooms in the two-floor homestead were completely empty, he felt safe when within the walls of it. Dustu looked around for any sign of where Emma took their captive, but to no avail. As is usual, she leaves no trace behind her, he thought.

"Are you up or down?" He yelled out.

Emma peaked her head around the corner to the basement.

"I can't take my eyes off you for even ten seconds before you get lost, huh?" she smirked.

"It can't be helped. Following you is like following a puppy, running off the moment something catches your eye," Dustu shrugged back.

Emma crossed her arms and frowned at her companion, clearly unamused.

"How's our friend downstairs?" Dustu asked.

"Why don't you come find out, I was just about to wake him."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Why not? Don't tell me you're scared," she teased.

"The commander will be expecting a report. Would it not be wiser to see him before questioning the servant?"

Emma shrugged, "He can wait. I'm eager to see our company has to say."

"He can wait?" He asked, "Seriously, what has gotten into you recently?"

"We," Emma took a step towards Dustu, "have just won yet another battle against the servants of darkness. You and I alone took down seventeen of the heretics. We are tired," her voice dropped to a more serious tone as she looked into his eyes. "And if Commander Uldin has a problem with this, he can come here himself and let his feelings be known."

Dustu matched her gaze. Nodding slowly along, "Let's go wake the servant."

The two walked down the steps to the basement, locking the door behind them. The basement served as the training room for Emma and Dustu, where they were able to practice swordcraft and trickery without the watchful eyes of their fellow militiamen. Dustu noticed that to keep the servant imprisoned, Emma made use of their captivity-escaping training, marked by the unconscious man locked in chains, strapped to the wall.

"So," Dustu said, "How do we plan on waking him up? He's been out for, what, twelve hours now?"

"Simple," Emma smiled, reaching into her satchel, withdrawing an herb of some sort. The green herb looked almost like a miniature tree branch, but much darker in color, complexion closer to that of the paint coloring. "This is wakeweed. Have you heard of it?"

Dustu's eyes lit up in realization. Where did she even get that? He nodded, eyes narrowing. "I do. Anyone who consumes it is forced into complete focus, and is cursed to stay awake for at least two days. How did you come into possession of such a rare herb?"

"Well," Emma smiled, "Normally wakeweed can only be found in the forests outside Prietrest, on the mainland. However, while we were cleaning up the battlefield, I managed to find a satchel on one of the servants. This, among other things, just so happened to be in it."

"'Among other things'? You're not going to keep me on the edge of my seat, are you?"

"Various herbs and medicines. Nothing as useful as this, though," she looked in awe at the wakeweed. "Really, I might start my own garden of this. Who knows how useful this could be for our fighters?"

"I wouldn't get too excited. Your body needs sleep to function. Normally you'd sleep for about six hours after one day of being awake. Once that wears off, you'll be asleep for at least a whole day. Worse, if you keep taking it, your entire body could just cease to work."

"Well, it's a good thing I won't be the one taking it this time," she stated matter-of-factly.

"And the world breathed a sigh of relief," Dustu sarcastically replied.

"Shut up. Now, let's see if the stories hold true…" Emma approached the unconscious servant, forcefully feeding the herb to him. Once the entire herb was forced down his mouth, she took a few steps back in waiting.

As if awoken from a nightmare, the servant startled awake with a gasp. Breathing heavy, sweat beginning to form on his brow, he urgently looked around the room, straining against his chains. As his eyes formed onto the pair in front of him, he gasped out, "Water, please."

Dustu looked to Emma, who nodded affirmatively. Dustu quickly rushed out of the room, coming back only a few moments later with a cup of water. As he approached the restrained man, he took note of his distinct features. Long, untended brown hair, a slim figure, and calloused hands that tried so desperately to reach for his cup of grace. Dustu noted, however, the calluses were only on his fingertips, whereas his hands themselves were neatly tended to.

Dustu fed the water to the man, who drank so eagerly one would think he had spent the last month in a desert. As the cup was emptied into his desperate throat, he let out a sigh of relief.

"Much better," he eloquently said as Dustu set the cup on a nearby table. Dustu noted that for someone who had just fought in a battle and was unconscious for so long, the man was quite calm now that his thirst had been quenched. The captive looked around the room, moving forward slightly to test the restraints' strength. After realizing there was no means of immediate escape, he sighed and aimed his head towards the ceiling.

"So, where am I this time?"

Emma and Dustu looked confusingly at one another. Had he done this before? If so, how many times? Emma quickly regained her composure, clearing her throat, before approaching the man.

"You're in Camp Lunar. My name is Emma Oslyn. This here's my squire, Dustu Colt."

Dustu gave a half-hearted acknowledgement towards the captive, cautiously eyeing him.

"Camp… Lunar?" the man asked curiously, "I've never heard of it. Is it near Khorvane?"

"Somewhat," she replied, "About a hundred miles north of it."

He sighed disappointingly, "A hundred miles," he repeated. "Alright. If you arrange for my passage back to Khorvane, I'll do whatever it is you need me to do for a three-day period. After what I've been through, I could use the break."

The two performed a double-take. What was happening? Why was this man being so nonchalant about this entire experience?

Dustu spoke up, "Do you… Do you understand what's happening?"

It was the man's turn to look confused as realization slowly started to set in.

"I sense I may not be where I think I am. Are you both not fans?"

"Fans?!" The two were taken aback.

"Oh…" he trailed off, "This… is no longer a safe place."

"Enough," Emma asserted, "You fought with the servants of darkness this morning, did you not? Tell us all you know."

"Servants of Darkness?" the captive asked, "You mean Pandora's Few? Closer to Pandora's Few Hundred, if you ask me. What a ridiculous group of zealots," he scoffed.

Dustu looked to Emma, whose eyes had begun to widen, and for good reason. In just a few words, the two had already learned more about their enemies than they had in the last year.

"Wait…" the man said, "If you're here asking about Pandora's Few, that must mean you're…"

"Indeed," Emma affirmed, "We are with the servants of the sun."

The captive's eyes widened in horror as he strained against his chains.

"Help! Help me! Someone help!" He shouted as loud as he could. Dustu quickly ran up to him, covering his mouth in an effort to suppress their captive. As he did so, Emma rolled her eyes.

"If we wanted to kill you, we would have done so already. In fact, we went through a lot of trouble to keep you alive. So just shut up, will you? I have more questions to ask."

The captive looked to her, then back at Dustu, taking a moment to calm himself down. Once the yelling had stopped, Emma nodded to Dustu, who removed his hand from their captive.

"For starters, you desperately need to wash your hands. I can feel your gunk all over my face now, it's disgusting. Second, I have heard terrible stories about your people, and I do not wish to be burnt alive as a sacrifice to the god you so faithfully devote your lives to."

"So you choose to fight for our enemies, those who would bring chaos to this world?"

"Fight?" the man asked, "I traveled with Pandora's Few to study them, so that I may write an epic tale of the adventures we embarked on. I don't know anything about chaos, however, a lot of what they did consisted of praying and training in swordcraft."

"Wait," Dustu stopped the captive from continuing, "Writing a tale? Fans? Just who are you?"

"You really don't know?" he asked, almost offended. "I am Amos Song, the most revered bard in the chulux region! Truly, if I wasn't scared for my dear life, I would be incredibly insulted by a question like that."

"He's just a bard," Dustu looked to Emma, "I get the feeling he's not going to know anything else than what's told us."

"I get the same feeling."

As the two looked to each other, a loud banging noise was heard coming from upstairs.

"Think that's the commander, letting his feelings be known?"

"You are insufferable sometimes," Emma snapped back. She looked to Amos, "If anyone finds you in here, they will not hesitate to kill you. Do try to stay quiet, will you?" She made her way for the door with Dustu.

"Could I at least be let down?" Amos said to them, "Or another drink. Either or."

The two ignored him and began to climb the stairway into their living space of their homestead.

"I'll bring our things inside from the porch," Dustu said to her. Emma nodded, approaching the door.

"Took you long enough."

Emma turned around to see the golden-haired darkened over the years, dark-eyed Commander Uldin sitting in a chair, his two personal guards at his side. Although the guards were wearing their signature chainmail, Uldin was wearing a much more loose-fitting cloth jacket, stove-pipe pants, and traditional leather boots. It was apparent he was not dressed to fight, but instead to relax.

"I see you let yourself in," Emma said, "I would say to make yourselves at home, but it seems you've done just that. Without my consent."

"You were taking too long. That, and you failed to come directly to the war tent when you arrived for a report. I had to ensure my favorite lieutenant didn't get injured on the field of battle," he mockingly replied.

"You would know if I was injured if you fought on the battlefield, Commander," Emma spitefully said.

"Emma," he chuckled, "Your honesty cuts like the sharpest steel. You're fine, Dustu's fine, and you've returned to the camp in one piece. I couldn't be happier."

"Twenty-three," Emma gritted her teeth.

"Pardon?" Uldin leaned in curiously.

"Twenty-three of our fighters either died or deserted. And all you care about is whether I make it back?"

"You know that's not what I meant,"

"But it is what you said. We fight your battles, without your presence, and our numbers dwindle every time. You send us to face death head-on, underequipped, mind you, and for what? What have we gained?"

Uldin stood, taking a step towards Emma as his guards placed a hand on their weapons.

"We have gained the knowledge that seventy-four servants of darkness are no longer breathing in this world. That seventy-four servants of darkness will not be present when whoever leads them tries to cast this world into chaos. We are the only defense against them, so we will continue to fight them until our dying breath."

Emma took a step towards him now, staring Uldin down. Through gritted teeth, she replied, "It's not enough. It never will be enough. Tell the truth, you're sending us to our deaths."

Uldin smirked, "What's in the basement, Emma?"

Her eyes lit up in realization briefly before keeping her gaze on the commander.

"Training equipment. You've seen it a thousand times."

"I want to see it again."

Uldin turned away from her and began to walk towards the steps.

"Jeremis, what is this?" Emma tried to catch up to him but was held back by his guards. Annoyed, she shoved past the two, barely a challenge for her overwhelming strength. She made for the commander, who had by now placed his hand on the door. She looked at him in fear of what was to come next. What was her plan?

"When you returned, I received a report that you had brought the enemy into our home. You understand the punishment for treason. I will ask again; what's in the basement, Emma?"

Emma paused for a moment; how does she answer this? She began to open her mouth to speak before a sound came from the door beyond them.

"Just a bard!" Amos nervously shouted, "A bard and nothing more. You don't need to concern yourself with me."

Uldin narrowed his eyes at Emma, who could not believe what she was hearing. Without hesitating, the commander opened the door to see Amos still restrained, wearing the uniform that is standard for a servant of darkness.

"See? Just a bard," he began to sweat.

"So the rumors are true, then," Uldin spitefully looked to Emma, "You've betrayed us, Emma Oslyn."

"Jeremis, it isn't like that at all," she protested.

"No? This is a servant of darkness, the ones who bring chaos to our world, and you've brought him into our home?"

"I can assure you, good sir, that I haven't seen anything inside the walls of Camp Lunar. Truthfully, I haven't the slightest idea of where this place is, nor am I really a ser-"

"Silence, fool," Uldin cut him off, staring daggers into his eyes. Amos meekly nodded, realizing talking may not be in his best interest at this moment.

"You told him our camp name, brought him into our home, and attempted to hide him from me. What would you call that, Emma?"

"I- "she struggled to find the words. How does she find her way out of this?

"It's far from treason, Commander."

Dustu walked down the steps into the basement. His hands were shaking, but the confidence in his voice was unmistakable. He approached Emma, placing a shaking hand on her shoulder, nodding to her.

"She was only following her lord's orders. He wants this one brought to him."

Emma looked up to Dustu in shock. He had no idea if this was the best way out of this situation, but it was the only one he could think up.

"Really?" Uldin asked, half-amused, "Your lord wants this scum brought to him? And for what?"

"He," Emma began to find her words, "He's a fan of this one, in truth. You're in the company of Amos Song, the most revered bard in the chulux region," she confidently bluffed.

Uldin performed a double-take, looking back to Amos. He examined him carefully, before his eyes lit up.

"Well, I'll be, this is Amos Song."

Amos quipped up, "A pleasure to meet you, good sir," he sheepishly said.

"And you said your lord wants this here bard brought to him? Despite him being a servant of darkness?"

Emma and Dustu nodded.

"Indeed, Commander."

Uldin thought for a moment, pondering what to do before smirking again.

"Fine, you leave in the morning. Ride for Mertipi, and don't return until you've delivered this scum to your lord."

Emma, Dustu and Amos breathed a sigh of relief. Uldin began walking towards the steps again, but once he reached the doorway, he looked back to the three.

"But, Emma, if you fail in this mission, we will be charging you with treason. Failing to deliver on your lord's request, and bringing the enemy into our home? Well, those acts cannot be forgiven so easily."

He continued walking, his guards escorting him out of the house. After a few moments, the three heard the front door shut.

"Emma?" Dustu asked, "What's our plan?"

"Well, my apprentice," Emma looked to him, "It seems you'll get to meet him sooner than expected. We're going to bring Amos here to Lord Cecek."