Chương 19: The Pretty Boy, The Anyani, and The Lord Commander

"W-w'ere all going to die."

"They... are not going to kill us."

"I would rather die than be ravaged by these beasts!"

"Tch. They would soon ravage that young man that you and your ugly arse." Inside a cramped, dilapidated hut, several women were shackled to each other. They were packed so tight that most of them were probably breathing each other's breath. Most of them cried, but a few tried to stay strong. But unfortunately, all of their strength was targeted at one person—the only man in the group. Lamb's older brother, Ansel. Ansel looked at the women again, and all of them were staring at him.

At first, most of them were courteous to him since he was the youngest. But as soon as they knew he was a man, their entire attitude changed. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there with them, but their stares truly made it feel like he'd been there for a very, very long time. There were no windows, and the only light they had was from the small gaps between the logs. He glanced at the women again, and none of them were staring at him anymore. He preferred this... but what he didn't prefer was the silence.

Most of these women were taken from the villages nearby, and some were warriors from the battlefield. And some... reminded him of his mother. His sister would be alright, he was sure of it. But he worried for his mother, who had the tendency to lose herself in her craft, sewing endlessly until the first light. Lamb was a different matter altogether. If she were in his place, she would have probably already claimed this territory for his own—thinking about it almost made him smile. Almost.

But the reality of his situation once again weighed on him as soon as the chain around his ankles twisted.

"Kh..." He gritted his teeth, lightly tapping his skin that had already been sliced by the metal.

"Ha..." He hugged his knees closer. If only he'd been as strong as Lamb, then he could've at least freed himself from the shackles and helped these women. But alas, he was as helpless as they were.

"Tch... these savages are laughing again." The barbarians' laughter seeped into the wood more than the light did, and it made most of them want to clamp their ears. None of them understood what they were saying, but judging by the huffing noises they were making, it wasn't anything good for them.

"What... are they saying?" No. One of them did understand—everyone turned their heads to the only woman there who was chained to the ground. An older, pregnant woman. She was near the back wall, her hair braided and only a piece of cloth covering her body. She had not spoken much, but everyone knew she could understand the barbarians... as she was speaking their language earlier.

"W-what are they saying?" someone asked again, voice cracking. The old woman closed her eyes, sighing as she finally spoke.

"It is best for all of you not to know what awaits you here," was her answer. But they didn't need her to say that at all. Her bloated belly was enough for them to know what awaited them. And once again, like they had done several times before, most of them wailed together. Ansel pressed his fingers against his knees until they hurt. He wanted to tell them not to cry, but what would he say? That everything would be fine? That someone would come? Coming from him... a man? And no one was coming.

Gregor was dead, maybe. Or wounded. The Aldwyn soldiers do not have enough men to spare for them, even though they had been taking more and more people from Widow's Wall—but when they were the ones in need... This war would've probably been over yesterday if they had grabbed Enel instead of him. Ansel gasped at his own thoughts, shaking his head. No matter how strong Enel was, he was still a child—and to bring someone like that into war... would prove to be nothing but a disaster.

Highly idealistic, incessantly stubborn, and completely without fear. The complete opposite of him. If—"Akbo! Itan la anyani!" And as Ansel was finally losing himself in his own thoughts, a scream rose outside.

"W-what's... what's going on?" They had heard the barbarians scream the entire day, but this was much different from their usual bellows.

"Anyani na anito! Akbo! Ag na kayo man galaw!" And then, another scream. Everyone looked toward the door, only to see it shake.

"An... yani?" The old woman at the back went pale, and Ansel heard it.

"What... does that mean?" he whispered. The old woman didn't answer, but tugged at the chains binding her instead.

"What does that mean?!" someone else asked, and the old woman finally stopped struggling. She paused, looking at each of the women there and Ansel one by one.

"Monster," she answered." Anyani na anito... spirit monster."

"A rampaging spirit?!" One woman clasped her hair and curled.

"We... we have angered the spirits with our violence! They... they come to punish all of us!"

"Why us?! Surely, they've come here for the barbarians!" The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"W—""Grah!" The women didn't even have the luxury to guess their fate as another scream tore through the camp. And then, it was followed by a tremble. The ground, quaking violently to the point the dust from the ceiling showered down on them. They all turned their heads down, and someone accidentally fell against Ansel's shoulder, and he caught her before she hit the floor. Another tremor followed. Then... came a whistle.

A low-pitched whistle that seemed to move through the camp, followed by a small boom that shook the entire hut once more. The barbarians screamed again, and even though only the old woman could understand what they were saying, they all knew what they were feeling at the moment. Fear.

"Akbo!"

"S-sakolo! Sakolo! Tay... Tay!" The door shook as someone slammed against it from the other side, causing all the women to cry out and scramble back. Ansel pulled on the chain on his ankles as far as it could go, then ran toward a broken piece of wood that had fallen earlier. He held it, pointing it at the door as it slowly opened. A barbarian stood there, breathing hard. Blood ran from his nose, and his eyes moved wildly across the captives. He stepped forward, but then... he vanished.

All Ansel could hear was a small yelp before something gold and red swept him away from the door.

"What... was that?" Ansel stood there, still holding his weapon. And then, finally, they heard a familiar language outside.

"I am not here to kill any of you. Please, do not fight back. I... do not want to hurt anyone anymore."

"That voice...?" Ansel's grip on the wood loosened, but he didn't move just yet. None of them did. A moment later, another northerner shouted... but he wasn't allowed to complete it. The old woman near the back whispered something.

"They... they are begging for mercy."

"The barbarians?" Ansel's eyes turned wide.

"But... don't they rather die?"

"Not against whatever has visited their camp."

"I..." Ansel whispered.

"I might know what it is—who." Ansel stood up, tugging on the chain and glancing at the women to follow him.

"W-wait!" one of the women screamed.

"What—""I know him," Ansel said, much more confident this time.

"I'm sure of it!" They all heard the change in his voice, and they all looked at each other before slowly getting up on their feet one by one. And hesitantly, they followed behind him. Ansel took his first step back into the light, squinting his eyes for a moment. At first, he could not understand what he was seeing. The northern camp was... broken. Completely. Everything was destroyed, and the only thing left standing was the hut they were in.

The weapons of the barbarians were all scattered in one place, and the horses were all tied to one single post. And the barbarians… They were also tied. More than a dozen of them were hugging each other and tied together with... swords twisted. Ansel took another step carefully, and the women followed behind him.

"A-a barbarian!" A northerner rushed at them, only to immediately disappear when the same gold and red shadow blew past him. No—not a shadow at all. Ansel was right. It was Enel. He was now tying the barbarian and adding him to the lot he'd already gathered. His red cape was torn at the edge and stained with mud, but he didn't seem to mind at all and was even using it to wipe the dirt in his hands. And then, he finally glanced back. Ansel was about to wave and smile at him, but then...

he saw a face the young baron of Widow's Wall had never made before. He wasn't crying. He didn't even have a frown on his face—but Ansel noticed it. The clouded look in his eyes, it was... almost similar to all the women behind him. But as soon as Enel spotted him, a smile crawled onto his face. A forced one. Ansel froze for a moment, not knowing how to return that gesture. But after a while, he forced out a smile of his own and waved.

"Ansel," Enel said, carefully approaching and then bowing toward the women behind him.

"I am here to take you home." Then his eyes moved toward the shackles bounding them.

"No. All of you."

"Enel, I—" Ansel looked past him, toward the bound northerners.

"You spared them?" The forced smile on Enel's face faltered.

"They... stopped fighting."

"They took us."

"I know. We are at war."

"Then why are they still breathing...?" Ansel swallowed.

"They... these people have put their hands on women, Enel." Enel looked at the women behind Ansel, then at the men tied together. And quietly, he unsheathed his sword.

"Which one, Ansel?" Enel asked.

"I..." Ansel tightened his grip on his wooden stick. He stared at Enel, then at the ceremonial sword of House Blackwood. And soon, his voice lowered.

"... Does it matter?" Back at the Western Camp. Even with the barbarians retreating as fast as they did, the wounded still numbered a dozen. But the death, the death could be counted in one hand—that was what surprised Lord Commander Duncan the most.

"Lord Commander." Every person greeted him as he arrived, but he motioned for them to stay put.

"Settle, men. Rest. What are you doing standing?" Duncan rushed toward one of the men approaching him, who had an arrow sticking out of his thigh. He grabbed the man's arm, rolling it over his shoulders to gently lift him.

"Someone aid this man!" Duncan placed the man on a cot, then quickly helped rebuild a tent that had collapsed on the side. All the people there saluted and greeted him with respect, but he told them all to be at ease as he started helping around the camp. And soon he saw people struggling to drag a boulder away. He wondered why they were doing that at first, but then realized it wasn't a boulder—but a barbarian.

"Tibay the Mountaincrusher," he murmured, recognizing who it was. He squinted, gazing down at the hole on the barbarian's chest.

"Did he do that, as well?"

"Y-yes, Lord Commander!" The knight who'd been quietly following behind him drew closer.

"Enel of House Blackwood. They have been calling him the Hero of the West Camp."

"Hero of the West Camp..." Duncan stared at Tibay's corpse, and although it was incredibly subtle, a smile crept onto his face.

"We could use that right now. Guard the camp, I will go and—""H-help!" Duncan's head quickly snapped toward the scream, and as soon as he saw someone pinned down by a horse, he disappeared.

"Wh—" The knight covered his face, almost stumbling back from the sheer force of Duncan's sprint.

"Lord Commander!"

"Agh..." The other soldiers at the back weren't as sturdy as the knight, and found their asses deep into the mud. The knight glanced at them, then slowly helped them up.

"T-thank you, M'lord," one of them said.

"I... almost forgot the Lord Commander is a Hero."

"Hm." The knight scoffed, but a smile still crept onto his face as he looked proudly at the trail Duncan left behind.

"The Lord Commander may carry himself like a common soldier, but never mistake him for one. His Breath is at the Sixth Depth—second only to His Highness, the prince."

"The..." The soldiers looked at each other.

"Then who do you think is stronger?" The knight glanced at them.

"What?"

"The Lord Commander... or the Hero of the West Camp?" Duncan arrived at the fallen horse and immediately crouched beside the trapped man. He gently lifted the horse, but everyone else there backed away as soon as they saw that the lower half of the man was... mangled. His guts were also splayed out, and his bones were sticking out of his thighs. Duncan glanced at this, then calmly looked at the man.

"T-thank you, Lord Commander. I..." the man's voice started to slur.

"You will be fine, Pete of Pigeon's Grove," Duncan lightly pressed the man's head down, not letting him see his wounds.

"And you fought well."

"You..." the man wheezed.

"You... you know me, M'lord?"

"Of course," Duncan said, his eyes finding the priest. But as soon as he met eyes with the priestess, she lowered and lightly shook her head. Duncan immediately turned his focus back to the dying man, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Pigeon's Grove. Can you tell me about it, Pete?"

"Y-yes…" Pete's eyes looked at the bright sky above, remembering his home. Duncan placed his hand on his chest... and his fingers pierced through Pete's heart. It was quick. Just a single breath, and Pete died thinking of home. Duncan stared as the life in Pete's eyes faded away. But the soldier's smile... his smile stayed.

"May the Sovereign take you home," Duncan prayed, slowly pulling his bloodied hand away from Pete's chest.

"Make sure he is buried alongside our brothers and sisters who fought bravely with us."

"Yes, Lord Commander!" Duncan nodded and turned around in the direction of the barbarian's camp. Before he could start making his way there, however, a shout rose right where he was looking.

"The Hero of the West Camp is back!"

"He... he brought the others back with him!" Duncan watched as most of the men in the camp rushed toward the far end of the camp. Their roars and cheers spread everywhere—even the wounded tried to lift their heads and stand up.

"Ho..." Duncan smiled at this, then glanced back at the knight behind him.

"Are you not going to meet the Hero of the West Camp, Jud?"

"I—""It is okay. I will meet with him, too." Duncan motioned for him to go.

"Bring him to me afterward. We—" No one needed to bring anyone to him, however...... Because Enel was already walking toward him.