“Captain
Hern, are you sure that Squire didn’t defect to the other side?”
“Watch
your mouth, Stain, or I’ll rip it off.”
“The
caravan should have reached Dzeth almost three weeks ago,” Stain
said sharply “The route’s safe, except for the Evont Cluster. But
Rakel and the caravan supposedly passed through that.”
“Rakel
isn’t that kind of man,” Hern said firmly.
“Fine,
fine.” Stain raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you can’t
deny it’s odd.”
“What
were you border dogs doing in Thal’rasha anyway? Huh?” Hern spat,
irritated by Stain “Tch. Why are you even here with me?”
“Orders
from above,” Stain said with a smirk, brushing sand off his
shoulder. “Can’t help it, Captain. The rulers are anxious with
everything happening in Arazan.”
Hern
kicked at the loose sand, sending a small spray scattering over his
boots. “The
sewer rats again? How in the hell did those filth get past the Order
of Juh?”
Stain
shrugged lazily. “No
idea.”
Stain
was one of the border captains of Kastar, part of an elite force akin
to the Order of Juh. With recent events involving the Rat Knights, a
few of these units, including Stain and some higher-ranking officers,
had been called back to investigate.
The
disappearance of Rakel and the slave caravan after passing through
the Evont Cluster had triggered an investigation notice to
Thal’rasha.
General
Koles had been held responsible for the mishap, and Captain Hern and
Stain were dispatched to uncover the truth under his orders
An
investigative notice for a slave caravan—bullshit. Someone wants
Koles out, Stain thought.
“It’s
an awful lot of people to trace a caravan,” he remarked, glancing
at the squad trailing behind.
Hern
and Stain were full-fledged knights, accompanied by a small unit of
soldiers, two 3rd-class Magus, and a tracer.
“Koles
was fond of Rakel." Hern sighed
“That
old fart? Fond of a squire?” Stain scoffed.
“Watch
your mouth, border dog,” Hern snapped. “Rakel wasn’t just any
squire. He was already at the level of a low-level knight.”
“It’s
not unheard of,” Stain replied, running a hand through his hair.
“Plenty of squires from Arazan reach that level by his age.”
“Rakel
started training two years ago.”
Stain’s
eyes widened, and for once, he seemed at a loss for words. “Then
that was a huge loss.”
“Indeed.
Koles invested a lot into him,” Hern admitted. “If he defected,
it would all go to waste.”
Stain
scratched his head and glanced at the tracer. The hooded figure
carried a special stone apparatus etched with glowing glyphs.
“Are
we there yet?” Stain asked.
The
tracer examined the device and shook his head. “No
signs yet, Captain. Wait, so—”
A
sudden, faint glow enveloped the apparatus. The tracer scrambled and
said, “Captain,
it’s showing something—right up ahead.”
“Squad,
alert!” Stain barked, unsheathing his sword.
The
signs pointed to the middle of the desert. There was a strong chance
the caravan had been attacked—either by monsters or a bandit group.
Stain, with his experience, knew better than to rush in blindly.
The
Magus adjusted their gloves as they prepared for a fight.
Raising
a hand, Stain signaled for caution and advanced with Hern. The trail
led them toward the far side of a towering sand dunes.
As
Stain walked up the dune, his breath caught, and his eyes widened at
the sight below.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Stain,
what is it?” Hern asked, tugging on his shoulder. “Why did y—”
He
froze mid-sentence. The desert lay eerily still, littered with
shattered rocks and bones. Skulls and skeletons—human and beast
alike—were scattered in the sand, drenched in the vulgar stench of
acid and rotting flesh.
Birds
and desert scavengers feasted on the remains. The sand below had
turned a faint red, soaking the blood.
“What...
what happened here?” Stain murmured.
“It’s
clear,” Hern called back to the others, though his voice wavered.
“Let’s
get closer,” he said, turning to Stain.
As
they went closer, the smell of the rotting flesh became stronger, and
the birds took off into the clear sky.
They
descended the dune, the acrid smell of flesh grew stronger. The
sudden flurry of wings broke as the desert scavenger birds took to
the sky.
“Ugh…”
Hern covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve at the stench.
Stain,
unfazed, scanned the surroundings. The rest of the group followed his
lead, their faces pale as they moved carefully through the sea of
remains.
“The
worst has happened, Hern,” Stain muttered, inspecting the remains
with his gloved hands.
“What
do you mean?” Hern asked, his voice muffled behind his sleeve.
“It
seems the caravan fell prey to bone-eaters.”
“Bone-eaters?
On this route?” Hern frowned.
“Odd,
isn’t it?” Stain replied, gesturing at the scattered remains.
“But these are normal bone-eaters. A squire of Rakel’s caliber
should have been able to handle them easily.”
“Captain,
come take a look at this,” the tracer called out, his voice tinged
with urgency.
The
two knights approached to find a larger skeleton—the carcass of an
elder bone-eater. Its flesh hung in rotting strips, riddled with
worms writhing through. Stain knelt by the creature’s
skull, examining the jawbones.
“An
elder?” Stain clicked his tongue in frustration.
Nearby
lay the lower body skeleton of a human. A rusted sword lay
half-buried in the sand beside it, glinting faintly in the sunlight.
The
tracer exhaled sharply, pointing at the remains. “This
appears to be Rakel’s body.”
Hern’s
clicked his tongue. “This doesn’t add up.”
“How
could he die fighting an elder? A squire of his caliber should have
been able to kill one,” he said, shaking his head.
“And
this is an open plain,” Stain added grimly. “There’s no terrain
disadvantage here.”
The
tracer crouched near the elder’s
remains. “By the looks of it, Rakel managed to kill this elder
before he fell.”
Stain
rose to his feet and ordered, “Search
the area for more clues.”
The
rest of the unit scattered out, scouring the scene. They uncovered
scattered remnants of the slaves—tattered leather armor, rusted
weapons embedded in the sand, and shredded rags partially consumed by
scavengers. Nearby lay the half-eaten bodies of soldiers and slaves,
their bones picked clean by desert birds.
As
Stain scanned the scene, his gaze fell upon a skeleton severed at the
waist. It lay outside the main zone of the battle, partially buried
in the sand. Tattered rags and shards of armor clung to its bones,
and within its ribcage, a rusted badge caught the sunlight.
“Hmm…
Could this be the rest of the squire’s remains?” he muttered to himself,
crouching down for a closer look.
The
cuts aren’t
clean—more like deep tears. Claws, most likely.
“Interesting,”
he mumbled, standing and brushing the sand from his gloves before
heading back toward the unit.
Nearby,
the tracer knelt with his stone apparatus, its runes confirming the
identities of several soldier corpses.
“Koles
must be furious,” Stain remarked as he joined Hern.
“Surely,”
“It’s
odd.”
“What’s
odd?” Hern asked, frowning
“Bone-eaters
on this route,” Stain replied, gesturing at the scene. “By the
looks of it, there were two elder bone-eaters here.”
“Is
that surprising?”
Stain
sighed, shaking his head. “You
city-knights wouldn’t understand this, but elder bone-eaters never
work together.”
“Huh?
Why’s that?” Hern asked, tilting his head in confusion.
“An
elder bone-eater acts as a commander,” Stain explained. “It leads
its unit, and there’s no need for two commanders in a single
group.”
“That’s
strange. Didn’t elders group up during the horde attacks a few
years ago?” Hern asked.
Stain
sighed. “The
horde was different. Those elders were led by an Ancient,” he said
“Ancients are unique—one of a kind. Elders can’t resist their
control.”
“There
might be a ch—” Hern began, only for Stain to cut him off.
“No.”
Stain’s frown deepened. “An Ancient making a move would mean an
all-out war, Hern.”
Hern
fell silent, swallowing hard. He knew better than to argue on matters
like this. Stain’s
experience as a border knight, seasoned by countless experiences that
far exceeded his own.
“But
you know what’s weirder than that?”
“What?”
asked Hern.
“Where
are the Ish’raks?”
“What
do you mean? Their remains are here, aren’t they?”
“Not
all of them,” Stain said shaking his head. “And notice something
else—the skeletons are intact. Bone-eaters consume their prey. You
really expect me to believe the elder that killed Rakel just left
without consuming anything?”
The
tracer jogged back to the group, his face tense. “We’ve
identified the soldiers’ remains, Captain.”
Stain
folded his arms “What
about the slaves?”
The
tracer hesitated. “Should
we… do something about them?”
Hern
clicked his tongue in disgust. “Why
would we waste time on those filth?”
“Right…”
the tracer murmured, looking down.
“Retrieve
any weapons and badges from the soldiers. Leave nothing useful
behind.” Stain said
The
tracer stepped closer, lowering his voice. “According
to the records, one slave is unaccounted for.”
Stain’s
eyes narrowed. “Send it to her.”
The
tracer’s
face paled. “Are you certain, Captain? If she gets involved, this
will escalate into something much bigger.”
“It
already is,” Stain replied, his voice low. “Hern doesn’t know
the full picture, and you’re aware of Koles’s ties to the
faction.”
The
tracer’s
reluctantly asked . “This… this was a targeted attack?”
Stain’s
sighed. “Exactly.”
“Hey,
Border dog!” Hern’s voice rang out from a distance. “What are
you doing over there? The investigation’s done!”
Stain
clicked his tongue in irritation before turning back to the tracer.
“You
have your orders. Do as I say.”
The
tracer hesitated briefly, then nodded. “Understood,
Captain.”
