Leon watched the blood drip to the floor, pooling at the base of the tree that sat at the edge of the hill overlooking the city. He had been standing there for over ten minutes, and his men were starting to fidget while waiting for his command.

  Leon turned to face his men, his lieutenants, who he hand picked for this mission all wore grim frowns, their eyes cast down, the weight of his failure spilling onto their shoulders. Dotted between his personal retinue stood the helpers he had brought in to help conduct the search.

  He looked to Polo, one of the oldest and most accomplished hunters in the city, as the man held his bow between Leon and himself. Every few moments he would glance at Leon’s face, shift his weight from one foot to the other, then look away.

  He never once glanced at the bodies hanging in the trees. It made the heat in his chest too much to bear.

  Leon grabbed Polo by the shirt and hoisted him into the air till they were face to face. The hawk nosed man squealed in terror, his quick feet dangling beneath him.

  “Why can’t you find them!?” he seethed.

  Polo didn’t even try to fight back, just looked over his shoulder at the men watching, like they could help. When none stepped forward, he started babbling. “When we could find them, they just disappeared! But now we can’t— there’s too many men! Too many footprints to keep track of! Finding a single sign of them through all the noise is impossible!”

  Leon let go of his shirt and grabbed him by the back of the head instead. He dragged him to the base of the tree, and made him stare at the guard hanging by the branch skewering his neck.

  “There’s your first, second, and last sign! What other hints do you need!? They are in the forest! The entire army is too shit scared to leave their camp because of your failure!”

  “Leon, please! We’re friends! You know hunting takes tim—” he begged, tears falling down his face.

  Leon hesitated. He dropped Polo, who fell to his hands and knees and started to scuttle away, crying as he did so. His hands shook from the heat in them, and he brought them up to his face, staring at the thing he was becoming. On reflex, he took a step back in horror at what he had done.

  Another droplet hit the pool of blood, a tiny splash reverberating through his ears like a thunderclap, and that horror disappeared.

  He loomed over Polo once again, his voice now a dangerous whisper. “It’s. been. four. fucking DAYS! How much longer do you need!? How many more people have to die!?”

  Leon felt a hand on his shoulder, and he whirled around to see who would dare interfere as Polo started to cry harder behind him. But what he found was Maximus, his eyes cast down like the rest, shaking his head from side to side.

  “He’s not to blame, Leon,” he said. You are.

  “I know that!” Leon shouted, grabbing his sword to avoid using that hand to strike the man.

  Maximus held up placating hands, before turning away from Leon. “You, you and you.” he pointed at three groups of guards. “Take the bodies down. Give them a proper burning.”

  He then turned to Polo, still sniffling on his hands and knees. “Have half your men check the area. The mana users are bad, but with this many bodies…”

  Leon didn’t need a reminder that those scoundrels were ringing the ants' dinner bell. And now he was being upstaged, all because he couldn’t keep his temper in check. The men were glancing between him and Maximus, unsure of who to obey. Leon grunted at them, “Do it for fucks sake!”

  They all saluted before sprinting off to do their assigned orders as loud trumpets echoed through the air. Leon turned to the noise, his temper becoming worse as two palace guards, adorned in purple armour exited the locked city gates. The horses they rode sprinted up the hill with all the speed they could muster.

  Maximus tried to whisper to himself, but Leon heard it all the same. “What could that lazy bastard want now?”

  Agreeing with the sentiment silently, he strode down the hill towards the men, not letting go of the sword. A small, forgotten part of him hoped those men would give him a reason to use it.

  They came to a halt right before him, their steeds breathing hard as the men stared down at Leon like he was an eyesore. The front man was a skinny thing, bald with dark eyebrows, looking down at Leon past a hooked nose. He patted his horse's saddle, searching for something.

  The other mounted man, a blonde haired youth with broad shoulders, held a sneer on his lips and a glee in his eyes. He stared at the tree with the hanging bodies, as if Leon was the biggest disappointment he had ever heard of. The youth seemed to be relishing in every detail of his failure.

  The skinny man found what he was looking for, and pulled out a parchment with the Archduke's seal stamped on it.

  “Are you Captain Leon of the Albus Citadel’s guards, the one known as the Ant Killer?” he asked, keeping the parchment in hand.

  “Yes,” Leon answered, knowing the man recognized him yet still being pompous enough to go through all the procedures. “What do you want?”

  The skinny man held the parchment toward him. Without breaking eye contact, Leon reached forward and grabbed a hold of it, unfurling the piece of parchment like it was a wretched thing. He glanced at the parchment, and locked his teeth together before they could let out the scream in his chest.

  The skinny man cleared his throat. “By the Archduke's decree, you are to at once bring your militia into the city, and seal the gates for all newcomers. You are to hand over command to Caleb here,” The man gestured at the youth, who sat tall on his steed. “And relinquish all command—”

  “Excuse me?” Leon whispered.

  “After which,” the skinny man continued, ignoring Leon’s question. “I am ordered to personally escort you to the Archduke's council chambers, where your punishment shall be decided. You have until sundown to comply.”

  Leon almost smiled. “And if I say no?”

  The blonde youth, Caleb, rolled his shoulders and put his hand on the sword strapped to his saddle, “You don’t get to say no, sir.”

  Leon stared at the grinning youth, trying to wrap his head around what the boy had said. His heart jumped with joy, and that heat spread to every part of him, cradling him like a lover, whispering in his ear to enjoy himself for once.

  Leon let the threat hang between them. Despite the silence, Caleb’s arrogance remained intact as he sat back in his saddle. The boy almost puffed his chest out, like he had proven himself a big man now that he’d insulted Leon to his face. The skinny man had his shaking hand on his sword. So he knew what could have happened. It almost made Leon snort.

  He broke his staring contest by pointing at the youth’s chest. “You, boy. There is a problem you will deal with.”

  His cocky grin turned to a scowl, “You have no command over me, sir. I refuse.”

  Leon raised a single eyebrow. “I have not relinquished my command yet. And to do so, I need you to deal with a problem. So you will. Now, come closer, I doubt I can illustrate the issue when we are so far apart.”

  He turned his back on the child, and faced the tree with the skewered bodies.

  Before the tree stood Maximus, his sword drawn as he stared down at the… conversation Leon was having from the top of the hill. At his side stood every guard and hunter, including Polo, still sniffing. Each man had their hand on a weapon, many more patrols filing in behind this makeshift battle line, each one looking ready and eager for a fight.

  Leon gave them a thankful smile, but indicated for them to stay there hand. For now.

  The skinny man and Caleb shared a glance, before the youth trotted forward, staring at where Leon had indicated, “I don’t see—”

  Leon reached up as gently as if he were lighting an evening candle, and hooked his fingers into the boy's breastplate. Caleb didn’t have time to blink as Leon wrenched him off his horse, and he squawked as he crashed into the floor, his perfect armour being covered in mud and dirt.

  “What do you think you're doing!?” the skinny man said, his sword half unsheathed as he strode forward to defend his companion.

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  “How can you escort me while I walk?” Leon asked, his voice as calm as ever.

  He mounted the youth’s horse as Caleb shouted at him from the dirt. “You can’t just—”

  Leon ignored him, waving his hand at Maximus. He needn’t have bothered, his most trusted lieutenant was already half way down the hill, dozens of Leon’s best men at his back. They came to a stop before him, his men forming a semi circle around the boy, still wallowing about in the mud.

  “What are our orders, sir?” Maximus asked, eyeing the still mounted skinny man like a piece of meat.

  “Have those men receive a hero's burning,” he said, gesturing towards the tree. “Maximus, you are now in charge of this army. Get the rest of these men behind the city walls, seal off every exit and entrance. We need to double our numbers, so keep recruiting every willing and able bodied man you can find.”

  Caleb tried to protest as he climbed back onto his feet. Leon kicked him square in the chest, causing the boy to fly backwards and land on his arse before Maximus’s feet. “I have taken the liberty of getting you started in this new recruitment effort.”

  Maximus nodded, not even glancing at the child at his feet. “May the gods go with you sir.”

  “And with you, friends,” Leon said, saluting.

  Every man before him returned the gesture.

  Leon turned his horse around, and started galloping down the hill, leaving the skinny man to gawk at his disappearing back as he rode for the palace. It was time for him to see the Archduke.

  ~break~

  Leon threw open the doors to the throne room, every wall lined with paintings of grand dukes and duchesses all wearing the most refined jewelry, the very best of garments, all in colours so exotic he could not recall a single time seeing them outside of this room. Before the walls were the nobles, all seated and staring at Leon with both disgust and hope, knowing only he could save them and hating him for it. He ignored those leeches with practiced ease.

  He strode towards the throne, a golden chair elevated half a story in the air so the Archduke could stare down at any human being who stepped through the large double doors behind Leon, which if breached had a solid wall of granite that would come crashing down. The rest of the palace, including almost all of the nobles, would perish if that thing came down, since he doubted the Archduke would let them in.

  How the Archduke and his chosen few would not starve to death, Leon did not know, but he had long suspected an entrance hidden within the walls that would allow a swift escape when necessary. He pondered this as he approached the throne, the Archduke’s eyes bulging as his voice rose with every step Leon took.

  Many times in Leon’s life he had been here, receiving harsh reprimands or the highest of praise, banquets and lashings following soon after. Not once could he bring himself to glance at the tapestry that sat behind the golden throne.

  It depicted the Archduke, no fatness in his face, none of the madness in his eyes, who sat regally atop a horse adorned in purple armour, facing down an ant horde. There had been an outbreak at Braila, a city lying north of the Albus Citadel. It was the largest city ever to be struck with the ant plague.

  Leon knelt before the stairs leading up to the throne, as he had done many times throughout his life. But this time was different, because it was the first time he glanced at the painting. He had not done so in the six years since it was painted, in the vain attempt at preventing the sneer that would spread across his face upon the sight of that fat lout doing anything but eat and fuck.

  But the moment he glanced at the tiny black dots littering the landscape behind the Archduke in the tapestry, he wished he’d never raised his eyes. The memories of that day came flooding back, the purple and blue ants tearing into people with those disgusting things they called mouths. He could almost hear that chittering noise in his ear, almost feel the flames and pinpricks on his skin from when he had jumped in a fire to get the small ones off.

  He shook his head, cradling the heat in his chest. It comforted him, even if it wanted to rip the Archduke’s head off. Returning to the moment, his usual dissociation at being in the room almost costing him a chance to respond to the Archduke, who was still blubbering obscenities at him.

  “—And another thing you foul oaf!” The Archduke screamed, his eyes bulging as he pointed a chicken leg at Leon’s head. “You make an army in my city, which you don’t bother to tell me about I might add! And then you go riding through the forest, driving away every merchant who would visit the city before losing over forty men to these so called mana users! Did you know those men had their bodies hung from trees for the entire city to see!? Can you even do anything right!? How hard is it to catch three miserable little wretches!?”

  As hard as it is to ignore a screaming boy on the side of the road because you don’t feel safe without me, coward.

  Leon had to think of his daughter laughing just to try and calm himself down. Someone had leaked the message shot through that window. One of his men had whispered into this idiot’s ear about what was going on inside the city. That traitor had made Leon’s job ten times harder, all so he could kiss up. When this was over, Leon would find him, or them, and show them the error of their ways.

  But his daughter’s laughter let him ignore that for now, her little smile as she told him about her first sale making his mind clear. He stopped kneeling, which the Archduke started chastising, dusted off his knees now covered in salt dust before he cut through the noise.

  “Your lordship, why have you brought the army back inside the walls?” Leon asked, his voice echoing throughout the room.

  The Archduke flinched back into the throne, his eyes darting to every corner like Leon would pop out of them before his glare returned. “We are under siege! The city must be protected in case those mana users breach the walls!”

  The nobles nodded along like good dogs.

  Despite common sense, Leon tried to use reason. “As you already know, there are only three of them. Catching them out in the open is the only way—”

  The Archduke stood from the throne now, chucking the chicken leg at Leon. It sailed through the air, and didn’t even make it down most of the steps before Leon. “You are chasing them out in the open and got thirty dead peasants for your trouble! Are you not listening to me, you oaf!? You buffoon!? While you’ve been chasing your tail in the forest, a girl was killed in the Crumbles gang war that caused hundreds of mana users to pop out of thin air! They are slaughtering the peasants like cattle! And you worry about three of their number in a forest outside of the city!? The riff raff are eating each other! And you're not even here to keep these fine men and women safe! How incompetent can you be!?”

  Leon suppressed an eyeroll. There aren’t a hundred mana users in the city, that’s just a rumour one of the gangs started to make themselves look dangerous. I can sort out the gang war in the crumbles within less than a day. The mana users outside the walls are something very, very different you stupid bastard.

  “We are close, bringing the army back now will only—”

  “I will hear no more of it Leon! Not another word! The army will come back into the walls, and stay there! And you!” The man pointed at Leon now, cruelty curling the edges of his lips. “You will stay there! Right! There! We need protection now!”

  Leon’s eyes narrowed. “If you are so concerned for your safety, you should leave the city. Go to the Capitol. They will take you in.”

  The nobles hesitated, whispering to each other. They might as well have shouted in Leon’s ear. Almost every single one of them agreed with him, but all glanced at the duke, crying on his little throne.

  “Did you not hear a word I said!? Corpses lining the silk road and the forest surrounding it! How safe would I be when mana users have torn through my knights like they did through your little militia!? Hey!? No you fool! We will not leave! And neither! Shall! You!”

  Leon’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword, his knuckles long since turned white. “Frankly, Pompey... I disagree.”

  The room went dead quiet. All whispers stopped, all the snickers silenced. Every eye was on him. Especially the Archduke, who was looking at Leon like he had spoken a different language. “What?”

  “I disagree. I will not stay here. And I will not protect you. You have your palace guards, which are supposedly worth ten of my men. So I don’t think I’m needed here. ”

  “You will—!”

  “I will not. And if you disagree with my disagreement… good luck trying to stop me,” Leon said, cocking his head to the side and returning the Archduke's gaze for the first time.

  He crumbled beneath it, falling back into his throne and clutching at his chest like he had had a heart attack.

  Leon turned, and started walking for the door, the weight of this city being lifted off his shoulders. No, it wasn’t the city. He loved its people and most of its visitors, even the Northerners who he had fought in that horrific war only mildly annoyed him. What weighed on his shoulders was that fat idiot, with his purple jewelry and sycophants all trying their best to lodge their lips up his ass.

  His gaze did not move from the doors, even as the palace guards barred the way, the old ones quacking in their boots and the young ones sneering at him like they stood a chance. The nobles were on their feet, each one of them roaring at Leon, calling him every name under the sun, most of them coming back to some form of ‘coward’. Leon didn’t care. He’d kill the mana users, those affronts to the gods, and then leave. No more would he have to deal with… them.

  He was halfway to the doors when a hooknosed lad ran past him, staring wide eyed at each of the nobles and Archduke all screaming obscenities at Leon’s back. Leon zeroed in on the pitter patter of his footsteps as he raced across the hall, climbed the steps, and came to a stop next to the throne.

  Leon glanced back over his shoulder, to see the boy lean down to whisper in the Archduke’s ear, “We have them, my lord.”

  And the way he said it, made Leon almost hesitate. But it couldn’t concern him, so he kept walking. He stopped when he heard the Archduke’s desperate, contemptuous shouts turn to gleeful, cruel ones.

  “Oh Leon! We are such good friends, I don’t want to see any harm come to you! Or your family!”

  Leon stopped in his tracks and turned back to the throne. His sword had almost drawn itself.

  “Excuse me?”

  The Archduke ignored his open glare. “The mana users have frightened all the peasants almost into open rebellion! I didn’t want your peasant family to be caught in such a dangerous situation, so I brought them here! They shall be under my care until this business is dealt with! So, my mighty Leon, my Ant Killer… do you still disagree!?”

  Leon stared at the man, heard all the whispers snicker and leer at him from the corners, as all the heat in his chest turned into a dragonfire, threatening to burn every inch of him lest he give it an outlet, just something to ease the heat.

  But he couldn’t. He would have to grit his teeth and accept this all consuming rage pounding at the back of his eyes.

  But soon. If the note was correct, those mana users would come to this very throne room, and he doubted they’d go through the city. What harm is there in letting them in? In the ensuing chaos… accidents are bound to happen. And when this is over, he would never have to feel this again.

  “I do not,” Leon said, kneeling once again. “Your wish is my command, my lord.”