“Have you noticed Valeryn seems more easy-going than when he was younger? He reminds me of… well, me. Except, I can tell that grin he wears isn’t quite real all of the time. It seems like he’s hidden his truer self beneath a layer of falsehoods. Though I doubt there’s anything treacherous about it, I just think he’s attempting to reach a breakthrough with his understanding of swords.

-Ira when speaking to his wife, Avery, about Valeryn’s strange behavior.

...

Under the cover of darkness, Valeryn rowed the small boat ashore before looking back. The prison ship had already been split into two halves and several warships flanked the surrounding waters, searching for any survivors. Judging from the occasional screams echoing in the distance, the purpose of the Khalthurian warships wasn’t to rescue anyone.

It was likely they would send a patrol over to the small island but since the distance between the destroyed ship and the island wasn’t one that could be crossed so easily for those forced to swim, it was safe to say they wouldn’t exactly expect someone to make it ashore. Even if they did, they would be far too exhausted to continue on which meant they were easy prey.

As Valeryn pulled the boat further onto the island, he immediately noticed some tracks that were hidden with great effort. He quickly drew his sword and cut the now useless rowboat into pieces before discarding the wood in order to make it seem as if it was debris that washed ashore. After making sure any trace of his arrival was completely wiped away, he closed his eyes and immediately fell into a state of concentration.

‘A sword must be steady and sharp, even when held within a sheath. I will be the same.’

As Valeryn briefly pondered, his presence began to grow fainter. He opened his eyes and sent his focused gaze into the thick vegetation of the small island.

With near-silent steps, Valeryn entered the brush like a quiet specter.

…

Further within the jungle, several naval guards were huddled in the mud. Of course, the leader of the rather inexperienced group was Bertrand who was following, what probably was, Captain Gerhardt's final orders.

“What are we to do if those Khalthurians come here?” Someone asked in a hushed whisper.

“That’ll be the least of our worries if we get caught. Do you know what they do to prisoners?”

“Aye, I’ve heard. The spell casters try all sorts of things out on you while you’re still alive. Heard they raided a fortress on the border and drilled a hole in the heads of everyone they captured. When the Kingdom's reinforcements arrived it was far too late. Everyone there had been changed… like they weren’t alive and weren’t quite dead.”

“Then we fight until we die! I won’t let something so cruel happen to me!”

“Quiet!” Bertrand ordered.

The young men immediately became silent which allowed him to contemplate for a few moments. He unconsciously touched the message tucked into his leather satchel as he tried to think of a plan.

“We have to get back to the Kingdom and inform King Lucian of what’s happened… That means no matter what, at least one of us has to survive so we’ll have avoid fighting if isn't necessary... If I’m the first one to die, then you must take this satchel straight to the King, got it?”

The youthful naval guards nodded grimly while Bertrand’s expression loosened in contrast, feeling that they finally understood the severity of the situation.

“You check over there!” A stranger’s voice reached the group.

“Quick, hide!” said Bertrand as he smeared mud over his body before attempting to sink deeper into the brush. His companions hastily did the same as enemy soldiers carried torches made their way over.

“There’s nothing here.” A Khalthurian soldier grumbled.

“Ah, if only those spell casters would help,” Another soldier mused, examining the ground for any tracks.

Although their complaints made them sound reluctant, they carried out their duties to the letter, examining the ground for even the slightest of traces. As a very aggressive empire, Khalthurians were regularly trained in tracking. In fact, it was one of their most notable skills, only coming second to their ability to enact unthinkable cruelty onto other living beings.

“Do you two see anything?!” A shout came from afar.

“Not yet!” One of the soldiers shouted back.

“Then keep looking! I’d hate to go back to Fleet Master Quinn without something to show!”

“You and I both, brother! They don’t call him Quinn the Man-Eater for nothing!”

The two groups of soldiers lightly chuckled before resuming their search. As they grew closer to Bertrand and the naval guards, the former thought his heart would explode out of his chest. He lay face up in the mud, covered with light foliage to help him blend in, but his nerves began to falter under the pressure and he felt it difficult to conceal his breath.

“Wait…” One of the soldiers whispered within earshot of Bertrand.

While Bertrand couldn’t see, he practically could feel one of the soldiers kneeling down.

“There’s something… something was here…” the Khalthurian soldier said coldly, a far cry from his previously jovial self.

“Come out and I'll let you die easy!” The second soldier barked while drawing his sword.

Bertrand's heart stopped at that moment as his eyes slowly opened. He wanted to know who it was who had been caught.

“Oh, please be serious, you’re lucky that trick worked before. No one would fall for it, besides, it's probably just the tracks of a wild animal.”

“Ha, I bet I would've fooled those Stagatheon dogs,” The soldier said with a laugh. He began walking forward but just as he went to sheath his sword, he stepped on an uneven patch of dirt and heard a muffled grunt in response.

In fact, everyone in the immediate radius had heard it and at that moment, time seem to slow to a silent crawl, their brains hard working to process the significance of that brief noise. Bertrand’s eyes opened widely as he prepared to jump the soldiers as quickly as possible, but he noticed the glint of steel in the treetops above.

The moonlight above seemed to shine perfectly as it illuminated two golden yellow eyes that were narrowed in the dark.

“Enemy-” One soldier began to cry out, but it was cut short with a brief flash of light.

“Huh?!” The second soldier reacted with confusion, watching his friend’s head fall to the ground with a delayed reaction.

Without missing a beat, Valeryn thrust his saber into the throat of the confused soldier.

“Ahk?!” The Khalthurian soldier weakly grabbed at the blade lodged in his throat before going completely limp and falling to the ground.

Valeryn flicked his sword out of pure habit before picking up one of the torches and completely snuffing out the other.

“Get up,” Valeryn whispered. “There are four of you in total, right? One of you put on that uniform and let’s move.”

Valeryn began to remove his clothes before equipping the least bloody uniform. Khalthurian naval armor consisted of mostly leather since it was the preferred material when the possibility of falling into the sea remained ever-present.

“What...? You’re the swordsman from earlier…- How did you escape?!” Bertrand sat up, clearly taken off guard by the sudden turn of events.

“Save your questions and put on the armor. If you draw their attention, I’ll have to kill you too.” Valeryn said so while examining the Khalthurian naval cutlass. He seemed to be satisfied as he stabbed his old saber into the dirt and attached the cutlass to his belt.

“Well, what are you waiting for? If you wish to escape with your life, you should follow along and quickly.” Valeryn suddenly urged Bertrand to hurry.

“I… I’ll trust you, for the moment, swordsman,” Bertrand replied, but he knew he didn’t have much of a choice.

He quickly put on the Khalthurian uniform even though the thought of even pretending to be one of their soldiers made him sick.

“What about us?” One of the naval guards asked in a panic.

“Stay here until we come back with more uniforms,” Valeryn replied before nodding to Bertrand.

“We’ll do as he says… for now,” Bertrand chimed.

Although they were hesitant, the naval guards went along with his words and lowered themselves back into the mud.

“Follow me and stay close,” Valeryn raised the torch up so that it would make it block his face at a certain angle.

He noticed the soldiers seemed familiar with each other so he couldn’t risk being discovered too early. As for Bertrand…

“Pretend to be injured,” Valeryn spoke quietly as they approached three soldiers who were preoccupied with their own search.

“What?” Bertrand furrowed his brow at the strange request.

Valeryn showed a brief look of frustration before he violently drove his fist into the pit of Bertrand’s stomach.

“Haak!” Bertrand felt all the air leave his lungs and would’ve collapsed right there if Valeryn didn’t support him.

“Ah, that's actually very good.” Valeryn showed a look of amazement.

“Huek?!” Strange sounds continuously emerged from Bertrand's mouth as they grew closer to the other Khalthurians.

“Hey! He’s hurt! I think it was a poisonous plant!” Valeryn suddenly began shouting, his voice was distorted with overlapping tones of panic, worry, and grief. It was just enough so that no one would notice that it was stranger speaking, given one of their own was injured.

“Quick! Put him down!” One of the soldiers ordered.

“Huah?!” Bertrand exclaimed as he was abruptly dropped onto the ground.

“Is he bleeding? What’s with all the blood around his shoulders?” The soldiers made a circle around Bertrand, examining his body.

Meanwhile, Bertrand could only watch in horror as gradual looks of realization began to creep onto their faces. The leather helmets both he and Valeryn were wearing didn’t do much to hide their appearance.

Before any of the soldiers could put the pieces together, Valeryn struck. One step closed the distance between him and the soldiers. The second step happened while he drew his sword with incredible speed. His cutlass glided through the air with little resistance just as he finished his third step.

Bertrand watched it all happen with complete astonishment. He felt as if he almost grasped some grand enlightenment for a brief moment, but it all came to a close as Valeryn sheathed his cutlass. Three lifeless bodies fell onto the ground simultaneously, emitting soft thuds as they did so.

Valeryn offered his hand to Bertrand who stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Get up and help me strip them of their uniforms… We’ll dress your friends and then sneak onto the boat.” Valeryn quickly glanced around but looked down with befuddlement as Bertrand remained stationary.

“Did I strike you too hard?” Valeryn cocked his head to the side.

“N-No… I...- We’ll go with your plan.” Bertrand accepted Valeryn’s help and the two began removing the uniforms from the warm corpses.

Escape from the small island was in sight and Bertrand could see himself one step closer to delivering the promised message.