Chapter 1

A whole village massacred under mysterious circumstances.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1:

 

The noise of boots echoed through the alleyways of Outcast as soldiers carried body after body towards the dock. Stacking them high in a mound towards the back before lining up single file until the last man was a mere step away from falling into the lake. The soldiers started carrying the corpses towards the end of the dock and dropping them into the lake. The sound of each splash shot out all through the town, for not a single noise could be heard from anywhere else. The town was dead, every man that lived there was being tossed into the lake. Two men stood overseeing the soldiers as they tossed the bodies. General Meddon and his knight and protection Dosemen. Both men were wearing bright red military uniforms with white tassels hanging from their shoulders. The General’s uniform had two long rows of buttons running down it with multiple badges pinned on his chest on the right hand side. Dosemen however had fewer buttons and fewer medals than the General but on his waist sat a sword that was sheaved. The sword had a basket-net hilt and its scabbard was light green with the design of a whirlwind running up and down it. General Meddon looked toward the dock as another body splashed into the water. He stared on and began to speak to his knight.  

“Three thousand dead Dose,” General Meddon recollected while sighing “Three thousand died fighting against the king in this silly revolution.” “I do not believe the revolutionaries find it so silly sir” Dosemen replied “Though I doubt they believe in much of anything now.”

“Don’t be disrespectful of the dead son, these men might have fought on the wrong side but they gave use a grand battle”

Dosemen played with the hilt of his sword “I don’t know if I believe in grand battles general, and if I did I do not think this was one.”

“Dose I swear you are too high strung for a man only in his twenties, this might be how you rose to the rank of Knight so quickly” said Meddon.

“Sir please call me Dosemen” Dosemen replied.

“See, that is what I mean. Way to serious Dose,” Meddon said as he began walking away from the dock towards the camp they set up outside of town. Their footsteps echoed throughout the empty streets as they walked. Their feet were the only thing that could be heard as they walked past empty buildings. Windows were broken in and walls were ravaged by cannon balls that rained down on them from the earlier battle. The two walked down an alleyway, continuing their conversation.

“My skill is what gained me the rank of Knight not my sternness.” Dosemen looked over the empty buildings as they walked past them. “How many more Revolutionary loyal towns do we have to continue to wipe out before we leave this hollow part of the world?”

Meddon stopped and turned to him taking a minute to think “We have two more towns on this Island then we return to the main continent.” He walked over to a wall and took a hard look over it before placing his hand on it. He ran his hand across the bricks in the wall as some bits of the wall broke off and rolled down to the ground. “We sure did ruin an old town, these brinks are older than most of Candent itself.” Dosemen walks up behind Meddon and stared at the wall with him.

“This town was once extremely loyal to Candent and to the Crown, the revolutionaries were only here for a year and in that time they changed this place to a major hub of their operations.” Dosemen said as he let out a long sigh.

“Sir you know they grow stronger in numbers and in determination, going to one of their hub towns and simply killing every man there is not going to fix this problem.” Meddon turned and looked at him.

“I know son but we have our Orders, we are not to permit any man that sides with the revolution to live. It is clear in the very foundation of Candent that those who betray the kingdom are sentenced to death. That includes revolutionaries.” Meddon continues walking as Dosemen follows. They reach the edge of town and begin walking up a muddy hill to reach a pair of steps that eventually lead to their base camp. The camp was composed mostly of tents and loose boarding to give the men stable footing. Soldiers in battle worn uniforms ran back and forth spreading the excitement of their victory. Several of the soldiers were carrying barrels from Outcast back in to the camp. The barrels were large and one could hear the sound of liquid sloshing about in them as the men walked by. Dosemen raised an eyebrow at the men.

“Sir what are those men doing with those barrels?” he asked Meddon as they walked past them.

“They found a large amount of wine, rum, and several other forms of liquor in town. They are taking them back to camp and holding a celebration tonight,” replied Meddon.

Dosemen folded his arms and stopped, staring at his general

“Celebration, Sir?

“Yes apparently they plan to drink it all tonight around a giant fire,” the General turned around and looked down at Dosemen. “I assume you don’t approve.”

 Dose ran his fingers along his forehead in frustration and walked up to the general

“It makes no difference to me if you celebrate but I will not partake in this foolishness” Dosemen continued walking past the general towards his tent at the top of the hill. Meddon followed and stopped him right before they reached the entrance.

“Son the men will do well to see the right hand of the general celebrate with them, it will boost their spirits,” Dosemen continued to walk into the tent as Meddon followed. The inside of Meddon’s tent was clearly above that of the ones the soldiers stayed in. A bed with hand crated wooden framing and poles sat in the middle of the tent. Also in the room off to the side was a top with a map spread out across it. On the map multiple places were marked with assignments of troops and the movements of the revolutionaries. Next to the table set a wardrobe that house the generals clothing. The most noticeable aspect of the tent was a large painting of the King of Candent sitting in the middle of the tent. The King stood with one hand a chair next to him and the other moving out toward the viewer. He was cloaked in mostly golden robs with red highlights. His crown sat on his head with twenty points sticking towards the heavens. His eyes were piercing and his expression haunting. The painting showed more than just confidence in the king’s face. It showed the unshakable conviction that he and only he was meant to rule Candent.

Dosemen turned to Meddon once inside the tent and scolded him.

“I am here for two reason, first to keep you alive so you can continue this war and second to make sure you win each battle. The spirits of the men matters very little to me as long as they continue to win, I am here to do what you cannot and that is to remain focused on the goal.” Meddon signed as he walked over to the table and began looking over the map.

“Dose have you been in a long standing military campaign before” Doesmen stared at the general and then proceeded to shake his head back and forth. Meddon lead forward on the table looking down at the large map of Candent. The map had a large continent with lines of islands tapering off from it. This gave the continent the look of a hand reaching out over the ocean. Meddon looked up at Dosemen after staring at the map for an extended period of time.

“Fighting for so long, seeing so much death, it wares on the soul and moral of the men Dose. Rivalry after a victory is necessary, I say we partake in these good times”

Dosemen groaning at the thought and sat in a free chair “Sir you may partake but I feel I will remain in my tent tonight, drunken idiots do not entertain me”

Meddon stepped forward and placed his hand on Dosemen’s shoulder.

“You will grow older then I am in half the time with that kind of spirit. This is a time for joy! More revolutionaries have fallen today!” Dosemen looked at the general.

“What happened to respecting the dead?” Dosemen asked with an eyebrow raised

“I respect the men not the silly cause they fight for. We are men of the King after all! How can one expect to stand against the man that is one with God himself” Meddon slammed his hand on the painting of the king as he laughed harshly.

“The very embodiment of our kingdom, our very souls rest in this man my boy. One day if you are luck you will be able to able to lick a pebble his boot has so kindly graced but as for today all we can do is slaughter those who are foolish enough to stand against him!” Meddon took in a deep breath.

“This is our king and God in one glorious union my boy! And I will be the sword he uses to end this revolution!” Dosemen smiled and stood.

 “His sword you say? I didn’t know they made swords as round as you.” Dosemen patted the Generals belly as it poked out from his uniform.

“Ha! So you there is a comic in there somewhere. Dosemen my boy I believe there is hope for you yet.” Dosemen started walking out of the tent.

“I am going to bed enjoy this celebration for being the sword of the King” Meddon snapped his fingers.

“That is a grand name for tonight! The Celebration of the Sword!” he said as he rushed out to the men. Dosemen walked off towards his tent and looked back at the general address the men “Men! Tonight we celebrate being the sword of our great king! Drink until your hearts are full with rum and merriment! Tonight we look upon the end of the revolution and the never ending glory of our king! Tonight is the celebration of sword!” The crowd cheered as the general drunk his mug dry and Dosemen walked into his tent. Dosemen’s tent was a dark green and contained nothing as extravagate as Meddon’s tent. On the ground sat a bed roll and a cloth lieing over it. Off to the side of the tent a mirror and bowl stood atop a small table, in the bowl milky water and a bar of soup. The only other thing in the tent was an area to hang his uniform Meddon’s.

“Idiot, our reports told us that there were supposed to be ten thousand men here not a mere three hundred,” Dosemen started taking off his uniform and laid on his bedroll looking into the darkness cloaking the roof of the tent “The revolutionaries have long left this place” He fells slowly to sleep as the sound of the celebration outside the tent grows louder.

Men gather around a giant fire drinking their stomachs full of alcohol, they exchange stories of how battle scares were obtained and the women they left behind in their respected villages. They danced, raved, and howl as if they were beasts until the very late hours of the night. Only a few men remained exchanging stories along the expiring embers of the fire. The general sat with them watching their back and forth with amusement.

“Do you lot know any stories of pirates?” Said one soldier with a scare across his face “You know like the infamous ones”

One of the soldiers laughed and stood up “Rick this age is full of pirates which ones do you mean by infamous?”

“Saul you know like the ones that attack giant ships and have stolen from well-established banks and the what not” Rick walked next to Saul and let out a hardy laugh “Pirates can steal all they want but I think that hardly makes them infamous”

Rick unsheathe his long slender sword and began swinging it madly as he was clearly drunk “Swordsmanship like this is what makes a man truly infamous, nay even legendary!”

The men dodged the wild swinging of the sword as General Meddon laughed at the spectacle. Rick slammed his sword onto the ground and yelled “This is what it means to be a legend! Not being some pirate scum am I not right my general!” General Meddon stood stumbling slightly and acknowledge his statement “In whole heart I agree soldier! Pirates are lower than these revolutionaries! They not only steal from our companies doing the kings loyal work! They steal from the king himself! Sod the pirates none of them are worth mentioning!”

The men exploded in cheers for the short speech, clapping could be heard from all around as the general took another glass full of rum. As he drunk a voice broke through the clapping and shook all the men to their cores. A loud and deep “NAY” came from behind the trees overlooking the fire were they sat. The men looked on in shock wondering what kind of man that voice could belong to when an old man stepped forth. He walked with a cane and had wrinkles expanding from the top of his head down his face. He wore a dark cloak with a hood that he was not wearing. His hair was long and white but only few strands remained of it as his balled head was clear to see. His eyes felt piercing to your core and made it impossible for you to move while staring in them. His walk was weak but full of conviction. The old man looked as if he was offended to his very being by the statement from the men.

“I say nay to slander of the pirates!” the old man said as he walked towards the fire and stood before the men “There are indeed legends among them, you lot are simply ignorant!”

General Meddon look on the man and smirked “Well why don’t you enlighten us on these great and legendary pirates! For we know of none”

The old man looked deeply at Meddon “You know of none because you do not know what a legend truly is. Legends are not simply born and endowed with being great, they have to gain greatness through trials and accomplishment. They are forged by the world they exist in and become masters of it with the experience they gain. Do not mistake your weak heroes with the true embodiment of a legend. Pirates are molded by their adventures and hardened by their tribulations do not confuse them with the weakness of your king.”

The old man sat down as the soldiers start to stand and raise their swords and rifles at his comment about the king but Meddon raised his hand to hold them. “Sir you speak ill of our king and only praise for pirates. Tell us why.”

The old man looked Meddon in the eyes again making him feel as if he couldn’t break the stare no matter how hard he tried. The old man licked his dry and cracked lips “I will tell you of a man that has transcended what it means to be free in this world. He will raise above all pirates and even impacted all the lives of this world. Your king sees himself a God among men but this man is the one that will rise above the heavens.” The men jerk at this comment but Meddon raises his hand again to hold them. The man struggles but stands to his feet and looks over the soldiers and states. “This is the legend of Wade Hawkins….”