Author's Notes: SURPRISE! How about that turnaround? Admittedly, the editing on this one may be awful. I wrote most of it while offline and using Google Docs, which leads to bad experiences all around. Apologies in advance for any spelling mistakes or whatnot.
So glad people liked the past two chapters. They were clearly a departure from the norm, but we are back on track with the Reaper and the Black Dogs.

Reviewers:

ManwithaPlan113 - I almost put her bit in a separate chapter, but felt the burning urge to squeeze her in. Fortunately, that changed the intended scene from a long extended bit to this, which I think was for the better. Luu-Luu is certainly going to be an expressive character. Almost a bit like a certain other short woman from Louk's past. But much nicer. MUCH nicer.
Victorules - I understood the first reference, a wee bit. Unfortunately my anime experience is fairly limited compared to most people I know due to only being a closet weeb. Glad you're loving it.
Dark Queen Origa - I am still a little conflicted on how I want to portray the Prim/Alicia relationship here. On the one hand, I feel like the 'original' relationship could be great to write sans-Prim going down a dark path, but on the other hand I have some fun ideas for having them separate. More than likely they are going to remain very close, but Prim will choose to let her go for her own happiness. As for Claudia. I can promise that no one is going to have a perfectly happy time, and Claudia unfortunately is the last one standing as far as horrible fates, so she may be in a touch of trouble this time around.
Guest - Exactly.
Disciple of Ember - Luu-Luu is definitely the show stealer of the chapter. I had so much fun picturing that in my head as I wrote the scene. Pulling away from Louk was a refreshing change of pace for me, and I hope that going forwards I can properly balance fleshing out all the other characters, especially the relationships between the Shields (pun intended). Maia seemed the most casually familiar with sex in the 'original' story, so I figured I should pursue a bit of that angle and have her be much more kosher in her view of the world and its delights. Heehee.
SomeGuyOverHere - The visions are intentionally fairly vague. I hoped most people would get the Bleach reference, though I was not able to figure out how to make it more identifiable to one of Ichigo's 'training' events. Initially I was going to go down the route of the whole Hollow thing, but found it too awkward to do. As for Maia's vision, I can't give that one away yet, but the characters are from a mobile game. That whole bit will be pretty badass once they 'arrive.' I intentionally am keeping away from Bloodborne because StaffSergeant's story(ies) is fantastic and I don't want to bump up against their story, but it is a pretty awesome world. Overlord the light novel series is hands-off for this story due to the reason you mentioned above, but I definitely am planning out Overlord the game. Might even have to find a way to sneak in the Minions. Can you imagine a bunch of little browns running up to Louk with pumpkins for helmet while shrieking "For the Overlord!"

Song of the Day: Why Did You Leave Me Alone Now, Fearless Motivation

Garan

The wastelands had gone cold.

Pale light shone down on them from between wispy cloud banks, painting the dreary and miserable landscape in a sepia wash of muted colors. The heat of the sun, something that had left them sweating under its merciless gaze only days ago, had vanished, replaced by the chilling cold of a land robbed of its warmth, its life. The phenomenon defied mortal explanation, and that was because it came from no mortal cause.

The land of Garan had changed. After the destruction of the Greenwyrd and the disturbance outside the Black Fortress, everything had changed. It was not just the unseasonable chill, or the strange sapping of color from the world. No, they could taste it in the cloying sweetness of the air, see it in the shadows lurking about their camp at night. It hounded them, remaining just out of reach, always ready to pounce. For the exhausted survivors it was relentless, a weight on their backs that never lessened.

They called it the Maddening, for lack of a better term. Ten thousand souls lost in the insanity that ravaged their camp, plunged their battle line into chaos and tore the heart from the Black Dogs army. Their supply train lost, their best and brightest consumed. Less than four thousand of the original force were making the march back; most of their reinforcements had been camped within the boundaries of the Maddening.

Four thousand gathered in a ragged band, retreating like the defeated after a vicious battle. Their column stretched too long, slowed by the sick and wounded, vulnerable to ambushes and nipping packs of demons out for blood and sport. Bereft of their supplies, they suffered in stubborn silence. Even days afterward, they were overwhelmed with shock and loss. Several companies were without commanders, and many others were too savaged by the battle and the Maddening to form coherent formations for the defense of the column. Polso's lancers and what cavalry he could scrounge together were too valuable to leave on patrol; their horses were more susceptible to thirst than men and so they were given the lightest duties possible.

Here and there they encountered reinforcing companies trickling in from the border, chasing the trail of the once-proud army. Inevitably those meetings progressed from cheers to stunned silence, to questioning gazes and muttered words, and then finally to the dawning realization of what had driven the proud Vult into a melancholic despair.

It was impossible to claim that Vult was unchanged by what he had seen. The Mercenary General was broken. To have lost so many of his men, to see his army shattered on the whims of a sorcery that defied explanation, it tore his soul to pieces and left him a silent, brooding figure. The soldiers on watch at night saw him walking the perimeter, a wraith in disappearing into the darkness. He rarely spoke, save to offer short commands in a biting tone. In lieu of his commanding presence, the surviving chain of command took over the column and directed it as best they could.

Without the charismatic Vult to hold them together, though, it began to fracture. Fights broke out between different companies as they scrambled for supplies. The newcomers butted heads with the survivors of the battle as claims of cowardice arose. It was only a few days' march to the border, but the column began to disintegrate before it even reached halfway.

The state of the column hardly mattered to Louk. His chief concern- no, his only concern, were the three women riding alongside him. No, the four women. His gaze swept over the young and fiery Chloe, striding confidently alongside her mistress with a contemptuous sneer on her lips as she returned the glowering stares of the surrounding mercenaries. Olga's presence in the column had caused an outcry from the beginning. Many blamed the Maddening on her witchery, and minds were too heated to accept another answer. Only a precious few had seen the truth inside the castle. Other than Vult, those eyewitnesses were not Black Dogs and would not be trusted. Not like Vult was, at least. But Vult had fallen silent on the matter and showed no interest in correcting his men's rage.

In turn, this had led to ever-increasing hostility against the dark elves, who did themselves no favors with their haughty attitudes and arrogant bearing. Olga Discordia carried herself as a queen among peasants. Though it was the truth of the situation, Louk found it irritating how she showed such visible disdain and contempt for them. That was how she had been.

He had to remind himself of that. This was not his Olga. This was a different Olga, a different world. The conflicted emotions that surged inside him when his gaze met hers were… difficult… to process. He wanted nothing more than to hear his name on her lips, see that precious smile she reserved for only her most trusted companions.

The looming shadow of his daughters dispelled such fanciful memories easily enough. The heated anger of Arahan and the cold curiosity of Naestra pressed against him, disturbing any semblance of peace he might have as they badgered him with subtle conversation in the silent language of their battle cant.

More disturbing was the lack of communication with Olga. The dark elf queen seemed content to remain silent during their lackluster return to civilization. She had no interest in speaking with him, and returned his attempts to converse with that mask of practiced disinterest that taunted him in a way she could not understand.

The mercenary captain Polso had stepped out of the column ahead and stood waiting for them, resting his horse as it searched fruitlessly for wild grass. A meaningful look warned that the man had something of importance to say. Louk excused himself and eased through the marching Black Dogs to meet with the captain of the lancers.

It was Polso's quick reactions and unspeakable premonition that allowed even this many of the mercenaries to make it out alive. Fully a thousand of the survivors were here because Polso had persuaded their captains to camp further away from the fortress. Those men understood that he had saved their lives and formed a core around Polso, making him the defacto leader of the column in Vult's absence. The only ones who might have challenged him, Kin and Hicks, had not escaped the Maddening.

"She still rides like a queen," Polso observed, nodding wearily at the dark elf sorceress.

"That she does," Louk agreed. He did not offer defense or criticism, but merely acknowledged the man's dissatisfaction.

"She could at least show a bit of remorse for how many of us lost our damn lives for her."

Louk held his tongue. He could tell Polso things, things he knew about Olga from the other Eostia. It would not help anyone to compare degrees of loss.

"Is that the mountains I see?" He changed the topic so that the rancor in Polso's heart would not spread to those in hearing range. "Eostia is close."

"Yes, but we have company between us and there." The mercenary grimaced. "The last company to meet up reported a force of demons moving towards the border as they passed. Strangely, they did not turn to pursue. We think they may have camped in the ruins there, if they have not already moved on to harass the border fort."

"You need a scouting party?"

"That is the plan. The column will stop there, just before the ruins. Rheco's company will move into the ruins to clear it out. I want your assistance."

"Clearing the ruins?"

"And securing the bridge. We need it held so that the column can pass."

"Hunting orcs in the ruins at night. Sounds like a tall order."

"Vult requested it himself."

"Did he now?" Louk eyed the man. As far as he knew, Vult had been largely uncommunicative with his men. Polso and the other captains were running the show. Had he finally snapped out of his funk?

"He did." Captain Polso motioned towards Louk's entourage. "Those women, you still haven't told me who they are. But they are fighters, yes?"

"They are," Louk confirmed.

"Would you mind lending them to the effort?"

"They are Olga Discordia's bodyguard at the moment. I cannot have them part from her side."

"You think the Dark Queen's life is in danger? From what?"

"From every man and woman in sight. Don't bother trying to deny it, Polso. Half of them want her dead in a misguided need for revenge."

"...I believe you."

"No, you don't." Louk turned back into the column. "I will help you hunt the orcs in the ruins, Polso. But I am not risking her life to do it. The Goddess Reborn demands her returned alive and unharmed. I would remind your men of that."

-v-

Chloe glared at the mercenaries clustered outside the tent. They had loitered about, speaking in furtive whispers and shooting pointed glares at her mistress and the wretched hovel they found themselves in. Her indignation at the poor treatment afforded to Lady Olga was immeasurable, but she knew to hold her tongue. The dark one had said that, insisted on it. These were vermin surrounding them. Vermin that did not understand how they owed their miserable existences to her benign mercy.

Satisfying herself with a silent scowl, Chloe pulled down the flap of the tent and shut out the world outside. The heavy fabric was suffocating to her, prickled her skin with an inexplicable dread, but she forced that down and concentrated on the only thing that mattered. Lady Olga sat in the center of the tent, resting on a battered rug. On either side, the enigmatic twins known as Naestra and Aarahan contented themselves in silent meditation. The tent was quiet, drained of the tension she felt coursing through her veins. As if every other person present was above their current predicament.

She wished she had a fraction of her mistress's poise.

Since leaving the Black Fortress in ignoble retreat, Chloe had kept close by her side, becoming Lady Olga's very shadow in this uncertain and miserable trek. Protecting her from the festering anger of the rabble that surrounded them, tending to her needs as best she could. Her resources were scarce, entirely inadequate for the dignity of her mistress. But she would not complain. To complain would be to show weakness, and the vermin would pounce on any show of that. Already she had counted numerous brushes of pathetic killing intent drawn up towards them. Her knives would see blood before this journey ended, she was sure of it. It had been too long since she drew the blood of anything but demons.

"Lady Olga," Chloe bowed deeply, dropping to her knees with her fist pressed over her heart. "I regret that there is no wine to accompany this poor meal."

"Sit, Chloe." Her mistress beckoned with a small gesture, hardly moving in a dazzling show of grace. "Water is enough."

Hurrying to sit, Chloe eased her scabbards to the side and settled cross-legged on the edge of the rug. Their meal tonight was… poor was an understatement. It was offensive: strips of salted beef and crackers. Even the most meager meal in the Black Fortress was a feat compared to this. Chloe herself had no issue with the food; she had regularly eaten worse while on duties for her mistress and prided herself in her restraint. But to have her mistress suffer through day after day of this!

The strange women that emerged from the Greenwyrd opened their eyes, blinking in perfect synchronicity. They did not wake from their meditation with a slight shudder or a soft whisper. Instead they merely resumed movement, as if their meditation had simply been a pause in a fluid interaction.

"The night will be filled with blood," one murmured. Her voice was exotic and rich, an enchanting sound that tickled Chloe's ears with sensations she could not quite place. There was a depth to their voices, something beyond what she could understand. When they spoke, it was not just words being conveyed. Almost as if they were projecting intent and emotion that they refused to show themselves.

She liked listening to their voices. Haunting and beautiful, they made for acceptable companions for her mistress. Their motives gave cause for concern; Chloe did not understand who they were or what drive them, and that made them dangerous. Even though they had fought together to escape the Black Fortress, it was only after Lady Olga commanded her to treat them as allies that Chloe truly allowed herself to relax in their presence.

Though, that startling premonition sent shocks of alarm and anticipation through her veins.

"Blood? Whose blood?" Her demands were met with a lazy stare, catlike in its casual dismissal of her fears.

"The blood of elves, men, and swine." The other of the twins added an altogether unhelpful addendum to the prophecy. "I would eat, if I were you. It will be a long night."

They picked at the pieces of their food, exchanging jerky and crackers. The one never ate meat, Chloe noticed. Despite their startling similarities, there were ways to tell them apart by personality, if not just their hair. The white-haired one, Arahan, carried herself with a distinct air of malice. She had angry eyes, or so Chloe told herself, whereas the black-haired one had kind and dignified airs. Both were ruthless in battle, but Arahan threw herself in with wild abandon while Naestra fought with cold composure and precision.

They were two sides of one coin. Equal and opposite. As if a single soul had been split in half.

Chloe ate her meal in silence. They all ate in silence. Keeping her eyes carefully on her mistress, she nibbled on the crackers and chewed on the jerky. Tepid water that was at least purified helped ease the meal down her throat, but even that had to be nursed, for there was not much water to be had. Lady Olga voiced no complaints at the meal. She never complained. She was too good for that. That she could not offer more for her mistress plagued Chloe with guilt.

Boots crunched outside the tent, alerting Chloe to the arrival of a visitor. Her hackles rose, and all thoughts of food were banished by the scrape of fingers against the tent fabric.

"Lady Olga."

It was the dark one. The harbinger of the great evil that had assailed her mistress. Chloe's face twisted in a scowl she could not restrain.

"Let him in, Chloe."

Ever benevolent, ever kind and merciful, her mistress still allowed that wretched thing in her presence. She endured his disconcerting aura, the violence that cloaked about his heels, and the lustful stares he subjected her to when he thought no one was looking. Chloe's gut churned with the desire to protect her mistress from this man. She only understood a little of what she had seen in the Black Fortress, but she knew enough to make assessments.

The man had appeared with that creature wearing her beautiful mistress' skin.

The twins accused the man of being at fault for this whole ordeal.

He was the source of her mistress's pain. That made him an enemy, and she would gladly end him if only Lady Olga gave the command.

Chloe pulled back the tent fabric and found him standing a few steps back. At least he had the manners to not huddle up on the tent like an oaf. Still, that hawkish stare of his set her skin crawling, and she hurriedly stepped aside and ushered him in. The mercenaries that had loitered about were nowhere to be seen. They must have gone on about their business.

"Enter."

"Thank you, Chloe." The man tipped his head in mockery of respect as he shuffled inside. Offering a more respectful bow to Lady Olga, he greeted her with a level tone and remained standing in the corner.

"Will you sit?" Her mistress indicated the space where Chloe had been sitting only a moment ago. Chloe had already finished her meal, and thought nothing of resuming her actual job of patrolling the tent for signs of danger. Besides, she could stand behind the man, ready to slit his throat should he threaten her mistress.

"Thank you, but I will be heading out soon. A warband may have set up shop in the ruins ahead and they requested I join them in the eviction process." His lips curved in a grin as he spoke, but his tone conveyed a wolfish hunger, an animal straining at the leash. Yet, there was also hesitation there. Minor and unassuming, hiding in the shadow of his battle-lust. "They requested I bring my daughters along. I told them that they will be at your side."

"That is generous. Your daughters are pleasant companions, and able guardians."

Lady Olga's words were kind. In truth, the twins hardly spoke, and when they did it was with a subtle disdain of those around them, the arrogance of beings who thought themselves superior to their companions.

"Naestra, Arahan, I apologize but I must ask you to remain at Olga's side for the near future. The mood in the column is deteriorating and I do not want to risk her safety."

"We expected as much," Naestra whispered, her voice so fragile and soft yet instilled with iron.

"Indeed, this is hardly the first time you have relegated us to guarding your-"

"Arahan!" The black-haired twin glared at her sister. Glare was an exaggeration. Her brows pinched ever so slightly. It was terribly expressive for the taciturn woman.

He ignored that little outburst, attention resting on her mistress. Chloe felt heat rising on the back of her neck at his shameless attitude. Her fingers clenched around the hilt of her daggers.

"You will be safe here. Between my daughters and Chloe I would wager you are as safe as in your own fortress."

"My fortress that lies in ruins," Lady Olga countered.

"... you know what I meant."

"And if I request to accompany you on this 'eviction' operation, what would you say?"

"Lady Olga," Chloe gasped in astonishment. "You can't possib-"

"There's no way in hell I am letting you into danger like that," the man insisted, a frown crossing his face. He interrupted her, but since he was arguing alongside her Chloe let that slide. It chafed her to admit it, but if Olga insisted on doing something, Chloe could not refuse her, even if she knew it was a terrible idea. This had all the makings of a terrible idea. Yet that was her mistress to the core. Poised, elegant, in control, but not above causing mischief or going out on an adventure.

"Ah, because it is less dangerous here, surrounded by thousands of mercenaries that desire my death." Her mistress allowed the faintest of smiles to pull at the corner of her mouth. She rarely showed anything but that cold mask to outsiders. Even allowing a hint of a smile was an unexpected move on her part.

"You have protectors here."

"And I would have those protectors with me there. Surely they would not stay behind if I were to accompany you."

"I am not allowing you to go."

Despite agreeing with the man, Chloe bristled at his disrespectful tone.

"I am not yours to command."

"No, but you are mine to keep alive. I am not going back to Celeste with your corpse because you wanted to stretch your damn legs."

"You will watch your tongue," Chloe snarled. She could not help but step forward at that. One dagger slid from its sheath, but she halted abruptly, a cold chill shooting across her body as the tip of a shimmering blade pressed under her chin.

"And you will watch your dagger," Naestra informed her. The mysterious woman had drawn her sword from an extremely disadvantageous position with such speed that Chloe had not even registered the movement. "Put it away, child. Father, your temper."

Her hand trembled as she put the dagger away. Staggering back a pace, Chloe sucked in a deep breath and gazed down at the perfectly calm and unbothered face of the woman. To say her speed was unnatural would not do it justice. It was… as if physics did not apply. Chloe had a rudimentary grasp of the laws of nature where they related to speed and force. Such things were necessary for the work she conducted. There was a time she was foolish enough to think her speed unparalleled. That had been proven wrong a long time ago, but she still took pride in her ability to at least follow the speed of those more powerful than her.

The gap in their ability was too great for her to fathom. Had they been enemies, Chloe fully understood that the odds of protecting her mistress from these twins was pitifully low.

While she pondered just what that little display meant for her future as Lady Olga's personal bodyguard, the man took a step back and lowered his shoulders. He too paused for a breather, and collected his thoughts before speaking again.

"I will not lose you, Olga."

Lady Olga squinted at him, sharpening her gaze in indignation at his words. Rather than respond, however, she took a sip from her cup and looked first at the white-haired woman, then the black-haired one. Her gaze carried unspoken questions. When she settled her haunting amber eyes on the man he stiffened, prodded by an invisible urge.

"What was she to you, Louk Shannegh?"

The implication of her question cast an uncomfortable silence through the tent. Keenly aware of the complexity of the situation, Chloe held her breath and studied his response. Muscles tensing on his neck, fingers tightening and untightening. Eyes dancing this way and that, not settling on any one point for long. Squirming, uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

It amazed her how her mistress could lay such a dangerous man bare with such ease.

"Was I your lover?"

Amazingly, Lady Olga did not show disgust at the thought. She showed nothing, keeping her thoughts hidden behind her practiced indifference. The thought of consorting with such a rough and vulgar man must have rankled her sensibilities to the extreme. It was unthinkable, inexcusable!

The gazes of the twins on him were equally impassive, but charged with an energy that made Chloe shiver with fear. She did not understand it. It was as if the collar had been released from an extremely dangerous animal, and she was standing next to its food. Her battle instincts screamed at her to flee, to put distance between herself and the man caught squirming under the attention of these three incredibly powerful women.

He finally went still, and set his gaze on Olga with a clenched jaw. Apprehension bled through his voice in the simple, short answer he gave her.

"Yes."

Chloe felt her stomach plunge, swooping away like a rock dropped from a mountainside. She staggered, gasping for breath, overcome with dizziness at the absurdity of what he claimed. Lady Olga, a lover to this… this bastard!

"I see." Her mistress blinked lazily, not showing her own horror and dismay at the accusation.

"You aren't that Olga," he grunted.

"No, I am not." She stood up, rising slowly and fetching her staff. A fierce look crossed her face, a cold and haughty grimace she wore in times of war. "Whatever there was between this other Olga and yourself, it has nothing to do with me. You would do well to remember that. Now then, let us be off. I know the city that was, and have walked among the ruins several times these last decades. You would do well to have me at your side."

"And if the orcs are there?"

"Then I will either command them to perish on your swords, proving that I am still in control of those animals, or they will ignore me, proving to the Black Dogs that I am no longer the enemy they feared for so many years."

"It is too dangerous," he protested. Yet he made no move to stop her.

"I lived a hundred years surrounded by death and destruction just waiting around the corner. This paltry expedition is nothing."

-v-

Outwardly, Louk remained calm. As calm as could be expected, considering the one woman whose life he could not afford to risk was calmly strolling ahead of him, her head held high and her staff on full display. Considering fifty sullen mercenaries were marching behind him, their venomous glares crawling across her unguarded back. Considering they were walking into a potential trap.

Considering this whole situation was fecking bullshit.

Naestra and Arahan were at his side, ostensibly forming a loose defensive line between Olga and the mercenaries. Rheco and his men trudged along behind them, half clutching swords and shields, the others holding bows. There were no walls for them to clamber over, no ruined gate to pass through. The dark elf lands had been peaceful, before the Legion came and ravaged the land. There had been no need for walls; the mountains protected them from armies.

On their earlier trek through the ruins Louk noted the points of interest, potential ambush locations and how to defend a company should he need to. That was from the opposite direction, however. Advancing past the outlying husks of clay houses presented an entirely new landscape, a reversed battlefield with hundreds of new corners and sight lines. His skin tingled at the prospect of battle amidst the ruins.

Keeping Olga protected while battling the fiends would be a chore. He could do it, in all likelihood. But it would be overly taxing. This Olga did not appear as weak as the one he knew, but he had no idea if that was a facade or not. She could be bluffing her power; Olga had done enough of that and shown expertise in the lie.

With his daughters on hand he had confidence he could guard her from a single frontage of battle. But if any of the mercenaries turned on her, it would be too easy to miss the warning signs.

"Hostiles," Arahan warned. Her voice had that impossibly smooth tension to it, a giddy thirst for battle that hid behind her peerless composure. "Many."

"Just orcs?"

"No."

Louk trusted her senses. His daughters had inherited just about everything from their mother, and their awareness was on par with his own, though of a different kind. In truth, he could hear the blood flowing in the veins of scores of bodies lurking deep within the ruins. It was maddening to listen to, so he actively drowned out that noise more often than not. When he sharpened his attention, selectively focusing on the smells and sounds ahead, he picked out the distinct beat of hearts.

Interestingly, Olga's heart was thumping rapidly, far too quickly for the calm mood she projected.

"Be on your guard," he ordered, warning Rheco and his men. With a short wave of his hand, he indicated the locations where he detected their observers. The mercenaries turned to face, presenting a hedge of steel as they advanced deeper into the ruins.

The town had been built into the face of a ravine. Both faces, actually. Utilizing the natural geography to their advantage, they created a clever honeycomb of hollowed out caves to house themselves, while the industry of the town was built at the foot of the mountains and above ground. Ingenious of them, but unfortunately that meant there were plenty of pathways they would have to watch out for as they navigated along the ravine.

"What's the plan," Rheco asked.

The mercenary captain and his men had missed the battle outside the Black Fortress by hours. Their shame at having been absent translated into an eagerness to shed blood that had them chomping at the bit.

"Secure the bridge, then exterminate everything moving backwards. Drive them out of the mountains and into the plains where the rest of the column can wipe them out."

"Works for me." He started issuing orders to his men. "By section, I want five patrols. Maneuver towards the bridge and establish a defensive line. We'll chase them out like rats."

As the sections shuffled off, aiming for a different path each, he pulled his leaders aside and whispered instructions to them. Louk did not bother listening in, though he did notice the tension in his daughters as their hyper-sensitive ears no doubt picked up the conversation.

"Anything we need to worry about?"

They did not answer. The twins exchanged a sidelong stare, then drew their swords. They did not activate the power fields on their swords, but left them silent and dark as they slipped off into the shadows. Louk let them go, and trusted that they would not venture too far off.

He increased his speed and joined Olga. The dark elf sorceress inclined her head in greeting at his arrival, her amber eyes glittering in the soft moonlight. On her other side, Chloe brought herself abreast of her mistress, pointedly walking just a little closer to her than Louk.

"We are not alone," she warned him. "Dark things dwell ahead."

"Orcs," he agreed.

"Not just orcs."

His nostrils flared as he took a deep sniff of the air. That cloying sickness that had hounded them since the Black Fortress was stronger here. His grip tightened on Durendal, but he resisted the urge to draw the blade.

Side-by-side, the trio strolled down the main road that bisected the ancient town. The dusty shells of workshops, stores and hovels closed in around them, bathing them in a deep and musky sea of darkness. His eyes roamed ceaselessly, inspecting corners and scouring the shadows for threats. In the distance he could sense the prowling movements of his daughters. They stalked through the unfamiliar town as if it was their home. Heartbeats flared in their wake, then stilled as they were left behind. The silent huntresses wove a meandering pattern of murder, seemingly without direction. If he could see it from a bird's eye, Louk was certain they were carving a circle of death.

No one stepped out to meet them. Not a single orc rushed out, or an imp bellowed its reedy war cry. Their advance was left unchallenged, uncontested. That more than anything grated at Louk's nerves. He could feel the tension in little Chloe, see her straining under the pressure of knowing there were foes just out of reach.

It took them only fifteen minutes to reach the bridge, by his estimation. Fifteen minutes of walking at a brisk pace. The others would be much slower, lagging behind for every encounter with the orcs.

The bridge was a simple construction, sturdy and undamaged by long centuries of use. The weathered stones had been smoothed flat, and the supports creaked and groaned in the dry wind whistling through the mountains, but it would hold. It had held, and would do so again without sabotage interfering. Spanning a ten meter gap, the narrowest point of the ravine, it was the only viable crossing for wagons and horses for a fair distance. If the bridge was not secured they would have to backtrack and aim for Ansur, which was several days away just to the crossing point. The column would be out of food and water by then. Being trapped in Garan would spell disaster for the army.

His pulse rose just a little at the sight of the bridge. A wall of orcs stood blocking the opposite side. Their large, bulky bodies made them seem far more imposing than they truly were. He could cut his way through them with little difficulty.

"Well hello, uglies." Louk lifted a hand to slow Olga's approach. The orcs stood in silent ranks, watching and waiting. That was unusual for them. Aberrant behavior meant aberrant control. Motioning for Olga to remain behind, he advanced on his own.

He stepped onto the bridge, testing its firmness.

The orcs made no move towards him.

"Can we get this over with?" Louk gave Durendal a practice swing to clear out the stiffness in his shoulders. He felt the cramping pain of tension shooting along his nerves. Once they were back in Eostia he would have to find some quiet moment to relax. The question was, how?

Again, the orcs made no move to attack. They all stared at him in silence, weapons held at the ready.

"Alright then." He breathed in deeply and placed his feet for a lunge. It would be best to go straight into them, then drive them away from the bridge so there were less bodies to clear. If he moved along the right, near the edge of the ravine, he could possibly toss a few of them over the side without much trouble.

The orcs began to shuffle, parting before him as he took his first lunging steps. Startled by the unexpected maneuver, Louk skidded to a halt and brought Durendal up in a defensive position. His eyes flicked left, right, seeking out an unseen threat.

A tall and imposing figure stepped out from behind the orcs. Though nearly half a head shorter than the towering monsters, he nonetheless cut a more deadly figure than any half-dressed, club-wielding orc. The massive hunk of iron slung across his back alone had the deadly force of an entire battalion of Eostia's demons.

"Vult." Louk took a step backwards, instinctively putting space between them. "What the hell are you doing?"

"That… thing." Vult was staring at the ground just before Louk's feet. His features were set determinedly, but uncertainty flickered in his eyes. He had a… no, Vult appeared broken, lost. A child separated from his parents. That did not make him any less dangerous. "It came to our world because of you."

"In a manner of speaking." Louk nodded. There was no sense denying it. "I was killing it in my world and it fled. Landing here was… unintentional."

"It wants you. It is hunting you." Something halfway between a sigh and a sob bubbled up in Vult's mouth. He drew his huge sword slowly, halfheartedly. All the while gazing at the stones. "And it massacred my men to get you."

Louk sensed figures stirring in the ruins behind them. Arahan and Naestra prowled out of the darkness, their weapons pristine as if they had just been forged. Mercenaries taking position along the buildings.

"That creature may be my foe, but it will not be content with just my life," Louk warned. "It is a destroyer of worlds."

"Our world," Vult muttered. His eyes came up then, and a righteous anger flashed in his brown orbs. "My world. You brought that monster into my world."

"And we need to work together to kill it," Louk pressed. He did not lower Durendal. A creeping unease danced across his skin, tightening and prickling with the onset of battle. Red hunger began to seep into his thoughts, stain his vision a bloody crimson.

"We can't kill it. You saw- you saw how it survived. How it was burnt, shot, its body destroyed. That voice in the air… it is a spirit. How can you kill a spirit?"

"I can," Louk insisted. "But I need your-"

"My army?" Vult took an aggressive step forward. His greatsword swept up, aimed at Louk like a rifle. "They're lying on the plains outside the Black Fortress. Remember that, Reaper? Remember how they were butchered and slaughtered like… like animals!"

"You won't be able to avenge them if we fight among ourselves. I don't want to kill you, Vult."

"Kill me?" Vult laughed. It was not a good sound, but the guttural cry of a man pushed past sanity and understanding. "No, I am going to defeat it. We cannot kill it, we cannot beat it in battle. But I will feed it. I will give it what it wants. Your death will satisfy it, make it leave us alone."

"You can't possibly believe that, Vult. Did the demons leave your world alone after pillaging Garan? And you expect that this daemon, this actual hellfiend, would leave Eostia alone just for a single soul."

"Damn you, Reaper. You cost me so many good men. I cannot let you get away with that. I will not let you or that bitch live while my best men rot away!"

Vult lunged forwards, his massive iron blade slicing through the air. Louk parried it, striking Durendal against the blade with all his strength. They were equally matched in strength, but Vult had the advantage of momentum and weight. The impact of their blades generated enough force that both men staggered backwards, unbalanced by the exchange.

Bows twanged behind him. Louk dropped into a roll, throwing himself out of the way so as to not get caught in friendly fire. Iron-tipped arrows skipped off the stones all around him. Panicked cries burst into the air, and Chloe let out an agonized scream.

Coming up onto his feet, Louk risked a glance backwards. He saw the twins turning away from the bridge, their cloaks billowing out as they swapped swords for bows. He saw Chloe frozen in horror, daggers clattering to the bridge from nerveless fingers.

He saw Olga Discordia staggering forwards, a half-dozen arrows sprouted from her back. The dark elf sorceress opened her mouth in a silent question, shock written clearly on her face. Her wet amber eyes met his-

And the Dark Queen stumbled over the edge of the bridge, plunging into the darkness below.