"Thorpe, James, what's the battle report?" I asked, striding toward them as they appeared deep in conversation.
"Seventeen injured, thankfully no fatalities," James replied briskly.
"That is good news," I said, my eyes scanning the aftermath of the battle. "In any case, I believe it is time to leave the rest to more capable hands," I added, turning toward the city gate. Thorpe and James fell in step behind me.
"You mean Castellan Norman and John?" James inquired.
"Precisely," I affirmed before letting out a sharp whistle. Moments later, Cynex trotted up to us, his silver coat glinting in the dim light.
"You seem unharmed, my friend," I said, running my hand along his neck before mounting him. "James, Thorpe, see that everything is handled here. I sense the sun is not far from rising, and I must return before it is too late."
"Yes, my lord!" they responded in unison.
Hearing their reply, I urged Cynex forward, galloping away from the scene with ever-increasing speed.
"Captain," James began as he watched Kael disappear into the night. "Do you think the lord fully understands what Norman and John plan to do with the two newly conquered cities?"
Thorpe sighed heavily, the weight of the unspoken truth evident in his expression. "Not yet. But he will, in time." Turning sharply, he added, "We have our orders. Let's see to them."
"Yes, sir," James replied.
Thorpe's tone turned colder. "James, you're in charge of herding the pigs."
James grinned, his usual demeanor replaced by something almost feral. "Understood, Captain."
With a spring in his step, James called out, "Chase! Javar! Time to round up the pigs!"
Two figures emerged from the shadows. Chase, a stocky man with slicked-back black hair and piercing hazel eyes, stepped forward first. Javar followed, slightly taller, with close-cropped dark hair and striking silver eyes flecked with green.
The three men strode toward the right side of the city, where a group of knights was struggling to contain the marauders. Among the captives was a particularly bulky marauder, his hands bound behind his back. With a roar, the man charged at the knights, knocking them aside like leaves in a storm.
The marauder barreled forward, a wicked grin splitting his face as he ran directly toward James and his men. Unfazed, James moved with unnatural speed, leaping at the brute and delivering a devastating punch square to his jaw. The marauder crumpled to the ground as blood and teeth sprayed into the air.
The knights quickly regained their footing, dragging the subdued man back to join the rest of the prisoners. James, still wearing a sinister smile, strode to the front of the gathered captives and began to speak.
"Congratulations," he announced, his voice dripping with mockery. "You've been spared your pathetic lives to serve a higher purpose. Consider this your greatest achievement: becoming power and sustenance for our lord."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "Rejoice," he continued, his malevolent grin widening, "for you are the chosen ones"
Some of the marauders who had surrendered visibly recoiled in horror at James's chilling words, their faces pale with dread. Yet, among the defiant few who still resisted, a fiery determination remained, their beliefs unshaken by the looming threat.
"In any case," James continued, his smile as sharp as a blade, "you will remain here in this city for now. Unfortunately, it's not my privilege to control the next stage of the process. For now, however..." He turned his gaze to Chase and Javar. "Chase, take a group of knights, escort one set of these pigs to some homes, and place them under house arrest. Javar, do the same. Keep them in line. The last thing we want is for me to lose my patience and waste valuable livestock."
Despite the malevolence in his tone, his unsettling grin never wavered.
Captain Thorpe watched the proceedings in silence, his eyes cold and calculating as James carried out his orders with grim efficiency. Once satisfied, Thorpe called out, "James!"
James turned at the sound of his name. "Yes, sir," he replied, approaching the captain.
"You, Javar, and Chase must ensure the captives are incapacitated until they're needed," Thorpe instructed. His voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
James nodded, understanding the implications of the command. Without delay, he strode over to Chase, who was organizing his share of the prisoners. Chase paused his movements when James leaned in, whispering something into his ear. Whatever was said caused a flicker of understanding to cross Chase's face. He nodded, then immediately began pressing precise points on the marauders' bodies, one after another. The effect was instantaneous each victim crumpled to the ground, paralyzed but conscious.
"Change of plans, men!" Chase barked. "We're lifting the pigs to their holding place!"
The knights responded with swift precision, carrying out the orders without question. Javar, watching Chase's methods, quickly followed suit. He jabbed the pressure points of his assigned prisoners, rendering them immobile, before relaying the same instructions to his group of knights.
Under the watchful eyes of Captain Thorpe, the operation proceeded with chilling efficiency. The prisoners were rendered powerless, their bodies limp as they were hauled toward their new confinement. For those marauders who had dared to resist, the last flicker of rebellion was extinguished in the face of sheer, methodical force.
At the same time, in another castle far removed from the chaos, the moonlight poured through tall, arched windows, illuminating a space that exuded an air of grandeur. The interior was a masterpiece of elegant wealth, with dark mahogany wood paneling, intricate tapestries depicting ancient battles, and gilded accents that shimmered in the silvery light. A sprawling dining table dominated the room, its surface laden with an extravagant feast: roasted meats glistening with juices, delicately arranged fruits, and golden chalices brimming with rich red wine. The intoxicating aroma of spices and cooked delicacies filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of wax from the numerous flickering candles.
The heavy double doors at the far end of the room swung open with a soft creak, and a man stepped inside.
His presence immediately shifted the room's atmosphere, the refined luxury now tinged with an undercurrent of danger. He was a gentleman of medium height, his lean, athletic frame draped in tailored black attire that spoke of sophistication. His pale, porcelain-like skin seemed almost luminous in the dim light, while his sharp, symmetrical features conveyed both elegance and menace. His neatly combed dark brown hair, streaked with hints of silver at the temples, added to his polished, ageless appearance.
But it was his eyes that truly captivated and unnerved. Strikingly red, they glowed faintly, as though lit by an inner fire. They burned with a focused intensity, revealing a mind constantly calculating, observing, and anticipating. His lips curled into a subtle, enigmatic smile, an expression that was both inviting and foreboding.
With measured steps, he approached the dining table, each movement deliberate, exuding an aura of control and poise. He seated himself gracefully, his piercing gaze scanning the lavish spread before him. His fingers, long and elegant, reached for a silver knife and fork, and he began to eat. Each bite was a study in precision, his movements smooth and unhurried, as if the act of dining was an art form he had perfected over centuries.
The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows across his face, accentuating the deep crimson of his eyes and the sharp angles of his features. As he savored each morsel, the room seemed to grow quieter, the only sounds the occasional clink of cutlery against fine porcelain. There was an unsettling calmness about him a predator in repose, indulging in a moment of tranquility before the hunt resumed.