Lauden Denoir
Amazing. Truly amazing... waking up from a drunken stupor only to receive the wonderful news that your family is with Scythe Seris to betray the High Sovereign.
And now here I am. Stripped of nobility, stripped of my status, and dragged here to war.
The absolute last thing I want to see right now is Arthur Leywin with a bunch of lances flying around killing all of us.
Months had elapsed since the very day the Alacryans overran Xyrus City and filled the sky with our war banners.
Since then, life for the local proletariat had devolved into a living death of chains and forced labor of enslavement. While those in the upper echelons were permitted to continue their businesses, all with the same purpose of serving us Alacryans.
Desperation, of course, bred rebellion. Pockets of resistance flared up across the city, but they were ruthlessly snuffed out every time, leaving nothing behind but ash and execution lists.
Sometimes, while out on patrol, I witnessed the true cost of hope. Dicathenian families—with young children trailing desperately behind them—would make a desperate run for escape, only to be cut down in the streets.
I never could imagine war could be so hurtful.
Being stationed here has given me an entirely different perspective on this supposedly obsolete continent. I honestly feel sorry for them. Worse, I feel a growing disgust at the actions of my own people.
"Mr. Denoir!" The voice of a young maiden broke through my thoughts.
I turned, placing my hands behind my back to maintain a proper military posture, and offered a faint smile. "Lady Helstea! Good evening! What gave you the courage to approach an Alacryan soldier? We are enemies, you know."
I had become acquainted with the Helstea family a few weeks back during a routine patrol, where I'd stepped in to save them from a group of rowdy, drunken soldiers.
I don't know why I did that..., but I did it anyway. Normally I wouldn't give a damn.
"I know this isn't much," she murmured, keeping her eyes low, "but please accept this as thanks for helping us that time."
She held out a small sack filled with fresh fruit and a few bottles of wine. I accepted it, quietly slipping the items into my ring while watching her with a growing sense of suspicion.
"Thank you..."
"..."
"Is another war of resistance about to break out?" I asked.
"No!" she blurted out, a little too quickly.
"Then what's with the farewell gift?" I asked, gesturing to the ring where the food had just disappeared. "All I ever did was keep you and your family out of danger once. A gesture like this in times like these... it feels like you're saying goodbye, no?"
"I swear it's not," she insisted, her voice tight. "Besides, it's impossible for that to happen again."
"True..."
She wasn't wrong. We were tightening our grip on the city, stepping up the patrols. It wasn't just about marching the streets anymore. Now, we were checking inside people's homes.
A soft, breathless sound escaped her lips. "Hehe..."
"What's so funny?" I asked.
"You..." She finally looked up, offering a fragile smile. "You're probably the only kind person among the Alacryans, Mr. Denoir!"
"You wouldn't say that if you knew who I really am, young lady," I smirked. "I am a noble of highblood Denoir... Well, I was, at least..."
"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"
"What do you mean?" I laughed, shaking my head at the memory. "When I was back home, I used to spend all night drinking and doing absolutely nothing but spending money on stupid things at Cardigan, Victorious, and anywhere else I could waste my time. I was a maniac."
Yes, a maniac. It was easier that way. Father would've eventually made Caera the head of Highblood Denoir no matter what, so there is no point for me to fight for that position. I figured I might as well enjoy myself, drink and eat my fill, and do whatever I wanted.
"Well, regardless," she said softly, " I can see you've changed. A maniac wouldn't help people out when they're in trouble."
I opened my mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but the words never came.
"What is it like over there? In Alacrya?"
I paused, looking past her toward the darkened skyline of Xyrus. "...Well, it's lovely. A bit colder than here, and more advanced in almost every way. But honestly? I prefer this place. I like how old-school it is. Walking through these streets... it makes me feel like I'm experiencing a moment pulled straight from a history book."
"Well, I would like to visit Alacrya one day," she said, her voice dropping slightly as her gaze wandered over the busy street. "I mean... once the war is over. Or..."
"...Sure, you can visit once the war is over," I replied, my voice quiet as the reality of the situation settled back over us. "Depends on how soon that Godspell decides to show up."
She looked up at me.
"And you should visit Cardigan first then—" I continued on.
We kept talking, letting the small, easy conversation pull us away from the reality around us until the sun began to dip below the horizon. We split up, dissolving back into our respective sides of the conflict.
And just like that, I was back on patrol.
"OPEN THE DOOR!!!" My captain yelled out as he banged on the door. "OPEN IT NOW OR WE'LL BREAK IT DOWN!!!"
Oh, sh!t...
Why does it have to be this mansion...?
The other soldier and I stood waiting behind him. Soon the door opens.
An old woman in a maid outfit stepped out onto the threshold, trembling.
"Why the f*ck don't you open this door when an Alacryan officer tells you to? Are you deaf?"
"I'm sorry, kind sir. I was cleaning, and my ears aren't as good as they used to be—"
A harsh slap cut her off, striking her across the face and causing her to crash onto the doorstep. "Out of my way!" Captain growled, kicking her aside as he crossed the threshold. He jerked his head toward the interior, gesturing for us to get in the house.
Instinctively, I lowered myself, reaching out a hand to help the old woman back to her feet, but—
"Denoir!" Captain barked, his eyes drilling into the back of my head. "Did I ever order you to help her?"
My hand froze in the air. I looked at the old woman, then pulled my arm back, snapping upright.
"No sir." Stepping right past her, I entered the house, leaving the old woman to pull herself up.
Inside, a large group of anxious maids began gathering, approaching us with lowered heads. Some of them are probably still in their teenage years.
"How many people live in this house?" The captain demanded, scanning the fancy mansion.
"Only us maids, sir," one of them answered, her voice trembling. "There are thirty of us."
"This is the Helstea estate, yes? Where are they?" The captain narrowed his eyes, stepping further into the foyer.
"They aren't here, sir," the maid whispered, keeping her eyes glued to the floor. "They left... they didn't tell any of us where they went."
"Inspect every room!"
We broke off to execute the order. I moved from room to room, praying that I wouldn't stumble across the Helstea family hiding in a closet or a crawlspace. Thank Vritra's horns, I didn't. They were truly gone.
But when we finally returned to the foyer to report, the scene waiting for us made my blood run entirely cold in disgust.
The captain had stripped down, completely naked, cornering a few of the terrified young maids in the center of the hall. He was shoving one of them violently, ...blood gushing out of his nose from a sudden, desperate strike she must have landed to defend herself.
"You f*cking b!tch!!!" He roared, his voice echoing off the high ceilings as he slapped her hard across the face. "How dare you!!?"
He turned his bloodied face toward us. "Both of you come here and spread her legs for me!"
"Hehe, yes sir!" The other soldier immediately grinned, stepping forward to follow the command without a shred of hesitation.
They were pinned down to the floor. The other maids shrieked, backing away, completely helpless. My squadmate held her down tightly, looking back up at me with an expectant smirk, waiting for me to grab her other leg.
This is wrong!
"NO! PLEASE! I BEG OF YOU! PLEASE!!" The young maid screamed, her voice cracking with terror as they groped and played with her private parts, laughing as they did it.
This isn't war!
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to move, to decide.
"PLEASE!!!"
"DENOIR!!!"
This is sick!
An invisible, crescent slash of condensed wind elemental mana erupted forward at full output with a sharp, deafening hum.
In an instant, the chaotic noise in the foyer choked out into absolute silence as the soldier's head dropped down along with his headless corpse.
Sprouts of jagged stone had shot up from the floorboards, interlocking into a makeshift shield just in time. Crouched behind the cracked barrier of rock, my naked captain slowly stood up, staring directly at me through the gaps.
That slash was meant to kill both of them!!!
"Doctor said I shouldn't use mana for anything for a while." He muttered, his voice dropping into a low, menacing rasp. "But it seems like I just got myself an excuse."
I fired more slashes at him. And before I could reposition myself, my legs sank to the ground, allowing a fist covered in rock to slam me down.
A sharp, deafening ring took over my ears. blotting out the screams of the maids as blinding pain flared through my skull. My vision blurred with white spots dancing at the edges of my consciousness like snow.
Through the haze, I saw him standing right over me, ready to finish me off.
With a desperate, frantic surge of strength, I snapped my hand upward. A single wind slash erupted right from the floor. The invisible slash at close range sliced cleanly through his rock-armored legs.
"AGHHHHHHH!!!" He shrieked, falling to the ground. "AGGHHHHHHH!!! F*CKKKKKK!!! You're not getting away with this!!! I should have won!! If it weren't for my illness I could have won!!!"
Hissing through the pain, I aimed my hand at him, trying to channel a good load of mana for this one slash.
A massive shadow loomed over me.
Before I could release the spell, a heavy grip clamped around my wrist, pinning my arm down.
"That's enough!" a deep voice rumbled. Above me was a towering, muscular man clad in crappy light armor; his tight black undershirt clung to a frame of prominently defined muscle. Unlike his dagger that oozed with every single type of elemental mana, this guy doesn't have mana at all! He doesn't have a mana core!
Is he really not a mage? Just a regular guy? How is he so damn strong?! I couldn't move my arm even a fraction of an inch against his raw strength.
The intense strain on my cracked skull finally took its total toll. As my focus shattered and I drifted completely into a blackout.
***
"Come on! FIGHT!"
"Fight!"
"Do something!!!"
"Uhh... What...?!" My eyes snap open. The first thing that hits me isn't sight, but a wall of sound—a deafening, chaotic roar and cheering that vibrates right through the stone bench beneath me.
"Hit 'im! Left hook! Left hook!"
Someone is screaming directly into my right ear. I flinch, blinking rapidly against the blinding glare. I wasn't in my king size bed but swallowed by a sea of shadows and shouting strangers, all of them looking past me, focusing on a bright, elevated square of canvas in the center of the arena, where I can see two men fighting each other.
When I squeezed my eyes and looked closely to see that naked captain. His legs had been perfectly put back together. He was locked in a brutal dance with the exact same man I saw right before I blacked out.
The captain was slick with sweat, his movements ragged and heavy, while the man didn't even look winded.
The captain was losing.
"He's amazing, right" Lilia Helstea came out of nowhere, her sudden appearance beside me pulling my gaze away from the ring. "Just a normal man."
"What is going on?!" I asked, my voice strained and thick with confusion as I tried to process the bizarre scene. "And where are we?!"
"We're under the city. Your captain is fighting one of us. He's fighting the leader of our resistance war," Lilia explained, her eyes fixed grimly on the stage. "If he wins, he lives. And if he loses, he'll be punished under the law of dwarves."
"See—I knew there would be another resistance war!" I said, my heart skipped a beat as I looked from the bloodied ring back to her. "But am I next?"
"No," she said softly. "You saved my maids. You'll be fine."
"...Who is that man??"
"Alias Novak. The man among men. People say he can win against an Orange Core mage or even a Yellow Core with raw strength! I didn't believe that at first, but now I think that might be true."
Right at that moment, a heavy thud echoed from the center of the arena. The captain finally collapsed to the canvas, completely broken and defeated. The crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Almost instantly, a few gruff-looking dwarves stepped into the square, callously hauling the captain up by his arms to force him to stand.
Before I could even draw a breath of relief from Lilia's words, the shadows around us shifted. Several large hands clamped firmly onto my shoulders, hoisting me out of my bench.
"Hey—what are you doing?!" I managed to gasp, but my protests were ignored.
Without a word, the resistance fighters forcefully dragged me out of the shadows, pulling me directly up onto the brightly lit square of canvas right in front of my ruined and naked captain.
"Here." One of the dwarves gave me a pair of scissors. I stared down at the heavy, cold iron shears resting in my palm.
"Now cut his d!ck."
"Excuse me?" I looked from the rusted blades to the dwarf, then over to Alias Novak, the normal man who was casually wiping away the blood on him as if he hadn't just beaten a military captain into a pulp with his bare hands.
"Cut his d!ck." The dwarf repeated.
"C-cut his..."
"You chose our side the moment you took your squadmate's head off," a dwarf holding the captain growled, tightening his grip. "Don't get squeamish now, Mr. highblood."
"Well?" Alias Novak's voice cut through the silence. He didn't sound angry; he sounded entirely detached, like a judge reading a routine sentence. He tossed his blood-stained towel onto a corner post and stepped closer, his massive frame casting a long shadow over me. Under dwarven law, which applies to males, rapists and those who attempt it have their manhood severed. And then, they are forced to eat it. You saved one of our women, which means you saved one of us. Means you're not like the rest of your people. Means your parents did a good job raising you. That makes you one of us now."
Novak looked down at me, his eyes piercing. "Or are you?"
In front of me, held up like a butchered carcass by two burly dwarven rebels, the captain was barely conscious. His poorly mended legs twitched weakly against the canvas, but his head hung low, a pathetic mixture of sweat, blood, and saliva dripping from his chin.
"Please... Lauden... we're countrymen..." the captain croaked. "Don't let them make you do this... don't do this..."
"Countrymen?" I murmured. "You weren't acting like a countryman back in that foyer, Captain. You were acting like an animal."
I stared at the heavy iron shears, the weight of the metal anchoring me to a reality I could no longer run from. "Sorry..." I whispered, my thumb slipping into the handle. "But you really shouldn't have done that."
I raised the iron shears, the shadow of my hand falling over his terrified, pleading face, and closed the blades.