Chapter 2 Vengeance over Justice
Meanwhile, in the town of Ethille, the local militia faced off against the bandits. The soldiers, though well-equipped, were outnumbered and outmatched. Tension crackled in the air as swords were drawn, and the clash of steel echoed through the narrow road.
"Hold your ground!" shouted Captain Veria, a fierce woman with a reputation for bravery. Her armor gleamed in the fading light, and her voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
"We cannot let them take our supplies!"
Just as the first blow was struck, a voice rang out from within a nearby carriage.
"Stop this madness!" It was Lady Seraphine, a young noblewoman known for her compassion and fierce spirit. She had been traveling to Ethille to negotiate trade agreements when the bandits attacked.
"Lady Seraphine, stay back!" one of the soldiers shouted, but she stepped forward, her eyes blazing with determination. "If we do not stand together, we will all fall. We must unite against these thugs!"
Her words hung in the air, a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. The soldiers hesitated, glancing at one another, and for a brief moment, the bandits paused, sensing the shift in morale.
As Eldhar and his knights approached Ethille, the sounds of battle reached their ears. The urgency in Eldhar's heart quickened. "We must hurry!" he urged, spurring his horse forward.
When they arrived, the scene was chaotic. Bandits clashed with the local militia, and Lady Seraphine stood defiantly in the midst of it all. Eldhar quickly assessed the situation, his mind racing with strategies.
"Azre, flank them from the left. The rest of you, follow my lead!"
With a rallying cry, Eldhar charged into the fray, his sword gleaming in the twilight. The knights surged forward, their presence a beacon of hope for the beleaguered soldiers. The tide of battle began to turn.
"Eldhar!" Veria shouted, recognizing the captain amidst the chaos. "We could use your help!"
"Together, we can drive them back!" Eldhar replied, his voice steady. The knights and the militia fought side by side, their combined strength overwhelming the bandits.
As the last of the bandits fled, the townsfolk of Ethille emerged from their homes, eyes wide with a mix of fear and gratitude. Eldhar surveyed the scene, his heart heavy with the weight of what could have been.
"Thank you, brave knights," Veria said, wiping sweat from her brow.
"You arrived just in time."
Lady Seraphine approached Eldhar, her expression a mixture of admiration and relief.
"You saved us. But we must ensure this doesn't happen again. We need to root out the source of these bandits."
In the heart of Ethille, where the clang of hammers echoed through the streets and the scent of molten metal filled the air, a company of young knights stood resolute. They had just returned from a harrowing mission, rescuing Lady Seraphine from the clutches of ruthless bandits.
Now, with the noblewoman safe, they gathered to discuss their next move against the remaining bandit forces that threatened the peace of Ethille.
Captain Eldhar, a stalwart leader with a heart as fierce as his sword, addressed his companions.
"We've treated the wounded, but our work is far from over. We must strike decisively against the bandits before they regroup. Viera will join us shortly; her knowledge of the terrain will be invaluable."
As the knights prepared for their meeting, Eldhar made a difficult decision.
"Rowan, you were the one who alerted us to Lady Seraphine's plight. You and Thalia will represent us at her manor. Show her our gratitude, but we cannot afford to linger.
The rest of us will scout the bandits' hideout."
Rowan, a young knight with a keen mind and a quick tongue, nodded.
"Understood, Captain. We'll ensure she knows how much we appreciate her hospitality."
Thalia, a fierce warrior with a heart of gold, smiled at Rowan.
"Let's make sure we don't keep her waiting too long."
As they departed, Eldhar felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He respected Lady Seraphine and knew she would understand their urgency.
Meanwhile, he and the remaining knights made their way to the Ethille military base camp, where Viera awaited them.
Viera, a commanding figure with a sharp gaze and a history intertwined with Eldhar's, greeted them with a nod.
"It's been too long, Eldhar. We have much to discuss."
As they strategized, Azre, a spirited knight with a penchant for adventure, strolled through the bustling market of Ethille alongside Nilda, her steadfast companion.
Nilda, ever the vigilant protector, insisted on accompanying Azre despite her protests.
"You may want to explore alone, but I'm not letting you out of my sight. You never know what trouble might lurk in the shadows."
Azre chuckled, her spirit buoyed by the lively atmosphere.
"Very well, Nilda. But let's enjoy the sights first."
As they wandered through the vibrant stalls, the two knights marveled at the craftsmanship on display—intricate jewelry, finely forged weapons, and magical trinkets that sparkled with enchantment.
The market was alive with the chatter of merchants and the laughter of children, a stark contrast to the grim task that lay ahead.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted nearby. A group of rough-looking men, their faces marked by scars and malice, pushed through the crowd, shoving aside anyone in their path. Azre's instincts kicked in. "Nilda, stay close."
Before they could retreat, one of the thugs spotted them.
"Look what we have here! A couple of knights out for a stroll. How quaint."
Nilda stepped forward, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. "You'd do well to leave this place, scoundrel. You're not welcome here."
The thug whose face filled with piercings and tattoos laughed, a cruel sound that echoed through the marketplace. "And what will you do about it? You're just two little girls playing at being knights."
It seems like, that the two thugs tries to harrass and extort a large sum of coins to one of the shop owners in the market place.
Azre's heart raced, but she stood firm. "We're not afraid of you. Leave now, or you'll regret it."
The thugs sneered, but before he could respond, Nilda drew her sword with a swift motion. "We won't let you terrorize these people."
The standoff drew the attention of nearby merchants and townsfolk, who began to gather, murmuring in fear and curiosity. Azre felt a surge of determination. "We'll protect this city, no matter the cost."
With a roar, the bandit lunged at Nilda, but she was ready. With a swift parry and a counterattack, she sent him sprawling to the ground. The other bandits hesitated, glancing at each other, unsure of how to proceed.
"Let's show them what knights are made of!" Azre shouted, drawing her own sword. The crowd erupted in cheers, emboldened by the knights' bravery.
As the fight broke out, Eldhar and the other knights, alerted by the commotion, rushed to the scene. They arrived just in time to see Azre and Nilda holding their ground against the bandits. Eldhar's heart swelled with pride.
"Together, we will drive them out!"
With a coordinated effort, the knights surged forward, their swords gleaming in the sunlight.
The bandits, realizing they were outmatched, began to retreat, but not before Eldhar's voice rang out. "You will not escape! This ends now!"
The battle was swift, and soon the bandits were either captured or fleeing into the alleys of Ethille. The townsfolk erupted in applause, their spirits lifted by the knights' valor.
After the dust settled, Eldhar approached Azre and Nilda, a proud smile on his face.
"You both fought bravely. Your actions today have shown the people of Ethille that they can rely on us."
Nilda sheathed her sword, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"We couldn't let them terrorize the market. This city deserves better."
Azre nodded, her heart still racing. "We must remain vigilant. There are more bandits out there, and we need to prepare for their return."
Azre picked up her pace and walks away filled with hope and determinations. As they both vanished in midst of the crowd.
Meanwhile, deep within the forests beyond the city walls, the bandits lingered in secrecy. Their hideout, cloaked in layers of sinister illusion, lay invisible to any passing eyes. Within its shadowed halls, Darkan—the bandit leader who had attacked Ethille not long ago and barely escaped the knights' pursuit—now knelt trembling.
The mark on his forehead, a tattoo that branded him unmistakably, gleamed faintly in the firelight as he pleaded for mercy. Before him sat their true master, a man whose very presence seemed to fill the chamber with suffocating malice.
Holon.
Though Darkan's voice cracked with desperation, Holon lounged in his seat in a manner both careless and unnervingly predatory. His eyes remained closed, but still his command carried weight.
"Look at me," he ordered, his tone low and cutting.
Darkan froze. He knew what awaited him should he obey. Holon's crimson gaze was no ordinary sight—it was a curse of terror itself. Anyone who met those blood-red eyes fell into despair so absolute that death soon followed. To defy meant punishment. To obey meant ruin.
Swallowing his fear, Darkan raised his head. But instead of the searing gaze he dreaded, he found Holon's eyes still shut. Relief coursed through him, though it was short-lived. The master rose, stepping close enough that Darkan could feel the coldness of his breath as he leaned to whisper.
"Bring me the heads of those knights," Holon murmured. "Or I'll take yours instead."
"Yes, yes, Master—I will not fail you again!" Darkan stammered, bowing low.
"Good to hear, my sweet Darkan." Holon's lips curled into something far crueler than a smile.
This man was no ordinary outlaw. Holon—known across Etherissia as the Plague—was a figure of merciless carnage. Entire villages had rotted under his shadow, lives claimed without a shred of pity. Others named him the Tormentor, for he relished breaking the minds of his victims before delivering the killing blow. His legend was one of dread, whispered even among his own followers.
No captured bandit dared to utter his name. When questioned, they quaked in terror.
"Please, don't make me say it!" one prisoner had once cried, weeping as chains rattled around him. "If I speak his name, he will find me. He will kill me!"
The Purge Knights knew this fear well. On this night, one such prisoner sat bound before them, shaking violently. Aven, senior knight of the order, slammed his gauntlet against the table.
"This is pointless! He'll tell us nothing."
Aven's fury was barely restrained. He was not only a knight but a man carrying scars fifteen years deep—the day bandits slaughtered his wife, leaving him with nothing but grief. The one who led that massacre, the one who haunted his every waking moment, was none other than Holon himself. Aven had sworn vengeance, though he kept his oath hidden from his brethren.
"Calm yourself, my friend," Eldhar said gently, placing a steadying hand on Aven's shoulder. "Impatience will win us nothing."
Aven exhaled sharply, bowed his head, and muttered an apology.
Then Azre stepped forward. "Let me try." She extended her hand over the prisoner, her voice soft yet resolute as divine light bloomed from her fingertips. The bandit's wounds began to close, his shallow breaths steadied, and the cloud of fear in his eyes seemed to ease as her magic cleansed his mind.
The soldiers watched in awe.
"By the gods, it's working!" one gasped.
"He looks… calmer now," Viera whispered, astonished at the transformation.
The man drifted into rest, and the knights agreed to grant him a short reprieve. For a brief moment, hope stirred that he might yet speak.
Outside the chamber, Azre lifted her gaze to the moon above, its golden glow shining against the fifth night of its cycle. The sight stirred old sorrow within her. Soon it would mark the anniversary of her mother's death, twenty-two years gone to an illness no magic could heal.
Her father, Eldhar, approached quietly, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "Thinking of her again?"
"Yes," Azre whispered. "I can't help it."
Before Eldhar could speak further, a scream shattered the night.
Both rushed to the prisoner's chamber.
Inside, chaos reigned. From the darkness of the walls, a phantom figure had emerged, draped in living shadow. It moved swiftly, seizing the sleeping prisoner before the knights could react. Spells of paralysis washed over the guards, locking their limbs in place as the shadow dragged the captive into its abyss.
In desperation, the knights strained to move, but their bodies betrayed them.
Then, as the phantom began to sink back into the dark, it left behind a sphere of writhing shadow.
The paralysis broke just in time.
"Nilda, now!" Eldhar cried.
The mage raised her staff, her voice ringing out as radiant shields flared to life around them. The shadow sphere pulsed once, twice—then detonated.
The explosion tore the chamber apart, stone and splinters raining down. Yet within Nilda's barrier, the knights endured, shaken but alive.
Their prisoner, however, was gone.