[Content Warning: This chapter contains depictions of heavy violence against civilians and attempted sexual assault. Reader discretion is advised.]
The next moment
Torvald crashed into the warlord from the side like a battering ram.
The impact sent both of them tumbling, the massive axe missing Nathaniel's head by inches and embedding itself in the stone floor with a crack
"Get up!" Torvald roared at Nathaniel, already rolling to his feet and drawing his sword
Nathaniel scrambled backward on the blood-slick floor, his hands shaking so badly he could barely function
The warlord was faster than his size suggested, he yanked his axe free and swung at Torvald who barely got his sword up to deflect it, the clash of metal rang through the hall
"Move, boy!" Torvald shouted, circling the warlord
Jade started forward to help but a wave of raiders poured through the entrance, at least a dozen of them, cutting straight between where Nathaniel and Torvald were and the rest of the group
"Jade, fall back!" Aldric grabbed his shoulder, pulling him toward the inner chambers, "we can't reach them!"
"But-"
"Now!"
The remaining militia and soldiers were retreating through the doorway, raiders pressing them hard, Jade had no choice but to go with them or be cut off himself
He caught one last glimpse of Torvald engaging the warlord, sword against axe, then the doorway filled with raiders and he couldn't see anything
"Mataranas, Numerius, Yuzon, with me!" Jade shouted as they fell back through the corridor
They were all there, battered and bloody but they can still move
Nathaniel and Torvald were on their own.
On the other side of the hall, Torvald was giving ground against the warlord, the big man's axe strikes were powerful enough to crack stone when they missed
"Run, you idiot!" Torvald yelled at Nathaniel between parries, "get out of here!"
Nathaniel finally moved, grabbing his fallen sword and turning to run, his legs felt like jelly but fear pushed him forward
Torvald backed toward him, still facing the warlord, "go left at the corridor, there's servants' quarters, hide!"
"What about you?"
"I'll be fine, now go!"
Nathaniel ran.
He hit the corridor at full sprint, his boots slipping on the stones, behind him he heard Torvald shout something and the clash of weapons
Left, Torvald had said left.
Nathaniel took the turn without slowing, the corridor was narrower here, darker, lined with wooden doors leading to small chambers
He can hear footsteps behind him, heavy boots on stone
He risked a glance back but couldn't see anyone in the dim light, the corridor twisted and he lost sight of the intersection
Where was Torvald?
Nathaniel kept running, passing door after door, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the sword in his hand felt impossibly heavy
The corridor branched again and he took it, then another turn, trying to put distance between himself and the pursuit
After what felt like an eternity he stopped, pressing against the wall and trying to catch his breath
Silence, except for his own heartbeat hammering in his ears
There's no Torvald, no footsteps.
Had he lost them?
Then he heard it, sound of boots, distant but getting closer, multiple people moving through the corridors
Raiders searching room by room.
Nathaniel started moving again, but quieter, the corridor ahead ended in a wall
Dead end.
"No no no," he whispered, turning to go back but the footsteps were coming from that direction now
He was trapped.
Panic seized him, his eyes darting around the small space, there were two doors here, one on each side of the corridor
He tried the right one, locked or barred from inside
The left one opened, revealing a tiny chamber barely six feet across, a servants' room with a straw mattress and
A privy.
The medieval toilet was just a wooden seat with a hole in it, built into the corner of the room, the smell hit him immediately, human waste and rot
The footsteps were getting closer, he can hear raiders calling to each other in their language
Nathaniel stared at the privy hole, it was maybe a foot wide, dropping down into darkness, probably leading to the castle's waste pit below
"You've got to be kidding me," he breathed
The voices were right outside the corridor.
Nathaniel looked at the hole again, his stomach churning, this was insane, he couldn't
"…"
"Fuck it," Nathaniel hissed
He sheathed his sword and climbed onto the wooden seat, the wood creaked under his weight, he looked down into the hole and immediately regretted it
The drop was maybe ten feet into what looked like a pit of liquid sewage, the smell was overwhelming
He could hear raiders entering the corridor, kicking open doors.
Nathaniel took a breath, held it, and dropped feet-first into the hole.
The fit was tight, his shoulders barely making it through, the walls of the shaft were slick with filth and he slid down faster than expected
He hit the bottom with a splash that made him want to vomit, liquid waste up to his knees, the smell was beyond description, his eyes watering from the fumes
The pit was pitch black except for dim light filtering through the privy hole above and a few others scattered along the wall, it was maybe twenty feet across, the ceiling low enough that he had to crouch
Nathaniel waded toward the wall and pressed against it, trying to stay under the hole he'd come through, if the raiders looked down they might not see him in the darkness
His whole body was covered in human waste now, soaked into his clothes and hair, he could feel things moving in the liquid around his legs and desperately tried not to think about what they were
Above, he heard boots entering the room.
Raiders speaking in their language, laughing about something.
Nathaniel held his breath, pressing harder against the wall, one hand over his mouth to keep from gagging
The privy seat creaked as someone sat on it.
Oh god.
Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut and moved to the side just in time, more waste splashing into the pit beside him
The raider finished and stood up, still talking to his companion, then their footsteps moved away, exiting the room
Nathaniel let out a shaky breath, he'd made it, they hadn't looked down the hole
From somewhere above he heard shouting, angry voices, then a scream
An old man's voice, cracking with age but defiant.
Then a woman's scream, high and terrified, followed by another.
The screams were coming from the room beside the privy, he could hear them through the stone walls, could hear the sound of furniture breaking
"Please, we're just servants!" the old man's voice, desperate, "let the girls go, take me if you want someone!"
A raider's voice, mocking in broken Calradian, "old man, you die quick, girls, they fun first"
The old man screamed in rage, the sound of a struggle.
Then a wet thud and the scream cut off.
One of the women wailed, "Grandfather, no!"
More laughter from the raiders, cruel and anticipatory.
The women were begging now, "please, no, please"
One of the raiders said something in his language, the others laughed, crude and vicious.
Furniture crashed, the women screamed again, the sound of bodies hitting the floor.
Nathaniel stood in the sewage pit with his hands pressed over his mouth, his whole body shaking
He could hear one of the women fighting back, fists hitting flesh, her voice raw with fury and terror, "I'll kill you, I'll-"
A sharp crack, like a hand across a face.
The woman cried out, her defiance breaking into sobs.
The other woman was just crying now, begging, "kill us, please, just kill us, don't-"
"No kill yet," a raider's voice, amused, "fun first, kill after"
They'd rather die than be violated.
Nathaniel could hear the raiders moving around the room, could hear cloth tearing, could imagine exactly what was happening
His conscience was screaming at him, modern sensibilities warring with survival instinct, these were people being hurt, about to be violated, and he was just standing here
But what could he do?
He was one man, covered in shit, against multiple armed raiders who'd already proven they could kill militia members with ease
He'd die, that was certain, and his death wouldn't save anyone.
The rational part of his brain was screaming that, telling him to stay hidden, to survive, that being a hero got you killed
But the screams kept coming, desperate and broken.
One of the women was still fighting back, he could hear the impact of fists on flesh, hear her cursing at them even as they laughed, "Bastards, I hope you choke, I hope-"
Another crack, harder this time, and her voice went quiet except for sobbing.
The other one was just crying now, broken pleas that gutted him to hear, "please, please don't"
Nathaniel's hands were shaking against his mouth, his whole body trembling, tears mixing with the filth on his face
He was a coward.
He knew he was a coward.
Every instinct in his body was screaming at him to stay down here, to survive, to let it happen and live with the guilt.
But his hands were moving anyway, reaching for his sword, pulling it free from its sheath with a wet sound.
"I'm going to die," he whispered to himself, "I'm absolutely going to die"
The women screamed again, one of them begging in a way that made his blood run cold, "not like this, please, not like this"
Nathaniel looked up at the privy holes above, there were three of them along the wall, the one he'd come through and two others
One of those others had to be in the room where the women were.
He could climb up, could come out right in the middle of them.
Surprise might give him a few seconds.
A few seconds to do what? Kill two or three trained raiders? With his pathetic One-Handed skill and shaking hands?
He'd die.
But maybe the women could run while the raiders were dealing with him.
Maybe.
Probably not, but maybe.
Nathaniel waded through the sewage toward the second privy hole, the one where he could hear the struggle most clearly.
His legs felt like lead, every step an argument with himself about why this was the stupidest thing he'd ever done.
Modern man, he thought bitterly, can't even let someone be violated without trying to be a hero.
Probably going to get killed for it too.
He reached the wall below the hole and looked up, it was ten feet, the shaft slick with waste, climbing it would be nearly impossible.
Nearly.
But there were stones protruding from the wall, gaps in the mortar, just enough to get handholds if he was desperate enough.
And he was.
Nathaniel sheathed his sword again and started climbing, his fingers slipping on the filth-covered stones, his boots finding enough space to pull him up.
The screaming above was louder now, more desperate, one of the women was begging, "grandfather, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry"
Crying over the old man who'd died trying to protect them.
He climbed faster, his whole body shaking, halfway up his hand slipped and he nearly fell but caught himself on a jutting stone.
Nathaniel reached the top and grabbed the edge of the privy seat, pulling himself up slowly, carefully, trying not to make noise.
He could see into the room, just a sliver of view.
Two young women, maybe late teens, backed against the wall, their clothes torn, faces bruised and bleeding.
On the floor near the door, an old man's body, his head split open, blood pooling around him.
Three raiders stood between the women and the door, grinning.
Sturgian Raider - Level 5
Sturgian Raider - Level 6
Sturgian Raider - Level 5
One of them was unbuckling his belt, saying something to the others that made them laugh.
They hadn't noticed the privy yet.
Nathaniel pulled himself up and through the hole as quietly as he could, the wooden seat creaking slightly but the raiders were too focused on the women to hear.
He stood there for a moment, dripping sewage onto the floor, his sword in his hand.
The women saw him first, their eyes going wide, not understanding what they were seeing.
Nathaniel put a finger to his lips, begging them silently not to give him away.
He took a step forward, trying to move silently despite being covered in liquid filth, positioning himself behind the raiders.
Just a few more steps and he could-
One of the raiders wrinkled his nose, "what that smell?"
The others paused, sniffing the air.
"Worse than usual," one said in heavily accented Calradian, looking around confused.
The first raider turned slowly, following his nose.
His eyes met Nathaniel's.
"…"
"…"
For a moment they just stared at each other, the raider's brain clearly trying to process what he was seeing, a young man covered head to toe in human waste, holding a sword, standing in the middle of the room.
Nathaniel paused, his sword raised but frozen.
The raider looked at his companion beside him.
Then back at Nathaniel.
Then at his companion again, his mouth opening as if to say something.
Then back at Nathaniel, his eyes going from confused to alarmed.
Nathaniel's grip tightened on his sword.
"Um…. Hello?"