The Lone Wanderer

Rodrick clicked his tongue, annoyed he’d been assigned the tedious task.

“Why couldn’t they send somebody else?!” he asked, getting a nod back from Sarin.

Did he feel a little bad his relatives were missing? Sure, he wasn’t that heartless. Still, this was Remior – people died all the time. Especially during these tumultuous years. Their family was in the midst of a damn war for fuck’s sake! Even if the bastards of House Avalon weren’t the ones behind the attack, there were plenty of other suspects. After all, the filthy commoners in their towns hated their guts!

“It’s not that bad Roddy. I’ve been itching for some peasant meat lately.” Bessinda said, licking her lips.

Well, she did have a point. While the owners of the Drain bloodline could technically sustain themselves with beasts and demi-humans, there was just something special about hunting down their kin. Nothing beat tasting a human’s hopelessness as the life left their eyes, their body shrivelling like a dried waterskin.

Of course, they all knew these… strange stirrings were but another side-effect of their blighted bloodline. But fuck if it didn’t feel good giving into the temptation! Besides, who cared about a couple peasants anyway? They already had to regularly cull the stronger ones, so that shit like this didn’t happen as often.

“There it is… finally.” he said once Bogside town came into view.

Entering the decrepit town, the trio pinched their noses, not appreciating the stench of piss and excrement all that much. These damn commoners were hell-bent on turning the place into another swamp!

A few of them scurried to their homes upon seeing their lords strolling along the streets. The sight caused Rodrick to smirk. They could hide all they wanted – three of them would end up sacrificed all the same.

Reaching a small tavern in the middle of the town, he gestured at Sarin to do his part. The boy was a couple years younger than him and Bessinda, but he knew the drill by now. Kicking the door open, Sarin soon dragged an elderly man out. Fegan was among the oldest in the town – a Red-born that House Tantalus had allowed to live this long on purpose, so they’d have somebody leading the rest. Placing a person in charge only made their jobs easier.

“M-Master Rodrick! To what do I owe this pleasure?” the old bootlicker stammered, faking the most pleasant smile he could muster.

Still, the third-rate act sounded like nails scraping against a wall to Rodrick’s ears, making him grimace.

“Two things.” he said, wanting nothing more than to get this over with. “First, three members of our House went missing from their station at the north border. Do you know anything about that?”

“My lord! We don’t even have that many Yellows since you–” Fegan swallowed hard as he caught himself. “…we don’t have that many Yellows lately. Everyone at that grade is a young boy or girl who’s never trained a day in their life. Nobody here would be dumb enough to attack three elites from your family.”

Bessinda slapped the old man, sending him tumbling on the dirt.

“You think we don’t know that?!” she yelled, her voice oozing with contempt.

“We’re obviously asking if anybody suspicious has entered the town recently.” Sarin added, rolling his eyes.

“Ah! Ah, yes!” Fegan hurriedly nodded. “Two travellers arrived about a month ago! They’re currently staying by the eastern edge, close to the bog.”

Rodrick frowned. He hadn’t really expected to find any clues in this god-forsaken dumpster of a town. A month was plenty of time for the culprits to have travelled hundreds of miles from the province – the only reason it had even taken the family so long to realize the guards were missing was because their attention had been focused on the war against the Avalons.

“Just two of them? Is either at Green?” he asked, having difficulty believing two Yellows would have been strong enough to take down the whole group. But if they had a Green, things could get troublesome. 𝖗

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“No, my lord! In fact, only the girl is at Yellow. The boy is at Orange!”

Hearing that, Sarin kicked the man’s chest, the old codger coughing out a splash of blood.

“An Orange?! Has old age finally rotten your brain, you piece of shit?!” Bessinda asked. “How could they possibly take down three Yellows?!”

It was her turn to kick him a couple of times. Had his grade been any lower, he would have died by now.

“That’s enough, Bessy.” Rodrick said, grabbing her shoulder. “He’s still useful. Finding somebody to replace him would be a pain in the ass.”

Glancing around, he didn’t miss the relieved sighs of the townsfolk. Most of them were still hiding in their homes, peeking through the windows, only a few daring to step outside. Even those who did made sure to keep their distance from them.

“Just to be thorough, where did those two come from?” he asked, turning to Fegan again.

The old man was holding his knees in pain, trying to make himself smaller. It took him a second to realize Rodrick had asked him a question.

“F-From the south, Master Rodrick. They said they fled from their town because things got too dangerous there.”

Rodrick nodded, growing more and more certain they couldn’t be their targets. They’d just have to report to the family that they’d found nothing, and hope the group sent to the other town got luckier.

“Get up.” he ordered, not leaving much room for debate. “Fetch us three commoners close to our age. Two girls, one boy. At Yellow.”

The old man gritted his teeth at the sound of that, a hint of defiance appearing in his eyes for the first time today.

“My lord, it hasn’t even been three months since the last time. Please give us a few more weeks, I beg you!” he said, climbing to his feet with difficulty.

Bessinda looked like she was about to kick him again, but Rodrick held her back.

“I don’t care. We’ve grown sick of feeding on critters. Since we’re here, we might as well indulge. Or would you prefer we pick two people each?”

Fegan balled his fists, the colour draining from his hands as he remained silent for a few seconds. Eventually, he spoke again.

“As you wish…” he spat in resignation. “At least, can the new girl be one of them this time? She’s the right age.”

“Is she pretty?” Sarin asked.

“She’s ok.” the old man said, his features twisting into a grimace.

The boy looked like he was going to ask for more details, but Rodrick cut him off.

“Bring her.” he shrugged. “Just hurry up. The sooner we get this over with the better.”

Fegan limped away, though Rodrick knew he was exaggerating his injuries to buy his fellow peasants a few more breaths. What a pointless endeavour…

It wasn’t until half an hour later that he returned, with three people in tow. Two of them – a boy and a girl – Rodrick recognized. Not by name of course – that would be ridiculous. But he did remember their faces, having seen them on some past visit. They were locals. The last girl, however, he didn’t recognize. Her frame was petite, her tousled black hair only reaching her shoulders. Her black eyes were half-hidden behind a pair of glasses. As for her demeanour, it was different than the other two.

‘Of course it is…’ Rodrick grinned, deciding he was going to take good care of her.

Contrary to the downtrodden expressions of the others, who had already given in to their fate, the newcomer clearly had no idea what was about to happen to her. She asked Fegan all sorts of questions, trying to figure out what was going on.

Wearing the fakest smile the old man could muster, he lied to her through his teeth, convincing her that the generous nobles of House Tantalus were about to grant her some grand opportunity. What a fool she was. Buying Fegan’s bullshit, she looked at the trio in excitement, eager to follow them out of the town.

“Have five more ready by the time we return.” Rodrick told the old man as they turned to leave. “Our aunts and uncles at the estate could use a few themselves.”

Soon, the group was inside the Grisly Bog. The place stank even worse than the town, but Rodrick liked bringing his victims here for the privacy. If they got lucky, they might even stumble upon a Yellow beast for dessert later.

Delving a little deeper into the swamp, the group stopped once the stench had grown too foul to stomach. The locals were already sobbing by now. At this point, even the new girl seemed to have noticed something was wrong, as she kept asking all sorts of questions.

“My lords, what is this opportunity exactly? Why did you bring us in this dreaded swamp of all places?”

“Just shut up already!” Bessinda snapped, actively holding herself back from slapping the girl. She knew better than to mess with Rodrick’s meal.

“Take your clothes off.” Sarin commanded, sounding a little too eager.

Rodrick didn’t exactly blame the boy. If they were going to kill these peasants, what was the harm in having a little fun with them first? They’d even get to live a few minutes longer. It was a win-win.

All three of the commoners flinched back at Sarin’s command, hesitation flashing in their eyes. The two locals looked at each other, probably considering whether to try fighting for their lives. Though their faces sank a second later, as they knew they were no match for the nobles. Letting themselves die quietly was the best they could do for their loved ones back home.

As for the new girl, she appeared even more scared than the others. Her hands trembled as she finally realised what a great “opportunity” this was. Still, none of them stripped. Just when Sarin was about to force them, a shrill cry pierced the gloomy ambiance of the bog.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“KRAAA!!”