The top of the food chain is a lonely place. For centuries, Arden Janelle had been an alpha predator, the hound at the head of the pack. No one in Scara Brae heard the name Silent Swordsman without a shiver running down their back. Try as he might, to turn a leaf and lend a hand to reshaping the world to be a better place for all he could never quite escape his past.

“It’s a good day to die,” Leopold muttered under his breath to Arden’s left.

The swordsman flinched, the pious words pulling him out of his reflective daydream. He scanned the horizon, a barren hinterland between the northern mountains and the southern woodland barony. No sign of the enemy raised his hackles. No hint of conflict moved his hand instinctively to the hilt of his blade.

“I wouldn’t hedge your bets just yet old friend.”

“You’ve heard the stories, right?” The merchant raised an eyebrow, trying to hide his growing sense of dread with an inquisitive expression.

“You’ve never struck me as the sort of man that believes in fairy tales.”

“Flaming demons, Arden. Flaming bastard demons here on our island.”

Of more importance than the nature of their would-be conquerors was the rumour of whom lead them to war. It had been less than a year since the war mongered William Arcus had returned to the city and he and Ruby had given him a more than formidable warning to never return. He remembered the sun on his back and the stares from the other patrons of the quaint little tea room in which the bittersweet reunion had transpired. The smell of the furnace and the sound of hammers ringing as he had forged the man his trinket and bid him on his way a song of dread in his heart. He knew what that artefact could do, and yet it paled in comparison to the destruction the former captain of the Ixian Knights could unleash.

“You stand amongst the finest men and women of the Scara Braen military. We will triumph here today and prove to the world that we are done being pawns in other people’s wars.” He didn’t quite believe his words, but they carried weight enough to ease Leopold’s worries. The merchant loosened up and continued scanning the battlefield through the green tinted lens of his steampunk marksman goggles.

Behind the duo a thousand men and women stood stoic and lifeless. Statuesque, the Knights of Brae and the contingent of archers and pikemen at the rear fought against the rising darkness within. They had fought men and monsters metaphorically, cruel people who used blades to carve legacies in time. But to stand against true creatures, feral flame hounds and titanic ogres wreathed in conflagration…nothing could prepare them for this, not even the unbreakable, unshakeable faith in their duty. The growing silence was broken by the sound of vomiting and whispered prayers. Vows to defend the queen and return home safe to families permeated the dull roar of the dancing breeze that covered the plains ephemeral. Companions patted shoulders and pulled back hair until the line fell once again into a steel bulwark of defiance.