Before the drunkard's arrival, it had been a small feast at the camp. Voices echoing all around, men biting into flesh and drinking from cups.
The joy in the air was undeniable, life being enjoyed to the fullest, but then he had come and it was his jolly and unique dressing that silenced the mouths of the savage men.
The silence in the air breathed an atmosphere of tension, smiles of anticipation on several faces at what was to come, then the old man gulped from his jug and transformed from a prey to a demon of fire.
Fire, which had once been a source of warmth and light, turned to a beast looking to devour.
Full of fright, men stood from their seats looking to flee. The sight of their colleagues who had been closer being set on fire birthed a frightening terror in their hearts.
Turning around, everyone felt like they had a chance of escaping the flames.
It was just one man, they told themselves, but as they quickly moved their feet, from up in the sky, fire fell, dropping like rain onto bodies and setting them ablaze.
Goington was on a rampage. At the moment, he did not think, he had already done so at the beginning. He knew what needed to be done.
After the first wave, as the alcohol in his mouth ran out, he threw his head up, his upper body following, took in a deep breath and then he spat out, his stomach regurgitating a fermented liquid, one highly flammable.
First, Goington increased the temperature of the already raging fire around him, then, as the flames rose into the air, he spat at the rising tips, causing fire to fall down from the sky.
As the time the old man finished spitting all that was in his stomach, he had the big jug in hand, and he did not hesitate to begin downing from it.
Though he had lived till just the age of 30, Alexander had seen a lot in his life, most especially during his campaign across the known world.
The young conqueror had thought he was prepared for whatever might come his way, but the sight before him left his eyes widening, his jaws threatening to fall.
Before Alexander's eyes, the drunkard he had been travelling with for the past two days had transformed into some sort of flame spirit.
With an agenda in mind, Goington unceasingly spat out flames. He first set ablaze the ground and those on it, making approaching him impossible; then, for those trying to flee, he made it rain fire.
The situation had changed faster than Alexander had been prepared for.
Unlike Goington, who noticed the slaves and the wagon which housed the females only after stepping into the midst of the enemy, Alexander had spotted them much earlier.
While Goington's mind lagged some, in the end, just like Alexander's, it quickly concluded that these were the slavers he had warned the people of Beckle of.
A group of people with slaves and on the path which led to Beckle, who else could they be.
Alexander had thought Goington, upon realization of the situation he was in, would turn and try to run away, these definitely being the reaction from a drunk, but instead, the man had gone on a suicide mission.
At the rate Goington was going, especially with how wild he was, Goington risked trapping himself in the flames he was creating.
"How do I help him?"
The slavers had built their camp to stretch across the land, and now, while a significant portion of it was being bathed in flames, a much larger portion of the camp was intact, and it was here the wagon which imprisoned the slaves was placed.
Alexander considered setting them free, but Goignton was more of a priority to him.
Keeping out of sight among the trees, Alexnader advanced, moving closer to the camp, coming in from the side, but then he heard a loud, powerful shout and came to a stop.
Alexander's mind rapidly went to his dreams, the image of a tall man coming to mind, and immediately, the white-haired boy's priority changed.
"He has to die."
Looking away from the fiery spectacle Goington was creating, Alexander turned to the direction the powerful shout had come from and approached.
He did not cut into the camp, but rather approached through the forest, moving the bushes as silently as he could while keeping his eyes peeled.
Alexander was still in motion when the sight of the tall man came into his view.
Stopping in his tracks, he narrowed his eyes, looking at the face of the man meters away, and sweeping his surroundings, moved towards the camp.
"I need a weapon."
Scampering forward, not shy to crawl at instances, Alexander reached the back of a tent.
Peeking from around it, he ground his teeth as he saw that the man was walking away and quickly moving towards Goington's position.
"There is no time to waste. It's just a few steps."