The platoon marched towards the marquisate. The silence that hovered over the hills was broken only by the creak of the boots on the dry earth. Since the massacre of the first village, a dark routine repeated itself: after each looting, the guards who led the troop gathered the women young and the virgin women, leaving strange symbols marked in the ruins. The ashes, the blood, and those marks were all that remained.
Time advanced without mercy. On the twenty-eighth day of the eighth month of 2035, it was completed a week since the declaration of war of Count Caeté against the Marquisate of the West. The enemy troops approached the last village before the walls, while, on the other side, the count already moved his pieces over the board of war.
"Kael?" Brianna broke the silence, the voice loaded with frustration. "Could it be that they are well? It has already been a week since this war began and we still had no news."
Kael kept the calm tone, showing caution.
"We are a newly formed group, Brianna. This is our first campaign. So, normally, we do not have news from the vanguard. What worries me are the movements of the count. It has already been a while that I do not feel any agitation in the districts above."
Brianna frowned, disgust stamped on the face.
"I really feel frustrated. Did they not find us fit just because I am a woman and you are blind? Even so, we had one of the best scores in the test."
"That was always a possibility," Kael answered, without being shaken. "Instead of us losing in complaints, it is better to begin the second part of the plan."
His words opened space for memories that still burned alive in their minds.
Flashback: Eight days before the war. Heavy night, suffocating, in inn.
The news of the massacre golden breeze ran faster than the wind. Murmurs spread through the tables, and the tension hovered in the air like an invisible blade.
One of the guards who accompanied Brianna and her group had gone out moments before, when the confusion began outside.
"What is happening?" asked a mercenary, restless, seeing the commotion.
Another entered through the door, desperate, with the face pale with fear.
"You will not believe… The brothel of the district was massacred! The guards are hunting the guilty ones, they say they will search all the houses. Anyone without alibi will be taken!"
The heart of Brianna raced. A nervous smile appeared on her lips, disguising the panic.
"Tell me that this has nothing to do with Ereon…"
Telvaris, serious as always, crossed the arms.
"It cannot be coincidence. So… do you have something to say, Kael?"
Kael arched the lips in a sarcastic smile.
"You speak as if I were the babysitter of Ereon. Know that, even if I wanted, I would not be able to stop him."
Karna interrupted, straight:
"It is better that we go up to the rooms. If they catch us here, it will not be good."
"Go up," ordered Brianna, breathing deep.
While the boys withdrew, she approached the owner of the inn. Enchanted by the silver hair and white eyes of the young woman, the man almost lost the speech when Brianna leaned and, with sweet voice, whispered:
"The guard who was at that table rented a room. As you can see, I am well accompanied by some young men… so I would like to ask a favor."
"I… I do not understand where you want to arrive…" he murmured, hesitant.
Brianna left a leather pouch over the counter. The jingling of the thirty silver coins filled the air.
"I am thinking of having some fun with them. I would like not to be disturbed. Can you understand?" she finished with a seductive smile.
The owner, hypnotized as much by the shine in the eyes as by the weight of the pouch, only nodded with the head.
Brianna then climbed the stairs with firm steps, opened the door of the room with fury and froze for an instant.
Ereon was there, seated at the window, motionless like a shadow. The silence that took over the room seemed to suffocate, until Kael decided to break it:
"Since we are all here… apart from the incidents of today, I think we should begin to trace our plan for what will come."
Brianna breathed deep, still staring at Ereon. Then, she diverted the look to the rest of the group.
"Proceed, Kael."
Kael adjusted himself and began to explain, firm voice:
"The county is divided into three districts, each one protected by its walls. Bronze, Silver, and Gold. The district of Bronze houses workers and common mercenaries; the Silver, knights and nobles of low status; and the Gold… there reside the count, the most influential nobles and the knights of elite."
The group listened with attention, each word engraved like an oath.
Telvaris was the first to break the silence:
"It will not be easy at all to approach the count."
"Exactly. And if all territory follows this logic, to bring down the marquisate will be even more complicated." Brianna added, somber. "This war may last more than we imagine."
Karna raised the eyebrow.
"So we will give up?"
Kael denied with firmness.
"No. But we must be prepared. Depending on how will be the selection for the vanguard, maybe some of us will stay behind. If that happens, whoever stays must find breaches in the two remaining walls."
Their destiny was sealed that night — even if no one had the courage to say it aloud.
The dust rose under the heavy boots when the platoon finally stopped, at the edges of a road that wound until the last village before the walls. The sun was already hiding behind the hills, dyeing the sky blood-red.
One of the guards of the vanguard raised the arm, ordering silence.
"We will camp here until the night sets." His voice was harsh, cold. "As soon as the darkness falls, we will march against the village. There will be no survivor."
Restless murmurs spread among the mercenaries. Some sharpened blades, others smiled like beasts about to sniff blood.
Telvaris narrowed the eyes.
"So that is it… they will attack under the cloak of the night."
Karna clenched the fists, not hiding the disdain.
"To call this war is insult. This is massacre."
Ereon remained silent, observing the horizon. The breeze carried the smell of the burned wood of the previous villages. His eyes, reflecting the last thread of light of the dusk, did not blink.
"The night will show of what we are made," he said at last, the voice low, almost a whisper.
As soon as the night set, the vanguard prepared to attack the last village. Mercenaries and men who, at the beginning of the campaign, carried fear and hesitation, now exhibited a sickly shine in the eyes, inflamed by the desire to plunder and to spill the blood of innocents.
But that village would not be like the others.
The atmosphere of the forest began to become suffocating, dense, as if the very night breathed with them. Some, gifted with sharper senses, felt the weight of something invisible approaching from their backs — a cold in the spine that reminded of the inevitable presence of death.
Karna, frowning, raised the hand in alert:
"Something dangerous is approa—"
His voice was interrupted by the dry sound of blades cutting flesh. Two mercenaries fell before even understanding what had happened.
The heads rolled over the ground covered with leaves, and when the eyes of the group turned to the origin of the attack, they sighted her.
A young woman of imposing presence revealed herself under the moonlight. Her pink hair, tied in a long braid, oscillated like a living flame. The blue eyes shone with the purity of innocence, but burned with the firmness of conviction. The steel armor shone with ancient symbols engraved on its surface, and at the waist, the sword forged in honor to the goddess Brynhildr reflected the promise of blood.
A pink band swayed at her waist, childhood memory — cruel contrast with the thirst of war that overflowed from her aura.
With an authoritative tone that silenced the forest, she declared:
"I am Isabela Brynhildr, the Valkyrie of the Marquisate of the West. Engrave this name in your minds, for it will be the last thing you will hear. For the massacres you committed, do not expect to leave this forest alive."
One of the mercenaries, wielding an axe, advanced with a smile of disdain:
"Little girl… the battlefield was not made for women. For five years I serve in territorial wars, and the only women I saw in combat were the ones who lay under our bodies."
The laughs echoed through the band, diluting for an instant the weight of the tension. He continued, with the lustful look fixed on her:
"Looking good, you even have a pretty face. Why do you not drop that sword and take off that armor? I guarantee that we can have fun…"
Before he completed the phrase, his head was torn off in a single movement. The silence returned with even more force.
The decapitated body fell, and the low voice of Isabela cut the night:
"Circle of Judgment."
Flames rose around the vanguard, forming a wall of fire that illuminated the terrified faces of the mercenaries.
"There is no escape," she said, her sword pointing to the heart of the crowd.
The flames closed in circle, swallowing screams and steel. The blade of Isabela sparkled in the light of the fire. Her every move took lives reaping lives as if the very goddess of war had descended to the earth.
Telvaris stepped back, eyes wide.
"What… what is she?"
Karna clenched the fists, the cold sweat dripping down the forehead.
"She is not a simple soldier."
Ereon kept the gaze fixed on her the young warrior, the eyes half-closed, the voice low and loaded with seriousness.
"Valkyrie… and we fell straight into her judgment."