"Follow the coastline south" was easier said than done.
Less than half a day after leaving their temporary camp, the endless stretch of white sand gave way to muddy flats. Beyond them rose a steep cliff, cutting the shoreline short. After climbing the ridge behind it, the coast changed again, turning into a maze of dark green reefs slick with moss and sea spray.
To avoid straying too far inland, Aldric and Kevin were forced to detour repeatedly through dense forest, doubling back again and again. Progress was slow and exhausting. After nearly a week of this, on the afternoon of the sixth day, Aldric finally spotted something unnatural on the distant shore.
A cluster of dilapidated wooden huts.
The sight of human construction—however poor—sent a wave of relief through him. The tension that had gripped his mind for days loosened all at once.
He laughed aloud. "Ah—hahaha! We've finally found people! Kevin, do you think they'll give us a warm welcome?"
Kevin's face lit up just as brightly. "Of course they will! It's an honor for them to host a noble knight like you in such a small village. And according to the sacred laws of hospitality, as long as we eat our host's salt and bread, neither side may harm the other. We've brought our own food, so we won't even burden them. They have no reason not to welcome us."
Hearing this, Aldric raised an eyebrow. "Is it really that simple in your land?"
Kevin looked puzzled. "Is it not the same in your homeland?"
For a moment, Aldric felt the urge to tell him about the Feast at Hong Gate—the hidden sword in the fish, the axemen waiting outside the tent. After a brief hesitation, he decided against it. There was no need to taint the boy's expectations just yet.
He fell silent and continued toward the village.
They were almost there when Aldric suddenly stopped.
"Kevin," he said quietly, his tone dropping, "I don't think anyone will be welcoming us today."
"Huh?"
Kevin's gaze slid past Aldric's shoulder.
A body lay sprawled at the entrance to the village. The man wore tattered clothes, and a dark pool of dried blood had soaked into the dirt beneath him.
Aldric crouched and turned the body over. The dead man was old—perhaps sixty—with thinning gray hair and skin hardened by years of labor. Calloused hands, a bent spine, a frame worn down by survival rather than age.
His wide, staring eyes and open mouth told of intense suffering.
Pulling aside the blood-soaked tunic, Aldric found the fatal wound: a single puncture driven clean through the chest. He could not identify the weapon, but the precision of the strike left no doubt. Whoever had done this knew exactly how to kill.
Aldric straightened, passed his shield and short sword to Kevin, and drew his two-handed longsword.
"Stay back," he said. "Follow behind me."
Kevin accepted the weapons. His palms were damp with sweat, but his voice held steady.
"Yes, Ser."
An unarmed old man lay dead at the village gate, unburied. Beyond him, the settlement was silent.
That alone was enough to tell Aldric something was terribly wrong.
He advanced down the road.
Dozens of bodies lay scattered along both sides—men, women, children, the elderly. Some had crushed skulls. Others bled from their mouths. A few had been cut clean in half, their entrails spilled into the dirt.
Kevin staggered aside and retched.
Aldric did not.
Instead, something hot and suffocating burned in his chest. His face felt flushed, but he had nowhere to vent the anger building inside him.
This was not a battlefield. It was not war.
This was a village massacre.
Every house along the road stood open, doors broken, interiors ransacked. In the largest home, Aldric found a young woman stripped naked and bound to a post. Her legs were spread, her feet nailed to a bench. Filth covered her body.
He approached slowly.
Her eyes had been gouged out. Blood crusted her face. She had been dead for some time.
At her feet lay a child—no more than two years old. Blood seeped from his nose and ears. Aldric could not bring himself to examine him further.
He cut the woman's bindings, lifted her gently onto a nearby bed, and placed the child beside her. An old blanket was pulled over them both.
Only then did he step back, resting his weight on his sword. His hands clenched around the hilt until his veins stood out.
What crime could a woman barely twenty have committed?
What sin could a child who could hardly speak deserve to die for?
What kind of people did this?
Behind him, Kevin spoke quietly. "Ser… I checked. The people outside were all fishermen." His voice dried out. "This was pirates."
Aldric nodded. "Are there many pirates in the North?"
"I'm not sure," Kevin said after thinking. "Back on the Fingers, we sometimes encountered raiders from the North. My father always said they were savages."
Can things like this even be called human?
Aldric did not answer aloud.
"Go get the wheelbarrow."
"Yes, Ser."
Kevin had hidden it in the brush outside the village in case of danger. He ran to retrieve it.
By the time he returned, Aldric had already carried the woman's body outside, still wrapped in the tattered blanket.
"Bring all the bodies here," Aldric said. "Just pile them."
They worked in silence.
Thirty-two bodies in total.
Once they were gathered, Aldric removed his armor, replaced the handle of his mining pick with a thick branch, and began digging.
Kevin watched, confused.
Ser Aldric had never met these people. He had no ties to them. If it were his father or uncle, they would have looted the village and left before the corpses rotted.
"Ser," Kevin finally asked, "why are you doing this? It doesn't benefit you at all."
Aldric didn't pause. "No reason. I want to. I can. So I will."
Kevin said nothing more and began digging alongside him.
Hour after hour passed.
When the pit was deep enough, they lowered the bodies inside, arranging them carefully. The dirt was shoveled back in, forming a broad mound.
Kevin wiped his brow. "Do you think wild dogs will dig them up?"
"I don't know," Aldric said. "Do what you can. Leave the rest to fate."
Afterward, Aldric studied the mound.
"It feels like something's missing."
He turned to Kevin. "What gods do people worship here?"
"The Seven," Kevin said. "But prayers for the dead are done by septons… The North worships the Old Gods."
Aldric sighed. "Forget it. I'll do it myself."
He shaved three thin splinters of wood, lit them, and planted them before the grave. As green smoke curled upward, he recited softly, in the language of his homeland…
Kevin did not understand the words, but he bowed his head and prayed silently to the Stranger.
When it was over, Aldric stood there a long time.
The dead could not hear.
But something inside him had eased.
"Let's go," he said at last.
They left before night fully fell.
The forest swallowed them in silence.
And somewhere ahead, someone was running.