Chapter 27: Aftermath

An Artos knight drove the cold tip of his iron spear downward, piercing the chest of a writhing, downed goblin and pinning it to the blood-slick dirt. He yanked the shaft free with a practiced flick, leaving the square in total, heavy silence, save for the labored breathing of battle-weary men.

Across the dirt road, the Sterling knights collapsed against the rotting wooden walls of the cottages, wiping black gore from their visors. Decklan leaned heavily against a stone post, his chest heaving as he nursed his arm, while Collin moved swiftly through the ranks to check on their injured.

Kerwin sheathed his broadsword, his gaze sweeping over the squad of Northern horsemen as they methodically secured the perimeter. Watching their cold, economical movements, Kerwin couldn't help but admire their raw martial discipline. 

The Northerners live up to their reputation, he thought silently. Hardy, fierce, and utterly merciless in battle.

The red-haired female knight dismounted, her silver plate armor clinking softly as she approached the Sterling patrol alongside two of her men. Her visor was raised, exposing a sharp, dirt-streaked face.

"Are you and your men all right?" she asked, her voice calm and steady despite the carnage around them.

"We're alive, thanks to your timely arrival," Kerwin replied, offering a stiff, respectful nod. "If your charge had come a moment later, we would have been overrun. You have House Sterling's gratitude.. uh, Ser?"

Before she could reply, her expression shifted into one of sharp, absolute military deference. She immediately snapped to attention and bowed her head low.

Surprised by the sudden gesture, Kerwin turned around.

Riding slowly past the lines of Northern cavalry came a tall young man atop a magnificent black warhorse. He was draped in fine clothing and high-grade dark robes trimmed with silk, worn over tailored armor that bore no marks of dirt or blood. 

Kerwin noted the young man's striking silver hair catching the sun and a pair of piercing, golden eyes that swept over the corpses with cool, detached calculation.

Kerwin searched his memory. He didn't recognize the youth at first glance.

"My Lord Edric," the silver-armored knight addressed him, keeping her head bowed respectfully. "The village is secured. The threat has been eliminated."

Kerwin’s breath caught slightly in his throat as the name clicked. Lord Edric?

Kerwin had seen the young heir of House Artos a handful of times years ago during rare diplomatic visits, but he knew his reputation intimately. Southern court rumors had always painted Edric as a fat, soft, hedonistic boy who spent his days indulged in Northern luxury. 

But the man sitting atop the warhorse before him was far from it. He was tall, sharp-featured, fit, and carried an undeniable, quiet presence of authority that commanded the square without saying a word.

Gathering his composure, Kerwin stepped forward and offered a deep, formal bow. "I am Ser Kerwin Oars, Captain of House Sterling's knights. We are deeply indebted to House Artos for your intervention."

Edric looked down at the veteran knight from his mount, his expression completely flat and unamused.

"Your gratitude does little to offset my displeasure," Edric replied, his voice smooth, even, and entirely devoid of warmth. "We encountered a scattering of these miserable vermin along the main road that dared to cross our path. I was forced to divert a third of my forces to investigate, leaving my primary supply convoy vulnerable on the open highway."

Kerwin stiffened slightly beneath his armor, a flash of quiet indignity stirring in his chest. So the rumors of his arrogant nature were true after all.

Yet, knowing the debt of blood owed to the young lord, Kerwin swallowed his pride and bowed his head lower. "Forgive us, Lord Edric. You speak the truth, and I apologize for causing your forces delay."

Edric dismissed the apology with a faint, imperceptible shift of his reins, his golden eyes locking onto the massive, jagged sinkhole in the center of the square. "Tell me, Captain. What happened here?"

Before Kerwin could speak, Collin stepped up alongside his commander, his chest still heaving from the exertion. "My Lord, we were investigating this abandoned village when a horde of goblins suddenly burst out from below and attacked us!"

The silver-armored knight, Serah, furrowed her brow, glancing back at the dark chasm. "Goblins? Attacking in broad daylight?" She shook her head, genuine confusion in her tone. "Goblins are cowardly creatures by nature. They never attack in the open."

Kerwin looked toward the yawning pit, his brow furrowed as he recalled the sheer desperation in the creatures' eyes.

"That is normally the case, ser. But.." Kerwin said grimly, his tone lowering. "These ones didn't seem bloodlusted, they were desperately trying to get away from something."

Edric raised a single eyebrow, his golden eyes narrowing as he considered Kerwin's words.

"Fleeing?" Edric repeated, his voice smooth and unimpressed. "You expect me to believe a swarm of vermin broke daylight because they were... frightened?"

"They ignored our blades entirely just to reach the surface incline, my Lord," Kerwin explained, keeping his posture firm despite the young noble's condescending tone. "When my men and I descended into the aquifer below, we found the water table completely drained. Bone dry. And carved into the stone perimeter were dozens of freshly bored tunnels covered in massive, uniform claw marks."

Serah looked between the gaping sinkhole and her lord, her sharp brow furrowing. "A subterranean predator large enough to hollow out rock... driving native hordes out of their burrows?"

Edric remained silent, his leather-gloved fingers resting lightly on his reins. A cold, calculating stillness washed over his sharp features as he stared down into the pitch-black chasm. For a brief second, something unreadable flickered across his golden eyes, not fear, but a sudden, dark recognition.

He didn't share his thoughts. Instead, he pulled his reins, turning his warhorse back toward the northern road.

"Whatever skitters in the dark beneath your soil is a matter for Duke Sterling to answer," Edric said coldly, his tone shutting down any further speculation. "My concern is reaching your capital without further interruption."

Kerwin exchanged a brief glance with Collin before stepping forward. The veteran knight knew his men were battered, their mana spent, and the roads between Fallcreek and the capital were no longer safe.

"My Lord Edric," Kerwin called out respectfully. "If you are heading toward the capital, please allow my company to ride with your vanguard. We know these roads well. We can ensure your primary convoy reaches Rosehall without any further delays."

Edric looked back over his shoulder, sweeping his eyes over the bloodied, weary Rosehall knights. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escaped him, but he didn't refuse.

"Very well, Captain," Edric replied, shifting his gaze back to the open road ahead. "Try not to slow us down."

"At once my Lord," Kerwin answered. "Mount up. We’re moving."

The Rosehall knights didn't waste time complaining. Though battered, bruised, and thoroughly exhausted, they operated with the quiet efficiency of men who had survived too many close calls to dally in a death trap. 

Collin quickly bound a deep slash on a young guardsman's forearm with a strip of linen, while Decklan, still pale from channeling so much mana, was helped onto his mount by two archers.

The southern riders filed out of Fallcreek’s ruined square, leaving the dust-choked sinkhole and the bloody pile of goblin corpses behind. 

As they crested the northern rise and merged onto the main highway, Kerwin’s eyes swept over the Northern convoy waiting on the road below.

A modest column stretched along the highway, centered around a handful of heavy supply wagons stamped with the coiled-serpent seal of House Artos.

As they drew closer, Collin leaned over slightly, lowering his voice. "Look at the footmen lining the wagons, Commander. They don't seem like Knights."

Kerwin observed them closely. While Serah and sixteen other mounted riders sat tall in full, polished plate armor, the two dozen men marching on foot alongside the caravan wore a uniformed, simple, leather armor over plain linen tunics. They carried simple wooden shields and long spears as they marched.

Though their eyes showed an unmistakable nervousness, they marched in an incredibly disciplined manner, much to Kerwin's surprise.

Green foot soldiers, Kerwin thought. Are they conscripted commoners?

As the Sterling company rode alongside the procession, one particular vehicle near the center of the column caught Kerwin's eye.

Unlike the standard supply carts, this was a colossal, heavy-duty ironwood wagon pulled by six massive draft horses. 

It was completely draped in thick canvas, reinforced with heavy iron chains tightly locked around the frame. It sat so low to the ground that the wooden wheels creaked and groaned under immense weight with every turn of the axle.

Intrigued, Kerwin nudged his horse forward, breaking ranks slightly to get a closer look at what could possibly require such security.

Before he could get within ten paces, a silver-armored warhorse cut cleanly across his path, blocking his approach.

Serah sat tall in her saddle, her visor raised, her expression calm but resolute.

"I must ask you to keep your distance, Captain," Serah said smoothly, placing a hand lightly over her reins. "Lord Edric's orders regarding the convoy's cargo are absolute."

Kerwin pulled his reins, bringing his mount to a halt. "Just curious, Ser. That's a heavy load for a diplomatic trip."

"It is official business of House Artos," Serah replied, offering a polite yet unyielding nod. She gestured toward the open road ahead of the vanguard. "Since you know these lands well, your assistance out front would be of far greater value. Take the lead, Captain, and guide our way to Rosehall."

Kerwin held her gaze for a beat before returning the respectful nod. "Understood."

He signaled to Collin and his squad, wheeling his horse around to take their place at the very head of the Northern column. Collin rode up beside his commander, leaning in slightly as their horses matched strides on the dusty highway.

"Chained down with iron?" Collin muttered under his breath, casting a subtle glance back toward the mysterious wagon over his shoulder. "What do you reckon they're hauling in there, Commander? Siege engines? Gold?"

"Whatever it is, it's heavy enough to crack axles, and the young lord wants it kept under wraps," Kerwin replied quietly, keeping his gaze fixed on the road ahead. 

"Keep your eyes on the treeline, Collin. We must report everything to his Grace." The verteran knigh continued.

"Understood, Captain," Collin grunted, adjusting his sword belt. "Though if you ask me, whatever is under that tarp, it can't be anything good."

Kerwin didn't answer, but as he looked down the long, dry road toward the distant spires of Rosehall, he couldn't help but feel that the true storm was only just beginning.