[Chapter 14 - Beyond the Wall]

  Fort Greywatch was a castrum legionis, or a legionary fortress as Ante had explained.

  For an encampment that was “more for staging attacks and consolidating territorial control”, it boasted an impressive array of defenses.

  Its stone wall, although nowhere near as imposing as the Northgaardian pass we had left that morning, stretched out for several hundred metres atop a huge earthen mound that had clearly been raised by Atreian hands.

  A moat also lined its front, whilst the two pairs of thick wooden doors that stood open were set into a bulky stone gatehouse.

  This was the home of the ninety-sixth legion, one that had been rendered by its location beyond the wall.

  Ante had drawn it out during one of the few rest breaks we were given, tracing a small map into the dirt to help explain the area nearby.

  From the small circle he had scratched onto the floor, he etched crude lines outwards with the stick he had found.

  “So this is Fort Greywatch,” he tapped at the circle with the branch, “which is around twenty miles from Northgaard as the officer said.”

  I noted the long line below, a representation of the pass and mountain range as it pathed its way unevenly across.

  And then he continued by marking several smaller circles some distance away from the first.

  “Whereas these are the Silversong mines, the reason Atreia built this outpost in the first place. Over here,” he dotted a few cross marks that formed a loose perimeter around the shapes he had drawn, “well… around this area at least, they've set up a bunch of watchtowers to keep an eye out for anything that might come close.”

  “Monsters.” Roxas reminded. “That’s the only thing out here.”

  From the way they spoke it seemed to be common knowledge, and I looked at the distance between the first circle and the long line.

  Despite its short length on the map it had taken us over six hours to arrive.

  Twenty miles, just as Ante had reiterated, or twenty thousand paces as the officer had also referred to it as.

  I was not certain that the miles in Arithea corresponded to those back on Earth, but the exhaustion I had felt rid me of my ability to properly determine whether that was the case.

  My journey to Northgaard, whilst much longer, had been nowhere near as tiring, and any marvel I had at the scenery, at the ridiculous enormity of the stone wall that had spanned the pass above me as I left, quickly vanished beneath the fatigue that built up.

  Crushed by the pack that weighed down upon my shoulder, held aloft only by the long wooden pole in my hand.

  The furca as it had been called.

  But the use of Latin by the Atreians had not been lost on me.

  It had been the same as we marched, a chorus of “dex, sin, dex, sin” chanted in rhythmic unison as we placed one foot in front of the other.

  Its presence was fascinating, and it made me wonder what links with Earth Arithea had in the first place.

  What links had led to the presence of the language here, and whether that was related as to why the doors existed as portals between the two realities.

  A quiet chime interrupted my thoughts.

  A gentle sound, but one which was at odds with the woodland and sweaty panting that was all I could hear around me.

  Accompanied along with it by a glow which emanated from my pouch.

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  I shifted the pilum from my left hand to my right, struggling to grasp both handles at once as I balanced the pack perched on my shoulder.

  With my now-free hand I reached in, pulling out the culprit from the pouch at my waist.

  It was my military identification, my signaculum.

  I just about managed to catch the fading glow of the fresh tally which rendered the number by my [Stamina] category to be a slightly more satisfying XXXIII.

  If Vin’s words were anything to go by, that meant I had only just exceeded the standard of a professional soldier in this world.

  At least when it came to stamina.

  Even after all that heavy marching.

  “Underestimating me much, Vin?” I muttered as a small smile formed upon my mouth.

  I managed to glean some more information from Ante as we trudged endlessly on.

  Afterall, apart from trees, mud and mountains there was little else that we encountered.

  “Outworlders. You said that they go crazy, that they can’t resist the urge to kill in order to ascend. Ascend to… what exactly?”

  Another question that was encountered by a confused look, one that Ante just about managed as he struggled under his bag.

  “I know you’re not from here,” he stopped to take a deep gasp of air, making out his words in between laboured breaths, “but I’m surprised you don’t even know about that.”

  “They’re not as…” I paused in turn, trying to think of a convincing response, “common from where I’m from. Outworlders I mean. We don’t deal with them very much.”

  That was not exactly a lie, to be fair.

  “Demonhood.” he said. “Outworlders kill as offerings to the kings. Kill enough, or be deemed worthy enough, and they can become demons themselves.”

  “But the False Hero killed the demon king first. How could he ascend if the king was already dead?”

  Ante shrugged.

  “Perhaps he wanted the throne?”

  I stopped myself from prying further.

  There was so much more I wanted to know, but I did not want to underscore my ignorance nor be so eager to draw suspicion, even if my conversation was only directed to the twins.

  But that did not stop the endless string of questions that ran through my mind.

  What would make Outworlders want to become demons?

  And why would my brother want to do the same?

  His diary had made no mention of this desire, no indication to show that he had even had knowledge of it, let alone a wanting of that fate for himself.

  The boy is not entirely wrong. The wolf seemed to stifle a yawn. But you do not need to fear the curse.

  Did that… curse take my brother?

  It takes all Outworlders.

  So why not me?

  Because I’m here. Another smirk. It seemed to almost characterise his damn voice.

  ***

  When we finally stopped, exhausted panting prohibited any exclamations of relief we could muster.

  All we could do was focus on our breathing.

  The same attitude however, could not have been said for our officer who stood at the front.

  He watched us all with a grin, an expression I had grown tired of from my constant dealings with the wolf.

  “You have one hour for lunch,” he exclaimed, “be late and I’ll make you walk laps when we get back.”

  “When we get… back?” One of the recruits spoke out his uncertainty.

  He was clearly young, and had his hands on his knees to help relieve his fatigue. His head on the other hand was raised high, with a concerned look plastered across his face.

  The officer’s smile only broadened further.

  “We’ll be marching back to Northgaard for dinner.”

  Those words brought several recruits to the floor. I could almost hear the tears that it evoked.

  “You’re fucking kidding me.” Roxas groaned. She did nothing to hide her audible frustration. “And we have to do this shit for… how long?”

  “Four months.” The smile now reached the officer’s eyes, as if deaf to the cries that were almost shed by the soldiers-in-training, or else obtaining his glee from their despair.

  I could not help but look away in order to disguise my own smile which lifted the corners of my mouth.

  I was tired, I could not deny that, but the similarity of the reactions of the recruits to when I had first started on Earth was all too uncanny to not find amusing.

  Boredom and exhaustion from drills comprised the majority of military life. Here it did not seem to be any different, but that likely explained one of the reasons as why the Atreians had been so successful in their aggression.

  Rigorous repetition engrained experience into them, and the efficiency of this in military prowess was illustrated by how they had taken a city as supposedly impenetrable as Northgaard had been.

  The recruits would be thankful for this endless training when the time came for combat. It would save their life more times than they would know, just as it had for me before I came here.

  Not that even I at that time would have known, that the war would come as soon as it did.

  Or that the incident which would ignite it would only be a few days away.