Embedded Files
Chapter 7
Chapter 7
"Comrades, I have to tell you something."
Kindred’s voice carried across the ruined camp. One by one, the soldiers gathered around the campfire—the only thing the raiders had left untouched. All around them, workers labored to rebuild the shattered base. Fresh mounds of earth marked where the fallen recruits now lay, but no burial, no fire, no speech could dull the sting of their loss.
When the men had settled, the general spoke again.
“Our morals… our code… has been tarnished,” he said quietly. “And not by our enemies.” His gaze drifted across the circle—seasoned officers returning from distant missions, wide-eyed recruits scarcely recovered from the siege, and others who already suspected what he was about to say.
“It was done by our own comrades…” Kindred paused, letting the words settle like ash in the wind. “And by our own king.”
A ripple of shock passed through the regiment. Crescentia rose at once, her face unreadable, and slipped into the night.
While the others resumed their uneasy training, a stranger stepped into the camp—tall, sharp-featured, clad in black from boots to collar.
“Greetings, General,” the man said, bowing his head. “I was sent by Duke Adrien to investigate the recent incident. I am Sir Gabriel, of the Black Valkyrie Regiment.”
“General Kindred, of the Red Blood Regiment,” Kindred replied.
Gabriel continued, “I’ve received reports of illegal activity in the caves. Before anything else, might I examine the enemy’s weapons?”
With permission granted, Gabriel accompanied Kindred and Alvin to a chest holding the seized arms. He sifted through them carefully.
“Draseki steel. Dwarven blades,” he murmured. “Common enough. Whoever led this attack took pains to hide their trail.”
He reached deeper and withdrew a cluster of arrows marked with faint green paint. His eyes narrowed.
“We won’t learn their identity from the weapons alone,” Gabriel said. “They were careful—too careful.”
He stepped back from the chest, folding his arms behind him.
“However… I can perform certain organic, dissective observations to determine how your men were killed.” His voice dropped, almost respectful, almost hungry. “I trust, given your years in the Brotherhood, you understand what that means.”
Kindred said nothing. But the fire between them crackled, and its sparks drifted up into the dark—like souls torn from the bodies of the fallen.
Kindred exhaled, long and weary, knowing what must be done. Alvin looked puzzled, not yet grasping Gabriel’s meaning.
“Leave us, Alvin,” the general ordered. The advisor hesitated, more confused than before, but obeyed.
By the graves, Kindred and Gabriel began the grim work. They unearthed the rotting bodies of the fallen guards. The stench was foul enough to choke a horse, yet the task had to be done.
When they pulled free the first corpse, Gabriel bent over the split skull. “An arrow to the head… clean work,” he muttered. He pressed his fingers into the wound, then froze.
“Find something?” Kindred asked.
Gabriel shook his head slowly. “No… it shouldn’t be possible. That shot was too precise. Only an eye sharp as an eagle’s could loose an arrow from that distance.”
“Hm.” Kindred’s voice hardened. “Enough. Put him back before the others notice.”
“But general—this archer fired from eight hundred feet. I don’t underst—”
“I said that’s enough. Bury him.”
Reluctantly, Gabriel complied. They abandoned the autopsy and continued toward the Dwarven caves. Inside, they found only orcish laborers tending their forges—civilians protected by treaty after the war’s end.
“People of the cave,” Kindred announced, “fear not. We’re only here to investigate.”
The regiment swept through every alcove and dwelling. Nothing seemed amiss—until Kindred spotted a narrow opening, half-hidden in the stone. He stooped and crawled through, the others close behind.
Beyond lay a vast, winding tunnel stretching for miles beneath the earth. Torches flared to life as they followed its path—and soon discovered an exit leading to a thicket near the base’s front gate.
Gabriel let out a low breath. “So… this is how the king did it.”
“And why he tried to use us to wipe out the orcs,” Kindred replied darkly. “Only to dispose of us afterward.”
When they returned to camp, word was already spreading: a new queen was poised to depose the old king. The regiment erupted into celebration, many running to the river to swim away their fear and anger.
But Gold, Kindred, and Crescentia lingered behind.
“Cres,” the general said quietly, “I need a word with you… alone.”
They approached the tent in silence. At the entrance, Kindred turned to Gold. “Leave us.”
Gold obeyed without question, slipping back into the camp as the two stepped inside.
“Tell me,” Kindred said, his voice low and steady. “What do you know?”
Crescentia said nothing. She only watched him, her eyes unreadable. She had been present during the chaos, yet she had offered no explanation—not a word, until now. When he finally looked away, she spoke.
“It was the king’s men,” she said. “Dressed in green. A regiment I’ve never seen.”
Her tone was flat, but her eyes warned of darker truths. Kindred drew a slow breath and glanced toward the tent’s opening.
“Crescentia…”
She tilted her head, curious. Whatever he was about to say weighed heavily on him. He looked back at her, studied her face, her eyes—and for a heartbeat, he hesitated.
“Can I trust you?” he asked.
She stared at him, taken aback. This wasn’t the sarcastic, sharp-tongued general she knew. Something earnest had slipped through the armor. Why ask that of her? Why now?
Crescentia stepped closer. For a moment, only the soft rustle of the tent canvas stirred the air. Then she wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a quiet embrace.
Footsteps sounded outside.
“It seems the men are coming,” Kindred murmured.
She froze, then broke away from him just as Ki, Alvin, and several guards entered the tent’s glow. Flushed with embarrassment, Crescentia shifted into her raven form and shot into the night. The regiment stared at Kindred with mischievous smirks.
He chuckled. “Speak of this to no one.”
Night fell over the firepit, the flames flickering against weary faces. Their final mission loomed, and they needed every ounce of readiness the gods might grant.
“Cres,” Kindred called into the darkening sky, “scout the region.”
A raven’s wings beat against the wind as she departed. They waited, tense and armed, until her signal came—three sharp cries echoing across the hills. All clear.
Kindred slung his bow, checked his sword. Crescentia returned briefly, dropping a bundle of her arrows into his hands before circling back into the night.
The regiment formed ranks and marched toward the castle.
“Wait!” Alvin called.
The army halted. Alvin hurried to Kindred’s side, speaking to him in private.
"I've received a letter." Alvin said to Kindred. "She's still Alive. My lover." He continued. As Kindred thought about it, he remembered Alvin's story once of having almost killed his lover. So he replied...
"Very well then. You do not have to fight. I want you to return to your village and-"
"No sir." He said. "My loyalty is to you, and the regiment." Alvin interrupted.
After a sigh, Kindred agreed and they continued on with their journey.
As they stormed the castle, The Gold Regiment - The Knight Regiment of the Kingdom thought this was a coup d'état, so they fought them. The king seemed nowhere to be found, and only the duke was there. An angel guarded the royal family, and all the men seemed to have a hard time pushing through. So Kindred knew that using his sword was pointless. So he pulled out his bow and pulled out an arrow. he aimed for the head of the duke and held his breath. But he noticed something.
The arrow that he was given, the one he's holding...... it had green markings.....
No.....
He quickly yanked the bow away, causing the arrow to hit another direction. he halted the men in fighting and heard the princess say "What are you doing!?"
"The King? Where is he?"
"He left a while ago after your scout told him that an attack was about to happen." She said.
"No...."
Soon, sounds of metal clinging was heard from outside the castle. The red regiment moved out and fought with mercenary soldiers dressed in green armor. During the battle, Kindred quickly went down from the market and into the gates, where they fended off the enemies. As they've won the ambush, Kindred looked to see how many men he had. And as he realized that someone was missing, it was all too late.
"Looking for me?" A familiar voice arrived along with a flap of wings. It was Crescentia, fully dressed in a green armored uniform.
“I’ve received a letter,” Alvin said quietly to Kindred. “She’s alive, my lover.”
Kindred remembered the tale Alvin once told him, of how his own hand had nearly ended the woman’s life. He studied the man’s face, then answered, “Very well. You need not fight. Return to your village and—”
“No, sir,” Alvin cut in. “My loyalty is to you, and to the regiment.”
Kindred sighed, long and weary. “As you wish.” And they pressed on.
When they stormed the castle, the Gold Regiment—the king’s own knights—took them for traitors. Steel rang in the halls as loyalists clashed with Kindred’s men. The king was nowhere to be found; only the duke remained, protected by an angel whose presence turned the battle into a grind of blood and sweat.
Kindred knew his sword would not pierce such a guardian. He drew his bow instead, nocked an arrow, and steadied his breath. His aim fixed on the duke’s brow—until he noticed the markings.
Green.
No…
He jerked the bow aside, loosing the arrow harmlessly into a column. “Stop!” he shouted, halting the fighting. The princess cried out, “What are you doing?”
“Where is the king?”
“He fled,” she said. “Your scout warned him of an attack.”
Kindred felt the truth settle like ice. “No…”
Metal clashed beyond the walls. Mercenaries in green armor flooded the gate. The Red Regiment surged outside to meet them, cutting down the attackers in a brutal struggle. When the fighting ceased, Kindred counted his men—and felt his stomach drop.
One was missing.
“Looking for me?”
The voice drifted down on a sweep of wings. Crescentia descended into view, clad in green armor. Shock rippled through the regiment. She had fooled them all.
Weapons were raised, but Kindred lifted his hand. “Stand down.” the general said, before looking to Crescentia. "Why?"
The soldiers circled them, forming a ring around the pair as they paced slowly over the blood-stained stones.
“I am the Raven Warrior,” she said. “All this time, I spied for them. I recruited your own men into my ranks. Some resisted… like Luke.” Her smile was thin as a blade. “And you were foolish enough to trust me.”
Kindred opened his mouth, then closed it. The words tasted like ash. “It no longer matters. Whatever I felt for you is gone.”
The regiment murmured in disbelief. Crescentia drew her bow.
“I don’t want to do this,” Kindred said.
“Then die by it.”
Her arrow flew. Kindred rolled aside, steel already in his hand. She shed her bow for her sword and rushed him, striking fast as lightning—but Kindred fought with the patience of a man who had survived too many battles. He parried, dodged, then kicked her hard enough to send her sprawling.
She rose, fierce and wounded, and dissolved into her raven form. With a beat of dark wings, she vanished into the morning sky.
As the smoke thinned and the dead were counted, the truth finally revealed itself. The former king had been nothing but a distraction. There was a greater threat now—greater than any of them had guessed.
Dawn crept over the stones. Kindred walked until something hard cracked beneath his boot. He knelt and lifted it—a small, familiar shape glinting in the new light.
The Gold Insignia of the Red Regiment.
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