The Violet Reaper- Part 3

Alexander limped into town, sick from the heat and lack of food. He would have died again, if a kind stranger had not found him on the road, placed him into their wagon, given him food, and taken him to town. “So much for hunting and fishing,” the voice of Warden said to Alexander. He looked around, and saw the skeleton leaning on a town well. Alexander looked around, but no one seemed to take notice of the strange sight.

“No one is afraid of you?” He asked.

“They can’t see me, well… not the real me anyway. Only you get that privilege. To them, I look like any other normal man.”

“Why are you here?” Alexander asked.

“Well, as much as you’ve been stopping by lately, I figured you wouldn’t mind if I came to you.” Warden laughed at his own joke; Alexander didn’t. “Ah, you’re no fun. Look, I’m here because I have a mission for you.”

“I have not even avenged my brothers yet, and you already have me doing your bidding?” Alexander snapped annoyed.

“Calm yourself, son. You’ll be happy to know you get to kill two birds with this stone. Or rather, two of the men who you’re searching for anyway.” Warden said taking out his cigar to chew it.

This got Alexander’s attention, “Where are they?”

“Over on the other side of the city, in an old mill.” Warden said. Alexander turned and started walking away. “Aren’t ya gunna ask how many there are, or, I don’t know, literally any other questions?”

“I do not need to know anything else. Nothing can save them now.” Alexander said walking to where Warden had instructed.

“Heh, sure. Just try not to die again. I’m getting real tired of yer unannounced visits.” With that, Warden disappeared like a desert’s heat-mirage fading away. Alexander was headed for the other side of Bridon. It took him over two hours, but eventually he found the mill that Warden told him about. Alexander was angry, and vengeful, but not a fool. He knew even with his new power he would not be able to defeat this group right now. So he resigned to watch them for a few days, stopping only to go find food and draw water from a nearby well. After three days, he knew the faces of everyone who regularly entered and exited the mill, which was only five people in total. The group that killed his brother numbered thirty in total, so this was not the complete platoon, but it was a start.

If I sneak in at nightfall, I will have the cover of darkness as my ally. Alexander thought to himself. And so he waited until the sun went down and a half moon rose. Once he was confident it was dark enough that he wouldn’t be spotted, Alexander began his mission of retribution. He started by quietly scaling a tree to hop over the stone walls that surrounded the mill, then carefully sticking to well covered areas until he was near enough to a building to look inside. It seemed to him to be some kind of armory, filled with weapons and shields. Along the walls were suits of armor in various disassembled states. These fools store away their armor when they sleep? Alexander wondered. He drew closer and realized something about the armor and weapons that he didn’t notice from the shadows; these were Dalvonian made. Thieves! Vile mongrels! These are not their armors, these are trophies! Alexander snuck into the empty building and searched through the armaments. All he had possessed since his resurrection was a simple set of clothes and his father’s sword; his armor had been lost to the flames and his original weapon stolen by one of the attackers.

Without warning, he heard several voices coming from outside the building. Alexander quickly picked up a sword that had been laid atop a set of traditional warrior’s armor, and hid by the building’s door, ready to attack should they discover him. “And then I said, that’s not my wife, that your sister!” A voice said, followed by uproars of laughter from two other men.

“You’re horrible Kline,” one of the voices said.

“Hold on, I gotta pee,” the one called Kline said and stopped walking. The other continued on, stumbling in the dark as they went. Kline moved over behind a pile of stones and lowered his pants. Alexander waited until the others were out of sight and moved behind the man. As he moved closer, Alexander walked into the cloud of wine that emanated off the man; it was nearly strong enough to choke him. Just as the man pulled up his trousers, Alexander used his sword to slice the man’s throat and held his mouth closed with his free hand. Alexander held the man still until he stopped resisting, then dragged the body behind the rocks where it wouldn’t be seen. Alexander left the body, and made his way to where he saw the other two men go; a small hut made from tarps and wooden posts. As he got closer, he heard the voices of the other two men again.

“Man, he sure is taking a while.”

“Well, he drank enough to drown a fish.”

“He probably passed out halfway through. Hahaha!”

“I ain’t cleaning that up!” The men laughed and talked for a moment, before one volunteered to go check on their now dead friend. Alexander waited for the man to walk far enough away from the hut so that the man inside wouldn’t hear anything. Alexander snuck behind him and quickly using the sword he found to remove the man’s head from his body. The head and body fell to the ground in the darkness with a thump, and Alexander went back to the hut for the remaining enemy. As he walked back, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, he was tackled to the ground.

“UHG!” Alexander groaned as the wind was knocked out of him. It was dark, but upon seeing his attacker he realized who had hit him; it was the headless body of the man he had just killed.