The land beyond Iderra had no borders, no kings, and no maps. It stretched out in all directions like a wound in the earth, dotted with forgotten villages, shattered watchtowers, and untamed woods. These were the unruled lands—a place spoken of in hushed tones by traders and exiles, where hope flickered like dying embers, and law was just another memory.
Kael followed Leanardo through winding trails and overgrown fields, his boots stained with mud and ash. They passed ruined shrines swallowed by ivy, fields long abandoned to rot, and wells choked with dry stone. Here, the world felt old, like it had lived through too many wars and simply given up.
And yet, even here, people endured.
They came upon the first village three days from Iderra. Smoke billowed in the distance, and Leanardo halted atop a ridge, eyes narrowing. From this height, Kael saw flames licking the rooftops, black shapes storming through the streets. Soldiers.
"Is it one of the kingdoms?" Kael asked, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice.
Leanardo didn't answer at first. He studied the armor glinting through the haze, then spat into the dirt. "Redcrest. Southron dogs. Kingdom of Valeur. They're raiding for grain and fear."
Kael looked again. He saw villagers being dragged, homes torn apart, children scattering like birds. "We have to help them."
Leanardo gave him a sideways glance. "Then draw your sword. And understand this: when you step into a burning house, you carry the heat with you long after."
They descended into the chaos with purpose.
The first soldier Kael faced barely had time to react. Training and instinct clashed as Kael ducked a spear, drove his blade into the man's side, and shoved him off. His stomach turned, but he didn't stop. Not this time. He pushed forward.
Leanardo, meanwhile, moved like a storm.
With his greatcoat billowing behind him and his glaive gleaming in the firelight, he cut through soldiers like wind through grass. One sweep of his blade sent three attackers sprawling. Another caught a mounted knight, unseating him with brutal precision. The old warrior didn't fight like a man seeking victory. He fought like a man burdened by memory, each strike an echo of some ancient grief.
Kael tried to stay close, but the battle pulled them apart.
The village was a maze of smoke and screams. Kael stumbled upon a woman shielding her son behind a broken cart. A soldier raised a sword over her.
"Hey!" Kael shouted.
The soldier turned, sneering. Kael threw himself forward, barely parrying the blow. They clashed in a flurry of steel and grit. Kael's sword slipped under the man's guard and pierced his thigh. As the soldier fell, Kael struck again, and it was over.
The woman didn't thank him. She just clutched her child and fled.
More soldiers poured in from the southern trail. Reinforcements.
Kael felt his arms grow heavy. He turned to see Leanardo surrounded, yet still unyielding. With a roar, the older man drove his glaive into the ground, splitting it with a force that knocked enemies off their feet. He whirled through them with terrifying grace, blades flashing, cloak stained with blood and soot.
But even he looked tired.
Kael ran to his side. "We can't fight all of them!"
"We don't have to," Leanardo said, grabbing a torch and flinging it into the enemy's supply wagon. It exploded in a fireball, scattering the advancing line.
They used the chaos to flee, guiding villagers into the woods. The wounded limped, the young carried the old. Kael held up a boy barely older than his brother had been, cradling him until the smoke faded behind them.
That night, they camped under a shattered canopy, the stars barely visible through the ash-hazed sky. The villagers huddled in silence. A woman wept softly into her hands. A child coughed in the dark.
Kael stared at the flames. "We helped them, but for how long? That kingdom will come back. Another might follow. We didn't stop anything."
Leanardo sat across from him, sharpening his blade slowly. "So you'd rather we walked away?"
"No. But... this isn't enough. We save one village, and five more burn. I thought... I thought doing the right thing would feel like more."
Leanardo looked at him for a long time. Then he spoke, voice low and hoarse.
"You think justice is a blade, boy. That it cuts through wrong and leaves only right behind. But the truth is: it's a weight. You carry it. You drag it behind you. Some days it lifts you. Most days, it breaks your back."
Kael clenched his fists. "Then what do we do?"
"You keep walking," Leanardo said. "You fight when you must. You save what you can. And maybe, if you're lucky, you find a way to do more."
Kael stared at the fire. The screams of the village still rang in his ears. He thought of Melia, of the people left behind in Conclave, of the faceless soldiers burning homes in the name of crowns.
He thought of a world built on ash.
And for the first time, he realized: saving people wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.