Somewhere in the foothills of the Aderyn Range — four days from the city of Veylen
The convoy creaked and rattled along the dirt road, its rhythm broken only by the occasional snort of horses or the clatter of a loose wheel. Paul walked at the edge of the column, sword bouncing awkwardly at his side. The sun was just beginning to dip behind the trees, washing everything in a dull amber glow.
"Hey, Paul!" Joren jogged up behind him, grinning, a crust of flatbread in hand. "You spacing out again?"
Paul took the bread without a word and tore off a bite, chewing as he glanced up at the covered carriage ahead—the one carrying the noblewoman and her daughter. Even now, with sweat slicking his tunic and his back aching from the weight of his gear, that carriage made him stand straighter.
"You think she's watching us?" Joren waggled his eyebrows. "The daughter, I mean."
"She's a noble," Paul muttered, swallowing hard. "She's probably never looked at a peasant in her life."
"That's not what Tris said. Said she looked right at him when he handed her that waterskin yesterday."
"Tris is an idiot," Paul said, though a half-smile crept in. Joren always had that effect. "Besides, Lady Alis can probably smell cow dung from a league off. We reek."
Laughter echoed behind them. Danel, one of the older boys—eighteen, maybe nineteen—clapped Paul on the shoulder as he passed.
"Careful talking about nobles, boys," he warned. "You might end up knighted."
Paul flushed with pride and ducked his head, hiding the grin. Danel had fought in the skirmish at River Hollow and come back with a bandaged leg and a medal from some baron. He was a living legend among their group.
The rest of the lads were scattered through the column, joking, tossing pebbles, even singing under their breath. They wore mismatched armor and carried swords too big for some of them, but they walked like heroes. A year of training—barely that, truth be told—but the instructors had said they'd "hold the line with pride." They believed it. Paul believed it.
He still remembered the day they were taken—twenty-five boys from their village, some barely twelve, standing in a line with shaved heads and wooden practice swords. They'd all cried that night, though none admitted it after. Not even Joren.
Now they were soldiers.
Paul's stomach growled. He was about to ask Joren if there was more bread when a sharp whistle cracked through the air.
Then silence.
The birds stopped singing.
Joren froze. "You hear that?"
A second whistle. Then a scream. One of the riders at the front toppled from his horse—an arrow jutting from his neck.
Time snapped in half.
"AMBUSH!"
The cry tore through the column as chaos erupted. Arrows rained from the treeline—black shafts whistling past Paul's ear. The horses shrieked, rearing in panic. Someone shoved him hard and he hit the ground just as a spear skidded across the dirt where he'd been standing.
He rolled, choking on dust, heart hammering. Joren was gone—vanished into the press of panicked soldiers. Men were shouting, dying, blades flashing in the golden light. The noblewoman's carriage rocked violently as a guard was dragged screaming from the driver's seat.
Paul's hand found his sword. It felt too heavy. He clambered to his feet, back to the carriage, watching shadows move in the trees.
Then he saw Danel—his idol—sprinting toward them, sword drawn, face wild with fear.
"Form up! FORM UP, DAMN YOU!"
A figure stepped out from the woods behind him. Paul recognized the rebel crest a heartbeat too late.
The blade caught Danel across the back. He stumbled, staggered, and collapsed.
Paul screamed.
But no one heard it.
His thoughts outpacing his rapid heartbeats as he looked around for anyone with no luck, the chaos had consumed the whole forest, it was then that he heard the cries coming from the carriage once more, in that brief moment something compelled Paul to act forcing him to the carriage.
when he got closer he saw two soldiers seemingly taking advantage of the chaos, they tore at Lady Alis' clothes while another held down her daughter. Perhaps because the daughter reminded Paul of his own sister both similar in age that he was overcome with a rage strong enough to overcome the fear he felt in this moment.
He rushed forward remembering the little training he had and driving his sword into the back of one of the soldiers neck, saving enough strength to quickly yank it his neck and while the other was in shock plunge it into his chest. That however was all his small body could manage as when he tried to pull it from the second soldiers chest the man who was not completely dead managed to grab a hold of Paul long enough for the third soldier over the girl to draw his sword.
In a stroke of luck the carriage was already cramped with two nobles and now with all the bodies crammed inside Paul used this to his advantage using the little strength he had in his legs to push himself into his third attacker whilst the second now struggled to stop the bleeding and remove the sword stuck in his chest to little effect.
Paul and the man struggled while Lady Alis and her daughter hurried to the opposite side closing the door to the carriage in a panic. The man punched Paul repeatedly pummelling the young boy until his face was near unrecognisable, Paul held on for his life relying on solely the adrenaline pumping through his body but it wasn't enough as he violently tried to fight back to little effect.
It was then that Paul's grip around the man got looser allowing him to pull a knife from his belt, before Paul could realise what he pulled out it was too late. It was a quick sharp pain at first but immediately after came the agonising burning sensation now coming from his torso, as the man twisted the knife shock turned to anguish as the boy cried out dreadfully, the man stabbed him again and again until Paul slumped over losing his grip.
"Fucking little shit." The man said as he sat for a moment catching his breath leaving the knife still inside Paul who faintly gasped while choking on his blood as his boy became colder.
"Now, you bitch." The man said while staring at Lady Alis who fiercely covered her daughter protecting her from the bloody scene around them.
As the man grabbed his sword from the ground and went to open the carriage he smirked at the women since the cries from outside seemingly became quiet meaning the Rebel forces were finishing up the last of the rabble.
Upon opening the carriage he was greeted with an unexpected sight, his allies were instead slain amongst the enemies and standing where he had expected them to be was a figure straight out of his nightmares. He quickly shut the carriage door and grabbed Lady Alis quickly putting a sword to her throat while she held her daughter tightly.
"Craven!" A voice bellowed from outside after noticing the soldier.
He kicked the door back open as chills went down his spine, first showing his hostage before making his boastful demands.
"Seems we've been had then! But I won't be apart of your games anymore damn nobles!" he said with a smile on his face knowing the man wouldn't dare endanger the lives he held in his hands, his only bargaining chip out of this dire situation.
"Release them coward! And I'll give you a quick death!" the man standing before him radiating death could barely contain his own anger and the anger of his soldiers.
The mans hands shook and sweat poured down his battered face. While he was busy making his demands Paul who was barely clinging to life lay on the seat holding his wounds, he couldn't think due to the pain, his vision was near completely gone due to the swelling of his face which was too burned all over.
With the little vision he had he saw from the corner of his eye the man who stabbed him, seeing the girls in his arms Paul's heart ached again something called out to him forcing him to act even though he only longed to rest. Even though it would kill him Paul knew what had to be done, this was what he and his friends were trained for and what they swore to give their life for, he held the knife still in his stomach and bit hard into his free hand while pulling it out and biting down hard until he drew blood.
He slowly rose from his seat while blood flowed out relentlessly, in one swift action he threw himself onto the mans back grabbing his arm which held his sword while returning his knife right into the mans neck repeatedly just as he did moments earlier.
The man dropped Lady Alis who quickly returned to her husbands side, the reunion was long awaited and filled with tears all the while the rest of the soldiers watched in shock as the young boy barely clinging to life appeared instead as a violent beast as he stabbed the man until he no longer tried to resist before collapsing forward out of the carriage.
While bleeding out on the ground surrounded by the bodies of his friends and foes Paul felt satisfied with just knowing that maybe his death meant something. It was as his mind wondered that the soldiers of Duke Kernel surrounded Paul trying desperately to save the boy at the orders of Lady Alis.