Into the Fire

Footsteps

Outside the castle ruins, a fifth unrelated person lay in wait, keeping watch under the moonlight beneath a camouflage tarp with a pair of beaten up binoculars.

"What, are they still talking?" the pigtailed woman wondered aloud. "From this distance it's really hard to tell..."

[Shem. Answer me, Shem.] a male voice sounded from a crystal ball in her possession. [How are they...? Did you get them?]

"Yessir, four Drifters indeed," the strange woman reported dutifully. "They are gathered in one single place. It's unbelievable."

[Ham. What about Ham?] the voice asked.

"Yes,  Ham speaking," a young man, wearing a male version of the uniform and beret sported by the woman, answered. He appeared to be in a desert wasteland. "As you said, I tracked two Drifters. These Drifters look like two old men... and they are in the middle of a fight. What should we do, Great Master?"

"A plagiarist! A plagiarist! Why is a plagiarist here!?" one of the old men shouted.

"I am not a plagiarist!!" the other one shouted back. He had short cropped hair and was wearing robes that marked him as a citizen of Ancient Rome. "You are the plagiarist here!! I am a winner! And the winner takes it all!!"

"Shut uuup! You imitated me!!!" the wilder looking old man with an eye patch and ragged cloak yelled angrily. "You imitated my Cannae campaign!! You imitated me in Zama, you brat!!"

"What are you talking about, you old geezer!? Try being a winner for once! I won, so it's not an imitation!"

"Yarg! What's with that chosen people-like talk!? That's why I hate Romans!"

"I will spread salt in Carthago when I get back!"

"When I get back, I will cross the Alps once again!"

[Stop them.]

"Understood," Ham replied. "One of them decided to come here. The question is: which one?"

"We have to stop them," the owner of the voice, a handsome young man in the same uniform with a mole under one of his eyes, said amidst the clutter of research materials surrounding him. "Or else... this world will face and end."

Meanwhile, the mysterious bereted observers  weren't the only ones feeling troubled. Not all was well in the small village of the Elves.

"I've told you so many times! Yet you went to the castle ruins again!?" an elf, who appeared to be in his late teens yelled. The two young elves who had dragged Toyohisa to the castle earlier trembled as they were scolded for their recklessness. "I told you countless times not to get involved with the Drifters!! It's not allowed to go into the forest! To get near that castle! To get involved with Drifters! If the guys in the Lord's service find out, you'll be killed!!"

"But he was totally unconscious..." one of the boys started to argue feebly in their defense.

"No buts!!" the older, but still quite young and handsome elf shouted sternly. "Listen to me! Do not get involved with them! Do you understand!? Do you!?"

Unbeknownst to the elves, it was already too late. Danger was already upon their poor village.

"Shit. It's before harvest time," one of the armored men cursed when he saw the full fields of grain that were waiting to be reaped. He gritted his teeth.  "Oh, well. Let's go!!" he said, ordering his men forward.