CHAPTER 4
The campsite, Baltinar
My liege,
I'm pleased to inform you that we have made a milestone of progress. The natives have incorporated us in their society. We work and eat along with them.
They are surprisingly knowledgeable about the land. I believe they may even know a cure for the illness that plagues us.
They are wary of our weaponry though and the slightest metallic noises startle them. The soldiers are hesitant to lay down their weapons, but a peace treaty maybe heading our way soon.
Lys, my opinions have been confirmed. The Rodrak can be reasoned with through care.
I will be home soon, brother.
Yours in Arms,
Ezra
Writ this day, the third before the new moon, in the brightest month of the 200th Mahaikva
***
The Hall of a thousand pillars, Baltinar
My liege,
The treasury of Baltinar has not been touched. The gold will last us for decades.
The manuscripts in the vast library are in an old dialect and speak of monsters that have lived outside the borders of this kingdom. I believe that hidden therein are the causes for these horrors.
I questioned the shaman of the Rodrak in the hopes of understanding more, but he left in a drunken rage after a surprisingly ingenious round of expletives.
With this letter, I will send to you the most relevant of the manuscripts.
Decipher them your majesty, it is your duty now.
Yours in Arms,
Ezra
Writ this day, the second after the full moon in the brightest month of the 200th Mahaikva
***
The campsite, Baltinar
My liege,
Circumstances have taken a dark turn.
The soldiers are descending into unrivaled madness. There is dirt caked beneath their nails and unkempt hair; blood drips from their mouths and they mumble in a feverish stupor.
Though the healer repeatedly assures me that it is no more than mild poisons in the food, I am scared for their lives.
Unseen things lurk here, brother mine.
We hear winds howling through the streets at night. Mutilated bodies are hung up at our doors and a soldier swears that he saw white veiled woman wailing with a voice so haunting it could wake the dead.
Lys, I am afraid. I do not know how to help my men.
Yours in Arms,
YOU ARE READING
Lost in Translation
FantasyThey are a new breed rising with flames flickering in their eyes. They don't fear anything because they've already been torn apart and undone. They are ruled by pure impulse driven by a primal instinct to survive. They have become the consequences o...
