Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (essential reading .txt) 📗

our peaceful embassy. Tomorrow, our kingdom will declare a state of war... I want you to lead one of our legions.”

It was at that moment that Ash finally realized what the world “surprise” meant. To be a general of a legion was the highest honor any soldier could get. But he

was no soldier, just a simple hermit. He didn’t even own an epaulet, let alone something of a higher rank.

“Wars are won here,” the king said and tapped the young man’s forehead. “And they are lost here,” he said, touching Ash’s heart. “I want you to make Arabist’s

heart tremble with terror. I want their wives and children to cry in horror. I want to hear them pray to the Gods for their husbands and sons to return home. I want them to be too scared to even poke their noses out of their homes. I want you to sow as much fear and horror into their hearts as possible.”

Ash dropped to his knee. Placing the staff next to him, he bowed his head and held his breath.

“As you wish, my Lord.”

“As of tomorrow, a new legion will be added to my army — the Seventh Legion. You will be given command over prisoners of the kingdom, everyone from petty thieves to serial killers. You will not be given assistance from the state, no subsidies, coin, rations nor ammunition. The only thing that you will be given will be weapons issued by the Royal Inspectors. Do you realize that you might be marching to your death?”

“If that is the Lord’s will, so be it. If you wish Arabist burned to the ground, just say the word. If you want me to drown your enemies in blood, all you need is ask, my Lord.”

Garangan smiled, knowing that Ash would obey his every command as the boy knew no other way to live. He was like a leaf blown off a branch, following the wind wherever it carried it.

“Rise, Baronet Nameless. You are now the general of the Seventh Legion. From now, you’re the worst nightmare of our enemies.”

Ash rose and took a step forth so that Garangan could put a medallion around his neck, adorned with the etching of a laughing demon devouring a screaming child— the coat of arms of the new legion.

“Your Majesty,” said a voice behind the young mage.

A man in his thirties bowed to the king and his subjects. He was dressed very poorly, but his mannerism betrayed aristocratic upbringing.

“Ah, Racker, just in time. This is Ash. Ash, this is Baron Racker, your future lieutenant and second in command. He had once been a baron, but his county was removed from the maps due to its involvement in bribes and perjury. I gave him and his people a chance to atone for their sins, and they sent their eldest son to serve you.”

“When do we start?” Ash asked.

“Immediately, my friend, immediately! War waits for no man!”

“As the Lord wishes.” Ash bowed and turned to Racker.

Their eyes met and the two nodded in unison. In some way, they were very similar to one another. Probably in the fact that neither would so much as blink an eye if they saw someone suffering in front of them.

Bowing one last time, the two left the room. The guards followed quickly, carrying with them the corpse of the unfortunate swordsman.

“My Lord,” Arthur said when they were left alone, taking off his hat with a shaky hand. “You woke up the slumbering lion.”

Garangan replied nothing, just flashed a predatory grin, akin that to a wolf prepared for a good hunt.

To the last drop of his or the enemy’s blood.

“You misunderstand, Arthur, it was Arabist who woke him up. And now it’s time for them to pay the price.”

31st day of Tamir, 322 A.D., somewhere on the eastern border of the Middle Kingdom

“Ash! Ash! A-a-ash!”

The young mage finally snapped out of his thoughts and smiled awkwardly at Alice who was anxiously tugging at his sleeve.

“Look,” she said, “there’s the outpost of the Arabist Kingdom. Our journey begins there. Have you ever been to Arabist?”

Ash remembered the screams of the dying, the cries of mothers being hacked to pieces as they shielded their children with their bodies, pleading to spare them at least. He remembered Racker’s laughter as he burned down the local temple packed with civilians. He remembered his soldiers, who, covered in blood and gore, looted, murdered, and raped. He felt the wind and heat on his skin.

Even now he felt his heart beat to the drums of the Foul Legion.

“No.” He smiled at Alice. “Never been there.”

Chapter 17

L eaving the outpost behind, the Stumps spent a week traveling along a wide and seemingly abandoned road. Sedge was growing along its edge, and patches of weed could be seen popping between the cobblestones. There were almost no people, and the air was filled with an oppressive sense of unease. The sky was different, too, even though they were barely a week of riding away from the border with Bistrita. It seemed low and heavy, and it brought a chill that made Alice wrap her emerald cloak tighter around herself despite it being summer on the Continent.

“Are you okay?” Tul asked, turning to her.

She just nodded and gripped her wand tight until her knuckles turned white.

“You’re a bad liar.” Ash chuckled and ruffled Guido’s mane. “Want a pie? They say that food’s the best cure for depression!”

“You’re the only one who says that,” Alice muttered but gave him a faint smile.

“No pie then,” Ash replied with a wide, ear-to-ear grin.

Mary shot them a glare that said that she’d kill them if they so much as thought about taking the supplies without her permission.

Turning around, Lari took the map from Blackbeard and