John Louis
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Short Story 1: “The First of Many” [ITFO]
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 01:53:46 +0000 UTC[Darin and Female Marshal]
It was so damn dark in the jungle. I’s don’t know how the men who lived there could stand it. I didn’t know why our ancestors tried so desperately to take this patch of overgrown land in the first place. Knew even less why the Erisians were so desperate for it that they’d fight us. And I knew least of all what I–a man from Duncaster–was doing in this godless hellhole.
It was only the first week of the first month of our three year long war to hold the province. Rade Mozoroff wasn’t even here yet. The only real commander was the girl–and she was just a wisp of fifteen. I’s thought she was even younger the first time I met her.
She’d grow up fast. Not yet, though. It was the first week. She looked so small buried in her coat of plates. It didn’t help that the man beside her was a giant. Cadarn was an enormous Kroridian knight with these startlingly black eyes that I’s never was able to read.
I’d grow to hate that man in time. Hate him more than the Erisians that we’s fighting. But back then? Trudging through the jungle with the king’s bastard daughter at the head? I thought Cadarn was the real commander. The Marshal was just there to fulfill the whims of her shitty father.
What were we even doing that day, I’s can’t remember. A patrol, of some kind, maybe? I just remembered the slog. Hell take the man who made us march. It was bad even before I’s took an arrow through the leg. I just remember how much of a storm I cursed up, angry at it all.
But the Marshal never complained. Thought it was madness that she was here in the first place. I’s had a definite soft spot for the princess, ever since I met her. I knew she was talented. But to have her here, at the head of an army? Insanity. She of all people deserved the least to be here.
But I’s kept cursing and she was quiet.
For every hour spent fighting in a pitched battle, there are a dozen days spent slogging. Slogging. Slogging through the mud. It was hot. The air was like water. I’s couldn’t remember why, but we were in armor that day–all of us. We were thirty strong, maybe. Half were Kroridian rangers with shortbows and crossbows. The rest were infantry from Kanton.
The violence in that jungle was always very sudden–that’s what sticks in my mind. One moment, I was marching with my head hung low. The next, someone was screaming. I nearly snapped my neck with how quickly I turned to spot the Marshal. I was relieved to see her okay. But a second later, the man in the column just ahead of me–can’t say whether he was Kroridian or Kantonian–seized up and died right there in the grass.
His head was split open by a smooth stone from a sling. I saw the shiny rock embedded in the bone, coated in his brains and blood.
It just happens so quickly. And the fear that seized me wasn’t even for myself. At that point, I’s didn’t care whether I woke the next morning. I was just worried about the poor girl at the front of the patrol. Never was able reach her, though. The Erisians came out of the brush around us.
That was the worst part. When the fight would begin and the one person you wanted to save more than you even cared to live was out of reach. How often did we’s just throw ourselves at the feet of chance and gamble everything? Never understood how the men could play dice. They already rolled them every time they stepped outside the fortress walls.
It wasn’t Erisian land. They didn’t know it like these rangers did. But they were deathly silent and had been waging their war of conquest here for months before me and the Marshal made it.
I’s remember screaming her name. And I remember she went out of sight when the chaos rolled over our column. Rangers and footmen all turned to face the ambush as the horse-folk came out of the brush with swords and axes. It was the first week of the first month of our time here, and we were given quite a welcome.
The Erisian came at me with a curved saber under the cover of a hail of missiles. I tried to raise my spear but he was in my face before I could. The bastard kept hitting me, his sword just bouncing off mail but hurting like hell. I had been in plenty of fights before this. I’s made a living as a career soldier. It was the only reason I was in Sobik’s employ.
It never got easier. Never. The fear wasn’t something I’s or anyone can control. It wasn’t a fear of losing what I’s living for. I had nothing; my wife and child were gone. Yet I was horrified. Animal fear. Gut fear. I can still remember that same look in the Erisian’s eye as he battered me.
I can still remember the sound he made when I split him open.
I dropped the spear and drew my sword. He was too close for me to rear back my weapon, so I just struck horizontal and cut him right across the belly. I’s certain he died, but I never was given the chance to finish the job. As he fell I turned around, scanning for the girl, but I couldn’t find her.
I then got grabbed from behind. Another Erisian had emerged out from the brush and wrapped his arm around my neck. He jammed down with a knife, aiming for my face or my throat. I’s thrashed like an animal and his blade caught my breastplate. He lost balance on the slick ground and we both went tumbling off the trail and into the mud.
I got pinned there, face in the ground, as he pounced on top of me. I was drowning. He must have lost his dagger in the struggle because I didn’t end up stabbed. He just pinned my head under and kept it there. I’s remember the taste of the dirt. How it got caught between my teeth and stuck to my gums and shot up my nose. When I pushed my head back up, I heard him screaming in his foreign tongue, burning with the same fear as mine.
I wanted to live–but not for myself or for the family that I lost. I just wanted to make sure the kid was okay before I’s passed. It was the only thing on my mind. If I died here, I’d never be able to get her out of this jungle alive.
So I just kept bucking. Every time I thrashed and my ears came out of the mud I heard the muted sounds of dying men. I strained to listen for the Marshal’s voice and never found it. Eventually, I thrashed enough. I wedged my knee up high and pinned it into his groin. It must’ve hurt him bad because his arm slipped away.
I took the brief moment to reverse our positions. I’s a few inches taller and at least forty pounds heavier than the man, and he stood little chance. He was not that much older than the Marshal, actually. Without a weapon, I had no choice but to kill him like how he tried to kill me. I’s choked him and he drowned right there in the mud.
As soon as he stopped moving, I pulled myself out of the muck and stumbled back onto the road. I couldn’t find my sword. Couldn’t even hear well with the mud in my ears. I scrambled for the closest corpse and stole his weapon. I didn’t end up needing it, though. By the time I’s rejoined the battle, it was over.
I tallied up the report later that night. We’d killed seven Erisians, captured one. Four Kantonians were either dead or would wind up dead later from their wounds. Two rangers were killed.
I ran for the front of the column, coughing and sputtering. I was spitting out mud and hopping over the dead as I went. I found Sir Cadarn there, and the girl, too. The Marshal was straddling a man’s chest, hammering his face inward with the rim of her shield. It was a rhythmic crunch. Every second, another hit.
The Kroridan knight watched her, arms folded over his chest. Couldn’t see his expression from behind, but I’s could imagine it well. Smug and approving. Happy that his little weapon had turned out so lethal on her first ever patrol.
I shoved without saying anything him as I came running by. And I’s rushed over to the girl’s side and stood frozen in shock as I saw her. The Marshal let out a screech, this horrible yell as she rammed the shield back down again. Her whole body was shuddering with each breath.
A second later, I came to my senses. I stepped over to the girl and touched her shoulder. She flinched and screamed, then leapt off the body. She hit the ground and rolled back, scrambling on her rear, searching for the sword she must have lost. But then she saw me, and her eyes went wide.
There were still three years of hell awaiting that girl. We’s had barely started. The Marshal couldn’t speak for hours after the ordeal. I can still remember her stumbling on her words. I tried to hold her, to comfort her like the kid she still was–but she wouldn’t allow it. I couldn’t touch her, hug her. She pulled away and screamed.
It haunted me more than the pleading of the Erisian as I held him under and he begged in his tongue for mercy. Haunted me more than the silence after he went still.
There would come a time when the screaming would stop. Couldn’t tell you precisely when. There would come a day when the Marshal became a better killer than I, when she’d carve out a man’s throat one moment and issue orders the next. And that haunted me more than anything else in Krorid.
---
[Darin and Male Marshal]
It was so damn dark in the jungle. I’s don’t know how the men who lived there could stand it. I didn’t know why our ancestors tried so desperately to take this patch of overgrown land in the first place. Knew even less why the Erisians were so desperate for it that they’d fight us. And I knew least of all what I–a man from Duncaster–was doing in this godless hellhole.
It was only the first week of the first month of our three year long war to hold the province. Rade Mozoroff wasn’t even here yet. The only real commander was the boy–and he was just a lad of fifteen. I’s thought he was even younger the first time I met him.
He’d grow up fast. Not yet, though. It was the first week. He looked so small buried in his coat of plates. It didn’t help that the man beside him was a giant. Cadarn was an enormous Kroridian knight with these startlingly black eyes that I’s never was able to read.
I’d grow to hate that man in time. Hate him more than the Erisians that we’s fighting. But back then? Trudging through the jungle with the king’s bastard son at the head? I thought Cadarn was the real commander. The Marshal was just there to fulfill the whims of his shitty father.
What were we even doing that day, I’s can’t remember. A patrol, of some kind, maybe? I just remembered the slog. Hell take the man who made us march. It was bad even before I’s took an arrow through the leg. I just remember how much of a storm I cursed up, angry at it all.
But the Marshal never complained. Thought it was madness that he was here in the first place. I’s had a definite soft spot for the prince, ever since I met him. I knew he was talented. But to have him here, at the head of an army? Insanity. He of all people deserved the least to be here.
But I’s kept cursing and he was quiet.
For every hour spent fighting in a pitched battle, there are a dozen days spent slogging. Slogging. Slogging through the mud. It was hot. The air was like water. I’s couldn’t remember why, but we were in armor that day–all of us. We were thirty strong, maybe. Half were Kroridian rangers with shortbows and crossbows. The rest were infantry from Kanton.
The violence in that jungle was always very sudden–that’s what sticks in my mind. One moment, I was marching with my head hung low. The next, someone was screaming. I nearly snapped my neck with how quickly I turned to spot the Marshal. I was relieved to see him okay. But a second later, the man in the column just ahead of me–can’t say whether he was Kroridian or Kantonian–seized up and died right there in the grass.
His head was split open by a smooth stone from a sling. I saw the shiny rock embedded in the bone, coated in his brains and blood.
It just happens so quickly. And the fear that seized me wasn’t even for myself. At that point, I’s didn’t care whether I woke the next morning. I was just worried about the poor boy at the front of the patrol. Never was able reach him, though. The Erisians came out of the brush around us.
That was the worst part. When the fight would begin and the one person you wanted to save more than you even cared to live was out of reach. How often did we’s just throw ourselves at the feet of chance and gamble everything? Never understood how the men could play dice. They already rolled them every time they stepped outside the fortress walls.
It wasn’t Erisian land. They didn’t know it like these rangers did. But they were deathly silent and had been waging their war of conquest here for months before me and the Marshal made it.
I’s remember screaming his name. And I remember he went out of sight when the chaos rolled over our column. Rangers and footmen all turned to face the ambush as the horse-folk came out of the brush with swords and axes. It was the first week of the first month of our time here, and we were given quite a welcome.
The Erisian came at me with a curved saber under the cover of a hail of missiles. I tried to raise my spear but he was in my face before I could. The bastard kept hitting me, his sword just bouncing off mail but hurting like hell. I had been in plenty of fights before this. I’s made a living as a career soldier. It was the only reason I was in Sobik’s employ.
It never got easier. Never. The fear wasn’t something I’s or anyone can control. It wasn’t a fear of losing what I’s living for. I had nothing; my wife and child were gone. Yet I was horrified. Animal fear. Gut fear. I can still remember that same look in the Erisian’s eye as he battered me.
I can still remember the sound he made when I split him open.
I dropped the spear and drew my sword. He was too close for me to rear back my weapon, so I just struck horizontal and cut him right across the belly. I’s certain he died, but I never was given the chance to finish the job. As he fell I turned around, scanning for the boy, but I couldn’t find him.
I then got grabbed from behind. Another Erisian had emerged out from the brush and wrapped his arm around my neck. He jammed down with a knife, aiming for my face or my throat. I’s thrashed like an animal and his blade caught my breastplate. He lost balance on the slick ground and we both went tumbling off the trail and into the mud.
I got pinned there, face in the ground, as he pounced on top of me. I was drowning. He must have lost his dagger in the struggle because I didn’t end up stabbed. He just pinned my head under and kept it there. I’s remember the taste of the dirt. How it got caught between my teeth and stuck to my gums and shot up my nose. When I pushed my head back up, I heard him screaming in his foreign tongue, burning with the same fear as mine.
I wanted to live–but not for myself or for the family that I lost. I just wanted to make sure the kid was okay before I’s passed. It was the only thing on my mind. If I died here, I’d never be able to get him out of this jungle alive.
So I just kept bucking. Every time I thrashed and my ears came out of the mud I heard the muted sounds of dying men. I strained to listen for the Marshal’s voice and never found it. Eventually, I thrashed enough. I wedged my knee up high and pinned it into his groin. It must’ve hurt him bad because his arm slipped away.
I took the brief moment to reverse our positions. I’s a few inches taller and at least forty pounds heavier than the man, and he stood little chance. He was not that much older than the Marshal, actually. Without a weapon, I had no choice but to kill him like how he tried to kill me. I’s choked him and he drowned right there in the mud.
As soon as he stopped moving, I pulled myself out of the muck and stumbled back onto the road. I couldn’t find my sword. Couldn’t even hear well with the mud in my ears. I scrambled for the closest corpse and stole his weapon. I didn’t end up needing it, though. By the time I’s rejoined the battle, it was over.
I tallied up the report later that night. We’d killed seven Erisians, captured one. Four Kantonians were either dead or would wind up dead later from their wounds. Two rangers were killed.
I ran for the front of the column, coughing and sputtering. I was spitting out mud and hopping over the dead as I went. I found Sir Cadarn there, and the boy, too. The Marshal was straddling a man’s chest, hammering his face inward with the rim of his shield. It was a rhythmic crunch. Every second, another hit.
The Kroridan knight watched him, arms folded over his chest. Couldn’t see his expression from behind, but I’s could imagine it well. Smug and approving. Happy that his little weapon had turned out so lethal on his first ever patrol.
I shoved without saying anything him as I came running by. And I’s rushed over to the boy’s side and stood frozen in shock as I saw him. The Marshal let out a screech, this horrible yell as he rammed the shield back down again. His whole body was shuddering with each breath.
A second later, I came to my senses. I stepped over to the boy and touched his shoulder. He flinched and screamed, then leapt off the body. He hit the ground and rolled back, scrambling on his rear, searching for the sword he must have lost. But then he saw me, and his eyes went wide.
There were still three years of hell awaiting that boy. We’s had barely started. The Marshal couldn’t speak for hours after the ordeal. I can still remember him stumbling on his words. I tried to hold him, to comfort him like the kid he still was–but he wouldn’t allow it. I couldn’t touch him, hug him. He pulled away and screamed.
It haunted me more than the pleading of the Erisian as I held him under and he begged in his tongue for mercy. Haunted me more than the silence after he went still.
There would come a time when the screaming would stop. Couldn’t tell you precisely when. There would come a day when the Marshal became a better killer than I, when he’d carve out a man’s throat one moment and issue orders the next. And that haunted me more than anything else in Krorid.
Comments
WarriorOmen
DARIN ILU. Ahem. Anyway. This is SO GOOD. It reminds me so quickly of what I love, both about Darin, Marshal and ITFO so much. At the risk of this sounding like a strange comment, you write war and it's general atmosphere extremely well. It could be an internal bias b/c I went to University for history and I'm an retired reenactor myself, but your way of intertwining it's energy and very specific chaotic yet *still* atmosphere (brutal one moment, deadly quiet the next, etc) is so so good. And Darin's narration is excellent and so *him*. And his budding paternal feelings he can't do anything conscious with but we know he'll try anyway. Addendum: I know you've mentioned Cadarn is getting expanded on in ITUO and I definitely can't wait to see where that goes. I look forward to it
Marmar
Gut wrenching and fantastic writing as always! Your writing is so visceral, it’s like I was watching this happen like a movie. My heart breaks for the Marshal over and over and over again. 😭 also, as a head’s up, there are some pronoun mistakes throughout the male marshal story with scattered “her/hers” and a mention of “daughter” and such. Thank you for creating!! 💗💗💗
