Becoming Legend - Chapter 376: Limbo: Roldan

Roldan of House Belet was never a Hunter. But if a Hunter requires to test his strength, a gold rank will no doubt be his equal. His House was a minor one. That of none would care if it was to be razed flat, both literally and metaphorically.

He was, however, a person revered by lot. A person necessary, if not essential, to the crown. His status was second to the Royal Knights. Status called the ‘Left Hand of the Crown’.

Under Lord Berlenius Cadoc Pendragoon: Royal Confidant, Adviser to the King, King’s Kin, Uncle, and soldier, Roldan and his corps of brothers and sisters became infamously known.

Aside from his corps, Lord Cadoc was commanding a battalion of a hundred to a mission supposed to be called the Treaty of Versal, or was according to the Plate Gazette.

The truth, however, was that an Otherworldly Gate appeared on a remote island. An island, O’rriadt, as what Roldan remembered, bordering both the Empire of Zolin and the Kingdom of Griffith; as if the tacit war between the two kingdoms was not enough.

There were different levels of Gates, and Otherworldly was the strongest, and also a sign that more is coming.

It has been months following the declaration of King Arthur himself to assemble a battalion to investigate and close the Gate to ‘ease’ (as Lord Cadoc had said to the battalion), the emergence of monstrosity. But only the Left Hand knew what was there to ‘ease’ about.

“Two things,” Roldan had said to his corps in the compound located somewhere inside the Griffith Kingdom, raising fingers to denote his intention to the group of men and women. Under him, he was in charge of 12 from a couple of dozen of Left Hands. “First: investigate the Gate. Second: Close the Gate. Third: find Silverthorn.”

“But that’s three, boss,” a man in his late twenties said, pairing his voice with a smirk. He was the recruit, a noble of some sort, high noble, probably tossed aside by his family, a bastard perhaps. In the Hand, a slave, a noble, or a merchant does not matter. The Left Hand was built of trust and loyalty. Not of wealth, color, and status.

Roldan raised a hand to dismiss the teehees and hoohas of the group. “The two are thems.” Jerking his head to his left where the other Left Hands grouped in a circle. “The three is us.”

“Oh, come on!” one of his corps cried, dismissive. “Look for a Hunter? We’re better than that, boss.” She ranked silver for a Hunter. She was a mother once, a slave twice, and a whore her lifetime. Now, she’s up for revenge on whoever robbed her and her band of justice she did not have once in her life.

Roldan raised another hand to dismiss the rising blethe of the group. “We will be accompanied by Lord Cadoc himself.”

Just like that, a casual mention of Lord Cadoc was more than enough to silence the group. Roldan could, if he wanted to, but he knew his group better than the other. To him, they were family. More loyal to him and the Left Hand, than to their kin, money, or blood. To Roldan and his group, their loyalty to one another was the blood connection itself.

Months under the storm of the Seven Seas; days cold, and weeks hot, the battalion of a hundred finest soldiers of the Kingdom, dozens of well trained Left Hands: dead. Or rather wished that they die instead.

Roldan, the bastard named Benn, and Ingrith the whore, the slave, and a mother once, where all that’s left of the Hand. Or that they know of.

“This is not the plan, boss!” Ingrith lamented. “Roldan! By the Maker, Roldan! This is not what we’re supposed to be doing!”

The three were back against a boulder wrapped in moss, and vines, surrounded by trees they could not recognize no matter how they remember their training about botany, forestry, or herbalism.

They were inside the Limbo between O’rriadt and Draconheilm for days, but it felt like months had passed. The memories of them camping, exploring, and navigating the forest seemed like yesterday. But the sun was up to the east for almost months now, not dimming nor hiding. It was always there.

Roldan held a silver rapier to his left, eyes squinting of sweat, and Benn knew, was fear. His armor of silver and black stitched by the finest craftsmen of the kingdom was lacerated. It could barely be called the famous armor of the Left Hand anymore. More like a rag now.

“Plans are expected to be foiled,” Benn said before Roldan could. A pair of daggers he held, one was near breaking by its chipped edges. He pulled a mana stone of the smallest size from his back pocket and hastily absorbed it and held the dagger firmly once again after throwing the empty stone. “But never this foiled.” He hissed from his own dismay.

Roldan raised his free hand to silence the pair. Jerked his head over the edge of the boulder and put into action his training—their training. The three went quiet and focused their senses on the surroundings around them, trying to bypass the unseen parts of the forest.

A twig snapped; a growl followed. Leaves rattled; iron clanged. The wind blew, then a pair of lifeless eyes glared from the distance. Followed by another, then another, and another.

Ingrith almost snapped seeing their dead comrades, now, deader.

“We need to reach the exit, and hope that it isn’t closed.” Roldan looked at the pair, the remainder of his team, and nodded. “We must. We can’t let Lord Cadoc’s choice wane.”

“That is why I told you. That this is not the plan,” Ingrith said. Pulling a pair of crystal orbs from the leather bag slung behind her back. Looked flat at the sword hanging her waist. “The plan is to help Lord Cadoc! We can take that ‘monster’ if we gang up together.” She paused and threw the orbs to their dead—er—comrades. “TOGETHER!”

The crystal orb exploded, tearing legs, and arms from the undead. Leaves, stones, and trees did not fare as well.

“Get ready,” Roldan commanded and raised his sword. He chanted spells to strengthen his legs with wind magic. Increasing his speed, and a fair amount of strength.

Benn was the only fire mage under Roldan’s team, valuable especially against the undead. The question is: could he use his spell to kill his comrade? Or what was left of them?

Ingrith was… well… Ingrith. A Hollow, None-capable as what other people called her. She was a Hollow, yet trained to almost perfection under Lord Cadoc’s guidance. She was fast, good with swords, and persuasion (but she knew that a dead mind can’t be persuaded anymore), smart enough to use Claims to her advantage. Perhaps the only few that managed to create Claims as a purposeful weapon.

Benn engulfed his pair of daggers with fire magic, glowing with red light. He wore a hat for his customary attire, but it seemed that hats or no hats, the undead don’t care at all.

Ingrith unsheathes the sword hanging on her waist. Scrambled in her bag and hastily reached for a vial of red liquid. She then broke the vial and poured it to the surface of the sword. A quick second later, the sword was now burning. Enough for her to last to the exit under the snowy mountain. Roldan was, after all, their boss, commander of her corps, and her lover. She might as well marry him after this mission.

After her preparation, Ingrith took a cube off her bag, swiftly dismantled it to pieces, and tossed them overhead. Light of blue and yellow engulfed the tree, healing, and increasing more of their strength and stamina. She then unbuckled her leather bag and tossed it to her side.

“That’s the last of my Strengthening Claim,” Ingrith said under her breath. “I will follow you to the end, Roldan.” She moved closer and kissed him.

Roldan received and gave, then nodded to her, brushing her short hair and smiled. “For the Hand,” he said.

“I… Y—,” Benn was startled. “I thought you and Orel?”

“Orel’s dead,” Ingrith said. Turning around to face the undead. She broke off from the two and waited for Roldan’s command.

“So does Erroll. And Randall. And Mathias. And Luth,” Roldan said. “And Estrid.” he continued.

“Oh,” Benn commented. “Especially Estrid, I really liked her.” His eyes flared and left the boulder to face the undead to the other side of Ingrith and waited for Roldan’s command. Pair of daggers glowing in red.

Roldan knew, yet he continued. His eyes lingered flat to the two and turned to face the horde of undead.