Chapter Five: A Leader of Flame and Lies
As I spoke with the confidence of kings, I was screaming inside:
A plan? You fool, what plan? You're just acting! I wish I actually had one!
But no one doubted me. Their eyes sparkled as if I had risen from the ashes of prophecy.
As sunset approached, the faces changed. No more laughter. Some were sharpening rusted swords, others muttering prayers in strange tongues. As for me, I wore my filthy cloak with the pride of kings and painted a mask of false resolve on my face.
The man with the braids came close and whispered:
"Are you ready, Ashborn?"
I replied in a deep, fake voice:
"I wasn't made for battle… battle was made for me."
Then I raised a rusted sword made of sand and shouted:
"Whoever does not fear death… step forward!"
Screams and laughter. Fear and excitement. One name echoed:
"Ashborn! Ashborn!"
Then I roared like a volcano:
"Whoever dies without blood on his blade… I'll defile his corpse!"
The laughter exploded. I silently saluted Sandor within me.
We marched into the unknown. Our steps sank into the dust, and our hearts into dread. I acted like I knew the way, while I chased a star I didn't even know the name of.
At the ambush site, I ordered the men to spread out — just as I had "planned"… or at least pretended to. I looked to the sky:
"Oh Lord of liars and deceivers… don't fail me tonight."
And the sun disappeared… then chaos began.
Screams, clashing steel, barking, the stench of blood and fear… My men ran like panicked chickens. And me? I entered the camp not like a ghost — but like a fool.
"Who are you?!"
"I'm the one sent to burn this place!"
I pulled out the barrels of oil, lit them… and the fire did the rest.
"It's magic!" they shouted.
My men fought like there was no tomorrow — not out of bravery, but despair.
I yelled: "Kill every one of these bastards!"
Then the White Hound stepped forward.
Huge, holding an axe like a door, his face masked with bone, voice like gravel:
"You the leader? The one who burns and lies?"
In that moment, I wished I'd peed before the fight.
Thank you, Braid-Man, for reminding me to.
I said,
"Me? No, I'm just the man who'll shut your barking mouth."
He raised his axe. I raised my trembling sword.
But behind him… a barrel exploded.
Fire. Magic. Luck? I don't know.
He screamed, staggered, and I lunged with a blind strike that hit his shoulder.
Then I shouted: "Kill the beast!"
He fell under their blows. They tore off his mask.
A bald, scarred face, one eye, the other just a hollow socket.
"That was the White Hound?"
I said, "He was a hound… now just a bone."
The men laughed. I laughed with them.
Not out of courage — but because I hadn't pissed myself.
We gathered the bodies, the steel, the wood… everything. I told them to store it — even the corpses. Who knows? I might need them.
I stood atop a hill, watching the flames.
Braid-Man approached.
"The prophecy came true… you're a leader of fire."
I wanted to say, What prophecy? I'm just a bearded fraud!
But I gave him the smile of a true leader and said:
"This is just the beginning."