Once again, the soldiers gather at The Illustrious Mop, the tavern and inn located within the limits of the third wall. The moment Marcus and his group enter and take a table, they are surrounded by their brothers-in-arms, several waitresses, and casual patrons drawn in by the troop's victorious demeanor.
"Is the third path really as hard as rumored?" a female soldier asks, her attention fixed on Marcus. She isn't a coward, but Hilda's warnings had left her pensive and uneasy about the upcoming training sessions.
"I don't know if we should talk about it," Marcus says with a nervous smile. But after a couple of mugs of mead, the young soldier feels confident enough to speak up. "Well, it's true, it is pretty tough!"
"And there's a real risk of dying," Balto says, taking a sip of his beer. "But for well-trained soldiers like us, it's a challenge we can handle."
"Including taking down the giant undead," Pit adds with a booming laugh, raising a fist. "Glory to Stoicus, first shield of humanity!"
"Glory to Stoicus!"
The surrounding soldiers join the chorus of cheers. A great mood settles over the room. A pretty waitress asks if the undead was big and scary, and Balto doesn't hesitate to add a few extra ribcages to the story to make himself sound braver in the retelling of the fight.
"Though this guy right here is the one who deserves the congratulations." Balto reaches out and gives Marcus a hard slap on the back. "He delivered the killing blow to the beast. You should have seen him, a total hero."
Marcus smiles nervously at the torrent of praise. It wasn't an unpleasant experience, but he still wasn't quite used to it. Part of him wondered how Captain Axiel could handle the fame without feeling overwhelmed.
"The undead was already on its last legs; Pit did most of the work," Marcus says, successfully deflecting the attention to the big guy. Pit raises his arms to show off the marks the bone had left on his armor plates.
With fewer eyes on him, Marcus allows himself to finish his drink and notices Harris quietly slipping away. Marcus calls out to the kid; Harris jumps and looks at him with wide eyes, as if Marcus had caught him in the middle of a sin.
"I have to go. I can't wait. I'm sorry." Harris turns away and hurries out of the tavern. Intuiting that something might be wrong, Marcus is momentarily tempted to chase after Harris to ask what's going on.
"What's up?" Balto asks, seeing him so deep in thought.
"Harris left... I think the training really got to him."
"Actually, the kid has been like this for a couple of weeks, sneaking off whenever he can..."
"Huh? Really...?" Marcus doesn't understand how he missed that.
"Odds are the kid got himself a girlfriend. He's at that age," Balto says with a half-smile.
"If that's the case, why wouldn't he tell us? We could give him some advice. We're all brothers-in-arms, and I don't want Harris feeling left out of the group."
"Maybe he's just afraid another man might catch his girl's eye." Balto leans in and places a hand on Marcus's shoulder.
Marcus completely misses the point Balto is trying to make.
...
Harris sneaks through the darkest and most decrepit alleys, constantly checking over his shoulder to make sure no one is following him. His soldier's instinct tells him there are shadows stalking him from the corners. Likely thieves. But he doesn't worry about them; bandits usually look for vulnerable prey, whereas Harris has armor and a sword. There are easier targets for a criminal to aim for.
There are still corpses in the deepest, poorest areas of the kingdom. A trinity of skeletons impaled on wooden stakes decorates the end of an alley—a reflection of the cruelty of the invaders, who took more time than necessary to torture humans. Harris stares at the impaled bodies for a couple of minutes. His rational side screams at him:
You see?! They are monsters, and none of them can be redeemed!
But a more sentimental side tries to understand the invaders, even justify them. Don't humans also commit atrocities in war...? Isn't it a mistake to lump an entire species into the same bag?
"I'm an idiot," Harris mutters, lowering his head. He knows the right thing to do would be to go to Captain Lynel and report his mistake, but his legs and his heart push him deeper, all the way to a dilapidated cabin with a half-collapsed roof. Before entering, he checks his satchel: he has wine, water, cheese, bread, along with a little rice and boiled potatoes. "I wish I could bring her more..."
The cabin door is off its hinges. Harris knocks on the wood three times to signal it's him. Carefully, he slides the door aside and steps into the cabin. Outside light pours in through the hole in the roof. On the floor, there is an unlit oil lamp, wooden buckets, a sponge, and a few scattered books. On a makeshift bed of stacked sheets, a slender, short figure stirs and sits up.
"You said you'd arrive early this time. I've been waiting since dawn, not like I can do much else."
Despite the complaint and the foul mood in her voice, Harris can only muster a goofy smile at the sound, which he considers melodic. The boy apologizes from the bottom of his heart.
"Did you bring the priest this time?" The figure stands up and approaches the light shining through the roof. She limps, using a makeshift crutch made from a table leg. The reason? She's missing a leg. Despite the missing limb, Harris still blushes when his gaze meets the girl's eyes. The young soldier quickly looks away.
"No, I'm sorry. I still haven't found a way to pay a priest and convince him to keep quiet."
Shadowkiss keeps her mouth shut and narrows her eyes, as if thinking about what to say.
The dark elf's missing leg was a consequence of the end of the invasion. Their army began to crumble, and all the humans were infected by a second wind of fighting spirit and murderous fury. Shadowkiss tried to escape in flight, but an archer wounded her leg and brought her down. She fell into the alleys, breaking a few bones. She managed to drag herself to the abandoned cabin, though her chances of survival were slim.
Even if her body had miraculously healed, she was still surrounded by humans who wouldn't hesitate to turn her into ground meat to feed the dogs. At least until Harris, during a patrol in that area of the kingdom, stumbled upon her by chance.
Lying in the shadows, stained with blood, her leg turned into an increasingly foul-smelling strip of flesh, and with red eyes that glared at the soldier with a mix of wrath and desperation. In that first encounter, Harris brought his hand to the hilt of his sword, but he couldn't bring himself to draw it.
Despite Shadowkiss's disastrous state, and the innate hatred a soldier was supposed to feel toward a cruel invader, Harris fell deeply in love with her.