Radhildur brought up the rear to the company of knights. There were sixteen battalions from the Commons. Each battalion contained about seventy-five knights, and each battalion broke down into two platoons of twenty-five, with two squads of twelve and thirteen. The smaller squads were used to lure the Celestial corruption. It had seeped into the land and was drawn to negative human emotions. 

Most of the knights had more than one bone to pick given the circumstances, and overall morale weighed heavily on all of them. 

Radhildur grimaced as a few knights glanced back at them, as if waiting to see if they had been claimed by death. 

No such luck, Radhildur bitterly thought. 

They’d been on the road with the knights for a year, ceaselessly traversing the kingdom as they purged the corruption from Reyk. 

Everything seemed to have collapsed on the day of the ball, when their father and Seanharras had ratted them out. There was a surge of power, unlike anything they’d ever felt before, and then it was a whisper of warning. Ku’s gentle voice in the midst of the chaos was unmistakable. “March forward,” it had said.

Then everything went silent in their mind, as if their great patron never existed. 

They’d woken up in the dungeons, slated for escort and then abandonment at the Commons once they’d been equipped with armor. Grimhildis had been there, her grimace ever-telling of the situation. Radhildur had been warned the king would stop at nothing to ensure they died in the oncoming battle against the mysterious plight. 

“At least Frederich had been exiled to Lauf,” their sister had said dully, not quite keeping their attention on them. “I hope he’ll be safe there.”

Frederich…

Radhildur gripped the reins of their mount and refused to show anything other than the stoic straight-forward stare they’d adopted for months. The knights cared not for the emotional distress of the heir who had thrown them all into this mess. Right now, Radhildur had to present themself as someone who could take on the Warping without hesitation and without fear. The knights were owed that much. 

The world around them bore no movement or life. The sound of the cavalries’ hoofbeats, and the half-sludged trudge of the knights’ footsteps were the only sound in that monotone world. The trees did not sway, their bodies stripped of leaves and bark. The earth crumbled under their feet, devoid of any nutrients. There were no birds in the air or insects in the ground. Even the atmosphere itself felt gritty and toxic. The Celestial corruption had rendered the land completely uninhabitable. 

Radhildur pulled the reins tight and halted their horse. The battalions of knights gained more distance between them, and Radhildur watched them go with growing alarm. While the air did indeed feel still and dusty, there was a static that butted against their volatile senses as a Champion. Ku’s power prickled irritably and the overwhelming urge to vomit over-came them. They sucked in a harsh breath and pulled the war horn from their side to their lips. This had become a frequent routine for all of them. Radhildur would sense nearby corruption and warn the knights before leading the charge to beat it back, even just a little. Without end, this had been a relentless cycle for over a year. They all were tired. 

The knights, once full of vigor and the will to overcome this blight, were now shells of themselves. They longed for home and Radhildur couldn’t blame them. 

If they had a home to return to, they would also long for it. But the last of their shelter was stripped away when their father tried to sell them back to Seanharras. 

For just a brief moment, their mind flitted to Frederich and the warmth of his gaze and then they erased it from their mind. 

Right now, they had to decidedly move to guide the knights home safely. They couldn’t afford distractions.

The war horn blared loudly, and the company of knights came to a halt. Delivering a light kick to their horse’s side, Radhildur galloped past the rows and rows of armor stained with ichor. They yanked their reins to pull the horse to a stop at the front. 

Dullahan hefted his shield and siddled his horse alongside Radhildur’s. 

The two of them had made a begrudging alliance over the months. It was limited to stilted sentences and brusque words. But Dullahan trusted Radhildur with the lives of his men, knowing that Radhildur would always lead the charge and take the brunt of fighting back the Warping. 

“They just finished a two-day fight,” Dullahan grunted, eyes scanning the horizon. The sun was almost hidden by the horizon and nightfall threatened them within moments. “It’s barely been more than a day of reprieve.”

“And marching. They’re all tired.” Radhildur gripped the war horn. “I’ll do it. Don’t worry. Go back the way we came, then go north. I think we can skirt the brunt of it.”

Dullahan shot them a glance from beneath raised brows and slacked jaw. “What?”

“I will buy enough time to retreat,” Radhildur said. “I’ll sound the war horn continuously. Keep going until you can no longer hear it. Once I’ve sufficiently pushed back the corruption, I will follow your tracks. This will guarantee our duty is still accomplished.”

Dullahan said nothing, pursing his lips tightly. 

One of the platoon leaders, Radhildur believed he was Andrais of the 2nd Battalion, approached. “Highness, you’re just one person. You cannot push it back alone.”

“Never know until you try.” Radhildur offered them a weak smile. “We cannot afford the lives of the knights. And right now this is what I can do to keep everyone safe. Please, allow me this recompense.”

“Recompense?” Andrais looked to Dullahan, who avoided his gaze.

“If it were not for me, the king would not have sent the knights of the Commons out on this forsaken crusade,” Radhildur said. “I’m sure you’re aware. The soldiers are not quiet about their displeasure of the situation or of me.”

“But—” Andrais tried.

Radhildur shook their head. “Sir Andrais. Please. Gather the other battalion leaders and evacuate everyone back the way we came.”

“Andrais, with me,” Dullahan grunted. “If their Highness has a death wish—then grant it.” 

Dullahan rode down the lines, shouting the retreat order, before disappearing into the masses. Andrais shot Radhildur one last look before following, calling for the battalion leaders to cascade the message. Watching them both disappear solidified a pit growing in Radhildur’s stomach. Radhildur knew they could push back the corruption enough to prevent casualties. 

If I didn’t come back, would they really miss me? Radhildur wondered, inhaling deeply. 

They tried to grasp at their powers blessed by Ku and it felt like water slipping through their fingers. Since Ku’s disappearance, it became more and more difficult to engage in anything other than their ability to shift. Even the beyond-human strength failed them at times, and it was in those times that Radhildur was grateful they’d been so diligent about their training. 

“Move forward,” Radhildur told themself as they drew their sword. The peony hilt, once dazzling, was now rusted and flecked with half-scrubbed gore.

Armed with their blade in one hand and the war horn in the other, they dismounted. The horse was well-trained and knew to follow the knights’ herd. Radhildur slapped its rear and watched as it hurried after the withdrawing knights. 

Swallowing, Radhildur turned toward the growing night. 

The hairs on the back of their neck stood on edge. Planting back one foot, they lunged forward, feeling their form shift into something sturdier and something stronger. Their limbs lengthened and the force behind each step increased. Gripping onto the remnants of Ku’s power, they choked it until it resonated with the Celestial corruption. They were closer. They sounded the war horn. 

Running faster, they could feel the acrid twist in the air. A shift in the atmosphere caused their voice to catch in their throat and a sharp spike of fear pierced through their spine. The war horn cried again. 

One last reverberation of their power as Ku’s Champion warned them and then suddenly the world around them went dark. Black inkiness swarmed their vision and they instinctually sliced their sword across their field of vision. There was a streak of silver, then for a brief moment, Radhildur could see the stars on the other side. 

Yelling out, they summoned their power—or what little of it remained—and enhanced their strength as best as they could. Ichor fell to their feet like the muck of a swamp. 

The Warping that Frederich had predicted. Bodiless and seemingly nonsentient. It ravaged the world, swallowing everything in a dark murk until there was nothing but lifeless gray left behind. 

Each of Radhildur’s movements were practised and automatic. They kept their vision trained forward, breathing in through their nose and out from their mouth; their heavy wool mask covered the bottom half of their face and blocked their breathing, making it labored. Black ichor splashed against their cuirass and the hem of their hauberk. Their greaves were stained from the shins down. 

Slash after slash, hacking and tearing, Radhildur lost count of how long they fought. Lost themselves in the mindless destruction. 

They forgot about their home, Reyk. They forgot about their sister Grimhildis and all of their siblings who had been cast away to different duchies and kingdoms. They forgot about Frederich, who had taken the best part of their humanity with him. 

It was a relieving emptiness filled with the failing of their mind and body against the tide brought about by their Celestial’s fall.

Wheezing, Radhildur dragged themself into the camp. No one else seemed awake aside from the watchmen. Their body was soaked through with ichor. One of their legs was broken, somewhere around the femur. There was a slash along their rib, and the chainmail of their hauberk snagged into the skin. Their hair was torn from the tie they normally pulled it back with. 

Hands and legs shaking, they struggled through the encampment before they found their mount. It was blissfully tied to a post, munching away on a trough full of stale barley. Their saddle bags and belongings were neatly piled beside it. Uncaring if someone had anticipated their return, Radhildur struggled to tear through their saddle bag for their sleeping mat. They unfurled the tattered mat on the ground and collapsed. They didn’t bother to take their helm or their gauntlets or any other armor from their body. 

Instead, they tried to breathe through the pain, forcing Ku’s enhancements to heal the wounds. Their power failed, and they had to consider themselves lucky it hadn’t been during the battle. Maybe they would bleed out on the ground. Then the knights of the Commons could finally return home in the final moments of futility before the corruption ate everything away. 

A sob tore from their chest and they buried their face against the mat, trying to muffle the noise. 

Suddenly, a hand on their back brought them back to reality, and they rounded on the encroacher, ripping their sword from the scabbard. The peony hilt almost glittered in the light of the campfires. 

Andrais raised his hands innocently, as if to calm them.

“Sir Andrais,” Radhildur choked out. 

“We feared the worst,” he said softly, eyes looking over them as his expression pinched. 

“Too bad it came true,” they gritted out. “Sorry I made it back.”

He said nothing, his expression darkening. 

“Is there something you need?” Radhildur tried, their patience waning. The pain in their body flared like lightning. 

“Yes, actually,” Andrais said, looking behind him and smiling a bit. “There he is. Mattieus.”

A young man with pale, red hair approached. Like all of them, his navy uniform was stained with ichor. In his hands was a wooden basin with steaming water and clean cloth on the edge. It was then that Radhildur had a chance to really take in Andrais. In his arms was a box similar to what the medics used. 

“Don’t waste resources on me,” Radhildur said softly. “As you both were.”

“Highness, my name is Mattieus Rennox,” the new man said as he knelt beside their body. “I am the captain of the 13th Battalion.”

A flash of recognition flickered through Radhildur. They could hear the wistful tone in Frederich’s voice from all that time ago. “I became a knight until I was about seventeen.”

“Frederich was my friend back in the day,” Mattieus said, reaching for Radhildur. “I heard that you defended him during the ball, to the best of your capabilities. Thank you.”

They flinched back. 

“Please Highness,” Andrais implored gently. “Devest your garments. We can turn around for now if you’d like. But we’d like to treat your wounds.”

“They will heal,” Radhildur managed, trying to ignore the “eventually” that stayed on the tip of their tongue. 

“As do all wounds,” Mattieus nodded. “But let us help.”

Andrais agreed eagerly. “Day after day you have ridden to the forefront of the lines in a way no other royal has done before. You’ve taken the brunt of the fight, and have done your best to lessen our fallen numbers. Surely you can accept our aid.”

“But this is my fault,” Radhildur protested. 

“It is no one’s fault other than the foolish king,” Andrais said sternly. “I was there the day Frederich and you were outed by Sirs Mikal and Dullahan at the Commons. Yes you lied, but it was only to protect yourself from a wrongfully portrayed reputation gained by your unusual lifestyle. But you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’ve heard much about Rognvaldur and his great deeds, though we’ve never met,” Mattieus agreed amiably. “You are the honorary Knight of the Commons, and we care for our own.” 

Radhildur watched them for a long time, waiting for some sort of ruse or ill-meant jeer. But it never came. The two men waited patiently.

“Turn around, please. Just as a force of habit. My body is the same as yours right now, though.” Radhildur said quietly. 

The two nodded and sat down, before turning and quietly chatting amongst themselves. A weariness that Radhildur had never indulged themself in before overcame them. It felt as though they’d stumbled upon a safe moment and they were allowed to close their eyes. 

They must’ve dozed off because Andrais’ voice broke through the haze. “Highness, we need you awake while we treat you. You can rest afterwards. I promise.”

Radhildur believed him.