Chapter 59: Changes
My name is John. Or at least, that’s the name I go by now. I don’t remember my real name. The earliest memory I have is of a battlefield—bloodied and strewn with rotting corpses, the stench so thick in the air it felt like you could choke on it. I can still smell it sometimes, even when I close my eyes.
I survived by scavenging what I could from the dead—armor, weapons, anything of value to keep me alive. I cleaned the blood-soaked swords and polished the battered shields for a meager coin, thinking that would be my life forever. Just another nameless face, another body waiting to rot in the dirt. But then, seven years ago, everything changed.
That’s when I met him—Master. He took me in, along with a few others, and under his command, we no longer had to worry about where our next meal would come from or if we’d have a roof over our heads. It wasn’t just shelter and food, though. Master gave us purpose. He forged us into something more than the scavengers and thieves we once were. Under him, we became soldiers. No, we became something fiercer.
Master was a force of nature on the battlefield. They called him the Crimson General, and it wasn’t an empty title. He was death itself, sweeping through enemies like a blade cutting through wheat. I remember one battle vividly—he led only 5,000 soldiers, and yet, he decimated an enemy force of 40,000. Half of those deaths were his doing alone. He didn’t need an army; Master was the army. He stood there, drenched in the blood of his enemies, with an expression that could freeze the sun, and from that moment, his legend was born.
He’s terrifying, no doubt about it. But God, if I don’t respect the man with every fiber of my being. There’s something about standing in the shadow of a giant like him. I may be insignificant, another face in the crowd he likely doesn’t remember, but serving him? It’s an honor. One that fills me with pride every single day.
Three years ago, everything changed again. Master was gravely injured, and after that battle, he vanished without a trace. The castle was thrown into chaos in his absence. His so-called family—leeches, all of them—chased us out like we were nothing. With nowhere to go, I ended up working for a blacksmith. The pay was a joke, and some days I didn’t eat at all. I slept in the dirt more times than I’d care to admit. But even that wasn’t as bad as the battlefield.
I thought that was it. My life had returned to its miserable routine—until I heard the news. Master was back. The Crimson General had returned, and he was calling for his servants to rejoin him. I can’t even begin to describe the joy that ran through me when I heard that. I wept, truly wept, knowing I could serve him again. There was no question in my mind. I was going back.