The Primeval Era-Chapter 36: Blood and Stone I

Lukaku, the right hand of Chieftain Morgana, was currently staring at the haul behind him as he made a temporary camp for the night.

A bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing, its flames casting dancing shadows across the surrounding stones. The fire had been built large and hot, not for warmth but for visibility. In the darkness of the Lands of Stone, a bonfire was both beacon and barrier, drawing in those you wanted to find and warning away the beasts that prowled the night.

A few Flesh Awakening Warriors moved about the camp with the practiced efficiency of men who had done this many times before. They checked the perimeter, gathered additional fuel for the fire, and kept their weapons close at hand. None of them relaxed despite the apparent security of their position.

They knew better.

The Lands of Stone did not forgive complacency.

And guarding a group of women near a tall tree at the edge of the firelight were two Flesh Awakening Warriors whose expressions showed exactly how they felt about their assignment. They stood with spears ready, their eyes occasionally wandering toward their charges with looks that held nothing good.

The women were clustered in a circle, holding each other with the desperate grip of those who had lost everything and clung to whatever remained. There were seven of them, ranging from young women past twenty summers women who had seen perhaps thirty summers. They wore the simple garb of Dross tribes, rough-woven cloth wrapped around their torsos and treated hide secured at their waists with braided fiber.

Their clothing was torn in places, evidence of the struggle when they had been taken. Their hair was disheveled, their faces streaked with dirt and tears that had long since dried. They pressed against one another as if shared body heat could somehow protect them from what was coming.

Behind them rose an Ancestor Pillar, one of those impossibly tall trees that grew in places where Mana concentrated over countless ages. Its trunk was wider than the bonfire’s light could fully illuminate, and far above, its crown of luminescent leaves cast a pale green glow that filtered down through the darkness.

The ambient light made the scene almost beautiful. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

Almost peaceful.

If one ignored the terror in the eyes of the captive women.

If one ignored the blood that stained the stones nearby.

Lukaku did not even want to call them women.

What they were was merely Dross.

But man, were they exquisite.

He made a habit of picking at least one from every village he passed across. It was one of the privileges of power, one of the rewards for serving Lady Morgana faithfully through years of conquest and expansion. The Dross existed to serve their betters, and what better service could they provide than comfort to a Warrior who had spent days traveling through these wretched backwater territories?

As he looked at them now, they looked skittish and scared.

That fear was something he had seen on many Dross.

It was always the same expression. The wide eyes. The trembling lips. The way they tried to make themselves smaller, as if shrinking might somehow make them invisible to predators who had already marked them as prey.

He found it amusing, in a distant way.

They still had not accepted their place in the Great Hierarchy. They still harbored some foolish hope that things might turn out differently, that mercy might be shown, that they might somehow escape their fate.

They would learn.

They always learned.

Having followed Lady Morgana here from a Vassal Tribe, the life Lukaku knew was much grander than anything these Dross could imagine.

He had been born Sworn, a member of a tribe that had pledged itself to the Dominion of Crimson Stone three generations ago. His family had served the empire faithfully, and in return, they had received access to cultivation resources that Dross tribes could only dream of. Techniques. Remedies. Training grounds saturated with Mana.

He had reached the Second Circle by his twentieth summer.

He had been noticed by Lady Morgana herself by his twenty-fifth.

Now, in his thirty-second summer, he served as her right hand in this mission to expand her influence into the unclaimed territories beyond the empire’s formal borders. It was dirty work, dealing with Dross and their pathetic little tribes, but it was necessary work.

And it had its compensations.

He glanced at the women again, already deciding which one he would take first tonight.

The one with the dark hair, he thought. She had spirit. He had seen it when they captured her, the way she had fought despite the hopelessness of her situation. Breaking that spirit would be entertaining.

But first, there was business to attend to.

He had captured so many in the last tribe they passed because he had actually managed to be lucky enough to find the culprits who should know what happened to Jax.

It was the funniest thing.

He had gone to a tribe that Jax had been given to scout. When his forces asked questions, they learned that Jax, the Butcher, had passed by not too long ago with his group. The Dross had said the Butcher announced he was going to conquer a nearby mountain, climbing its slopes to claim whatever treasures waited above.

Lukaku had found that ridiculous.

Jax was cruel and efficient, yes, but he was not stupid. He would never climb a moving mountain without Lady Morgana’s explicit orders. The beasts that dwelt on such mountains were far beyond what a peak Flesh Awakening Warrior could handle alone.

So Lukaku had instantly set off in the direction the supposed Butcher had left.

Using his power as a Bone Tempering Warrior, he had quickly caught up to the traveling party. His enhanced speed and stamina allowed him to cover ground that would take normal men days in mere hours.

And what he found was ridiculous.

The armaments and weapon of Jax were being worn by an injured Flesh Awakening Dross. The distinctive armor, the serrated bone blade, all of it adorned some pathetic tribesman who could barely stand upright. And this imposter was leading a band of equally pathetic Dross around him, all of them trying to play at being the feared Butcher and his forces.

The deception might have fooled other Dross tribes.

It did not fool Lukaku for even a moment!