A Result or Effect, typically one that is Unwelcome or Unpleasant.

He immediately advances towards me, closing the gap in but an instant.

I'm nervous, very much so. My hands are shaking. But this is exactly what I trained for. I assume the proper stance.

He swings that club of his in a wide sweep. One I am able to duck under rather easily, thankfully.

The winddown of that powerful but very clumsy swing of his should be the perfect moment for my swift reprisal, yet I simply can't seize the opportunity. I back up a bit.

I am yet again confronted with the truth, the very same I had already drilled into my very being sparring against Loren.

Until I'm fully grown, everyone I will face will have me beaten in two aspects: power and range.

Any direct blow will spell the end for me. Even if it doesn’t kill me outright, it will leave me unable to avoid the one that does. I have no choice but to respect his power and keep well clear of his swings. That, however, only amplifies the other issue.

Having both longer arms and the strength to wield longer weapons, I have to get well into his reach if I am ever to strike him with that dagger of mine. Even if he leaves himself open after a swing, the space I need to evade safely makes closing the distance in time rather unlikely.

Another swing, this time from up above. I pivot to my right. The blow slams into the ground, kicking up the sand where I’d stood but a moment before.

"You're a slippery little rat, aren't you?"

Well spotted, my long-haired foe; being elusive is indeed the one quality I without a doubt possess. Training with both Eleanor and Loren has seen to that.

If I can't capitalise on his blunders, I'll just have to move in myself. He will try to stop me, but I'll just have to parry and follow that up with a riposte.

He swings yet again, this time from below in an upward motion. I slip to the side, catching myself with my free hand, my palm sinking into the sand. The sand, huh? I think I know how to get that opening. I clench my fist and hide it under the cloak.

This time I'm the one rushing at him. He braces himself, ready to intercept me. Stopping but a hair's breadth before his range, his swing misses me yet again. This, however, is the exact moment my left hand whips forward, hurling a fistful of sand right into his face.

"Ah, you little shit!"

Enough grains of sand got into his eyes; he is flailing about wildly. Now to close the final gap.

I advance forward, keeping a close eye on his next swing. I place my left palm on my blade, readying myself for the incoming blow.

Parrying isn't about stopping a blow dead in its tracks; you are merely trying to gently guide it to a place where you aren't. Something quite achievable, even with my lacking strength.

In a fluid motion like water, the club slides right off my blade, finding its resting place in the sand right beside me. There it will remain as well, for in almost the very same instant, my dagger’s tip buries itself deeply into the man’s wrist. With a painful grunt, he lets go of his weapon; he is disarmed.

He stumbles backwards, one hand pressed desperately against his profusely bleeding joint. Not giving him even an inch, I lunge yet again at him, driving my blade deep into his right thigh. His leg buckles under his weight, and he crashes to the sandy ground.

I take it his eyesight must have somewhat returned; his bloodshot eyes look at me with unmistakable fear. For he knows what must happen now. He tried to kill me and failed. I cannot let him walk away either; he'll just tell on us.

Taking a life is always a sordid affair. No matter the circumstances or reason. The least I can offer is a relatively swift end. I press my blade to his throat, ready to do him in...

"Papa?"

A soft whisper drifts across the courtyard. Almost inaudible, yet to me it feels like the loudest sound I’ve ever heard. I stay my hand.

"What are you doing?"

The source? A small girl, who can't be older than 5, stands at the edge of the courtyard. She's staring right at me with tears in her eyes. Or rather, the man I am currently about to kill.

"We have to kill him! You can't hesitate now!"

My hand is shaking, trying to break free from my control.

"At least let me do it! Isayah!"

The man, clearly recognising the voice of his daughter, regains his will to fight. With strength probably even greater than before, he grasps my right hand tightly and forces the dagger away from him. Try as I might, I am still no match for him in a contest of strength.

He yanks me by the arm and slams me to the ground beside him, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs and the dagger from my hand. Our positions now reversed, with me looking up in fear at him, he places his hands on my neck and starts choking me.

It does take an awfully long time to die from asphyxiation, with every second of it being nothing but sheer agony. I struggle to the best of my ability but achieve nothing.

There’s something strangely intimate about it; you see nothing except your assailant transfixed on you until you perish. He looks at me with a look of pure desperation and pain. Weird, I would've thought to find a fair bit more anger in there.

Isha must be sorely disappointed with me right about now. I think she's saying something right now, but I can't really seem to make out the words. I even swore I wouldn’t hesitate, and yet my weakness is now the reason I'm lying here. I'm nothing but a failure after all, it seems.

Just as I was about to accept this fate of mine and hoped not to be reborn again, the man's eyes widen and his grip softens. He grunts in pain and collapses on top of me shortly after.

"Isayah! Are you okay? Please be okay..."

Oh Eleanor, I'm everything but okay right now, but I'll live. I take a sweet, deep breath. I try to stammer out a few words to reassure her that I'll live, but nothing escapes my bruised throat. So instead, I just give a weak wave from beneath the heavy, motionless body pinning me down.

"I'll get him off you; give me a second."

With her amazing strength, she drags him off of me.

"Weird, his leg is all tangled up in some plant..."

I still feel rather lightheaded, but I get up anyway. I have to take stock of the situation.

Firstly, long hair is dead, no doubt about that. Eleanor is currently removing her weapon from his back. That would be why he released me; his body simply couldn’t go on after her final blow.

Indeed, his left leg is completely entangled in some kind of dried thorny vine, the thorns penetrating his skin and drawing blood. Weird indeed. Not only are plants of any kind a rarity inside the walls, but this courtyard was empty when we entered it. At least I think so...

Secondly, the bald one is currently very busy bleeding all over the sand. He has cuts and bruises all over his body; Eleanor must have finished him rather quickly. She, on the other hand, seems completely unscathed, at least as far as I can tell, obstructed by that cloak.

Thirdly, I can't spot the small girl anymore. She must have hidden, though it's for the best. Eleanor might actually try to get her if she was still within sight...

Lastly, I feel a pressing urge to apologise to Isha, but something's wrong with her. She's gone, at least kind of. While I can't see her anywhere, I still feel her presence, if only a bit subdued. I hope this is only a temporary issue; I'd feel awful if that were to be my last interaction with her.

Just as I was about to ask Eleanor about it, we heard Loren's signal. Seems like this awful fighting wasn't in vain at least...

"Let's go home, Isayah."

I take her hand. I'd like nothing more than that right now.

The fire of my distraction still smokes in the distance, so we encounter no further problems exiting the human quarter.

Loren awaits us at the spot we started this awful day. He already has discarded his mantle, so we do the same. As we make our way to the cave, he starts chatting.

"Good job! Did you have any trouble?"

If me almost dying due to my own shortcomings doesn't count as trouble, I'm not sure what does. Eleanor, however, smiles at me and puts a finger to her lips.

"None at all, Loren. Isayah's idea with fire worked like a charm; I only had to take out two stragglers."

He looks genuinely impressed.

"You got two of them? Should I call you a warrior now?"

He laughs. She blushes. And me? I am unsure how I should feel right now.

When we reach the cave, Loren proudly shows me the haul: a large supply of food and water, enough to sustain the resistance for some time.

"And of course, I'll make sure you get enough for Rinah as well. Everyone knows this wouldn’t have been so easy without you or maybe not even possible at all. So they are fine with it. And if they aren't, I'll make sure they are; you have my word."

I achieved my goal. While it doesn't fully absolve me of my feeling of guilt, my heart certainly feels a little lighter.

We also got more weaponry and luxuries. All the things only the humans had we now possess. Most interestingly, we got a few bottles of wine. Why someone would use the few favours they could cash in to get these in here, I do not know.

As the next few days passed by, I lingered around the market. I wanted to find out if the overseers had caught on to what we did. They seemed to be roughly aware about what went down but showed a surprising degree of apathy.

From both the idle gossip from every corner and the triumphant stories of the other team, I learnt they also killed a few humans that resisted. But even together with the two Eleanor and I faced, the direct casualties still numbered fewer than a dozen.

Compared to how many simply perish within these walls from being overworked, however, that number is so insignificantly small the guards didn't really care.

The true consequences of my actions only revealed themselves slowly in the months that followed. Deprived of everything they had, the human slaves faced the very same dilemma I did. Unable to care for the weakest among them, they had to take back what was lost to them or let them die.

I knew exactly how they felt and, even more importantly, their process of thought. All it took to dash any hope for them was to instruct Loren to post a few sentries along the boundary. They never stood a chance. After a few attempted attacks of their own, all ending in disaster, they had no choice but to accept defeat.

I never got to know the exact count of people dying due to my actions that day, but it must have ended up in the higher hundreds. And more will die, elf and human alike, all to the end of securing a future for those I love.

I am still unsure how I should feel about all of this. I wish you'd tell me what to do, Isha...

"..."