Backlash

Haruto awoke from a short, restless sleep. He was even more exhausted than the day before, and his body felt heavier than lead. Worse still, a dull, throbbing pain was growing in the depths of his stomach. He lay there for a moment, staring at the thatched ceiling without moving.

“How long has it been now? Almost three days… three days without eating a proper meal, and I’m already in this state?” he thought.

Three days since the Church’s soldiers had “collected” all the food and kidnapped the village children. Three days of oppressive silence, broken only by stifled sobs or petty arguments fueled by exhaustion and hunger.

The young man struggled to sit up. Every movement required energy he barely had. He ran a hand through his dirty hair, then stood up, staggering. The acrid smell in the room, mixed with the smoke of the faintly crackling fire, made him feel nauseous.

Haruto immediately spotted Norea sitting at the table. She was hunched over, busy preparing some wilted vegetables lying at the bottom of an almost empty basket.

“Thank goodness some people managed to stash away enough to survive… albeit temporarily,” he thought.

Norea’s belly was bigger, her face had an unhealthy complexion, and her eyes lacked their usual brightness. Her movements seemed mechanical and devoid of any real purpose.

“Hello, Norea…” Haruto whispered.

She didn’t answer and carried on with her work as if he weren’t there.

He stepped a little closer, hesitantly. Ever since that fateful day, he had noticed that words seemed to slip past her without even registering.

He noticed the peasant woman’s hands trembling as she tried to peel a half-rotten turnip.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly.

The blade stopped abruptly, and for the briefest of moments, Haruto thought she was finally going to respond.

Then the young woman’s shoulders began to shake, and she let out a sob, followed by a heavier one. A split second later, Norea dropped the knife, which clattered onto the table, before covering her face with both hands.

“I… I… can’t do this anymore…” she stammered, her words lost in her tears.

Haruto paused for a moment, unsure how to react to such emotional distress. He shook his head, then moved close to Norea, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She collapsed into his arms, completely drained, and began to weep uncontrollably.

“I… I’m so sorry, Norea…” he whispered.

He knew, however, that no words or promises would console her or bring back her missing son.

After what seemed like an eternity, Norea pulled herself away with difficulty, sniffling. Her reddened eyes avoided Haruto’s gaze.

“You… you should go help Aristide. He’s been out working since dawn,” she whispered.

Haruto nodded silently, relieved to finally be able to do something other than stand by helplessly.

When he went outside, the cold morning air bit his face. The village seemed frozen in a kind of numbness. There were a few figures moving here and there between houses, but too few for a hamlet that was usually bustling with life. It was as if all the residents of Pauweik had given up and accepted their sad fate.

Haruto finally spotted Aristide at the side of the couple’s house. He was busy splitting firewood near the small barn.

Aristide was swinging an old, rusty axe with unusual ferocity, striking a log with heavy, sharp blows that dangerously lacked precision.

“Need a hand, Aristide?” Haruto called out as he moved closer.

Aristide didn’t answer. He slammed his tool down on the wood again, but this time, with too much force. The already brittle handle split open before snapping with a loud crack.

“Damn piece of junk!” he roared, flinging the remnants to the ground.

Haruto stopped dead in his tracks. He had never seen the farmer in such a state. His face was drawn, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hands were shaking with barely contained rage.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful for once?” he bellowed. “Pick up that damned thing and take it to Bhelgor to get it fixed.”

“Aristide, I know…”

“Do you have kids, Haruto?” he cut him off sharply. “Of course not! So how could you possibly know?!”

A heavy silence settled between them before the farmer turned away, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched. He began gathering the firewood lying on the ground.

Haruto sighed in resignation, then picked up the broken pieces and headed toward the blacksmith’s shop.

As he walked, a clear realization dawned on him: remaining passive was no longer an option if he hoped to survive The Darkness.

A few minutes later, Haruto saw Bhelgor’s workshop a short distance away. He paused briefly and looked at the broken tool in his hands.

“Let’s hope he’s a little more receptive today,” he thought, before setting off again. He covered the remaining distance and stepped inside.

“Hello Bhelgor, it’s me again.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve got another fucking thing to fix!” the blacksmith snapped. “When is he going to understand that I’ve got better things to do?”

“You know as well as I do that he probably needs more time to recover from…”

The blacksmith glared at him, then grunted before shaking his head.

“Forget it… No need to bring that up again,” Haruto said.

Although he had no family, Bhelgor faced the same precarious fate as the rest of the village. The ensuing stress was clearly visible in his strained features and abrupt movements.

“Is there a way we could trade old tools or scrap metal for food?” Haruto asked.

“For the umpteenth time, no. Impossible. Not with The Darkness looming over us.”

“I know, I know…”

The young man recalled the conversations he’d had with Aristide on the subject. He also remembered that, according to the farmer, The Darkness lasted about six months.

Apparently, this season was so harsh that some ill-prepared hamlets could be completely wiped out. During this season, the night reigned supreme, and venturing outside was tantamount to committing suicide.

“There must be a solution,” Haruto muttered, more to himself than to the blacksmith.

The latter chuckled before speaking again.

“You’re wasting your time, kid…”

The comment surprised Haruto more than he cared to admit. He realized then that the craftsman had already given up and that he too had accepted the bitter reality.

Haruto completely empathized with the man’s despair, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to give up.

“I refuse to die here, no! Certainly not in this rotten world! I could always flee Pauweik… But where exactly would I go? No, no… I’m stuck here for now,” he thought.

Then he began to seriously think about it. Among other things, he wondered how people in medieval times managed to survive long winters without starving to death.

“But where did they get their food? By raising animals? No, that wouldn’t make sense…”

The blacksmith noticed that the young man was so deep in thought that he had lost awareness of his surroundings.

“There’s no use trying to talk to him when he’s like this… I might as well get back to work,” Bhelgor grumbled to himself.

The craftsman barely had picked up a red-hot piece of iron when Haruto startled him.

“Eureka! I’ve got it!” he shouted.

Bhelgor let out a curse before glaring at him.

“You’d better hurry up with your nonsense, or else…”

“I… I might have figured out a way to survive The Darkness,” Haruto replied.

The man put the piece of metal back into the fire, then set his hammer down on the anvil before facing his visitor.

“Bullshit!” growled Bhelgor, crossing his arms.

“Let’s just say that a long time ago, the people of my country had to face winters similar to yours. And just like you, their supplies were… rather limited,” Haruto began.

He studied the blacksmith for a moment, gauging his reaction, but the man remained impassive and didn’t raise a single objection. Haruto took this as an invitation to finish his explanation:

“In order to survive, they formed small hunting parties. By spreading out across a vast territory divided into several groups, their chances of finding prey increased.”

The craftsman did not reply right away. Haruto noticed, however, that Bhelgor was frowning. Was this a sign that the man was seriously evaluating what he had just said?

After several long minutes, the blacksmith finally lifted his eyes.

“I know an old trapper. He hasn’t set foot in the woods in ages because of an injury he sustained years ago. But his knowledge of the area could help us,” the man said.

“Excellent! When can we go see him?” Haruto asked eagerly.

Bhelgor looked out through one of the soot-stained windows, guessing the time of day.

“Judging by the sunlight, he should be at home… We might as well go right now.”

About ten minutes later, they reached the trapper’s shack. It was located on the edge of the hamlet and was so small it seemed almost swallowed up by the trees.

Upon entering, they were immediately struck by a mixture of smells: tanned leather, charcoal, and dried herbs.

Sitting by the hearth, an old man with a short, gray beard stared at them intently without getting up. His leg was stretched out in front of him, held in place by a crude brace.

“Bhelgor, is that you?” the trapper asked in a hoarse voice.

“It’s me…” the craftsman replied. He pointed at Haruto before continuing:

“And this kid… He thinks he has an idea of how we can get through The Darkness. Do you think you can help us?”

The man remained silent for a while, rubbing his beard as he studied the young man from head to toe.

“I’m listening,” he finally said, breathing heavily.

Haruto proceeded to explain his plan for organizing hunting parties around Pauweik.

The old trapper didn’t interrupt him once. He simply listened attentively, occasionally nodding in agreement.

It wasn’t until Haruto finished that the man mentioned the old animal tracks, the hidden glades, and other areas favorable for game.

However, inevitably, the conversation veered toward the topic of weapons and the slaughter of animals, which made the trapper cringe.

“Without bows or blades worth a damn… hunting the old-fashioned way would be a waste of time,” he said.

A heavy silence fell over the room, and Haruto exchanged a questioning look with Bhelgor, who simply shrugged.

“It was your idea, kid, not mine…”

Haruto wanted to reply to the blacksmith but paused. The trapper’s words echoed in his mind.

“He’s right… The villagers have no weapons, aside from hoes and shovels…?!” he thought.

But there was another approach. It was slower and riskier, but doable with what the villagers had on hand.

“Couldn’t we dig pits to trap the game? Then, all we’d have to do is finish the job with wooden spears,” he suggested.

The trapper frowned and muttered something unintelligible before clearing his throat.

“It’s rudimentary… But I think it’s worth a try,” he finally conceded.

For the first time since the Church’s departure, Haruto felt something other than hunger stirring within him: a glimmer of hope.

❖

Autumn was on the verge of giving way to winter, and the sun was taking longer and longer to rise above the treetops. When it eventually did, the thin layer of snow covering the forest floor glistened brightly, almost blinding anyone who ventured there.

Haruto wandered among the trees, but he wasn’t the only one who disturbed the pristine white blanket. Aristide and two other men made up the quartet of hunters. All were on the lookout, checking for the slightest hint of game: a trail in the snow, a broken branch, or signs of movement.

“It’s only been a week, and yet… We’re already drowning under a huge pile of meat,” Haruto said with a sigh.

Aristide, who was walking behind him, burst out laughing, then slapped him on the back.

“And it’s all thanks to you, Haruto! Just one or two more catches, and we’ll have enough food to make it through The Darkness.”

The young man felt buoyed by his friend’s renewed enthusiasm, when suddenly, his train of thought was cut short.

“Quiet! With all this racket, the nearby animals will be off in a heartbeat!” growled the leader of their group.

Haruto was about to say something when the stern-looking man raised his hand, signaling the team to hold still. He then gestured toward a fresh trail in the snow.

“Probably a deer… Let’s follow it, and stay alert!” he ordered in a whisper.

The hunters nodded quietly and began tracking their prey.

The sun was nearing its zenith when they finally spotted a beast standing in the center of a forest clearing.

It was a deer, but it was completely different from anything Haruto had ever seen. He froze in place, speechless.

“It… it’s majestic,” he finally stammered.

The size of the creature before him rivaled that of a draft horse, while its antlers seemed to be made of sparkling crystal.

“A kerkryos? Here?! They only exist in Fantasy Frontiers!” Haruto thought.

He shook his head, as if to snap out of it. Only the here and now mattered, even if this made no sense at all. And yet, the beast was indeed right in front of him, in the flesh.

It was peacefully grazing on long grasses that hadn’t been completely covered by snow.

“Wait, where are the others?”

Haruto searched the area for his companions, having lost track of them for a split second.

Then he spotted them getting into position around the glade. They had formed a sort of crescent, leaving their target a single escape route that led toward the village.

Relieved, Haruto began to wait for the signal that would spell the animal’s fate. However, he was distracted by a strange glow in the shadows ahead of him.

“It looks like a pair of small emerald-colored lights,” he thought as he stood up, mesmerized.

The kerkryos seemed to have noticed the same thing. But the young man’s sudden appearance and the crunch of his footsteps in the snow startled it, causing it to flee.

Aristide and the rest of the hunting party then leapt out of their hiding places. The team leader turned to Haruto and glared at him before addressing the men.

“Follow it and make sure to maintain formation!” he roared, and then began running at full speed after the beast.

Haruto cast one last look at where he had seen the strange, luminous phenomenon, but could no longer spot it.

“What were those lights?”

Still confused, he took off to catch up with his companions.

The chase continued for about twenty minutes before the exhausted men finally reached the outskirts of the village.

Haruto immediately noticed that there was no one in the vicinity of the pit. He had a bad feeling, and a chill ran through him.

“Wait, guys! Something’s off here,” he said loudly.

“Damn it! Where are the others?” the group’s leader shouted angrily.

“Obviously not in position as they should be,” Aristide grumbled.

After swearing profusely, the hunters had to finish the job themselves and slaughter the beast trapped in the pit.

The leader of the quartet was still fuming with anger and was determined to get to the bottom of this situation.

After spending another half hour or so gutting the animal and securing the meat, the men headed toward the center of Pauweik.

When the group of hunters, Haruto included, arrived at the well, a shocking discovery awaited them.

Before them stood the entire population of Pauweik, but they were not alone. The despicable Captain Oscar, sitting atop his steed, along with his henchmen clad in the shining armor of the Church of Niowe, were also present, weapons already drawn.

“I never thought I’d cross paths with those bastards again,” spat one of the hunters.

“If they’re back, it’s surely for a good reason. We need to be careful,” Haruto whispered warily.

Aristide, however, remained silent. He seemed shocked, with his fists clenched and his nostrils flared. His gaze was locked on someone standing beside Oscar.

It was Norea, who was on her knees sobbing as she clutched something to her chest.

“Bastards! You’ll pay for laying a hand on my wife,” he roared before lunging like a rabid beast toward the captain.

“Aristide, wait!” Haruto yelled.

But the farmer heard nothing as he charged ahead recklessly.

Alerted by the sudden commotion, two soldiers stepped forward. They motioned their intention to cut Aristide to pieces before Oscar stopped them.

“Restrain him, but don’t kill him,” he ordered. His underlings sheathed their swords.

While his men pinned the farmer to the ground, the captain eyed the other members of the hunting party with disinterest. Then his gaze fell on Haruto.

“Hello, Haruto. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you and eagerly awaiting your return,” he said with an unsettling smile.

“How exactly do you know my name? That’s strange, since this is the first time I’ve spoken to you,” Haruto retorted.

The captain burst into a brief laugh before fixing his gaze back on the young man.

“You’re quick-witted, I see, but let’s get back to the matter at hand. I had an enlightening chat with someone you know well.”

To illustrate his point, Captain Oscar gestured toward Norea, or rather the child she was holding. Haruto instantly recognized the boy.

“Klein! Is everything all right?”

“Don’t waste your breath. Our interrogators were delighted to take care of this little one. He’s actually proved to be quite talkative. A true believer in our cause!”

Haruto studied the boy closely. He looked more like a lifeless puppet than a real person. He seemed unaffected by his mother’s cries, as if cut off from reality. His eyes, once bright with curiosity, now were dull and devoid of even the slightest spark of life.

“You sons of bitches! You’ve brainwashed him with your bullshit!” bellowed Aristide, who was still pinned to the ground.

“Shut up!” ordered a soldier as he kicked him in the face.

“I can assure you that your son has never felt better. I have many questions for Haruto.”

Oscar’s gaze returned to the young man, and he added in a calm but unmistakable tone:

“And his willingness to cooperate will obviously have an impact on what happens next.”

Anxious murmurs rippled through the villagers of Pauweik as Oscar’s henchmen stood on guard. All eyes were now locked on the young man.

Haruto hesitated, unsure how to react to the captain’s thinly veiled threat.

Seeing his reticence, Oscar took the initiative.

“I see… We might as well put an end to this, shall we?” he said, before giving a subtle nod to one of his men.

“At once, sir.”

The armored warrior then approached Aristide, who was still struggling on the ground. He sheathed his sword and pulled out a dagger, which he held to the farmer’s throat.

“No! Stop!” pleaded Norea, who was still clutching her child.

The captain cast a cold, almost disinterested look at the woman, then turned his attention back to the young man.

“Haruto, I’ll ask this only once, so be honest with me. Are you the one behind the ‘device’ in the forge?”

“What’s that got to do with you, huh?” bellowed Bhelgor, who was trying to push his way through the crowd.

Oscar then raised his left hand in a gesture, and his men immediately pounced on the blacksmith. In a matter of seconds, the poor craftsman, despite all his strength, was gagged and silenced.

“I’m still waiting for your answer, Haruto. This is your final warning,” added the captain, flashing the same sinister smile.

Haruto’s mind was racing, desperately trying to find a way out.

“Aristide, Norea, Bhelgor… I’m sorry, but this is the only option,” he thought.

When he opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off. Despite the fact that the two men were pinning him to the ground, Aristide managed to shake his head and shout:

“Get the hell out of here! Run! ”

Without a shred of hesitation, the soldier holding the dagger slit his throat. Like a lowly pig. The poor peasant immediately collapsed in a pool of blood, his body convulsing.

The villagers were frozen in place, unable to move a muscle or utter a sound.

Haruto clenched his fists. A silent rage welled up inside him, but it was quickly drowned out with terror at the sight of these merciless brutes.

“That… that man… was innocent, a simple husband and father!” he exclaimed angrily.

Oscar guffawed.

“Innocent? I don’t think so. Especially not after taking you in,” retorted the captain, who tossed a familiar object at the young man’s feet.

Haruto’s eyes widened in astonishment as he recognized his shoulder bag.

“Holy shit! It was probably Klein who told them where I hid it,” he thought.

Looking up, he met the charismatic man’s gaze. Oscar was watching him keenly, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

“Am I supposed to know what this is about?”

“Don’t waste my time, Haruto. He told us everything in excruciating detail,” Oscar said, casting a sneering glance at the kid.

The captain then moved slowly toward Haruto, stopping a few centimeters from his face. The young man could smell his foul breath.

Oscar then leaned toward Haruto’s ear. The words he whispered sent a chill down his spine.

“If you don’t want that sinner to suffer the same fate as her husband, you’d better confess everything right now.”

Caught off guard, Haruto glanced at Norea and Klein, then at Aristide’s still-warm body. Could he save her?

“I… I…”

“Yes? What are you trying to say?”

“It was… it was me,” he stammered.

Captain Oscar nodded before giving the young man a friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Excellent, that’s one thing settled,” he said with obvious satisfaction.

“Take him into custody!” he ordered.

As the soldiers flanked Haruto, another man in armor stepped close to his commander, a question on his lips.

“And what do we do with the rest of the villagers?”

“The heretics who dared to conspire against our Church must be punished and purified. Leave no witnesses,” Oscar replied.

Haruto was about to protest when he felt a sharp pain shoot through the back of his head. His vision was rapidly becoming dark. The last thing he heard was Norea’s heart-wrenching scream.