Aleister spent a considerable amount of time searching for his father. He almost gave up, but decided there wasn’t exactly any sense of urgency for him to do anything else, and thus, continued his search. This gave him the time to process the events that had occurred.

  He realized how he almost actually died in the initial fight. If he didn’t react fast enough, the gnoll's spear might have done more than just graze him. Also, that entire fight was sloppy.

  Gnolls weren't smart. Something he confirmed by the way they attacked. They relied purely on the strength of their bodies and tried to brute force the attack. Aleister didn’t have those same natural gifts, yet as he reflected, he realized, he ended up fighting in a similar fashion to them. There wasn’t any presence of technique or strategy in the way he fought. He just hoped to kill the gnoll before it could kill him.

  If the enemy was more skilled, he would have died for sure. He shook his head. His practice and experience with his father still weren't enough. He needed more experience fighting other opponents. Ones that wanted to injure him, if not kill.

  The more important thought that raced his mind, did he feel bad upon taking any of their lives? Almost. Maybe if they weren't trying to eat him alive, he might have some leniency. Although that was only in retrospect. In the heat of the moment—nothing.

  Almost the same when he took the life of that slaver many years back. He had plenty of time to think about that kill. His initial thoughts were to forget about it as he pushed it to the back of his mind. However, on those sleepless nights, that night always replayed in his head. He thought about killing that man, and the more he thought, the less he felt.

  However, that was what caused him to worry. Why did he feel nothing? He took the life of another man. Even if that man was nothing more than the scum of the earth. Even lower than the feral gnolls he slaughtered. He was still a man, had friends, possibly a lover, or a family. He had goals in life. The same as him. Despite that—nothing.

  That was what ate him on those nights. Not the fact that he killed someone. But the fact he felt nothing. The same feeling when he had when he killed wild animals. A job. Cold. Lifeless. Necessary.

  Maybe he just didn’t want to feel out of place. Or feel like a bad person. If this was how he felt years after killing that man, how was he supposed to take revenge?

  Aleister sighed. Why did he think about this now? He should revel in joy at the village’s victory. Well, he didn’t know how the other side faired, but the village wasn’t in flames, and that was worth something at the very least.

  Whatever. He kicked the dirt on the ground and tried to get his mind off the topic. What to think about, though? When would he get to sleep? Soon, hopefully. Is Delilah okay? Probably. She was younger than him, so she should be in the town hall.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Son?” Gilmore asked, breaking his grimaced look with widened eyes.

  Aleister looked up, startled. He was so in his own head that he didn’t even notice his own father. “Oh, dad! Sorry, I was just thinking about things.”

  “That’s normal,” Gilmore said before changing the topic. “You don’t look beaten up, so I’m hoping you’re here bearing good news.”

  “Good? Debatable. So I'll go with neutral,” Aleister said but paused for a moment. “But by how you look and sound, something must be up.”

  “Perhaps." Gilmore stroked his goatee. "I’ll tell you what I’m thinking to the best of my ability, but first tell me what you came here to say.”

  “The battle at the southern gate is over. We killed every last gnoll with only a few casualties.”

  “That sounds promising. Did you notice anything odd about the way they attacked? Or did anything seem off?”

  Aleister raked his head back and forth. “No...well—I don't think so. They fought in a reckless and aggressive fashion which seems about right from what I know.”

  “How reckless?”

  “What do you mean, how reckless? They fought like, reckless, reckless. They didn’t seem to care if they lived or died. That seems **normal to me, correct?”

  “Yes, that is normal." Gilmore continued to stroke his goatee. "If there was nothing else out of the ordinary, then I might just be overthinking things.”

  “Yeah, there wasn’t anything else that stood out to me. Oh, actually there were a lot more gnolls attacking us than what you expected." Aleister shook his hand. "About fifty to sixty just at our gate/ Although, it could be closer to forty, if I'm being honest. I couldn't get a good count of the gnolls that died outside of the walls for, obvious reasons.”

  “That is odd. I based my predictions on any gnolls coming in and attacking from the sides. Which they should have done. Since they chose to still attack, even though they knew, we knew about them. I think something is amiss.”

  Aleister stood there awkwardly as Gilmore stared off into the unknown. Thinking about their situation. “So...what now? ”

  “I’m going to head over to the northern gate and check up on the situation there,” Gilmore said.

  Aleister followed him over. Upon arrival, he noticed that the battle was over, and likely had been over for a while. Examining the situation, it looked like there were fewer casualties overall.

  “Ah, there you are, Gilmore!” said a rough yet high-pitched voice.

  Aleister rolled his eyes. He recognized the ancient man dressed in loose green robes as Branne. He carried a basket full of various herbs, creams, salves, lotions, and bandages, as per usual.

  “And is that you too, little Al?”

  Aleister forced a smile and said nothing.

  “How is the situation here?” Gilmore asked.

  “Good. Only four dead. I actually sent Athas to go look for you, but I’m afraid he’ll be searching for a while since you’re here.”

  A voice behind him shouted, “Oh, thank Lilith!” The scurried footsteps revealed Athas.

  Branne chuckled as he said, “I take it back.”

  “Sir Gilmore,” Athas said, panting, out of breath. “I’ve been looking all over for you. But I learned of some bad news.”

  “And? Spit it out, quick!” Gilmore asked, noticing the look of terror on his face.

  “One villager spotted another wave of gnolls inbound towards the southern gate!”

  This announcement put the surrounding villagers on full alert, as many of them moved.

  “And, and along with them, they claimed to see two even larger than normal gnolls, sir,” Athas said. “He believes they are, T—Thalls, sir!”

  !

  for catching a typo!