Master Tormund carried them out one–by–one. Alessia and the rest of her Brothers tried to help him, but he would have none of it. “This is my burden,” he’d said. So all of them gathered next to the entrance of Last Pass and dutifully watched as he carried each of their Brothers out. From morning to late afternoon.
All sixteen of them, wrapped in mottled grey and black cloaks, laid out on the plateau overlooking Last Pass.
Sky burial was tradition, the logistics of transporting wood up the mountainside wasn’t feasible for cremation, and the unforgiving stone beneath their feet made burial impractical.
Alessia and the rest of her Brothers, Master Vickers and Scribe Willem stood silently against the chilled wind. Master Tormund knelt on one knee, placed his hand on their fallen Brother’s chest, and whispered a prayer. Then he would move to the next and repeat the process.
He hid it well, but he was hurt. As tough as he presented himself during their years at Last Pass, he was still human at his core. She respected him, but couldn’t say she liked him, regardless of his past grievances towards her. He was a man of principle.
He stood and looked over them all as he finished his respects. “Their Hunt has ended.”
“Their Hunt has ended,” everyone echoed.
The whipping wind filled the silence. “Come forward and honor your Brothers,” Master Tormund solemnly said.
Master Vickers took the same approach as Master Tormund had. Scribe Willem stood next to a Brother, head bowed, before proceeding to the next. Konrad walked among them, looking at each one before returning to kneel next to Marcus. Varian was uncomfortable, shifting nervously amidst the bodies, the full scope of the situation had finally hit him.
Damian stopped next to Anders, he had become fixated on him for some reason. Alessia walked closer, kneeling on the other side of Anders. Then she saw it, swelling, bruising and discoloration, he had broken his own neck. Her hand involuntarily went to cover her mouth. She could feel tears building. His pain, to cause this extent of self harm, must have been truly unimaginable.
“I heard the snap, it was louder than the screaming down there,” Damian whispered, shuddering at the memory. “I knew what had happened, I just didn’t know who. If Master Tormund hadn’t told us to strip, he wouldn’t have been the only one.”
It was that bad. Could I do it or would I be here too? No Sister ever has.
Doubt began to eat at her, invasively, worming its way inside her mind, but also something heavier than doubt. Damian would be devastated if she was laying in Anders' place, even though he knew the Trial meant everything to her. He was the first to say that she deserved it, but could he really live with it?
This is exactly why they warned us about attachments.
She couldn’t take it anymore, none of it. She wanted to run back to Last Pass and hide herself away and cry, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Is that how her Brothers would want her to live?
No. No, I will not be a footnote in the Book.
“Are you okay?” Damian asked.
She nodded her head, she had blanked out and he caught it.
He wasn’t entirely convinced, she noticed, but he also respected her space without digging further.
She got to her feet and walked among the rest of her Brothers, silently wishing each of them peace to wherever they had gone.
“Stay with them as long as you wish,” Master Tormund said after a while longer. “Once everyone returns to Last Pass, remain in the main hall.”
Scribe Willem and Varian followed Master Tormund back. Konrad remained beside Marcus as Vickers sat beside him, undoubtedly speaking soft comforts.
“Are you ready?” Alessia asked Damian.
“No, I don’t think so. Not yet. Go ahead and I’ll catch up to you.”
“Take your time.”
She walked back alone. Twilight had set in, covering the sky in shades of orange and pink. She looked to the west. Three weeks to Strongfair. A lifetime ago. She walked in between the stone hawks and through the front entrance. Master Tormund, Scribe Willem and Brother Varian all spoke among each other. Their attention turned to her before resuming their casual conversation.
She walked towards them. Varian was asking questions about how to manage the Presence. Master Tormund seemed to be taking the lead on this, Varian would be out in the field Hunting at some point, and Master Tormund knew that life well before taking his current role.
“Scribe Willem, may I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course, Sister.” He gestured his arm out and began walking from the group.
“I’d like to discuss my future with you,” she said.
He eyed her suspiciously.
“It’s not about the Trial.”
She could see the relief take immediate effect. “Ah, so you’ve reconsidered. Master Vickers said that the two of you spoke about alternatives.”
She nodded. “We did and I’ve come to a decision.”
“Very good, very good indeed,” he said. “What did you conclude?”
“I want to assume Master Vickers’ role here at Last Pass, once the time comes.” The lie came smoothly.
“Not combat instruction?”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Master Tormund is more than capable of that,” she said. “I’m afraid I would only get in his way.”
“I’m very surprised, Sister Alessia,” he said. “Pleasantly so. I just knew you’d push for combat instruction, well the Trial actually, but yet you’ve spoken wisdom and reason beyond your years. In multiple ways.”
“Could you and I plan for a time we could meet? I’d like to understand not only the role, but also go over The Order’s rules, policies, and perhaps some history.”
“Of course, Sister Alessia,” he said. “Tomorrow. At first light, we will take it into the night if you wish.”
“At first light, Scribe Willem,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, Sister. I must admit, I’m looking forward to it.” He paused, rubbing his chin. His black eyes looked alive even through the milky film that was beginning to take them. “It’s been forty odd years now since Master Vickers took the same interest.”
I’m looking forward to it too.
“I admire her. She’s shown me that knowledge can be just as sharp as a sword.”
He nodded, clearing his throat. “Indeed it can be. Oftentimes, it’s the things we don’t know which get us killed.”
Which is exactly what you’re going to help me with.
Master Vickers and Damian entered through the main entrance and made their way towards Master Tormund and Varian.
“Let’s join them, Scribe Willem.”
“Of course.”
They walked together towards the rest of the group. She needed to be alone after they were finished here, to plan the attack, starting slow with him until she could slide in the right questions without raising concerns.
“Brother Konrad?” Master Tormund asked.
“He needs time, Tormund,” Vickers replied. “Brother Marcus is weighing on him.”
Scribe Willem shook his head. “Tragedy, all of them.”
Master Tormund nodded and turned to Scribe Willem. “Please go and gather the medallions for the ceremony while we wait.”
He nodded before shuffling his way down towards his office. The main hall had fallen silent apart from the hiss of torches. Even the hawk banners decorating the entrance seemed still, their own solidarity reflecting the grim reality just outside the walls of Last Pass.
Konrad had entered, shoulders straight. Slowly making his way to the group. He wasn’t trying to hide the tears, instead he wore them like badges of valor. His eyes were fully black now, losing the half bloodshot appearance from the initial aftermath of his Trial.
“Brothers,” Master Tormund said. “Gather and kneel before me.”
Nineteen had gone into the cells below. Three knelt here now. Konrad’s tears weren’t just grief—they were survivor’s guilt made visible. Marcus should have been here. Anders should have been here. Sixteen Brothers that would never wear the hawk.
The clink of the hawk medallions filled the hall as the Brothers waited in place in front of Master Tormund. Scribe Willem stood next to him, offering one. Tormund accepted it and turned to Varian.
Master Tormund lifted the first medallion, silver catching torchlight. “Brother Varian.” His voice carried the weight of sixteen empty spaces. “I give this to you, without hesitation or reservation. Do you accept this gift of mine without second thought, knowing fully the weight of its significance and burden?”
“For all who fell, I accept.”
“Then bow your head.”
Varian did so and Master Tormund placed it around his neck. “Rise for them now, as Hunter.”
Master Tormund took the next from Scribe Willem and moved down the line. “Brother Konrad,” he said. “I give this to you, without hesitation or reservation. Do you accept this gift of mine without second thought, knowing fully the weight of its significance and burden?”
His tears fell more heavily now. His voice cracked but he powered through them saying, “For Brother Marcus, I do.” He bowed his head.
“Rise for his memory, as Hunter,” he said after placing it around his neck.
The final hawk was taken from Scribe Willem as Master Tormund stood in front of Damian. “Brother Damian,” he said. “I give this to you, without hesitation or reservation. Do you accept this gift of mine without second thought, knowing fully the weight of its significance and burden?”
It had all led to this. All of her worry, stress, and sleepless nights concerning him. He did it. Alessia’s hands pressed together without her realizing it, knuckles white. Damian was alive, whole. The medallion caught the light as it settled against his chest. He would be that hero he wanted to be, just like Godrick the Golden. She wasn’t jealous of them, but she guilted herself, shamed her own desire, for wanting to be kneeling beside them all.
Damian’s eyes found hers across the hall. “For those who should stand here with us.” He touched the medallion as it settled against his chest. “I carry their weight too.”
His words had a double meaning she realized, he couldn’t say it outright, but it was meant for her.
“Then rise for them, as Hunter.”
She watched as they turned, embracing each other, not only as Brothers, but Hunters. The knot in her stomach tightened, Damian had doubled down on her merit. Wore the hawk for her, in her place. She loved him for that, but hated the invisible glass that separated her from them. This was more difficult to watch than standing among her Brothers on the plateau, she hated herself for that thought too.
Alessia couldn’t watch it anymore, she stepped backward. Then again. Her heel caught the threshold of the dormitory wing.
“Excuse me,” she managed, turning before anyone could see her face.
She hoped that the eyes she felt on her back were just a figment of her uncomfortable imagination. Once she disappeared from eye-shot into the wing, she started running for her door. She rushed in and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as her feelings finally released.
Alessia stifled the cries. The urge to let them all out was insistent, but she refused to allow herself to completely break down. Her breath heaved as she struggled to tame the passion that threatened to annul composure. That same irrationality undoubtedly overtook Sister Ophelia as she stormed out of Last Pass, and from Vickers’ implication, she might have turned it violent given the right situation.
Calm. Calm. Breathe.
Less intense now, but still there. Inconvenient, not overbearing.
She sat on her bed until her breathing steadied. Sixteen Brothers dead. Three alive. And her, still on the outside looking in. Willem had seemed pleased by her request. Too pleased. He expected her to quietly accept a scribe’s role, to catalog other people’s achievements while her own remained unwritten. Then he had assumed she would take the honor of being the first female to assist in combat instruction.
Hours passed as she considered how to access what she needed from Scribe Willem.
Three soft knocks. Damian’s rhythm, always careful, and never demanding. Alessia went rigid, not wanting the bed to make the slightest creak. Her throat closed around the words she wanted to say.
“Alessia?” His voice was muffled through the wood. “I know you’re in there.”
He deserves to know what I’m planning. But I can’t risk him trying to stop me. I can’t make him complicit.
She bit her lip to keep quiet. A final knock, then silence until his footsteps retreated and the door to his room closed.
Only then did she lay back onto the bed, legs dangling over the side. She’d chosen isolation. Just like she’d chosen to lie about her true intentions with Willem.
The parchment on her desk remained blank. Tomorrow she would begin her real education, but not about administrative duties. She would learn everything Willem knew about the Order’s rules and procedures, piece by piece.
She stripped her clothes and pulled the blanket over her. Tomorrow would require careful performance, and she needed to be sharp.
