The Source<\/strong>...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: What are the Economic Consequences of Germany's Ban on Chick Killing?<\/a><\/p>\n
It wasn\u2019t always like this. Alaric had once walked proudly in Roman sandals. His golden hair marked him as a valued auxiliary soldier in the esteemed Third Gallic Cohort. He deftly handled the legion's spears and auxiliary cavalry, earning respect among the disciplined ranks. He fought as one of Rome\u2019s best until the General betrayed him.<\/p>\n
For all the blood Rome spilled, a single order undid him. The culling of his people\u2014the defiance of the Gallic tribes. Words spoken over wine in the legion\u2019s tent blindsided Alaric: \"Their fields stink of rebellion. We shall strike not only fear but silence into their hearts. Leave no village standing.\"<\/p>\n
The commander, Valerius Quintillus, gave the order casually, as though the people were no different than the crows that scavenged their fields. Alaric had frozen in that moment. The conflict within him broke into a storm. His loyalty to Rome faltered. His loyalty to his own people surged. He fled that night, stealing his blade and a rooster gifted to the camp by a soothsayer. It was said the creature would crow three times when death approached the one who betrayed its keeper.<\/p>\n
Verdimont lay impossibly silent when Alaric arrived, save for the occasional rush of wind through the pines. The village was nestled in a clearing, its circular dwellings crowned with sod roofs that blended seamlessly into the landscape. Smoke drifted upward from the largest of these structures, a hall where the Druids gathered beneath oak patterns carved into its wooden door.<\/p>\n
The Druidess Catira greeted him. She stood sharp and graceful, dressed in robes of natural fabric dyed with the deep hues of berries. Her black hair fell long, with feathers and animal bones braided into the locks. Her clear, fierce eyes took in Alaric slowly before landing on the caged rooster.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou come bearing omens. Why?\u201d Her voice rang like the low cry of an owl.<\/p>\n
\u201cI seek judgment,\u201d Alaric replied. \u201cFor crimes done in Rome\u2019s name\u2014and against its will. For sparing your people, but failing to stop the slaughter entirely.\u201d He clenched his fists. \u201cThe man responsible, Valerius, grows fat on stolen grain while the soil drinks blood. I want him to fear what storms I bring.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment as if measuring his soul. Then she motioned for him to follow her inside the hall. The light of the fire blazed on their faces, casting dancing shadows over walls plastered with ancient runes. The rooster ruffled its feathers uneasily in its cage.<\/p>\n
Gathered within the circle of flame-lit Druids, Alaric recounted his betrayal of Rome, his escape, and his evolving allegiance to the rebellion in the woods. The rooster remained eerily silent, its usual crow silenced in the sacred space\u2014a sign considered ominous.<\/p>\n
Catira knelt before him, holding a bowl of sacred water swirling with strange herbs and powders. She murmured incantations over it, her lips speaking a language older than the stones that rested beneath the hall.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou seek the gods\u2019 wrath against Valerius,\u201d she intoned, her voice rising like the hum of a gale. \u201cBut revenge is never one-sided. Do you understand? When you summon death, it takes more than one sip from the chalice.\u201d<\/p>\n
Alaric had no illusions of innocence. \u201cLet it take whom it may. My cause is just.\u201d<\/p>\n
Catira gestured for him to release the rooster. The bird flapped briefly before settling into the center of the circle. Its movements were studied as a sign from beyond. A curious silence fell, the anticipation crackling like static in the air.<\/p>\n
When the bird crowed\u2014once, twice, then thrice in swift succession\u2014a gasp swept through the room. Catira\u2019s eyes widened. \u201cThe cursed general\u2019s fate is sealed. But Alaric... you have awakened forces you do not yet understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
Days later, Alaric approached the Roman camp under shadow. Cloaked in his Druidic-reinforced resolve, with the rooster\u2019s feathers braided into his tunic\u2019s green hem, he was no longer merely a deserter. He was Judgment incarnate.<\/p>\n
Valerius Quintillus, seated at his opulent war table, met Alaric\u2019s icy glare moments before the rooster swooped into the tent, screaming into the silence. The general\u2019s blood splattered the table, more from fate than from Alaric\u2019s blade, but the rebel leader didn\u2019t flinch. The crackling, cursed bird flew thrice around its gasping victim before fading somewhere into the night.<\/p>\n
As Alaric melted back into Gallia\u2019s forests, he lived in the new uncertainty of a man who had tipped the balance between the mortal and the divine. The rooster\u2019s shadow followed him always\u2014physically gone, spiritually tethered. But his people? His tribes? They whispered his name as more than a man. He had become a storm that had bent gods and Rome alike to save their sovereignty.<\/p>\n
Deep in Verdimont, Catira prepared for the day Alaric\u2019s shadow returned, as the gods never left debts unpaid.<\/p>\n
Genre: Fantasy\/Adventure<\/em><\/p>\n The Source<\/strong>...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: What are the Economic Consequences of Germany's Ban on Chick Killing?<\/a><\/p>\n
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