Hawk smiled as the woman cried. As he rolled out of the bed, she struggled to cover her heaving breasts with the last, torn remnants of her blouse. Seeing this, Hawk began to chuckle as he put on his pants.
     "'Twas only a bit of fun, wench," he said as he pulled on his boots. "No need to get so worked up about it.
     The woman sobbed, then spit in disgust. Hawk strode forward, and grabbed her roughly by the chin.
     "It was fun, lass," he pulled her face within inches of his own, "but don't presume too much. A roll in the hay does not entitle you to special privileges."
     He held her for a few seconds, enjoying her struggles, before shoving her roughly against the wall. Turning, he walked over to the dresser, where he pulled his tunic over his shoulder. Although short (approximately five and a half feet tall), Hawk was lean and well muscled from years of battle training. He was considered attractive, but his good looks were marred by his hard, calculating eyes. He ran his fingers through his short, curly blonde hair, then turned back towards the woman.
     "Don't worry, though," he said as he bent to retrieve his sword and armor. "A promise is a promise."
     "Then you'll spare my family?" she asked quietly.
     "Spare?" Hawk seemed puzzled. "If memory serves, I promised to be merciful. In keeping with that promise, I will kill them quickly. They won't have to worry about being tortured to death."
     The woman shrieked wildly, and leapt towards the warrior. He stopped her easily, sliding a dagger between her breasts.
     "Goodbye love," he kissed her shocked lips, then brutally twisted the dagger. The woman gave a final gasp, then slumped to the ground.
     Hawk retrieved his dagger, and walked outside. Two uniformed guards smiled their greetings.
     "Clean this," Hawk handed the dagger to one of the guards, then turned towards the other. "See to it that my tent is cleaned as well."
     "Yes, my lord," both men echoed.
     Whistling, Hawk struck out for the mess tent.

     "Where is he?" Hawk struck the innkeeper once again.
     "I told you, my lord," the innkeeper licked the blood from his lips. "I know not!"
     "And I told you, idiot, that I know he came in here! A large man, well muscled, by the name of Nys."
     "I know not."
     Hawk sighed, the backhanded the corpulent innkeeper.
     "Listen to me, and listen well. Whether you believe it or not, Nys is my friend. I don't want to hurt him. I have to leave, and I want to see him before I go. He was seen coming in here, so where did he go?"
     The fear was evident in the beaten man's eyes, but he shook his head defiantly.
     Hawk shrugged, then pulled his hand back to deliver another stinging blow. As he did so, he found his wrist was now being held tightly by a large, meaty fist.
     "Ah, Nys, there you are," Hawk said calmly, not even looking at the large, glowering man who towered behind him. "The innkeeper here was trying to help me find you."
     "You can't treat people like this, Hawk," Nys' deep voice grumbled his disapproval. He squeezed Hawk' wrist harder, and watched the small man wince.
     Quickly, Hawk produced a dagger from the folds of his tunic, and placed it at the innkeeper's throat.
     "Let go, Nys." Hastily, the large warrior complied.
     Hawk turned, and regarded his friend sternly. Nys towered over the smaller man, standing over six and a half feet tall. He was thickly muscled, and made most people think of mountains or oxen. His banded mail armor gleamed dully, reflecting the light from the inn's fireplace. The two handed sword that hung from his back could very well have been taller than Hawk.
     "Come," Hawk shoved the innkeeper aside, and strode towards the door. "The army is moving out tonight. We have orders to be in the Dark Dale by next week."
     "How goes the struggle there?" Nys' words formed small clouds as they stepped into the cold night.
     "Very well. The Freemen there have taken many casualties in the latest battles. We're being sent in to give our warriors a break while we mop up the resistance."
     "It doesn't seem right, Hawk." Noting his friend's impatient glare, he continued. "The Freemen own the Dark Dale because nobody else wanted it. Now that they have cleaned out the swamps, and built cities that don't sink, our Lord wants to take if from them."
     Hawk put out his hand, stopping Nys in his tracks.
     "If only one thought manages to negotiate its way through your thick skull this evening, Nys, let it be this one: Never, ever question the actions of Lord Dracos. Those who do end up working the salt mines, or just plain dead."
     They walked in silence for a few minutes, before Hawk spoke.
     "Why do they do that, Nys?" he asked.
     "Do what?"
     "Defend you like that? I could have easily killed that innkeeper back there. Despite that, he refused to tell me where you were. Why would he risk his own death like that?"
      "You really don't understand, do you?" Nys shook his head sadly.
     "Was he afraid you'd kill him for betraying you?"
     "That's not it."
     "Then what?" Hawk asked, impatience creeping into his voice.
     "He likes me, Hawk," Nys said. "He didn't want me to be hurt, and he was willing to die to protect me."
     "You weren't in any danger from me."
     "The innkeeper didn't know that. He was trying to protect me. It's what friends do."
     "No offense, friend," Hawk laughed emphasizing the word 'friend', "but if it ever comes down to the point where it's a choice between your life or mine, I'd chose mine any day."
     "I'd rather not believe that, Hawk."
     The two men entered the army camp, and moved to their tents to pack. Other soldiers looked towards them, and shook their heads. Exactly why the two men were friends, none there could say. Hawk was a cold, hard and driven man. He was capable of doing anything, of committing any act, no matter how cold or bloodthirsty.
     To contrast this, Nys was a gentle, loving man. As he was fond of telling anyone who would listen, the only reason he joined the army was to keep an eye on Hawk, and maybe lessen some of the damage his friend might cause. The men were fast friends, despite their differing philosophies. Hawk hoped that Nys would see how useless it was to protect the weak, and how rewarding it could be to take advantage of his great strength. Nys prayed to the gods each night that Hawk would someday defeat the hate that grew inside him, and learn that the only true strength was in love. Neither man showed any signs of changing to suit the other any time soon.

     Two months later, Nys and Hawk, along with other soldiers in Hawk' unit, stood around a group of prisoners. One of the last of a group of holdouts amongst the Freemen, they had been defending a small, but strategically important, garrison village.
     Hawk examined his prisoners with an expert eye, until he picked out the one man most likely to be in charge. He walked up to that man, and, drawing his short sword, ran him through the heart. The other prisoners gaped in surprise, then surged forward. The press of spears from Hawk' guards persuaded them to step back.
     "That was to let you know that I am serious," Hawk began to walk around the group of prisoners. "If I make a threat, count on me to bear it out." He paused to let his prisoners realize the truth of his words, then continued.
     "You did well in holding back our army as long as you did. You should be commended. While you held us back, you bought time for your women and children, who have run off into the swamps. We can hardly leave them out there, defenseless, in such a dangerous place. You will, of course, tell us where they have gone, so that we can retrieve them, and keep them safe."
     One of the prisoners snorted, then laughed loudly.
     "Not bloody likely," he said.
     Hawk nodded, and one of his guards threw his spear, impaling the defiant prisoner.
     "I will kill you, one by one, until one of you has told me where they are hiding."
     One of the larger prisoners began to cry, then stepped forward.
     "They are on the chor'at, the floating rafts," he sobbed.
     "Chadat, no!" another prisoner yelled. A guard stepped forward, and clubbed the man senseless.
     "Well done, friend," Hawk put his arm around the traitor's shoulders. "Show me these rafts."

     Three days after the woman and children had been found, Hawk' squadron was lined up for inspection. Their armor was polished and clean, and gleamed brightly in the noon day sun. Lord Dracos himself had come to examine the troops, a testament to Hawk's ability as a commander. The surviving prisoners were off to the north side of the clearing, chained up for Dracos's inspection.
     Dracos, garbed in black armor, a deep, rich black cape over his shoulders, walked slowly down the line, examining each soldier in turn. His long black hair waved slightly in the gentle breeze as his deep blue eyes examined each soldier closely.
     Hawk held is breath as Dracos paused in front of Nys, then let it go slowly as Dracos moved on down the line. Before Dracos could take more than a few steps, Nys broke the silence and spoke.
     "A question, my Lord Dracos."
     A sudden hiss filled the air as the assembled guards gasped in surprise. No one spoke to Lord Dracos, Lord-Marshal of the Divine Army, without first being spoken to.
     Dracos turned calmly, and once again scrutinized the large warrior.
     "Yes?" he asked mildly.
     "Why must we cause so much misery?"
     "I beg your pardon?" Dracos seemed bemused.
     "Is it right to take from others? To kill them, and rape their women, and take their land? Why must we travel the world, taking that which others have worked so hard to earn?" Nys stared earnestly at Dracos, awaiting an answer.
     Dracos paused, seemingly pondering the question. After a few moments, he turned, and walked to the head of the line, where Hawk stood nervously.
     "What is his name?" Dracos asked.
     "Nys, my Lord."
     "A good warrior?"
     "My best, my Lord."
     "I see." Dracos pursed his lips, seemingly deep in thought. Finally, he spoke.
     "Kill him." Dracos turned, and walked away, turning twenty paces from the line. He noticed that Hawk had not moved, and frowned. "I said 'kill him', soldier."
     Hawk squared his shoulders, and moved down the line, towards his friend. Stopping in front of Nys, he drew his short sword. Nys stood erect, his eyes staring straight ahead, off into the distance. "Goodbye, Hawk," he whispered, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye.
     As he raised his sword, it suddenly occurred to Hawk that Nys just might be right. Maybe killing the weak and innocent was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it was better to work hard, and earn your rewards, rather than kill to take what you wanted.
     If Hawk's old way of thinking was right, then he had no option but to obey his lord, and kill Nys. But how could he possibly kill his only friend? Hawk turned towards Dracos, and grinned, certain that his own death was but moments away.
     "I will not."
     Silence fell over the assembly. The unthinkable had happened. Someone had defied a direct order from Dracos himself. Moments later, the prisoners gave a ragged cheer.
     "Guards, kill them both!" Dracos bellowed angrily.
     Hawk twirled, sinking his short sword into the belly of an approaching guard. With the other hand, he threw a set of keys into the crowd of prisoners. They quickly set to work unlocking their chains.
     Nys laughed and cried, deliriously happy. He knew they were about to die, but he could die happy, knowing his friend had chosen love over hate. He twirled his two-handed sword expertly, meeting the guards who had swarmed towards him.
     The prisoners, suddenly free, grabbed up sticks and rocks, and attacked the army, trying to defend the man who, less than a week earlier, had defeated their army and captured their town.
     Each man fought valiantly, but they knew the odds to be against them. Parrying a thrust from a spear, Hawk called out a warning to Nys. The big man turned to deal with the soldier who had tried to sneak up behind him, but failed to see a second man throw a spear. Hawk watched in horror as the spear sank into Nys' back. The large warrior grunted in pain, and spun to strike his attacker dead. The second soldier, seeing his opening, lunged forward, delivering a mortal blow to Nys' side.
     Hawk cried out in anguish as Nys dropped to his knees. Covering the distance between them in a heart beat, Hawk caught his friend as he slumped to the ground.
     "You see it now, don't you?" Nys asked, blood bubbling from his lips.
     "Nys....I...."
     "Tell me!" Nys grabbed Hawk' shoulder. Even this close to death, his grip was like an iron trap.
     "I see it," Hawk said quietly.
     Nys smiled, and died.
     Hawk ignored the approaching guard, crying softly as he was struck from behind.

     Hawk woke in a clearing, the hard earth of the forest floor poking uncomfortably into his back. Eyes still closed, he took stock of his situation. His armor was gone, and he could not feel the comforting presence of his sword. Before he could sit up, two guards began to speak.
     "What do you think?" the first asked.
     "Lord Dracos' orders were specific," replied the second. Take him out into the forest and kill him."
     "But why? Why not a public execution?"
     The second guard chuckled. "One of the prisoners got lucky with a rock, and hit Dracos between the eyes."
     "You jest!"
     "'Tis true, I swear it!" the second guard laughed. "Dracos was furious! After he killed the prisoner, he got on his horse, told us to kill Hawk, and rode out of the garrison."
     "Guess he didn't want us to see that he'd been injured."
     The two men were quiet for some time. Slowly, Hawk cracked one eye open to observe his surroundings. Ah, Kalar and Torp he thought. The men were brothers, but one would never guess that by looking at them. Kalar often reminded Hawk of Nys, being large, strong, and a bit of a dim wit. Torp was tall too, but whip thin where Kalar was muscular. Kalar, the older of the two at 33, had deep brown hair and hazel eyes. Torp, even though only 28 years old, was almost bald, and had blue eyes.
     Finally, Torp spoke.
     "But what do we do about Hawk?"
     "Can you believe what he did? He sacrificed his safety, his commission as squad commander, and his life! All because he wouldn't kill Nys."
     "And now Nys is dead anyway," Torp sighed. "Hardly seemed worth it."
     "Think about it, Torp! Hawk was not the one who killed him. When it came down to it, he fought to save his friend. What would you have done if Dracos had ordered you to slay me?"
     Torp considered making a joke, but thought better of it.
     "The same thing, I guess," he replied.
     "I think we should let him go," Kalar's deep voice was firm.
     "We could say we killed him."
     "Who would know?"
     The two men walked off into the swamp, whistling as the headed home.
     Hawk sat up, shaking his head in disbelief. Apparently, Nys' madness was contagious.