One leg in the afterlife, one leg in this one. That’s how he’s felt for the last few decades. Not knowing when the black-dressed men would knock on his door. Might as well save them the trouble. They feel no fear, they know no remorse. All they have is duty and faith.

He didn’t have anything to leave behind. No wife, no children, no temples. Only a vague memory in the children that he laughed with. But that was a lifetime ago now. Now they should be at an age where they would see the first streaks of whiteness in their hair. Those of them who still lived. Times were not easy on townsfolk and gods alike.

He only had that dog. It was a shepherd’s dog, well trained. He found it on a farm a couple of years ago. Bandits had ransacked the house, stealing the kettle and everything of value. Lesh came in looking for food but found a mut, lying next to its owner’s lifeless body. He found nothing to eat, but got a companion. Hope he called it. It had the eyes of a soul that’s suffered but still carried hope. Much like its new master.

It was morning and that meant she’d come looking for food. Most days there wasn’t much more than a piece of rock-hard bread and a fruit to share between them. Their empty stomachs sang together when they counted the crumbs for the day. The soldiers must have had some rations left, he thought when the pain of hunger ran through his body. I’ll soon be deprived of it, he thought. But Hope would still be hungry.

He pulled his leg and felt the rude touch of the earth again. He went through the camp, grabbing every half-eaten piece of bread, cheese or dried meet he found. The bodies of the soldiers who he set against each other were still warm, some still had a little spark in their eyes. Some had bled out, others were clinging to each other, swords rammed in their chests. You’ll take my life but I’ll take yours too. Some had tried to run only to be stabbed in the back. Lesh looked at his handywork in amazement.

He had killed these men, but at the same time he hadn’t. He didn’t lay a finger on them. Actually he hurt only one of the soldiers. He picked his target carefully and slid a knife in his throat while the man was pissing behind a house. Malek, his name was. Back in the day he wouldn’t have had to do even that, but old age doesn’t come just for your knees.

Once the seed of chaos was planted, getting the general mad was just a matter of time. He set the soldiers against one another and sent the only person with some authority over them flying in the chasm.

It took them a surprisingly long time to slaughter each other. Even their lord was laying in the dirt covered in the mixture of dirt and blood that spread all over their camp. They left him there but not before they cut off his bloated fingers to get his rings. Nothing of value was left in the camp. The lord’s tent where a flag with an apple tree hung half-torn was ransacked.

But Lesh had no use of jewels and gold anyway. He couldn’t eat them. His treasure was hidden in soldiers’s pouches and pockets. A slice of bread, a piece of half-eaten dry meat and occasionally a fruit. Everyone had tucked away something to have during the night or the next day’s march. Soldiers’s pockets were his treasure trove.

He and Hope would have a good lunch today. Then on a full belly, when the dog is napping outside the hut, he’d come back and throw himself in the chasm.