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Bachman lay in bed. The flame of his life was flickering out. Death licked his skin, passing by.
Shiver.
Bachman trembled down his body. His eyes darkened, frequently losing focus. Sensation in the distal ends of his extremities like fingers and toes dulled.
"I…” Bachman opened his mouth as the stench of death escaped through the small opening. His thigh was now rotten into a black clump of flesh.
“…just wanted to live a life of not having to envy others. I hated the thought of spending the rest of my life fishing for a living. What's the point in working my ass off and struggling, if it's only to barely scrape by? Am I wrong?"
Urich sat beside Bachman, with Pahell standing behind. They were now safe.
After shaking off their pursuers, Pahell's party arrived in Duke Vaskerling's territory, which was now controlled by General Ferzen. Duke Vaskerling readily pledged loyalty to Varca Aneu Porcana, following Duke Lungell's declaration of neutrality. Given the uncertain outcome of the war, siding with Prince Varca was not a bad choice. In fact, many local lords joined the prince's camp with their forces.
"Bachman, I've brought you a priest. He's waiting outside; just say when," Pahell said...
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