The Grim Reaper

I eagerly removed the red uniform of the Dragon Cavalry officer, donning the uniform of the Huntsmen Cavalry. I walked up to the large mirror in my home and gazed at my reflection.

"I look quite dashing, don't I?" I chuckled. "Don't you think so, Tina?"

The young maid, who was engrossed in a book, didn't even glance at me. Tira was a 22-year-old young girl with long red hair cascading down her shoulders, and her purple eyes were captivating. She was undeniably beautiful but always gave off an air of aloofness. "Remember, you are going to war. The British won't withdraw from Turin just because of your good looks," she replied coldly.

"Is that so?" I turned to the maid. "What if I walk up to the British camp in this intimidating military uniform, would it scare them off?"

Tira looked up at me. "No, they would just shoot you dead."

"Then my men would be devastated, charge forward, slaughter the British troops, retake Turin, and avenge me. Beethoven might even compose a piece in my honor."

Tira still didn't smile. "To your father, your life is worth more than any piece of music."

"Just joking," I shrugged. "When will my father return?"

"I won't be back until 7 in the evening at the earliest," Tira said.

"But I have to leave immediately," I said as I strapped my sword to my waist.

"Wait a moment," Tira got up from her chair as if remembering something, hurried to her room, and came back holding an unfolded letter. "This is a letter for you, written by a military officer named Napoleon."

"You read it," I stated rather than questioned.

"The letter was delivered by a Corsican merchant with no envelope, so I accidentally saw some of its contents," Tira explained.

I suppressed my anger and draped a snowy white woolen cloak over my shoulders. "Then please read it to me."

"Dear Marcus," Tira read aloud. "Perhaps now, my end is near..."

The cloak slipped off my shoulders and fell to the ground.

I rushed forward to snatch the letter, my heart pounding with fear as I read on. In the midst of the Corsican conflict, the side of Pauli had gained the upper hand, pushing their opponents to a desperate situation. Napoleon hastily wrote this letter before fleeing with his family. The letter provided no further details. I crumpled the paper in my hand in frustration. Napoleon couldn't possibly be in danger, that was beyond question, but the news still left me feeling uneasy.

At that moment, Aub walked in, urging me to depart quickly.

I nodded at Aub and turned to Tira. "Goodbye, Tira."

"Goodbye, sir," she replied.

I regretted not saying goodbye to my father.

I mounted my new warhorse and rode up to Dion and Aub.

"Your horse..." Aub's eyes widened.

"It truly stands out, doesn't it?" This large black horse was a farewell gift from Balas. It stood a head taller than my previous mount, with muscles rippling beneath its glossy black coat, yet its temperament was remarkably gentle. "Balas thought he was giving me a horse, but in reality, he's given me a pair of wings."

"What's its name?" Dion asked.

I hadn't named it yet. "How about Nightshade?"

"Such a strange name," Dion remarked.

Ignorant, I thought to myself. "Then let's call it the Grim Reaper."

"Death Reaper," Dion repeated, "That name is even more inappropriate. The Grim Reaper leads people to hell, too ominous."

"It will only bring death to our enemies," I boasted, urging my horse forward and leaving my two companions behind.

Two weeks later, we arrived at a small inn near Marseille, intending to spend the night there. However, as the night grew deeper, I found myself unable to sleep no matter what. So, with a heavy heart, I walked out of my room and made my way to the simple stable to find the Grim Reaper.

It was a clear night, with a crescent moon and thousands of stars adorning the sky. The Grim Reaper galloped along the rugged road, its black mane fluttering in the strong wind. Napoleon's cursed letter kept flashing in my mind. Had she escaped unharmed? Where was she now? Did she know I had almost been sent to the guillotine? If she did, would she cry for me? Like an ordinary girl.

A forked lightning suddenly struck, illuminating half the sky, followed by a rumble of thunder. It was time to go back, I realized, as I turned my horse around and raced back towards the direction of the inn, the howling wind in my ears. Rain fell from the gloomy sky, resembling countless shining silver needles under the lightning's glare.

At that moment, I keenly felt the superiority of carriages over horses as a means of transport. The Grim Reaper carried my trembling self forward, my breath coming out in pale puffs. Soon, an estate surrounded by white walls loomed ahead.

The rain suddenly intensified, stinging my eyes and pounding the ground relentlessly. Lightning, like a spider's web, tore through the sky, followed by thunder that made the earth tremble.

The Grim Reaper halted in front of the mansion's gate, and I immediately dismounted, pounding on the door frantically. "Open up, open up, open up..."

After about five hundred knocks, a man around thirty years old opened the door. He frowned at me, his face contorted in anger. "Who are you?"

"I am an officer en route to Toulon and sought shelter from the rain," I replied, gripping the reins soaked with water.

The man glanced at my uniform and shoulder insignia, then quickly reached for the reins and shouted into the dark courtyard, "Kelly, come and lead this gentleman inside."

Kelly appeared promptly. She was a slender girl with long golden hair and violet eyes. "You must be freezing, sir," she said gently. "Please follow me."

Kelly led me through the courtyard and into the warm interior. Several young, strong men were gathered around a table, eating and drinking. My unexpected arrival seemed to please them.

"Who's this?" one of the men asked.

"I came here to seek shelter from the rain," I said somewhat awkwardly.

"Please follow me to a room on the second floor," Kelly said, picking up a candle and leading me up the pitch-black stairs.

I had a vague sense that something was amiss.

The room on the second floor was warm and cozy, with a soft feather bed, a table covered with a red tablecloth, and a large chest in the corner. The fireplace, filled with wood and coal, crackled with a lively fire. The tablecloth moved, and the largest dog I had ever seen emerged from underneath. I couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

Kelly smiled. "This is Buck. If you don't want to deal with his teeth, please don't take anything from the room without permission."

"I'd much rather deal with you," I said.

Kelly smiled back. "You go warm yourself by the fire. I'll prepare some food for you." With that, she descended the stairs in the darkness.

Thanks to the big dog named Buck wagging its fluffy tail a few times and looking friendly, I dared to walk past him and approached the fireplace to warm myself.

I suddenly heard a faint scratching sound coming from the corner where the chest was placed. It sounded like a mouse, I thought to myself, not paying too much attention to it. However, the annoying noise persisted, incessantly bothering me. So I walked over to the chest and lifted the lid.

I must be having a terrible nightmare! That was my first thought upon opening the chest.

Nightmarish fear froze me in place. Curled up inside the chest was a French officer, or rather, the remnants of a French officer. He struggled to raise his bloodied head, looking at me with his remaining left eye. "Run...," a weak voice uttered from between his incomplete, bloodied teeth.

The dreadful dog Buck suddenly arched its body, emitting a deep growl, saliva dripping incessantly from its sharp, white teeth as the gray fur on its back rose like a tumultuous wave.

I finally understood how the Axeman felt after being scared by the landlady. Damn it, the dagger had just been unsheathed after much difficulty, but it kept shaking in my trembling hand. Taking a deep breath, I summoned all my strength, cut open the officer's throat, and ended his suffering.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the darkness at the other end of the staircase. Instinctively, I glanced towards the window. Thank goodness, it was open.

I took a step towards the window, but out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a gray shadow. Buck leaped into the air, and we both hit the ground simultaneously.

As the large dog was thrown aside, its sharp teeth had already torn open my right hand and forearm. After breaking free from the dog's grip, I instinctively ran towards the window. Outside, it was pitch black, but without hesitation, I jumped out.

Below was a slippery muddy ground, with icy cold water pooling. I struggled to stand up, surrounded by pitch darkness where I couldn't see my hand in front of my face.

In this darkness, I heard the deathly wail. Amidst the rain, frantic conversations, and Buck's furious growls, it wasn't very loud, but I heard it nonetheless. Suddenly, lightning illuminated the scene, and in that brief flash of light, I saw the location of the stables. Death was kicking and screaming in the corner, pulling tightly on the reins entangled around itself. I sprinted towards it.

"Where are you going?" a voice suddenly sounded from the darkness.

I turned to look and saw a shadow within the shadow, a silhouette of a dark figure.

"Where are you going, sir?" the shadow asked.

I did not answer, quietly drawing the sword at my waist. The shadow lunged at me. In that moment of life and death, fear left me. I raised the sword, unleashing a sudden, hysterical force and thrusting forward. The blade pierced through the chest, blood gushing out from the stranger's back.

That person let out a faint groan, then slumped softly to the ground, taking the sword from my hand as he fell. Suddenly, I was mesmerized, staring blankly as the warm blood dripped from my hand. "This... is life."

The raging wail of Death pulled me back to reality. I retrieved my weapon from the dead man, severed the rope holding the warhorse, and led it outside.

Several men were whispering by the open gate. I leaped onto the horse. Death immediately perked up its ears and charged forward. The horse and rider galloped through the courtyard, into the darkness and pouring rain, splashing mud in their wake. In the blink of an eye, that nightmarish estate was left far behind.

The muffled sound of muddy horseshoes quickly caught up in the darkness behind me. They were on my trail. But Death was faster than any other horse. It glided effortlessly through the slippery mud, up a gentle slope, decelerating, then accelerating, the hooves churning rainwater and sludge. Lightning illuminated the scene once again, the howling wind tearing apart the silvery curtain of rain. Through the downpour, I saw eight men in pursuit.

A cursed river suddenly appeared ahead, blocking the way. The dark river water spun endlessly in the wind. Normally, I would never consider wading into it. But this time, I had no choice. Death neighed and leaped into the water. After a few steps, a piece of driftwood floating downstream struck my shoulder, nearly unseating me.

"Dion will lead people to hell," the voice of Dion echoed in my ear, with a chilling and horrifying tone that sent shivers down my spine. The rain kept pouring, stirring countless ripples in the rushing river.

Death continued to arch and leap, struggling to pull its hooves out of the muddy riverbed, striving to make its way to the opposite bank but finding it difficult to move forward. The black sky wept, the long river murmured in response.

Somehow, somehow, the great black horse suddenly neighed and leaped, its hooves alternating forward, then climbing up the riverbank. The vast wilderness unfolded before me. The pursuers behind me splashed water as they crossed the treacherous river, but the eight individuals had now dwindled to five.

I dashed into a forest, racing along a narrow path, letting the icy branches lash against my cheeks. At the end of the path lay a cliff.

As I reined in to survey my surroundings, the estate's bandits closed in. Three of them wielded knives, one held a rifle, and only Kelly was unarmed.

"Death," I whispered to my loyal steed, "today is not my time to die. Help me escape this peril."

The great black horse seemed to understand and tossed its head, racing towards the cliff edge, accelerating relentlessly... I dared not think about the chasm ahead, just urging the horse forward. The cliff loomed closer, with two dark, muddy streams pouring down under the heavy rain. At the last moment, Death mustered all its strength and shot forward. In that soaring moment, I couldn't help but scream. Not out of fear, but due to an indescribable passion. Horse and rider soared over the cliff, landing unscathed on a bed of soft sand.

I turned my horse around, watching as the pursuers reined in their horses at the cliff edge.

"Sir," Kelly called out, her voice subdued by the rain, sounding very weak. "Your dinner is ready, why leave?"

"Dinner can wait," I shouted through the rain, "let me serve you a bullet first."

I raised the rifle to my shoulder and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out, and one of the riders across from me fell from his horse.

Another gunshot echoed from the other side, and I felt a heavy blow to my left chest, followed by intense pain. I opened my eyes in the damp sand, struggling to maintain consciousness. Death stood tall beside me, incessantly pawing at the sand with its hind hooves. Through my hazy eyes, it appeared as a horse formed from black mist.

After some time passed, two riders from the estate emerged from the dawn, brandishing gleaming swords in their hands.

I heard someone calling my name, or maybe I dreamt it.