Few knew why the Sea of Sorrow initially received its name, but the heat was almost unbearable, leaving the entire caravan of soldiers in a state of dripping sweat. Anyone entering this desert without the necessary supplies would not take long to succumb to the desert's brutal and hostile conditions.

Weeks of travelling east were followed by three days of travelling through the desert searching for the fabled Manticore. The trip had been costly. Two soldiers had already succumbed to the harsh conditions. Sandstorms had smashed through the camp as the sun gradually descended towards the horizon, the caravan was devastated by the wave of dust that enveloped them engulfing the soldiers with apparent ease.

Grumbles were starting to emerge throughout the camp. The crescendo of discontent battered morale constantly like a tidal wave. The question of the existence of the Manticore was ripe and the legitimacy of the crusade was constantly ridiculed. Were it not for Searmundr's and Vermund's birthright and ability to execute anyone for low treason, a mutiny would have taken hold by now.

The mercenaries were the loudest to complain, despite the promise of a large purse, many wondered if the horrific conditions of the trek across the Sea of Sorrows were worth it, missing out on the potential of other lucrative jobs.

Ethelston refused to complain, instead taking every opportunity to teach Mutt the art of survival and swordsmanship. Despite the squire's age, Ethelston found his intellect and dialogue thrilling to engage with. Mutt's enthusiasm to learn and absorb as much information as possible appeared to encourage Ethelston's already inflated ego.

If the Manticore did not exist, despite the incredibly uncomfortable conditions that he had to endure over the last few days, meeting the passionate but honourable Mutt had been a surprising and incredibly rewarding experience.

Should the mythical creature exist, however, what it would do for Ethelston's reputation and purse would be beyond his wildest dreams. Once returning from the horrific desert, Ethelston had already entertained the idea of visiting Beatrice again in celebration of his reputation.

Was it Beatrice? Or Bethany? Perhaps Brunhilde?

He had become considerably confused once he began attempting to get the beautiful, but wild, mysterious archer's attention. Her exceptionally strong and intimidating physique fascinated Ethelston, and each time he engaged in conversation with her, her rebuttals appeared to encourage him more to attempt interaction.

During his travels, he had received some rejection by beauties far and wide across the continents, but the archer was so brutal in her refusals that many of the other mercenaries had snickered at Ethelston's embarrassment. This humbling turn of events, while demoralising, seemed to invigorate Ethelston, especially in the harsh, unforgiving environment.

"Aryya, have I not told you how beautiful you look in this sweltering heat? You do not sweat, my dear, you glow!" Ethelston complemented the olive-skinned archer.

"Two swords, you talk too much," Aryya replied. The woman, easily as tall as Ethelston, pushed him aside as she attempted to proceed toward the rations wagon. It felt like he had been hit by a rock, but as Ethelston glimpsed toward her, he could see a small twinkle in her eye. It appeared that his persistence was gradually paying off.

The mood was low as the sun reached its highest. Rationing was now strongly taking effect among the cohort and water supplies were running low. Watching the intrepid Aryya defy all rationing guidelines and push past boys pretending to be men, Ethelston was reminded that his lips were parched and cracked, but as he saw Arrya twist a soldier's wrist behind his back, stopping short of snapping it in two, Ethelston's thoughts were elsewhere, concentrating on something that didn't appear natural.

A small fluttering sound echoed effortlessly through the wind but seemed ever slightly out of place compared to the howl of the breeze.

"Does anyone hear that?" Etheslton asked anxiously.

With all eyes watching as Aryya dropped the soldier effortlessly to the floor, no one responded at all to his inquiry.

Hoping to see if anyone had noticed his words, Ethelston looked around, with only Sir Searmundr's bitter blue eyes descending on his.

"It's the wind, you dumb shit!" Sir Searmundr spat out.

Ethelston frowned but chose not to react. Sir Searmundr had been spiteful, condescending and disrespectful to him the whole journey, but then that was to be expected. As well as losing the respect of his soldiers, he had also lost his pride and dignity in their duel, something that he was undoubtedly eager to regain.

The flutter echoed again, and this time a couple of the other mercenaries started to look around, unnerved by the strange but distant noise.

Looking around, Ethelston saw nothing in the sky apart from the piercing bright light of the sun. The endless clear red sand remained devoid of life, echoed by the blurring blistering hot desert which stretched for miles around. The sound must have been simply another illusion to mess with tired minds.

This time, however, the fluttering grew louder and louder, Ethelston was, once again, drawn to it, almost blinded by the bright white light that appeared to be determined to sear his eyes. Squinting to reduce the blindness, he could see it, a small shape floating beyond the light.

"DEFENSIVE FORMATION!" Ethelston screamed, trying to spur the soldiers into life.

Chaos and carnage littered the battlefield. The bright sun hid the beast's descent, the huge swirling dust cloud that was stirred up by the huge bat-like wings and the thunderous landing of the vicious beast caught the party completely unaware. The screams from two crushed soldiers as paws the size of a man's torso landed heavily on them pierced through the dust cloud like a knife through butter. It was quickly dispelled as the brutal, ferocious roar from the enormous lion's head blasted around in all directions.

Despite its size, its blinding speed as its dagger-sized claws ripped through the unsuspecting soldiers, easily maiming them in their tissue-like armour, caused substantial panic amongst the ranks

As four bodies remained lifeless on the floor, and dust whirled fiercely around them, they each failed to see the tail of the beast raise up high. Its scorpion tail towered high in the sky, its obsidian black stinger pointed forward, and its needle, the size of a human head, was ready to strike.

In an instant, the stinger viciously lunged forward, pinning Sir Vermund down on the ground, before striking two more helpless men, unaware that the Manticore had already disabled a number of soldiers in mere seconds.

Another two soldiers, helpless in the pandamonium, found that their lives were cut tragically short, and as the carnage appeared to be at its worse, the tremendous wings opened wide and flapped wildly, causing the dust and sand to erupt into the air. The Manticore's immense strength in its wings blinded the soldiers as they huddled toward the floor and as the beast pushed itself high into the clear blue sky, the carnage and chaos, covered in golden and blood-soaked sand, was starting to become visible and it left the remaining soldiers in a state of panic.

As the dust settled, the Manticore was nowhere to be seen, but its brutality had remained. Bodies lay on the dusty floor, torn to shreds leaving sprays of blood painted across the sand. Some of the men struggled with the sight, spewing what little food they had eaten onto the dusty ground.

Sir Searmundr took one look at the devastation and followed by the look on his broken soldiers' faces. Blood had started turning the golden sand to a crimson red, and that had all happened before he had realised that they were being attacked.

Bewildered and flustered, Sir Searmundr looked around frantically, desperately attempting to gain some understanding of the situation. With Sir Vermund incapacitated, he was now in charge.

Shaking his head, sand fell from his golden hair, and a wipe of his face left a smudge of red stained by the back of his hand. The beast had come, caused carnage, and left flying into the distance, and yet he hadn't even seen what it had looked like. What type of creature could cause so much chaos and devastation without allowing itself to even be attacked?

"Fuck this!" he cried, before grabbing ahold of one of the very distressed horses. Jumping on top of it, the horse seemed desperate to avoid any sort of physical contact, but as Sir Searmundr grabbed a hold of the skittish animal's reigns, he managed to get it to trot into the empty undisturbed sand in the distance.

Sand spewed from the horse's hoofs causing a miniature dust cloud to burst from behind and as the horse galloped into the distance, the spirits of the soldiers fled into the desert with the knight.

The remaining soldiers stared in disbelief, while several of the mercenaries immediately pushed their way to the supply cart. They stole as much as they could carry and followed the trail that Sir Searmundr had left behind.

Brushing the sand from his stinging eyes, he looked around at the decimated cohort that was bereft of people and morale.

Only a handful of soldiers remained, along with the archer, Aryya and a mercenary carrying the most pointless broadsword that he had ever seen.

Amongst the chaos, however, he watched the sand-covered Mutt, attempting to assist those who were discombobulated by the recent events. They had been mauled by a terrifying beast, watched their colleagues slaughtered and seen their superior officers incapacitated or fleeing for their lives, yet the young Mutt continued on as if nothing had happened, keeping composed while others lost their theirs.

Thoughts of following Sir Searmundr had flitted across Ethelston's mind. It seemed the logical step, to abandon the quest and attempt to survive the harsh wastelands, but as he watched the fearless young squire bring order to chaos, he knew he could not leave Mutt to fend for himself at this dire time, it was up to him to bring as many of the remaining soldiers back as possible.

"SOLDIERS TO ME!" He called in an authoritative voice.

Initially, there was no movement, except for lost eyes that descended upon Ethelston, but as he stood tall, his black armour a beacon in the sandy desert, gradually the soldiers stood, carefully edging their way to the mercenary that oozed confidence.

Aryya was the first to move, standing beside Ethelston, her toned body next to his athletic build, they appeared as deities in the forgotten sands. Mutt followed her actions, and soon, all of the remaining soldiers stood and watched, awaiting Ethelston's instructions

"CIRCLE FORMATION!"

The immediate clanging of shields and spears seemed to inspire the soldiers to move into their formation around Ethelston, Aryya and Mutt. Standing beside their comrades, with their shields rattling against each other, the pale-faced soldiers appeared to gain some courage once again, and with their spears raised high to the sky, a sense of purpose and action started to reappear.

Holding a few spears he had acquired from the dead, Ethelston passed them to Mutt. There was a strange look of fear and awe as Mutt looked towards Ethelston.

"What's your name, boy?" Ethelston asked.

"Mutt." Mutt reminded him, confused and surprised by the question.

"What's your real name, boy!?" Ethelston demanded.

Mutt's huge smile plastered itself on his face as if it meant the world to him to be truly known by Ethelston. He puffed out his chest, and with pure confidence, he blurted out "Peyton Whitehill, my Lord, first son of Baron Farleigh Whitehill."

Ethelston smiled, lent down and held his head. "For the next ten minutes, Peyton son of Farleigh Whitehill, you are my squire. Hold these spears and pass them to me when I require."

At that very moment, there was no Manticore prowling the skies, or miles and miles of deserted wasteland, just the pride of a young man as he eagerly grabbed a hold of the spears that Ethelston had accumulated, "Yes, my Lord... uh... Ethelston," he eagerly replied.

Despite wanting to revel in Mutt's pride, the fluttering noise that had become so distinctive before started to reappear over the sound of the howling desert.

This time, the men were ready, with their spears and heads held high, they were alert and prepared for the huge beast to attempt to obliterate them once again and as the fluttering grew louder, so did their grips on their spears.

There was a thunderous crash and an almighty plume of smoke that ascended high into the sky, and before anyone could react, the stinger from the tail penetrated through the smoke, landing straight into the torso of the mercenary with his broadsword. The only man not to take formation.

As the manticore raised the mercenary high into the sky it then launched his ragdoll body into the sand in a fit of apparent rage.

The manticore took flight again, disturbing the sand toward the huddled-together soldiers.

"Keep your spears high and your shields locked," Ethelston instructed, his voice determined and strong despite the beating of the creature's wings. "Work together, protect the man to your left, and the man to your right, and I promise you that you will return home to your loved ones with stories on how you slew a Manticore!"

As if the men all felt briefly invincible, there was a mighty cheer, which appeared to even startle the Manticore as the men grunted waving their spears towards the flailing creature.

"Two swords!" Aryya's deep and intimidating voice drew Ethelston's attention, "make sure you protect the woman to your right too!"

Ethelston watched as Aryya's perfect smile seemed to light up the situation, and as he returned the gesture, he replied "You have my word, my lady."

The Manticore descended on them once more, but this time was unable to make a landing. Its massive wings stirred up the sand to make visibility almost impossible. Still, with all the flapping, the colossal beast started to tire.

A couple of the soldiers poked their spears up in the vain hope of injuring the beast. While it seemed like a lost cause due to the lack of visibility, the loud roar it gave suggested that someone had indeed found their target.

The Manticore landed just outside the circle sporting a partially broken wing. The horrific roar as it angrily leant forward towards the soldiers caused the men to shudder, but as each of them knew that Ethelston was behind them, and they stood side by side protecting one another, the formation held strong.

The Manticore snarled screwing its nose up in a fit of rage. It attempted to beat its wings again, but it was in visible pain eventually giving up its attempts to enter flight.

The Manticore was confined to land.

"SPEARS FRONT!" Ordered Ethelston.

Like a well-oiled unit, the soldiers lowered their spears, pointing them aggressively toward the Manticore.

The Manticore once again roared in anger and launched its tail towards the shield wall. With ease, the stinger penetrated a shield and tore it out of the soldier's arm. The soldier froze, petrified by the insecurity that he had been left in, but as Ethelston grabbed a hold of him and pulled him back, the shield wall instantly melded back into a coherent unit.

Avoiding the opportunity for the Manticore to strike again, the soldiers pushed their spears in its direction, causing the immense raging beast to pounce backwards and try and prowl around its prey.

For the first time since the engagement started, the two forces were on equal footing. Ethelston knew he had to press the advantage before the Manticore grew impatient and unpredictable.

Looking toward Aryya, he asked. "How good are you with that bow?"

The angry frown from the Amazonian woman caused Ethelston to recoil slightly. Erring on the side of caution, he raised his hand slightly apologetically.

"I could shoot your cock off from two hundred yards, Two Swords," Aryya replied, her voice almost purring as she commented.

Ethelston chuckled. "Well, it is a rather large target. Take out its eyes!"

As the Manticore paced around the unit growling viciously and swiping at the spears with its paws, Aryya raised her recurve bow and knocked back an arrow. She let her hand casually brush against the back of her cheek, before releasing.

The whoosh from the arrow seemed to leave both Aryya and Ethelston in a state of anxiousness before there was a horrific wail from the injured Manticore

As if unaware of the team of spears pointing directly toward it, the Manticore did all it could to release the arrow from its eye. With the Manticore's focus solely on removing its discomfort, Ethelston knew the time to press forward was now.

With a quick glance toward Mutt, the young squire immediately passed him a spear, as if they were telepathically communicating.

Ethelston took no time to react, he instinctively launched the spear at the beast's torso, and as it hit its intended target, the beast's roar became even more pronounced than before.

With another spear almost immediately appearing in his hand, thanks to the ever-vigilant Mutt, Ethelston compounded more misery onto the flailing beast, but despite spears protruding from its torso, it remained alert, angry and aggravated.

The soldiers attempted to push forward and take on the Manticore directly, but its swinging tail, flapping wings and dangerous paws kept them all pushed back.

Ethelston's frustration appeared to be reaching breaking point. The Manticore was exceptionally dangerous, even though it was injured, and as it was being pushed further and further back, its aggression was growing exponentially.

It was only a matter of time before the untamed beast would realise that it could overpower them all easily.

Reaching behind his back, Ethelston slid his swords from their sheaths, spinning them effortlessly in his hand. With one quick glance to Aryya, he smiled slyly before commenting "If anything were to happen to me, protect Mutt, retreat if you have to."

Aryya nodded, grabbing hold of Mutt before he could lunge forward to stop his new hero.

"Ethelston," Mutt called, encouraging the mercenary to stop in his tracks. "I know you've got this."

With a sparkling glint in his eye, Ethelston nodded before encouraging the shield wall to part allowing him to face the Manticore alone.

Staring at its prey, the mighty Manticore roared ferociously showing its impressive array of exceptionally sharp teeth. It snarled angrily at Ethelston as the intrepid man took his steps forward, seemingly unaware of the immense danger that he was putting himself in.

Leaning forward, Ethelston prepared his stance sliding his feet onto the hardened sand. His swords glistened in the sunlight, the metal sharp and clean, desperately awaiting the opportunity to make themselves dirty.

With a smile, Ethelston looked at the beast orange tinged furious eye before saying "Come on beastie, let us dance."

Sprinting forward, Ethelston's steps were like an ice skater sliding effortlessly across the sand, but his movement was sporadic, never running directly at the Manticore.

The beast watched closely as its prey moved quickly closer. It raised its tail high preparing for the strike. Following Ethelston's every move, the beast was anticipating where he was going to tread next.

With supernatural speed, the tail flew toward its target, but it narrowly missed as Ethelston deftly sidestepped the harbinger of death. Almost instantly, the tail raised itself high again, striking once more with venom. This time, Ethelston swung his arm, using the sword as an extension to it to swat the stinger away, but as the stinger raised itself and struck again, this time Ethelston rolled across the sand, unaware of how close the stinger had almost penetrated his armour.

Reaching beside the Manticore who appeared as confused at Ethelston's speed as the soldiers that watched on in awe, Ethelston took no time to slide his blade deep into the creature's gut. With the second blade following the first, the Manticore let out an ungodly roar.

Quickly twisting and releasing his swords, Ethelston took a step back as the giant creature staggered around. Moving back quickly before the stinger could inadvertently strike him, Ethelston watched as the creature gradually thumped to the floor, a cloud of dust pluming in the air.

With its tail gradually calming down in its erratic behaviour, Ethelston took the opportunity to end the creature's life, eager to put it out of its unseemly misery.

Silence basked in the desert as the Manticore breathed its last. From pure chaos, pandemonium and brutality came peace, silence and tranquillity.

Disbelief flowed through the caravan. Moments ago, it appeared as if they would all meet their deaths, but as Ethelston stood heroically beside the corpse of the Manticore, disbelief quickly changed to astonishment, which quickly changed to celebration.

"Ethelston," Mutt called. "Ethelston." He called again. "Ethelston." A couple of the soldiers joined in. "ETHELSTON!" They all shouted and repeated, chanting his name as if he was their saviour and protector.

Wiping dripping sweat from his brow, he looked around at the fallen and then towards the living. So many lay dead or dying, it had felt like such a waste of life, but at the same time, while he looked towards his new friend Mutt, and the Amazonian that stood beside him who had inadvertently become his new compatriot, he saw each one of them appear to stand taller and with more purpose, cheering his name with every breath.

Ethelston had not just slayed the Manticore, he had become their leader, their guide and their inspiration.