[url=https://www.bungie.net/en/Forum/Post/246624086/0/0]Table of Contents[/url] [i]Taking Fairmont had been hell. When one thought of Fairmont, the first thing that came to mind was not the town itself, but the fortress. One giant hill loomed over the surrounding woodland with a single structure nestled on its crest, a remnant of the Golden Age or before. The building dominated the hilltop, built with strong walls that had withstood the test of time. This fortress had been dubbed Fairmont by those who found shelter in its cold walls during these Dark Ages, and a village had eventually been built around the slope and base of the hill. The town, resting in the protective shadow of Fairmont, had adopted the ancient fortress’ name. Fighting through the town of Fairmont was an uphill battle, both literally and metaphorically. Natalia and her army weren’t trained, nor did they have good weapons. They only had numbers, belief, anger, and desperation. The fight up to the fortress had been disorganized, but doable. A few had died on the way there, but Hayden had thought victory was close. Then they opened the grand doors to the castle, and the slaughter began. Hardly a dozen defenders, hiding behind corners and falling back deeper into their den, springing up like snakes and mowing down five men at a time before disappearing again. Every step taken had been payed in blood. Hayden knew it was a miracle that he had survived, and that they had won. He thanked the Traveler for their luck and for Natalia being unharmed. Now they crept though the silent halls, passing over more bodies before finally coming into the massive, domed chamber that served as the principal room of the fortress. Still more corpses filled the room, and Hayden was starting to feel sick by the time they reached the center. One man had been waiting at the grand doors of the entryway, and had moved to meet them at the center, letting his gun dangle at his side and stroking his thick black beard, “Where’s e’eryone else?” “Don’t know,” Natalia replied, “Let’s wait a little.” So they stood and waited, not saying a word. There was nothing to talk about. They were all tired and feeling the effects of the battle’s mental strain. Fargo shuffled over to the nearest carcass and started wiping the bottom of his boot on the dead man’s clothes, trying to clean off the blood. The blonde woman followed suit, but Hayden knew it was pointless. They’d just walk through more blood later, especially once the time came to dispose of the bodies. When Fargo and the woman were finished, they came back to the center of the room. Now the six of them formed a loose circle, facing each other but avoiding eye contact and keeping their lips sealed tight. No one dared speak, lest they disturb the resting dead around them. Two more people entered the room from a different hallway. Hayden recognized the blonde man who had joined them as they fought through the town of Fairmont after his father was killed. The other was a woman with a long braid in her hair. Both of them joined the circle, not saying anything to break the silence. Hayden was suspicious of the blonde man, and expected him to turn on them at any moment. But he expected the same of everyone else in the room, too, except Natalia. He’d seen too many Warlords in his life, and harbored his suspicions that these people all wanted to rule over their newly-acquired territory with absolute power. They waited for a long time with no other arrivals. An uneasiness settled over Hayden’s mind as he stole glances at the gaping maws of the hallways. The fortress was terribly quiet. No gunfire, no voices, no footsteps. No sign that anyone else was alive. He did a quick headcount, reminding himself that there were eight of them standing in the circle. Surely there were more, hiding in the maze of halls. There had to be more survivors. The Warlords couldn’t have killed so many. Hayden scanned the faces of the others. They were all looking to the halls as well, and he could sense their anxiety. The same fears he felt. Natalia spoke, her voice a gentle whisper that pierced the silence and reached every corner of the chamber. She said what they had all been dreading, “I think that’s all of us.” “Light…” the black-bearded man swore under his breath. “Just us?” The blonde man questioned. Eight of them, standing in a circle and surrounded by bodies. Only eight had survived the battle. Hayden swallowed hard, looking at each of their faces. They all wore the same look, filled with relief and horror, the realization that they had nearly all failed and died like their comrades who covered the floor around them. Hayden was sure he wore the same expression. Had this been worth all the death? “Traveler…” Hayden moaned, putting his hand over his face to shield himself from the sight of the others. All these strangers around him, dead because they wanted to help. Dead because they wanted freedom. Dead because of Natalia. They didn’t know her, not like Hayden did, but they had given their lives for her anyway. Hayden wondered what would have happened if he‘d gotten the chance to know them. Perhaps he would have found friends among them. But now they were only eight, and Hayden couldn’t even bring himself to trust the last of those who had volunteered to die for this. He hardly cared about them. He hardly cared about the things all these people had died for. All that mattered to him was Natalia. Was that wrong? “What now?” The blonde man asked, his voice unsteady. “Names,” Natalia answered softly, “What are your names?” Her arm rose slowly, and she pointed to Fargo first, who was at her left side. “Fargo Louse,” he proclaimed proudly, eager to abandon the previous subject. Natalia’s finger moved to the next in line, the blonde woman, who seemed to cave into herself as she spoke, “Zoya Bakunin.” Next was the blonde man, who made a point of not saying his last name, “Alexander.” At this point they all understood that they were going in a clockwise order, but Natalia’s finger continued its path, passing over each of them as they spoke. “Hannah,” the woman with the braid mumbled, tugging on the braid out of habit. “Caden,” the man with the black beard stated. “Oliver Petrov,” Oliver said, for once seeming to be in a bad mood. Then Natalia’s gaze and finger came to Hayden, and he looked into her eyes as he recited his own name, “Hayden Yegorov.” Natalia flashed a weak smile at Hayden, then turned back to the others and rested her hand on her chest, “Natalia Durow. Thank you. Fargo, Zoya, Alexander, Hannah, Caden, Oliver…” She paused for a brief moment, glancing to Hayden again for emphasis before continuing, “Hayden. Thank you for helping me. We won. Now we can protect our homes and the people in them. This sector is ours now.” “It’s yours,” Fargo corrected, “I don’t want it. Would just put a big target on my head anyway. You led us here.” “Wait, no no-“ Natalia began, but Oliver cut her off. “I’m no leader,” he said, “You’re already the queen o’ Flats an’ e’erywhere else. I’ll fight for you.” “You conquered all these towns,” Caden added, “You’re the Warlord, not us.” Hannah shrugged, “I jus’ followed you.” “I’ll do what you want,” Alexander offered. Zoya stared at her feet and said nothing. Natalia looked to Hayden for help, but he shook his head, “You’re the only person I want to follow.” Natalia’s mouth opened and closed and she ran her hand through her hair. She pursed her lips as she thought, then let out a heavy sigh, “Okay. I’ll be the queen. But you’ll all still help me?” The others nodded and grunted affirmation. Oliver stepped forward, spreading his arms towards Natalia as if he were acting in a play. He raised his voice, practically shouting his proclamation like he really was on stage, “It’s decided then. We serve Natalia, the Conquering Queen!” Hannah put her hand to her forehead and groaned, “Traveler, you’re an idiot.”[/i]