This was really getting out of hand. Everyone was full of it. [b]"You know what everyone? Forget it. It degrades all of us to engage such childish bickering."[/b] Alicia simply wanted to back off from this carnival of fools. It didn't matter what she said, didn't matter what she did, it wouldn't make a difference. Ordering another drink, she simply turned her back to everyone and pulled out her map. Every town had it's own safehouse, and she would rather rest there. After all, only the Royal Guard were able to open these hidden rooms. If she's lucky, she'll find something on the weapon rack. 

The orcs she knew were the kind that could easily rip a man in half with their bare hands, their charge was an equivalent of a cavalry charge. The peasant was full of it. But it did matter. It never did. Soon after the fall, Alicia still tried to train the Stormbringers to be an elite fighting force the King asked for. The elite fighting force she envisioned. But training commoners and militia proved extremely hard. Following orders, chain of command, and discipline in general were near impossible to instill, and only few took to her training. And she lost some of her trainees in their first encounter with orcs. Taller and bigger than a man, many times stronger, with thick green skin that was nearly impervious to low quality blades. They never even hoped of holding out against their charge, they had pikes for that. Pikes that they dropped as soon as the orcs moved past them, though a few orcs who underestimated the pike defense died rather painfully. One died when an orc grabbed his sword, ignoring the shallow cuts and pulling him in, swiftly ripping out his arm in a swift motion. Then he started bludgeoning another Stormbringer who broke formation to help with the said hand. 

Alicia too has lost her sword this way. Although she just let it go, and since her sword was of far higher quality, it nearly severed the orcs fingers. Her force was equal in numbers against the orcs, and they lost a third to the orcs. Another third was grievously wounded. But that was nine years ago. Last she heard, the ones that were receptive to her training were now in high positions among the Stormbringers. As for her sword, she had no money to buy a new one of similar quality, nor were any blacksmiths left that could produce such a weapon. A mace was a cheap and replaceable alternative. Recovery of her original sword was impossible since orc reinforcements were on their way, and they had to leave the area fast.

Alicia never really drank. For most of her life, it was above her, a vice that clouds the mind. But now, it was a disgusting fix for the sorrow and rage inside her. Imbeciles and idiots boasting about their meaningless feats, pretending to be something they are not. Maybe not pretending, because they honestly believe that they are Stormbringers. They honestly believed they are making a difference. And why should they care? Neither of them lost as much as Alicia. Neither of them had a personal stake in Veiron or in the Kingdom itself. For common folk, rulers and noble families come and go. All their life, all their menial struggles and toiling in their trade does not change. The wilderness was dangerous to them before, so the Fall made little difference. For all they had and did, they were content. A town, a small region - it was their entire world. The Last Royal Guard had no such luxury. Alicia was almost envious of their simple mind. To not care about your bloodline, to not care about your social standing, being very careful of not compromising it. Of not caring about the world outside. How lucky must be a beast, for his only care in the world is to eat and procreate, and simply avoid death. No worries, no feelings of remorse or guilt. Just the simplicity of survival.

Another mug. Was that the 4th or the 5th? She couldn't tell anymore. Some part of her mind felt disgust in herself, as she degraded herself to a common alcoholic. The map she had in front of her eyes, barely paid attention to. It was another round of self-loathing and regret. Alicia was too weak. At one point, she was near her peak, among other Royal Guards. They were all at the limit of human bodily strength. Man is simply unable to push past that. Of course, such restrictions don't apply to orcs, or demons. It was just so unfair. Demons - a force of chaos, pain and destruction, and no force being an opposite of them. No divine help, no celestial creatures to help the mortals in their time of need. Only weak man, to be just a meat puppet to the demons now inhabiting this world. If she could gain power to fight them, even if it costed her soul, she would agree in an instant.

Alicia finally found the willpower to focus on the map, after her 5th mug. At this point, her alcohol tolerance allowed her to be quite sober, thought a bit tipsy. A state where her mind no longer dwells on her misery. The map said something about a graveyard, thought Alicia was not in a mood to aimlessly wonder. Taking out another gold coin from her pouch, she approached the peasant girl that told her to shut up first. [b]"Here's the deal: You lead me to the town graveyard and I pay you. What do you say?"[/b]