The hardest war is the one a man fights alone. One hundred years ago, the Eternals, thirteen men and women of immense power, closer, many believed, to gods than mortals, stood against the greatest threat the world had ever faced. And they lost. They died. All save for one, known as the Youngest, who managed to flee with the enemy leader’s weapon, a cursed blade of incredible power. He has traveled for a hundred years since, alone save for his companion, Veikr, the only remaining horse of a legendary breed. The last just as he is the last. Hunted by creatures out of nightmare, he seeks only to survive, to keep the magical blade from the enemy’s grasp. Not to save the world, for the time for saving it is past. Instead, he seeks only to delay its ending. It is a battle he fights alone, for after they defeated the Eternals, the enemy used their magic to pose as their conquered opponents, taking over rule of the world in their stead. For the last hundred years, the people have believed that the legendary Eternals triumphed, that they are safe. Only the wanderer knows the truth, that the world crouches with its head resting on the executioner’s block, waiting for the axe to fall. And the only thing keeping that axe at bay is him. He had a name once, but he has it no longer. He is simply the Last. The Youngest. He is the Wandering Sword.

The truest stories are written in blood. The wanderer knows this, for over the last century he has lived those stories, has seen them scrawled in his blood or the blood of others. Others like those dead Perishables scattered about the noble’s courtyard, like those servants of the enemy, mortal and not, lying beside them. And yet…he knows it is only the beginning. They are coming. Servants of the enemy, creatures forged and fashioned for one purpose and one purpose only—to kill anything in their path. And now their path leads them directly to the wanderer, to the Perishables, and to the family he has sworn to protect. The story is not yet finished. There is more tale yet to be told, and more blood needed for the telling of it. The cursed blade has been unsheathed, the lone wanderer wanders alone no longer. A hundred years of hiding, of running, but now it’s over. Now, the real story begins. And the blood will flow. Requiem for a Soldier is book two of the bestselling epic fantasy homage to westerns, The Last Eternal, by Jacob Peppers. It is the tale of one man, known simply as the wanderer, as he sets out to keep a cursed, magical blade from the hands of the enemy. It is an action-packed, character-driven story of one man's quest to save the world, a quest which will pit him against all manner of warriors, monsters, and magic.

The flames danced like madness in the wanderer’s eyes. He’d faced the monster posing as Soldier in combat, and he had won. But at what cost? Forty-seven villagers of Alhs dead. So many that they could not bury them all and so they had looked to the old ways. They had looked to the flames. Forty-seven. They had been people yesterday. Today, they were nothing but memory. Nothing but ash drifting away on the wind, disappearing into the night. Mourners surrounded the pyre. In the shifting glow of the blaze their faces looked alien, strange. As they looked at him, each in their time, he felt their judgment, their hatred. And they were right to judge, to hate, for their pain, their travails had only just begun. Bereft of the barrier that had protected them from the Untamed Lands, the villagers of Alhs would be forced to venture into the wilderness, to brave the many dangers awaiting them there. But not all dangers lay ahead. The creature who had taken Soldier’s place was dead, but there were others of its kind, and they knew where the wanderer was now. They knew... And they were coming. With the ashes of the dead still settling upon the ground, the wanderer does the only thing he can do. He leads the villagers further into the wilderness, to a place where monsters roam and magical creatures out of nightmare lurk in the shadows. He leads them into the Untamed Lands. Into the Untamed Lands is book three in Jacob Peppers' bestselling epic fantasy series, The Last Eternal. It is the story of a lone warrior who faces magical beasts, mythic creatures, and monsters out of nightmare to save those he loves. Into the Untamed Lands is an action-filled, character-focused tale set in a grimdark fantasy world.

Death was coming. That was nothing new, for death had been coming for the wanderer for a long time now. But this time, it did not just come for him. It came for Dekker and his family, for Clint and the Perishables, and the villagers of Alhs. Death was coming. And it was he who had called it. The enemy who had taken Ranger’s place hunted them, and at his back marched an army of Revenants, creatures who felt no pain, who knew no fear, and so the wanderer and his companions head deeper into the Untamed Lands in search of safe haven. But whatever else they might be, the Untamed Lands are not safe. For in the Untamed Lands, nightmares are given flesh, terrors stalk the darkness, and ravenous beasts hunt beneath the sun. Here, in the Untamed Lands, monsters roam. But the wanderer has lived more than a century and one of the things he learned was that the worst monsters, the worst evils a man faced were those he brought with him. Those evils were coming—they had been coming for a long time now. For the last century he had survived by running, by staying one step ahead. But the time for running was coming to an end. After all, a man could not flee from his demons forever. Sooner or later, he must stand and face them. And so, in the wilds of the Untamed Lands, the eternal wanderer will wander no longer. He will stand and face his demons. He will fight.

Death has a voice. The wanderer knew that, for he had heard that voice often enough. And as he walked through the village of Alhs, past the corpses of those who had chosen to stay, he heard it again. He heard it in the rasp of the wind along the eaves of the abandoned homes he passed, heard it in the slow, methodical banging of window shutters with no one to secure them. Death has eyes. Eyes that looked out from the corpses of those the wanderer had not been able to talk into coming with him and the others, that watched him walk down the empty street, searching in vain for any he might help, any he might save. And with each body passed, each tragedy witnessed, the wanderer made himself a promise. There would be a reckoning. He would see to it. For while death has a voice and eyes, that is not all it has. Death has a name. And so the wanderer sets out to Celes in order to find the ones to whom that name belongs, to find the enemy and, when he does, to find his vengeance.

Some nights are darker than others. Some shadows are not shadows at all but Death, watching, waiting. Only sometimes, Death is not content to watch. Sometimes, he comes with purpose. And tonight, on this darkest of all nights, Death came not for the wanderer, as it had so many times, but for his friends. To save them, the wanderer will have to stand in the darkness and face down the shadows lurking there. Shadows trained by none other than Assassin, the greatest killer ever to walk the face of the world. Wounded, the wanderer plays a dangerous game of cat and mouse through the streets of Celes, one that isn’t over until his corpse, or those of his pursuers, falls lifeless to the ground. But those are just the beginnings of his troubles, for even should he survive the night, the darkness will return. Death will return—he always does. Only this time, Death is not a he at all…it’s a she. And not just any she. Assassin has come to Celes…and no one is safe.

The wages of a soldier are pain and regret his reward. Soldier himself had told the wanderer that. Old words from another life but true words nonetheless. The wanderer knew this, for he still carried the scars such pain had brought, and a life spent on the run left a man little else but his regrets. Yet of all the challenges the wanderer has faced, of all the dangers in a life full of little else, the worst lies before him. For he faces not a warrior or even some rampaging beast or monster. He faces Assassin. The deadliest killer ever to walk the face of the world. She has come for him, for his friends. Pain and regret may be a soldier’s rewards, but the creature who comes for him and his friends is no soldier. She is a lurker in the shadows, an assassin, and so she will have an assassin’s wage. _She seeks death… The wanderer means to help her find it._

Death comes to Celes. It marches with an army of thousands, an army that comes not to conquer but to destroy. Not to save but to kill. Monsters roam the shadowy alleyways of the city searching for those they might devour, and corrupt guardsmen wield their blades against those they are meant to protect. The wanderer has found new allies, ruthless criminals, a famous swordmaster, and a wizard of great power, yet even they may not be enough to face what comes. Assassin is dead but another, perhaps even greater threat has taken her place. An enemy who kills not with a sharpened blade but with a smile, with a whisper. Against such weapons, even the loyalty of those closest to the wanderer will be tested. Against such weapons, even the great may fall. Death comes to Celes… The only question…is whose?

When a man’s hope is stripped from him, vengeance is all he has left. They are gone. Dekker and Elizabeth, Clint and Sarah and all the rest. Captured or worse. It took the wanderer a hundred years to find them, his friends. His family. And now they are gone. Taken. Taken by traitors who have forsaken their duty and chosen greed and power instead. They have betrayed their duty, their people and so have earned a traitor’s reward. And whatever else happens, the wanderer means to deliver it. He goes to save his friends, his hope. But if he cannot have them, if he cannot have it… Then he will have his revenge instead. In fire and smoke, in blood and the screams of the guilty… He will bring vengeance. He will bring a reckoning.