“Hey, loner. You alive?” A voice echoed, muffled through the grogginess of Dotun’s half awake mind.


    He grumbled, wiping his face with his hand before rubbing his eyes. Slowly, his vision became less blurry, recognizing Halcyon standing over him. He extended a hand just above Dotun’s chest, cracking a half smile.


    “How long was I out?” Dotun asked, sitting up in the bed, stretching his back out with a series of small cracks and pops..


    “Oh, you know, roosters have been screaming for a while.” Halcyon laughed, cocking his head towards the window, “Didn’t see you at the market. Thought you’d finally gone and slept through the end of the world.”


    He stepped away from the bed, taking a deep breath and pulling out a pouch of coin.


    “Daniela gathered up all your traps, sold the goods. Here’s your cut.” He tossed the pouch onto the wooden stand beside the bed.


    “And Zarrail?”


    “Probably singing his heart out in one of the taverns for a pittance.”


    Dotun sighed, but chuckled, leaving Halcyon puzzled. In spite of how mundane it all seemed, it was… good.


    “How has duty been?” He asked, standing up and quickly throwing on a decent pair of clothes.


    “Quiet, which is nice. Less stressful.” His friend replied calmly.


    He stepped back as Dotun approached the makeshift rack behind him, grabbing his bow and quiver from the wall.


    “Did Daniela find anything new out there?”


    Halcyon shook his head, looking out the door before speaking.


    “I saw the same thing you did, Dotun, but I’m telling you… it’s just Unashamed. Velesia doesn’t come near the Free Coast. There’s treaties, pacts, trade agreements, on and on.” Halcyon took a breath, chuckling at Dotun’s skeptic attitude. “Besides, even if they came, there wouldn’t be war. War is over, a thing of our past.”


    “I wish you were right. But we’ve seen what war brings, Halcyon. The Lion’s no different from the warlords across the sea.” Dotun huffed, shutting his eyes for a moment as stress gripped his mind, “You’ve heard the stories. How he burned the Nurlands’ fleets. Or how he massacred the East Men… Unashamed don’t march under banners of black and gold.”


    “No, they march with brands. Slaves, proud of their chains.” His friend sighed, shaking his head and clearing his throat, “Things are good, brother. Stories are just that. Stories.”


    He clapped the ranger on the shoulder with a smile. Dotun shook his head, the visions of a charred homestead seared in his mind, flashing with the black and gold banners of Velesia, of the Lion. He was about to respond when he was cut off by a knock at the door, followed by a sharp whistle.


    “Daniela, come in.” He said, waving at her as she opened the door.


    “Are you finally awake?” She asked rhetorically, “I found something interesting in the north pines, figured you two would want to see it.”


    Dotun and Halcyon looked to one another curiously before following Daniela out of the hut. The sun shined brightly on Dotun’s face as he stepped outside, covering his face in warmth. As he looked to the east, the large walls of Brink towered above the village outskirts, offering safety and assurance to those who bustled about outside.


    Snapping his attention back to his friends, they began to make their way north, cutting along dirt paths and grassy patches to reach the verdant forests. The midday sun cast a fairy-tale glow, its rays breaking through the pine canopy in golden streams.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    “It’s just a little further, off the path slightly.” Daniela said, pointing off the path towards a thick grove of bushes and other foliage.


    As they pulled aside the branches and shrubs for one another, Dotun quickly stopped and hushed his footsteps, peering just through the other side at a deer. It was grazing just a couple paces away, looking the opposite direction.


    Slowly and quietly, Dotun unbuttoned the sheath of his bow, taking an arrow from his quiver and notching it into the string. Taking a deep breath and aiming the arrow, he waited for the deer to turn its body, the strain of holding back bowstring testing his already lean frame.


    Dotun’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, his breathing steady but straining. The bowstring creaked under tension. A sudden rustle - a bird took flight - and the deer bolted. The arrow shot past its flank, disappearing into the brush as the sound of its hooves retreating began to fade. Silence hung in the air, broken only by Halcyon’s low laughter.


    “Almost had it…”


    “Cheer up, brother, you’ll get better again. Your mind isn’t what it used to be.” Halcyon comforted him, pressing through the bushes into the grove.


    Dotun and the young rogue stepped into the clearing, looking around at the secluded spot. He stared down at the hoof prints left by the deer, a small sense of shame hanging over him, but passing quickly as he pushed it from his mind.


    “Just gotta stay positive.” He whispered to himself.


    He looked up at the small opening in the roof of the forest. An occasional bird would fly by, gliding from one tree to another with grace. For a brief moment, everything felt oddly perfect, until he noticed how still the rest of the clearing felt.


    “What was it you wanted to show us, Daniela?” He asked, looking at the rogue curiously.


    “Just over here.”


    She pointed towards one end of the grounds, where a large section of foliage had been trampled through. The trio approached, looking through the other side and down at the crushed shrubs. Dotun squatted down, his eyes narrowing at the dirt. Among the clear hoofprints, something else caught his attention - a jagged groove that didn’t belong.


    “Halcyon, do the guards patrol this area? Or even know of it?”


    “No, we only wander the villages and Brink itself. This place is far off enough… I don’t see how anyone would come through and trample it.”


    “What if…”


    He reached forward, brushing away the soil. A faint glint of metal caught the light, cold and unyielding under his fingers. His chest tightened as unearthed more, the outline of a chest plate emerging from the earth, painted in the blue and green of Brink’s guardsmen.


    “Oh no… no, no, no…”


    Digging deeper, Dotun’s fingers brushed against fabric - stuff and damp with rot. He froze. A sickly, metallic stench rose from the earth, clawing at his throat. Slowly, he uncovered the torn remains of an arming coat, its cream color muted by dark, crusted red. Dotun’s chest tightened further.


    “By the gods, Halcyon…” His voice wavered, hardly a whisper.


    He clawed away more dirt as his friend rushed over, recoiling from the smell as he knelt beside Dotun. More of the chest plate emerged, dented and smeared with blood. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter. The stench was overpowering now, choking. This, this wasn’t just death - it was something far worse.


    Halcyon’s breathing quickened, “Brink. Gods, what if…”


    Dotun looked around, keeping his bow at hand as he stood and searched through the bushes. A thought began tugging at the back of his mind, trying to work its way forward.


    Meanwhile, Daniela inspected the trampled hedges and shrubs, her eyes glancing over torn sticks and crumpled leaves. For a moment, nothing - then a woven shadow caught her eye, fluttering slightly in the breeze.


    “Dotun, over here.” She called, her voice trembling just enough to draw his attention.


    She turned to face them, holding up a torn scrap of canvas, the edges crusted with blood. Dotun took it from her, his heart sinking as the sigil came into view: a gold lion, bold and defiant, staring back at him.


    “No. No, it can’t be. Treaties, there were treaties…” Halcyon’s voice faltered as he staggered backwards, his earlier composure unraveled, leaving only dread, “Velesia is here. Gods help us.”


    Dotun turned, his gaze falling to a grisly sight - half-buried in the soil lay the mangled remains of a guard. His throat was slit, his forehead marred by a savage brand: the mark of the Lion.


    Dotun’s stomach wretched and turned, his thoughts racing. The vision of a charred homestead flashed before his eyes - black and gold banners rising above the ashes. Treaties, pacts - they meant nothing now. Velesia was coming.