《The Missing Bloodline》


 Prologue

    Our story starts with a concept that many people would find interesting in their way:


    Conflict.


    Back then, Primera was a vast open country, filled with barbarians and territories led by families of which the people would now call the noble houses. Open conflict would be present everywhere due to barbarians, magical beings, and the like, for the land was beautiful but untamed. This would all change, however, after the royal house of Llyn managed to unite the houses into one kingdom. Other houses were convinced via diplomacy, others through trade while a few were forced into conflict as they were not so easily persuaded.


    Eventually, they all made peace and agreed that the kingdom be led by House Llyn and that Unrel "Wolfsbane", the first of his name, be hailed as king.


    The houses worked together to bring prosperity into the kingdom and make open trade and diplomacy with the Elves, Dwarves, and Mermen--all of which resulted in surprising success. Few of them not only found opportunities working alongside the other races but also were able to live alongside them and share each other''s culture.


    The king was pleased with this development, but eventually fighting and murder among Primera''s inhabitants found itself knocking on the kingdom''s doorsteps.


    Because of this, he called for a meeting with the leaders of the other races, discussing how their future would be given the circumstances and so, a great gathering happened. Tensions were undoubtedly high and the night was long, but by dawn, the parties came to terms with one another, and thus, the Codex was created.


    This sacred book would become the standard that all would follow and one, united idea was agreed upon by all houses of all races: break the rules set by the Codex and face the repercussions.


    The other races present were also given a chance to speak during the meetings. Even though their races were bound to almost half of the rules found in the Codex, their respective kingdoms were to remain independent, and they were not responsible nor subject to conflicts created by Men. They had the freedom to include themselves--but were warned that they too would have to accept responsibility.


    This continued for millennia, reaching the third age of Men. The kingdom was still prosperous as ever, and as other kingdoms rose in distant lands, Primera would adapt and remain the powerhouse of the known world.


    However, that would all change when King Alaric of House Llyn ascended to the throne after his father, King Septimus, who was regarded as one the greatest rulers of the land, similar to their first king, died due to unknown reasons. The loss of his father was felt by the entirety of the realm. Everyone paid their respects to the loss of a great ruler--even those from foreign lands crossed deep oceans to visit Primera for the first time, just so they could see who this individual was, and view the realm that was a part of his great legacy.


    When Alaric sat down on the throne, everything slowly descended into hell. Despite his unwavering love for his father and the effort that he exerted, it seemed that Alaric was cursed by the Divines to lead his great father''s kingdom to ruin. Unexplained accidents would happen: mass murders, rape--all manner of chaos, as if the circles of Hell itself descended on the mortal plane and wreaked havoc.


    People were saying that the House was cursed by the Divines themselves, and soon, controversy regarding the former king''s death began to manifest within the Capital walls itself, instigating mistrust and deceit in Alaric''s council. This would continue for what the people felt like an eternity until both sides were utterly spent. The king was in deep waters from the chaos, anxiety, and pressure being put on him meanwhile the townsfolk from all across the realm grew tired of the constant abuse from criminals and corrupt officials alike.


    On one fateful day in an attempt to quell a protest, a tall man covered under the shade of black pierced through the crowd amidst the shouting and the shoving. He then proceeded to viciously strike down a member of the elite royal guard with a single swing of his war axe to the neck, immediately striking down the man without warning, which caused a riot that led to the deaths of the other guardsmen who were shocked at what they witnessed.


    They were stripped of their armor and their bodies were left to be hung at the entrance of the town known as Blackroot as a symbol of defiance. The townsfolk took a curious, glance at this individual who retrieved his war axe from the carcass of the dead elite guard. A few of the populace were repulsed at the sight, while others prayed to the five Divines for forgiveness. However, for many, this sight became a symbol that would be etched into their minds.


    ''Dante'', the killer called himself.


    The mysterious man gave an impassioned speech to the townsfolk, and even though people did not know him, nor did they know his land of birth, hearing the man''s speech pulled them towards something. Soon, only two words echoed in their heads.


    Open rebellion.


    Tales spread about what had happened in the town, an event people started calling ''The Blackroot Massacre''. Many common folk willingly joined Dante''s cause after hearing what had happened. Soon enough, word reached the capital, and Alaric, already nearing his breaking point, dispatched messengers to the ancient seats of the other great Houses to request aid in what appeared to be an upcoming war.


    The king''s instinct was right, but luck was not on his side as almost half of the other great Houses sympathized with the common folk and joined Dante''s cause. Faced with a grim situation, Alaric decided to summon all houses still loyal to him and charge headfirst into open conflict toward the different rebel territories to quell further rebellion.


    This proposal caused his captains to panic, starting to believe that their king finally went mad and went against the idea, but bound by honor and out of respect for what his father had done for the realm, they rode with him into battle.


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    After months of combat and seizing lands, it was time for the decisive battle to end it all. The respective leaders of each side were no slouches when it came to combat. Dante was viewed by the enemy as a demon on the battlefield, killing loyalists with ease while wielding an ebony war axe etched with foreign symbols. Soldiers who lived to tell the tale recalled experiencing strange phenomena when near the weapon''s vicinity--blurry vision, sudden fatigue, and the like.


    Such magic was not foreign to nobles and those having access to proper education, as this was regarded by many as a branch of enchantment, yet its true properties were known only to a select few.


    King Alaric, on the other hand, was hailed as the second-best warrior when it came to the knights and nobles. Although more eccentric in contrast to his old self, his experience on the battlefield and instinct for combat were evident during the sieges. He was known to be armed with his signature sword, Justice, and a custom-made shield, which provided him the reputation of being unstoppable. However, since his father''s passing, Alaric disregarded his shield to brandish the knife the former king was seen to be brandishing before being laid to rest under the royal catacombs.


    This prompted Alaric to create a unique fighting stance; a fierce and rabid style with little to no regard for his safety which found rousing success on the battlefield. After months of exchanging blows, the leaders of the two opposite sides of the same coin finally met and battled to death on the most crucial day, which the world would call ''The Battle for Mount Dorba''.


    The fighting was fierce, and both sides suffered heavy losses. Despite being outnumbered three-to-one, the forces of Alaric stood on even ground with Dante''s rebels. The two leaders eventually found themselves face-to-face and the battle halted. Time seemed to stop as the other combatants watched in awe at what they were witnessing.


    The two were evenly matched.


    Those who witnessed the duel described it to be the deadliest dance to have ever existed. Dante swung his enchanted ebony war axe with such grace and strength while being able to weave and dodge through Alaric''s frenzied, unorthodox fighting style with the sword and curved knife.


    Those who have experienced fighting near the rebel leader wondered how Alaric was resistant to his weapon''s magic, similar to how it was even possible for Dante to fight the King who was utilizing an unknown combat style. This would continue for some time until eventually, Alaric''s disregard for his safety would cost him the battle. In one crucial moment, Dante found an opening and swung underneath the shoulder of Alaric''s left arm that held his sword, dislodging it with ease and leaving Alaric bleeding on the battlefield.


    A few words were exchanged between the two.


    Scholars of the current age and witnesses of the battle were not able to figure out nor put together even a portion of what was said, as it seems that the divines respected the two duelists enough to keep other unworthy eyes and ears blind and deaf to have any knowledge of what was spoken. The brief pause eventually came to an end as Alaric slowly rose from one knee, his bruised face riddled in pain, and attempted to stab the dagger at Dante''s heart, only for Dante to sidestep and lodge the axe in the King''s chest, staining his black armor with a crimson red streak. Alaric''s body afterward dropped to the blood-stained ground, signifying the end of the conflict. The loyalists rushed to their king''s aid as the rebel leader kneeled on one knee, whispered a few words, and retrieved the ebony war axe from his opponent''s body.


    As if the Divines themselves were watching, rain immediately came pouring down on the battlefield, the sound of water dripping down on the armor and weapons of battle-hardened townsfolk and soldiers. It came as a surprise to everyone as they looked to the skies, seeing that beforehand there was no sign of rain to begin with. Both sides looked toward finding the kingslayer but found no trace of him except for a blood-stained piece of black cloth.


    A few weeks passed, and eventually, the realm came to peace. The generals from the rebel forces held an open court in an attempt to discuss what to do, now that the kingdom was leaderless. The surviving loyalists were pardoned, as they were also victims of the chaos of the unfortunate events that had happened which led to the war, and were merely following orders out of honor and loyalty for Alaric and respect for King Septimus.


    The heads of each great House were summoned to the Capital City, and the meeting began. Suggestions were brought to the table and a few profanities were let out due to scars that were still fresh, but they concluded that the realm would remain united. Each House would retain its territory of old and the approval of major laws and decisions that would affect the entire realm would be done through voting.


    The heads of the Great Houses of Men worked together in an attempt to restore the kingdom to order. Both old and new laws were either removed or introduced, and actions were approved--some of which were partly unfavorable for the others.


    It then came down as to which Great House would lead the kingdom of Men. This was the only topic that the Houses were not in unison with, as each House only voted for themselves. After all, the ones who were in power, despite the new system, would be granted the most strength and influence as House Llyn had stored powerful and even valuable resources throughout three millennia in the Capital City, not to mention having access to the Royal Guard--experienced, and talented soldiers who were sworn to protect and serve the ruling House, the very same soldiers who stood strong despite being outnumbered.


    This would continue for hours until eventually, the heads decided that it would be best and leave the golden throne empty as of the moment, and that control of the Capital City would be given to the captain of the Royal Guard--Sir Byronard, the Honorable One. The captain accepted his new role humbly and without hesitation, vowed to fulfill his duties justly. Discussions were finished and the heads decided to return each year on the same summer day, bringing along with them new proposals, ideas, and of course: their vote on who would sit on the golden throne, as Primera was regarded as the beacon of the known world. They had a reputation to keep and being leaderless only showed nothing but weakness.


    Now, twenty-three summers and a handful of days have passed since that fateful day, and we find ourselves on the outskirts of the ancient seat of House Polifio. The dawn has just risen on the horizon, and underneath a simple place that he calls home--a certain fellow lies asleep, unaware of the days that lie ahead of him.

 Ch. 1 -- First Light

    The bright morning light shone through the cracks of the walls of the damp, abandoned stone house. Godric, who was still weary from not getting enough sleep, had no choice but to rise and start his day. The young man groggily dusted himself, stretched, and set out to fetch his trusted sickle from the lead farmer''s tool shed. It was harvesting season, and it was a bountiful one compared to previous autumn moons.


    This was enough reason for Lord Mikhael of House Polifio to throw the biggest celebration his subjects had ever seen on the night before. The townsfolk were overjoyed of course. For Godric however, this meant more work to be made, as most of the workforce responsible for the harvest were still drunk off their asses and sleeping soundly in places only they would know.


    ''We can always do it by midday, you know. Lord Mikhael''s a kind fellow anyways!'' Godric remembered a friend merrily shouting this to him during the festivities as he danced the night away and gulped down his ale like he was dying of thirst.


    "Damn that fool," Godric muttered to himself as he headed off to the fields. "Lord Mikhael might be kind, but the guards are surely not. It''ll not be my fault if he gets carried off and whipped."


    The lad''s words were true: Their liege lord was a kind and generous individual, but he was easily manipulated by a few if not all of the members of his small council. It did not take a genius to see how he was being exploited and played like a puppet, so much so that even a simple farmer boy like him could notice it just by observing how he behaved during the festivities.


    He wondered if he was also a puppet--that the Divines themselves were pulling the strings, with him taking part in a performance that would ultimately lead him to an unknown fate. Godric was so lost in thought regarding this mundane possibility that he failed to look at where he was going and suddenly bumped into something hard.


    He fell back down to the ground to the sound of heavy metal crashing at the same time. Godric knew that metals were only found worn or used by the soldiers or the local blacksmith.


    He panicked, and all feelings of weariness disappeared as a sudden rush of adrenaline coursed through his body. Godric had no time to check which was which--he quickly got up to his feet and sprinted in the other direction in the fastest manner he could muster.


    "Godric!" a strong, yet gentle voice cried out. "Calm down! It''s just me." Godric stopped to look behind him, sweat building up on his forehead. The morning light cast a shadow on the figure so he squinted until his eyes adjusted to where he could see who it was.


    "Divines take me, it''s just you Wyatt," Godric let out a sigh of relief and calmed himself down as Wyatt let out a hearty laugh. "I thought I was a goner then and there. Sorry if I seemed a bit lost." He apologized, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.


    "Don''t mention it," Wyatt replied, offering his hand for Godric to grasp as he helped him up to his feet. "What''s gotten you all muddled up in the head and a bit off this early?" he continued. "It''s supposed to be the biggest harvest in forty autumn seasons they said!" Wyatt exclaimed as he picked up the scattered weaponry and armor on the ground and placed them back on the cart.


    "Aren''t you at least a bit excited about that? We''ll be having feasts upon feasts for this, my friend!" Wyatt then let out another laugh, which made Godric chuckle since there was truth to what the blacksmith''s son said.


    "I''d agree with you on that," Godric smirked as he helped Wyatt clean up the mess he started in the first place. "This place might also have never slept after all the madness last night." Godric eased up a bit after remembering moments that stood out the night before and let out a laugh.


    He couldn''t help himself. "Your name day is also coming up is it not? Father told me all about it," Wyatt asked him. "Technically speaking, yes, it is," he replied, but in a sad tone as there was a bit more to his name day.


    Godric remembers from Wyatt''s father that the two of them were born around the same year the infamous rebellion started about twenty-three summers ago. Wyatt''s father, a blacksmith of great renown, was respected by everyone who had fought on either side as he played a crucial role in providing the weapons and armor that anyone desperately needed during the war, and for his part in defending Rosetown from a surprise siege by a squad of royal soldiers and loyalists. He took no side and only did what he thought was best for the people.


    His father lost an eye in the process, but that never hindered him in his skills in smithing for it was his hands that remembered how to create lumps of metal and ore into art. Because of this, Godric could say that Wyatt had lived a decent enough life being known as the son of a hero, a true man of the people, but the same could not be said for himself.


    Just as the war slowed to its final months, he was spotted and picked up by Wyatt''s father, who just happened to be near the riverbanks of Rosetown. At the time, he was fetching fresh water to clean wounds and wash off dirt from spare cloth when to his surprise, found Godric lying in a basket, neatly wrapped in white cloth and crying from the sound of war and screams in the distance. The smithy took pity on him and carried him back to camp, deciding to take Godric to town to keep him safe and under the farm hands'' protection.


    "Oi!" a shout snapped Godric back into reality. "What''s going on here?" An authoritative voice asked. The two lads turned and quickly recognized Walter, the obese and prideful son of one of the crooked guards that Wyatt and Godric knew all too well. He was notorious amongst his peers as he would use his father''s status and position to gain favor from those who were older than him, and abuse those who he saw were beneath him.


    If ever there was a living manifestation of a demon that could walk underneath the morning light, Godric thought, Walter would easily fit the description. "Well, if it ain''t the orphan and the pampered son," Walter said in a blunt, mocking tone as he neared the duo. "Off to no good today, eh?" He continued.


    "Good morning to you too, Walter," Godric replied, staring at him with a tired look, clearly not in the mood for his antics. "Oooh. What''s with that stare, farm boy?" Walter replied, annoyed as if he was insulted.


    "Don''t you have something better to do such as harvesting ''em crops? Be a good lad and do your job so we won''t be starving to death." The fellow now slowly walked up to Godric with a fist clenched up, clearly ready for a fight.


    "Now lads! Ease up, hahaha!" Wyatt suddenly interjected between the two and quickly pulled Godric back a distance to talk with him for a bit. "Give me a moment with this sucker, all right?" asked Wyatt as Walter let out a satisfied nod of approval.


    "Listen here, Godric. Do not pick a fight with that idiot, especially now." Wyatt whispered as he locked his arm behind Godric''s neck. "Everyone, and I mean everyone is still hungover from last night," Wyatt continued. "And trust me when I say you do not want ta'' pick up a fight with the head guard''s son, whose father might be more screwed up than this one is."


    Godric looked back at Walter, who was busy rummaging and looking through the weaponry stack for something. He then gave it a thought and finally reconsidered. "Okay, okay. You''re right," replied Godric. "Let''s just say we don''t want any trouble and be off."


    The two then walked back up to Walter who was somewhat preoccupied by the cart Wyatt was assigned to bring back to the local forgery. "Hey--hands off, Walter." Wyatt rushed to where the head guard''s son was. "You might be the head guard''s son, but you''re still a civilian. You know the rules. Civilians aren''t to carry weapons in Rosetown unless you''re carrying a permit or if is necessary." Wyatt continued, clearly strict about following the rules and respecting his father''s work.


    "But what if I do need a weapon to protect myself? Like, for example, this dagger right here." Walter replied as he revealed a steel dagger encrusted with a ruby beneath its hilt, a work that was clearly of fine craftsmanship.


    "What if someone..were to say, rob and threaten to kill me if I did not hand over my goods?" he continued as he eyed the dagger, clearly expressing interest in the weapon. "How much would this cost, Wyatt?" he then looked at the smithy''s son.


    "I''m sorry, but that ain''t for me to decide," Wyatt replied as he began preparing the horses for the ride back into town. "If you want, go ask my father, but I''m sure he wouldn''t be willing to sell it since you don''t have a permit on you, nor are you a guard." he continued.


    "C''mon, it''ll just be between us." Walter then proceeded to pick out a handful of silver coins from his pouch, catching the attention of the two.


    "Woah, woah. Where''d you get that much?" Wyatt immediately asked him. "It''s amazing what benefits you get being the son of the head guard," he replied as he let out a wink and mischievous grin. "So, what do you say?" Walter asked Wyatt, who was somewhat conflicted and seemed to think about the idea.


    "Seven circles of hell, do not even think about it, Wyatt," said Godric as he smacked his friend in the shoulder. "You''ll be getting into serious trouble with this!" He continued, clearly concerned for his friend''s safety and reputation if the townsfolk knew about the possible exchange.


    "Stay out of this, farm boy!" Shouted Walter in an annoyed tone. "If you want your weapon, go grab a shovel and while you''re at it, dig a hole and bury yourself in it. It''s where you belong after all, deep in the dirt, just like your seeds and crops!" Walter continued, clearly goading Godric into a fight, to which the lad was already ready as he swung a left fist onto the obnoxious demon-spawn''s nose out of anger, breaking it in the process.


    "Fucking brat!" Shouted Walter as he stumbled back and hit the ground hard, clearly surprised that someone would have the guts to step up to him. "You broke my fucking nose! I''ll get you for that!". Godric was ready for a fight when suddenly, Wyatt pulled him away from the possible fight and quickly motioned him to get on the cart.


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    "Bloody idiot! Get on up there and let''s go!" Wyatt motioned Godric to move. "I''ll drop you off to where you intended to go and we''ll just explain this to the authorities later." he continued as he quickly got up on his seat and commanded the horses to go full speed into town, leaving the bloodied face Walter on the road by himself, still spouting all kinds of profanity at Godric.


    "What, in the seven hells, were you thinkin''?!" Wyatt shouted as the cart rushed across town and passed by a few of the townspeople, with the morning breeze blowing up his messy auburn-colored hair. "If you sold that dagger, the both of us would have been in trouble!" Godric replied to his friend.


    "You know how he''ll abuse his power even more if he gets a hand on a weapon. If you accepted that silver and he got caught, he''d easily create some story saying that you were illegally selling weapons and convinced him to buy one." He continued to explain as he looked at Wyatt with a concerned look.


    "He''d get off easily with the help of his father and a couple of bribes, but you--you''d potentially be losing almost everything." He explained as silence separated the two.


    Despite the pace they were riding at, along with the mass of weapons, armor, and materials they had--the silence was the tone that caused the most noise. This continued until they reached the forgery near the town hall. "Listen, Wyatt. I''m sorry for earlier," said Godric, finally breaking the deafening hush that was separating the two. "No, no. He deserved it," replied Wyatt with an apologetic tone.


    "You were right back there. I shouldn''t have even considered doing so in the first place," he continued as he maneuvered the cart to the back of the forgery. "That swing was still unnecessary though. You''ll have a target on your back now." The blacksmith''s son warned his friend.


    "I know, I know," Godric replied as he helped carry the heavy cargo. "Thanks for the ride, Wyatt. I''ll just be walking the rest of the way from here," Godric said as he motioned toward the beautifully abundant field. He marched on the dirt road until he finally reached the tool shed. He slowly swung open the oak door to find his trusted sickle propped on the wooden corner of the small shed.


    "Well..." Godric said as he clutched the tool firmly in his hand. "Time to go to work."


    <hr>


    The farm boy worked and toiled throughout the entire day under the heat of the sun, only stopping once every few hours to catch a quick break and refresh himself. He carried numerous sheaves of wheat and stored them neatly inside the warehouse for the others to work with later on.


    Hours had passed, and soon Godric found himself lying underneath an oak tree, exhausted from harvesting and carrying wheat and other vegetables all day. A few moments later, he spotted a few of his fellow farmhands nearing the farm, getting ready to continue the work that Godric had already started.


    "You''re welcome!" Godric shouted at the incoming group in a tired and sarcastic voice. "Wow, thanks for making our work easier lad!" one of the farmhands replied. "I''ll be sure to put in a good word to Lord Mikhael for ya!" the farmhand continued as the others applauded Godric for his effort.


    "Take a rest, we''ll handle things from here." The leader of the group shouted as they dissolved toward different parts of the farm to work on their tasks.


    Godric after an eventful morning, followed by hours of hard work, lay down to get a well-deserved rest. "Finally," he exclaimed. "Some well-deserved sleep," Godric said as he found himself a nice spot to lie down. However, It didn''t take long for the peace to break down, for a few hours later, Godric heard angry shouting in the distance.


    "Where in the seven hells is that farm boy?!" Walter''s voice was distinguishable: a deep and coarse tone which Godric found incredibly annoying. "We''ve got an unsettled business, you and I!" the head guard''s son roared as he looked for any sign of Godric. Godric then stood up and saw Walter stomping along the road, his nose already clean but visibly broken.


    The lad saw that he was brandishing the dagger he had attempted to buy from Wyatt earlier and based on what had happened earlier in the morning, it did not take long for him to realize that he was in deep trouble. He sprinted across the field, attempting to hide from Walter, and thought about evading him for now and running back into the town to ask for help from Wyatt.


    The plan failed miserably, however, as the lad tripped and fell, dropping right across the dirt path in the middle of the field, where the brute spotted him. "Seems like the Divines have blessed me," said Walter with a menacing tone. "You''re going to pay for what you did," he continued, pointing to his damaged nose. "Also, I feel like a broken nose is not going to be enough, so maybe I need to step it up a bit, to remind you and all the others about who you''re messing with."


    He then pulled out the dagger from his side belt and pointed at Godric with the weapon. "I spent the entire day, thinking about how I should punish you, and I feel like a few slashes and stabs should do the trick," said Walter as he fiddled with the steel dagger. "Not to worry farm boy--it''ll be over quickly."


    Walter then swung the dagger with reckless abandon toward Godric, which Godric dodged by a hair. He picked himself up from the ground as Walter screamed and attempted another strike, this time with an attempted stab to his shoulder, but Godric was quick--as he managed to step inside and close the distance, catching Walter''s arm which held the dagger.


    This stopped the attack, and the two boys were caught in a brief contest of strength that favored Walter. "You''re an annoying little pest, you know that do you?" said Walter as he wrestled for control with Godric over the steel knife. "Yes, I do. For all that weight you''re lugging around--I assumed you''d be stronger than this." Godric shot back with a smirk on his face. He then kicked Walter in the stomach which made his opponent groan in pain.


    This angered Walter to the point where he dropped the dagger and pushed Godric back with such force that he fell to the ground with a hard thump. Walter then walked towards Godric and cruelly stomped him multiple times on his stomach and chest. The young lad, beaten and bruised, coughed up blood as he scrambled to get his bearings while Walter cackled, picked up the dagger, and stopped to prepare for his next attack.


    Godric scanned his surroundings, looking for anything that could defend him. He tried finding the other farmhands but found none were present. A thought then crossed his mind.


    The toolshed. He thought to himself. The boy then stood and ran towards the shed, attempting to find something to help him in this situation. He could hear Walter''s laughs and garbled insults echoing behind him.


    "Is this all you got, farm boy!?" Walter yelled. "If so, then I''m disappointed!" Godric entered the shed and realized that for the first time since the confrontation, he was helpless. Nothing here could help him against a dagger and a person twice his size, especially in an area as small as this. He thought. He examined his surroundings and thought about the possibilities to no avail.


    It didn''t take long for Walter to catch up and enter the shed, steel dagger in hand. "I told you it wouldn''t take long, farm boy," said Walter as he gave Godric a cold stare. "Because of what happened today, I''ll make you disappear. Not to worry, as I''ll be burying you right next to these crops of yours," he continued. "At least in that way, you''ll finally be of use for generations to come, as fertilizer, of course." Godric, although fearing for his life, was seething at the statement.


    Is this the end for me? He thought to himself. Am I to die in this shed, alone? These thoughts raced through his mind as he began to accept his tragic fate while Walter clutched the dagger, ready to strike him down when something caught the brute''s attention.


    "Godric!" Wyatt''s voice cried out. "Are you here?! We need to hide you from Walter--he''s gone completely mad!" Godric, out of instinct had snapped back to reality, blindly reached out for a tool he saw out of the corner of his eye, and closed his eyes as he swung it at Walter, hoping it would give him time.


    A grim silence consumed the room. A few seconds later, Godric heard a strained noise, followed by a loud thump on the floor. He opened his eyes and to his shock, found Walter, lying dead in a pool of his blood--the dagger still clutched in his hand, and with a sickle buried deep in his neck. Godric was repulsed at the sight and vomited as he fell to his knees.


    Fear and anxiety slowly started to consume him--he had never killed another person before, and he never wanted any of this to happen. He pulled the bloody sickle from the corpse it was lodged on. He had hated Walter, but never to the point where he wished death upon the lad. He sat back against the wall and stared at Walter''s dead body, wondering what to do with this mess. Soon after, he heard Wyatt nearing the shed. "Godric! There you a-" Wyatt paused in horror.


    "By the Divines, what happened here?" Godric had no response to his friend''s question.


    "Godric, tell me what happened," Wyatt asked his friend who was comprehending what he had done. "Godric? Snap out of it!" Wyatt smacked him hard in the face, strong enough to rouse Godric from his haze. "I-I killed him, Wyatt.." Godric finally spoke with a shaky voice. "I-I didn''t mean to--I swear I didn''t mean to." He continued as he slowly stood up, shaking.


    Wyatt helped his friend outside the shed and explained to Godric what had happened in town while he was away. "Walter had rushed into the barracks after entering the town and alarmed the guards about what happened earlier," said Walter. "He spread this false story about him seeing the two of us smuggle some weapons for ourselves from the cart I was carrying earlier, using the dagger as evidence," Wyatt then glanced at the dagger that still rested on Wyatt''s lifeless hand.


    "He then went off and said that he stood up against us and that we punched him in the face then ran off like nothing happened, but not before he was able to snatch the dagger away from us."


    Godric could not believe the situation he was in. He already knew that they had a rough time reasoning out what had happened earlier--but knew that with Walter dead, the townsfolk and the guards had all the reason to believe Walter''s side of the story. He knew that he was to be executed for murder, and to make things even worse, Wyatt would also be punished as well. He wanted to think and ask Wyatt what they should do, but the duo''s discussion was cut short as they heard the march of town guards on the main road. The two knew they were in trouble and had no time to hide Walter''s body.


    "Run," Wyatt motioned toward Godric.


    "What?" replied Godric with a surprised look on his face. "Run, Godric, far away from here where no one knows you," said Wyatt with a determined look in his eyes. "I can still have a chance to explain what went down here, but you don''t." he continued. "If the guards catch you here after hearing that false story, you''ll be executed on the spot."


    "I can''t just leave you here, Wyatt! This is my fault we got into this mess," exclaimed Godric. "There has to be another way we can both get out of this unscathed." he pleaded with his friend. "There is no other way Godric!" Wyatt shot back at him.


    "Run across the river and into the woods now!" The sound of the town guards were closing in, and soon enough, the two heard shouting in the distance. "There they are! Get them!" the head guard shouted. Wyatt, left with no choice, eventually clutched Godric''s clothes and pushed him towards the direction of the river.


    "Run! Now!" Wyatt screamed and pleaded with his friend.


    Godric then turned, and with one last look at his friend, ran. He hated himself for it. It was the most cowardly thing he''d ever done, and he knew he''d never be the same after this day. He ran and ran. His strength was already spent, but he knew he couldn''t stop now. Eventually, he reached the great river and began to cross the raging stream, feeling the cold water throughout his body.


    Hours later, he reached the outskirts of the forest. He looked back and in doing so, could no longer see the city, the farmlands, and the abandoned, stone house he used to call home. What greeted him instead was the light of the first autumn moon, signaling his new life which would start as he entered the mysterious forest. He took a second to say a few prayers for Walter and Wyatt.


    Godric took some time to take in everything that had happened. Eventually, the young man took a deep breath, composed himself, and armed with nothing but a bloodied sickle, entered the forest and into the unknown.

 Ch. 2 -- The Forest

    Godric, bruised and tired, entered the woods with nothing but a sickle to defend himself; using only the bright light of the first autumn moon to guide his path. He remained cautious, for even though he was out of the reach of the people who were hunting him down for execution after accidentally killing Walter, the dark forest itself contained another domain of danger as it was home to the Earth mother''s creations: wild animals that ranged in size, beasts, creatures of unknown origin, and most likely a clan of elves as their kind were known to rule over Primera''s various forests as both guardians of its inhabitants and what it had to offer.


    I have to keep moving, Godric thought to himself. Wyatt risked his life out there so I could have a second chance at life. I don''t intend to waste this opportunity away. Such thoughts ran through his mind as he journeyed deeper into the forest.


    Each time he heard an unsettling noise, he immediately sought cover while making sure not to make a sound, as he knew that a single action here in uncharted territory either meant life or death for him.


    Not long after, midnight had arrived and Godric''s strength was failing him. He needed food, water, and a quiet place to lay low for the rest of the night. The lad hadn''t eaten since midday, and fatigue only made his hunger worsen. Animals that he had never encountered before looked at him; others with curiosity, and others with a predatorial intent. Eventually, after walking for what seemed like hours, taking a few turns and venturing deeper into the forest, Godric found a beautiful glade that was decorated with flowers, a large tree--the largest he''d ever seen in his life, along with a captivating fountain made out of wood and stone, with glistening waters that overflowed and ran deeper into the deep, dark forest.


    Godric was at a loss for words. He''d never seen a landscape with such beauty before. The land he grew up in was beautiful--there was no doubt about that, but he knew that something was different about this one. The glade somewhat radiated an ancient presence: one that was powerful, and mysterious. Yet despite all this, Godric felt that the sight of the area could soothe the troubles of one''s mind with ease. He studied the rest of the moonlit area while he slowly made careful steps toward the fountain.


    As he slowly approached the fountain, he felt lighter, and his breathing slowed down--it was as if the fountain itself was recovering his lost strength. Eventually, he found himself in front of the fountain, which upon closer inspection, was ornamented with precious gems and stones that Godric was not able to identify. He paused to stare at the overflowing waters and soon found himself thirsty. His fatigue did disappear, but his hunger and thirst stayed. He surveyed the area around him, checking for any sign of danger. After doing so, he knelt on one knee and scooped a handful of water. "Here goes nothing," Godric said to himself and began to drink the water.


    His eyes widened as the water entered his body. His hunger was sated, and his thirst was quenched. He reached again for another drink and felt as if he had become a different person altogether. Soon, he noticed that the pain he was feeling all around his body was slowly fading, and found out that the wounds he received during his earlier fight with Walter had already healed. "By the Divines!" Godric exclaimed with excitement in his voice.


    He looked up at the night sky and realized that the moon was gone, covered by the clouds. This caused the entire area around him to darken, leaving nothing but the strange, glowing shrooms that surrounded the fountain and its waters his only light source.


    He stopped to think about what to do next and decided to get a few hours of sleep instead to kill some time until the sun appeared. He wandered off to the edge of the glade, where he nestled himself underneath the covers of a large Adhirala tree--a familiar evergreen for Godric, with its branches reaching out in different directions and adorned with leaves ranging from color to color. Godric wondered if he could even sleep after his weariness was cured by drinking the waters, but soon enough, the brown-haired lad drifted off into a deep slumber.


    Blurred visions then flashed rapidly in Godric''s mind, most of which he was not able to make out. There were some of which he was able to piece together to create a vivid scene, but it made no sense to him.


    What is this? he thought to himself.


    His inner thoughts wandered as he allowed the images to continue to flow. Finally, Godric found himself floating in an empty, and pitch-black void of space. Suddenly, a feeling of dread crept up his body as a voice pierced through the darkness, paralyzing him.


    "Nadur-gol vaz, kahazhima Uhrihim."


    Godric felt pain like never before--he wanted to scream out loud but could not do so as his body felt like it was trapped in time. Every part of his physical body ached in pain, he felt like his mind was slowly being pulled apart, while his spirit was being separated from his very being.


    The lad was helpless has he slowly closed his eyes, while his consciousness slowly drifted into nothingness.


    "Ahh!" Godric cried out as his upper body jolted up from sleep. He opened his eyes and to his surprise, found himself in an unknown place. He observed the room and based on how it was designed, had concluded that he was in an infirmary of sorts.


    "Where am I?" he asked out of instinct. A few moments later, a voice replied to him.


    "Oh--you''re awake," it said. "This is the second time that you have surprised me, mortal." Godric scanned the room to search for the source of the voice but to no avail. "My apologies--I forgot," the voice replied as it figured out what Godric was attempting to do. "Here, let me help you."


    Not long after, a tall figure materialized out of thin air. Godric scanned the individual from head to foot. The figure had hazy, gray-colored eyes, pointed ears, and long silver hair, it wore a white garment that had been embroidered with symbols of what Godric presumed to be eyes and the crescent moon.


    He looked on, awestruck. "You''re an elf, aren''t you?" He asked the figure. "Indeed I am," the elf replied. "You may call me l¨®m?." l¨®m? continued as he approached Godric who was propped up against his wooden bed.


    "We apologize if we did not show ourselves as soon as you woke up. We were under direct orders to do so," l¨®m? said as he walked toward Godric.


    "May I sit?" He asked. "Uhh...o-of course! Please!" The lad replied as l¨®m? sat down on the bed that was beside him.


    "Wait, what do you mean by we?" Godric asked, somewhat confused by what the elf had meant.


    "Oh. Anar¨®r?," l¨®m? replied. "Sister, please show yourself now. He is no threat to you." As soon as l¨®m? finished, another elf appeared out of the corner of the room, barely visible. Godric took a closer look and saw that the hooded figure already had a bow and arrow nocked in place--aimed directly at his head.


    "W-woah, woah!" Godric shouted as he fell out of bed, hitting the stone floor hard. He let out a pained groan as l¨®m? helped him up to his feet. "Rest easy, sister. Put down the bow. Father said to look after him, not scare him to death." l¨®m? continued as Godric slowly settled back into his bed while he tried to get a good look at his savior''s sister. l¨®m? and her had similar features, with the only differences being the figure, hair, and clothing. Twins. Godric thought to himself.


    "You cannot blame me if I am more cautious than you are, dear brother," Anar¨®r? said as she removed her hood to fully reveal her silver hair and pointed ears. "This mortal not only trespassed into the glade and sacred fountain but also drank from its waters. You know as well as I do that such an act is sacrilegious and knowing this, I am embarrassed to call myself the captain of the scouts." Anar¨®r? continued as she turned towards Godric.


    "Tell me mortal," Anar¨®r? began to ask. "How were you able to navigate through the woods and trespass into our sacred glade?" The elf asked with a suspicious look on her face.


    "How indeed?" l¨®m? also questioned Godric, as if it seemed that his sister''s query also earned his interest.


    Before Godric could attempt to answer them, another figure appeared at the entrance of the infirmary, all clad in silver armor. "My Lord l¨®m?, Lady Anar¨®r?," the soldier spoke after bowing out of respect. "The king wishes to speak with the mortal, immediately." The twins looked at each other in unison. Anar¨®r? looked back at him and acknowledged the message.


    "Thank you. Tell Father that we will be heading into the hall immediately." The soldier then took a bow, turned, and disappeared deeper into the building. "Well, it seems that you will have some explaining to do," l¨®m? said to Godric. "It would be best to ready yourself." He continued and without a moment''s hesitation, Anar¨®r? then grasped Godric''s shoulder, motioning him to get up. "Let''s go. Father is waiting for us."


    The trio walked outside the infirmary and deeper into the interior of what Godric presumed to be a castle, with the walls being a mixture of wood and stone. Godric noticed that there were no windows present, and the light that illuminated the halls came from fauna that Godric did not recognize; all of which looked magical in his eyes.


    "All of this might seem a bit strange to you, does it?" l¨®m? asked Godric, who was busy observing his surroundings. Eventually, they reached a wooden entryway and stepped through it to reveal an enormous chamber, which Godric could describe as a large, forested city. The chamber was teeming with animals, fauna, and beasts, and was home to other elves who lived in treehouses and fungi of unimaginable sizes. They maneuvered through the area using a silver-colored pathway that would fork off in different directions and would go either downwards or upwards, which provided a majestic view of the spectacle below them.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "How is this possible?" Godric wondered. "Simple, really: elven magic," Anar¨®r? replied to Godric with a sly look. "Each Great House specializes in a form of magic," l¨®m? stepped in to explain. Godric had no idea what the elf was attempting to tell him but decided to keep quiet. "Ours specializes in illusion and healing, as you may have witnessed earlier in the infirmary, and what you experienced back in the sacred glade," Godric remembered how the twins revealed themselves from before.


    Magic? What on earth is that? Godric thought to himself. Before he could continue to ponder his thoughts he stopped in his tracks.


    Idiot! He thought to himself. These two are royalty--where are my manners!? Quickly, the young man knelt on one knee.


    "A-apologies for my rudeness, your majesties!" Godric said as he lowered his head to the ground, embarrassed for being too late in realizing who he had been with this entire time.


    He was only met with silence, which was soon followed by an unexpected laughter from the elves. "This mortal is an odd one," Anar¨®r? said to her twin. She then turned to Godric, confused and somewhat flustered. "In case you haven''t noticed yet, you are being treated as a guest of House Alastrassa--no need for such formalities." She continued.


    "If you were concerned about being punished for any disrespect, I would have let loose an arrow the moment you were brought inside our domain." The princess continued. "Let us not be hasty and resort to this type of behavior. This is not the time to be fighting, dear sister. Father is waiting up ahead." l¨®m? quickly calmed down the tension was building between the two. They continued towards a pathway that led to the center which was a large, wooden tree that held up the entire chamber.


    Moments passed, and the trio entered a hall surrounded by a crowd of different beings--inhabitants of the forest. Elven soldiers lined up in formation towards the center of the great hall, which was decorated with an intricately carved throne made of Adhirala wood and unknown stone. On the intricate wooden throne sat a figure who commanded a powerful presence, one that shook the boy to his core.


    Godric immediately knew that it was none other than the elven king himself. The two twins knelt in front of their father, and Godric followed suit.


    "I hope you prepared a good excuse, my friend, I bid you good luck." l¨®m? whispered to Godric as the twins left to join their father, with one of each twin standing beside one side of their father. Soon after, a robed figure embodied in twigs stepped forward.


    "You are in the presence of King Ithilien--the first of his name, head of House Alastrassa, the high sage of the druids, and the ruler of Mistveil Forest. Speak human, and declare your intentions." The robed figure proclaimed loudly, its voice echoing throughout the great hall.


    Godric looked up to glimpse what he got himself into and saw what he believed to be greatness personified. The king had hair that seemed like it was bathed in moonlight. He had gentle, yet sophisticated looks which proved his ancient lineage. He looked similar to l¨®m?, with the only exception being a scar that ran through his right cheek and an aura of sophistication. On his head, lay a simple custom-made crown of wood, and behind the throne was an Adhirala tree which contained a hand-carved symbol of what Godric believed to be the Alastrassa family crest: a crescent moon. Godric felt trapped in time. The king suddenly stood and approached him, to which Godric stood up in response.


    "You are Godric of Rosetown if I am not mistaken," said the king, breaking the awkward silence. "Your name is a mystery to me. How fares Lord Mikhael?" he continued as Godric slowly stood up. "H-how do you know who, and where I''m from if I may ask, Your Majesty?" Godric asked the king, genuinely curious but scared as well.


    "You mortals have your means of communication," Ithilien responded. "You rely on messengers, while nature provides us with what we need. The trees, the waters, and even the earth itself whisper to us," the king explained. "I know your story, young one. Far from here, blood was spilled on your account," said the king as he circled Godric, invoking hushed and curious murmurs from the crowd.


    "How that came to be is of no concern to me. The rushing waters felt your guilt as the land your struggle. However, what I want to know is how you navigated through our forests unscathed." Ithilien stopped and looked at Godric, now with a serious look.


    "Mistveil Forest is my domain, and not only did you walk inside uninvited, but you also drank from the sacred waters of the glade."


    The gathered crowd stood in shock at what they heard. While others remained silent, others cried out in anger, spewing curses in languages Godric did not know.


    "Please give me a moment to explain myself!" Godric pleaded. At this point, more of the crowd began to join the rioting ones. The guards in coordination motioned to stop the masses from closing the distance between themselves and Godric. The boy began to panic, as he did not like the idea of being crushed to death by an angry mob of creatures in an unknown place.


    "Ilu-dina!"


    A deafening shout rang throughout the hall which distorted Godric''s senses. As the words rang through Godric''s body, he felt compelled to follow the voice''s orders, despite not knowing the language. The same could be said for everyone present as suddenly, the room fell into an eerie silence. As the words rang through his body, he felt as if he was forced to obey.


    "Thank you, l¨®m?," said the king. "It did feel a little forced. Please work on that." The prince responded with a simple bow of his head.


    "Now, back to the matter at hand. Godric, what do you have to say for yourself?"


    Godric took a moment to compose himself as he was still reeling from what l¨®m? had supposedly done. "Everyone, please listen," the boy began to start. "I did not mean to insult nor offend any of you. I confess that I murdered a person by accident," Godric remembered Walter.


    "A friend risked everything for me and told me to run in this direction, but I believe that he did not know this was your land. I was tired, wounded, starving, and thirsty. Entering your domain was the only thing I could think of at the time. How I came to your glade I do not know. I merely followed the light of the moon. Your waters and lands saved me, if not prolonged my inevitable death last night. If there is any punishment, I''ll gladly accept it." His words rang with a hint of sincerity, which caught the entire court off guard.


    Whispers began to spread across the hall. The king''s expression changed after hearing Godric''s words, while the twins looked at each other as l¨®m? smiled at her sister, who had a conflicted look. "You are a curious one, Godric of Rosetown," said Ithilien.


    "Beings of this court," he said as he turned towards everyone present. "You have heard this mortal''s story. What say you on this matter?" The crowd looked at each other momentarily in silence, waiting for someone to speak.


    "I say we test him," a voice finally broke out amongst the crowd. It came from a druid dressed in a brown robe. "I believe his story, and that he is indeed, innocent--but only in the eyes of few." The crowd murmured in what Godric believed to be in approval.


    "My king Ithilien, all of us are bound to the Codex. We elves are no exception to that. Let the old gods provide the mortal a challenge. Should he succeed, he may walk out of Mistveil Forest alive, well-rested, and absolved of his sins. We shall speak for him ourselves. If he fails, we imprison him and send a message to those who seek his head." The brown-robed druid explained to the king.


    King Ithilien pondered about this suggestion for a brief moment. "Very well." He said. "Godric of Rosetown, hear my answer: you are currently a guest of Mistveil Forest and under the protection of House Alastrassa. However, due to your actions--we also hold you on trial for desanctifying our sacred glade. Accomplish a task we shall provide you, and you will be rewarded. Fail, and you will be thrown to the wolves. On this matter, you have our word. I request the small council to accompany me as we discuss his possible trial. Everyone--I thank you for attending. You may go."


    Every being in the room paid their respects to the king as the chamber slowly emptied, leaving only Godric and a handful of figures.


    "My children, I will be tasking you to help Godric with his task. See to it that he is well prepared."


    "Of course, Father. We will not fail you." The twins replied in unison. "I know that you will not." The king then left the room with his small council, their steps echoing the room until they disappeared out of sight.


    "That turned out a bit more unexpected than I presumed, but nice work on making it out alive," l¨®m? said as he looked at Godric with an amused look. "This is the third time you''ve surprised me." He continued. l¨®m? let out a whistle and a group of dryads came out of hiding, giggling as they neared the elf prince. "Please prepare his quarters, dear friends." The dryads were quick to take action as they hurried off to the other side of the room, disappearing as fast as they appeared.


    "Come now, Godric," he continued. "You have much to prepare for."


    The trio walked in silence as they left the room and toward the direction where the dryads rushed into. The sounds of nature echoed throughout the pathway and back into the forested chamber. It continued long after they had entered a hidden entrance in front of a marked tree that unveiled itself after approaching it.


    "So...am I safe?" Godric asked the twins as they walked the dimly lit hall.


    "For now, yes. Father has ruled these lands for countless millennia." Anar¨®r? replied to Godric. "His word is respected through Mistveil Forest, the two other elven settlements in the north and west, and even in your kind''s lands--if the rulers still remember him." Godric could hear a sense of pride in her voice, one of admiration. He felt from her tone that she wanted to be as great as her father.


    "Keep this in mind Godric," she continued. "Even though you are placed under our family''s protection, we do not intend to disappoint our Father. We will prepare you for the trial that awaits you, so be prepared for anything." The trio soon stopped after reaching a door that Godric assumed to be the entrance to his room.


    "We''ve arrived," l¨®m? said to Godric. "Please, after you." The elf said as Godric entered the room. To his surprise, the room was darker than he had anticipated, and what he assumed to be a flat surface turned out to be a straight stairway downwards, as Godric fell and rolled until he hit the cold, stone floor. The twins slowly made their way downwards, their steps echoing through the room.


    "You are indeed, a guest in our house, Godric," l¨®m? said as his expression changed, turning the gentle-looking elf into a different version of himself. "However, that does not mean your stay will be pleasant." He continued as Godric got up on his feet.


    The lad looked around to see that the room they were in was a training area of sorts.


    "We will obey Father''s wish to help you, and we shall do so, but in our manner." Anar¨®r? continued after her twin. "Not to worry you will not die--as promised, but we will also tell you this truth: if you cannot even manage to survive a sliver of what we will offer for you to succeed in your upcoming trial, then believe us when we say that you will fail."


    The twins were now circling Godric, like wolves hunting down their prey. "Prepare yourself, mortal, you have a painful journey ahead of you." l¨®m? said as he stared Godric dead in his eyes.


    Godric, nervous as he was, calmed himself as he knew he had nothing to lose, and faced the two with a courageous look.


    "All right," Godric said to the twins. "Let''s get started then." The twins smiled in approval of his response and looked eager to train their new guest for the days to come.

 Ch. 3 -- Ghost

    The walls felt like they were caving in on him. His breathing was heavy, his sight blurry, and his body beaten, but his spirit remained intact. Many moons have already passed since the events of the fateful day that changed his life. The lad was imprisoned inside the dungeon cellars underneath the castle. He was surrounded by the cruelest things imaginable: rapists, murderers, thieves, arsonists, psychopaths. The air was suffocating, and there was barely any light--but Wyatt held on. For weeks, he was locked in a cell with three other criminals and would regularly get food. He counted himself as one of the lucky ones as his cellmates were more reasonable than the others, while everybody else fought for every piece of scrap they could lay their hands on.


    Numerous footsteps along with the sound of steel began to spread throughout the prison. "Wake up, pieces of filth!" The jailer cried out, rousing the weary and sleeping rogues from their slumber. "It''s time to feast." He said as he was accompanied by a few of the castle guards.


    He opened each prison cell one by one and laid down a large bowl of food. After locking the doors back again, chaos would erupt as everyone fought for the food like starving, rabid hounds. "Look at you all," the jailer said. "What a pathetic sight." He laughed as he proceeded to complete his routine and head back towards his quarters.


    "Hey," Wyatt''s cellmate called out to him. "Food''s here. Eat." The man patted the cold, stone floor, signaling the lad to sit. "Thank you," Wyatt replied as he walked over and sat beside his cellmates who were already eating.


    "What''s the menu for today, Hawk?" He asked. "Oh, the usual. Stale bread, some scraps, a few mugs of water, and look at what we have here boys--more fucking stale bread." Hawk replied and was able to get Wyatt and the others to let out a laugh, however, the same couldn''t be said for the other inmates.


    "Look at them, fighting over food as if they had any strength to spare." Another cellmate began to point out as he ate. "Leave them be Cassian, it''s for the best to just mind our own business." The other cellmate of theirs replied. "I can''t stand stupidity Gregory," Cassian replied with an annoyed look. "We eat, do some work, and sleep. That''s how the cycle goes until our body gives out and we die." He continued. "Lads, let''s just thank the Divines we''re still alive and continue to eat our breakfast in peace," Hawk said after gulping down his water.


    Wyatt was, in a way amazed at his three cellmates. The conditions they were in were harsh, but they continued, unbothered. They were in here longer than he was and for unjust reasons as well. The days after Wyatt had spent his first night in prison and shared his story, they welcomed him with open arms and shared theirs as well.


    Hawk was once a budding baker who traveled across Primera to hone his craft. One day, he found himself in trouble with some corrupt guards as he passed by Rosetown. Hawk was forced to pay a non-existent toll, and when he forcefully declined, was beaten into submission and dragged into prison. He was wrongfully charged with theft as the guards claimed that all his possessions were items that were noted to be missing items from other towns.


    Cassian was a medical practitioner in training whom Wyatt was somewhat familiar with. He was assigned to be tutored under Rosetown''s head physician alongside another trainee and was doing well for himself. This allowed him to gain the physician''s praise while also inciting jealousy from his fellow trainee. A few months went by after starting his study when suddenly, the head physician died after drinking one of his daily doses of medication. Cassian knew that it was the other trainee as he spotted him in the alchemy lab one night, looking at vials that were filled with different colored liquids. However, after reporting the incident to the authorities, he found himself being the one to be dragged and locked up, as the missing vial from the alchemy lab was found in his sleeping quarters--framing him as the culprit.


    And last was Gregory. He told Wyatt and the others that he was a traveling merchant from a neighboring continent. He journeyed off to Primera to pay respects to King Septimus years ago and fell in love with the land. He frequently went back and forth to sell his wares, and one day was unfortunately caught in the middle of a messy confrontation with some bandits on the outskirts of Lord Mikhael''s territory. He was suspected to be one of the bandits since he had unrecognizable features and was immediately thrown into the nearest cell.


    Wyatt looked at the three and pondered for a while. Eventually, he realized the reason why they were able to work together while in such an environment. He realized that they shared a common bond: it was that they were wronged. We don''t belong here, he silently thought as he almost finished his share of the rations.


    A few hours passed by and the jailer returned. "All right you lot," he said. "Time to work!" The jailer then led the prisoners out, escorted by armed soldiers who led them to areas in town that served as their assigned workplace.


    After the civil war had ended, tensions were still high despite the supposed peace between the Great Houses. House Polifio wanted to strengthen their military again because of their losses and decreed that the majority of able-bodied men without any jobs join the military instead. This left the local town needing workers. The prisoners were then tasked instead to solve this problem. This served as a way of paying for their sentences--to try and earn back the trust of others. If the populace were to praise someone for their work and behavior, they may be granted a pardon.


    This law had always made Wyatt feel uncomfortable. He, with the rest of the populace, had mixed thoughts about this. However, after spending time with his cellmates, he saw goodness--a slight glimmer of hope, that maybe this was not such a bad idea after all.


    As they walked, Wyatt and his friends were informed that their group was assigned to help with the forgery. This made Wyatt feel uneasy despite growing up in this line of work. This was the first day since his imprisonment that he would get a chance to see his father. He never got a chance to do so--the moment he lost sight of Godric, the guards quickly cornered him, rendered him unconscious, and Wyatt woke up in prison with a sore headache.


    Moments passed, and his group saw the smithy up ahead, accompanied by the familiar sound of ringing metal and ore being smelted. Wyatt also saw an all-too-familiar person already rushing toward their direction. The guards stood in formation but the man paid them no mind as he brushed by them and gave his son a warm embrace--one that the lad desperately needed.


    "Wyatt, my boy!" Wyatt''s father said as he hugged his son tight, holding back tears. "Oh, thank the Divines! Are you hurt? Did they feed you inside there? Did any of them threaten you?" He then picked up a hammer from a nearby table and pointed it at the guards. "You know my son is innocent! Let him out of that hell right now!" He screamed, threatening everybody in sight. "Father, calm down! I''m fine for now." Wyatt calmed his father, who then put the hammer down.


    "This group is assigned to you for the week, smithy," A guard informed the blacksmith. "They''ll work until sunset. After that, they''ll return to the cells, and will be back the next morning." he continued.


    "I understand," the blacksmith replied. "I''ll handle it from here." He signaled the guards to leave them to be as he rested his arm on his son''s shoulder. "We''ll be watching, remember that." The other guard reminded the group as they left the scene.


    "These pathetic excuses we have for guards don''t scare me." The blacksmith said as he chuckled. He turned to Wyatt''s group, fixing himself first. "Well then! Excuse me for what happened earlier," he continued as he faced the group. "The name''s Dale Blackwood. My brothers-in-arms call me Dale, the townsfolk call me Mr. Blackwood, my enemies call me "Ironclad", but you three can call me friend." Dale let out a smile. "Now, before we get started: why don''t you introduce me to these fellows here, son?"


    Minutes went by and introductions were made. Wyatt was surprised at how his father easily accepted them, even though they were labeled as criminals. "I know a good person when I see one," the blacksmith said as he looked at the people Wyatt spent weeks with. "Even with only one good eye left, I can still see goodness in people--and all of you were wronged by this brand of justice that we claim to have." Dale continued as he suddenly took a bow. "My son survived in there because of you three. You took him in without hesitation and treated him as your own. I''m forever in your debt. I''ll put in a good word for all of you--that, I promise." The blacksmith looked at them with conviction.


    "Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Blackwood," Cassian was the first to express his gratitude. "We''ll see to it as well that your son is protected." He continued as he turned towards his fellow prisoners. "Well, as you can tell Mr. Blackwood sir--aside from young Wyatt here, we''re no experts when it comes to metalwork," Hawk continued on the conversation. "Just tell us what to do sir, and we''ll try our damn best." The blacksmith looked at the four of them, thinking about what they should do.


    "Let''s see here..." He pondered. "Wyatt, I have here some armor that an adventurer ordered three nights ago," the blacksmith picked up a chest plate that had been placed underneath a table. "I just finished it last night. The man said to deliver it to him once he''s done at the local tavern. That''s where he''s staying. Take Gregory along with you--this thing''s heavy, so take turns carrying it."


    The blacksmith said as he passed the chest plate to Wyatt who almost dropped to the ground because of the weight. "Here--let me help you," Gregory said as he helped Wyatt up and carried the armor as well.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "This thing is heavy--what''s this made out of?" the merchant was curious. "It was some metal I got from some dwarven friends up in the Echoing Mountains," the blacksmith replied. "The stuff is heavy, I''ll give it that--but it is a tough one, all right. The client looks to be a strong one as well, so he should be fine."


    "Cassian, you go help me with melting the rest of the remaining ore. I know you practiced medicine before, so why not learn something new?" Dale said to Cassian, who was pleased with the choice. "This''ll be interesting," Cassian replied with a curious tone.


    "Finally, Hawk." The blacksmith turned to the prisoner. "Earlier on I heard you''re a baker. I''ll give you some money--fetch some ingredients from the market and prepare something for us to eat later at midday. I bet you lads are starving, so I''ll see to it that your bellies are full before going back to the cells." He continued as he handed the wide-eyed Hawk a sack of silver.


    "Thank you for this opportunity, sir!" Hawk replied in a gleeful tone as he rushed towards the marketplace. "You won''t regret this, lads! We''ll be feasting today!" His voice trailing off in the distance.


    "Does he even know where he''s going?" Wyatt asked, concerned about his friend''s safety. "Not to worry, Hawk''s got an abnormal sense of direction when it comes to finding things he wants," Gregory replied. "Well then, let''s be off, shall we?" He continued as they ventured off to the tavern, while Dale continued talking with Cassian.


    "Your father''s a nice fellow, isn''t he?" Gregory, the eldest of the four, asked Wyatt as they neared the tavern. "Yes, and I thank the Divines that I was blessed with a father like him," Wyatt replied as they entered the tavern and placed the chest plate on the counter where it landed with a loud thud, which shook the innkeeper.


    "Who--oh, Wyatt! It''s just you." the innkeeper said as he attempted to move the chest plate to the side of the counter. "Your name''s been making rounds in the tavern for about three fortnights already. With what happened, you do not need to worry lad as a few farmhands can vouch for you. They say they saw you arrive late to the scene," he continued.


    "Also, from what I heard: they saw the entire thing happen between Godric and that Walter fella--well, except for what happened inside the shed." The innkeeper explained as the duo listened.


    Wyatt felt a wave of relief over him but was worried about Godric''s safety. Gregory looked at Wyatt and observed that he had a troubled look on his face. "This Godric," the merchant turned to Wyatt. "Who is he to you?" He asked, intrigued about the person who was the reason Wyatt was in prison.


    Wyatt thought about it for a moment. "He''s a friend, I feel sorry for him," he replied after a moment in silence. "The town treats him like an outcast, and even though he thinks that it doesn''t bother him, it does," the lad explained to Gregory.


    "And you know this, how?" he asked. "Godric said something the me one day, and it changed my perspective on a few things," Wyatt replied, as Gregory sat down on a nearby chair.


    "I asked him one day, how he manages to continue living in such a way and he merely said: ''If the world thinks I''m different, then so be it--what matters, in the end, is what I think of myself. They''ll call me names, and make fun of who I am but to hell with them.''" Wyatt recalled Godric''s words. "He doesn''t show it--but it does bother him, and because of that, I''m rooting for him to prosper in a way." He continued explaining to Gregory and the innkeeper as they both listened intently.


    "He continued saying that he wanted to find a greater purpose in the world. and so I told him to go run into the woods, hoping I''d be able to help him with his dream." he continued.


    "Hold on lad," the innkeeper suddenly spoke, his voice full of concern. "Which forest did you send him to?" he continued as he left the counter and approached Wyatt. "I told him to run toward the southern forest, past the great river. Why?" Wyatt replied, somewhat feeling a sense of dread after seeing the innkeeper''s reaction.


    "By the Divines lad; you sent him to Mistveil Forest," the innkeeper replied with a pale look on his face. "That is the kingdom of the great elven king! From what I''ve heard, their House is known to be more reasonable to other races, but no one enters the elven land uninvited. If he entered that forest, it would be a miracle if he was still alive." Wyatt could not believe what he''d done. The feeling of dread turned into terror. He felt horrible as thoughts of him sending his friend to certain death flooded his mind.


    He felt a heavy load press down on his body as if he carried a boulder. "Easy lad," Gregory did his best to cheer him up. "Based on what you''ve told me, I can tell this friend of yours is gonna be okay," he said as he patted Wyatt on the back. "Now let''s go, we still have to deliver this hunk of armor." He looked at the chest plate pressed against the wall at the end of the counter.


    "Oh, that''s quite an impressive piece," the innkeeper commented on Dale''s work. "I think I know who this might belong to. He''s just upstairs--first door on the left. Don''t forget to knock as he''s a bit on edge, and uhh..let''s say he''s an interesting one." he warned the duo.


    "T-thanks, old man. You too, Gregory." Wyatt said as he calmed down a bit, even though the feeling remained. "No worries. Now let''s go. Our customer''s waiting." Gregory replied as the duo began to lift the chest plate again and climb up the stairs onto the adventurer''s quarters.


    The duo reached their destination and Wyatt knocked on the wooden door. Soon after, heavy footsteps were heard inside the room, approaching the two who were patiently waiting on the other end. The door swung open and Wyatt expected a big, burly man, but to his surprise, what greeted the two instead was a man whose features were foreign to Wyatt. He was armed and dressed strangely. The man was lightly armored, had a dark skin tone, was tall, and around his neck, he adorned a dark, deep orange scarf. Wyatt sensed something off about him, as he analyzed the two, but mainly focused on Gregory.


    "Wyatt, go downstairs," Gregory suddenly said as he stood face-to-face with the mysterious stranger. "Give me a moment with our customer," Wyatt replied with a nod and went back down the stairs, nearing the counter where the innkeeper was waiting.


    "Well, how''d it go?" The innkeeper who was cleaning a mug asked.


    "Old man, do you have any idea who your guest is?" Wyatt asked the innkeeper as he sat himself down on a chair. "Ahh...I told you he''s a strange one," the innkeeper replied. "If memory serves me right, our guest is from the neighboring continent of Azane. The skin tone and clothes also tell me he hails from a city that people say is found somewhere in the center of the continent--one that''s surrounded by sand and dust."


    Wyatt listened to the innkeeper, becoming even more curious about the man. "Surrounded by sand and dust?" Wyatt asked, puzzled. "How do they even survive?" He asked again. "Well, that I don''t know lad. Does this face look like it''s been to another continent?" The innkeeper joked as he pointed at his face, which made the two chuckle. Moments later, they heard a door shut, and footsteps come down the stairs. It was Gregory, who had a stern look on his face.


    "What happened?" Wyatt asked. "Did something happen?"


    "We talked for a bit--but nothing to worry about," Gregory replied as he approached the two. "Let''s be off. We probably still have more work to do once we get back." He continued as he opened the door. "Thanks for the hospitality, old man." He respectfully nodded at the innkeeper.


    The innkeeper replied with a nod of his own. "Take care now, you two." The two headed out the door and waved goodbye to the innkeeper who smiled as the door closed.


    "Hey, what happened up there?" Wyatt asked Gregory as they passed the town square, just a few corners from where the forgery was. "Nothing. He rubbed off on me in the wrong way, so I had to step in and do something." His cellmate replied as he began to walk faster than normal. Wyatt felt something was off.


    "Hold on Gregory, I feel like there''s something wrong here. Who was that person?" He continued, pressuring his cellmate into telling something that he knew he was keeping secret.


    "A ghost of my past--nothing more," Gregory replied. "We''ll discuss no more of this." He said as he turned to look at the auburn-haired boy. "We all shared our stories in prison as a sign that we trust each other," Wyatt grabbed Gregory''s shoulder. "Why hide this from us?" He looked at him dead in the eye.


    "Because boy, it is not a story that any of you should know!" Gregory shouted at Wyatt, catching the attention of the townspeople who were present. "What''s going on here?" A guard approached the two. Before they had a chance to explain, Hawk suddenly arrived, ingredients on hand. "Ahh--apologies for that, my friends are just hungry, that''s all!" Hawk smiled at the guard, who somewhat felt like he didn''t want to be bothered in the first place. "Okay. Get on with it then." He then motioned the three to move along.


    "What in the seven hells is going on?" Hawk whispered to the two as they continued walking, with the forgery already in sight. "Hawk, Gregory''s hiding something from us," Wyatt said as Gregory looked at him with a concerned look. "Don''t do this, Wyatt," the prisoner suddenly pleaded with Wyatt, who was caught surprised, along with Hawk. "For all of your sakes."


    "What do you mean for all our sake--"


    Hawk was not able to finish his question as he was interrupted by a loud explosion in the distance. The trio dropped to the floor as screaming was heard from all directions. This continued until a nearby building exploded, causing debris to scatter everywhere. Wyatt and Gregory quickly rolled to dodge the burning wood, as Hawk helped a nearby person up to their feet.


    Soon after, Wyatt saw men who were clothed in the same fashion as the man from earlier appear from two directions, carrying weapons and what seemed to be bags of gold and silver.


    As the trio watched the scenario unfold, one of the individuals spotted them and took a good look at Gregory. The stranger then spoke something to him in an unknown language, to which Gregory also replied. Wyatt and Hawk looked on in confusion, dumbfounded at what was unfolding in front of their eyes.


    "Gregory--hey!" Hawk shouted at his friend. "What is going on?" he asked, hoping to find the answer that he and Wyatt desperately needed.


    "It did not have to come to this," Gregory replied with a completely different voice, accompanied by a completely different accent--one that was not familiar to either Wyatt or Hawk, based on the expression on their faces. "I did not want to share this story with any of you because I wanted to spare you from the dangers of my world, but perhaps it was inevitable."


    "Who are you?" Wyatt asked him, as Gregory slowly became a stranger in his eyes. "I do not know myself. This...Gregory you speak of, is but a million of my names." Slowly, a number of the mysterious men surrounded them. Hawk and Wyatt readied themselves for a fight. However, their cellmate spoke a few words that sounded like a command, to which the others soon followed.


    "Allow me to introduce myself," he continued. "For you my friends, you can call me Xhiamas--head scout of the Wandering Arrows." Wyatt and Hawk stared in disbelief as the man they thought they knew, had turned into a completely different person in a snap of a finger.

 Ch. 4 -- Blessings & Regrets

    The scene was a whirlwind of fear and confusion. The once peaceful town was now filled with chaos, with people of all ages shouting and children crying. The smell of smoke filled the air as flames swallowed homes. The sound of fighting was heard from all directions. Wyatt found himself standing on cobblestoned streets, feeling lost and afraid as he tried to make sense of the entire mess. Hawk looked around them and instinctively positioned himself to protect the boy. The two were no longer sure whether or not to trust this stranger''s words. A man they once called a friend had completely transformed into someone else.


    "Do not worry," Xhiamas said as one of their members approached and provided him with clothing similar to theirs. "I, nor any of my partners here wish you no harm." Hawk fumed at what he had heard. "No harm? Look around you!" He screamed at the man, furious. "All you''ve done is nothing but terrorize these poor people!"


    Xhiamas simply laughed at the idea, which Hawk found insulting. Wyatt could feel his anger but like him, there was nothing else he could do.


    "Wyatt, Hawk--do not be so quick to judge us. Open your eyes and take a closer look at what is going on around you." The stranger smiled as the two looked around, hoping to figure out what he had meant.


    One of the strange men approached Xhiamas and gave him clothing similar to theirs. He then spoke something to him in a calm, yet hurried tone. "Have patience, brother. We have to enlighten our friends first." He replied.


    The two looked all around them, but Wyatt observed something that Hawk failed to notice at first glance. "The buildings being burned," he began to speak. "They''re mostly used by the guards--you''re burning down the armories and barracks." He concluded. "But, why?" Wyatt asked him, puzzled.


    "Hah, let me explain. Ehh..perhaps we got off on the wrong foot here, mainly because of the...suddenness of things," Xhiamas replied, who now was slowly walking around the cobblestone court, somewhat unbothered by everything. A squadron of guards was seen rushing towards them. Xhiamas barked an order in a foreign tongue, to which his men quickly responded by fighting off the advancing wave.


    "We, my friends, are known by different names. However--here in Primera, we are known as the Wandering Arrows," the stranger explained. "Our organization is known across different continents as troublemakers, anarchists, thieves; you name it, it is most likely we''ve already been regarded as such." He continued.


    "However, that is only what the rich and powerful say," he stopped and faced them with a serious look in his eyes. "In this cruel world of ours, only those with power and money have control over life and even the truth as well--you both are witnesses to this. You have been wronged in your ways, as have I," Hawk and Wyatt looked at him, conflicted as his powerful words held truth. "We undertook a vow to correct any wrongdoings. That, my friends, is our only purpose." Xhiamas said.


    Hawk approached Xhiamas, who was still staring at them, waiting for a response. "Then why all this?" he asked. "Why go to such lengths to correct wrongdoings?" His voice filled with sadness and confusion.


    "Because, my friend, to truly make a difference, one must be willing to sacrifice things that they hold precious--even if this causes pain to oneself," Xhiamas replied, gripping Hawk''s shoulder. "I do not wish to cause suffering for these people, for they have suffered enough already. But I believe after what happened today, they will grow." He continued.


    Wyatt looked at Xhiamas, and despite the sudden change, he saw a glimpse of his former cellmate. Gregory never left after all. He thought to himself.


    "Rest easy. If you are worried about innocent people, I have already ordered my men to leave them be and keep the rowdy prisoners in check--along with the guards." Xhiamas said.


    "How would they know which one is which?" Wyatt asked, curious about what he had heard. Out of nowhere, a hooded member of the Arrows appeared, his face covered by a red cloth. He unveiled himself to Hawk and Wyatt, and the two were shocked that they recognized the member as one of the prisoners found in another cell in the prison.


    "You would be surprised at how far ahead we plan these things," Xhiamas chuckled as he issued an order to the member, who nodded and disappeared as quickly as he emerged. "I have a proposition for you two, along with Cassian. Let us continue this discussion at your home--come, let us make haste." He said as the three of them began to run.


    Soon afterward, they found themselves back at the forgery which they found was fortunately unharmed. Wyatt immediately ran to find his father and Cassian. "Father! Where are you?" the boy shouted amidst the continued chaos.


    "Cassian? Where are you two? It''s us! We''re back!" It took a moment, but eventually, the trio heard a noise inside the Blackwood house. They rushed toward the sound and found the two--armed and ready for a fight.


    "Thank the Divines, it''s just you three," Dale said as he lowered his weapon and approached the trio. "What''s going on out there?" Cassian asked, with a sword still in hand. Wyatt and Hawk looked at Xhiamas in response to the question, which prompted Dale and Cassian to look as well. The blacksmith inspected Xhiamas, and the group observed a conflicted look had formed on his face.


    "You..." The blacksmith said as he fixed his gaze on the stranger, recognizing his foreign clothing. "You''re an Arrow?" He asked.


    "Yes. I am what you think I am, Dale Blackwood," Xhiamas replied. "I''ve heard of you a long time ago--I was still young back then. It is my honor to meet the fabled hero of Rosetown." He continued with a sense of respect in his tone.


    "...You know of me?" Dale asked, humbled but also confused. "Of course. Your story is well known amongst our ranks--saving countless innocent lives many autumn moons ago during the war is an act that we believe is worthy of acknowledgment." Xhiamas replied as he turned his attention to the entire group.


    "Listen well, my friends," he said as he studied the looks of everyone present in the room. "You may have many questions, all of which will be answered--I assure you. However, the time or place does not provide such an opportunity. This leads me to a proposition." Xhiamas turned to his cellmates. "Hawk, Cassian, and you, Wyatt--I invite you to join our ranks and become one of us." the trio stared at the man dumbfounded while Dale approached him and grabbed his golden-brown scarf.


    "What are you playing at?" The blacksmith asked, staring daggers at him as Xhiamas was lifted off the ground with ease.


    "I am merely giving my friends a second chance at life. A greater purpose, if you will. From the time I spent with them in prison, I deem them worthy to be members of our organization. I will vouch for them. Me, along with a few others--this, I assure you, Dale Blackwood." Xhiamas looked at the blacksmith. "If you are concerned about your son''s safety, do not worry. I will do what I must to prepare him for the journey ahead." He assured Dale.


    The blacksmith hesitated for a moment but eventually loosened his grip. He then looked at the trio that were waiting for his word. A few moments passed, then it seemed that his mind was made. "It would be best for the two of you to go with him.." Dale said, pointing out Cassian and Hawk.


    "..You too, Wyatt. I fear this place is no longer safe for all of you. The moment that when this madness quiets down, Lord Mikhael is sure to be forced to take action--if he''s not already doing something as we speak." he continued as Wyatt looked at him, defeated.


    The boy stood silent as the rest gathered what they could to prepare themselves. Hawk armed himself with a blue-colored bow and a quiver full of arrows as Cassian was already ready with a sword with gold carvings on the blade and hilt.


    "I''ve heard tales about your work, blacksmith, and I will admit that they are true," Xhiamas commented on Dale''s handiwork. "They''re beautiful and well-made. This would fetch a nice price on the market from where I hail from," he continued.


    "I thought you were..what do you call them..an Arrow?" Cassian said. "How would you know how trade and finance would work?" he asked him.


    "With what we do, you will experience and learn things you never thought you could do. Who knows? Maybe I am a better physician than you are, my friend." Xhiamas quipped as Hawk held Cassian back.


    "You''ll get used to him. For now, let''s focus on getting out of here alive first," Hawk said as they exited the house with the scout.  Wyatt stood unmoved in the same spot, confused and afraid of what might happen next.


    Is this what Godric felt when he ran for his life? He thought. A loud thud brought him back to his senses. He scanned the room and found his father uncovering a section of the stone wall, clutching a long, heavy item wrapped in a dusty white cloth.


    Wyatt watched his father unveil the item and reveal a majestic steel war hammer. It had two ends, the flat side looking heavy enough to dent any armor and bones. The other side had a spiked tip, one that had a crimson color to it, signifying that both the wielder and the victim had seen their share of violence. Finally, what stood out the most was a symbol etched onto the metal, just in the middle of both sides of the hammer.


    It was a war axe of foreign design. Wyatt stood mesmerized at the sight of his father wielding such a mighty weapon, handling it as if it were a mere extension of his body.


    "...What is this?" Wyatt finally asked his father. "This is a relic of my past. A ghost that I had buried. A memory I swore to have burned." Dale replied with a hint of regret in his voice. "Back when I was young, I lost everything except my talent. I was a broken monster of a man, and decided to forge this weapon out of pure hate."


    He continued as he seemingly fell into a deep gaze. "Pride, arrogance, recklessness--these things bring nothing but ruin. It was before the civil war had started. My parents were killed by strangers, and I was left alone--orphaned, with nothing but the Blackwood name and the forge." He explained to Wyatt.


    "I used this...thing in a pathetic reason to defend our people, but what I truly believed in was to use this to break down every soldier who stood in our way. I wanted them to suffer more than I had. I wanted to release every bit of anger that swelled inside me growing up." Wyatt stood frozen at his father''s words. The man he looked up to suddenly turned into someone completely different.


    "A critical moment came during the war when we were ambushed here in Rosetown. My comrades at the time were brave and heeded every command to keep everything in order, but I was the exception." the blacksmith said. "Due to my actions, we did indeed win the battle, but at the cost of countless lives," he continued, his voice almost breaking off.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Only a few souls remain alive to tell what truly happened that day, on why I vowed to never again be consumed by hatred. Apart from the death of my parents, this is one memory that is burned in the deepest pits of my mind." He continued.


    "What do you mean by that?" Wyatt asked, perplexed.


    "I never did tell you about your mother, didn''t I?" Dale responded in return.


    Wyatt stood in silence, for the boy was afraid of what his father might say next. "We met each other during the war when I was wounded in a skirmish. She found me, a broken-down mess of humanity. Despite my flaws and imperfections, she had nursed me back to life." the blacksmith said softly as if he were reminiscing fond memories.


    "Months went by, then you came along, son. My life had meaning again," he approached Wyatt with the weapon in tow. "When the town was attacked, you cried out. At that moment, I couldn''t bear to see the two precious things I had left, and so I did what needed to be done--I became the monster I once was." the blacksmith continued.


    "The town was ablaze. It was chaotic and brutal. It felt like you were experiencing the seventh hell on earth. I swung at everything I saw on that night. There was no possible way to distinguish friend or foe--at least, in my eyes, that was my excuse. What was important to me was that the two of you were safe." Dale recounted the unwanted memories.


    "The battle was almost over, and only a few able-bodied men were left standing, myself included," he said. "Our leader barked orders to stay in formation, but I lashed out at the enemy like a man possessed. This weapon does things to you, my boy." he stared at the war hammer.


    "Eventually, the battle ended, and my comrades stared at me in shock as I was able to take down three members of the royal guard, along with a dozen soldiers from the loyalist military. I did not leave unscathed though. Although countless blades had wounded me and left scars on my body, only one still aches to this day." Dale began to look at Wyatt as if he committed a grave sin.


    "Where are you leading with this?" Wyatt asked his father as he grabbed the blacksmith''s arm tightly.


    No words were exchanged, but the message was clear enough.


    Wyatt''s heart dropped to the floor. After all these years, he finally understood why his father never spoke about her or why he was sensitive about the topic being brought up. He loosened his grip on his father''s arm and took a step back. A cryptic silence fell between the two.


    "H-how did it happen...?" Godric asked asked.


    "It was after the final skirmish. The battle was already won and the rest of the enemy surrendered after the royal guards had died. However, they said I kept attacking and swinging at every person in sight like a man possessed--be it friend or foe." Dale said.


    "Your mother...she stepped in, hoping that she could stop my rampage, and she did, but..." His voice trailed off as he stared at the curved edge of the war hammer that was soaked in dried blood. Wyatt immediately understood what had happened.


    "They said I snapped back to my senses after the blow happened, and it seemed so as the next thing I remember was waking up with two men holding me back, and me, clutching your mother''s body in my arms," he sat down, staring at the cold stone floor.


    "Out of recklessness and frustration, I immediately took a blade and gashed my eye to blind myself for what I did that night as I knew I''d never find another blessing like her ever again--but I heard your cries, and I remembered." He looked at his son, who was still having a hard time accepting the story.


    "I kept one eye to remind myself that I still had one more gift worth living for. From that moment on, I vowed to the old gods and the Divines to never be consumed by hatred again." At this point, Wyatt was confused about what to think or feel.


    "Listen, I''m not asking for your forgiveness, son. I will also understand if you wish to never speak to me again after this. I''ve made my peace with the consequences a long time ago. The only thing I can offer you now is this, and an opportunity for a better life which Xhiamas can provide you with. I know he will take good care of you and your company." He then offered Wyatt the weapon.


    "But why would you pass this on to me?" He asked his father, angry and confused.


    "Because, son--this weapon, despite its'' history and use, holds the memory of both me and your mother." Dale turned the weapon around with minimal effort, showcasing his hidden strength. Found on the other side parallel to the carved sigil was a green gemstone with a unique pattern, embedded in the metal.


    "Somehow in some way, something found itself within this weapon and it lingers here still; something dark." Dale stared at the war hammer. "Yet, at times when I see your mother''s gemstone, my heart feels at peace. She gave this to me as a remembrance whenever I was away for battle. It calmed me down during the hard times and your mother''s last moments." He looked at the gemstone, sighing. "It has its risks, but I believe that this will help you somewhere along the road, as it has with me." He then gave the weapon to Wyatt, who hesitantly gripped the handle tightly.


    The hammer had a strange sensation to it. The iron handle was cold to the touch. The weight was excruciatingly heavy. It felt like the sum of metal and grief combined. Wyatt looked at the intricately designed weapon, and immediately, complex emotions consumed his mind. In that instant, he then knew what his father had meant.


    What is this? The young man thought. It feels as if I could take on the world. His senses sharpened, his heartbeat quickened, almost as if he had become another person; a violent one. However, he looked at the gemstone and was able to calm himself down. The bloodlust disappeared; his breathing steadied as he returned to his senses.


    The blacksmith looked at him, relieved. "I''m glad it works on you as well," he then turned his attention to the weapon. "This war hammer has a terrible power, but I believe it might prove useful. As for the gemstone...I believe it''s your mother''s way of looking after us. Harness its'' power, master it, and no one can ever harm you."


    Dale hugged his son tightly. "I wish it didn''t have to come to this. I wish we had more time together, but perhaps fate has other plans for you, son." Wyatt responded with a tighter hug after hearing those words from his father, who, for the first time in his life, was finally able to open up to him.


    "I''m in no position to forgive you for what you did to the people you killed, Father," Wyatt responded.


    "But what I can forgive you for, I do. I promise not to let you down." Wyatt continued, looking at his father, his eyes full of promise. "I know you won''t. Thank you. Now go before the soldiers reach this place." After hearing his father''s words, Wyatt said his goodbyes and headed outside to where the three were waiting for him.


    <hr>


    Xhiamas whistled as soon as he saw the weapon in Wyatt''s hands. "What a beauty. A family heirloom, I presume?" He asked Wyatt, who looked at him in silence and with a perplexed face. "I see. Perhaps at a later time then."


    The four of them huddled together after Cassian had returned, who was sent to scout the nearby areas for any sign of trouble.


    "So, what''s the plan Xhiamas?" Hawk asked, to which the rest of them followed suit. "Indeed. Where exactly are we going--provided we can get out of town?" Cassian followed up.


    "The plan is to meet up on the northern outskirts of House Polifio''s territory," Xhiamas explained.


    "From there, we will head east to one of our hideouts where we will store all the money and weaponry." He continued, inciting an angry response from Hawk. "Hold on--you''re not serious about keeping all the things you stole today, right? Your people already made a huge mess!" He shouted as he grabbed Xhiamas''s scarf.


    "What is it with people grabbing my clothing today?" The scout let out a laugh. "Rest easy. We are not that cruel, nor are we as evil as they claim us to be. We do not use the things that we steal for our good, Hawk," he continued. "Let''s just say, for now, that our connections run deeper than one might think." Hawk looked at him, doubtful, but eventually gave in. "Fine. I trust you. Are we all ready?" he asked the group, to which everyone nodded in agreement.


    Their plan to escape was cut short when shouting was heard in one corner, followed by immediate silence.


    "What''s going on?" Dale quickly stepped out of the house, wondering what had happened. "I don''t know good sir, but I''m afraid it is bad news," Xhiamas replied. "Hurry, let us go, immediately." he continued.


    "Wait, run to the western exit--now!" The group looked at the blacksmith, who had a look of dread on his face. "This sensation," he gripped his chest tight. "I''ve experienced this before." His fears turned to reality as suddenly, the ground quaked violently, and roots sprung out of the cobblestone paths and sprawled across all directions. The group dodged and rolled their way out of harm''s way, as Dale quickly grabbed a blade and hacked his way through the dense blockade of nature.


    "Right this way!" The blacksmith directed at the group, who quickly followed him without hesitation as a living forest continued to follow in pursuit. "What--in the seven hells--is this?!" Cassian shouted as they all ran for their lives, evading the living mass of roots inching closer and closer.


    "Nature magic!" Dale shouted over the chaos. "I never expected Lord Mikhael to break his vows just to use it to contain the chaos!"


    Hawk stared back in confusion at the terror that was chasing after them. "I have no idea what''s going on, but Divines, save us!" he cried out. "Shut up and run, idiot!"


    Cassian shot back. "The Divines aren''t gonna help us now, it''s gonna be your legs that are doing all the running!" They continued running until they were almost at the edge of the town, gasping for air but luckily a good distance away from danger.


    They were almost cleared for an escape, but Wyatt suddenly stumbled and dropped to the ground--the war hammer was weighing him down and taking a huge toll on the lad.


    "Wyatt!" Hawk looked back and immediately went back for him who still lay on the ground fatigued and seemingly out of breath. The rest followed suit and carried the lad back to safety.


    The young man was barely awake but attempted to take a look at what was happening. He faded in and out of consciousness. All he heard were voices from the group but could not make them out properly, and the rough handle of the punishing war hammer. When he came to, he turned his head back and saw that his father had separated himself from the group, standing his ground against nature itself, which was closing in on all of them at an even faster pace.


    "Father!" Wyatt shouted out in a strained voice. The blacksmith stood his ground and readied his blade against the oncoming roots. "Arrow!" Dale shouted out to Xhiamas. "Take care of them for me." He said as the roots closed all around him.


    Xhiamas responded with a quiet nod of respect. "I will do my best, sir blacksmith. You have my word!" He shouted back.


    The group was already far out of reach and sight, but Wyatt swore to himself that he saw his father smile before the roots and foliage swallowed his father whole, which prompted the mysterious magic to stop. The group halted for a quick moment to watch what happened in stunned silence.


    "Wyatt..." Cassian started to speak, but Xhiamas cut him off. "I''m sorry, but we should not stop moving. Who knows what comes after us next." This sent Cassian on edge, who pushed Xhiamas out of anger. "By the Divines--pity the lad! He just lost his father!" He screamed at Xhiamas. Hawk stepped in an attempt to intervene, but Wyatt cut them off first.


    "Xhiamas is right. Now''s not the time to be standing still," he said as he tried to get his bearings. Wyatt looked at the scout with a determined look as Cassian helped him stand. "After what happened today, more questions were made rather than answered. I believe that there''s a lot more happening than what meets the eye, and I also believe, that you have the answers, don''t you?" He asked the foreigner.


    Xhiamas looked at the boy and nodded. "I do indeed, my friend. Your father asked something from me, and I will honor that request as best I can," he turned to the rest of the group. "Trust in me, and all your answers will be answered." He continued, with Wyatt sensing the sincerity in his voice.


    The three looked at each other and nodded in agreement. The scout bowed his head in response. "Thank you. Now, let us be off. I''m afraid we will have to make a long detour as things did not go the way I planned them to. Onwards, to the west, we go." He said to the group as they began to walk in silence, their faith placed firmly in Xhiamas'' hands, with the wind blowing quietly in the night.

 Ch. 5 - Mana

    The sound of wood and fighting rang throughout the dimly lit chamber. It was already nighttime outside the hidden kingdom of the elves. Days and nights had passed since Godric arrived in the elven realm, but for him, time moved differently as if he were drowning in the sand. They welcomed and treated the mortal as a guest but something weighed heavily deep inside, unknown even to him.


    The twins held to their promise in preparing him for his task. The training they gave him was brutal. Anar¨®r? held nothing back in their sparring sessions, with the she-elf beating him senseless, only for l¨®m? to nurse him back to health.


    Her twin also trained him in his own way. l¨®m? sensed nothing but weakness in his mind. Fear, doubt, regret. Such thoughts hindered Godric, and the elf decided to condition him on how to use them to his advantage. The twins had agreed on alternating the training depending on the day, with Anar¨®r? handling physical training and combat and l¨®m? managing mental fortitude. As one twin trained him, the other would observe.


    On this day, it was combat training, and Anar¨®r? was as relentless as ever.


    "Too slow!" she shouted over Godric''s attempts to hit her with a wooden staff. The she-elf weaved and dodged his attacks effortlessly. Godric described her movement as being similar to dancing. He had already spent a considerable amount of time training in an attempt to reach her level, but it always seemed like the elf was one step ahead.


    "How are you even able to dodge everything?" Godric said, wheezing as he attempted a swift overhead swing, which Anar¨®r? easily caught with her hand.


    "It''s simple. I call it experience. Something you still clearly lack," Anar¨®r? replied. "You are still hesitant when it comes to striking--that factor alone makes you easy to predict...and open to attacks." She continued and effortlessly dropped Godric after a leg sweep, picking his weapon in quick succession and pointing it at him.


    "And now, you''re dead. Again." Anar¨®r? looked at Godric, disappointed. She turned to l¨®m? seated at the corner, laughing at the remark. "The session is over. Tend to him, would you?" She asked her twin. "Of course, sister," l¨®m? stood and approached the two, helping Godric to his feet. "Come now, Godric," he said. "Let us heal your wounds."


    The trio headed into the main chamber, with Anar¨®r? splitting off as she was called over by her companions and had other business to take care of. This left Godric and l¨®m? to walk toward Godric''s quarters, with one druid and a dryad inside, waiting for the prince''s word. l¨®m? spoke to them in elvish, and the dryad headed off while the druid sat down to help the prince heal Godric.


    "You took quite a thrashing today, my friend," the prince said. "Do not feel bad about it, though. My sister was always the talented one when it came to hand-to-hand combat." He continued as he treated Godric''s bruises found all around his body. The boy winced at the pain. He experienced this discomfort every other day and thought he would get used to it eventually, and yet somehow, Anar¨®r? would find a way to make him hurt even more.


    "How does she do that though?" Godric asked. "Do what? Find new forms of inflicting pain?" l¨®m? replied. "I have my talents, and my sister has her own." He continued as he and the druid let out a laugh.


    "The prince and princess are two sides of the same coin," the druid said, smirking. "They are complete opposites, yet they are also the same. It will come as no surprise that if the princess is talented in one aspect, our prince would also have his gifts." The druid continued.


    "Your words flatter me, old one, but I still have a long road ahead of me if I am to become what our people say I am." l¨®m? replied. "I wish your twin was more like you, l¨®m?," Godric said to the prince."If so, then it wouldn''t have to be this way--you know, with her wanting to kill me every other day." The elf couldn''t help but laugh after hearing Godric''s words.


    "Do not let her catch you hearing that," he replied. "It is also a good thing that she is what she is. We balance each other. You say that now, but there are moments where she becomes more reasonable than I am. I am not as innocent as you think I am, Godric. I too, have another side of me you''ve yet to see." Godric looked at him and remembered what he had done in the royal hall.


    "That reminds me--that thing you did back then when everyone almost wanted to kill me. What was that?" The boy asked, curious about the elf''s response. "Oh, you do not know of that?" l¨®m? responded in return with a look of surprise.


    "Dear me...what has happened to the race of Men? Have you forgotten your strength? Your power?" The druid asked. Godric replied by moving his head from left to right, which resulted in the druid letting out a surprised look.


    "What has happened, I wonder? I think it might be best to teach this mortal about the old ways, my prince," the druid advised l¨®m?. "From what I''ve heard, his trial is something that we elves are all too familiar with." He looked at the prince, concerned.


    "...I will see to it. Thank you for sharing this with us, old one." l¨®m? replied, thankful, yet shaken. The druid replied with a bow and quietly left the room.


    A few hours passed, and Godric stood up and stretched, all healed. "Your feats are truly amazing!" He remarked. "They are indeed; however, they are mainly exclusive to our House, and only a few rare individuals can match it. I''m surprised you did not know of this, Godric. You were very quiet when I mentioned it during our first encounter, and you never brought up the topic after I displayed a fraction of it back then in the hall." The elf prince said to him.


    They then continued to travel to a different portion of the main chamber, leading to a door blocked by species of flowers and varying types of tree roots.


    "Ngol-amanya." l¨®m? said in an intricate, and mystical tone. The nature surrounding the door began to move and open up an entryway which led to an open doorway that was bathed in a strange, shimmering glow. Godric stepped back, afraid he might enter another trap again, but l¨®m? quickly reassured him. "Not to worry," the elf said. "Here, let me enter first." He then passed through the doorway, and suddenly, his body slowly disappeared, similar to how he first unveiled himself to Godric.


    He steadied himself and entered the doorway which transported him to a room littered with books, scrolls, and all sorts of records. A library. He thought. Finally, something I''m somewhat familiar with. The young man followed the elf prince towards a section of the room, where the prince rummaged through texts, and scrolls and placed them on a table.


    "Come, sit." l¨®m? gestured for Godric to sit opposite him. "What''s all this?" He asked. "This is a collection of knowledge that helped me back when I first wanted to understand the ways of this world." The elf replied. "It helped me, and I believe it will prove beneficial to you." He then picked up a scroll and laid it out on the table.


    "Now, to answer your question on what I used back then," l¨®m? began to explain. "In our tongue, we call it lind?a, but in yours, it is what you refer to as mana." He said.


    Godric looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a confused face. "Mana? Am I supposed to know what that is?" The elf looked at him in response, dumbfounded.


    "You know of the existence of beasts, elves, and dwarves, yet you do not know of mana?" He asked. Godric responded in return with a blank stare. "It seems that we will be here longer than expected. Luckily, we have the entire night along with tomorrow to finish everything. Hopefully." The elf prince sighed.


    The boy was surprised at what the elven prince had said. "Woah--are you serious? All of this, in less than a night and a day?" he continued. "Not necessarily," l¨®m? replied. "It took me thirty years to fully understand and absorb every record in this library, but in your case, an introduction will do." Godric looked at the collection in front of him. "This is what you call an introduction?" he replied while looking at the foreign writings and symbols in front of him.


    "Yes," the elf replied with a blank stare. "Now, let us begin."


    l¨®m? waved his hand over the writings, and the foreign language moved and shook to the point where Godric could understand what was written. "This is our mother tongue," Godric said, amazed by what he was witnessing. "I made some adjustments and decided to decipher it in the one you were most familiar with." l¨®m? replied. "To start Godric, I do have to remind you that what you are about to hear now will most likely change the way you view the world, prepare yourself." the elf warned him, to which the boy replied with a quiet, but enthusiastic nod.


    "Good. Now, Primera, our home, is a place full of mystery. Even we elves are subject to questions regarding the land itself. Since the dawn of creation, the essence of life which we call mana, has coursed throughout the world, but nowhere else in the known lands has it been concentrated to its purest form, other than here." The elven prince explained as Godric looked on. "As such, life has adjusted to it, giving birth to all sorts of beings. It flows within our blood, and every being is given access to use this gift according to their will." he continued.


    "The first elves acquired the needed knowledge and understanding to use mana. We then passed this on to the other races, such as the mermen, the dwarves, and the race of men. What we did not expect until later was that your race--was more compatible in using mana than the others, even ours." l¨®m? picked up a book and opened a page that contained a detailed illustration of men in combat. The sketch was gruesome and realistic, yet beautiful to the point where Godric felt like he was there. Horrifyingly immaculate, He thought.


    "Our earlier understanding of mana was wrong," the elf continued. "It can be used to create magic, which can be controlled and used in many ways. However, we who were blessed with long lives were blinded by our gifts. It is because for magic to be learned quickly and efficiently utilized, one must fully understand their mortality as death widens their perspective of life. It is said that the rush of impending doom awakens something within oneself, and who else has more experience in this phenomenon than the race of Men?" He looked at Godric. "Your kind has been known to wage battle after battle against one another, all for the sake of riches, land, and meaningless death. In the eyes of other races, war is only seen as a last resort." The boy could only try and avoid looking at l¨®m? in the eyes as he knew the truth in his words.


    "Countless wars have consumed the realms of Men. This caused your race to grow in power over the last three ages, starting with the King of the First Men, Unrel Wolfsbane, who shaped Primera into what it is now," l¨®m? said as he opened another tome.


    "Each House also has a specific foundation of magic. House Alastrassa is a special case, as we were blessed with two: the foundation of Illusion and Restoration. However, being special does not mean we are the most powerful. We have had many contenders in terms of power over the years--a good number of them even came from your race. In modern times, only the Royal Guard themselves can match the full force of all three elven domains." He continued.


    "With that being said, House Ilyn has done a remarkable job keeping such power intact through the use of the Codex. My sister and I were still young when it was created, and even now we stand in awe. I cannot even begin to understand how a relic was made." Godric looked at another page with a sketch of the artifact; a giant tome of ancient design. In the center was an amulet filled with different shades of color, which caught his attention.


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    "What happens if we break the rules found within?" Godric asked. "Well, it depends on what rule you broke. The simpler the rule, the lighter the consequence." l¨®m? replied. "There is also what we call sacred vows in which a rule was imposed by utilizing mana," he continued. "They are rare in nature, and can only be made through a vessel or an enchanted relic, such as the Codex. Breaking the terms of a sacred vow will result in dire consequences, but each one is unique, therefore not all punishments will come in the same form." Godric pondered at the idea and turned to the elf.


    "How many are there?" Godric asked, curious.


    "Sacred vows? From what I know, there are only five vows in the Codex. Many others might exist in distant lands, but I''ve yet to discover them. I''ve also heard fables of sacred vows being manifested in living--" the elf prince quickly stopped speaking.


    Godric noticed the shift in behavior. "l¨®m??" He looked at the prince, concerned. "Are you okay?" l¨®m? responded by fixing his posture.


    "It''s nothing. Let''s continue onto a different topic, shall we?" The prince smiled at the boy. Godric obliged, but he knew a fake smile once he saw one. After all, it was something he was all too familiar with.


    "Now, as I''ve said earlier, mana can be applied in various methods. For our house, we use restoration and illusion magic. I used illusion magic during the throne room. May I ask, you felt like your senses were...diluted, did you?" Godric replied with a nod, vividly remembering what had happened.


    "It goes the same for the rest of those who were present. However, from my perspective and for the ones capable of shielding themselves from such magic, you merely stood still and quiet as if you were sculptures." This left Godric both amazed and shocked at the idea.


    Is this real? Godric thought to himself. To think there was such power in the world. The elf''s words had somewhat left the young man at a loss for words.


    l¨®m? looked at him and quickly understood what Godric had felt. "I know this might be too much for you to understand." the prince said. "You are confused, lost, scared--even," he sensed Godric''s conflicted emotions. "Each of us has the right to use these gifts. Not to worry as I will teach you how to harness this power. Wield it as you wish. You have my word."


    Godric looked at the elf with doubt. Doubt that was not directed towards the prince, but to himself; as he believed it to be impossible that he would be able to learn all of this in such a short amount of time. Nevertheless, he realized that he was far too deep in already into this madness. He needed all the help that he could get and replied to l¨®m? with a nod of gratefulness. "All right, where do we start?" Godric asked the elven prince.


    The two spent half the night continuing to study the basics, with Godric slowly picking up and understanding how mana worked; how it could be manipulated into related forms, and the dangers it possessed when used. In the middle of the night, they carried a few things and planned to transfer to another room that l¨®m? told Godric to be his favorite one when he was still a youngling. "You might have noticed a few differences between me and Anar¨®r?," the prince spoke to Godric as they walked.


    "Not only is she physically gifted, but our druids foresee that she has the potential to surpass even my father in that aspect." He continued.


    "That''s amazing, but what about you?" Godric asked. "In my case, I was always subpar when it came to physical combat," l¨®m? replied, sighing. "However, what I lack in strength, I make up with a natural affinity for mana." He explained.


    "My father is one of the firstborn and boasts a large quantity of mana. It took a few centuries of his life to reach full mastery over magic. In my case, I was noted to be a prodigy. I learned faster than him, despite our gap in age and experience." Godric looked on, amazed as they were nearing their destination.


    "I know most of the forms of illusion and restoration magic that he does, but I still require more training in polishing my skill, as evidenced in the throne room. If it was him casting such a spell instead of me, all of us would be under the effects." Godric was impressed at what the elf had said, now seeing the true gap between the father and his son. He then recalled his first encounter with the king.


    "I felt like, he had this...pressure around him. I wasn''t even looking at him yet, but I could feel a heavy presence in the room," he described the events. "Every time he spoke, I felt like I was under the force of a raging river. His stare pierced through me. I could feel him reading my mind and emotions effortlessly." l¨®m? looked at the boy. "It is because he has achieved the highest peak of mana control. In my lifetime, excluding the ones hiding their presence, I have only known less than twenty individuals who can utilize this form. When used outside our domain, it attracts unwanted attention. This is why Father only utilizes the form here," he explained as Godric listened intently.


    "...Are you able to do it?" The boy asked. "You flatter me too much, my friend." l¨®m? replied, smiling.


    "We''re here." the two stopped in front of an entranceway that led to a wide, open room. "What, no magical doors or secret passages this time?" l¨®m? laughed at the remark. "We like to keep some things simple sometimes too, you know." He quipped.


    They entered, and just mere moments later, Godric could feel the shift in the air around him. He suddenly felt heavy. His breathing tightened, and his eyesight began to blur. A few seconds passed, and the boy found himself on his knees, desperately grabbing a hold of himself. "Calm yourself, Godric," the elf said as he looked at him with a blank stare. "We are in the Room of Ascendancy. The natural concentration of mana tests all who enter this room, and it all starts with what you are experiencing now." Godric lay on the floor in agony, clutching his heart as it began to ache as well.


    "Do not reject it, Godric," l¨®m? continued. "Paint a picture of mana flowing through you. Direct where it will go. Where the mana goes, do not reject it." Godric had difficulty understanding what he had meant but tried regardless. He closed his eyes and attempted to create his depiction of mana. Water. Godric immediately thought. Crystal clear water. He then imagined the flow of blood, merging the two. For some reason, Godric envisioned the water to have a bluish hue after merging. He went along with the imagery and started to imagine mana flowing outwards from his chest, traveling throughout his body.


    Moments passed, and the pain finally subsided. The boy was eventually able to stand using his strength. l¨®m? looked at him, proud. "Good," the prince said. "You passed. I never doubted you for a second." He continued.


    "That sensation...what was that?" Godric asked him. "That was a test of how well your mana control is," the elf replied. "This was a room created by my father to test one''s affinity with mana--by forcefully awakening it. Individuals who failed have shown to still have access to mana, but struggle when using it. You, my friend, passed with minimal effort."


    "Minimal effort? I was barely able to pass, let alone breathe at the time," Godric told the elf. "Yes, and those who were recorded to pass the test suffered for ages before they succeeded." l¨®m? quickly replied. "Most of my kind had varied results when tested, with the lone exception of me," he continued. "When I entered the room, I felt nothing but a slight tingle in my hand. I felt disappointed, but the druids were left astounded."


    Godric looked at him in disbelief. Ever since he arrived in Mistveil Forest, he had held the elven prince in high regard. He took him in as a friend, a student, and now, he stood in awe at his potential.


    "However, Godric, I have a feeling you might turn out to be better than me in this aspect." The elf said. This caught Godric off guard.


    "Me?" He asked. "That''s impossible. How?" The prince smiled at the boy''s naivety. "Earlier on, you displayed a level of adaptability I''ve never seen before. Your body was quick to adjust to the mana that was awakened, even for a mortal. I have a few theories on how this happened but let us focus on the fact that it took you only less than ten minutes to control it."


    "So...what does that have to do with anything?" The boy asked the elf. "High adaptability to mana is important, as using it in your foundation''s most basic form, along with its branches requires different methods of image projection." l¨®m? replied as he began to conjure an illusory image out of thin air which depicted a flowing stream of liquid, similar to what Godric had imagined earlier to pass the test.


    "In restoration magic, we project our mana to flow outwards from our core and toward the damaged area, of which we then project our mana to showcase a green hue." The illusion followed suit as to what the elf had said.


    "When healing others, we simply do the same but picture an image where we allow the mana to slowly flow out of our bodies, and into those who were wounded. Restoration is a taxing form of magic, but we elves have no need to worry about the repercussions as we were blessed with naturally long lifespans." He continued.


    "Hold on--mana and life are connected?" Godric asked him, taken aback. "Yes, and they are more interconnected than you might think," l¨®m? replied. "Using mana is like using a double-edged sword; become too reckless, and you will get hurt in the process. The more mana you consume, the more your health is strained. However, as your mana is restored, your health is restored as well--similar to how wounds heal, so does the mana. This is why restoration comes naturally to our kind for we are blessed with immortality, whereas for mortals such as you it is a dangerous form of magic, so I advise against using it casually unless you have a relic that can aid in the process." The elf warned Godric.


    Godric nodded to reassure the prince that he understood the danger. "Thank you. I''ll keep that in mind. Now, what foundation of magic do I have?" He asked the elf, excited as l¨®m? was taken aback.


    "If I were to be completely honest, I have no idea my friend." He replied.


    "What do you mean by you don''t have any idea?" The boy asked. "I thought you were all-knowing--I mean, you taught me all of this so far, so why don''t you know what form of magic I have?".


    "It is hard to explain," the elf replied. "You see, forms of magic depend on who the user is as an individual. Not all elves are as effective when it comes to using restoration and illusion magic--this aspect of ours is mainly because of my father''s lineage and influence over the realm." The elf continued. "The same goes for me, and for the others, I presume."


    "So what now?" Godric asked, disappointed. "It seems pretty useless knowing that you know how to control mana, but not how to use it." He said while looking around the room for an answer.


    "You go and find yourself." l¨®m? replied. "What do you mean by that?" The boy replied, curious at the elf''s remark.


    "Do not take this as a disadvantage Godric. You were blessed with something far greater than you might imagine. Unlike us, whose magic was molded since birth, you were awakened with an empty slate. You have yet to discover who you are. The canvas is yours--experience things and paint your picture. The possibilities for you are endless." The prince kindly explained, whose words gave Godric a different perspective regarding his situation.


    "Thank you again, l¨®m?." The boy replied in response to the elf.


    "The pleasure is all mine. Now, where should we begin?" l¨®m? asked. However, before they could continue, a figure appeared in the doorway. It was Anar¨®r?, all dressed in her elven armor, her bow shining as if being bathed in moonlight. She stood, staring quietly at them.


    "That was good, dear sister. How long have you been observing us?" The elf asked his twin.


    "Long enough, brother. I''m afraid to break this to you and disrupt your session, but Father calls for us," Anar¨®r? replied. "The council has ended, and the trial has been chosen. Father wants a word with the mortal." She continued as she turned and disappeared.


    The prince let out a sigh. "Still as cold-hearted as ever," he said. "Come, let us go and discover what the council has planned for you."


    The two then began to walk out of the room. l¨®m? was the first to leave, but before Godric stepped out, he swore he saw the room swiftly changing in color--from a white and calm hue to a dark and unnerving one. He stopped to check if his eyes were playing tricks on him but he eventually brushed it off as a freak occurrence and followed the prince to where the elven king was waiting for them.

 Ch. 6 -- Irony

    Godric and l¨®m? walked silently toward the great hall, their steps echoing throughout the magical pathway. The chamber usually bustled with activity regardless of the time, but tonight, it was eerily quiet except for the chirping of birds and the rustling within the trees and bushes.


    In the silence, the boy spent his time pondering what his trial would be. By his judgment, it was already two fortnights and a half since he first entered Mistveil Forest. Since then, he had been living under the hospitality of the elves. He ate alongside them, learned their culture, and was trained and looked after by only the best his hosts had to offer. There was a lingering thought in his mind that hopefully, all the borrowed time generously provided by his hosts would not be in vain. The boy was so lost in thought that he didn''t notice that he had already outpaced the elven prince.


    "Godric," l¨®m? called out to him, stopping the boy in his tracks. "Something seems to be bothering you." Godric turned to the beauty of the forested chamber and focused his attention on the noises of nature in an attempt to distract himself from his doubts.


    "Yes, there is. You''ve dedicated your time and been so kind to me, all of you. I''m simply afraid of failure."


    l¨®m? scoffed at the idea and closed the distance. "Nonsense. I''ve seen your progress during your time spent here. I believe in you. The others have faith in you. Anar¨®r?, who despite her cold demeanor, believes that you can do it as well." Godric doubted the last part of the prince''s words but was grateful to know that some supported him.


    "Thanks, l¨®m?," Godric replied sincerely as he turned to the prince. "Your kindness and hospitality are greatly appreciated. I want you to know that no matter the result of this trial, I am glad to have met you." He then extended his hand, which the prince accepted and shook without hesitation.


    "You are welcome, friend. Now come, they are expecting us." l¨®m? looked past Godric to which two soldiers were waiting for them already.


    "My prince," one of the soldiers greeted the two. "My king Ithilien and the council are awaiting both of you inside." They then swung open the huge, intricately designed doors of the great hall to reveal the king seated on his wooden throne, surrounded by four individuals dressed in different colored robes, two on each side along with Anar¨®r?, who was posted at one of the solid, stone pillars that held the hall up.


    The boy and the elven prince walked toward the great wooden throne, their steps echoing throughout the hall. Godric looked at the individuals and felt immense pressure from all four of them. Druids? Godric thought to himself as he looked at the supposed council. No, they''re something different. Their presence was strong and paled compared to the elven king''s, but something was off.


    Godric could feel their eyes focused on him and noticed the king had raised his eyebrow after a tense observation.


    "You''ve improved, and in such a short time too. Well done." Ithilien complimented the boy. "Normally, it takes a few seasons of training to polish one''s control over mana, but it seems to come naturally to you. Curious." the strange council members spoke to each other in hushed whispers after hearing the king''s words.


    Godric didn''t know whether to feel happy or concerned with the statement, especially after hearing the last word and the murmurs between the council.


    "I thank you, my children, for preparing him during his stay here. However, the time has come and the council has spoken. Godric, step forward." the elven king commanded Godric, to which the boy stepped forward.


    "My king Ithilien," Godric knelt on one knee and began to speak his thoughts out loud. "Several moons have already passed since your great house became host to an outcast like me. And yet you''ve only shown nothing but kindness and service which I find myself not worthy to receive," he continued as the twins looked on. "I''ve learned many things and I want to prove not only to myself but also to all who''ve helped me, that I''m worthy of the gift of life you have provided." He concluded.


    The king let out a smile. "You continue to surprise me mortal," Ithilien said. "Let him know of his fate." He turned towards the council. The four of them looked at each other, nodded in agreement, and then set their gaze on the boy.


    "Godric of Rosetown." The four individuals spoke in unison in a powerful manner that rendered Godric unable to move. As expected, both the king and l¨®m? were unaffected, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Anar¨®r? struggling for a moment. The boy strained and quickly focused his mana to regain control of his bodily movements, but was left helpless.


    "You are found guilty of trespassing on hallowed ground." Two voices stood out from the four. "You are also found guilty of desecration." The other two voices continued. "The old gods have deemed to give you a second chance. Retrieve the tears of the crescent moon for House Alastrassa. Accomplish this task, and your sins will be absolved, mortal." They spoke in unison.


    Godric looked on as the four beings began to change their appearance. The boy thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but their bodies appeared transparent by then. Eventually, the once, solid figures turned into floating, circular spirits. Wisps. Godric remembered l¨®m? introducing them to him back in one of their sessions. No, these are no mere wisps. They circled him and shone in a colorful light. Godric was blinded because of the spectacle. Not long after, he regained his vision and could move again, noticing the king and the twins had already surrounded him.


    "I suspected as much," Anar¨®r? said as he helped Godric up. "In another way, they''re giving you a death sentence." she continued as the boy was starting to get his bearings. "Tears of the crescent moon?" Godric asked the elves present as he shook off the effects of being paralyzed. What on earth does that even mean? He thought to himself.


    "The tears of the Crescent Moon is our House''s sacred relic," King Ithilien stepped in to explain. "It was lost centuries ago, back when my children were still very young." He continued as the trio looked on.


    "They have no memory of what happened, and I shall spare you all the unnecessary details. All you need to know is that it is an important figure and also serves as a treasure to our House. However, it is being held by a foul creature, whose name I shall not speak in these halls." The king''s demeanor changed near the end. Godric noticed that subtle shift in tone and immediately knew that this trial of his was personal, not just for him, but also for the king himself.


    "...Understood," Godric replied in a respectful tone. As much as he wanted to know more, he felt it would be wise not to push his luck. "Give me time to prepare my things. I also need information on where I''ll be going and an idea of what I''ll be facing." Ithilien nodded in agreement. "I shall personally see to it that you''re well prepared. Anar¨®r? will inform and help prepare you for what lies ahead. l¨®m?, I would like to discuss something with you."


    The twins nodded in agreement and proceeded to follow their Father''s request. Anar¨®r? and Godric stepped out of the great hall, while l¨®m? and King Ithilien stared at the mortal as he walked out, their piercing gaze making the hairs on Godric''s arm stand.


    "Where are we off to now?" Godric asked the elf as they strolled through the pathway.


    "The forge. We must find something to help you survive this ordeal, or at least keep you alive longer than we expected." Her words were brutal and hurt like a stab to the heart, but Godric noticed no malice in her tone. In that instance, he thought that maybe what l¨®m? said was right.


    <hr>


    The two maintained an awkward silence and traversed a good distance from the great hall before arriving in an elven forge found deep within the trees of the great chamber. It looked similar to human forges, but the weapons, armor, and tools were crafted with precision and beauty, pointing out the difference in talent and quality from your average smithy. The forge was adorned with a large crimson tree that Godric was unfamiliar with, and the sound of steel rang as they approached.


    "Elmar!" Anar¨®r? cried out. "You have a visitor." The noises stopped as the large tree rustled. Afterward, an elf leaped outwards from an opening and used the descending branches as footholds to head toward where the two were standing.


    "You must be the mortal," the individual pointed to Godric with a pair of tongs. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance. My name is Elmar, and I am the forge master of Mistveil Forest." The elf wore a stained blacksmith''s apron had a slightly larger frame and was more toned than his kind. He towered over Anar¨®r?, who was already a few inches taller than Godric. Despite his size and the recent display he put on to greet them, he hardly broke a sweat and his breath was steady.


    "I take it the council has decided on his trial?" he asked Anar¨®r?, who nodded in response. "Since you''re here, I presume you''re in for something big. Not to worry, I have all the equipment you need right here," the elf turned towards a stone shed. "Give me a few minutes to prepare them for you." He then quickly moved at a speed that Godric found surprising for an individual of his size.


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    The duo sat on two intertwined tree trunks so close to each other that they somewhat formed a makeshift bench and waited for Elmar to return. Not even a quarter of a minute had passed, and Godric could feel Anar¨®r? was already eager to get this entire thing over with. Desperate for an answer, he stood up and faced the elf.


    "Look, I get it--you hate me, and I am sorry for what happened at the glade," Anar¨®r? raised an eyebrow after looking Godric in the eyes. "But at least give me a chance to make up for it. l¨®m? and your father seem to have looked past it for now, so why can''t you?" she sighed at his question as she plucked a single flower that had grown near the tree trunk. "You wouldn''t understand anyway, so there''s no point explaining myself," she replied. Her voice and demeanor were cold, but Godric had already gotten used to it.


    It was quiet for a moment, but eventually, Godric spoke up to break the silence. "Fine then. What do I have to do to at least make up for it, seeing as you won''t even try and talk to me?" the elf stared at him and thought about it for a moment.


    "Try and get past this trial of yours, and I might give you an answer." She then gazed back at the flower in her hand.


    That was enough for Godric. Well, this is better than nothing I guess. He thought to himself.


    Right on cue, Elmar had returned to the forge, towing a selection of armor and weapons behind him. He knelt and then whispered to the ground a few words, which then caused a long wooden table to sprout from out of the ground.


    "Here we are," he stopped in front of Godric and proudly presented his handicrafts after placing them on the table. "Only the finest elvish weapons and armor. Please feel free to choose whatever you like."


    <hr>


    They then went on for a good amount of time in choosing what Godric would use for the trial. "Elmar, suit him with light armor. For a mortal, he is surprisingly quick on his feet. Mobility will suit him better."Anar¨®r? provided a few words of insight and suggestions based on the combat training. Godric looked at her, surprised.


    "Was that a compliment?" He asked with a wry smirk. "Be quiet." The elf responded, annoyed.


    Elmar proceeded to one side of the table and picked up a set of elvish armor, fashioned with the shining scales of a creature Godric did not know of. "Here, try this on." The blacksmith assisted Godric and within a matter of minutes he was fully armored, and it was the perfect fit, no less.


    "I thought it would be heavier," Godric pointed out to Elmar. "With the scales and all. What creature are these from, anyway?" He asked as he fiddled with the armor.


    "Ice drakes," Elmar replied as he stopped to admire the armor. "Beautiful, aren''t they? These are hard to come by these days, considering their kind are only native to Primera''s northern regions, beyond the icy terrain, over and above the Echoing Mountains. If memory serves me correctly, these scales were brought back by King Ithielien after a visit to Dorfaldihr, a dwarf fortress boasting the most incredible defensive features, up in the north." He recounted.


    Godric then looked at Elmar. "Uhh...I mean no offense," he started with a shaky tone, gaining the elf''s attention. "But will this armor be enough?" He asked.


    Before Elmar could answer, out of nowhere, an arrow quickly flew between the two, separating them and hitting Godric square in the chest area, right where his heart would be. The arrow, however, was stuck to the armor, easily blocking the pointed edge from piercing Godric. He lay flat on the ground and the two of them looked at Anar¨®r?, who had her bow in hand.


    "I guess that answers your question." She then turned to the blacksmith, who was also sweating from what he had seen. "Good work, Elmar. I expected nothing less from our forge master. Let''s move on to your weapon now, shall we?" She returned and sat back on the tree trunk as if nothing had happened.


    "Well then..." Elmar let out a nervous grunt. "Let''s go on with your weapon. Pick your poison, don''t be shy." He continued as he looked at Anar¨®r?, bewildered by what happened.


    Godric and the elf then spent a lengthy amount of time selecting his weapon, as Godric himself was unsure of what he should choose. During combat training, he was taught to use almost all the basic weapons available, ranging from a sword, a staff, a polearm, and even daggers, which resulted in little success. He could not tell if it was because of Anar¨®r?''s combat experience, but all the weapons he saw seemed mediocre in his hands.


    He looked at Anar¨®r?, who admired the flower she plucked earlier. "Got any suggestions for me?" He wanted her opinion on the matter, seeing as she was responsible for his combat training.


    "Your weapon? Truthfully, I cannot provide any suggestions," she sighed. "I''ve already trained you with all the basic weapons. You can easily choose from any that are here in front of you, but your hesitance to take action hinders your progress and overall performance." The elf explained with a tone of disappointment as she looked up to the ceiling of the chamber, which provided them a view of the world outside the forest''s magical veil.


    "We''ve consumed too much time. Choose a weapon within an hour and meet me at the training grounds. We shall conduct our final sparring session. I will not hold back this time." She turned and began to walk and disappeared out of their sight.


    "I wanted to ask something," Elmar whispered to Godric. "Why do I feel like the princess wants to kill you?" He looked at him dead in the eye. "I don''t even know myself," he replied, scratching his head. "Well, if she says so, then can pick anything. Any one of these would be okay, right?" Godric asked as he began to pick up a polearm.


    "If you want my opinion, perhaps it is not the weapon that''s the problem here," Elmar replied as he leaned back on the stone wall of the forge. "She keeps on saying that you are hesitant. If I had to guess, is it because of something that had happened?" As if it was lightning, Godric quickly remembered the first time he took a life. A memory of Walter flashed in his mind, and Elmar knew his guess was right.


    "I see. Something is bothering you. Come now, tell me the story--but make it quick. You only have an hour left."


    The boy then went on and quickly narrated to Elmar his story before he ventured into the forest. The elf listened intently to every word, and never let Godric feel guilty or ashamed. Moments later, Godric finished his story and Elmar sat down to gather his thoughts.


    "It is not easy to take a life Godric. I know that feeling as well, but you were not in the wrong at that time. You were acting out of self-defense." Elmar stood up and walked to the table where the weapons were. "I know Anar¨®r?. She may not admit it but she considers you as a formidable force, brimming with potential. If you can move past this trauma of yours, then maybe you might have a chance of getting out of this alive." The elf then walked inside the forge, leaving Godric to himself.


    "But how can I, Elmar?" Godric sounded defeated.


    A cluttered, metal sound rang out of the forge. He looked up and saw Elmar looking at something in front of him. He followed his gaze, and his eyes widened. There lay in the pathway, was a bloodied sickle that Godric brought along with him.


    "How...how did you come by this?" Godric asked as he thought the weapon was disposed of or was lost as he fell asleep.


    "The guardians of the glade who found you brought it here for me to dispose of. I was planning on melting it, and reusing the metal but thought of nothing to create of it, so I left it there instead. It looks like I now have an idea after all." said the elf, smiling. "I now have the perfect weapon, or may I say...weapons, for you." He headed inside again and soon after, brought out a pair of curved blades.


    Elmar provided a demonstration of what the swords could do. He lunged forward towards a positioned pile of wood that Godric assumed was being used for situations such as this. The elf stabbed forward, and the edges cut through the wood with ease. Continuing, he slashed the target using the outward side of the swords, which were also as sharp as the edges themselves, leaving clean marks on the area.


    Godric stood in silence at the craftsmanship. The blades were curved but retained the sharpness and durability of any other weapon. Elmar looked back at Godric and smirked. He then crossed the two blades together, where the inward portion of the curved edge met one another, and in one swift motion, had decapitated the upper portion of the pile of wood. The elf then turned to Godric, who stood speechless at the performance.


    "This will be your weapons. How do you like them?" He asked, handing the blades over.


    "...I don''t know what to say," Godric replied, somewhat speechless. "The way you demonstrated how to use these things; it was as if you were Death itself." Staring at the weapons, his hands shook with uncertainty. "Why wasn''t this included when you brought out the weapons?" He asked Elmar.


    "It is because they are an imperfect creation," Elmar answered, one that caught Godric off-guard. "They are a twin set of swords. They cannot be sheathed because of the irregular shape, and the sharpness of both edges poses a risk to the user. Elvish swordsmanship requires an evenly balanced combination of defense and offense, and this one unfortunately favors recklessness." he let out a disappointed sigh as Godric studied them even further.


    "...Do they have a name?" he asked. "Yes, they do. I call them Death''s Lament. For if this weapon ever sees combat, even Death itself would pray for the poor souls." Elmar replied as he looked at the swords. "They''re not my best work, but they''ll suit you nicely." He patted Godric on the shoulder as he walked past him.


    "Hold on--I believe we''ve come to a conclusion that I hesitate when fighting, right? With all due respect, how is this going to help me?" Godric asked as Elmar began cleaning up.


    "Because one small hesitation can either lead you to victory, or certain death. Simple as that," he replied as he stared at Godric. "Learn to forgive yourself Godric, and move on. Instead of looking at it simply as cold-blooded murder, also try to understand that it was also an essential lesson to be taught, especially to someone as innocent as you." Godric looked at him.


    "And what lesson would that be?" he asked.


    "It is that life is never easy, even for immortals such as us, and that even through death, we also allow ourselves to grow. That boy--Walter, now that he is gone, what will you do then?" Elmar asked him in return. "Will you continue to hide behind fear?" He stood and approached Godric. "Or will you soldier on the weight of taking one''s life; understanding the fact that in our world, not everyone can be saved." The boy sat in silence for a good while, then stood up and looked Elmar in the eye. A quiet conversation happened between the two. No words were exchanged, but an understanding was reached.


    "It seems that you are finally ready," the elf turned and began to head toward the shed. "Go, and may the old gods watch over you." he then ventured off, leaving Godric once again to himself.


    Something changed within Godric at that moment. Although he had yet to fully comprehend what he had learned, his gut feeling told him that it was a good thing, and that was enough evidence for him to trust in what he could do. He looked at the twin swords in his hands and positioned them towards each other so that the inner curves would combine to form a circular shape. Immediately, they combined into one singular being and radiated a faint glow.


    Godric hovered his hand over the center, which had formed a full moon upon closer inspection. The weapon hovered over his hand. He then placed it over his head towards his back, and surprisingly the weapon stuck as if an invisible sheath were holding it up. Not my greatest creation, eh? Godric chuckled at Elmar''s words.


    He looked at the ceiling and realized it was getting dark. Anar¨®r?, he thought to himself as he began to run off toward where she was. On most occasions, he dreaded their training but on this particular day, Godric was now somewhat eager to teach the elf a lesson or two. Of course, he knew he wouldn''t win but by this point in time, he had nothing else left to lose.

 Ch. 7 -- Turning Tables

    He passed the forest, took a few turns, and was panting when he arrived, but Godric finally found himself back at the training grounds. He took a quick breath, scanned the room, and found the elf princess lurking in the dark end, staring daggers at him.


    "You''re late," she pointed out as she stepped out of the shadows, but noticed that Godric had picked out a weapon. "I see you were finally able to choose something. Well, not that it matters." the elf unsheathed her curved long blade as she began to circle Godric, who had also drawn Death''s Lament in unison and had already shifted to a defensive stance.


    Anar¨®r? took a moment to observe the peculiar weapon in Godric''s hands, as it was the first time she had ever seen such a weapon of its kind. "What a strange blade. This might turn out to be an interesting affair after all," she smiled at him, poised and ready to strike at any moment. "I will provide the details of your trial later. For now, consider this to be your final combat training, mortal. Prepare yourself."


    In a blink of an eye, the elf seemingly vanished from where she stood and appeared within arm''s length in front of Godric, who was barely able to raise his sword in time to block her first strike. Her speed had caught him off-guard.


    "Wake up," she taunted him. "This will be a long night."


    Godric grunted and retaliated by moving back as he swung his sword downwards. He paralleled Anar¨®r?''s position by moving in a continuous motion alongside her as he attacked, which Anar¨®r? responded to by dodging every swing--using her natural agility to her advantage. The exchanges were intense as steel clashed against steel. After a while, she noticed Godric''s sword was embedded in the ground after a failed overhead slash. Sensing an opportunity, she looked at his right arm where he was protected with armor.


    "It looks like I win again," she spoke to Godric as she swung at the target area, attempting to disarm him.


    The ringing of steel rang throughout the room. Anar¨®r? thought she had won, but the elf was sorely mistaken as she was surprised to see a crescent-shaped sword meet hers instead. Godric twisted and gripped his weapon with both hands, fully catching her attack, her sword being separated only by Godric''s. Anar¨®r? stepped back out of instinct to study the situation as this was the first time Godric could successfully prevent a blow from her.


    His blade was stuck, she thought to herself. How was he able to block that? Looking back at where he was, the twin blade was still stuck to the ground, albeit missing its other half.


    "Two blades?" She asked Godric who was already closing the distance between them. "How bold of yo--" Anar¨®r? could not finish as her opponent lunged forward with a stab, catching her off guard. The elf barely dodged Godric''s attack as his movements became faster, more precise, and more direct. Godric had a concentrated look in his eyes. She positioned herself as Godric pressed the attack again, but now, the two were enveloped in a dangerous dance.


    Godric held nothing back, and Anar¨®r? slowly realized it as they parried and dodged each other''s attacks. The results of his training had finally borne fruit. She was right; it was merely hesitance that crippled Godric''s movement.


    He''s a natural in combat--I underestimated him too much. She thought as she ducked a sideward swing that would have rendered her unable to continue. Forced to a corner, she utilized the dagger strapped to her thigh, hidden from sight.


    Godric barely moved out of the way before the hidden swing of the dagger could hit him in the neck.


    "Hey!" Despite breathing heavily, he shouted at Anar¨®r?, who was finally sweating for the first time. "I thought this was training!" Anar¨®r? replied by lunging at Godric with a sword and dagger, forcing Godric backward as he attempted to block, parry, and dodge her attacks.


    He quickly realized that defending would be near impossible, as the elf was reinvigorated with a newfound aggression. Her dagger was able to chink and hit his armor from time to time, as the angled stabs and movement proved too much for his eyes to keep up with. He then switched to a one-armed grip for more flexibility in his movement.


    That pattern continued for a good while until Godric fell on his back, breathing heavily. He found himself next to where the other half of his weapon was still embedded in the ground. From across the room, Anar¨®r? was on one knee, her sword halfway across the room as well, and she breathed heavier than usual as this training finally took a toll on her. She looked at him, bewildered, as she probably never thought a mortal could push her this far. Most likely out of instinct, she immediately pulled out her silver bow and let loose an arrow at Godric who rolled out of the way.


    He picked up the other half of the twin swords as he stood up and immediately tried to think of a way to close the gap between them. This had to stop, and Godric felt like Anar¨®r? would not listen to reason even if one of them outright surrendered. There was a defiant look of pride in her eyes; one that did not scream of anger, but desperation.


    In a moment of adrenaline, he rushed toward Anar¨®r? who responded with a volley of never-ending arrows. He ducked, rolled, and dodged through, narrowly avoiding the elf''s precise shots. Godric even deflected a few of the arrows, catching himself by surprise. His stamina eventually failed him at one point, and he stopped to breathe as he knelt on one knee. Anar¨®r? saw the moment to strike and shot directly at Godric''s chest.


    I win again, she thought as a look of satisfaction spread across her face.


    Godric was helpless at the moment, and pressed the two swords together, forming them into one whole weapon again. He closed his eyes, bracing for the arrow to knock him back. He waited for the impending impact, however, it never arrived. Opening his eyes, he saw that the arrow intended for his chest was suspended, in mid-air. The circular figure created by the combined swords glowed at the point where the arrow would meet the opening.


    Godric laughed in amazement as he silently thanked Elmar, and quickly ran toward Anar¨®r? who was scrambling to get her weapon. Tensions were high on who could reach their target first. Godric was already running on adrenaline, while Anar¨®r? moved sluggishly. The difference was only a second, but Godric reached her sword first, kicking it out of arm''s length. The elf turned and pointed her dagger at him in defense, but Godric already had his swords crossed to her neck, an executioner''s stance.


    If it were a fight to the death, with one swift motion, he would be able to decapitate her head with ease.


    A tense silence filled the room as Anar¨®r? fiercely stared at him. Eventually, she dropped the dagger in her hand.


    "I concede." She sighed, defeated as Godric dropped his weapons and slowly sat down, the weariness finally settling in. Anar¨®r? followed suit as she too, sat down on the floor.


    A few rounds of applause suddenly came from the corner of the room. The two turned to the source to see l¨®m? and King Ithilien, who unveiled themselves seemingly out of thin air.


    "Splendid work, the both of you," Ithilien praised the pair. "I see that his physical training was also a success. Anar¨®r?, you may rest now, my child. Let me provide him the information on your behalf." Anar¨®r? silently nodded and stood up as her twin came to her aid. A druid accompanied by a few dryads also came inside to fetch her, and within moments, the princess was escorted out of the training ground and presumably into the infirmary.


    Godric wanted to stand out of respect for the king, but his legs failed him. "Calm yourself, find your bearings first," Ithilien told him as he nodded and collected his breath. "Good." the king then manifested a circular wooden table with three seats. "Now please, sit. We will begin once l¨®m? returns from the library." Moments later, the elven prince returned, carrying three books with him that varied in size and color.


    <hr>


    "Godric, before we continue I have something to confess," the king turned to Godric, who was being tended to by the druid who helped him before. "The trial that was tasked to you; is near impossible to accomplish. For our accomplished soldiers, guardians, and to some extent, even me." l¨®m? opened a violet-colored book and turned to one page. After casting an illusory spell, the room lit up with a map with landmarks and marked areas.


    "This is a map containing the information you need to reach the cavern of Araphine," l¨®m? explained to Godric who studied the map intently. "What do these red markings signify?" Godric asked, pointing out a few marks that stood out.


    "The markings symbolize the locations of those who died embarking on this trial." Ithilien stepped in to answer. "Many attempts have been made to accomplish this trial, and over eons of watching countless lives try, but only end up failing and lose their lives, it pains me so." He spoke as the room suddenly bathed in a dark blue hue, almost as if the forest itself reflected the elven king''s genuine sorrow.


    Godric felt sorry for the elves, and seeing the king in this state made him more determined to accomplish this task. He realized that as of now, he was doing this trial not only for his sake but also for the future and morale of the elves. It was the least he could do.


    "What sort of dangers would I be encountering?" he asked the king. l¨®m? set aside the book and opened another. "This is what we would call a bestiary in your tongue," Ithilien replied as l¨®m? flipped through the pages. "In the realm of Men, I believe these only exist in the libraries of the Great Houses. The book contains knowledge of every known creature throughout history," he explained as l¨®m? stopped at a certain page.


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    They all looked at the page containing a drawing of a woman, and the king''s expression had turned into something representing unbridled rage, one that was simply masked underneath his calm, silver eyes. Beneath the facade, Godric could feel the pulse of overwhelming power from the elven king and was forced to use mana to prevent himself from fainting. Eventually, the pulses ceased, and Godric could breathe easy.


    "I apologize for my behavior. l¨®m?, if you may." The prince without question then proceeded to continue where his father had stopped. "The cavern is home to many dangerous beings; a rare species of venomous spider, centipedes of unimaginable size, and many more. However, what you will have to look out for, would be the Witch." He conjured the blurry image of a woman with a somewhat youthful appearance.


    Drawn mysteriously by her beauty, Godric had fallen into a trance, but l¨®m? quickly knocked the sense back into him. "Do not be fooled by this thing''s appearance," he told Godric. "This...monster has taken countless lives because of its magic. Its charm draws you in, will make a fool out of you, and then finally it will take your life. The monster does require sustenance, but enjoys the thrill of watching you suffer even more." Godric steeled himself after hearing l¨®m?''s word of warning.


    "According to what is written, there was ever only one occasion where it appeared in its true form and lay waste to our kind on a massive scale," Godric wanted to ask him for more information on how to survive. However, a part of him ultimately decided to let it be.


    l¨®m? continued to explain the rest of the details. The cavern was located in neutral territory, therefore the elves could not help Godric against the local authorities once he stepped outside the borders. "The ones marked in green are listed as safe havens," l¨®m? pointed out. "We have a few abandoned lookouts in these areas that still contain supplies. Not to worry as they cannot be seen, or accessed by the untrained eye, but I will teach you how to do so before you set off." l¨®m? then opened the final book, which looked older than the previous two.


    "Now this is what you have to seek out." The prince flipped through the wrinkled pages until they saw a necklace of unmatched quality. Its design was foreign and ancient but had an elvish influence as well. Godric studied the relic even further and noticed that it resembled a crescent moon, aligned with bright, silver gems that glimmered like starlight. "It is beautiful," he remarked. "It is indeed," Ithilien praised the handicraft as well. "The crescent moon is considered our house''s sacred relic, but it also holds a dear place in every elf''s heart. Not just for my subjects, but for all of my kind." He sighed and then smiled as if recalling a pleasant dream or a memory.


    "If you manage to accomplish this, then know that all of the elven kind shall be indebted to you, Godric." The king nodded his head down as if to say good luck. The boy stood and bowed in return. "I shall do my best, Your Majesty," he replied. "But I have to ask, how can I exactly get in and out of the cavern alive?" l¨®m? quickly picked up the bestiary and to the page that contained details about the witch.


    He scanned the page and patted his index finger on a scribbled section. "The beast''s specialty is that it has an impeccable sense of smell. One step inside the cavern, and it will easily know that you are there." Godric looked at him, dumbfounded.


    "I don''t know how that will increase my odds of surviving, Iome." He walked around the room to try and think of a plan.


    "Or...perhaps it will," the king spoke after a brief silence, which caught the attention of the two. "I know what this beast is capable of. It is an ancient and prideful being. Long ago, nothing was worth its time, with the only worthy exception being us elves who it saw as prey," he explained. "There is a possibility that our most distinguished warriors failed because they lacked the element of surprise. It had smelled their presence a considerable distance away already."


    The king stood up with a newfound energy, somewhat filled with hope. "If you, a mortal, stepped into its lair then there is a chance that it will simply ignore your presence. It is a gamble, yes, but it provides us with an opportunity at success." Ithilien had a fire in his eyes, one that Godric was glad to see.


    l¨®m? couldn''t help but smile. It was the first time in a long time since he had seen his father filled with such hope. Such a sight was a rare occasion, and he treasured the moments when it happened. "l¨®m?, take Godric to his room and see to it that he is prepared for the journey. He has a long road ahead of him tomorrow," Ithilien commanded the prince, who nodded his head. "Godric, I wish you the best. Get a good night''s rest for you will leave at dawn," the boy looked at the elven king, determined. "As you wish, your majesty." The two left the room, leaving the king alone to his thoughts. After sensing that they were gone, the king finally sat back down, shaking.


    "My dear Illyrana," the king spoke to himself. "This mortal might finally be the answer..." he continued as tears fell on his scarred, yet angelic face. "Wait for me, please." His voice, breaking.


    <hr>


    Time passed quickly for everyone that evening. Godric slept as l¨®m? and the druid healed his fatigue. Anar¨®r? couldn''t sleep, and took a stroll through the forest, contemplating what might happen next. The king made the arrangements so Godric could start without encountering trouble while still under his territory. Multitudes of the kingdom''s inhabitants rose from their sleep earlier than usual and flocked to the northern section, wanting to see Godric off. The light was starting to break, and everything was all set.


    Godric woke up feeling well rested, despite the rough training he encountered the night before. "Ready?" l¨®m? stood at the doorway, stepping into the room carrying Godric''s armor. He looked at the armor and saw the damage had already been repaired. "Did you take this to Elmar?" Godric asked.


    "I did, and he immediately went to work on it." The prince replied. "Seems like you didn''t get any sleep at all," Godric pointed out. "No worries, a night without rest is hardly a second in the life of an elf. I feel fine. You should prepare yourself, though. They''re waiting for you." l¨®m? left the room to give Godric some time to gear up.


    He left the room with Death''s Lament strapped to his back, along with a pouch that contained a generous amount of gold for possible transactions with his kind. As he walked through the forest, he said his goodbyes to the other forest folk who considered him a friend. He passed by the smithy''s to give his thanks to Elmar. "I hope we meet again, Elmar--thank you," Elmar smiled at him. "Likewise, friend. I hope you make good use of them. Now go, they''re waiting for you at the northern gate." The two exchanged nods and went back to their own business.


    Godric headed north and eventually found himself at the magically barred gates with the king, l¨®m?, and the forest folk awaiting him. "Are you ready, Godric?" Ithilien asked the mortal, who quietly responded with a simple nod of his head. The king then turned around and spoke in elvish, summoning one of the wisps that gave Godric his trial. It twirled around the king and merged itself with the large, ancient wooden gates, removing the magical barrier. Elven soldiers then worked together to push it open, the gates creaking loudly.


    l¨®m? approached Godric with a map in hand. "You''ll need this after you step outside our borders. I''ve marked every road, town, and safehouse you''ll be encountering on the way there," he explained as he handed it to Godric.


    "Thanks, where''s your sister?" Godric asked him. "She''s outside with her squad. They''ll be escorting you until you reach the end of the border." The prince replied.


    "I see. Earlier on, you mentioned that these safehouses require a trained eye to be seen. Also, how do I even open them?" Godric asked. "Simply concentrate a portion of your mana to your eyes. In doing so, you''ll see that things will be somewhat different. Try to do it now." l¨®m? instructed Godric as the mortal closed his eyes and imagined that a portion of mana would gather around his eyes. It took him a few minutes, but after envisioning what l¨®m? had said, he opened his eyes and saw that the world around him was now dyed in grey and white.


    He noticed that non-living things were dyed grey and that the color white represented beings that were alive. However, he looked at l¨®m? and saw that his entire body was a mixture of white and blue. "Woah..." Godric was taken aback. "I take it that the blue hue represents things that contain mana?" he asked as l¨®m? nodded in approval. "You learn quickly. Yes, it does, but it only appears on living things that have learned how to manifest the innate mana within them or inanimate objects that have been imbued with magic." the elf explained.


    Godric turned to the animals that were present to check and saw that they only glowed with the color white, proving l¨®m?''s response to be correct.


    "Interesting. How about the door?" Godric asked.


    "If you approach a safe house, speak the word edro, and the door will open." the prince answered him. "Edro...sounds simple enough. Thank you again." Godric extended his hand, as a sign of respect and gratitude for the prince, to which again, the prince accepted without hesitation.


    "Come back alive," l¨®m? shook his hand. "I''ll try my best," Godric responded. He then passed l¨®m? and went to the king, who was surrounded by his guard. "Your Majesty." Godric bowed.


    "Best of luck to you, Godric of Rosetown. May the old gods protect you in your journey." Ithilien said to Godric. The boy then passed the gates and was met by Anar¨®r? and her squad. She was in good shape after last night''s fight but remained silent.


    "We''ll be accompanying you until the end of the border," one of the elves dressed in what appeared to be a scout''s uniform told Godric. "Are you ready, mortal?" He asked him.


    Godric took a deep breath and looked at the elf. "Ready as I''ll ever be. Let''s go." The elf nodded as he shouted a command to his squad, who began to move. He then signaled to close the gate behind them. The gates slowly closed with a loud thud. The group then moved forward and eventually found themselves outside the forest, with Godric seeing the morning light rise from the distance.


    He stopped in his tracks. It had been a good, long while since Godric had tasted the sunlight. He was happy to see the dawn. For him, he considered it as a new chapter in his life and a chance at redemption.


    "Did I beat your legs so badly last night that they now forgot how to move?" Anar¨®r? shouted at him from a distance. The group was already a considerable distance away from Godric. The boy simply replied with a smirk as he rushed towards them, eager to start his adventure.

 Ch. 8 -- Shires Eye

    A week had gone since their fated departure from Rosetown, but the roads were still infested with soldiers and refugees. News regarding the ransacking of House Polifio''s treasury had spread like wildfire throughout the continent. The days that followed were nothing short of chaotic. Xhiamas and company headed north to find one of the hideouts that stored the goods. The distance was not as daunting at first, but because of the unexpected retreat to the western exit of Rosetown, the group now found themselves on the western outskirts of Lord Mikhael''s lands. Traveling by road was no easy task as well, for every town and hold under the Polifios'' rule was on high alert for runaways and non-locals. The group was forced to take the scenic route instead and traverse through the forest that surrounded the nearby mountain while following the river that led north.


    The evening was drawing in, and the group unanimously decided to take a rest. Wyatt and Xhiamas prepared their sleeping quarters while Cassian and Hawk agreed to set out in search of food as they were running out of supplies. "Where did I put that thing again?" Cassian searched for his dagger. "I''ll set up a fire. Don''t wander off too far if you cannot find a fresh game," Xhiamas advised the two. "We still have some berries left from yesterday."


    "Duly noted," Hawk replied. "We''ll be back." They then set off deeper into the forest, leaving the smithy''s son and the mysterious man to themselves. "We''ve been traveling for days now," Wyatt spoke to Xhiamas as he spread out a rugged, simple cloth to sleep on. "How much farther until we''ve reached this hideout?"


    "Judging by the pace we have been traveling at, we will arrive in a few days at noon if we can hire a ferry to transport us to Gillsberry," Xhiamas replied as the embers of the campfire lit up the surrounding area. The Arrow looked at Wyatt who was almost done setting up camp and noticed that something had changed in the boy. The boy has steeled himself in such a short amount of time, Xhiamas thought to himself. "How are you holding up now that your father is no longer with us, Wyatt?"


    Wyatt thought about how to address the question. He turned to the war hammer his father gave him; the parting gift that was given before being consumed by a mass of nature. He felt angry, but oddly enough, was calm about the situation. "I''m doing fine," Wyatt replied as he walked toward the weapon and knelt, his eyes full of questions. "I don''t know why, but despite everything that''s happened, I feel both angry and at peace, if that makes any sense."


    "Conflict brews inside you, eh?" Xhiamas replied. "It was noticeable the moment you stepped outside your house."


    The boy looked at the scout, confused. "I could see it in your eyes, Shaa''le," the scout stood up and approached him. "The eyes are the windows to one''s soul. They did not lie to me on that day, and they do not lie to me right now," Xhiamas continued as he touched the war hammer. "Such fine craftsmanship, but I''ve been through enough battles to know that this one was no mere gift--this one has a story. Whether its tale was designed to be given to you by the time comes, or was it given out of a father''s concern for his pride and joy, I cannot say for certain. However, I do know that the story has now been passed on to you. So, make the best out of it and continue to fill the blank pages." The scout then headed back and warmed himself near the campfire, letting out a breath as he sat down.


    Wyatt carried his weapon towards the campfire and set it down beside him as he meditated on his thoughts. Xhiamas gave the boy the time to himself, and a silence fell on the camp as the sun was setting on the horizon.


    The crackles of the campfire along with the sounds of nocturnal animals surrounded them. Nighttime had come. Wyatt stared at the emerald gemstone embedded in the hammer. He questioned its whereabouts, its significance and so much more. The sound of rustling came from their flank, and Wyatt prepared himself despite not having any experience in fighting using a weapon of this caliber.


    "Calm down--it is only them," Xhiamas reassured him. True enough, Cassian and Hawk headed to the camp carrying the body of a dead deer. "We got lucky. Hawk spotted it right before we went back here." Cassian remarked as the two put down the mass of meat beside the fireplace. Xhiamas looked at the spot where the deer was shot and gave an approving nod. "A clean kill, my friend. Have you ever shot a bow before?"


    "Never. I considered it beginner''s luck." Hawk remarked.


    "Nonsense--we make our luck. Oh well, whether the bow was graced by your gods'' blessings or not, we will be feasting tonight friends." The scout replied as he asked for Cassian''s dagger and began to skin the animal, preparing what they considered to be the best meal they''d had since leaving Rosetown.


    An hour had passed, and the moon was now shining brightly in the night sky. Supper was finally ready. Xhiamas rationed the food evenly amongst them and added an extra portion as a thank-you for Hawk, who declined the offer at first but was persuaded by the rest to accept it nonetheless.


    "We caught a glimpse of the main road while hunting and spotted a small squad on horseback," Cassian said as he began to eat his share. "A dozen foot soldiers with a golden rose embedded on green cloaks; undoubtedly men sworn to serve the Polifios. They were headed directly into Shire''s Eye, which is where we had all planned on going in the first place. What do we do now?"


    An audible tone of disapproval was heard from Wyatt. Shire''s Eye was a trading town built near a large lake that cut off into separate rivers, with each one leading to other towns that belonged to other great houses. It was neutral territory, as it was located between the borders of houses Polifio and Browgan. After the war ended, the two great houses established a rocky relationship as the town along with the lake were originally Browgans'' land, long before the kingdom was united. However, the head of house Polifio at the time managed to weasel their way into claiming almost half of the territory. They reasoned that it was a ''small transaction'' in exchange for their services during the war. The majority of the council agreed to it, but it left a bad taste in Lord Dunwick''s mouth who was--and still is the head of the house. The story was well known amongst the common folk, especially to Wyatt as he and his father would occasionally visit Shire''s Eye back then to sell weapons for food, money, and other goods.


    "We press on. The town provides the only way to cross the great lake, and we have gone too far west to journey back." Xhiamas replied, staring into the flames. He has a point, Wyatt thought to himself. Our best bet would be to lay low and avoid catching unwanted attention. Hawk stood up and headed towards his side of the camp, having already finished his meal. "It''s decided then. First thing in the morning, we make do for Shire''s Eye. I''m off to rest. Wake me up in a few hours." He rested his bow and quiver on a nearby boulder and settled in for the night.


    "I''ll take the first watch," Wyatt volunteered. "I will join you." Xhiamas followed in quick succession. "Well then, I''ll be off to catch some sleep. I''ll take over after Hawk''s watch has ended. Good night then." Cassian as well, headed over to his side of the camp and sprawled onto the ground, hoping to get a good night''s sleep.


    The night passed by quickly for all. It wasn''t long after that when morning came, and everyone prepared themselves for the road ahead.


    "Stealth will be essential today," Xhiamas instructed the group as he draped a grey cloth over his face. "We enter town and hire a boat that will lead us directly over towards the northeastern stream. From there, it should be smooth sailing towards Gillsberry, which will cut the traveling time at least half a day." Hawk and Cassian looked and nodded at each other, almost as if they agreed on something. "How about supplies? We can trade the deer pelts in exchange for gold that we could use to restock our rations." Cassian suggested. A part of Wyatt agreed to the idea, but it was far too risky. Even if the two houses were not exactly on good terms, local bounty hunters also joined in on the hunt, and nothing attracts such people more than the promise of gold.


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    "Hmm..." Xhiamas pondered on the idea. "It is a risk, but it is one I am willing to take. Give me the pelts." The two celebrated while Wyatt was left stunned. "Didn''t you say just now that we need to lay low?" He picked up the war hammer with both hands and almost stumbled in doing so. The boy was still not accustomed to the weight despite training in between their travels. "Let me handle that problem," the scout chuckled. "If I were you, I would be more worried about how to blend in, seeing as you are carrying a war hammer of all things into a trading town. Now let us go while we have time to spare."


    The group then trekked outside the forest, toward the main road, and waited for a moment to check if the area was clear. They then marched on as they tucked their heads down with Xhiamas leading the way, their faces draped with dirty cloth to mask their features. It was not long after when Shire''s Eye finally came into view. The town was massive, partially because it was a center for trade in the west. It did not span as wide as Rosetown. It did not have intricately designed buildings, nor did it have fountains and a castle, but the place had a certain charm to it. There were only two existing ways to enter the trading port: stone bridges built on the opposing ends. Being on the western end, they went in knowing that the entrance was guarded with green cloaks, but as luck would have it, no soldier was seen patrolling the area. The group was only met with a madman who rambled about the end of the continent and a few unknown traders who showcased silverware and goods that Wyatt knew to be fraudulent in quality.


    The more they ventured into town, the more the masses increased in quantity, and the group saw the full display of why Shire''s Eye acquired its reputation. The town center was more of a huge marketplace rather than a location of governance. Vendors were scattered and lined up all across the streets, drunk people of different ages stumbled out of the local taverns, and one could see an occasional pickpocket snatch a pouch or two from a poor sod. The scene was undoubtedly lively, but that only made the group even more wary of the potential dangers that lay ahead of them.


    "We split up for now. Keep your heads low, and try to hire a boat that will ferry us toward Gillsberry," Xhiamas instructed the group, who managed to merge with the bustling crowd despite their ragged looks and weapons on hand. "Hold on; how are we supposed to pay for the ferry when you have all the gold?" Wyatt asked, to which the scout replied by plucking a bronze coin hidden underneath his garment. The craftsmanship was beautiful and was not of Primeran lands, judging by the foreign patterns. "This should fetch a good price," he tossed the coin to Hawk, who almost failed to catch it. "Stick together, and once you find a ferryman, send someone back here in the center to meet up with me." The rest of them nodded their heads and then split off to work on their respective tasks.


    Wyatt and company navigated the alleyways and streets, passing by potential buyers and tradesmen who were either selling goods or were drunk off their heads. "This town is a mess," Cassian remarked under his breath as he weaved through the mass of people, clutching his sword sheathed to his side. "It''s a wild place for sure, but I can say without a doubt that this one''s one of the ''tamer'' places in Primera," Hawk replied to him, eliciting a bewildered look from Cassian. "Let''s be glad we haven''t run into any green cloaks yet." He was being cautious, as he occasionally looked left and right for any signs of trouble.


    A few minutes of walking later, they found themselves at Shire''s Eye''s famous port where all imported goods were to be inspected, exports were to be made, and ferries were available for traveling purposes. It was also home to a fish market that Wyatt was familiar with, as he remembered eating fresh cod every time they were in town.


    "Now...where do we begin?" Hawk scanned the area, looking for a potential ferryman who could help them with their journey. The smell of seafood and spices filled the air, distracting the trio. "Roasted fish...how I''d love to eat one or two right about now," Cassian remarked as his lips began to water. "I''d settle for some fresh cod right now, but time is not on our side," Wyatt piped in, agreeing with the idea. "Maybe we can ask Xhiamas to buy some if he has extra coins on him when he comes ba--" he stopped mid-sentence as Cassian and Hawk stared at him, confused. They turned and saw a group of green clocks that had turned from a corner and were now directly headed in their direction.


    "Shit!" Hawk silently cursed as he gestured toward an empty table from the nearby fish stand that served food. "Take a seat, and lay low!" With no time wasted, they sat down and signaled to a girl who was tending to the other customers.


    The soldiers marched, their light armor clanking with each heavy step they took on the wooden planks. The wind blew hard, causing the lake waters to splash. Wyatt took a quick glimpse at them and saw men with hardened looks. These men have seen battle before. He thought to himself. We''re no match for these people. A soldier turned to Wyatt''s direction and locked eyes with him, even if it was merely for a moment. The boy quickly retreated his gaze and stared back at the wooden table, praying to the Divines that they would ignore them.


    Shit! Shit! Shit! His thoughts screamed, hating himself for his stupidity. Hawk and Cassian tried to play it off as casually as they could but eventually, Wyatt and company soon found themselves surrounded by green cloaks.


    "Good morning to you folks," the soldier that Wyatt caught the attention of greeted them with a smile. He stood out from the rest as he wore armor of impressive quality, denoting his rank and status. "We''re having a lovely day aren''t we?" He positioned himself at the end of the table, observing each of their expressions.


    "We''re on the hunt for runaways. Well, to be frank, prisoners. Mainly those who escaped the chaos following what happened at Rosetown. You''ve heard the news by now haven''t you?"


    "We have, and a terrible thing for it to have happened, really," Hawk replied as the woman they signaled to earlier placed mugs of water onto their table. "I cannot understand the minds of the people behind such an act. I mean--who could ever do such a thing?" He asked the soldier in a shocked tone, hoping to shake off any suspicion from the man.


    "Yes...who could do such a thing indeed," the green cloak managed to observe that they were carrying weapons. "You''re pretty well equipped for people wearing travelers'' clothing. State your business here in Shire''s Eye." He asked the trio, who were now silently panicking and exchanging glances. A few moments passed but still no response came from the three of them, which only increased the suspicion of the group of green cloaks who were now ready to draw their swords.


    "I''ll ask again," the soldier asked, this time inching closer to Wyatt, with a cold demeanor. "State your business."


    "Ah! There you are!" A voice rang out from behind them. The soldiers turned to the source, as did the three who breathed easy as they were seconds away from fighting for their lives. To their surprise, the voice came from the madman they encountered at the bridge earlier, however, this time he was wearing trader''s clothing, and pinned on his chest was an ornament that symbolized a blue trout.


    "Apologies my friends, if I was a bit late. You would think living in this town for so long, you would know the ins and outs like they were marked on the back of your hand." He continued. The man was no more in his early fifties. Streaks of grey covered portions of his hair and rugged beard. He also exuded an aura around him; a strong, imposing one, yet his face was calm, collected, but authoritative.


    "You know these people?" One of the soldiers asked the stranger in grey, who settled himself onto the empty seat next to Wyatt. "Why of course--they''re my clients from the eastern coast. Apologies if they dress in such a manner, the journey is understandably long and dangerous which explains the weaponry. As for the clothing, it would be best to travel in such as to avoid bandits, wouldn''t it?" He explained to the soldiers, who mumbled to themselves as they believed in what he was saying. The supposed ''leader'' of the green cloaks seemed hesitant to buy the story but eventually, he too, gave in.


    "We''ll be off then. Good day to you, gentlemen." The green cloaks then marched onward, leaving the trio with the stranger who saved their lives.


    "We don''t know who you are, but we''re in your debt, good sir," Cassian spoke to the man in grey. "We don''t have much at the moment, but we''ll be sure to repay you in kind in due time." He continued. The man drank from a mug to quench his thirst and then let out a relieved sigh.


    "In truth, I was the indebted one. After what had happened just now, I consider that debt to be paid," he turned to Wyatt who held his hammer, still ready for a fight. "I know that hammer from anywhere. Are you the Ironclad''s son?" Wyatt eased his grip, as he was caught off guard after hearing his father''s moniker.


    "How do you know my father?" He asked. Hawk and Cassian readied their weapons on instinct after hearing Dale''s name and seeing that Wyatt dropped his guard, bracing themselves due to the uneasy feeling they were getting.


    "I fought by his side, boy. Saved my life, in fact," the stranger stood up and a visible scar was seen across his neck as he turned to face the three runaways. "The three of you should know when to calm down. All this tension is not good for you, especially for people at your age." They then looked at each other in confusion but calmed down enough for the stranger to breathe a sigh of relief.


    "I, am Dunwick of the great House of Browgan," he introduced himself. "The warden of the west, and I welcome you to Shire''s Eye." The wind blew across the trees and the great lake, causing water to splash along the port. The town was brimming with activity and full of noise, but between the four of them, only stunned silence stood out.

 Ch. 9 -- Dunwick of House Browgan

    The three of them quickly stood on their feet, stunned at the revelation. Cassian stumbled back in shock, falling back on the wooden plank floor with a loud thud. The men who ate at the other tables looked at him and laughed as they broke bread and drank, while the others ignored him and continued with their meal. "M-milor--" Hawk started to mumble and bow, but the head of the house Browgan quickly grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him back down his seat with surprising strength, catching the former baker off guard.


    "Be quiet," Dunwick told him as he pressed a finger to his lips, signaling the group to remain silent. After a brief moment, he asked them to sit back down and they were quick to oblige. "Thank you, I''d prefer to keep my identity a secret. It is very tiring to be kept all cooped up back at Eagleview, and the people here are much more lively."


    "But milord," Wyatt leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "With all due respect, isn''t it dangerous for you to be here with all the mercenaries and with you being far away from Eagleview?" He asked, concerned about their savior''s safety.


    "You''d be a fool to think I need any help defending myself, boy. I''ve been through skirmishes and have survived one of the bloodiest wars this land has seen," he replied to Wyatt who seemed to regret what he had said. "Be thankful that you''re the son of Blackwood. Where is the man anyway, and what brings you to Shire''s Eye of all places?"


    The girl who served them water earlier then returned to fetch their mugs. "Do you gents want anything?" She asked.


    "Four plates of cod please, make sure they come from the most recent batch," Dunwick replied, smiling. The lord was adept at blending in with the crowd, changing his accent and tone as quickly as lightning. "All right, be right back then!" Said the girl, signaling the cook to prepare their meal.


    Dunwick then looked back at the group, who failed to answer his questions. "Hmm...I know when something is wrong. Your faces gave it away. What happened?" He asked as his demeanor returned to normal, sensing something was off as the mood changed quickly, as the faces of the beaten down trio turned from fear and respect to sadness.


    "Uhm...milord, it is a long story." Hawk stepped in to break the silence. The lord of Eagleview looked at him, shifting his sitting position, intending to listen to every word. "Go on, I have all the time in the world."


    Hawk then spent a good amount of time retelling their adventure, how they first met each other in the dungeons of Rosetown and the chaos that ensued after the capital of House Polifio was ransacked, a particular portion of their tale that made Lord Dunwick laugh like there was no tomorrow. Cassian stepped in between the conversation and spoke about how Dale had disappeared. After hearing Cassian''s story, the head of the House Browgan held up his hand and asked him to stop.


    "Hold on," he began to ask in a serious tone. "Are you saying Dale Blackwood, the hero of Rosetown, the man who saved my life, is dead?"


    "Not exactly, Milord," Wyatt replied. "He simply disappeared in a massive amount of nature that consumed him, we aren''t exactly sure of his condition, but we''re hoping that he st--" Dunwick slammed the table hard with his left hand, revealing the Browgan House''s signet ring. "Hold on, a massive amount of nature, you say?" He asked, his tone becoming increasingly curious and angry. "What do you mean by that, lad?"


    "I cannot say anything more than what was already said, milord," Wyatt replied to him. "A freakish wave of roots and dirt chased us away toward the western exit of Rosetown. It was as if Mother Earth was chasing us while we ran away from the chaos. My father bought us some time to escape, but eventually, he was covered in a massive mixture of wood and soil. It''s hard to believe, but it is the truth."


    Hearing those words, the lord was visibly furious. He stood up from the table and began to pace back and forth in an agitated manner. The trio silently panicked as their original plan of stealth might be compromised.


    "That...fucking...idiot!" Dunwick screamed, catching the attention of almost everyone present in the area. "And here I had thought his bastard of a father was bad enough, it turns out, he''s even worse than him!" He continued, and a searing headache had begun to form in his head. The girl from earlier had slowly made her way toward the table, carrying the freshly cooked cod, and quietly placed them on the table.


    "H-here you go, gents," she said, her voice quivering as it was evident that she wanted no part in this mess. "Thank you, dear," Cassian replied, but as they looked at the steaming, cooked meal, their appetite disappeared as their host was clearly, not in the mood.


    A couple of heavy breaths later, Lord Dunwick finally calmed himself as he released a tired and annoyed sigh. "This is bad. Very, very, bad. Come with me, quickly. As for the food, bring it with you, eat it, leave it, I don''t care." He instructed them as he plucked out twelve gold coins and placed them on the table, which were triple the amount needed to pay for the fish. The trio immediately took the wooden plates with food and their weapons and ate as they left the scene. The lord also tossed a coin to the girl and the supposed owner of the food stall, who was beginning to complain about what was happening, but shut his mouth immediately after seeing the amount of gold present on the table.


    The four quickly maneuvered themselves through the streets of Shire''s Eye, ignoring anything and everyone in sight. Lord Dunwick led the charge, and by some unexplainable nature, Wyatt felt like the streets had paved a road for them as people quickly stood out of their way upon seeing the old man.


    "Where are we going?" Wyatt asked as they made their way deeper into the town. "We make way for the town hall. I have an urgent message to write, and a few things I''ll have to explain to you three." Dunwick replied over the noise of people conducting their own business. "Wait! We have someone else waiting for us near the town hall," Hawk quipped. "He''s a companion of ours, we wouldn''t be alive if he weren''t here."


    "Then he deserves an explanation too. I''ll head first inside as the three of you go look for your friend," Dunwick instructed them. "Do not take long, for my patience is wearing thin because of that Polifio bastard." The three of them nodded in silence and ran as quickly as possible. Once they reached the town square, Lord Browgan, cursing under his breath, directly headed for the hall as the three of them began their search for Xhiamas.


    "Divines take me--where is that man?" Cassian muttered as he scanned his surroundings left and right. "I don''t know either. He''s practically impossible to find in this crowd," Wyatt responded, as he too found it difficult to spot the Arrow. A few moments later by sheer luck, Hawk spotted the scout and pointed toward a direction. "There he is. Let''s get him." True enough, amongst the sea of people, Xhiamas stood underneath the covers of a vendor''s stall with a large sack strapped to his back, preoccupied with talking to someone. They were deep in conversation, with Xhiamas looking uncharacteristically agitated.


    The man he conversed with was a stranger to Hawk and Cassian, but Wyatt remembered him. It was the same person he and Xhiamas encountered in the tavern back in Rosetown. Why is he here? Wyatt thought to himself. He immediately removed such thoughts as more pressing matters were at hand. It wasn''t long before they reached Xhiamas, and as they did, the mysterious man took a good look at them, stepped back in silence, and wandered off into the crowd, vanishing without a trace.


    "There you are!" Cassian grabbed ahold of Xhiamas'' arm. "Thank you for the supplies, but we need to move right now," he remarked. "It''s a bit of a story, and we''re short on time," Hawk added. "Quickly, to the town hall." They then moved toward the building as Xhiamas and Wyatt exchanged glances. No words were spoken but Wyatt knew that Xhiamas understood that he wanted answers. They then followed the other two, who waved at them from afar.


    <hr>


    The metal chain links rattled loudly as the wooden doors of the town hall swung open with Wyatt leading the way, followed by Xhiamas, Cassian, and finally Hawk. They were met with odd looks from people and guards inside and were eventually approached by a tall man dressed in grey and white clothing with the sigil of a tower pinned on his chest--the mark of a town mayor.


    "Lord Dunwick is expecting you in the library," he said. "Best you make haste, it has been a while since I''ve seen him in this state." The group thanked the mayor and headed toward the library, which was located on the second floor of the structure. Hurrying up the stairs and finding themselves in the right spot, Wyatt knocked using the metal clamp and opened the door, revealing two soldiers and a messenger flanking Lord Dunwick, who was focused on making the final steps on writing his letter by pouring sealing wax on the parchment and pressing his ducal signet ring, imprinting the sigil of House Browgan.


    "Send this to the Capital," he handed the parchment to the messenger. "Ensure that Ser Byronard reads the letter. Tell them that this is of utmost importance." The messenger nodded his head. "As you wish, milord."


    "That''s a good lad," he patted him on the back. "I am entrusting you three with this letter. Make sure that no one will know of this message. Now, make haste--and may the Divines guide you." The three then left without another word, leaving Wyatt and company alone with the Warden of the West.


    "Now, I think you people might be wondering what in the seven hells might be going on, but I will try to explain in the best way that I can," Lord Dunwick sat down on one of the couches that were found in the center of the room. "Please, sit." He then gestured for the group to sit down, but his demeanor changed as he caught a glimpse of Xhiamas who sat down in front of him. "You know who I am don''t you, Lord Dunwick?" Xhiamas asked him.


    "Well, this is a surprise," Dunwick said as he smiled at the group, somewhat excited upon seeing Xhiamas. "You told me you had another companion--but you lot never specified that he was an Arrow of all people!" He cackled with laughter. "This brings another element to the table. I never thought I''d live to see the day when I get to see another one of your kind again." He leaned in closer to the four of them. "Now, you never really continued your story earlier. State your true business here."


    "Milord Dunwick, the three of us are mere runaways looking for another chance at life. We swear to you upon the old gods and the Divines, we bring no harm to your people or Shire''s Eye," Wyatt explained but Lord Dunwick simply replied to the response with a hearty laugh. "I appreciate your honesty, boy. However, you''re a bit naive, and I can''t blame you for that--being young, it''s in your nature after all. Don''t you people know that wherever their kind goes, chaos is soon to follow?" he pointed at the Arrow, who remained silent. "It happened years ago, and it is bound to happen now. Rosetown was a prime example, and if you were to ask me for my opinion, I thank your people for doing the deed."


    Xhiamas bowed his head, humbled by the praise. "No need to thank me, my lord. I was merely accomplishing the task entrusted to me," he said while picking up an apple from a nearby fruit basket. "May I?" he asked, to which Lord Dunwick agreed to with no hesitation. "Hold on, something''s not adding up," Cassian piped in, sounding agitated. "Lord Dunwick, forgive me for what might come off as rudeness, but why are you not affected by what happened at Rosetown?" he asked the head of House Browgan.


    "And now begins my time to explain things," Dunwick stretched for a bit. "I''m quite sure that your friend here has already introduced to you what the Arrows are and why they exist, but I will tell you the importance as to how badly we need them here in Primera." he stood up from his chair and walked around the library, the wooden floorboards creaking with each step.


    "The Wandering Arrows have shaped our history as a kingdom, and are rooted deep into our society, even deeper than you might think. They have seeds planted within the military, and the trade markets, and have even planted a seed or two in each Great House--even the Capital itself. They sow seeds of chaos and reap the outcome, but they are not the only ones who benefit from it. In truth, everyone benefits from their work, even if most do not notice it at first."


    The three were still confused as to what Lord Browgan was trying to point out, but Xhiamas smiled as he was thankful that someone had understood their philosophy.


    "Tell me, boy: why do you think we need chaos here in Primera?" Dunwick asked Wyatt, to which left the smithy''s son speechless. "I-I don''t know, milord," he replied, confused.


    "Simple. To become strong. For three thousand years after Unrel Wolfsbane of House Llyn united the Great Houses into one, great kingdom, Primera became the beacon and standard for other nations. They aspired to be like us. Uniting everyone was not done through simple diplomacy, as this land was never tame back then. Blood was spilled, tears were shed, and sacrifices were made. Such factors shaped the people back then and the very same factors shaped the Great Houses into the powerhouses that they are now. Every event of tragedy and discord in our history was done for the better good of our people." he explained as he went closer to the window and glanced outside the town.


    "Now, imagine a kingdom filled with hardened, powerful, vengeful men and women. Dreams, egos, and aspirations are sure to clash and because of that; corruption also bears fruit. However, not everyone can get what they want. Hence, the king asked for help from a foreign country in secrecy, thus creating the Wandering Arrows. Their only purpose is to sow necessary discord, but not too much. In that way, order is present, power is kept in check, corruption is rooted out, and the people are hardened and become strong. The only uncontrolled event in recent history would be the Civil War that began after the Blackroot Massacre. The Arrows never planted anything in that chaos, and our nation paid the price dearly." Xhiamas looked at his companions, who were slowly coming to terms with the knowledge that they were given.


    "It is a lot to take in, I understand that," he said, taking a bite of his apple. "However, I believe in due time you will come to understand everything." Wyatt looked at him with a blank expression on his face, as if he were in a daze. "So if I''m understanding this correctly, every war, assassination, political dispute, and movement was influenced by your people?" he asked him. "Yes, that is the truth," Xhiamas replied with no hesitation. "Every single event was either influenced or orchestrated by us, to keep any potential insurgence from happening, or to keep corruption to a minimum." he continued.


    After the revelation, Wyatt was a mess. His heart pounded with anger, his eyes held back tears. He gritted his teeth as only one thing came to mind. "If that is the case, then partly...you''re also responsible for my father''s death." he stood up and slowly grabbed his hammer with murderous intent, knocking down a candle lamp while doing so. Cassian and Hawk quickly held him back, as they sensed bloodlust in the boy''s eyes.


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    "Easy now, Wyatt!" Hawk pleaded as he held him back with all his might, feeling that if his strength faltered even for a little bit, Wyatt would easily blow past Cassian and him. "We know that they influenced the entire thing, but he is not to blame for what happened to your father! He alone decided to stay by himself!" He attempted to reason with the boy but failed as he was only met with grunts of defiance. Xhiamas looked at Wyatt with the same nonchalant expression as always, not even fazed by the boy''s rage.


    "Enough of this," Lord Dunwick intervened, as his patience finally had worn thin. "Sit down, boy." His voice boomed and echoed throughout the room, knocking off a few books from the shelves and blowing uncleaned dust from the walls. Wyatt, Hawk, and Cassian found themselves dazed, knocking over the couch they were sitting on as they stumbled onto the wooden floor. They immediately found their bearings and looked for the ones responsible for knocking them over but to their surprise, they saw no one but Xhiamas and Lord Dunwick, both of which were in their respective positions, and looked at them as if nothing happened.


    "W-what was that just now?" Cassian voiced out in shock and terror. "Who did that?"


    "Me, of course," Dunwick replied, answering the former medical practitioner''s question, which made the three of them back up to the end of the room, weapons raised. The head of House Browgan laughed at the sight of three people, clearly scared half to death and confused. "Do not worry, I won''t use that again unless necessary. A mere showcase of power. Sit back down, and clean up the mess, it''s impolite to not clean up after yourselves." The three of them immediately cleaned the mess up quickly and put down their weapons, but still were uncomfortable enough to entertain the idea of sitting down.


    "Very well then," Dunwick sat back down on his chair as Xhiamas continued to take a bite of the apple he had taken earlier. "Onto the important part. I will make this very simple and quick. Every word I say from here on out is the truth, whether you believe them or not," Dunwick looked at the trio with a serious look in his eyes.


    "First: the usage of magic for the race of Men was banned after the Civil War. To further enforce this, each leader from the Great Houses of Men used an enormous amount of mana, nearly killing us, to cast a vow that made every person forget that magic existed. We also swore a vow; to never use mana in public to avoid panic from the common folk, and to prevent such an incident from occurring again. A few individuals were exempted from this spell, such as members of the Great Houses, the Royal Guard, and key figures who played significant roles in the war. This included your father." He looked at Wyatt, who was trying to comprehend the situation.


    "Second: Lord Mikhael Polifio has evidently, broken that vow. As per the rules of the Codex and the severity of the crime, he is marked as a traitor to the realm and will be sentenced to death. This explains why I sent the letter to the Capital, as we require Sir Byronard and the Royal Guard to investigate and carry out the matter. This also explains why I cannot march into Rosetown and carry out the punishment. I have hated their family for a good while now, but as Warden of the West, I cannot bring needless bloodshed unto my people." The three of them looked at each other, still confused, but slowly came to terms, realizing that Lord Dunwick was on the side of righteousness, even if they still felt his ways and philosophies were twisted in a sense.


    "Mana? Vows? What is this?" Hawk asked, dumbfounded by what he had heard.


    "I know that you must be confused with what I have shared. However, I trust that your friend here will explain things later on," he looked at Xhiamas who nodded in silence. You might say that I am a madman. In some ways, I believe I am--but you must know that I will always stand for what I believe is right. I care little for what others might think of me, to hell with them." He said as he slowly approached the three. "You three were given a second chance. I advise you all to make the best out of it. Such opportunities are hard to come by, these days," He then moved toward his table and brought out a wine cup. "We will, milord. T-thank you, and apologies again for our rudeness." Hawk apologized and bowed, to which the others followed suit.


    "Bah! There''s nothing to apologize for. You people are still young. It is only natural for you to make mistakes. It is up to us old people who inch closer and closer to Death to guide you on the right path," he replied as he opened a cabinet that contained a selection of wines that were imported from different parts of Primera, and even from foreign kingdoms as well. "Where are you headed off to now?" He asked as he chose a bottle and poured crimson-colored wine into the cup while being careful to not spill any of its contents.


    "Gillsberry, milord. We originally planned on hiring a ferry but were cut off due to uhh...recent events," Cassian quipped, to which Hawk elbowed him in response, being careful not to insult their host again. "Then go," The lord simply waved his hand, signaling them to leave. "You do not need my permission to leave. As a thank you for providing me with an entertaining day, and interesting news, I''ll provide you with a ferry for free. Head to the harbor and look for a man named ''Flint''. He''s a mercenary who has worked with us for years. Tell him the phrase: ''The eagle watches over the trout'', and he''ll do the rest. He''s easy enough to find. Look for a person with an eyepatch over their right eye and a blue cloth tied to their left forearm, and you''ll be set." Dunwick then gulped down the wine instantly as if it were water. "Ahhh...that hit the spot," he remarked.


    "You''ve been merciful, milord. I''m sorry for my earlier actions," Wyatt said as he bowed, somewhat ashamed of what happened. "Again, we thank you for your generosity."


    "Don''t thank me just yet boy. This day is just getting started, and I''m now in a good mood," Lord Dunwick replied, leaving Wyatt confused. "What do you mean by that, Milord?" he asked, bothered by the response. "Remember the soldiers from earlier?" Lord Dunwick asked him. "Well, they''re back--and this time, they brought back up."


    A noise came from outside the library and suddenly, the mayor barged into the room, his face full of concern. "My Lord Browgan, I''ve just been informed that a large group of soldiers on horseback were spotted on the main road. They seem to be soldiers from House Polifio. They''ll be here at any moment, possibly within ten minutes or so," he informed the group.


    "How is that possible? I thought we were clear of them!" Cassian raced back and forth. "You forget where you are, lad. Shire''s Eye is home to many dangers. There are eyes and ears everywhere," Lord Dunwick answered his question as he poured another serving of wine into his cup. "Their leader''s a smart one, I''ll give him that. He probably sees me only as a trader, but I cannot say the same for the rest of you--the bastard probably hired someone to listen in on our conversation. Well, it matters not. Best you go off now." He advised the four of them as he drank his wine.


    Wyatt then approached Lord Dunwick. "Can you provide us safe passage to the port?" he asked, wondering if it was possible. "Easy now, boy. You''re asking for too much already," the lord replied. "You may be the Ironclad''s son, but looking at it now, you''re nowhere close to the man he was. You''re tarnishing his legacy, boy. Hell, are you even his to begin with?" he continued, stunning Wyatt into silence.


    "Your father saved my life, and I paid the debt earlier today when I bought you time," Lord Dunwick spoke to the boy, who looked down at the wooden floor, seemingly disheartened that he brought shame to his father. "But, if you truly are his son--then prove me wrong; show me what you can do. Do this, and I''ll grant you safe passage to Gillsberry. Call it a favor." The words were enough to give Wyatt the confidence that he needed. Desperate to live up to his father''s name, and prove that he was worthy to carry on his legacy, he looked up and stared at Lord Dunwick, his hand clenching the handle of his war hammer tightly.


    "What do I need to do?" he asked in a serious tone. The head of House Browgan laughed and smiled at him. "There it is--there''s the intensity you Blackwoods are known for," he replied, tossing aside the wine cup that tumbled onto the floor. "Put on a show. Show those Polifio bastards what you can do. Impress me, then I''ll grant you your safe passage."


    Hawk looked out the window, scanning the area, and true enough, green cloaks swarmed the town center. Stalls were cleared and merchandise was thrown as soldiers on foot began to surround the front of the town hall. "They''re here," Hawk warned the others. "What should we do?"


    "Simple. We fight." Wyatt replied in a serious, but dead tone. "Fight? You''re joking, right?" Cassian asked him, laughing half-heartedly. "We can''t handle that many soldiers! I''m not even a fighter to begin with!" he remarked.


    "It''s either we fight and go down swinging, or be locked up in a dungeon to rot for life. You choose." Wyatt shot back at him. Realizing the gravity of the situation they were in, Cassian sighed. "Divines take me--all right then." he readied himself for the fight as he began to prepare his sword and shield.


    Wyatt looked at Xhiamas, waiting for his response on the matter. "I will be with you, not to worry. I know we are not on good terms at the moment but know that I promised your father that I would keep you safe, and I will," he spoke to Wyatt, who nodded in response. "Okay--then let''s go. It would be rude to keep them waiting,"


    "Ahahahaha! Now we''ve got a show." Lord Dunwick cackled with laughter. The four of them then headed out of the library with their weapons in tow. Lord Dunwick and the mayor were behind them. They slowly descended the wooden steps as the eyes of every person in the building gazed at them as hushed whispers spread all across the room. Wyatt and company then found themselves at the wooden doors of the town hall. There outside, were soldiers waiting for them. All four of them knew that the only way to escape would be to go through hell first.


    "Ready?" Wyatt asked the others. Xhiamas and Cassian immediately responded by placing one hand on each side of the wooden doors, waiting for the signal. Hawk, who was behind them, already had his dagger prepared. "We''re only waiting on you," he said as he placed his hand on Wyatt''s shoulder. "We''ll get through this. We''re lucky bastards after all." Wyatt smiled at the comment. The thought of killing someone never crossed his mind before, but now he had no choice.


    "Open the doors." He commanded. The wooden doors then swung open with a loud thud, the metal links clanging as the four were met with the hot wind of the high noon and a large force of soldiers loyal to House Polifio. In the center of the chaos, stood the man responsible for bringing this swarm of green cloaks into one area. Wyatt stared at him as he tightly held his war hammer with both hands, to which the soldier responded by giving him a devious smile.

 Ch. 10 -- The Obvious Choice

    "Ah, there you are," the leader of the green cloaks spoke, raising both his arms as Wyatt and company slowly stepped outside of the town hall; weapons in hand and with expressions silently screaming that they were ready for a fight. They were surrounded by soldiers loyal to House Polifio, most of which were relatively new and had experience as green as the color of their clothes. The town''s citizens fully gazed at both parties, confused as to what was currently unfolding in front of their eyes.


    "And here I thought I lost the three of you. I knew something was off earlier," he pointed to Wyatt, whose eyes were fully locked onto him. "You''re the Ironclad''s son, aren''t you? You were a babe the first time we first met, and before this, you were being dragged to prison for attempted extortion. You managed to hide yourselves very well, I''ll admit that much. However, disguises only last for so long and I''m glad I had gold to pay a few birds to keep a good eye on you." He smiled.


    The soldier glanced behind Wyatt''s left shoulder where he saw Xhiamas standing, calm and mysterious as ever. "And who might you be?" He asked. "My birds never told me about you. State your name and business, good sir."


    "Only if you say yours first," Xhiamas replied, which made the green cloak smirk as if he was waiting for this moment. "Very well then," he removed his metal helm that was adorned with a griffin''s feather on top of it. "I am Caine of House Dewblossom, son of Isaiah, and the assigned captain of this hunt. We are following orders given by Lord Mikhael of House Polifio himself to hunt down all runaway prisoners and conspirators of the chaos that ensued in Rosetown." Caine took out a parchment and opened it to reveal a wax seal. Imprinted on it was a rose; the ancient sigil of House Polifio. "Now that I''ve introduced myself, I believe it would be your turn." He called for one of the soldiers and gave the roll of parchment to him.


    "I am nobody, Caine Dewblossom, and my business is to leave Shire''s Eye with these good people through peace or violence. Whichever one of the two will do just fine for me." Xhiamas replied, receiving a round of laughter and applause from Caine.


    "By the Divines, you must be mad!" He cried out.


    "I don''t know if you''ve noticed already, but we have you surrounded. The two exits of Shire''s Eye have guards ready and waiting," he remarked. "Thank you for being brutally honest good sir, and to you I say this; we were tasked to hunt people like you down. Now, it is up to you on whether you''ll be marching back to Rosetown where we will lock you back in a cell, or we end you; Right here, right now." The soldier replied with malice in his voice, leaving a deafening silence in the town center.


    Xhiamas stepped forward with no hesitation. He walked down the stone steps of the town hall, and slowly made his way toward Caine. The soldiers readied their weapons and began to take action in defending their captain, but the eldest son of the lower noble house signaled them to stand down. The tension was palpable in the lukewarm, autumn air, and everyone stared at them with eyes wide open; wondering what was to happen next when these two, somewhat unstoppable forces met face-to-face. The scout stood in front of the green cloak, calm as ever, his confidence unwavering.


    "...I think we both already know what happens next, green cloak," he tapped on Caine''s metal chest plate. "Let us get on with it already, we are wasting both of our times," he said, staring into Caine''s eyes. His opponent simply sighed, disappointed. "I had prayed we wouldn''t have to settle our disagreements in this manner. But alas." He turned around and walked away as he raised two fingers moved them across his neck. "Kill them."


    Afterward, three soldiers who stood in front of Caine screamed and began to rush toward the scout with their swords held high and eyes filled with killing intent. Xhiamas quickly looked back at the town hall where Wyatt and the two stood, ready and waiting.


    "Try not to die just yet." He whispered to them. Without a moment''s hesitation, he quickly reached into his pouch and threw something small at the head of one of the soldiers. The fellow then slowly began to stop moving and dropped dead to the ground with a loud thud. The sound of flesh crashing onto a solid surface rang throughout the center. Caine stopped to take a look and saw a throwing knife embedded in one of the eye sockets of the unlucky victim. He nodded in approval. "Impressive aim you have there," he remarked. "Most of you focus on killing him. The three idiots in the back are easy pickings. Pick whichever one you like and bring me their heads after you''re finished."


    He commanded his squad as he headed off into the crowd of merchants and buyers, disappearing. Wyatt, Hawk, and Cassian immediately ran to help Xhiamas who was now being targeted by over a dozen green cloaks equipped with either swords, maces, or spears.


    For the first time, they were about to fight for their lives. The three of them also bore witness to how their former cellmate would fight. They expected him to be good in combat but were even more surprised when they saw him in action. He had finally used the custom-designed dagger that he had strapped onto his left thigh. In their time together, he had never drawn the weapon before, so seeing it for the first time was another experience by itself.


    The dagger was of foreign design. Its hilt was made out of strange metal and decorated leather from an animal that they had never encountered before, even Hawk, who was familiar with different beasts due to the time he spent traveling Primera. Its blade was instead, a large, chipped fang of an unknown monster. Despite his disadvantage in his defenses, Xhiamas dodged and weaved each strike and attack made by the green cloaks. The man never stopped moving, and the number of people he had killed kept on increasing. Each time a sword was to strike him by his blind spot, he would parry it with ease. Even without looking, he would spin back into a more advantageous position.


    "Xhiamas! Look out!" Hawk screamed as he spotted a green cloak on a window with a bow and arrow in hand, already ready and aiming at him as he was dealing with his opponents.


    The scout simply smiled as he retrieved something from his pouch with his right hand and threw small, black objects no more than six feet into the air. With one swift motion, he struck at them with such force that they exploded, catching his opponents and his companions off guard while the rest of the civilians screamed and panicked, retreating into the safety of their homes or away from the battle.


    Smoke filled the area where Xhiamas had stood, making it hard to see. Hawk quickly nocked his bow and shot at the green cloak, hitting him by the neck, killing him almost instantly as his body fell out of the window and crashed onto an abandoned stand of a merchant, ending his misery. The green cloaks were on edge as they realized that this man was in a different league than them. "Where is he?!" A soldier screamed. "I don''t know, keep an eye out!"


    "Over there! He''s over there!" All eyes turned toward an alleyway where Xhiamas was standing, unbothered. "Is this the best that you can do?" He taunted them as he picked a cloth and cleaned his fanged dagger with it, leaving it ripped and shredded after he was done. "You know, being soldiers of a great house, you are not that great. At least entertain me." He smiled at the soldiers, leaving them furious and embarrassed. "We''ll gut you like a fish!" A good portion of them headed toward where he was standing.


    "I''ll meet you at the port, my friends!" Xhiamas shouted at the trio, who were now back-to-back and were being circled by five soldiers. "See you soon!" He ran into the alleyway as most green cloaks followed in pursuit, leaving Wyatt, Hawk, and Cassian to fend for themselves.


    "The others are idiots. These three should be easy enough," a green cloak who wielded a sword muttered. "Agreed. Let''s get this over with already." Said another as his flail swayed back and forth. The other three merely looked at them, being careful not to take the trio lightly. "Well...here goes nothing." Cassian took a deep breath and charged at the sword wielder.


    "C''mon, you!" He screamed as his opponent did the same.


    Hawk swapped to a dagger and steadied himself. "Divines, protect me. Let''s get this over with then." He muttered under his breath as the soldier with the flail began to approach him, his flail now swinging faster and faster.


    Wyatt was now left to himself. In front of him were three soldiers. He never knew their faces nor their names, but the idea of having to kill them left a bad taste in his mouth. There was a thin line between his moral conscience and logical mind. He knew there was no way out of this as he had already concluded that this was their truth. He had come to terms with the idea that it was either they would kill or be killed. He gripped the heavy war hammer tightly and pondered that everything was only a nightmare. However, the boy quickly snapped back to reality as one of them swung a sword downwards at him.


    Wyatt defended against the blow using the long, metal handle of the hammer but the soldier wasted no time on the attack. He swung again at Wyatt''s head, forcing him to avoid getting decapitated on the spot. "Nice weapon you got there, boy. Too bad you don''t know how to use it." Wyatt, who was still on one knee, immediately swung the war hammer upwards with surprising force and speed, catching the soldier off guard as the blow would have immediately shattered his skull. "Didn''t expect that from you! How''d you do that?" The soldier stepped back as both combatants gained their bearings and went back to fight.


    The entire scenario was a painting of danger and disorder. Cassian utilized his weapons with all the strength that he could muster as he used his sword in his attempts to inflict damage. When that failed, he resorted to his shield and bashed his opponent instead whenever he got the chance. The latter tactic provided better results, but each time he was on the offensive, he caught cuts and bruises along the way as well. The two were evenly matched at the time, but one would eventually give in.


    On the other side of the town center, Hawk already knew that his bow and arrows were useless at close range and decided to use the environment and his agility to his advantage instead. The man planned to escape death by making his opponent miss every attack, attempting to wear him out during the process.


    "Stand still!" The soldier roared as Hawk managed to dodge the flail''s dangerous swings. He was able to damage his opponent by finding chinks in his armor, thrusting his dagger into an opening or two, leaving the green cloak screaming in pain. They eventually found themselves near the destroyed wooden stand that Hawk''s target from earlier had fallen onto, with blood gushing out of the punctured area, which dyed the nearby items and cloth in a crimson, red color. The green cloak was significantly exhausted from the fight and in a desperate attempt before collapsing, flung his weapon at Hawk who was caught off guard, but had managed to ward off most of the blow by picking up a wooden plank on time which successfully protected him from a lethal injury, but was enough to knock him backward, dropping him on top of the dead body, leaving him dazed.


    As the others were fighting for their survival, Wyatt was too. He relentlessly swung the war hammer against his opponent, who dodged his attacks, rendering Wyatt''s offense as a waste of energy. He''s planning to wear me out, Wyatt thought to himself as he too, knew that this method wouldn''t be enough to take the green cloak down. His energy was slowly fading with each strike.


    The soldier stepped in now and then to take him down but Wyatt was able to escape the danger of the sword by using either the front of the heavy end or by using the metal handle itself to block the attacks. They were enough to keep him alive, but not enough to escape wounds as now and then he would receive cuts from his opponent. They were shallow enough to not be lethal but if this were to continue then he would be in even more danger. From time to time he would catch glimpses of how Cassian and Hawk were doing.


    He saw Hawk slowly regaining his footing against his opponent, who was left with nothing but his fists. Cassian was in a worse condition however as Wyatt saw him crawl for his shield that was a few feet from where he was now, but his opponent still had his sword and was already making his way toward him, sensing the opportunity for a killing blow.


    "Hawk!" Wyatt screamed at his friend, who turned in their direction and instantly understood what was happening.


    "You''re getting distracted, boy!" His opponent shouted as he landed a clean hit onto Wyatt''s face, knocking him down to the ground. His hammer dropped with a loud thud, and the green cloak kneeled on the ground and grabbed Wyatt by the throat, choking him and cutting off what little air he had left in his body. "We''ll not make your deaths easy. We''re going to tie you up, and drag your bodies back to Rosetown bruised and broken, where eventually you''ll be hanged." Wyatt''s face was turning into an uncomfortable shade of blue as his vision blurred. The green cloak smiled in success, as his prey was finally drawing its last breath.


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    Wyatt''s vision blackened. However, before he could pass out the deathly grip was released. He coughed blood and breathed in deep. When he came to he saw that Cassian had tackled down his opponent, and the two were now locked in a messy fistfight on the ground. He glanced in the opposite direction and saw that the green cloak that Cassian had fought was now dead with an arrow sticking out behind his head. Hawk''s opponent was also found dead with a dagger sticking out of his neck. After killing his enemy, he was able to shoot Cassian''s opponent down and was now heading toward their direction, but had difficulty in doing so as he was clutching his right leg, seemingly suffering an injury from earlier. Wyatt looked back at Cassian and saw that one of the two remaining green cloaks who had yet to fight was now making his way toward him.


    "C-Cassian..." Wyatt called out weakly in an attempt to warn him but failed as his strength had yet to fully return. He was able to move out of pure adrenaline, but he did not know when this would last. He picked up his war hammer and immediately hobbled his way to Cassian, who was now engaged in a deadly exchange as the two were now wrestling for control over a dagger that Cassian kept strapped to his thigh. The struggle was intense as the two exchanged punches and elbows. In a stroke of luck, Cassian grabbed a hold of the dagger and immediately stabbed the hand of Wyatt''s opponent which gave him the advantage, and immediately slit his throat, ending his agony.


    The celebrations wouldn''t last long however as the fresh green cloak was already at Cassian''s position and punted him, effectively knocking him out cold. Wyatt desperately made an attempt at attacking and swung at the soldier, but failed as the soldier was able to dodge and kick Wyatt in the stomach, making him fall on his knees as the hammer dropped to the ground again. The boy was feeling a sensation that he had never felt before. Every inch of his body was seared with pain as his heart pumped faster than ever before. He wanted to vomit but was not able to. The soldier stared down at him, grinning from ear to ear.


    "We underestimated you three," he spoke to Wyatt. "You were able to take out three of us. You lacked technique given the way you three fought but a soldier is a soldier. Taking one down without experience is no easy feat, even if the three of them were less trained than us. This makes you dangerous," he continued as he looked at the war hammer next to Wyatt, standing in a vertical position. "This thing''s a beauty, let me tell you that much. If you knew how to use it, then we''d be dead already. I''ll honor your memory by killing you with your hammer. Nothing personal, lad." He then began to grasp the weapon with both hands, ready to deliver the finishing blow.


    Seconds passed, yet nothing happened. The soldier grunted and seemed perplexed. "Stop playing with your food and be done with it already," his comrade quipped. "I''m trying but this hammer ain''t moving an inch!" he complained as he attempted to lift it again. The soldier was unable to lift the weapon to even only a few feet off the ground. "What''s this thing made out of? How in the seven hells did this brat manage to move around like that?" He muttered, confused.


    The other began to speak his opinion but was cut off short as something else caught his attention. "Watch out!" He screamed to his fellow green cloak. Not a second went by, an arrow flew across the air and hit the soldier on the shoulder, making him drop the hammer and cry out loud in agony. "Fucking bastard!" He yelled out in pain. Wyatt looked out behind him and true enough, he saw Hawk clutching his bow. He was near enough to fire a shot, but the man was already at his limits. Only a few moments later, he slowly dropped to the ground but was still persistent enough to drag himself toward Wyatt and Cassian.


    Wyatt saw this as the perfect opportunity and he grabbed the war hammer with both hands, they felt heavy but unlike the soldier, he was able to carry the weight. He immediately stood up and thrust the war hammer onto the soldier''s chest, knocking him down on the ground. The green cloak found difficulty in breathing after the heavy blow. After that thrust, Wyatt immediately assumed that his opponent''s ribs were fractured or worse, broken and may have punctured one of his lungs as he immediately noticed that he was already coughing up blood. Attempting to end his misery, Wyatt screamed as he lifted the hammer and swung downwards with all his might as he smashed the green cloak''s head, the area now a mess of blood, brains, and broken bones.


    Only Wyatt and one green cloak remained. It was a miracle that they survived this far, but one obstacle still stood in their path. A green cloak was still standing, all fresh and ready. This one was different from the others as he observed the fights since the beginning and practically knew every move the three of them had in their arsenal. To make matters worse, Cassian was still unconscious on the ground after a punt to the head and Hawk was incapacitated because of an injured leg. This meant that their survival was on Wyatt''s shoulders.


    "This shitshow ends now," the green cloak drew his weapon. "I''m not going to take it easy on you, boy. Fuck the prison, you three are going straight down to the seven hells right now." Wyatt braced himself for the soldier''s upcoming attack as he thought of a way to beat him.


    The soldier was about to strike when a strong wind blew across the town center, knocking back countless wares as pieces of wood flew everywhere. Wyatt and the green cloak could barely keep their balance, while Hawk and Cassian were forcefully moved back from where they were. The two then looked back at each other, eager to continue the fight when suddenly the green cloak was hit behind the head by a person who had used a wine goblet, knocking down the soldier with such force that he was on his knees, dazed while the goblet was dented beyond recognition.


    "Now that, is what I call entertainment." Wyatt looked up and saw Lord Dunwick giving him a round of applause and grinning.


    "L-Lord Dunwick? What was--why did--" Wyatt had so many questions as to what just happened, but the boy was unable to muster up even a sentence. "I asked you earlier to prove me wrong, did I not?" Lord Dunwick asked him.


    "Y-yes you did milord," Wyatt replied. "Well then, here we are. You proved me wrong. You proved to me that you are indeed the Ironclad''s son and displayed a performance worthy of your father''s legacy. Seeing the three of you fight these bastards brought back a few good memories," He kicked the soldier on the back, causing him to cough in pain as the warden let out a hearty laugh.


    Wyatt heard a groan nearby and saw that Cassian had already regained consciousness. "My head hurts like hell...what happened? How long was I out for?" Wyatt immediately ran toward him.


    "Cassian, Cassian! Thanks for earlier, but right now Hawk needs us," they looked in the other direction and saw that Hawk was conscious but was not able to get up and move. "Shit--Hawk!" The two of them immediately headed to where their friend was and helped him up, with Hawk groaning in agony. He placed his arms over Wyatt and Cassian''s shoulders. "Seven hells..." He complained. "I might have strained a muscle--my right leg is killing me." He continued as they slowly made their way to where Lord Dunwick was.


    "We''ll get you something cold for your leg. Let me handle your treatment later. For now, try not to put any pressure on there." Cassian reassured Hawk as they were now back in front of Lord Dunwick.


    "Now, since I was wrong, I will be making good on my word. You''ll be granted safe passage from here on out. However, I advise you to use another route," the warden suggested to the trio. "If you plan on using the Onohill River and travel from here you will be back into enemy territory once you pass through the nearby woods, and I cannot protect you nor do anything if you were to do so. The Turtle Stream provides a slower, yet safer route to Gillsberry as it runs through my lands. If memory serves me correctly, it will merge with the river Onohill, and by then, you will only be half an hour to your destination."


    "How long would the journey take?" Hawk asked. "If you were to follow your original route, then Gillsberry would only be a day and a half away, but with this new route, it will take three additional days before merging with the river Onohill." Wyatt looked at Cassian and the two immediately understood the situation.


    "We have to take Lord Dunwick''s advice. We are in no condition to fight. Also, Hawk needs the extra days to heal himself." They looked at him, who was coughing and focusing his weight on one leg. "Then the three of you must go now," the three of them thanked the warden for his generosity and began to turn toward the port.


    "H-hold on, we ain''t finished yet..." the soldier was on his feet, still dazed, but his weapon was clutched in his hand.


    "You''re mistaken, boy. I think you''ve reached the end of the line." Lord Dunwick whispered menacingly into the green cloak''s ear, stopping him in his tracks. Wyatt and company could feel the wind howling and the temperature slowly dropping as if an anomaly was coming. The soldier turned around and out of instinct, ripped apart the warden''s robe, revealing his true clothing of scaled light armor adorned with the feathers of Primera''s western eagles. The sigil of House Browgan was pinned onto his upper left chest plate, and the ancient ducal signet of authority was clear for the four of them to see.


    The soldier stood shocked and stumbled back in fear. He then knelt on both knees and bowed down, realizing what he had done. "M-m-milord Dunwick! M-m-my deepest apologies! I did not know that it was you! I swear it upon my life! Upon the old gods and the Divines!" the soldier stuttered in terror as the warden looked down at him, clearly displeased. "Please, spare me! I swear that I did not intend for this to happen!"


    "I know that you did not, lad. I''m a calm and reasonable person," Lord Dunwick responded as he slowly began to walk back toward the town hall. "S-so...does that mean that I''m free?" the soldier asked, hopeful that he would be able to escape the warden''s wrath. "Of course. I will not punish you; you were merely acting out of that bastard''s orders," he replied as he turned to face the soldier. "However, I cannot say that these people share the same mercy as I do."


    Moments later, the crowd from earlier had returned with angry expressions on their faces. The soldier was at a loss for words. Wherever he looked, not a single soul showed a face of sympathy. "You see, you green cloaks fail to understand one thing about Shire''s Eye. The power here belongs to whoever pays the most. Of course, they will follow every command as long as the price is right and business will be business, but the one thing that they hate is when people disturb their work. Trade and money are what make this place alive. Unfortunately, you green bastards disturbed that work, and now everybody is behind schedule." The head of House Browgan began to grasp the doors as the crowd began to swarm the soldier who cried out for mercy.


    "Milord, please! Mercy!" he pleaded, tears running down his face. "I am sorry lad, but I want you to know that I never intended for this to happen." Lord Dunwick replied as he closed the doors shut. Wyatt, Hawk, and Cassian continued toward the port as the wailed screams of torture echoed and drowned out behind them.


    It had taken them some time, but the three eventually found their way back to the port where they found Xhiamas taking a bite out of an apple, already waiting for them. From the looks of it, it seems as if he disposed of the green cloaks for a good while. They also spotted someone next to him. That must be Flint. Wyatt thought. Sure enough, his thoughts were confirmed as he spotted the eyepatch and blue cloth that Lord Dunwick had described. Flint gestured at Xhiamas to turn around.


    "Well, it seems that you took your sweet time--" Xhiamas immediately stopped joking around as he saw the condition that the three of them were in, especially Hawk. "We must go. Now." He told Flint, who had already prepared the boat in advance. Wyatt thought that the boat would be smaller in size, but it turns out that the boat was bigger and more sleek than the average ferry--good enough for seven people at most and based on the design, would move faster than normal.


    "The supplies are already here," Flint informed the three of them. "Place him down where he can relax his leg. What happened?" he asked. "He got injured during his fight. Told us that he might have extended his leg--most likely strained it, at best." Cassian replied to which Flint pointed to a small container at the back of the boat. "That one contains ice, go treat him now." Cassian immediately went to work and finished the treatment as Flint and company moved the ferry and rowed toward the direction where the river Onohill and the Turtle Stream were located. As Shire''s Eye was disappearing from sight, the movement of the ferry picked up as the waters were now slowly entering areas where the natural stream would now take over for the people rowing.


    "Xhiamas--change of plans. Lord Dunwick advised us to use the Turtle Stream instead. Hawk needs time to rest, and patrols will be scouring the borders of Polifio territory after what happened today," Wyatt explained. Xhiamas nodded in agreement as he saw the condition the three of them were in. "I am sorry for not going back for you three after I killed those who chased me. Never again." He apologized as Cassian moved his way toward the group and sat down while Flint steered the boat toward the Turtle Stream.


    "How is Hawk doing?" Xhiamas asked. "He is in bad condition--but he will live," Cassian replied. "We need to get to that hideout soon." Xhiamas silently nodded as he stared out in front of them. The path ahead was now clear: the lake had begun to split into two streams. Flint joined them and he sat down. "Well, it seems like we''ll be stuck here for a while. The name is Flint. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance," he introduced himself. "Now, you seem like an interesting bunch of people. What are your stories?"


    Wyatt was eager to share their story with another person who they could trust, but before he could start, they heard a whizzing sound pierce through the air, followed by something heavy crashing into the water.


    "What was that?!" Wyatt screamed as he looked around the area, but as he turned, a sense of dread and fear filled his entire being.


    "Hawk!" He screamed as they saw Hawk''s unconscious body floating across the river, dyeing it red, and into the raging Onohill stream. "Flint, turn us around now!"


    "Even if I wanted to I can''t! We''re too far into the stream now! We risk this boat getting destroyed if I do so!" Flint replied. Cassian sat in silence while Wyatt panicked as he thought about what they should do next. However, Xhiamas never bothered to look at where Hawk was, for another caught his attention.


    On the nearby shore, he spotted a glistening armor which gave away the person''s location. He was on horseback and had a bow in hand. Despite the distance between them, Xhiamas could point out that it was none other than Caine Dewblossom himself. Aside from the metal armor and green cloak, the dead giveaway was the same, malicious smile he gave to Xhiamas and rest earlier in the day.


    "Bastard." Xhiamas muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with anger. For the first time in a long while, someone was finally able to break his calm demeanor. The party was left in shambles as they now entered the Turtle Stream. Hawk''s fate was left unknown, his bruised and beaten body floating on the Onohill river, straight into enemy territory.

 Ch. 11 -- Gillsberry and The Whiteflower

    Godric, accompanied by Anar¨®r? and her most trustworthy patrol trekked through the vast and vibrant woods of the great elven king Ithilien. He had informed them beforehand that he was not on friendly terms with the Houses located north of the king''s domain, and they collectively decided on traversing through the forests instead as it provided them safety and cover from the prying eyes of those who wanted the boy dead. Godric originally thought that the journey would take longer than expected given the circumstances, however, they surprisingly progressed a considerable amount of distance; mainly because of the elves'' knowledge of the area and that the forest itself was a natural wall that separated two other Great Houses from the race of Men, with one of the two being House Polifio.


    After a long while, they had finally found themselves on the edge of where House Alastrassa''s realm would end. The princess then raised her hand, signaling the entire company to stop.


    "We''re here," Anar¨®r? said as she turned to look at Godric. "This is as far as we can go. We''ve done all we can to guide you here as instructed, but from here on out after you take a single step out of these woods you will be crossing the lands of Men, and we can help you no longer." She then signaled her squadron to turn back deep into the woods, leaving the two alone. Anar¨®r? was the last to move as she stared at Godric with a blank expression on her face, she waited until the last of her kind was out of sight, then finally turned and began to walk away.


    "Wait," Godric called out to her, stopping Anar¨®r? in her tracks. "I don''t mean to take up too much of your time and this might be the last time we will ever speak again, so at least humor me with an answer. Do you hate me?" he asked her, which made the princess sigh and bow down her head in silence.


    "I do not hate you, Godric. I envy you." She finally answered, leaving Godric stunned at her answer.


    Why? He asked himself. Why would someone such as Anar¨®r? be envious of me? Before he could ask for the meaning behind her words, the elf had already disappeared, leaving Godric alone aside from his weapon and satchel. An uneasy feeling washed over him. He knew that there was something more to her answer. If he were to be honest with himself, he found that mysterious and brooding side of her annoying. A moment or two had passed until he finally brushed away all those thoughts, as he had to stay focused. There was still a task to be done. He then walked toward the edge of the woods and stepped onto the main road, acknowledging that he was finally on his own and that his quest had begun.


    <hr>


    He was unfamiliar with the lands beyond his hometown but the map that the elves had provided before they departed from Mistveil Forest helped him with this problem. The parchment was marked with the names of the roads, rivers, towns, and castles of Men which were written in the tongue of the elves, but Godric found this to be not too bothersome as his lessons with l¨®m? taught him a trick or two. With a simple manipulation of mana onto the parchment, the words shifted and changed shape into the language he grew up with. He smiled for a bit, as he felt proud of himself for reaching this far and carried that spirited, cheery thought with him as he started to depart toward his destination which was still a daunting distance away.


    He encountered a few people along the way who greeted him. Godric thought he would be raising suspicion on the spot due to his elven-made robes that hid his armor and weapons beneath, but those he encountered treated him as any other would. They must have already seen their fair share of adventurers and travelers. Hours went by, and he continued to traverse the road despite the potential dangers, as it was the fastest way toward the cavern. He hadn''t grown accustomed to the land itself as well, for they were far from the flowery fields and farmlands of the Polifios. He thought he had grown accustomed to new things as he spent almost four to five fortnights in Mistveil Forest, but the world never ceased to amaze him.


    Time passed, and the night was almost upon him, but in the distance, he saw specks of light coming from a few houses. He looked at his map to confirm his whereabouts. "If I am correct then Gillsberry lies ahead of me," he said to himself as he looked at the sky that slowly turned dark and gloomy, signifying that rain was about to pour.


    I must hurry now.


    Without hesitation, he set aside the paper and immediately quickened his pace, hoping to reach the town before the weather caught up to him.


    The rain consumed the land moments later, soaking Godric''s entire body and clothing while a few drops of water trickled onto his armor. It wasn''t long until he eventually reached the small town that looked abandoned and dark. He immediately looked for a place to stay, scanning his surroundings, until he saw a building that would serve as his quarters for the night.


    The Whiteflower, it was named. It was larger compared to the other structures and was well-designed too. Godric could see flashes of light inside signaling activity, and bustling noises of both men and women. He then entered and found the inn bursting with activity; a complete contrast to the world found outside.


    Songs were sung, food was being served and consumed at every table and not a single hand in the room was without a mug of ale. "Another round of ale here!" a stranger shouted. "More meat stew and bread on ours as well!" another from the opposite side of the inn chimed in. Godric observed every face and noticed that some were not of Primera. He squeezed through the chaotic mess of people who sang and danced along to the bard''s composition.


    "Excuse me," he said to the innkeeper after he reached the end where a man had stood behind a bar. "I''d like to rent a room for the night if any is still available." Godric studied him more carefully and was surprised. He was an old soul, most likely in his late seventies. His body was frail and had scars all over. From the looks of how he approached Godric, he also seemed to have difficulty walking on one leg as he limped. Despite his worn-out features, the man wore the brightest smile. Amidst the singing, the dancing, and the joyful chaos inside the inn, it felt like he radiated happiness the most; almost as if he had already reached a level of contentment that every other soul in the room had hoped to achieve in life.


    "And how can I help you, lad?" The old man asked Godric. "I-I''d like a room please, provided that there''s still any available," he responded louder this time as he took out two gold coins and put them in front of the man.


    "I suppose these would do?" The old man then looked at the stairway, which was crowded with people. "Not to worry as you''re in luck: there''s still a room left. Head up the stairs until you reach the window, and enter the last room on the right. That one''s yours." He tucked the gold coins into his pouch and took out a key.


    "Here''s the key. Hold on to it and give it back before you plan on going. If you plan on staying longer, pay a coin before returning to your room the night before you want to sleep," the old man instructed Godric who nodded at his instructions. He looked at the stairway and saw it was filled with hunters.


    "Are you always this busy, old man?" Godric asked the innkeeper who chuckled at his remark. "Absolutely lad. I used to think I would get used to all this rabble, yet despite my years of seeing all kinds of things, I keep getting surprised by the young ones. Oh, what I''d pay to be young again." He sighed but coughed hard afterward, which caught Godric''s attention.


    "Sorry to ask but are you sick by any chance?" Godric asked him.


    "Bah! It''s nothing, lad. A young one like you shouldn''t be concerned with the problems of us old folk. Although truth be told, it would be nice for me to join the great hunt tomorrow one last time." The old man answered as he stared off into the fireplace, his eyes wandering toward a distant memory.


    "The great hunt?" Godric asked. "Sorry, I''m new to these parts. Could you tell me what that is?"


    "Oh, you''re new to Gillsberry? Where are my manners--welcome to our humble abode, lad. There''s nothing much to say about our town except that we''re merely home to The Whiteflower, this beauty of a treasure constructed over two hundred years ago." The old man narrated to Godric who listened intently.


    "Simply put, the great hunt is a local event held on the vast lands of House Huntingborne once every quarter of a century. Every twenty-five years, legions of wild animals and beasts migrate from place to place in search of a new home or for food. Most of the spirited folk you see here are hunters from different parts of Primera. Some of them even come from neighboring continents. The tradition started about nine hundred years ago. Back then, only the Houses Huntingborne and those who served under their banner participated in it, but as our culture expanded, knowledge of the event attracted other people, and of course--if you are a true huntsman, who are you to resist the call of the wild?" The old man rattled as the noises of singing and dancing surrounded them.


    "Well then, why aren''t they sleeping now?" Godric asked. "Shouldn''t they be well rested and prepared for what lies ahead?" He asked, confused at what he saw.


    "That''s the beauty of it lad. They know they should be resting, but they''re choosing not to. I''ve joined the hunt two times already, as you can see. When the hunt begins, we do not know what beasts we encounter. We go in with the idea of being the predators, but might turn into prey at any moment." He filled two mugs of ale and handed one over to Godric who immediately drank it halfway. "We know that our chances of dying are high, and so we celebrate this life as we see fit on the nights before the hunt begins, knowing that we gave it our all before falling to whatever beast awaits us. Glory in death, lad." The old man gulped down his ale in one swift motion.


    "Ahhh... that hit the spot. Want another?" he asked Godric, who politely declined the offer. "Well, more for me then. Bwahaha!" He laughed but coughed hard again, cursing under his breath. Godric felt bad for the man, but he could not do anything in the state that he was now. He altered his sight using mana and saw the innkeeper''s glow. The innkeeper''s light was a dirty shade of white, blurry and faded; a stark contrast to the others who radiated a bright, radiant hue. Godric knew he wouldn''t last much longer until his sickness was cured.


    "Thanks for the drink, by the way." Godric reached out and attempted to place a gold coin on the table, but the innkeeper refused the payment.


    "No need lad--this one''s on me," he smiled at Godric who responded with one of his in kind. "I''ll be off to sleep now," The old man waved him off as Godric climbed up the steps, passing by strangers from left to right. "Excuse me, make way please." The boy said as he headed toward his room.


    He noticed that not everyone joined in on the festivities. As he headed toward his room, he noticed a few open doors. He caught glimpses of others in the loving embrace of their respective lovers. He saw a person or two pray to their gods. He even saw others who slept through the noise that resonated from below. Godric silently walked on the wooden floor, careful not to disrupt their evening, and eventually found himself at the end of the hallway where his room was found.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Before he entered, Godric noticed that the room across his was slightly open, and caught sight of a bruised and bloody man being tended to by a girl who seemed to be only a few years younger than Godric. He stopped for a minute and watched as she cleaned his wounds delicately. A moment came when she turned in his direction and briefly locked eyes with him, causing the two of them to blush. The maiden quickly moved to fetch a fresh batch of linen while Godric awkwardly turned around to unlock his room and entered, feeling surprisingly flustered.


    Despite the price, the room was better than he had expected. It had a well-made bed, enough space to move around, and a functioning faucet. I can see why this place is always full. He thought to himself. After removing his cloak that covered his armor and weapon, he locked the door and hung his bag onto the door handle. He removed his boots and slowly nestled onto the bed, eventually drifting into a deep slumber.


    <hr>


    Morning came, and Godric woke up feeling well-rested and in a good mood. It was a refreshing thought for him, waking up to the idea that he wouldn''t be meditating for hours on end with l¨®m?, or being beaten until he was on the verge of dying because of Anar¨®r?. It was not that he did not find their sessions useless--it was the complete opposite of this thought. He only missed the feeling of not being restricted to doing the same thing again, which was, in many ways, liberating.


    He washed his face and suited up for the journey ahead. He planned on eating downstairs first before he continued and wanted to say his goodbyes to the innkeeper. Godric opened the door to his room and found the hallway full of sleeping people, still drunk from last night. Godric sighed and looked at where he was stepping on, being careful not to disturb them. As he walked down the stairs, he heard huddled noises coming from an open door just behind the innkeeper''s counter.


    He slowly made his way and the noises became clear enough for him to understand what was happening.


    "How''s he holding up?" a voice asked. "Not good. From the looks of things, he has a week left at most if the Divines were generous enough," Godric entered the room and saw a group of hunters surrounding the old man, who lay coughing and wheezing on a bed. Sitting in front of him was the blonde-haired girl he encountered last night. Her eyes were swollen from crying, with her face full of concern as she wiped his forehead and chin with a wet cloth.


    The old man slowly reached out and patted her head, attempting to comfort her. "Worry not, sweet child..." he spoke weakly. "I might not be able to go out the way I wanted to, but your presence comforts me greatly. Knowing that you''re here, I know that this place will be in good hands when I pass--" he was cut off short as he began to cough hard again, staining the cloth with blood as the girl attempted to help him.


    A hunter stepped between the two, pressing her hand on his forehead. She then followed through with a worried look on her face. "His fever is getting worse. I''ll do what I can to ease his pain, but you''ll have to find a remedy soon. Otherwise, we might lose him faster than expected."


    "But where do we even start? We''ve been looking for a cure for the old man for five autumn seasons now, and we still haven''t come close to finding a cure!" another remarked, frustrated. "We''ve searched every corner of Primera, and have asked countless medical practitioners, but the only thing we were able to do was to prolong the old man''s agony." The room fell silent as the girl rushed out of the inn, passing by Godric. She sobbed as tears flowed from her eyes.


    <hr>


    Godric followed in pursuit and found her weeping at the nearby stables. He slowly approached her while thinking of a way to comfort the girl. "Hello there," he began to speak, catching the girl by surprise. "N-no! I''m sorry, I didn''t mean to startle you. I saw what happened there earlier. Are you okay?" he asked as the girl wiped the tears from her face and tried her best to stop herself from crying.


    "I''m fine, t-thank you for asking," she responded weakly. "I''m sorry that you had to see me like this. I''m usually a more cheerful person, I promise you, but happiness is hard to find nowadays. My name is Coraline, Coraline Appleway." She courteously introduced herself to him by fixing herself up and curtsying.


    "Godric of Rosetown, at your service," He replied, bowing down.


    "You have no house to your name?" Coraline asked, curious about his status. "I''m afraid not, milady. I was born without a house to claim me. I was found on a floating crib near the riverbanks of Rosetown, and have since called that place my home. Well, at this time not anymore." He corrected himself, as he forgot his situation for a moment.


    "Oh, I see. Well, it''s very nice to meet you, Godric," she said as she began to turn toward the inn. "I should get going, I have to tend to the old man. I wish you luck on your journey, and may the Divines guide you." She began to walk away, but Godric reached out and softly grabbed her hand, startling the girl. "Wait," he said. "I want to help him. Can you tell me what happened to him in the first place?"


    Coraline took her hand from Godric''s grasp and looked at him, wondering whether or not she would need to burden another soul.


    "His ailment started back when he joined his second hunt," she answered Godric. A tone of sadness was present in her voice. "It happened when he and his party hunted near the mountain ranges. They were looking for beasts but found none that suited their fancy. If I recall correctly, they only found an eerie cavern. A woman''s voice called out to them and without hesitation, he said he felt compelled to walk towards the source. A few moments later, he said his entire party along with him were knocked unconscious. The moment he woke up he remembered nothing but felt a stinging pain in his leg. However as he attempted to exit the cavern, he was terrified to see that his fellow hunters were found dead--their bodies mutilated and disfigured. He immediately returned here and swore to exact revenge but never got a chance to do so as the pain turned into a sickness which changed him forever."


    Upon hearing her story, a thought passed in Godric''s head. He hoped that if the old man had indeed come across the caverns of Araphne, and if he came across the Witch, he might be able to get answers and somehow find a way to cure him.


    "Did he say anything about where this cavern might be found?" Godric asked. "He once warned us about going to the foot of the mountain range past the ancient city of Stagvalley, where the animals are scarce."


    Godric thanked her. "I see. Do you have any horses that you could spare? I have money," he asked. "Surely you do not plan on entering the caverns?" Coraline asked, concerned that she might have already sent Godric to his death. "Rest easy, Coraline. My true destination is still very far, and I require a companion." He lied, as he had full intention of entering the caverns. He wanted to hide his real intention as to why he was here and spare her the details of his past.


    "Well... I suppose it wouldn''t hurt if I gave you Cloud," Coraline responded. "He is one of our fastest and strongest horses, however, we have had trouble in finding someone who can tame him. I have a feeling though that you might be able to." She said as she touched her hair.


    Coraline asked Godric to follow him to the other side of the stables where they found a white horse with streaks of black lines across his body. Godric glanced at the horse using his mana-imbued vision and saw the horse radiated with life. "Thank you, Coraline." He approached Cloud, and the animal responded aggressively, almost as if to say it did not like being mounted again.


    "Easy now, boy..." Godric carefully approached the horse this time and was able to cup his hands on the horse''s head. He looked into Cloud''s eyes and saw a fiery passion but also a tinge of sadness.


    "This horse... he had a rider before, didn''t he?" Coraline quietly nodded to confirm Godric''s suspicions.


    "He did. This horse belonged to the old man''s son who died five autumns ago. He was the only one bold enough to enter the caverns as he wanted to find a cure for his father, but he never returned," she said, sighing. "The old man waited and waited, but eventually accepted the truth. I was but a child back then, yet I still remember the old man weeping in his room almost every night, his cries drowning out the noise of the Whiteflower''s usual singing and dancing. The others you saw back there were his son''s companions, but they refused to join in on the search. After knowing what had happened, I do not know whether it was out of guilt or shame, but they eventually took on the mantle in finding the cure for the old man."


    "Where do you fit in all of this?" Godric asked her.


    "The old man saved my father''s life twenty-five autumns ago, in the last hunt. I would not be here in the first place if it wasn''t for his bravery. He keeps telling me that I owe him nothing, but I do," Coraline answered. "Eventually, I came to love the Whiteflower and its people so I decided to work under him instead. The old man was honored, and my family had no quarrels about it whatsoever--Father even visits the inn from time to time as well. It seems that the old man even treats me like his granddaughter." She began to tear up again, but quickly stopped herself from doing so.


    Godric looked at Cloud and calmed him down. He opened the gate to let the horse out and patted the horse. "Easy boy... I might not have the bravery of your former rider, but it would be an honor if you would accompany me on this journey." The horse seemed to understand him, and in the following moment, Godric had mounted the horse successfully.


    "I knew you could do it. I think he likes you already," Coraline smiled seeing Cloud having a rider again. Godric approached her and took out fifty gold coins from his pouch. "I know it''s not much." He said, which made the girl laugh.


    "This is already twice the amount for a horse. Surely you jest." She proclaimed.


    "I''m being serious," He then took out another ten gold coins and handed them to her, softly. "This is for the old man. If you can, send a rider out to Rosetown. Buy extracts of the Damali flower, and pour it in his drink. Hopefully, it will help null the pain and make it easier for him to sleep." Godric instructed her as he turned in the opposite direction. "We''ll be off now. Goodbye, Coraline Applewood." With a kick of his foot, he signaled Cloud to move, and the two took off as quick as lightning.


    "Wait, Godric!" Coraline shouted with all her might as she attempted to run after them. "That might be impossible!" She cried out, but the two were already far off in the distance, with only the autumn breeze left to accompany the girl.

 Ch. 12 -- The Caverns of Araphne

    Cloud fiercely galloped throughout the vast and beautiful open fields of House Huntingborne. The horse sounded happy. Being able to experience the joy of running again must have been intoxicating for him. The wind breezed through Godric''s brown hair, and he laughed after seeing Cloud after seeing the joy in his eyes.


    "You''ve missed this, haven''t you? Haha!" He signaled the horse to run faster, allowing them to enjoy the sweet, fresh breeze of the breathtaking plains.


    Their journey was far as they continued to travel for a long while, and Godric spotted animals and beasts of different kinds in the distance who were in the middle of migrating. He was astounded at the sight, as the beasts varied in size and proportion with a good number of them being bigger than a house, or wide enough to cover an entire river. He had never seen such beings before.


    The world is an amazing place, He thought to himself. If not for Wyatt''s sacrifice, I''d never would have lived to see this. Godric was saddened at the thought of remembering his friend. Deep down, he wished that Wyatt were still alive so that he could pay him back for what he did back then, but that wish was slowly fleeting away as he knew it was impossible considering how Rosetown''s guards were rotten to the bone. His friend was most likely dead by now. It was the bitter truth that he never wanted and could not swallow, but the more he thought of it, the idea became bearable but not enough to the point where it still did not hurt him deeply.


    He was also a wanted man, so returning to Polifio lands was a death sentence. Being in Gillsberry, despite only a few meters away from House Huntingborne''s territory, was a suicide in itself. He considered himself lucky to even be alive. The young man daydreamed about things that could have been.


    Godric was so lost in his thoughts when suddenly Cloud neighed loudly, snapping him back to his senses. The horse halted and he saw, in the distance, that an abnormality of an elephant was charging toward them. The animal had tusks the size of a fully grown tree, its size was bigger than the Whiteflower itself, with each foot big enough to flatten Godric and the horse. It was slow, but one swing could easily bring down an entire fortification as if it were made out of sticks.


    The ground quaked and trembled as it rampaged closer and closer to them. "By the Divines!" Godric cried out. "Those hunters are no joke! Are these the kind of monsters they find joy in killing? A sane person would flee at the mere sight of such beasts!" He immediately grabbed the reigns and signaled the horse to run in another direction to outmaneuver the beast, as Godric had no intention of being crushed to death.


    "Ride now, Cloud!" The horse neighed and followed his command, however, Cloud quickly ran toward the monster, which surprised Godric.


    "Cloud? What are you doing?" He was confused at the horse''s actions, as they were only a stone''s throw away from the beast that flailed its ginormous tusks and nose wildly. "Cloud!" He screamed and braced for impact as they were within reach of the abnormality, but the horse quickly sprinted underneath its body, dodging the tusks and nose. Within seconds, they were already a considerable distance away from danger. Godric let out a relieved breath as Cloud slowed down his pace. "You either must be mad, or brave!" He quipped.


    "You''re quite a spirited fellow. I think I''m now beginning to understand the bond you had with your former rider." He patted the horse on the head. "Let''s continue then. To the caverns, boy."


    As they continued their journey, Godric spotted people going in and out of the fortified, hilled city of Stagvalley, the ancient seat of House Huntingborne with its three-towered castle proudly standing out like a mountain in the middle. The young man stopped for a moment to admire the scenery. In the distance, he saw men on horseback who Godric recognized as part of the Great House''s legendary cavalry. The soldiers on strong horses ran freely across the fields, patrolling the area.


    Godric assumed that it was because they were making sure that no wild beast like the one they encountered earlier was within reach of the city. After a while, he came across a few men on horseback who waved at him, prompting Godric to stop and wait for them.


    They were dressed in light armor and leather, and their armored steeds were of impressive caliber. Draped over their armor was a long brown cloth with a deer embroidered. They stopped in front of Godric, showing no intent of violence.


    "We didn''t mean to halt your journey, traveler," one of them said, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. "Dreamers, hunters, and vagabonds are always welcome here in the sacred plains of Stagvalley. We are merely handing out a caution to those not of these lands."


    "And what would that be?" Godric asked.


    "The great hunt is drawing near, and the lady Tryst has picked up on something foul, but she does not plan on sending any men toward the source, as it normally disappears again after the Great Hunt ends." The other soldier replied.


    Godric was quiet for a few moments as he took the time to understand further the situation he would be in. House Huntingborne, known for their fierce cavalry, brave, free-spirited people, and legendary status, were aware of the danger lurking in their lands and now had opted to stay away from the trouble instead of facing it head-on.


    "Thank you for the warning, good sir. I''ll be sure to keep that in mind. I''ll be off now and hopefully, I''ll see you two again during the great hunt." Godric said as the soldiers smiled at the invitation. The blood of hunters truly ran in their veins, as it was evident on their faces.


    "It would be our honor, traveler." The soldiers nodded at Godric, then went back to resume their duties. Their horses were faster than Cloud despite the armor that covered their bodies.


    Godric continued to head toward the mountain ranges despite the warning given by the soldiers for he was already too far into this journey to back out. He stopped after some time to look at the map the elves gave, hoping he would find a nearby safe house.


    He observed that he was already too far from where they were, but an odd one stood out as it was marked near the mountain range. It was a peculiar place for a safe house considering its location and distance from the others, but it was near where the caverns were located. Without hesitation, he and Cloud traveled in that direction as fast as they could. The more they traveled, the stranger the beasts turned and the more wary he became.


    Hours passed, and the morning turned to afternoon. The two of them were almost at the mountain ranges. Godric ordered Cloud to move slower while he attempted to study the area around them. He was intrigued, for he noticed the animals in the area were sleeping or walking in all but one direction.


    As they approached, Cloud slowly began to act out of behavior, as he refused to head toward where the elven safe house was located. Godric attempted his best to calm the horse. This must be it, He thought to himself. The caverns are up ahead, along with the safe house. He got off Cloud and directed him to an area where other harmless animals were sleeping. "Here boy," he said. "Get some rest, you''ve earned it. I''ll be taking it from here." Cloud protested at first, but Godric was patient and calmed him down to the point where the horse slept soundly.


    He took off his cape, which fully revealed his armor and weapon, which gave off a slight green hue. Godric then began to walk toward where the stone mountains would meet the ground. The mountains even at the lowest elevation provided a breathtaking, yet imposing sight. He used his mana-imbued vision and saw that the entire area was painted grey. He walked for a few minutes, hoping to find even the slightest trace of mana. The lands below were dyed in grey except for one spot, which had a slight tinge of blue. It was located on a dangerous ledge that overlooked the surrounding fields, with the city of Stagvalley protruding on the horizon.


    "There it is." He said to himself. Godric carefully climbed to the spot and after he had arrived, noticed that the safe house was indeed invisible to the untrained eye, as it only stood out as a wall of jagged rocks and stone. Using his mana-imbued vision, he searched for a passageway and found a segment marked with an elvish symbol.


    "This must be it," Godric said as he firmly touched the mountainside and inhaled deeply.


    "Edro." The young man spoke the word taught to him by the elven prince.


    The world was silent, but within a few moments, the mountain began to shake as if something deep within had been activated. A section of the stone wall suddenly moved violently, slowly opening a doorway that revealed a passage that led downwards. Godric cautiously entered the dark area, and out of the corner of his eye, saw wood and coal which he used to make a torch. It lit up a small portion of his surroundings in an orange hue, revealing a stone interior with elvish carvings on the walls.


    Godric ventured deeper into the safe house. He placed his hand on one side of the wall to know where he was and noticed that there were candles that he could ignite to light up the place even more. He lit up each one, and soon the entire area was clear enough for him to see.


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    The place was decorated with barrels, a few beds, a weapon rack, a wooden chest, and finally a map posted on the stone wall that provided information about the fields of House Huntingborne. From the looks of things, Godric presumed that this was abandoned not too long ago. He checked the barrels and found cured meat and elvish bread inside. Feeling hungry, he decided to help himself with the food. After a brief rest, he opened the wooden chest and found a few dusty books, a generous amount of gold and silver coins, and precious gems.


    Rumagging through the chest, he took the coins and gems for future use and did not find any reason to decrypt the writings on the books as the first pages only spoke of the routine activities that the inhabitants of the safe house usually did. However, before he was about to close the chest, he noticed that one of the books had a piece of paper sticking out of it, and he saw a word written in the language of Men.


    Curious, he immediately picked up the book and carefully took the paper. The writing was shoddy, almost as if the person who wrote it had difficulty scribbling down the details in the first place.


    "It has been two days...elves took me here...spear was taken..." Godric attempted his best to read out the messy writing. "Cure has been found...flower...must go back...Father is waiting..." Godric gasped as he immediately dropped the paper. A spark lit up inside the young man.


    Could it be? He thought to himself.


    Without hesitation, he headed toward the weapon rack, and there, settled on the weapon rack, was a majestic spear of unmistakable human design. Godric grabbed the weapon and immediately ran out of the safe house. He rushed to the caverns which were close by as he reached out to the gods.


    "Divines, be merciful." He prayed.


    A thought ran in his mind that somehow, the old man''s son was still alive. His body was not present in the safe house and the spear was still in good condition. Godric hoped that he would be able to find him inside the caverns so that the both of them could get what they wanted. A few minutes passed, and he arrived at the entrance of the caverns. The smell was repulsive, as the area reeked of corpses and fear. Godric braced himself as he slowly and cautiously entered.


    As he entered, he immediately held Death''s Lament in one hand with the spear in the other. The caverns were cold and damp. He heard strange noises that came from deep within the earth. Droplets of water trickled down from sharp stalagmite rocks on the ceiling, far from his head. He maneuvered his way deeper inside, being careful not to make too much noise while being cautious of the pointed rocks that could fall and impale him at any moment.


    There was no need for a light source, as the caverns were home to the glowing fungi that Godric was familiar with. He recognized them instantly for they were native to Mistveil Forest which made Godric wonder whether this place was once a haven for elves in earlier times, before Men had come to take over and settle in the Huntingborne lands. The more he progressed, the noises became louder and the foul stench worsened as it clogged his sense of smell, but he continued nonetheless.


    He eventually found himself in an open area littered with the remains of the dead. A mixture of elvish, and human weaponry were scattered alongside bones and skulls of varying sizes.


    Godric walked cautiously while he inspected the broken-down armor, but the thing that stood out to him the most was a large, gaping hole that punctured through them. No human-made weapon would be capable of such destruction as the damage looked like it came from the stinger of a bee-like creature, which broke through the protection and based on the result, would have easily penetrated through skin and bone.


    He continued deep down into the pits and ventured far enough to reach a point where the route had now forked off into two directions. He stopped to relax, gather his wits, and retrace his steps, which fortunately enough he was still able to remember, but now he thought long and hard about how he should approach this situation.


    Godric pressed his back against the cold, damp stone and took time to think of a solution. "What now?" He asked himself. He thought long and hard, but soon a chilling observation left him quiet and somewhat nervous.


    Why is it so quiet? He thought to himself.


    I heard no voice asking for help, no wicked charm, nor did I feel any urge to enter the place against my will. Is my mind playing tricks on me, or is this part of the witch''s plan? Has it already placed me under a spell?


    He focused again and looked at the two passageways, yet still, he could not find an answer to this mystery. Moments later as he still contemplated on a decision, a horrifying noise echoed out from one of the two pathways, one that belonged to a beast that Godric was unfamiliar with. He steeled himself as it growled louder and louder, but to his surprise, another noise echoed through the caverns which rivaled the monster''s own, it sounded as if the two were in a struggle.


    The latter unmistakably was from a human. There was no doubt in his mind. "By the Divines, someone is alive!" Godric immediately rushed toward the source to assist in the fight. He marked down the route by forcefully slashing his sword on a huge stone, forming a noticeable mark that could assist him in finding the way out.


    By the time he arrived, the noises had already gone, signaling that the fight was already over. The area was darker, and a cold chill filled the air. On top of the carcass stood a figure who did considerable damage to the monster. The monster''s one eye bulged out of its now deformed socket. Its face was bashed beyond recognition, and its legs were crushed. Godric had difficulty seeing the culprit behind such violence, as no human would have been able to do such a thing. He now had doubts about whether this being was even human to begin with.


    Godric prepared himself for a fight, for this might finally be the Witch that many have warned him about.


    The being approached him, growling. "Show yourself!" He screamed. The glowing fungi were scarce in this section of the caverns, but they provided him with enough light to see the figure in front of him.


    To his surprise, the figure was not of a woman or a monster. It was a man, no more in his late twenties. He had a wild look, accompanied by long, messy black hair and a beard. He wore badly worn-out armor that was barely hanging onto his body, as parts of it were missing, revealing scars and bruises.


    "By the Divines," Godric gasped. "Y-you''re alive! Come now! We''ve got to get you out of here. I know the way out." He lowered his guard and approached the man, but to his surprise, the man lunged at him like a wild beast, baring his teeth which now had fangs. He attempted to grab him with both hands, but Godric reacted in time and kicked him hard in the chest which halted his advance.


    However, the attempt was subpar at best for his opponent only stopped for an instance, but he never moved even a slight distance from Godric''s attack. Godric used his mana-imbued sight to gain insight into his opposition, and to his great surprise found that this man was a mana user, like him. However, his raging, blue mana overwhelmed the natural color of life as streaks of red sparked uncontrollably outside his body.


    "Shit." Godric cursed as the man began to growl more aggressively, noticeably angered at Godric''s attempt earlier.


    The man-beast howled, and the entire cavern shook at the sound. Godric stepped back to regain his footing and breathed in slowly. For the first time in a long while, he was anxious. He looked at his opponent who seemingly was now filled with bloodlust, as Godric braced himself for the fight of his life.

 Ch. 13 -- The Man, The Beast, and the Nightmare

    The man-beast roared, shaking the cavern, and rushed toward Godric. His eyes were blood red, his nails were shaped like claws, and his teeth were filed like fangs. Godric, not wanting to kill the man, immediately went on the defensive. He split Death''s Lament into two and crossed the swords together--creating a spark in the air as they formed an X-shaped pattern. He braced for impact and barely held his ground as the beast''s fangs were stopped by the swords. However, the assault did not end as Godric''s arms were relentlessly being attacked by the beast, which sapped the strength out of his arms.


    The scratches weakened Godric''s defenses; which would also have torn his arms to shreds were it not for his bracers, and so he shifted and rolled to one side but was caught by a clubbing blow that launched him onto a wall and knocked off the spear he placed on his back. He fell hard on the ground and groaned in pain.


    "Fucking hells..." He cursed. "This guy hits harder than Anar¨®r?--and that''s saying something..." He coughed hard and gained his bearings as the beast howled and somewhat let out a frenzied laugh that surprised Godric.


    "Fuck. It seems that I have no choice." Godric decided to go on the offensive, as it would be impossible for him to defend against his opponent. The cold, misty air was visible each time he breathed in and out. After a few moments of circling each other, he rushed toward the man-beast and attempted to incapacitate him. He knew there was still a piece of humanity there as he observed that his opponent was tactical when it came to striking. It knew that he would roll to get out of its first attempt earlier, and he observed that the monster it fought earlier only had crushed legs and a disfigured head, which most likely caused its death.


    It was apparent that the legs were taken out to immobilize the monster that was bigger than it was, thus giving way to deal the killing blow to the head. The man-beast still had the mind of a hunter, which was all the reason that Godric needed to convince himself that he was still could be saved. It was a gamble--and a reckless one at that, but that did not stop him.


    They were at a close distance from each other, and the beast swung a brutish forearm at Godric who dodged it as he slid downward and quickly cut its leg. Blood dripped from the wound, but it did not cry out in pain as the cut was too shallow to hinder its movements. It stopped to look at the wound and smiled, almost as if to say it was enjoying the experience.


    The beast looked back at Godric and rushed at him again, however, this time it was different as it ran toward him on all fours. Godric again combined his blades back into one whole weapon and thought to incapacitate his opponent in one downward strike by timing the blow when the beast would leap.


    The man-beast was smarter, for the anticipated leap never happened, and it merely stood on two legs as soon as it was within arms reach of Godric.


    The young man swung downwards but only met stone as the beast sidestepped the attack and grabbed Godric in a vice-like grip as he lifted him off the ground which made him drop Death''s Lament as he screamed in pain. The beast then threw Godric across the cave, who landed hard and continued to roll until he was near the dead monster''s body. The beast waited until Godric stood up and ran toward him again but was only met by a hard punch thrown by the young man that staggered and left him dazed for a few seconds.


    "A mana-imbued punch. Who would''ve thought that would work?" Godric chuckled at the discovery but was still evidently in pain. The man-beast collected himself and suddenly shifted to a fighting stance with his hands raised, almost as if to say he wanted to fight fair and square. "There you are," Godric said. "Let''s settle this the old-fashioned way." He also switched to a defensive form that was taught to him by Anar¨®r?.


    The two circled each other and waited for who would strike first. After a tense moment, the man-beast threw the first punch that Godric deflected using his left palm, countering with a quick jab. He let out a wry smile as his training with Anar¨®r? was being put to the test. Enraged, another punch was thrown, and Godric deflected again, but this time he opted to hit his opponent on the chin, hoping to render him unconscious, but to no avail for the man-beast was tenacious.


    This continued for a time until Godric could no longer keep up with his opponent''s stamina as he failed to deflect a jab that left him bloodied. The moment gave the man-beast an opening to attack Godric with a flurry of strikes, ending with a grab that threw the young man across the cave. It howled as if to celebrate its triumph over Godric and now stared at him with an intent to kill, as the fight had become dull.


    Godric coughed and groaned in pain. He understood the situation that he was in. He knew that he was outmatched in both experience and strength. He was awkwardly sprawled across the ground amongst the rocks and stones, but the idea of surrender never crossed his mind. The man-beast howled for one last time before he lunged at the young man at full speed. Godric, in a last act of defiance, stood as he picked up the spear and held it up against his opponent.


    "Come at me!" Godric taunted the beast as he accepted any fate that fell him in the next few moments.


    The sound of iron clashing against metal rang throughout the cave, followed by the harrowing cries of pain from the man-beast, accompanied by a loud crash onto rocks and stone. The sound was deafening and Godric was already spent, having no energy left to even see what had happened. His vision blurred and his body collapsed onto the ground, exhausted and unconscious.


    <hr>


    Godric fell into a deep slumber. The battle had taken too much of his energy, and no elven magic was there to help him this time. He found himself drifting alone in a space; one that was void of life and light. His body was a transparent shade of gray, and the colors faded from time to time. He waited and waited, hoping that someone would appear and wake him from his nightmare. However, no one came.


    The young man grew restless, and soon a thought crossed his mind. This must be the afterlife, Godric thought to himself. I thought it would be more crowded. He jested. The young man always knew that Death would come for all, and he had always feared that the day would come soon. Closing his eyes, he waited for the divine being''s cold touch to carry him to the afterlife.


    As he closed his eyes, however, the scenery shifted. From the pits of the very void itself, he was suddenly transported to a gloomy landscape. Godric was undoubtedly shaken, as the land felt seemingly cruel and twisted--not of Primera. He saw dark clouds that rumbled in the distance. The moon shone in a crimson shade that enveloped the fields below. Sounds of torture filled the air, which made his transparent body shudder. The scene shifted and moved to where Godric spotted an imposing black fortress that radiated power and authority but also pure evil.


    Moments later, he found himself in what appeared to be one of the rooms of the fortress, as the window provided the same landscape he had seen earlier. Godric''s body now manifested into a physical form, and he quickly rushed to a corner of the lavish room, hidden behind a curtain.


    Footsteps soon followed, and a voice spoke that broke the silence and made him stand still. The language spoken was not of Men as Godric could not discern it being from Primera, nor any of the neighboring continents. It came from a towering figure with a pale complexion. He had raven hair and wore clothes that signified royalty. He walked across the room and stared outside the window, observing the view as he pressed his hands behind his back. However, Godric never had a chance to grasp his appearance as he had difficulty processing everything.


    Another voice spoke but Godric was unable to locate the source. Afterwards, a figure materialized out of thin air and wore clothing similar to the first man, but was more rugged and looked like it had seen battle.


    He was a stark contrast for his hair was white, his voice was calming and persuasive, and strapped behind his back was a brutish ebony war axe. Looking at the weapon was a mistake, for Godric felt a different level of fear enter his heart. His mind was clouded with thoughts of doubt and anxiety, and he felt like he was almost on the verge of going insane.


    He attempted to use mana to help shield himself from what appeared to be magic imbued into the war axe, but to no avail. The power of the weapon was too ancient, dark, and powerful. The only thing that he could do was to use his entire mana pool and focus it on protecting what little sanity and consciousness he had left.


    In doing so, his mind shifted and his thoughts were a complete mess. Every piece of information he knew crossed his mind, rendering him unable to move even if he wanted to. However, something peculiar happened during the process, for the unknown language slowly and surely turned into the one he was familiar with. Godric willed himself to listen in on the last conversation he might ever hear before he passed.


    "...If it comes to that, it would be an unpleasant turn of events. How fares the people?" The tall man asked.


    "They''ve been doing well so far despite what happened. However, they''ve taken precautions as seeds have been planted. They have learned, and are almost prepared to fight again." The other individual responded. Upon hearing the news, the figure sighed. He turned to reveal a mask of intricate design that covered a proportion of his charming features. It curved upwards which formed a crown that rested on his head.


    "To be frank. I find all of this to be extremely bothersome. If I had my way, things would be easier. But alas, it is not meant to be." He remarked.


    "But it will. Soon. What is your command, my liege?" The other responded as he knelt on both knees, kissing the ground--almost as if he were revering the man like a god.


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    "I''m afraid I will have to save my answer to that question for another time. It seems that we have a guest." The masked man and the other individual turned and stared in Godric''s direction, apparently aware of his presence.


    "Did you honestly think I didn''t notice you?" He terrifyingly smiled at Godric.


    The man with the war axe stood and slowly approached him, immediately grabbing his weapon. He was already poised and ready to strike. Without warning, he swung his axe at a terrifying speed, and Godric screamed but no sound escaped from his mouth.


    <hr>


    Godric woke up in a cold sweat. His screams echoed throughout the caverns, and he shook in fear of what he saw.


    What kind of nightmare was that? He asked himself as he grunted in pain and stared at the ceiling of the cave.


    "You''re awake. That''s nice to know." A voice blurted out in the darkness. "You have a good form, you know--but you still need work on your counters. How fares Anar¨®r? these days?" The question caught Godric off-guard. He looked for the source, and moments later, the man-beast from earlier emerged out of the darkness as the fungi illuminated the room. This time, however, his humanity shone through, as he no longer had bloodshot eyes, for they were replaced with a deep, brown color. His fangs disappeared, along with the claws that almost tore Godric''s arms to shreds.


    "H-how do you know who...?" Godric stood up and winced as he approached him.


    "Anar¨®r?? Elf with silver hair, beautiful, physically gifted, but has a nasty attitude? Who wouldn''t?" Godric stared at him.


    "I jest. Your fighting stance ultimately gave it away. I only know of one individual who utilizes that form. Also, when I was still in my transformed state I smelled the scent of elvish on you." He explained while pointing at Godric''s armor.


    Godric looked at Death''s Lament which was still at the exact spot where he had dropped it. The man then walked toward him.


    "I know you came from Mistveil Forest. The sword you carry was crafted using their smithing techniques. However, the overall design is odd. Elvish weapons are known to balance the bridge between offense and defense." The man said.


    "That''s what Elmar said to me as well," Godric responded to the man''s story. "Elmar, eh? He never showed me this weapon, but alas." He turned to the monster he had killed earlier and began to rip an arm off with minimal effort.


    "Hold on, you never answered--" Godric attempted to approach the man but he again winced in pain.


    "I''m sorry for the beatdown I gave you earlier. Give your body some time to heal first. A few hours is all you will need." He looked at the stab wound Godric inflicted on him earlier using the spear which was still bleeding but was nearly healed.


    "And how do you know that I won''t die from my injuries in a few hours?" Godric asked him. "Because you''ve awakened your magic, like me. Awakened beings heal faster from injuries or wounds sustained because of the mana that has been activated and is now flowing throughout your body." The man responded.


    "...All right then," Godric said, still somewhat unconvinced. "Now, we''re going nowhere with this. So at least answer my question. Based on what I know, you''re a hunter and you''re also the son of the innkeeper. You entered the caverns five autumn seasons ago in search of a cure--alone, which I might say, is mad."


    "Says the one who entered the caverns alone, and almost got himself killed." The man quipped.


    "Regardless, back to my question. Who exactly are you?" Godric asked.


    "All right, all right. To finally calm you down, the name is Evander. Nephew of Lord Geoffrey, and cousin of Tryst, who I presume must now be the Lady of House Huntingborne." Evander looked at Godric with a serious look in his eyes.


    "These days, I am but a lost soul, and Tryst must now have taken the position in my absence, although that was probably for the best--she was always the more diplomatic one," Evander answered.


    "Wait...you...are of noble blood?" Godric was shocked at the revelation.


    "Surprised? No one ever stops to think that nobles would be found in the Whiteflower, as well as a shithole like this, and yet here we are." He responded, unbothered.


    "Then why are we still here then? I know a way out. Have you found the cure? We can ask for help." Godric tried to convince him.


    "I have found the cure. I just haven''t found the perfect opportunity yet." Evander sat down and began to eat the monster''s huge arm raw, which almost made Godric vomit.


    "By the Divines, are you mad?" He asked. "I''ve gotten used to it. Being trapped here for... five autumn seasons, was it?" Evander responded as he ate.


    "It does things to the body. I think my acquired transformation magic plays a role in helping me digest the food as well. Also, this big fellow here can last me for at least a fortnight if I play it right." He gestured Godric toward a boulder near where he was, next to the huge slab of meat on the ground.


    "Come, sit. We have much to talk about."


    Godric approached him slowly and sat down as he watched Evander voraciously consume the meat. "How can you even eat that much?" He asked.


    "I don''t suppose you''ve noticed, but I just polymorphed into three different beasts earlier at the same time earlier. That takes a lot out of one''s vitality, don''t you think?"


    "Right...you were impressive earlier as well. You''re strong. However, I did manage to beat Anar¨®r? before I left, so imagine my surprise when you hit me harder than her." Godric remarked. "It hurts though, which is the bad thing."


    Evander laughed at the praise. "Anar¨®r?? Defeated? I would not attempt to go near her after you go and boast that you defeated her. She was holding back, you know."


    "I had my suspicions. I was still treated as a guest of House Alastrassa. She could have killed me back then if she wanted to despite me going all out, but she couldn''t." Godric said.


    "You were a guest of King Ithilien? Call me intrigued. Tell me your story." The hunter asked.


    "Only if you tell me yours."


    Without hesitation, Evander reached out and shook Godric''s hand. "It''s a deal. Now talk." Godric thought about it, but since Evander knew so much about the elves, there was no harm in telling his story.


    "All right, I''ll talk. Also, ease up with your grip. That handshake fucking hurt."


    <hr>


    Godric spent a few hours retelling his entire tale; from how it all began at Rosetown, to his days spent under the tutelage of the elves, all the way to reaching Gillsberry and meeting the old man at the Whiteflower. Evander breathed a sigh of relief, mixed with a tinge of sadness.


    "My old man still lives, eh?" He asked.


    "Yes, although his condition is worsening and I fear that he has little time left in our world," Godric responded. "Mind me for asking--but your father is of noble blood. Why did he spend his days living as a simple innkeeper at the Whiteflower?"


    "Because that was where he found his happiness; surrounded by the company of different cultures and people with hearts of gold--away from the troubles of politics and governance," Evander replied.


    "He''s the younger brother of my uncle and was next in line to being the head of our house, however, he always ran away from court and found solace by living out his life as a hunter and innkeeper. He was always welcome back at Stagvalley--of course, and he visited frequently, but all that changed after my uncle was incapacitated in the civil war, and my father was pressured to lead." Evander narrated his father''s story, catching Godric''s attention.


    "He led our house for a while, but eventually returned to Gillsberry--leaving me to act as the head at the young age of ten. It was hard, of course, but I grew accustomed to it. So did Tryst, who eventually became the priestess of the wild; a title worthy of honor and respect." He said as he gnawed on the monster''s bone.


    "I don''t hate my old man for it. After witnessing our people who participated in the great hunt and hearing the dull talks of politicians, I finally understood why he chose to leave."


    "He still lives, you know," Godric quickly reminded him. "In your scribbling, you said you found the cure--a flower. You can take it now and leave, I can aid you in getting it out of here!"


    Evander chuckled, then let out a sigh. "Yes, the Whiteflower. If only it were that easy." He said as he threw the bone toward the wall. "It is being held by a monster who has held me captive here. I''ve tried to beat it multiple times but only ended up battered and bruised. The first time I entered, I was instantly defeated and left for dead. I was not worthy to be eaten, it said. When I came back inside the caverns after the elves found me--it told me I was a fool, and thus cursed me to rampage whenever I attempted to leave."


    "Remember my condition when we fought?" Godric nodded. "I was stuck in that form for what I believe to be almost an entire year. It felt like I was in a prison. I knew what was going on but could not control my body. However, thanks to you I regained my humanity." Evander explained.


    "This monster...did it have the features of a beautiful woman?" Godric asked. "Yes, how did you know? The being is alluring in that form, but all seven hells break loose once you see what its hidden form is."


    "The elven king warned me about that. He loathes the monster to the point where I was even scared to ask why." Godric stood and picked up Death''s Lament.


    "Well, the king is terrifying once you see that side of him." Evander quipped.


    "However, that thing holds the only object I need to succeed in this quest. Maybe we can work together taking it down, and maybe--just maybe--we can both walk out of here alive," Godric said.


    "Hmmm... it would be nice to let loose some steam. Also, the hunter in me is just itching for a good kill." Evander picked up his spear as he approached Godric.


    "It''s a mad gamble, but who knows?" He remarked. "Maybe this spell will be lifted after the thing is finally dead."


    "It''s settled then," Godric said as he and Evander marched out of the area, weapons in hand.


    "Let''s go out and slay a monster."

 Ch. 14 - The Hunt

    The two men traversed through the damp, cold caverns with their weapons in hand. Their wounds by this time were already fully healed except for the small cut that Godric left on Evander''s leg.


    The missing lord of House Huntingborne always kept an eye on the remaining wound as he found it peculiar that it never regenerated like the rest. He found difficulty in walking as he observed the strange phenomena. "The cut on my leg," he said. "It still has not remedied itself. A bizarre weapon you have there." This caught Godric''s attention as he paused to inspect the damage.


    The young man noticed that Evander had an enormous pool of mana coursing throughout his entire body; honed by the years spent surviving alone in such a gods-forsaken place. The mana flowed through every inch of his being except where the damage was inflicted. Mana was returning to cover the wound, albeit very slowly. Godric shared his findings with Evander, hoping that they would be able to find an answer.


    "Really?" Evander answered, surprised. "A weapon that can disrupt the flow of mana? Hah! Could you give me a moment to inspect this sword of yours?"


    Godric obliged and handed him Death''s Lament. Evander carefully inspected the weapon akin to how an artist would critique his work to check for imperfections. He then stopped and smiled. "There it is," he said as he rubbed the hilt.


    "There are two runes that are marked onto its hilt. However, the inscription on them is in a language unfamiliar to me as it is neither Elvish, Dwarven, or Abussonian. Earlier on, I noticed that you could separate this weapon into two. Can you demonstrate that again for me?"


    Godric did as Evander requested and the weapon split into two blades. "Now that is a horrifying image. Now that I look at it, its curved shapes turn the blades into war sickles; it''s as if you were Death itself." The hunter then stood up, satisfied with his findings.


    "It seems we''ve solved the mystery here. Although I am unfamiliar with the language, your weapon essentially has two runes: one allows it to sever mana from the body, and the other is its ability to alter its physical form. Elmar might have made the weapon, but I''d recommend you ask him about the runes, they are intriguing." He remarked. "And here I was, thinking my weapon was special."


    "Your spear has magical properties as well?" Godric asked.


    "Of course, I don''t know if you''ve noticed but have you seen anything out of the ordinary with my weapon?" The young man looked at the hunter''s spear which looked plain but later spotted something odd.


    "It seems you''ve noticed it then," Evander smiled. "My spear too, has a rune marked onto it." He said as he proudly presented his weapon, revealing a carved symbol that meant ''unbroken''. "I''m sure you''re familiar with it by now, but its proper name is Thrillseeker."


    "I sought advice before embarking on this mad journey, so I went and visited Anar¨®r?. Believe it or not, she was against this entire plan of mine but eventually surrendered as I was stubborn as a rock." He said. "Before I left, she gave this to me--said it was an old gift from the race of Men a hundred years ago, and that it would be fitting that a mortal should wield it."


    "What does it do?" Godric asked. "The enhancement is straightforward. The piercing power of the weapon depends on the strength of the wielder. Also, since it is an enchanted weapon, it is quite durable. A normal spear would have broken at first contact with my blood-lusted beast form." Evander replied.


    The two continued their discussion as they resumed their journey deeper into the cavern.


    "Are there any more weapons such as ours?" Godric asked as the idea piqued his interest.


    "Each Great House has at least a few, depending on tradition and culture. Ours is Hearttamer--a wombtree staff with an orange gemstone. The gemstone is embued with a rune containing the power to gain the allegiance of almost every living human, animal, and beast.


    For House Alastrassa, it would be King Ithilien''s elven longsword, Stargazer. An ancient weapon, that one--they say that a touch of the blade could easily pierce through the thickest of scales, and most well-made armor." Evander narrated.


    "There are more, but I am afraid my memory is a bit foggy. Also, these weapons are hard to come by these days."


    "And why is that?" The young man questioned him as they were where Godric had placed a mark to avoid being lost. The water trickled down from the stalagmite rocks from above, splashing onto their beaten armor and skin.


    "Because the art of creating a weapon that can be imbued with enhancements has been lost. In ancient times, few individuals knew how to create such weapons and pass the art on to their next of kin. However, according to old tales, their families were butchered due to jealousy, and now, based on records written by the scholars of Raven''s Nest, only a handful of them remain. No one knows their whereabouts. They still live--although I doubt the survivors would know the process." Evander replied.


    Godric pondered on the idea of entire bloodlines being put to the slaughter only because of the petty emotions of others, but then a chilling thought crossed his mind.


    "Evander, why hasn''t the witch shown itself yet?" He held his weapon tightly. "I was warned about people being uncontrollably lured into the caverns, charmed by her magic. Shouldn''t we have seen or heard from it by now?"


    "Oh, you''re damn right it has already noticed us," Evander replied. "The caverns have eyes and ears everywhere. The only reason why we still have our wits is because our awakened mana is acting as a living barrier. I take it that the elves have told you the tales as to why many of their kind die when they are near this gods-forsaken place?" Godric stayed quiet.


    "This is because the witch has an uncontrollable thirst for elvish blood. It treats it as if it were a delicacy, very intoxicating, and addictive. The memories from that day are best left unspoken, save for the lives of the elves who rescued me. The only reason why we''re still alive is because it doesn''t even treat us like worthy prey." Evander recalled, his voice filled with sadness and a bridling anger.


    "I''ll make that monster pay, and on this day--the predator will now become prey, the Divines be my witness."


    The two of them eventually found themselves where the path split off into two. "This is the place," Godric said. "The route there leads outside, but I''ve yet to delve into this one." Godric pointed toward the pathway that seemed darker than the one they came from.


    "That''s where our prey resides. We''re not leaving here till that thing is dead--let''s go." Evander led the charge without hesitation, and Godric followed suit. The lost lord of House Huntingborne knew the track all too well. He cautioned Godric on which areas he should avoid stepping on, lest he risk himself slipping to death. Battle strategies and tactics were also discussed during their descent toward what seemed to be impending doom. Godric listened intently to every word Evander spoke, and he was incredibly impressed.


    This is how a noble from the Great Houses of Men should act, He thought to himself. Eloquent, intelligent in many ways, brave, a great warrior, and most importantly, kind. Godric silently left a mental note to himself to become at least half the man Evander was. If they could get out of this alive, the young man could easily find himself pledging his life in service for House Huntingborne; enjoy the company of the hunters at the Whiteflower, and visit the old man and Coraline from time to time.


    "We''re here." Evander stopped in his tracks and signaled Godric to steel himself. The pit they were in caught Godric by surprise. Despite being in the deepest reaches of the caverns, sunlight shone through--illuminating a portion of the area. In the center of it, all was a sparkling, captivating flower that blossomed without the need for water or soil.


    "Is that..." Godric began to speak but Evander simply cut him off. He nodded and prompted him to look beyond the flower, where a jagged staircase of stone was found. As Godric did so, he was met with a pair of eyes that shone like pale moonlight.


    Its gaze pierced through his heart, calling out to him--almost as if to say that they longed for his touch. He slowly approached the shadowy being, but Evander shouted at him and quickly tackled Godric to the ground, snapping the young man out of his trance.


    "I''ve been through all seven hells and back these past five years, witch. I know each one of your tricks." The lord then stood and spat on the ground in an act of defiance.


    A cold and evil laugh then echoed throughout the caverns which woke the nocturnal bats from their slumber as they fled to higher ground, away from the impending danger.


    "Oh but do you?" A feminine voice spoke in the darkness.


    Moments later, an ethereal figure appeared, bathed in the sunlight. Godric was taken off guard not because of how tales of the monster''s beauty were true, but because the monster in question was not human, but instead was an elf. She wore nothing but a silken, white dress that reached her knees, and she walked barefoot on the cold, stone ground. A thought crossed the young man''s mind, but he quickly brushed it off.


    "...What are you?" Godric asked the elf, but he was only met with a sinister smile.


    "Surprised, are we?" the monster replied. "I know what you''re here for, mortal. Your scent was hard to not notice. You carry something that has an elvish scent, and I thank you for that--your item and corpse shall be pieces to add to my fine collection. Your friend here knows how well I treat my friends."


    It laughed, taunting the lord as she stepped in between the two who were now circling her.


    This sparked something in Evander, who began to growl in anger. Fangs slowly began to appear between his teeth, however Godric was glad that he was still in control of himself.


    "Today is the day you die," Evander shifted to a fighting stance, his spear in one hand. "On my life, I promise you this." In one quick motion, Evander and Godric immediately rushed toward the elf in an attempt to end the fight quickly, but the monster responded by protruding a wall of flesh and bone out of both of its arms, revealing that its physical appearance was nothing more than a facade.


    "Entertain me." The monster spoke in a garbled tone as its once-elvish body now turned into a humanoid figure that had spiked bones for weapons and bodies of different victims as a line of defense, covering its main body. It now began to throw sharpened spikes made out of bones at the two who did their best to avoid getting hit.


    "Avoid getting pierced by the bones!" Evander cautioned Godric as he slowly began to polymorph. "One hit and the poison will enter your body and take effect!"


    Evander closed the gap between him and the humanoid being as he ducked and swerved through its offense. Using his enhanced strength, he thrust Thrillseeker into a wall of flesh that acted as a defensive form for the monster''s main body, but it never made it through entirely. It was instead lodged midway, and Evander was knocked aside with incredible force as the humanoid figure slammed an extension of decomposing muscle at him.


    "Evander!" Godric worried for his companion''s well-being as he struggled to defend himself against the monster''s attacks. Unlike Evander who had impressive speed and strength due to his magic, and experience in fighting against this beast, Godric found it difficult to find even the slightest opening to land a blow.


    The humanoid laughed at Godric. "Poor little thing," it taunted him. "Did the great, king Ithilien send another sad soul to die in vain?" It launched a flurry of attacks at Godric by sending wave after wave of muscle and rotting flesh, to which Godric desperately hacked and sliced his way through as there was no possible way for him to dodge.


    A quick moment gave Godric enough time to split his sword into two blades, creating a burning spark in the air. This was enough to increase his chances of cutting through the seemingly endless barrage of flesh being sent toward him, however, this also became a concern as his energy was depleting quickly.


    Out of nowhere, a thin spike flew out of the wall of flesh, catching Godric by surprise, piercing his left arm just below his wrist after a desperate attempt to block the projectile. This caused him to drop one of the blades out of dizziness as he began to experience an unknown feeling course through his body.


    He groggily dropped to the floor as he defended himself from the attacks, and just when all hope seemed lost, Evander appeared out of nowhere in his man-beast form and jumped on top of the monster, scratching and clawing his way deep into the wall of flesh in an attempt to reach the monster''s core. It let out a scream of pain accompanied by Evander''s howls of anger.


    Godric groaned in anguish, and his entire hand convulsed and shook uncontrollably. He attempted to use his mana to slow down the poison but struggled to do so as this was the first time he experienced such a feeling. As Evander and the monster were locked in a deadly struggle, Godric remembered the cure and desperately crawled toward the flower to remedy himself.


    It felt like an eternity, but he was able to grasp the flower''s petals. It was soft to the touch and gave Godric peace of mind. It took no longer than a few moments for him to notice that the poison no longer existed. The wound was still there, but it only felt as if he were punctured by a needle; nothing more, nothing less.


    As he gained his bearings and prepared to join in the fight again, in the corner of his eye he spotted a piece of flesh that he had cut off earlier. He looked as it slowly decomposed, rotting away, piece by piece until nothing was left. Godric found it odd at first but then he observed his wound.


    The puncture was still there, but he noticed that the wound spread out from the source, like it had rotted away. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. It was a dangerous bet, but in the circumstances they were in, Godric had to try.


    "Evander!" He shouted to the lord who was alone, face-to-face with the monster. Godric observed that he was attempting to retrieve his spear, which was still lodged in the monster''s body. "I know its secret! The wound inflicts decay! Not poison!"


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "Are you sure?!" Evander screamed as he dodged the oncoming attacks from the wailing beast. Godric picked up the other blade and threw it with all his strength at the wall of flesh, missing Evander by a hair as it lodged deep inside muscle and flesh.


    "Careful where you throw that thing! I don''t heal if my head gets impaled!" He shouted.


    "Rally to me! I have a plan!"


    The lord of House Huntingborne then ripped the other half of Death''s Lament from the beast as it wailed in agony, with chunks of meat dropping onto the stone floor. It retreated a few distances back as it seemed as though it had taken a considerable amount of damage.


    Evander headed to where Godric was, and the two headed toward the other side of the lair, parallel to the monster, who was now inching closer to the flower.


    "I''m here," He panted, clearly tired from the fight. "Your presence here made this struggle last longer than I had expected, but still we''re far from achieving what we came here for. What did you have in mind?"


    "Look over there," Godric responded. He pointed at the chunks of flesh that Evander cut off earlier, and they saw the same thing Godric had seen after he had healed himself. "The flower has the properties of curing decay. When I touched it, the pain was gone and the wound remained--however I noticed that something was off." Godric showed him where he was struck earlier and it showed that the area around it was withered.


    "I think you might be onto something here," Evander said after piecing together the clues. "What now?"


    Before they could move forward with a plan, a desperate shriek came from the monster as it transformed back into its elven form. "Curses!" It shouted.


    "Why won''t it work?! My wounds, my beauty! They are not returning to what they used to be--What did you do to me?!" It touched the flower again and again as the once-captivating form slowly shriveled into an old, rotting, and unnerving figure.


    "I''ll kill you for this!" It screamed as it ran toward the two of them and immediately transformed back into a mess of corpses and bones.


    No word was spoken, but the two immediately responded by heading head-first onto the danger, each one of them grasping a blade of Death''s Lament in one hand. They hacked and slashed through the defenses with ease, as Godric''s weapon seemed to finally take effect.


    The cuts and slashes they inflicted healed slower than normal, and the monster''s power of decay was now doing more harm than good to its master, as it could no longer remedy itself using mana, and the flower could not completely wipe out the ability of decay. The main body of the beast was now completely exposed at this point.


    Evander saw his spear in sight and immediately pulled it out with ease.


    "There you are!" He screamed in joy as he kissed the weapon.


    "Godric, catch!" The young man turned and caught the spear with the other hand as he lodged his blade into the wall of flesh.


    "Finish it!" Evander screamed.


    With one mighty shout and a thrust to the frail, decomposing core, Godric lodged Thrillseeker onto its forehead. No sound was to be heard nor movement to be observed from the monster. Godric and Evander, soaked in blood and sweat, breathed heavily as flesh and bone fell hard onto the stone floor--the harrowing sound echoing throughout the caverns. The two of them stepped back to study the situation and take in what had happened.


    "...W-we did it," Evander said as he fell to his knees. "By the Divines, we did it!" He celebrated as he laughed and punched the ground in celebration.


    Godric smiled and laughed as he stopped to approach the massive lump of rotting flesh. He retrieved Thrillseeker from the monster, leaving behind a gaping hole in its forehead.


    "I believe this belongs to you, milord." He presented Thrillseeker to Evander who retrieved the weapon from him and stood up. "Thank you, friend. If it weren''t for you, this wouldn''t have been possible." The lord extended his hand to Godric, who accepted it with a firm grip.


    The respectful handshake then turned into celebration as Evander pulled Godric in for a hug, showing his appreciation for his new brother-at-arms. "You have no idea how long I''ve waited for this moment," Evander smiled. "Let''s go, our treasures await us."


    Godric walked back toward the body of the monster as Evander went ahead and retrieved the flower from its place. The petals reflected the light of the sun and emitted a warm glow to the cold and damp cavern. Godric searched and searched for the relic of House Alastrassa, and after minutes of digging through the wall of flesh, noticed glimmering stones attached to one of the corpses. He approached and upon closer inspection identified that it was no mere gemstones, but a necklace that resembled the crescent moon.


    There was no doubt in his heart. This must be it. Godric excitedly thought to himself. He felt proud of himself for he felt that for the first time in his life, he had done something of extreme value. He felt redeemed, and along with that feeling, came an overwhelming emotion of happiness. The young man found himself trembling as he then broke into tears.


    Evander approached him with the flower in hand and patted him on the back. "You did well lad, stand proud." He asked for Godric''s satchel and gently placed the flower inside for its safety and convenience. "Come, let''s get out of this shithole."


    <hr>


    The two of them trekked back up the trail, inching closer and closer to the entrance of the witch''s lair. A silence befell the two, as they were now in deep thought.


    "Now that we''ve finished our business here," Godric asked Evander. "What will happen to you?"


    "I will return to Stagvalley, and resume my duties as head of House Huntingborne. I won''t let my poor cousin do all the work now. It is hard enough to act as the priestess of the wild and head of a Great House." He responded.


    "And what about you? It seems that the Polifios have you marked for death. You could stay with us in Stagvalley. House Huntingborne can offer you what you need to start anew, you know. No harm will come for you there. You will have the chance to live amongst the race of Men."


    The offer was tempting. Godric thought about it for a time as they walked. He could return to the elves, return the relic, and say his goodbyes, but he had grown to love the elven world for its wonders. The young man was now suddenly forced into a dilemma.


    "...I''ll have to think on that, but thank you for the offer, milord." Evander laughed as they were now close to the exit of the cave. "Don''t act so formal!" Evander laughed.


    "You''re a brother-at-arms now, and a guest of our House. Simply call me Evand-" The lord stopped mid-sentence as he grasped his chest, almost as if the air in his lungs were taken from his body. He cried out in a deafening roar of pain, as his body had begun to grow in size.


    Godric stared at him in horror as he noticed that Evander was slowly returning to his man-beast form from when they first met. Evander looked at Godric while he still could. His brown, human eyes were a mixture of shock and sorrow.


    "Run." The lord mouthed at Godric, who was already armed and ready for another fight.


    Afterward, the two of them stopped dead in their tracks as they heard the most bone-chilling shriek of anger from the direction they came from. What followed next was a massive earthquake that shook the entire cavern, almost as if the mountain itself had awoken from a deep slumber.


    Then came out of the darkness was the monster they faced before, only this time, no trace of humanity was left. What they encountered was not of this world. A chill crawled down their spines as it approached them in its true form. Godric was not able to fully comprehend what he was seeing.


    Its body was a mess of faces from all kinds of beings it had consumed throughout its lifetime. It had wings fashioned by the feathers of various animals which were held together by dislodged and decomposed arms that reeked of death. At the center of it all was the witch, with one half of its face showing its true, old, and rotting form, while the other was the decomposed skin and features of the beautiful elven skin it had earlier.


    "Y-you... " it reached out to Godric, as it. "You did this...to me!" It shrieked and flew toward Godric who was quaking from fear, but was still within his wits to defend himself.


    Out of nowhere, Evander jumped onto the monster and wrestled with it mid-air, causing damage after damage to the cavern as the stalagmite rocks from above fell, almost piercing Godric. The stone pillars that held the caverns were now beginning to crumble due to the chaos, and the entire cave was soon to collapse.


    "You have the flower Godric! Leave me, now!" The brave lord of House Huntingborne roared at him as he struggled with the monster, who was also inflicting significant damage to the man-beast.


    Evander still had a semblance of humanity inside him as he was still able to communicate properly, but deep down he knew that it would not take long before bloodlust would overwhelm his mind and turn him into nothing more than a mindless creature again.


    Godric was left with no other choice, but to turn and head as fast as he could upward and out of the caverns. With each step he took, the heavier his heart felt leaving his new friend to himself. He was already at the entrance and was now greeted with a cool breeze as the rain clouds began to hover overhead. He looked and shouted for his steed, who had already risen and was now darting toward his location.


    However, something strong and cold gripped his leg, tripping him over and dragging him back toward the caverns. It was the monster, all bloodied and beaten whose eyes were now dangling out of their sockets, while its body was disfigured from scratches and bite marks.


    "If I die, you shall die with me mortal!" It cackled and gleefully laughed as it dragged Godric, who was now clawing and scratching at the dirt, back inside.


    "The only ones dying this day will be the two of us, monster!" Evander, who was bloodied all over, suddenly appeared on top of the monster and thrust Thrillseeker onto its back, which made it lose its grasp on Godric who immediately got up and swung his sword onto one of the monster''s wings, detaching it completely off the main body. It struggled, but Evander kept a firm grip on the monster and began to drag himself and it down back to the dark pits.


    "I swear to the old gods, and the Divines be my witness, you will never harm another soul again! I''ll drag your corpse down the seven hells myself!" Evander with all his strength, then howled and punched the rocks that held the entranceway together. Rocks now began to tumble down the mountain and were now blocking the passage. The brave lord then pulled his spear and threw it at the ground near Godric''s feet.


    "I am glad to have met you Godric, even if our meeting was brief. You''ve allowed me to experience the hunt of a lifetime, and for that, you have my eternal gratitude--in this life and the next." He laughed.


    "You don''t have to do this!" Godric screamed as he attempted to approach Evander despite the avalanche of rocks now falling on top of the entrance, covering it slowly.


    "It''s too late for me now," Evander responded. "Tell Anar¨®r? that I''m sorry for breaking my promise!" He pulled Thrillseeker from the monster''s body and threw it at Godric''s feet. Cloud had now approached Godric and caught a glimpse of his former rider. Evander, who spent years in the dark, smiled after seeing his loyal steed again for the final time.


    Goodbye, my friends. Evander uttered silently. After one loud rumble of the mountain range and a pained cry of the monster, the dust cleared, and the caverns were now completely buried underneath layers of rock and stone.


    Godric crumpled to the ground, defeated. It had happened again. Someone had now, again sacrificed their own life for his sake. An abandoned farm boy with nothing to his name but a wooden basket had now been saved twice by people he called friends. The rain poured down, bathing Godric in water as droplets trickled down his battered armor. He hobbled over to Cloud, who was seemingly crying at the loss of his former rider.


    "You too?" Godric asked the steed as he cupped his hands over its head in an attempt to comfort the poor soul. "Come now, Cloud--we still have work to do." He said as he got up on the saddle and signaled the horse to retreat into the vast, open fields and toward the inn down south, silently crying with his head bowed down as he thought about how he would explain everything.

 Ch. 15 - A Bittersweet Taste

    The stars shone brightly across the pitch-black sky when Godric had finally arrived at the Whiteflower. The rain poured throughout the afternoon, leaving him and the steed in a cold, wet mess. Gillsberry was quiet as usual, and the lively inn was uncharacteristically silent. Shadows passed in the dimly lit windows, indicating signs of activity.


    The young man first settled Cloud underneath the warm lodging of the stables, then slowly walked toward the inn with the flower in one hand and Evander''s spear in the other. He swung open the wooden door to find that the entire inn was almost completely abandoned, save for a few drunk people who slept beside the fireplace and the bard, who found solace by resting his head in a vacant rocking chair.


    He slowly headed to the old man''s quarters and saw him sleeping in his bed. He was surrounded by a few of Evander''s fellow hunters who had tended to his needs. Godric was careful not to wake them up as he approached the old man. He slowly opened his clothing to inspect the damage using his mana-imbued vision and there it was, centered in the middle of his leg, was a small, pointed spike embedded between muscle and bone. He carefully inspected the scar and noticed that the old man''s mana was concentrated on stopping the decay from progressing even further--he hated himself for not being able to spot this the first time they had met.


    The young man was greatly impressed by how Evander''s father stayed alive for this long. Based on his training, Godric concluded that he concentrated his mana onto the wound, effectively stopping the sickness from spreading. Sacrificing the usage of mana to prolong his life was a risk, but it showed his mastery and will to live. Hearing his story from Evander also made Godric understand his principles in life--realizing everything he had gone through, his respect for the old man was raised to even greater heights.


    Godric placed the flower on his hand, hoping it would cure him. He could see that the old man''s breathing slowed down and steadied as he noticed a smile spread across his face, almost as if he was reliving a dream that he had long forgotten.


    Godric went out of the room and placed two coins on the counter. He was exhausted. His body needed rest. He needed time to collect his thoughts, and his emotions were unstable. He had still yet to come to terms with the loss of his friend, and so the young man hoped that a good night''s sleep would do the work. Godric headed up the staircase toward the inn''s second floor and made his way to the edge of the wooden hallway where his room was.


    He peeked inside the room before his own, hoping that Coraline was looking after the wounded man, but neither of the two were present. Godric sighed and unlocked his room. With no time wasted, he fell flat on the bed moments after closing the door. He was simply tired of everything and merely wanted to escape the problems that haunted him.


    <hr>


    Hours passed, and Godric had woken up, feeling well rested. The sun never shone through the window, as the rain from last night continued to pour heavily. He fixed himself up as he was preparing to head back to Mistveil Forest to return the relic of the elves. He stepped outside his room and headed down the stairs, only to find several hunters and the bard huddled near the fireplace.


    "My friends from far and wide," the bard said as he stood atop a pedestal. "I may not be of these lands, but I have heard your tales. One of you has died in pursuit of the great hunt, for the skies above have yet to reveal their grace and cease their tears from falling. The Divine Mother herself weeps for a kindred soul. At this time, may I ask kindly of all those present, that we bow down our heads in silence."


    The room was covered in a veil of tranquility, broken by the singing of a female hunter. Her voice was haunting, yet pleasing to the ears. The words uttered were foreign, but the message was clear enough for Godric to understand.


    A good while passed, and everyone returned to their tables. Godric looked at how every one of them presented themselves and concluded that the Great Hunt was about to begin once again. Many were excited, and some veteran hunters walked around advising those new to the tradition.


    Godric walked toward the old man''s room and noticed it was closed. He knocked on the door and a voice responded in return. "Come in!" It said. Before doing so, he hid the spear underneath the bar counter. Godric opened the door to find the old man, all suited up in his armor. "Oh, it''s you! How nice of you to stay for another night lad!" The old man said as he looked at the mirror. "I''m surprised this still fits me. Hahahaha!" He laughed.


    "Listen, lad, I don''t know why but I feel better than ever. Yesterday, I felt like I was near death''s door, but now I feel as if I were reborn." He continued, all giddy. "The hunt will begin as soon as the rain stops, and the warm embrace of daylight greets us."


    "That''s nice to know," Godric responded. "So, it seems that you''re finally able to ride out once again," he continued as he faked a smile.


    "Aye, hopefully, I still know how to swing a sword. I aim to make the best of this hunt, for this shall be my last. Won''t you be joining us?" The old man asked. "I''m afraid not, old man. I still have somewhere else to be--I bid you all a happy hunting, though."


    "Petyr," the old man spoke out of the blue, confusing Godric. "I''m sorry?" He replied.


    "You can call me Petyr. I no longer feel like an old man, so there''s no need to call me that way. Also, may the Divines bless you and the roads you will travel." Petyr remarked. Godric responded with a nod of respect and quietly left the room, leaving the oblivious noble of House Huntingborne to his lonesome.


    Godric picked up the spear from underneath the bar counter. He checked his leather satchel to see if the necklace was still there, which it was. With no wasted motion, he headed toward the exit and out where the heavy rain greeted him. Godric walked on the slippery, cobblestone path and headed south where Mistveil Forest was. He never looked back as he covered his face with his elven cloak.


    "Do you plan on leaving without even saying goodbye?" A voice cut through the rainfall. Godric turned and saw Coraline, her golden hair and red dress all soaked.


    "Sorry about that," Godric responded with a tinge of guilt. "I thought I had slipped through everyone''s attention unnoticed."


    "Well, you did manage to fool everyone except me," Coraline said as she approached Godric. "It was you, wasn''t it?" She questioned him.


    "What do you mean by that?" He responded. "Don''t play dumb with me, Godric of Rosetown. You lied to me, you idiot. You went to the caverns and found the cure. I returned home to fetch a few things and went inside the old man''s room to find a flower. I wondered who put it there, so I went to the stables and immediately found Cloud. From that point on I already knew it was you. I then tried to enter your room but found the door locked." She explained as she got close to his face.


    "I traveled to Rosetown and bought the things you asked for the old man but every hour I spent helping him, I had a bad feeling building up inside me," Coraline continued as she broke into tears. "I was worried sick! The gold you provided was more than enough--I thought you were a blessing sent to at least help ease the old man''s last days and here I was, a simple, dumb girl, thinking that I sent you to die!" She slapped Godric hard, then buried her face on his chest, weeping.


    Coraline struck Godric''s armor repeatedly to the point where each hit sounded painful. The young man then stopped her from harming herself further and held her tight in a warm embrace, making sure that his cloak would cover her head as well from the downpour.


    "I''m sorry," Godric whispered after a long period of silence. "It was my burden to bear. I didn''t want you to worry about me, so I lied. The things we saw there...no one should never go through what we had to endure."


    "W-we?" Coraline asked, confused. "Evander. He was alive, Coraline. We took down the monster that held the flower. In the end, he sacrificed his life just so I could be here. He''s the reason why I still breathe." Godric responded, defeated. He wanted to curse, cry, and simply be angry at the world--but he could not bring himself to do anything. He was simply tired.


    Coraline was left stunned at the revelation. She looked at the weapon in Godric''s hand and came to realize that the spear belonged to the former head of House Huntingborne.


    "D-does the old man...?" She asked.


    "No. I spared him from the truth. It was a painful choice, and I thought about it for a long time but eventually went against the idea. No parent should ever live long enough to mourn for their children. He already accepted his death long ago, and I couldn''t bring myself to let him experience the same feeling again." Godric responded.


    "I-I see... what happens now?" Coraline stepped back and looked at Godric.


    "I have to go south. My task is not yet done. Others still wait for me. The longer I stay here, the longer I put myself and everyone else at risk." He responded vaguely, being careful to not reveal more about his true mission.


    "...You do know that you have the choice to not go back," Coraline responded as her face turned a shade of red, hidden underneath the rain.


    "What?" Godric stopped and stared at her, confused at what she said.


    "I said you don''t have to force yourself into doing this--risking your life because other people tell you that you should. Being out here already means you''re free from their hold," Coraline said. "Remember that you''re not bound to anyone''s whims or orders. I can see that you''re a free-spirited person Godric--and a kind-hearted one at that, too, but I see you''re shackled. You can never find happiness by pleasing everyone all the time." This left the young man at a loss for words.


    "...You can stay here instead, or find sanctuary in Stagvalley. House Huntingborne is known for--"


    "I''m sorry, Coraline." Godric cut her off. "I truly am sorry. However, I owe these people my life. I have to do this, or else I''ll never be able to live with myself." Coraline bowed her head down in embarrassment. "I-I see..." she replied as she slowly stepped away from Godric. "Well, I''m sorry to have bothered you." She then began to turn toward the inn.


    Before she could make another step, Godric approached her and held her tight. No words were spoken, and they allowed the rain to pour down their heads.


    "Thank you, Coraline Applewood," Godric whispered as he touched her face. "I''ll come back from time to time, I promise. Try not to be a stranger, okay?" Coraline looked at him and sighed. She was tired at this point but smiled nonetheless.


    "All right," She replied. "Off you go now, Godric of Rosetown. The wide world awaits you."


    Godric looked at Coraline and bid her goodbye. The rain was now slowly beginning to stop, and rays of sunlight were finally shining through the dark clouds. He now only had one goal in mind: to return to Mistveil Forest alive.


    <hr>


    The journey back was treacherous, as the roads were now infested with soldiers wearing green cloaks. Each time Godric spotted a soldier, he would hide himself from their view and watch from afar how innocents were being violently interrogated or punished without reason. Godric wanted to reveal himself and help, but that would do nothing but risk everything he ever worked for.


    He was confused as to what was going on. He knew that he was being hunted for being a murderer, but for soldiers of House Polifio to do such acts was too much, even for his standards. What is going on here? He asked himself. With the way things were going, he knew he had no more time to spare, and hastened his journey back to King Ithilien''s realm.


    Godric took a more careful approach and opted to take a different route back. It took him almost a fortnight, but eventually, he found himself in front of the elves'' forests. He took a deep breath and entered. Mistveil Forest was still the same as he remembered. The once-strange flora and animals from before now greeted him as if he were a long-lost friend. He was worried that he would find it difficult to find the northern entranceway into the inner kingdom, but it only took him a few hours until he saw what appeared to be signs of life, as a moss-covered pathway was now visible, along with stone pillars of elvish design.


    "Halt!" A voice shouted. Godric looked up to the dark trees overhead and saw that there were at least a dozen archers above with their bows already ready and aimed at him. "Who goes there?" an elf asked.


    Godric removed his cloak, revealing himself to the elves who immediately lowered their weapons and gasped in shock. "The mortal has returned!" The elf shouted at his comrade. "Open the gates and immediately inform the King!" He barked.


    The ancient, wooden gates shuddered intensely, and afterward, slowly opened. Godric entered the elven kingdom and was warmly met with a roaring crowd who anticipated his return. The king''s guard intervened to provide the young man a direct passage toward the royal hall, where he was told that the king and his children were waiting for him.


    He entered the inner sanctum with the king''s guard marching alongside him. They walked on the magical pathway that curved and bent in different directions. For the first time in a while, Godric felt at peace. It almost felt like a lifetime ago when he first set foot on these same steps. It felt nostalgic, terrifying, and intoxicating all at the same time. Eventually, they found themselves at the front of the royal hall.


    "They await for you inside," A soldier said. "Please, enter."


    Godric responded with a nod and swung open the doors. True enough, there seated on the Adhirala throne was the great elven king Ithilien. Beside him on each side were his children: the twins Anar¨®r? and l¨®m?.


    Godric walked in silence until he reached the center of the hall, where he stopped and knelt on one knee as he bowed his head, with the spear in plain sight. He heard an audible gasp, and out of the corner of his eye, saw Anar¨®r? speak something to her father and walk past Godric without saying a word--leaving the throne room as quickly as she could.


    "Godric," Ithilien spoke, breaking the silence that filled the room after Anar¨®r?''s exit. "You''ve returned to Mistveil Forest, battered and bruised--broken, even, if I might say. I can see that you have been through so much. Were you successful?" The king''s voice wavered, but Godric pretended not to notice.


    "I believe so, Your Majesty." Godric took his leather pouch and carefully opened it, taking out and revealing the dazzling necklace--the tears of the crescent moon. The young man thought he would have grown accustomed to its beauty, but he was mistaken. Ithilien gasped out of shock, while l¨®m? was awestruck, staring at the necklace in disbelief.


    "T-the tears...our sacred relic..." l¨®m? began to speak as he approached Godric. "My friend...you have done us a great service." The elven prince hugged him, catching Godric off guard, who responded with a hug as well, albeit a weak one.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "...You''re welcome. It was the least I could do." He replied.


    "I have to tell the druids about this," the prince uttered excitedly. "If I may, Father." Ithilien granted his son permission to leave, which resulted in Godric and the king being the only two beings left in the royal hall.


    "On behalf of the entire elven race Godric, we thank you. We will hold to our word: you are absolved of your sins. All elven realms, by my name and honor as King of Mistveil Forest, will be open to you. You will no longer want food or shelter as long as you find yourself underneath elvish sanctuary." The king bowed his head in respect for Godric.


    "Thank you, Your Majesty. Truly, I am honored--but I wouldn''t have made it here without help. You see--"


    "Yes, Thrillseeker." Ithilien cut Godric off. "It was a gift given to us by House Huntingborne many moons ago. Almost a thousand years, if memory serves me correctly. It was meant to serve as the bridge between our two Great Houses." The king continued.


    "How fares Evander?" He asked.


    Godric was caught off guard. "H-how do you...?"


    "He frequently visited us, bringing gifts. We found his company to be quite pleasing. My daughter was also fond of him as they both are natural warriors." The king said.


    "Well, Your Majesty...he''s gone," Godric responded. "He saved me from being killed during the fight. We both thought we had defeated the monster, but we were caught unaware. It showed its true form and was about to kill me when he bravely launched himself on top of it and destroyed the cavern''s foundations, toppling the cave and crushing both him and the monster." Godric recalled the events that happened. Sharing the experience helped him cope with the guilt, but it still was not enough.


    "I see. I will write to House Huntingborne regarding this matter. They too, have my sincerest gratitude." Ithilien lightly grasped Godric shoulder, sensing his mood.


    "Do not be too hard on yourself, young one. If there is anything I''ve learned in all my lifetimes, you cannot save everyone." He looked at Godric again, then turned and headed toward his private quarters.


    "Your Majesty, if I may ask--" Godric blurted out. "The witch we fought. Before she turned into a monster, her form was an elf. I brushed it off at first, but I noticed that she had strikingly similar features to Anar¨®r?. Could it be that--"


    "Beautiful, wasn''t she?" Ithilien replied in a somber tone. Godric did not respond.


    "Her name was Illyrana. She was the love of my life and the owner of the necklace." The king grasped the necklace softly as if remembering her touch.


    "Before her death, I tasked someone to merge the sacred gemstones and the necklace, forming the tears of the crescent moon. In that way, I could honor her memory by protecting the legacy of our people, whilst keeping her valuable treasure under close watch as we ruled side by side. Imagine my grief after that monster not only killed her but took the relic as well." Ithilien continued as he turned to face the young man.


    "This victory is very personal to me Godric, and without the help of you and Evander, this would not have been possible. For that, you have my eternal gratitude." The king bowed down to Godric, shocking him. Ithilien simply smiled afterward, showing his scarred face, and headed to his quarters.


    <hr>


    The entire kingdom was overjoyed. Godric, a former stranger and enemy, was now redeemed and revered as a hero. The king announced to the entire realm that a grand celebration was to take place immediately in the evening to celebrate the momentous occasion. The inhabitants were ecstatic, for they never thought that their most sacred relic would be returned. They also found joy in the idea that their king was in a visibly pleasant mood, which to them, was a rare sight.


    The feast lasted for hours on end. Songs were sung, food was eaten, and drinks were shared. Godric could not move one step without being noticed or praised. He was seated at the king''s table during the feast but noticed that Anar¨®r? was missing. He continued to smile and celebrate alongside House Alastrassa and the other elves throughout the night.


    Eventually, it came to a point where Godric had the time and opportunity to escape the noise of the festivities. Evander''s death still weighed heavily on his mind. He was grateful for all the appreciation the elves showed him, but deep down, he mostly felt nothing. Smiles and laughs were exchanged but on Godric''s end, it was all for show. He spent the early hours of the morning walking around Mistveil Forest, admiring the beauty of House Alastrassa''s ancient seat as the inhabitants were still away from their homes, being invited into the inner sanctum to celebrate Godric''s triumph.


    The silence that befell the forest was eerie, yet it had a certain charm to it. It eased his mind. He passed through houses and buildings, when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure on top of a structure. Without hesitation, he immediately headed to its position.


    Minutes later, Godric was close enough to inspect who the shadowy figure was. To his surprise, it was Anar¨®r?. She was seated on top of the large structure made out of ancient wood and stone. She seemed to be deep in thought.


    "Took you long enough," Anar¨®r? said, which made Godric chuckle. "You must know by now that you can never sneak up on me."


    "I wasn''t planning to," Godric replied as he approached the elf and sat down beside her. "We missed your presence at the banquet and festivities, you know."


    "I am on patrol."


    "How vigilant of you then, considering that all your companions are in the inner sanctum celebrating while you''re out here by your lonesome. I''m not as dumb as you think I am, Anar¨®r?." Godric remarked.


    The elf sighed in response to his comment. "Fine. I take it you know who the spear belongs to?" she asked him.


    "Regrettably, yes. He could have killed me, you know, but by sheer luck, I managed to snap him back to his senses." Godric told Anar¨®r? the story of how he met Evander in the cavern. Each time he mentioned his name, the elf would smile.


    "That would be Evander. Headstrong, kind-hearted, yet fierce." Anar¨®r? said. "Tell me, is he still..." Godric''s smile then faded, and she immediately understood what she had meant.


    "Oh... I see." Her smile disappeared as she bowed her head in silence. "What happened?"


    Godric then recalled the events that transpired. The minutes spent together turned seamlessly into hours. Anar¨®r? sat in silence as she stared across the outskirts of Mistveil Forest.


    "I see. So he died on his terms," she said. "A warrior to the end--but a stupid one at that," Godric smirked at her comment. "I guess you could say that. I most likely became friends with him because we''re both simple-minded fools." Anar¨®r? laughed at Godric''s jest.


    "The great princess of House Alastrassa, laughing? Now that''s a first." Godric teased her.


    "So I am not afraid to laugh, now? Even individuals such as myself need to find happiness in the simplest of things, lest I risk myself going mad," she responded. Godric looked at her and a thought crossed his mind.


    "Well, Your Highness, here I am--alive and kicking. I think you owe me some answers." Anar¨®r? looked at him as if to say that she already knew what he was referring to. "Ask away, then."


    "Fortnights ago when we first met, everyone accepted me almost immediately, except for you. You stared at me as if I were some pest that needed to be put down, and truth be told--I never liked it. Why?"


    Anar¨®r? looked across the houses and trees, to the distant horizon where the sun was now beginning to rise.


    "...Like I said before, Godric: I was both envious and slightly jealous of you," she responded. "When you came to us, you had nothing. You were free and were given a second chance to start anew. Meanwhile, I grew up here, born and raised to follow rules and do the tasks that are expected from us nobles. I hated every bit of it. Not to mention being born without any trace of mana, I felt like an outcast amongst my kind. I resonated with you in that manner, but in your case, you still had a chance to write your own story."


    Godric fell silent as he listened intently to Anar¨®r?''s words. He could tell that she spoke nothing but the truth and that small detail made every word feel like another stab to the heart.


    "I rebelled from time to time, but the best attempt I ever achieved was to become a captain of the elven patrol. I have had many opportunities to escape, do not get me wrong, but I love my family too much to leave them without a trace. I am grateful for l¨®m?--without him, I would have killed myself long ago." She continued.


    "...And so, I began to slowly accept my fate and everything stayed that way. I did what was expected of me as a noble and as a captain. However, everything changed when another mortal, just like you, stumbled across our realm. Unlike you, he was welcomed like any other since he never did nor plotted anything against our kind, I grew curious, so every time we would meet I asked what the world outside was like, and with each story he told, he never disappointed. For some reason, I grew attached to him." Anar¨®r? began to twirl her hair and rocked back and forth, smiling--almost as if to say she was reliving every memory while she spoke to Godric.


    "However, a day passed when he told me that he had to go away. I knew something was wrong and deep down, a part of me wanted to escape this world and join him--but I hesitated and let him go. I had responsibilities and I felt that in some way, I never made a mark in his life. Days turned into months, and he never returned. I turned bitter and cold, and shut myself out even further from my kind." Godric could see that the elf was devasted and brokenhearted.


    "...I''ve never seen you like this, Anar¨®r?," Godric told her.


    "...What, miserable?"


    "...Vulnerable." He responded.


    Anar¨®r? was silent for a moment. The light had now shone through the trees, bathing her in a bright light. Godric was stunned at her beauty. The fierce, yet isolated elf was now a complete opposite of her usual self. He admired her beauty but knew that her heart already belonged to another, and such a possibility was but a dream.


    "Well then, in that case, I can help you find him," Godric offered to help ease her pain. "Did he say where he was off to? I can start from there." He said as he looked at Anar¨®r?, who still stared off into the distance.


    "Thank you for the kind offer, but there is no need to do so," she replied in a somber tone. "And why is that?" He asked.


    "Because you already carried with you the last remaining memory I have of him when you returned," Anar¨®r? replied. It took Godric a while, but he realized what he had meant.


    "A-Anar¨®r?, I did not mean to--" The young man stuttered.


    "No, it is okay." The elf replied as she stood up and wiped a tear from her eye. "We cannot change what has happened. He died on his terms, that is all that is important." She walked past Godric and headed toward the inner sanctum. "I must go. I have things to attend to." Anar¨®r? said as she began to reach the edge of the rooftop.


    "He never stopped thinking about you, you know," Godric remarked, stopping Anar¨®r? in her tracks. "Before he died, the last words he spoke were of you. He apologizes that he couldn''t follow through with his promise."


    The young man stood and could hear the princess silently sobbing. A moment later, she turned and hugged Godric tightly. Afterward, Godric felt a warm touch across his cheeks, which was followed by the bittersweet, yet ever-loving taste of strawberries on his lips as Anar¨®r? kissed him passionately, which ignited a spark that tingled from the back of his head and throughout his body.


    The moment felt like it lasted for a lifetime. As her lips slowly parted from his, Godric was left speechless and flustered as he heard Anar¨®r? giggle for the first time.


    "Thank you, Godric." She said in a soft, sweet tone as her eyes were locked into his.


    "For what?" The young man asked.


    "For providing me closure with my past--and a chance for love to enter this cold heart once again." She responded with a sincere look.


    The princess stepped back and without another word, left Godric alone as sunlight now illuminated the kingdom under its mellow touch. A new day had risen, and the young man sat back down, dumbfounded.


    <hr>


    Godric spent a few more days inside the elven kingdom, earning his keep. He helped out in the villages and reached out to elves to help him learn more about their culture. He also shared what he had learned growing up, sharing a few ideas invented by Men that even the Elves were astonished by.


    From time to time, he asked Anar¨®r? to help him with his training. Because of Evander, he knew that his weapon had more to it than he thought, and hoped that through combat, he would gain full mastery of it. The elf obliged without hesitation, of course, and never held back against him during their fights.


    Evander''s words were true as Godric now found himself on the losing side each time they fought, proving that the princess was indeed, holding back before they left. The young man found himself glancing at her from time to time, but she never showed any signs of affection whatsoever, despite what happened. Godric, however, found himself happy after noticing that Anar¨®r? was now happier than usual, as he would catch her interacting more with others, and smiling.


    One afternoon, l¨®m? and Godric found themselves walking through the village near the gates, discussing a few things that concerned both the mortal and the elves.


    "It seems that you are finding yourself quite comfortable here, friend." l¨®m? remarked. "Are you planning on settling here? If you do plan on doing so, we have a position on the council ready for you."


    "That''s very generous of you, l¨®m?, I''ll think about it. I do want to travel more though," He replied. "After seeing the world outside my own, I am now craving for more. It would be hard to sit idly here and suddenly find myself growing twigs out of my head--I meant no offense, though."


    The prince laughed at the jest, but the smile on his face suddenly disappeared. There was a look of concern on his face.


    "Do you feel it, Godric?" He asked. It took Godric a while, but he also felt the immense pressure emanating outside the kingdom''s gates. The two of them braced for what was about to come, as the residents scrambled for safety.


    The ancient gates suddenly opened without warning, shocking the two. A bright light shone through the entryway, blinding the prince and mortal. Out of the corner of his eye, Godric spotted three individuals covered by the radiance.


    "Who goes there?!" l¨®m? demanded an answer.


    "Peace, Prince of House Alastrassa," a voice replied. "We bear no ill will." Godric heard eerily silent and synchronized footsteps hit the ground as the three individuals moved forward.


    In a mere blink of a second, King Ithilien materialized out of thin air between the prince and Godric. The mortal knew that this was serious, as the uncontested ruler of Mistveil Forest displayed his unparalleled mana in a showcase of dominance and authority.


    "Good afternoon to you three," Ithilien said, calmly. "I did not receive word that the esteemed Royal Guard of the Capital would visit us. It has been quite some time, after all--if I knew we were expecting company, I would have prepared something ahead of time. Whatever is the matter?"


    The light disappeared to reveal three masked individuals who wore impressive, sleek, hooded white armor with black cloaks. Godric could tell they were magical, refined, and of high quality. They were almost on par, if not better, than what he had.


    "We sincerely apologize for the intrusion, Your Majesty, but we are here on orders from the Capital. All Great Houses are being called--Sir Byronard himself requests your immediate presence and cooperation regarding this pressing concern." Another answered the king''s question.


    "...And what would that be, if I may ask?" The king asked, curious.


    "Your Majesty," the three of them looked at each other, then one of them responded. "Rosetown, the ancient seat of House Polifio, has been utterly destroyed--wiped off the face of the earth. Lord Mikhael and his family are missing, and there have been reports that magic was used." The king''s eyes widened, as he was caught off guard by the troubling news.


    Ithilien looked back at Godric, stunned and at a loss for words. l¨®m? approached the young in an attempt to snap him back to reality, but there was nothing they could do, for all Godric could hear was static, as his world suddenly spiraled down to the deepest parts of the seven hells.

 Ch. 16 -- Rotten Luck

    It all began after he was forced out of the ferry by the pointed tip of an arrow, and fell straight down the unforgiving waters of the Onohill River. The experience was excruciating, as his body had already failed him to the point where he could not even move. He faded in and out of consciousness and along the way, the lodged arrow broke because of the sheer force of the raging stream. Since then, the past few days and nights have been nothing but an entire blur for Hawk.


    The last thing he remembered was briefly waking up on the riverbanks of an unknown place. He heard shouting from a distance and immediately drifted to sleep as he was being carried off. Waking up, he was being tended to by a girl with blonde hair in an unknown, yet comfortable place.


    Hawk wanted to ask a few things, but the girl strongly advised against speaking, saying he needed to focus on regaining his strength. Hawk was adamant at first, but after seeing the girl''s sincerity through her demeanor, he respected her request by thanking her and opted to remain silent.


    After asking for information from the locals and hunters, he found out that he was at The Whiteflower; it was where he and his company originally planned to hide before things all went to shit. Hawk knew that Gillsberry was still located in enemy lands, therefore he decided to lay low until Xhiamas and the rest would arrive. It was also the perfect opportunity to give himself time to recover. He was feeling better than he was a few days prior, but the effects of the arrow wound on his shoulder still lingered.


    Hawk rose from a quiet nap, feeling well-rested. He went down and wanted to ask for a mug of water and bread but noticed a bit of a commotion in the innkeeper''s room. Peeking inside to observe, he saw that the man was now terribly ill, lying in his bed surrounded by others.


    After the gloomy scene, he asked for his midday rations, which he paid for in labor by helping the local people with their daily tasks. In doing so, he overheard a conversation that the girl who had nursed him had set off toward Rosetown to help buy things that could help with the old man''s ailments, despite the things that had happened. It made him smile knowing that there was still kindness, bravery, and innocence in the world, however, an uneasy feeling lingered in his stomach.


    Noon had arrived and the girl returned, bringing what appeared to be Damali flowers--medicinal plants. Not long after, she was called back home which made Hawk realize that the girl belonged to a lower House.


    To kill time and to say thank you for the hospitality, Hawk volunteered to help by cooking food for the inn whenever the cook was overwhelmed by the number of people who went in and out of the inn. For him, it was both a sincere gesture and a tactical move, one that could help earn the trust of the people.


    Hawk glanced out the window and noticed that a number of the hunters were beginning to set out to the fields of House Huntingborne.


    "Where are they off to?" He asked the bard who was playing notes on his simple wooden lyre while seated near the fireplace.


    "Oh, they''re off participating in the traditional hunt. I will be here to record their triumphs and sorrows. After this festival ends, I will carry with me songs that will be remembered for generations to come." The bard replied.


    "I see, then why aren''t you there with them?" Hawk asked him.


    "I...uh...I prefer to stay here, indoors where it is safe for harmless folk like me. Also, they say that the real monsters have yet to come. These hunters support my great dream, and have pledged to tell their tales before I depart from this place." He replied while continuing to play random notes on his instrument, thinking of a new melody or two to pass the time while Hawk silently groaned at the bard''s delusions of grandeur.


    It was quiet throughout the afternoon and the night. The hunters and other locals returned from the hunt by this point, wet from the sudden downpour of rain, and fell into a deep slumber. Hawk spent his time watching over the old man in his chambers, but he too, fell asleep from exhaustion.


    A day had passed, and the hunters gathered in the halls of the inn, preparing themselves for breakfast. Suddenly a villager entered, seemingly terrified as he acted hysterical, like a rabid animal left uncaged.


    "Woah, calm down!" A hunter grabbed him by the shoulder, which snapped the local back to his senses, albeit only for a short while. This caught the attention of everyone.


    "R-R-Rosetown..." The villager muttered to himself repeatedly.


    "What about it?" Hawk asked, seemingly curious.


    "The whole city is gone. House Polifio, buildings, women, children--the ancestral castle itself! Gone!"


    Panic slowly spread amongst the rest of the people inside the inn. This made the innkeeper, who was now healthy as a horse and was wearing armor, to step in and control the chaos.


    "All of you shut it!" He shouted.


    His aggressive voice echoed throughout the inn, and the hall immediately fell silent. Most of them, even the hunters, were shocked at the old man''s change in demeanor, while his peers merely chuckled as if they recalled a memory of when they were still young.


    "If this lad is telling the truth, then there''s no use panicking--now calm down," He handed a mug of water for the man to drink. "Where''d you hear this tale from?" The old man asked.


    "I saw it with my very eyes, Petyr. I embarked on the Tulip Road and I smelled smoke in the distance. Curious, I decided to look into it. Not long after, I could not believe what I saw. Rosetown was gone--not a single soul, nor mortar brick, was left standing." The villager responded, still shaken.


    Hawk could see the truth in his eyes, but had difficulty believing it himself.


    "Well then, this is no laughing matter," Petyr said with concern. "Send word to the Lady Tryst of House Huntingborne. Tell her that the message came from me. She''ll handle it from there."


    He paced the room, thinking of what to do next. He then turned to the crowd after reaching a decision.


    "All of you, get some well-deserved rest. The hunt will be put on hold until we get a bloody idea of what''s happening. Am I understood?" Petyr commanded. Everyone coherently agreed to the order without hesitation except for a few people, who were taken aback by the turn of events.


    "Is this a joke? You don''t get to order me around, old man." A young, hot-headed, foreign male seated next to Hawk stood up and spoke, gaining attention. "Who in the world are you to say the hunt is suspended? You''re just the innkeeper."


    "Watch your tone, boy," Hawk grumbled and grabbed the rambling idiot by the shoulder. "Be mindful of where you''re standing."


    "Get your fucking hands off me."


    The arrogant male shrugged Hawk''s hand off his shoulder and stared at Petyr, who looked back at him blankly. He approached the innkeeper and started pushing him, goading him into a fight. This left a bad taste in the mouths of the other hunters present, who immediately grabbed hold of their weapons, but Petyr was unmoved.


    "Calm yourself, lad," Petyr responded as the man continued to taunt and push him back. "I think you need time to cool off. Coraline--kindly escort our guest outside and give him something to drink." The blonde girl who tended to Hawk appeared out of the crowd, carrying a mug of ale.


    "Please follow me, good sir." Coraline approached the man as she softly held his arm and gestured for him to head toward the door.


    The arrogant fool suddenly knocked the mug out of the girl''s hand, dousing her dress, and then spat on the floor, catching Coraline and the others off-guard.


    "Now hold on--first, a weak old man who is out of touch with the world and is clearly over his head starts barking orders," He pointed at Petyr who stared at him with his deep brown eyes, and then shifted to Coraline who was being attended to by the hunters.


    "And now, a bitch like her walks around and acts as if I''m some mutt on a leash who follows as he''s told? I would rather die first than be told what to do!" He shouted.


    Hawk and everyone in the inn was getting pissed at the bastard. As much as he wanted to knock some sense into him, he laid low lest he risk gathering attention to himself. The hot-headed man drew his blade, which made the other hunters draw their weapons in response.


    "We are hunters! Hunters are supposed to run wild and free! What use is there in allowing ourselves to be shackled to these useless chains of commands and law-"


    The man gagged and was never able to finish what he wanted to say, for the timid innkeeper had already cut his throat with a bloodied metal dagger.


    "You talk too much," Petyr said as blood gushed out of the man''s throat before his body dropped to the wooden floor. He looked at the innkeeper with fear as his eyes pleaded for help.


    "You''re not from here, but in Primera, we have laws. They are what makes this kingdom. The rest of you would do well to remember that." He stared into the eyes of every person in the room, sending a message that Hawk could feel deep down in his soul.


    Petyr looked at the man who was inching closer to Death''s door. The bastard grabbed hold of his leg, desperately begging for mercy, but the innkeeper merely glared at him in response.


    "Disrespecting the owner of the establishment was one thing, and I let you off easy, but insulting a respected member of a House, not to mention the sweetest person that everyone around these parts knows--now that is something I cannot let slide, boy. You lived as a hunter, but now you die as an animal."


    Plunging his dagger into the man''s forehead put an end to his misery. The sight was gruesome for others to stomach as even the bard found himself vomiting after witnessing the execution.


    "Someone clean up this mess. Drag his body out to the fields for the beasts to eat. I''ll not honor this pest with a proper burial."


    Petyr approached Coraline and asked the girl if she was okay. A few others went on to clean the blood-stained floor and carry the dead body away, while Hawk was left speechless at what he saw. The old man''s reflexes were unearthly--it was too fast for a normal person to have seen. It was as if he was looking at an older version of Xhiamas.


    Such precision and speed, Hawk thought to himself. The old man''s reflexes, accompanied by the preceding events made him even more wary of the people surrounding him. One wrong move, and he would wind up dead like the person before him. He stared outside the window in silence and up toward the night sky as the dead body was unceremoniously dragged by force through the mud and toward the unforgiving fields.


    <hr>


    The rest of the day went by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it, it was already the early hours of the next morning. The stars were still out, and the sun had yet to rise. Hawk managed to get a good amount of sleep before heading outside to practice his archery skills. It had been a while since he had seen combat, and he needed to be in fighting condition.


    "Seven hells... it still hurts. I hope whoever shot me down had a good laugh because I''ll be giving him more than a bloody shot to the shoulder." Hawk muttered as he swung his arm around and stretched. He borrowed a simple bow from one of the hunters, and arrows for a few rounds of practice to return himself to fighting form.


    Suddenly, he felt that he was being watched. Hawk motioned for the dagger strapped to his thigh, but a hand immediately stopped him from moving.


    "Well, you''re up and early." It was the innkeeper, dressed in simple cloth and leather. Hawk immediately calmed down.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Thank you for the work you''ve provided for the inn. However, it is quite odd. You see, you never struck me as a person who uses the bow and arrow. After observing your behavior for some time, all brooding and quiet, I mistook you for someone studying to be a scholar." Petyr said, walking around as he admired the sweet, morning breeze coursing from the Huntingborne mountains.


    "And I never expected you to be quite skilled, good sir. A few days ago you were mere moments from embracing Lady Death herself, and now you stand a different person, reinvigorated. Last night was quite the event, eh?" He asked, attempting to make small talk.


    "... All right. Let us drop the acts, skip the pleasantries, and move on to the important things, lad. You already know I''m more than what meets the eye, and I know you have quite a story to tell. It''s been some time since I''ve seen a body flow down a river. " Petyr stepped up and stood in front of Hawk.


    "When we carried you here to treat your wounds I welcomed you without hesitation as we here treat all equally. However, it was me who personally removed the arrowhead from your shoulder. As a guest of my establishment and technically as one of your saviors, I think it is common courtesy that I am treated to an answer of sorts. Now, kindly state your business with House Polifio." Petyr bluntly stated.


    Hawk was not bothered by how the innkeeper knew about their conflict with the Great House but rather had a more concerning issue about how he would explain their situation. Gillsberry was still under the Polifio''s domain which made everything complicated. Eventually, he gave in and explained everything in detail to the old man, who nodded in silence after hearing his story.


    "So... you''ve met the Arrows... and had a chance meeting with the Warden of the West himself. Quite an interesting turn of events if you ask me." The old man responded in a doubtful tone.


    "You could say that, sir. It all sounds mad, I know. But I have spent weeks thinking about how a budding baker like me would ever wind up as a pawn in a bigger game--and yet here we are." Hawk jested, while Petyr chuckled at the statement.


    "A pawn, eh? It seems you''ve realized that something bigger is at play here, and have seamlessly accepted your role in all of this. Not too many people have had the same insights as you when first realizing the truth, and for that, you have my praise." The innkeeper smiled and reached out to shake his hand which Hawk accepted, but Petyr never let his grip loosen.


    "Now tell me, you and your companions have been blessed and cursed with such knowledge, what do you intend to do with it?" His tone was quiet and cold. Everything immediately fell silent--almost as if the world had decided to eavesdrop on their conversation.


    The tension was palpable in the air. Hawk thought he had already befriended the man, but he was wrong. Once again, he felt the deadly presence from last night emerge, and because of this exact moment, he truly felt like the pawn he said he was. Looking into Petyr''s eyes, he knew one wrong move would decide his fate. With each passing second, the shooting grounds felt more and more smaller. Hawk could envision a grave dug right in front of where he stood. People could pass by, and no one would ever know that he was buried eight feet under.


    The decision was hard but decided to let everything on his mind out in the end.


    "Well, we escaped, we fought--barely survived at that. If I die at this instant, then I die. But deep down, a part of me wishes that I could have at least paid back the people who gave me a second chance at life; to make their lives a bit brighter. Apart from what I know, if I am unable to at least accomplish that, then I will be carrying that regret in the afterlife, forever."


    Closing his eyes, he waited for steel to pierce his flesh--but it never came. What came next instead was a loosened grip and an old man, smiling once again after he had opened his eyes.


    "That''s a good lad," Petyr turned around and headed toward the inn. "We''ll be serving breakfast soon. Little Tom bought us fresh batches of eggs from the nearby village earlier. Finish whatever business you were up to and head inside if you''re hungry." He then left without another word--seamlessly wearing his facade of a gentle and kind-hearted innkeeper back on again for the world to see.


    Hawk felt relief knowing that as of the moment, Gillsberry was safe for him and his friends. For days he waited anxiously for them and not much time was left until they would arrive. They never knew he still lived, so before he returned to practice, he silently hoped his appearance would brighten their day and put their worries to rest.


    A few hours passed, and the radiant dawn peeked through the woods. Sunlight had now bathed the halls of The Whiteflower in a beautiful glow. Hawk sat down with a few villagers, sharing stories while enjoying freshly cooked meals when out of nowhere, noises filled the streets of Gillsberry. Petyr, the villagers, the hunters still at the inn, and Hawk peeked out the windows to investigate the commotion.


    There, marching and all lined up in formation were soldiers in armor donning green cloaks embroidered with a golden rose.


    Hawk almost choked on his meal. Fuck! Of all times, why now? He thought to himself.


    Petyr stepped back and immediately noticed the shift in Hawk''s behavior. "Baker, follow me. I need to have a word with you regarding our new guests. They appear to be in the hundreds, and I''m afraid our current supplies will not be enough." Hawk understood the message and stood up to follow the innkeeper inside his quarters.


    "Well, this complicates things. It is still too early in the morning and my day is already ruined. You need to get out of here before you''re caught." Petyr warned him as he pulled back a candlelight that hung from the stone wall, revealing a secret passage.


    "This passage will take you east of here--into the Duskenvale Coppice. Hide there until the situation is clear. After you find the exit, there will be a cobblestone fountain with a broken marble statue of a lion. There you must wait. Not to worry, I will inform your friends that you''ll be waiting for them."


    "Thank you for this, old man. Why are you helping me? I''m planning on becoming an Arrow--shouldn''t you be handing me over? You could get a huge sum of gold for turning over a wanted criminal."


    Petyr laughed at the statement. "Look around you lad. Do you think I need gold? No. As long as I''m breathing and surrounded by good people, that would be enough. Also, let''s say that I share a somewhat similar disdain with Lord Dunwick regarding the Polifios, but I always found myself to have been the more reasonable one."


    Hawk''s mind was too busy to look into why the two figures were acquainted with one another. He looked around the room instead for something that would help him in case he found himself in trouble.


    "Use this," Petyr handed him an intricately designed compact bow; it looked powerful, and looked like it was an heirloom based on how it was in perfect condition. Hawk took a moment to test how well it would function--to his surprise, it suited him perfectly.


    "I''d like for you to use this. Consider it as a token of appreciation from Gillsberry itself. I''ve heard that you''re growing to be quite popular with the townsfolk; how you''ve helped them with their work and all. That''s more than I can say for most of the sods outside."


    "My thanks, old man, but I couldn''t possibly--"


    "Now, now. It''s bad manners to refuse a gift. I will have no more talk regarding this matter. Take it and go, for I have guests to attend to." Petyr headed toward the doorway and fixed himself up as soldiers began to enter the inn, hungry and thirsty. At the same time, Hawk descended the hidden passageway and into the dusty and dimly lit passage, with the entrance slowly closing behind him.


    <hr>


    He ran for almost half an hour, but he was able to reach the end of the passageway. Exhausted, he pulled the cloth that was pinned to cover the exit, only to find that the cloth itself was also covered by false shrubbery. Hawk stepped outside and finally breathed in the fresh, forest air. He found himself in a rather peculiar place as the trees looked thin and pale in color. The only things left of value were the rubbles of crumbled-down buildings and the marble statue.


    "A sad place if I do say so myself. Wonder what happened here?"


    He walked around to observe his surroundings and found a place to sit down and wait. The place was awfully quiet and Hawk thought he''d already grown accustomed to the deafening sounds of silence, but this one in particular had an eerie tone, one that sent chills down his spine.


    "Who goes there?" He asked as the sounds echoed around him, inching closer and closer. Hawk prepared a shot already but no enemy was in sight. There was no wind, but the scattered leaves of the dying trees blew across the ruins, covering his sight. Momentarily blinded, he heard the disfigured sound behind him and let loose his arrow. What came next was a dying cry of despair and a thud onto the cobblestone.


    It was a raven; its colors were as black as obsidian but were now stained with crimson, and had a parchment strung to one of its skinny legs.


    Retrieving the arrow, he attempted to pick up the bird and remove the parchment, wondering what message would have been written. For all he knew, it would have been information that could prove useful for Xhiamas. He was successful in doing so, but only found scribblings of symbols that confused him.


    "What in the seven hells is this?" Hawk asked himself. He then immediately felt a sharp pain hit the back of his head, dropping him to the ground.


    Groaning in pain, he was still conscious but could only crawl away from where he stood as his legs failed him. He turned around to find his assailant and saw a hooded figure who decorated himself with iron links of varied shades of color around the neck, armed with an iron staff, dressed in a black robe.


    "Who are you, stranger?" The hooded figure asked in a quiet, male voice, as he readjusted his weapon and pointed it at Hawk, who lay helpless on the ground. Hawk fixated his gaze on the stranger. "I should be asking the same thing." He responded as he spat at his feet in an act of defiance.


    "Wrong answer." In one swift motion, the stranger hit Hawk across the temple, knocking him unconscious. He then picked up the dead raven and retrieved the parchment. Afterward, he placed the polearm behind his back and dragged Hawk''s body deeper into the forest, away from the ruins and marbled statue where the baker had hoped to meet his companions.

 Ch. 17 -- An Unexpected Turn of Events

    For four days and nights, Wyatt and company drifted along the Turtle Stream at a steady pace. The river was located deep within Browgan lands, and the Warden of the West made good on his promise to secure their safety. From time to time, the four would spot the sentry assigned to them who ensured that they were not being followed and that everything was secured further along the river''s path. When they were almost where the two waters would meet and would now enter the Polifio''s domain, the sentry called out saying that his task was fulfilled, and he signaled at them, indicating good wishes on their journey. It was not long after that they finally reached the riverbanks near Gillsberry.


    "Quickly. We''re almost there." Xhiamas said as the others quickly unpacked their gear and headed toward the clearing to recheck their supplies.


    "Let''s see...one...two...yes, we still have enough food here if ever slight changes to our route happen again." Cassian proclaimed to the group as Flint carried the other bags from the ferry.


    "We''re right on schedule. I''ve traversed this stream countless times; the road ahead leads to Gillsberry, where the Whiteflower awaits. Rest assured, the innkeeper is a good man. You''ll find no danger there, provided you behave yourselves and keep your blades." He said as Cassian looked at him.


    "I think that only applies to you good sir, as you''ve noticed--we''ve been on the run for weeks."


    "And I''ve been on the run for years," Flint responded. "I''m only giving you advice. It depends entirely on you whether you heed it or not."


    "He''s right. He knows this place better than the three of us combined, Cassian. It would be best to consider his words." Xhiamas said as Cassian looked down, humbled.


    "I''ll help you with the supplies and have a word with the innkeeper to guarantee your safety. After that, my task is accomplished and I shall meet up with the sentry. From there, we will travel back to Eagleview and report your status to Lord Dunwick." Flint proclaimed.


    "We thank you for your assistance, Flint. Please extend our sincerest gratitude to Lord Dunwick when you return," Xhiamas shook his hand in response. "We could not have made it this far without House Browgan''s help."


    "I''ll make sure he gets it. Now let''s go and find the inn. It is due time that you be treated to a hot meal with a roof over your heads."


    "Wyatt," Cassian called out. The lad stood there in silence as he stared deep into the woods.


    "He''s been quiet the entire time we left Shire''s Eye." He continued as Xhiamas let out a sigh. "Give him time. Even I found difficulty in losing Hawk. Eventually, he will come around." Xhiamas then picked up a bag and shouted at him.


    "Wyatt. Get your things. We are now leaving."


    Wyatt finally snapped back to his senses. He picked up his war hammer and satchel in silence as he joined the others in their march toward Gillsberry.


    It was nearing high noon, and the four of them already spotted the small town in the distance. However, they stopped in their tracks after seeing the Polifio banner and over a hundred footmen resting in Gillsberry. Some found shade under the nearby trees and slept, while others checked on their supplies and barked orders.


    "It was to be expected," Xhiamas replied, somewhat annoyed as Cassian looked at them. "I usually do not back down from a fight, but we are vastly outnumbered here. This would be suicide at best."


    "What are we to do now?" He asked the rest of them, all of whom had tried to think of a solution.


    "...Give me one moment. I may have an idea." Flint headed behind the nearest building he found and signaled them to follow. He rummaged through his bag and smiled as he took out different kinds of clothing. Wyatt looked at a few designs and recognized that these were clothing mainly worn by people from Primera''s western and northern regions. There were also others, but they were foreign to him.


    "I collected these during my travels as a mercenary, and I think you know what I am hinting at. As it so happens, the great hunt is currently being held, and people from across the land are noted to visit the Whiteflower and Huntingborne lands. We''ll blend right in." Flint explained as Xhiamas chuckled.


    "A crafty ruse if I do say so myself," Cassian said as he gathered and wore a piece of foreign clothing. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"


    The group then quickly changed into their new garments and walked straight onto the road littered with the bannermen who hailed from the lower houses and had pledged loyalty to the golden rose. It worked like a charm, for they walked straight past through the huddled forces without raising suspicion. A few eyes noticed their presence, but none felt threatening as their gazes were mostly filled with curiosity.


    It was not long after they reached the doors of the fabled inn. "Well, it certainly does live up to its reputation," Cassian said as he marveled at the design and size of the establishment. "Let''s head inside, shall we?"


    Immediately after, the doors swung open and a soldier flew out, nearly dropping onto Cassian as he dodged while the man crashed onto the ground. Laughter roared from inside the halls, and a burly figure stepped out.


    "A bet is a bet. Pay up or there''ll be more from where that came from," He approached the soldier who sluggishly stood up and dusted the dirt from his armor. "Fine. Here, enjoy your gold." The soldier scoffed as he threw a pouch of gold which the burly man happily caught. He turned and glanced at the four of them, his face intrigued and angry. Afterward, the soldier returned to his post sulking while the burly man walked back into the inn to the sound of cheers.


    "Quite a charming place, eh? Let''s head inside." Flint quipped as he entered, while the others followed suit.


    The place was bustling with activity. Wyatt and Cassian stood in awe at the diversity in the room, as it was filled with people from all across Primera and other nations; bearing foreign features and different clothing. Despite their differences in culture and appearance, they were all unmistakably part of an unshakable brotherhood.


    "Come, let''s go and find Petyr. He should be somewhere around the bar at this time serving ale." True enough, after passing tables and benches that seated hungry soldiers and hunters alike, they found an old man restlessly serving ale and food.


    "Coraline! More veal stew for the folks over the far end table!" He barked at a young girl with golden locks as beautiful and bright as the sun. Wyatt glanced at her and admittedly blushed for he found her attractive, but remained silent as Flint approached the old man to conduct business.


    "Petyr!" Flint called out to him, and he immediately turned his head and grinned after seeing Flint.


    "Flint, good to see you! It''s been ages since we last met." They exchanged greetings and shook hands. "How''s the mercenary life these days--still making a profit?" Petyr asked.


    "You could say that. You look healthy, old man, but it appears that we have more pressing matters at hand." Flint gestured at the three to approach the bar counter. He then spoke a few words into the old man''s ear.


    "Oh, you''re right on time then. All of you, follow me to my quarters." He said as he turned to the burly man from earlier. "Little Tom! I have to attend to something. You have the bar counter. Also, help Coraline out first, would you?" Little Tom nodded in response as he headed towards the kitchen, where the girl from earlier was helping out as well.


    The five of them then entered Petyr''s room. The loud noises of the inn slowly drowned out as the innkeeper closed and locked the door. For some odd reason, Wyatt felt uncomfortable. He looked at Cassian and noticed that he was sweating and breathing heavily. Finally, he turned to Xhiamas and was surprised to see that despite maintaining his calm demeanor, his face looked troubled; almost as if he was confused.


    Out of instinct, he stepped back and gripped his hammer tight, for he knew something felt off.


    "Cut it out, old man. That''s not a good way to make a good first impression for your guests." Flint blurted out as Petyr turned around to look at the four of them. "I just had to know if the stories behind you were true. Well, you passed. Good job." He smiled, and in an instant, all feelings of discomfort and tension disappeared.


    "What in the seven hells was that?" Cassian asked the old man, who chuckled at him. "You''re a funny one! I thought you''d already know of this by now."


    "That was magic was it not? Lord Dunwick did the same thing to us back in Shire''s Eye. The only difference was that his form displayed pure power, while yours..." Wyatt''s words failed him, unable to comprehend the sensation.


    "Magic? It appears that someone knows of the concept already." Petyr replied.


    "Xhiamas explained the concept to us while traveling along the Turtle Stream. I found it difficult to believe, but after witnessing what Lord Dunwick did and what happened just now, I am sure it was a form of magic." Xhiamas smiled after knowing that Wyatt was indeed listening, and was not truly lost after what happened at the two rivers.


    "To be more specific, we call that Aura magic. It is an advanced tier of mana manipulation. Anyone who knows magic has it, but only a few know how to use it as it requires a deep understanding of oneself. Dunwick--the battle-hungry oaf that he is, naturally has raw power as his Aura, while my love for hunting turned my Aura magic into something that murderers possess; which would be killing intent. I''m sorry if I caught you off guard--well, almost all of you, as this one over here managed to stay calm despite my efforts." He turned and focused his attention on Xhiamas.


    "You must be Xhiamas. There''s no doubt about it. You carry yourself differently from these two."


    He then grabbed a chair, sat down, and relaxed himself. "Now, I have to ask: where is the head scout of the Arrows headed off to with the son of the Ironclad himself, and a medical practitioner?" Petyr let out a wry smile.


    The three of them were caught off guard by Petyr''s question. There was no possible way in Primera the old man knew of their identities. Flint was with them the entire time, while Lord Dunwick only promised safety in his borders.


    "H-how-" Wyatt began to ask, but was cut off by the innkeeper.


    "How do I know your identities? Quite simple, to be honest. About four or five days ago, some man washed up on our riverbanks and we nursed him back to health. Let''s say he had quite the story to tell me." He explained.


    The three felt relieved that Hawk was still alive, but a thought crossed their mind. Wyatt and Cassian immediately raised their weapons toward the old man.


    "What did you do to him? Where is he now?" Wyatt asked angrily, almost as if he demanded an answer.


    "Why are the young ones so eager to die nowadays? I just cut someone''s throat yesterday and had him fed to the monsters in the Huntingborne fields. Do you want to follow in his footsteps?"


    The two were beyond angry, but Xhiamas immediately stepped in between them and punched the two, knocking them down on the ground. He then turned to Petyr and bowed his head. "My sincerest apologies for that, good sir. All of us are still weary from the travel, and they simply allowed their emotions to get the best of them--I also admit that I too, was taken aback by this."


    "I jest! No need to apologize. It was in bad taste for me to make light of the situation as well," Petyr responded as he stood up and approached the far side of the room, near a candlelight laid on top of a padded surface. "I gave him my bow and sent him to Duskenvale Coppice to hide from these folks," Pulling the candlelight off, a dusty and cramped passageway appeared.


    "At the end of this passage, there should be an abandoned town with a broken marble statue. He is waiting for you there."


    Wyatt approached Petyr and bowed his head down and apologized. "I was a fool. Forgive me for earlier, sir. We are indebted to you." Petyr patted him on the shoulder in response. "Indeed, you are. You can repay that debt immediately, however, by at least staying for a meal. The Turtle Stream is known to sap a man''s strength due to its distance. You folks must be starving."


    True enough, all four of the group''s stomachs rumbled at the mention of food, resulting in a burst of laughter from Petyr. "Well! That settles it. Stay for dinner. I''ll be sure to provide you with the best we have to offer--free of charge, of course."


    <hr>


    And so it was that they decided to stay for a while under the hospitality of the innkeeper. The four were provided hot food and cold water, which were enough to replenish their strength and increase their morale for the journey ahead. Xhiamas and Cassian ravishingly ate their share and asked for more. Flint and Petyr were lost in conversation while Wyatt was the odd one out; eating his food by his lonesome in a quiet corner of the establishment without uttering a word.


    "Is the food not up to your standards, good sir?" A female voice spoke behind him. It was the girl from earlier. Wyatt stared deep into her bright blue eyes, which reflected his image. "I can go and ask the cook to fetch you something else if--"


    "No! Please! The meals are delicious. I can guarantee that, milady." Wyatt cut her off mid-sentence, embarrassed at his demeanor. "Apologies if I seem too distant at the moment. My mind is fixated on other things." He then quickly turned and gobbled his food, almost vanishing within mere minutes.


    The girl giggled at his behavior. "You''re quite an odd fellow! You remind me of someone who passed here not too long ago, but at least you have proper manners. Oh! Speaking of, my name would be Coraline of House Applewood. Nice to meet you." Coraline extended her hand while Wyatt looked at her, hesitant to introduce himself.


    "Well...does the man have a name?" She asked as she waited for his response.


    "Ahh..apologies. My name is Wyatt, and I''m from Shire''s Eye." He shook her hand after an extended wait. "It''s nice to meet you, milady." Wyatt was careful with his words for he already recognized the Applewoods as a lower house loyal to the Polifios. Although known for their welcoming nature and kindness, he could not risk revealing too much of himself.


    "Nice to meet you too, Wyatt. It''s nice to see that the Whiteflower receives guests from even the lands of Lord Browgan. Quite an impressive weapon you have there." She glanced at the war hammer created by his father. "Is this yours?"


    "It is now. My father was a blacksmith by trade. He gave this to me as a parting gift before he recently passed."


    "I see...I''m sorry for your loss. I''ll be sure to pray to the Divine Mother for his safe travel across the rivers of the Lady Death." She responded somberly, feeling genuine sorrow for Wyatt''s loss. Wyatt''s fondness for her grew ever stronger after witnessing such compassion, something he had almost forgotten ever since his world turned upside down.


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    "The tales about the Applewoods are true. You are indeed too kind, milady. My company and I thank you."


    "Oh, hush. It does not take much to show kindness to others. Place yourselves in their shoes and look at the world through their eyes. If only everyone were like this, the world would be better now. But alas, the race of Men never seems to change." She stared across the room, out toward the sea of hunters and soldiers and her eyes fixated on a certain spot, almost as if remembering an event.


    A few minutes passed, and the doors to the inn swung open. The sulking soldier from earlier barged into the halls accompanied by a few other men.


    "They''re still here. I''m sure of it." He said to his companions. "Lock the doors. Every able-bodied soldier in this room, I command you to search every civilian. I''ve received word that the troublemakers from Shire''s Eye have already made their way here. Lord Caine wants their heads on a spike by the end of the day."


    The hunters were caught off guard as they were suddenly questioned while they were stripped of their weapons immediately.


    "What''s the meaning of this?" Petyr stepped in and demanded an answer from the soldier who had issued the order.


    "This is a direct command from Lord Caine Dewblossom. An abandoned ferry was spotted near the riverbanks of Gillsberry. Its design perfectly matched the description provided by the eyewitnesses at Shire''s Eye. The ferry was used by wanted criminals who caused an uproar, resulting in the deaths of thirty or so foot soldiers. We are to question each person present and execute the culprits if found. Lord Dewblossom wants these people dead, trials be damned." He explained.


    "Well, that complicates things then. You see, the Huntingbornes founded this establishment, and has been marked as a haven for all races. I''m afraid you''ll have to stop this madness, good sir." Petyr responded as he glanced at Xhiamas and company, almost as if to send a signal that they had to leave immediately.


    "We do not mean to intrude on your hospitality, innkeeper. We are following orders on behalf--"


    "I wasn''t asking, son. I was issuing a command. Stop this at once or I guarantee you, things will get ugly."


    As if on cue, every hunter in the room gathered their weapons and immediately prepared for a fight. The tension in the room was palpable, as the soldiers backed off but were prepared as well, for they already had their weapons at the ready. The foot soldiers outside outnumbered the hunters three-to-one, but not a single hunter budged.


    "We should go, now. I''ll get Wyatt and we''ll slip through the passageway." Cassian whispered to Xhiamas, who silently nodded. Just as Cassian was almost where Coraline and Wyatt were, the soldier spotted him.


    "You two, grab a hold of that man and relieve him of his weapons. We are not leaving here until business is settled, innkeeper. Men, continue the search!" He blew past the innkeeper and joined his fellow soldiers.


    Petyr sighed at the soldier''s behavior. He tapped his shoulder and immediately delivered an elbow to his face, which knocked him out cold as the soldiers pulled out their swords in retaliation. The innkeeper stood up on the bar counter and called out to the hunters present.


    "Fellow hunters! Since our adventure has been put on a temporary hold, what do you say we teach these bastards a thing or two about following the laws of the establishment? I''m sure you all are just itching for a fight!"


    The hall echoed with the roar of excitement and enthusiasm from the hunters. The soldiers quickly rallied outside and called the others to stand in formation, while waves of warriors slowly stepped out of the inn either bare-knuckled or with weapons.


    "Good day to you all!" Petyr announced to the Polifio footmen who were now gathered in formation. "I am sorry for the unexpected turn of events and for the thrashing that most of you will be receiving. You''ll have to thank your dimwitted leader here for that." He singlehandedly dragged the still-unconscious soldier and threw him onto the ground, who was then immediately carried off by his fellow soldiers. Wyatt, Xhiamas, and Cassian were at the doors, protecting Coraline who watched intently as she stood behind them.


    "Men, let''s put down some rules first! None of you are to kill a person intentionally. At best, try only to knock them out. If they get too rowdy for you to control, then let''s say it was a happy accident."


    The footmen were not pleased at all. Their pride as soldiers was already wounded, and hearing the old man''s words felt like adding insult to injury. Immediately, they drew their weapons and slowly began to approach the hunters.


    "You''re all going to die today, foreign scum!" A soldier cried out. "Let''s start with the old man!" Said another.


    Without a moment too soon, the two parties met in open combat. The sound of steel clashing with one another rang throughout the grounds of Gillsberry, accompanied by the shouting of both soldiers and hunters alike. Wyatt observed that while the soldiers groaned in agony, the hunters seemed to relish in the chaos; welcoming every wound or beating as if it were an old friend.


    "Incredible. Outnumbered by almost three-to-one, and yet it seems like they might win against the bastards," Cassian blurted out after seeing how the hunters fought against the footmen. "You should see them in the fields when they''re in their true element. These soldiers are ants compared to the monsters we usually find out there." Petyr stepped in out of nowhere, which scared Cassian, Wyatt, and Coraline while Xhiamas and Flint looked at him with blank expressions on their faces.


    "You should really ought to stop doing that, old man," Flint exclaimed with a worried look on his face. "Remarkable as your talents may be, your age is a concern. Too much usage of mana will be the death of you."


    "I agree. You were lucky to survive one incident, Petyr. Please do not try to let your twilight days go to waste." Coraline chimed in.


    For a moment, Wyatt forgot that she knew of magic. It was a rare sight to see a noble naturally be amongst the presence of commoners, much less work for them. It only proved to be another testament to their family''s humble and down-to-earth nature.


    Out of nowhere, a few soldiers burst out of the crowd and directly headed toward their direction with weapons raised. Xhiamas and the rest quickly moved to protect Coraline but Godric stepped forward without hesitation and took down the two with minimal effort by using the blunt front of his war hammer and hit them on the stomach, knocking the wind out of their breath. A few kicks and punches later and both of them were laid out flat on the ground.


    "Turns out that lump of metal is not just for show. Where''d you learn to fight like that?" Petyr asked him, genuinely impressed.


    "When you''ve spent time being constantly hunted down, you get to learn a thing or two," Wyatt responded as he picked up the daunting war hammer from the ground with almost little to no effort. Another footman rushed toward him with his sword drawn after seeing his fellow soldiers rendered unconscious.


    "Wyatt! Look out!" Coraline shouted. He managed to dodge the strike in time and retaliated by swinging his hammer with such force to the soldier, caving his chest in and leaving him dead on the ground. Coraline and the company were relieved as the innkeeper approached him.


    "I didn''t know you had that in you, lad," Petyr said as he kicked the dead soldier in the head. "It seems that you are indeed your father''s son. May I?"


    Wyatt offered the old man his weapon, who was eager to test it against a poor soul, but was left dumbfounded after the war hammer immediately dropped to the ground with a loud thud that caught the attention of nearby hunters and soldiers, putting the melee between the two parties on hold as they stared at Petyr and the rest.


    "What in the..." Petyr attempted to lift it again but to no avail. "Well, I''ll be damned, who would have thought that you would be carrying along a marked weapon?"


    "I''m sorry--a what?" Cassian asked, seemingly caught off guard as Xhiamas nodded his head up and down. "I see...quite an interesting turn of events."


    "Can somebody in the seven hells explain what is going on? What is a marked weapon?" Cassian continued to ask but was left ignored. He turned to Coraline for an answer, who had a troubled expression. "Wait...that cannot be..." Coraline blurted out of nowhere, confusing him even more.


    "Archers!" A voice shouted in the distance. It came from the head soldier from earlier, who had already woken up and was already in the middle of issuing a command for attack.


    "Loose!" The soldier screamed. Arrows immediately blotted out the sun and were aimed directly at Petyr and Wyatt, who were easy targets. "Bastards!" Cassian shouted out.


    The hunters screamed as they went into a frenzied state. They immediately rushed the soldiers who were waiting in formation, shields raised. Sounds of splintered wood and wailing echoed on the far end of the field as Cassian immediately pulled his shield and rushed toward the two while Xhiamas pulled a worried and screaming Coraline inside the inn to protect the girl from stray arrows.


    As for Wyatt and Petyr, there was no time to dodge as the arrows were already a few seconds away from their intended targets. Wyatt stood in shock as he had no way out, while Petyr rushed to his position to attempt to protect the boy from being hit.


    What happened next immediately caught all present off guard as an intense heat was felt all across the battlefield, burning the arrows and turning them into ash while the smell of smoke filled the air. The sweltering high noon heat, which was already punishing enough, was nothing compared to the heat that every person felt. Those who wore metal immediately removed their armor in pain, as it began to cook them alive.


    Wyatt, Cassian, and Petyr were left lying on the ground and covered themselves. When they came to, all they saw standing was a man who was covered in flames. It looked as if they danced around his body, flickering in and out. He turned, and what they saw left them with even more questions.


    It was Flint himself, who breathed in and out. His hair was burning brightly as if it were blessed by the sun, while the flames retreated to his arms, almost as if they were an extension of his body.


    "Flint?" Wyatt asked him, still shaken. "You can use magic as well? Who are you?"


    "No one of value. Quickly, while everyone is preoccupied." Without hesitation, all three rushed into the large establishment, where Xhiamas and Coraline waited for their arrival. For the first time in nearly three centuries, the Whiteflower had again barred its doors from the public, shunning all people from its services as Wyatt and company locked themselves in.

 Ch. 18 -- Summons to The Capital City

    The council chamber of Mistveil Forest was filled with a tense atmosphere, with each present feeling a sense of discomfort and uncertainty.


    "How could such a tragedy go through me unnoticed?" The elven king asked himself as he sat down amongst his small council and the royal guards. Godric and the twins stood and listened in on their conversation, as their input regarding the matter was valued by Ithilien, now more than ever.


    "We were caught off guard as well, Your Majesty. Being the nearest royal family and military presence to the Polifios, we presumed you would be the first House to report this incident to Sir Byronard and the Capital City. You are one of the few Great Houses left who has yet to answer the summons. Were you not able to receive a messenger raven?" A royal guard asked the king.


    "Our scouts report that we''ve never received any messages," he responded. "My apologies if you were sent here because of me."


    "Your Majesty, there is no need to ask for forgiveness. What we simply ask you to do now is immediately depart for the Capital City. The patriarchs and matriarchs are eagerly awaiting your presence. Please bring a member of your council along with you. If you are ready, we will be waiting at the gates." Another royal guard said as they stood, bowed, and left the room without another room.


    The king was deep in thought. Godric looked at him and could instantly tell that he was troubled. He always knew that the elven king''s kindness had also extended to other races.


    "Anar¨®r?, call Ranger Faelar. Tell him to meet me at the gates." Ithilien finally broke his silence. The princess bowed and immediately left the room, following his father''s request. "l¨®m?," he called out to his son. "Deep down, I feel I will not return for some time. You will rule over the kingdom in my stead while I am gone. Look after your sister, look after each other."


    "...I will not let you down, Father." l¨®m? responded.


    "I know you will not." Ithilien then walked toward Godric, who still experienced trouble absorbing everything in. "Godric. I grieve for your loss. I understand this turn of events might be too much for you to grasp, but I promise you; that I will do everything in my power to help the royal court to resolve this matter. To start, I have a request."


    "What is it, Your Majesty?" He asked, curious.


    "Come with us to the Capital City. It has been years since I last interacted with the race of Men. I fear too much has changed, and I believe you can help me reconnect with them. Are you willing to accompany us in this matter?" Godric was taken aback.


    "Your Majesty, this business is far better off without me being included. It is an honor but matters such as these are beyond my capabilities. I''ll only be a liability, at best."


    Ithilien laughed at his remark. "Even now, you lack faith in yourself. You are the most impressive mortal I have come across for a long while. Dare I say you are comparable to Wolfsbane himself. True, you lack his strength, skill, and wisdom, but you have his heart. That trait makes you stand out from the rest, Godric." The king responded.


    Godric bowed down, appreciative of the elven king''s words. "You flatter me, King Ithilien. Very well, I''ll accompany you to the Capital City. I''ve never been there before, so I can''t say I''m not a little bit excited."


    "Primera''s seat of power is a sight to behold. That, young one, I can assure you." He patted him on the shoulder as they walked toward the northern gates. "Now come, they are waiting for us."


    It did not take them long to reach the northern gates. Godric spotted afar the three royal guards in their sleek, uniformed armor. An ordinary person would never notice it, but to the awakened ones, their presence was jarring. By his calculations, they had an innate mana pool that nearly rivaled l¨®m? in-depth. He never saw them in combat yet, but by how they carried themselves, even Anar¨®r? would be outclassed.


    "Father," Anar¨®r? approached them as she pulled the reins to halt the movement of a majestic, large, white stag. "Ranger-general Faelar is on his way. I have already prepared Gwedal here for the journey. Your provisions are stored here, which should be sufficient until you reach the Capital." She pointed to a leather bag strapped to the stag''s side.


    "I will also bring Godric with me. Meetings with the other races can be quite troublesome, and I believe he deserves this opportunity to see the world beyond." Anar¨®r? bit her lip after those words were uttered, but stood firm.


    The king approached his daughter and hugged her tight. "I am sorry, my dear--believe me, I truly am. However, with me and the Head Ranger gone, it falls up to you and your brother to look after the safety of our people." Ithilien responded as Anar¨®r? looked at them in silence. "Do not worry, I will bring you gifts when we return."


    This lit a spark in the elven princess'' eyes, and Godric saw a smile appear on her face which disappeared as soon as another elf arrived on horseback.


    "My king Ithilien, Your Majesties." He bowed his head. "Forgive me if I was late, I had to make sure that your weapon and ducal signet were in perfect condition." The elf got off his horse and approached the four as he slowly pulled out a ring engraved with a crescent moon, which stood as House Alastrassa and King Ithilien''s symbol of authority and power.


    "Thank you, Faelor." The ranger general bowed in response.


    Faelor then removed an elvish longsword from his back and handed it to the king. Godric found the weapon ethereal as the king unsheathed it, admiring its round pommel. The steel glimmered in the sunlight, and its edge looked sharp enough to cut through anything.


    "Would that be Stargazer?" Godric asked out of the blue.


    "Why yes it is. How come you know of it?" Faelor asked, curious.


    "Before we fought the monster in the caverns, Evander told me how each Great House has a marked weapon. House Huntingborne, if I recall has Heart Tamer, while House Alastrassa''s would be Stargazer. However, these are not limited to the highborn, as Thrillseeker, Evander''s spear, was given as a gift. He also mentioned that my twin blades are marked weapons as well."


    "Your blades can indeed be called marked weapons," Anar¨®r? stated. "They suit you, no doubt about it. However, Elmar has been...secretive to say the least when asked about the blades'' origins. I confronted him after we had sparred. I asked as to why he would give a marked weapon back then. He only said that he trusted you with it. I haven''t seen nor spoken with him since then."


    "Now that you mention it, where is Elmar?" l¨®m? asked as he and the council looked in the direction where the forge was located. "The forges should be awake now, yet I hear nothing."


    "A mystery for another time. We should get going." A royal guard stepped in, cutting the conversation short. "My sentries have already scouted the Kings'' Road and have reported that a melee ensued in Gillsberry, between hunters and the Polifio bannermen. They say Lady Tryst Huntingborne has already gone to settle the issue but is currently residing at the Whiteflower for the time being."


    "Tryst...I presume that would be Lord Geoffrey''s child?" Ithilien asked.


    "Yes, Your Majesty. First cousin to Evander Huntingborne and the current Priestess of the Wild." The royal guard replied as he closed his eyes as if he had entered a trance. After a brief pause, he opened them again, revealing a purplish hue that emanated from his pupils. "It appears that she awaits for you there, Your Majesty. She requests that both our parties travel to the Capital together." He continued.


    "It would be my honor, then. To escort a Priestess of the Wild is a rare treat. Let us be off." Ithilien looked at his children and they responded with a respectful nod, acknowledging their responsibilities as the legacy and future of their House and heritage.


    Godric approached the twins to bid his farewells. Anar¨®r? hugged him tight as soon as he was within speaking range.


    "Stay safe." She whispered in his ear. Godric looked deep into her gray eyes, which somehow in a way, shone brighter than her twin brother''s.


    "I''ll try to do so--you know me." This made the elf push him back in playful annoyance. "Take care, Anar¨®r?." The incumbent ruler of Mistveil Forest then approached the two.


    "We will miss you, Godric." l¨®m? reached out, offering a handshake. "Wonders beyond our forests might tempt you to go to faraway places, but remember; you are always welcome here." Godric as always, accepted it as it was his way to show l¨®m? how much he trusted the prince.


    "I''ll be back, I promise," Godric said. "Oh I have no doubt about that my friend, but somehow I feel like you might come back an entirely different person." l¨®m? responded.


    "Heh. We''ll see. Goodbye, for now, you two. Take care." he said as he saddled himself on the spare horse bought in by Faelar.


    "We''ll have to make haste, Your Majesty. I trust your time spent in Mistveil Forest has not dwindled your capabilities?" A royal guard asked the king. Ithilien laughed at the question as if it were a jest after he had finished wearing his riding gloves.


    "Do not mistake my gentle demeanor for weakness, good sir. Hyah!" The king immediately grabbed the reins and signaled his stag to run as fast as they could. To everyone''s surprise, the monarch of House Alastrassa was already almost near the edge where the path turned toward the direction of Gillsberry. Under the cover of the large Adhirala trees, he moved like a blur--as if he merged with the forest itself.


    Without hesitation, the rest of the party followed suit, desperate to keep up with the elven king. The wind blew through their hair as the autumn leaves fell from the Adhirala trees which decorated the pathway in various shades of color.


    "You just had to go and say it!" A royal guard shouted as they raced through the trees, annoyed at his sworn brother-in-arms.


    "What? Weren''t you the one who told us you wanted to see the elven king in action?!" He shot back, laughing.


    "I meant in combat, you fool. The captain will kill us three if he sees the elven king left unattended and ahead of his assigned guards."


    As they bantered, Faelar laughed at the conversation the guards exchanged with one another. "Rest easy, good sirs. As far as I know, only a handful of mortals alive at this time can provide our king with a challenge. To face him in open combat would be folly." The ranger-general chimed in, his tone held a mixture of pride and awe.


    "Apart from his kind-heartedness and generosity, he is revered by our warriors as the Blade of the Moon. I stand as witness to his skill, for I was there during the dawn of the world when the first vestiges of the elven kind had stepped foot on mortal plains. No one can match him, I assure you of that."


    "Perhaps Sir Byronard could take him on," a royal guard responded. "After all, he is remarked in our history as the greatest swordsman that the realm of Men has ever known. Even his deeds and reputation have reached faraway places such as Dryharbor Bay and Snakecliff."


    "Aye, that would be a sight I would pay for. Maybe we could persuade Sir Byronard into..." The other began to speak but was cut off after his helm was struck by a twig thrown by his fellow royal guard.


    "Don''t even think about it. Let''s focus first on catching up with the king." The royal guard cut his companion off, already aware of his intention.


    A few days later, the company found themselves already at the King''s Road. They spotted the elven king lying comfortably on the grass, admiring the clouds as Gwedal, his stag, slept soundly nearby.


    "Oh good, you''ve arrived." He spoke as he stood up to meet with the party. "Forgive me if I went on ahead. It has been quite some time since I stepped outside my lands. Mistveil Forest may have its charms, but the skies are clearer and vibrant here. I had forgotten how liberating it felt. Now I understand my daughter''s urges to journey outside." Ithilien then called his stag, who quickly rose and approached his side.


    "We are making good progress, Your Majesty. Gillsberry is only minutes away from here." A royal guard said.


    "Very well. Let us not keep Lady Huntingborne waiting."


    True enough, mere minutes later they found themselves in Gillsberry where the locals were busy repairing damages to their hometown. Godric was only away for nearly two fortnights, but it was barely recognizable after looking at the state the place was in. The young and old helped each other restore the place to where it once was--there were even hunters whom Godric recognized who aided the locals by carrying the needed stone and lumber.


    They then saw the Whiteflower in all its glory. A few windows were smashed, dented pieces of armor and broken wood were scattered all around, and the smell of ash filled the air as they approached, but the establishment still looked as impressive as Godric remembered it to be. At the entranceway stood another member of the royal guard, who appeared to block the entrance.


    "You''ve arrived. Good. Lady Huntingborne is waiting inside." He said to his brothers-in-arms as he approached the elven king. "Your Majesty, it is an honor to meet you. I hope my companions escorted you here without finding any trouble along the way."


    "Of course not, they did a splendid job in ensuring my safety." The king smiled as the three guards looked at each other nervously while Faelar and Godric looked at each other with wry smiles.


    "Demetrius, Malachi, prepare our horses for travel. They''re in the stables being tended to by Nathaniel." He ordered the two guards from earlier who discussed seeing the elven king and Sir Byronard in combat. "We''re on it." They bowed respectfully at Ithilien before leaving for the stables.


    "Please come inside, the three of you. The lady would like to have a word with you first before departing. Zakum, take my place and stop anyone from entering unannounced." The royal guard said. "Understood, Captain." Zakum then stood to guard the establishment, replacing him as the captain opened the doors.


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    The three of them dismounted from their rides and entered the Whiteflower. Godric looked at the interior and saw that the inside was a mess. Chairs were scattered, tables were turned upside down and damages were present on the wooden railings. In the center of it all was a table and several chairs left untouched amidst the chaos. In one of the chairs sat a young woman with wavy, warm brown hair as beautiful as the autumn season. She had fair skin and eyes as black as the darkest night. They screamed with the unbridled intensity of the wild, and yet, the serene gentleness of nature. Godric held no doubt that this was indeed Lady Tryst, the current head of House Huntingborne.


    "Your Majesty." Lady Tryst stood up and smiled as she approached and held Ithilien''s hand. "It''s a pleasure to meet the esteemed king of Mistveil Forest. Please visit Stagvalley sometime in the future. We promise to provide you the best my family and people can offer."


    "I will consider your kind offer, Lady Tryst," Ithilien responded. "How fares your father and people these days?"


    "He''s doing considerably well for his age. Also, the elvish medicinal techniques given centuries ago have helped him with his injuries and countless others. On behalf of my ancestors, you have my gratitude."


    "The pleasure is mine, my lady. It was a fair exchange of culture and a token of appreciation. Your forefathers would be proud to see that the Huntingborne blood still runs strong through a talented prodigy like yourself." Tryst felt a wave of happiness wash over her because of the elven king''s words, which made her smile even more.


    "Oh, before I forget--Uncle Petyr?" she called. Afterward, Petyr, who Godric knew as the innkeeper stepped out of his room, yawning with an exhausted look. "Tryst, I thought I told you to warn me before you go and cast your sleeping magic--" he stopped after Ithilien, the royal guard, Faelar, and Godric stared at him with confused looks.


    "Oh, where are my manners? I wasn''t expecting more guests after the recent happenings." He tidied himself and fixed his posture. "King Ithilien. It has been years." He bowed down to the great elven king. "Your presence alone blesses my humble establishment, Your Majesty." Ithilien laughed at his demeanor.


    "After all these years, you are still the same Petyr," he said to the innkeeper. "I could say the same as well, Your Majesty. Tell me: might there be a secret on how you still keep your youthful appearance despite thousands of lifetimes?"


    "A good night''s rest is the answer, paired with the blessing of eternal youth gifted by the old gods." The two of them laughed at the king''s jest. Godric found the scene surreal as apart from him, he had never seen how other races would interact with one another.


    Petyr looked behind Ithilien and saw Faelar. "You must be the Ranger-General of Mistveil Forest?" Faelar nodded. "Good. From what I''ve heard, the other heads are confused and anxious regarding this incident." He looked past Faelar and saw a familiar face in Godric.


    "What in the--well lad! Nice to see you back so soon! Unfortunately, the inn''s closed. How in the seven hells did you even get in here?" Petyr asked in a nervous tone, thinking that he might have said too much. Ithilien walked toward Godric and placed his hand on the boy''s shoulder.


    "Worry not, Petyr. This young one is with us. There is no need to hide anything from Godric. He is an honorary member of my council. Also, he''s an awakened being, and a curious case at that as well." Ithilien reassured the innkeeper.


    "An awakened being?" Tryst stood up from her chair and asked. "From what house do you hail from, Godric?"


    "I don''t know, milady. I''m an orphan and was raised in Rosetown under the care of the farmworkers. I never even knew magic had existed until I entered Mistveil Forest by accident." Godric explained to everyone present in the great hall.


    "Well then, you are full of surprises, aren''t you?" Petyr said as he crossed his arms and smiled. "My gut instinct was right. I knew you were special after you cured the affliction that had affected my body."


    "You knew?" Godric asked. "Of course I did, lad. I may be old, but I''m a hunter through and through. No one sneaks up on me, whether I''m sleeping or wide awake. Coraline gave you quite the slap, didn''t she? Shame on you, lad. You should''ve been truthful from the start." Petyr said as Godric bowed his head down in embarrassment.


    "Coraline? The heir to House Applewood?" Tryst asked to which Petyr responded with a smile. "Well, well. A man of many talents indeed. An awakened being of unknown origin, a member of the elven king''s council, and a person who seems to have caught the eye of a fine and proper lady." Tryst teased Godric as his face turned red, flustered by her words.


    "That reminds me. Coraline, where is she now?" Godric asked, remembering his promise to visit her from time to time.


    "Well, she left hours ago. She''s most likely at the Capital City already." Petyr answered. This caught Godric off guard, as he was not expecting Coraline to be heading to the Capital.


    Ithilien looked at him with a confused look on his face. "Forgive me, if I am not mistaken, House Applewood is a vassal house, sworn to House Polifio. This summons is only known to a select few. Why is she there? On the way things stand, I believe House Dewblossom should be the ones who must answer the call for their missing feudal house, given their relation."


    "...It''s hard to explain, Your Majesty. I think you''ll understand once all of you get there and see for yourselves." Petyr answered with a grim look. Godric knew something was off, and thus was given another reason to visit the Capital to understand what in the seven hells was going on.


    "Let us be off then. Uncle, thank you for your hospitality." At this time, the royal guard exited the establishment to ensure their mounts were prepared. "I''ll be sending my people here to help with restoring Gillsberry. Stay safe." She hugged his dear uncle tight and turned to the four of them. "Shall we, gentlemen?"


    Godric and the others then mounted their rides and rode off toward the Capital City, nearly half a day away from Gillsberry when traversing the King''s Road. Accompanied by the famed royal guard, it was difficult to avoid catching the attention of those who saw their party. The men and women waved and cheered while the children stared in awe at the sight of the knights they dreamed of becoming, who they knew about in stories, and the elven king, who they only thought was a product of fantasy.


    They crossed the vast Huntingborne fields as the wind blew its gentle breeze, and crossed the dreaded Lichley Falls, utilizing the Sapphire Bridge constructed by the First Men. Not long after, they found themselves underneath the Twin Peak Lookout, an imposing guard tower with high walls whose main purpose was to block off the southern entrance to the Capital City. Owned by House Alderth and manned by members of its vassal houses, the only way in was through the use of a drawbridge of high quality. A voice was heard from above, and Demetrius waved his hand in response. He then signaled to lower the drawbridge, whose heavy chains began to echo throughout the area. Soon, the drawbridge was down for them to pass through.


    "Don''t look down," Malachi warned Godric as they traversed the drawbridge hovering over a deep ravine. It was strong and stable, but the lad let curiosity take the best of him. He dismounted and peered over the edge, seeing nothing but a bottomless pit dug as far as the eye could see. Godric immediately settled himself back on his horse and felt queasy from the sight.


    "Well, I did warn you," Malachi said as Demetrius and Zakum laughed.


    The party crossed the bridge and entered the human encampment that housed the lookout''s inhabitants. It was filled with soldiers from different vassal houses and decorated with their respective banners, all of whom were minding their business.


    "Do they know about what happened?" Tryst asked the captain of the royal guard.


    "Not that I know of, my lady. However, there have been several ruling heads who''ve entered through this way. Accompanied by your and King Ithilien''s presence, I fear rumors might have already made their way through the central lands. Houses Ilyn, Huntingborne, Hawthorne, and Alderth were the first to receive the news." The royal guard responded as the soldiers began to notice their presence.


    "Sir Byronard, after receiving word about the Rosetown incident, immediately requested the summons after a sealed letter from House Browgan piqued his interest. The houses Grimguard, Davenmere, Silverkind, Coppermouth, and Blackstone were then sent messenger ravens. To this day, we are still awaiting a response from House Wintertomb. For the dwarves, House Stormguard was only able to send an emissary in place of the two heads of the Great House, as apparently, we''ve received word that something is stirring up the frost drakes in the northernmost regions, therefore the heads have decided to focus their attention there."


    King Ithilien expressed a look of concern. "Their case is understandable. I have faced the frost drakes alongside Sindras and Vargas. If some other power is indeed tampering with the forces of nature up in the North, then their full power is needed there." He said as the captain nodded in agreement.


    "Not to worry, Your Majesty. Once the summons has finished, an expedition to the north will be conducted to assist the dwarves. Sir Byronard has already seen to that." The captain reassured the elven king. "In that case, I will ask a few of my kind in the northern regions to assist them. Faelar, send a raven to House Freewood and inform them of this concern."


    "Understood, my king," Faelar responded. "I shall do so while the talks are being conducted."


    "Have the Abussonians been informed as well?" King Ithilien asked. "Yes, Your Majesty. King Ennoris has already been informed of this matter but has only sent an emissary. We do not know why, but Sir Byronard respects his decision because he trusts that the Abussonian king would have a good reason for doing so." Godric noticed that this flurry of events worried King Ithilien, as his expression never changed.


    As they passed through the sea of bannermen and exited the encampment, they immediately traveled at full speed, hoping to reach their destination before high noon. Not long after, Godric and company finally saw the majestic, towering walls of the Capital City over the horizon. Ancient and imposing, it lived up to its reputation and was a beauty to behold, especially to those who lived beyond the central lands. Godric gazed in awe as all the stories he heard regarding the Capital were true; from the grasslands that had surrounded it, to the walls that prevented any sieges, to the majestic mountains that led to the cold north and acted as a natural defense, protecting the city''s flank.


    The sight that truly caught Godric''s eye out of all, was the cliff that stood as the foundation for Wolfsbane Keep. It stood as a testament to the strength of men and watched over the Capital City. He noticed that it was decorated with banners of all the Great Houses. The young man''s mind raced with excitement for there, inside those very walls was where Unrel Wolfsbane, the first King of Men, along with the first generation of monarchs had fashioned and created the Codex.


    "I can''t believe it. I''m actually in the Capital," Godric said in awe as they entered through an enormous, white gate that served as the primary entrance, guarded by only a dozen members of the royal guard, which Godric found odd.


    "Rest easy, lad. We were trained at a young age to become the best. It would be wise not to underestimate us." Demetrius pointed out after he saw Godric''s doubtful expression. "I meant no disrespect, sir. I''ve just, never seen a royal guard fight before." Demetrius closed his eyes after Godric''s response and opened them, and a purplish hue again emanated from his pupils.


    "You''re in luck. It appears you won''t have to wait long," he responded, leaving Godric confused. Before Godric could ask what he meant by those words, the captain signaled the group to stop, for they had already arrived at the Crothil Steps, a masterful work of craftsmanship that was a majestic twin pair of staircases engraved onto the cliff that acted as the primary way up toward Wolfsbane Keep.


    There, in between the two steps stood a man wearing the sleek, royal guard armor. However, he donned a black cape that bore the sigil of a white direwolf with its fangs barred. Strapped onto his back was a longsword of impressive stature. A zweih?nder, Godric recalled after he remembered his lessons with Anar¨®r?. He radiated power and authority. Godric felt his mana seemed like it had no limit. However, despite the man''s monstrous magical pressure, it had a welcoming warmth to it. Godric described it as similar to being kissed by sunlight during the first light of day.


    The royal guards dismounted and approached the man in front of them. They then bowed and stood behind him in formation. The man stepped forward as Godric, Ithilien, Faelar and Tryst dismounted from their rides.


    "Welcome to the Capital, King Ithilien and Lady Tryst," he said in a strong, and vibrant voice. He looked at Faelar and acknowledged his presence as if he were a friend from the past. He then looked at Godric, who stood in awe.


    "It seems that we have a new face. Is it your first time here, boy?" The man asked. "Yes, it is, sir. I''m sorry, for my behavior. I''ve never met another human with such impressive mana control as you. You are leagues above the people I''ve met, including your brothers-in-arms." The words surprised the mysterious man and left the royal guards behind him smiling at the boy''s naivety.


    "It seems that we have an awakened being in our midst. Your technique still needs polishing, but I can see that you have potential. Interesting." He responded. "This day has been the most eventful one I''ve had since the civil war ended. I can''t say the surprises have been all good, though."


    "If I may ask, good sir, but who are you?" Godric asked.


    "Ah, where are my manners?" The man approached the lad and extended his hand. "I am Sir Byronard, Sword of the Morning, Leader of the Royal Guards, and the acting Regent for the Kingdom of Primera. A pleasure to meet you, lad."

 Ch. 19 -- The Highborn

    Godric was at a loss for words. A man of legendary status stood before him. He was the pride of the Citadel itself and the greatest swordsman in the history of Men. The lad shook his hand, still finding difficulty that in a mere span of months, he had found himself in this position.


    "M-my name is Godric, Sir Byronard. It is truly an honor to meet a legend such as yourself." His grip was firm and warm. His hand was coarse, presumably from years of fighting. Godric bowed down out of respect for his reputation as a warrior and as the acting regent of Primera. "Come now, there''s no need for that lad. You''ll embarrass us both." Byronard replied as the royal guards behind him chuckled. "I''ve forsaken my titles and birthright long ago, and now only act as a soldier and the acting regent while our kingdom has yet decided on one. Treat me as you would any other, and you''ll find that we''ll get along fine."


    Godric stepped back and nodded, acknowledging his request as King Ithilien took his place. "It has been a while, Sir Byronard. Have all the other houses gathered?" The elven ruler asked.


    "Yes, Your Majesty. Apart from House Wintertomb, all Great Houses are accounted for. Caine Dewblossom, the eldest of his house will stand in place for House Polifio. It would be best to hurry--they''re all anxiously awaiting your arrival."


    After Byronard stopped speaking, a large bell echoed from Wolfsbane Keep. What immediately followed was an intense pressure of mana that burst from above. Godric described it as a cacophony of contrasting elements, jarring and painful to the senses. What is this? He asked himself as he knelt, seemingly affected by the flow of magic scattered all across the Capital. He looked toward the rest, who stood unaffected by the event. Incredible, he thought.


    "Come now, Godric. You best prepare yourself for what is to come. In the face of the highborn, never show weakness." Lady Tryst grasped his arm and helped him back up to his feet. "Thank you, milady," Tryst responded to Godric''s gratefulness with a smile. "There you go." She replied.


    "It appears that the others have noticed your presence, my lady and Your Majesty. Let''s be off now, shall we?" Sir Byronard said as he led the way up the steps. Godric and the others followed, accompanied by the rest of the royal guard.


    Several hundred steps later, they then found themselves atop the cliff that overlooked the city. Godric and company walked along the palnezite path that led to the entrance to the keep where a marble statue was found. Godric took a good look at it, recognizing the figure as Unrel Wolfsbane, the founder of House Ilyn. The statue depicted the king carrying a zweih?nder into battle. It looked oddly similar to the one that Sir Byronard had strapped to his back. It was a majestic piece of work and was as tall as the wielder, but the leader of the royal guards showed no difficulty carrying such a daunting weapon. Godric found himself protecting his eyes from looking at the weapon for too long as from time to time, Godric was sure that the steel was changing in color; from a dull, gray luster the blade shifted into a blinding, white glow.


    "If I were you, I wouldn''t stare at it for too long," Mikal whispered behind him. "Lest you prefer to be blinded, please be my guest." Godric silently nodded and caught up with Faelar, who was waiting.


    The wooden doors of the keep swung open, revealing a massive, stony hall that cornered off into different sections. "We''ll be okay from here. Guard the doors, men. Ensure no one enters and leaves this room except for us and the other lords and ladies." The royal guards bowed and immediately returned outside, closing the doors behind them. "We''re almost there. Follow me, please." Byronard said as they all walked toward another massive set of doorways at the end of the hall being guarded by two royal guards. As they approached, the guards swung open the doors to reveal a large chamber filled with over a dozen people. It was decorated with two long tables made out of an unknown material. At the center, was a large circular piece of marble that displayed an intricately carved map of Primera and the lands beyond. The tables were also outfitted with six chairs each, with a thirteenth seat being an empty throne that was laid out in front of them.


    There was also a stone table with seats representing the independent kingdoms: one for the Abussonians, or Mermen, as the common folk would call them, one for the Elves, and two for the Dwarves with two rulers at this age.


    Godric looked at each of them and instantly knew that the people already in the room were no less than the heads of every Great House of Men.


    "I sincerely apologize for letting you wait so long, my lords and ladies. I failed to see the danger that befell Rosetown and I failed to assist Lord Mikhael in his time of need, so I am partly to blame for this incident." The elven king said as he stepped forward and apologized to the others.


    "Don''t be too hard on yourself, Your Majesty." A man dressed in simple, yellow-colored clothing replied to the king''s apology. "As the only other Great House nestled in the south apart from yours and the Polifios, I am embarrassed that we too were unable to act before it was too late." He continued.


    Godric looked at his face and recognized him as Lord Augustus Hawthorne, also renowned as the Knight of Thorns. He was a prominent figure in the South. He participated in every tourney that would be held in the southern regions. The people adored him as he used to be common folk like them, but was raised to nobility after the sickly, previous head of House Hawthorne revealed his identity as his bastard and only living heir, thus legitimizing Augustus and granting him the right to rule over House Hawthorne and lower houses sworn to them.


    News spread at first that he was undeserving of the title, especially since a few other leaders questioned his capabilities. However, he let his actions speak for themselves as the Hawthorne lands prospered under his guidance, his people were fiercely loyal to him, and Godric could say that they would be willing to lay down their lives if needed.


    "I agree, but I cannot bring myself to say that you are innocent of guilt, Augustus." A man around Lord Hawthorne''s age was seated at a window said, as he played with an oddly shaped throwing axe. He wore violet-hued leather armor and had bruised features. "If anything, you should''ve been more attentive. You are, after all, the head of your house. You were being lazy and inattentive if I were to be honest." He continued, mocking Augustus.


    "Behave yourself, Lord Davenmere," Tryst chimed in, breaking the tension that was building up between the two. "We were all caught off-guard by this news. If anything, we should be grateful that it was not our people who fell victim to this incident, and that we should instead band together to find a solution." She explained, confident and unwavering.


    She truly is Evander''s cousin, Godric thought to himself. "Now, I suggest we all sit down and begin this gathering. With each fleeting moment, we only leave ourselves vulnerable to an increasing and unknown danger." She continued as Lord Davenmere responded with an annoyed grunt while Lord Hawthorne sat down, showing respect to Lady Huntingborne''s words.


    "What she says is true. I suggest that every one of you take this seriously. This is no laughing matter. From what I know, things will get messy moving forward. That, my friends, I promise you." A bearded man in sapphire blue armor with a pinned sigil of a trout on his chest spoke out. "Byronard, ask someone to bring food and water. We''re going to be in here for quite a while." He continued as he sat down and began to pour crimson-colored wine into a cup.


    "No need to worry about that, Lord Dunwick," Byronard replied. "I''ve prepared everything to ensure that this abrupt summons will go as smoothly as everyone wants it to be." The bearded man smiled after hearing Byronard''s words.


    The regent stood before the empty throne and turned to face everyone present. "I now kindly ask everyone to please take your seats and present your symbols of power." The rest followed suit and one by one, removed the rings which they wore on their fingers. King Ithilien took his place and sat beside the two emissaries from the Abussonian and Dwarven kingdoms, who carried emblems that signified their status as substitutes in place of their lieges.


    "Let us begin this council. Now, the representative for House Dewblossom, please step forward."


    A figure wearing steel armor and a green cloak stepped out of the shadows. "Pardon me, my lords and ladies. In place of my liege lord, I offer only my presence." He removed his helm, decorated with what Godric presumed to be a griffin''s feather, and placed it on the table.


    "Caine Dewblossom, was it not?" Augustus asked the man. "Yes, Lord Augustus." He responded.


    "I understand you are here to represent the Polifios, and I mean no offense--but where is your father? Shouldn''t he be the one participating in these proceedings?"


    Caine adjusted his armor and sheath as he sat down beside Lord Davenmere. "My father is currently preoccupied with keeping the peace in our parts of the South. As luck would have it, I was closest to the Capital when I received the news, so he sent me. That way, it would also not go against my missing liege lord''s orders to hunt down all runaway prisoners."


    Runaway prisoners? Godric thought to himself. The knight''s response cleared the question lingering in his mind after he spotted the green cloaks interrogating villagers in rather harsh manners when he attempted to return to Mistveil Forest. Hearing his statement also made Godric realize that he might be responsible for the actions coming from the soldiers, all of which had left a bitter taste in his mouth.


    Caine suddenly looked in his direction by accident and noticed his presence. "Oh, and who might you be? My birds told me to expect new faces, but for you to be amongst King Ithilien''s company, I''d be lying if I said I was not intrigued." He continued as the rest of the council also turned to face Godric, their gazes like daggers.


    King Ithilien stood from his seat to answer the burning question. "This is Godric," he said as he approached the young man and presented him to the council.


    "This young mortal entered my lands and accidentally trespassed into our sacred glade; an action which is punishable by death as written in the Codex. However, the old gods and my council saw fit to give him a near-impossible task to redeem himself, and he was successful. I''ve already granted him an honorary seat on my council and sanctuary in all elven lands. After all, what better reward could I give to the one who was able to retrieve our House''s long-lost relic?"


    "This pup was able to retrieve the tears?" The dwarven emissary asked the elven king. "Well, color me impressed. You must be a skillful warrior then." He continued.


    "A skillful warrior indeed, Khandem. He is also a hidden prodigy as well. For those unaware, Godric is an awakened being."


    The heads of the other houses spoke in whispers after hearing the elven king''s words. Ithilien looked at him as if he were deciding on something, and then back to Byronard.


    "Godric, since the other houses are here, I believe it is the perfect time and place to reveal a secret I''ve kept from you for so long. Sir Byronard, if I may?" The regent of Primera nodded in approval as Godric looked at Ithilien, confused while Faelar and the others listened intently.


    "Thank you. For those who do not know our glade, the sacred fountain from which he drank the waters is of primordial origin and is as ancient as the old gods. No one, not even me, can survive such purity of magic. A single drop alone is enough to lose oneself to madness, or even worse, death itself."


    "However, for reasons unknown, he came out of it unscathed. The mortal fell into a deep slumber, that is true but experienced no side effects after waking up, at least from our observations. After tasking my children to look after him, I instructed my son to forcefully awaken his mana through the same process all elves go through, and he did so in such unprecedented fashion, only second to my son."


    Ithilien narrated the events thoroughly. As more time passed, the other heads became more curious about the young man rather than the Rosetown incident, as his case became another topic of interest.


    "From what house are you from, boy? Such talent in mana can only be present in people who have the blood of the great houses coursing through their veins." A grim-faced man with deathly white hair and pale lips suited in dark and gold asked. He had fur that decorated the shoulder guards of his armor. He bore a greatsword that had serrated edges placed beside his seat.


    "That would be the question we all would like to know the answer to as well, Lord Grimguard," King Ithilien replied. "From what he has told us, Godric here is an orphan. He was found by Dale Blackwood, also known as the Ironclad, and was raised by the farmhands in Rosetown." Murmurs between each leader echoed throughout the room.


    "Rosetown? He must be a bastard of Mikhael''s then," Lord Davenmere exclaimed. "And here I thought that the Warden of the South was the perfect example of a good person. Hah! Turns out he had dirty little secrets after all."


    "I believe that your claims might be wrong, Lord Davenmere. Godric never gained any knowledge of mana until he was taught before his trial, and, according to my children, has yet to discover his foundation of magic." King Ithilien replied. "I see. Also, he does not carry the strong features present in every member of their house. You look nothing alike." Augustus chimed in.


    "Well, this day has been surprise after surprise." Said Byronard as he stood, perplexed.


    "Indeed, what a strange fellow you are, Godric. What should we do with him?" Lord Dunwick said as he drank his wine and stared at the young man. The room fell silent as they waited on Sir Byronard''s decision.


    "His case will be put on hold for now. I''ll see to it personally. Let us go back to our original proceedings as we''ve strayed too far enough already," he exclaimed. "Are we all in agreement?" The heads of each Great House nodded in acknowledgment.


    "Pay close attention, Godric. We will be here for quite some time. Also, looking at the individuals in the room, who knows what will happen next." Faelar whispered in his ear as he pulled him back into a corner of the room, with ears locked into the council meeting.


    "Good. Let us begin. Our first topic focuses on House Polifio. I called you here because of the disappearance of Rosetown, its citizens, and the members of the great house. That much is true. However, I''ve received troubling news that complicates things, implying that there is more to this than what meets the eye. As it turns out, if you recall, a ransacking of the ancestral seat occurred many moons ago. Based on what Lord Browgan had told me, nature magic was used to quell the chaos and escapees." Byronard explained, garnering an array of reactions from the gathered lords and ladies.


    "Impossible! Has Mikhael gone mad?! After what we and his father did years ago, is he that stupid as to ruin our hard work in keeping the peace?" A plump, yet pompous woman exclaimed, shocked and angry.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "It is hard to believe, Lady Alderth, but after an investigation conducted by the royal guards, and statements from witnesses, we can confirm that nature magic was indeed used. Traces of Polifio mana still linger in the now-smoldering ruins of Rosetown." Byronard replied. "We have no choice but to put him on trial for this. The sacred vow was made here in these very halls twenty-three years ago, and no one is above the rules--especially a member of a great house."


    "What about the magic responsible for Rosetown''s disappearance, Sir Byronard? Have we determined what foundation of magic was used?" A tall man dressed in a greyish-white robe asked calmly. Godric compared his voice to that of silk, smooth and clear.


    "The guards looked into that as well, Lord Silverkind. However, they were unable to discern its foundations. I sent one of the academy''s finest students to Raven''s Nest with a sample, hoping that the Grand Scholar could look into this matter. I''ve yet to receive any word since then." Byronard said as the lord let out a sigh.


    "What makes things worse, is that we were unable to determine the foundation of magic used. We all know that each Great House specializes in a specific foundation of magic that can branch off into a related form. Every leader in this room knows each other''s capabilities. We''ve come to two possible conclusions: one, that this might be a declaration of war from another kingdom, or, that Lord Mikhael and his vassal houses are proactively starting a rebellion."


    Caine stood up in defiance after hearing Sir Byronard''s words. "This is madness! Lord Mikhael would never do such an act of treason! I saw him personally in the aftermath of the ransack. I received orders to hunt down all the escapees from the chaos that ensued, I did and I will continue to do so after this meeting is concluded. On that, you have my word as a knight." He exclaimed, defending his liege lord in front of the other heads who looked at him and were unsure of what to think.


    "He indeed used magic, for I could feel the traces of mana. However, for him to start a rebellion? I cannot and will not accept such accusations against my liege lord, good sir." Caine said as a stout man with a bronze-colored beard seated beside Lord Silverkind stood up on the table.


    "Shut ''yer trap and behave yourself, boy! Vows are vows, and he broke one of the most important ones in all of Primera''s history. Once we find him, we will put him on trial. If the court finds him innocent, then no harm shall come to him or his house, simple as that." He continued.


    "And tell me, Lord Coppermouth, why should I trust the words of a man who I heard had tucked his tail between his legs and hid like a coward when the infighting arrived on his shores? You swore to lead, however you let your people die during the war, and what did you do? Nothing, I presume." Caine shot back at the head of the coastal house, who had now raised his trident in anger.


    "Remember your place, brat! You have no idea what happened in those days, the agony I went through!" He looked at Byronard, who was observing the ensuing commotion. "Permit me to gut this spoiled boy like a fish, Byronard! To remind him who he''s talking to!" He screamed as he pointed his weapon at the eldest son of House Dewblossom.


    "Come now! I''ve yet to face your people. Let us see if Coppermouths truly are as lucky as history claims them to be. " He stood as he drew his rapier. Caine then gave a devious smile, turning him into a completely different person from earlier, and pointed it at the head of the great house.


    "Oh dear," Tryst whispered to herself. Augustus looked concerned at the growing tension in the room as Lord Davenmere cackled. "Gyahahahaha! This should be fun! I guess the trip was worth it after all."


    "Silas! Behave yourself!" Lady Alderth responded. "No, no. Let them blow off some steam, Lady Alderth," A lady who was near Godric and Tryst''s age spoke. She wore midnight, glassy black armor that was outfitted with ebony and her expression was passive, along with her tone. Godric described her to be similar to a doll; fragile and lifeless. "It''s not worth meddling with such barbaric affairs."


    "With all due respect, Lady Blackstone, perhaps that was not the best response." The Abusonnian emissary said as the room slowly descended into a chaotic mess. Lords Silvermere and Grimguard had now held back Lord Coppermouth from taking another step closer, while Augustus attempted to calm Caine down through words.


    Godric turned to Faelar who only focused his attention toward his king who sat in silence. From how things looked, it appeared as though he was already used to such affairs. "Is it always this..." He asked. "Messy? Yes. You''re lucky you were not alive during the first age of Men. Things were so much more hectic than this." Faelar responded, leaving Godric at a loss for words.


    He then looked at Lord Browgan, who had completely disregarded his cup and was now chugging down wine straight from the bottle. It didn''t take long before it was completely dried out. After wiping his mouth, he then called for Sir Byronard''s attention.


    "Byronard, my friend. At least do something." He pleaded, somewhat annoyed by the ongoing argument on the opposite side of the room. "All right then," Byronard replied. "Give me one moment." He then stepped in the center of the room where he could see everyone perfectly.


    "Gentlemen!" He shouted in a loud, commanding manner after he raised his large sword and slammed it downward, piercing the marble floor and causing cracks in the walls as well. His voice echoed throughout the hall and possibly outside of the doors as they too, shook at the sheer force released by a single shout.


    The other lords fighting just seconds ago looked at him and slowly sat down to compose themselves out of respect for Sir Byronard''s authority. By the Divines, Godric thought to himself. What am I witnessing? Faelar chuckled after looking at his face. "You''ll get used to it. " He quipped.


    Byronard then looked at Lords Caine and Coppermouth. "I trust you both have gotten everything out of your system?" He asked. Godric could feel a surge of heat emanating from the regent''s body as the royal guard demanded an answer from the two. Caine gulped and bowed. "Forgive me for my actions, good sir. Perhaps I went too far." His lips were visibly cracked from the heat, and sweat was building up on his forehead.


    "And you, Lord Barnabus?" Byronard asked. "Aye, I apologize as well. Please, let''s get on with the proceedings." He responded, somewhat shaken. "Good. Let us continue, my lords and ladies." The intense heat then disappeared, and shifted into a nice, embracing feeling of warmth as the entire council drowned themselves in a deep conversation.


    "What incredible display of power--Faelar, what form of magic does Sir Byronard use?" Godric asked the ranger-general in a hushed tone, a few minutes later while everyone else was discussing the ongoing issue.


    "Byronard''s foundation of magic is of flame. In terms of skill and mastery in both swordsmanship and magic, I can say he is on par with King Ithilien. His title, The Sword of the Morning is not just a moniker, for it is the actual truth. I''ve seen him fight, but yet to see him go all out. However, I can genuinely say that the person we see before us is the embodiment of the sun itself, merely walking in a vessel of a man." Faelar exclaimed with a sense of respect in his voice. They then went back into silence and listened to the council meeting.


    "Are the rumors true? Have you still not found your foundation of magic?" Faelar asked after a few hours into the talks. Godric responded with a nod. "Yes, they are. I''ve only known how to sense mana and find hidden passageways."


    "Clairvoyance? Well, that must be it then. That''s a nice foundation of magic Godric, as the interconnected branches of Clairvoyance are useful for people with a spirit of adventure, such as yours." Faelar said. "Hone it, and you could become a renowned traveler."


    "Really? Well, that''s great." Godric leaned back against the wall in silence. Suddenly, he remembered something when he fought against Evander. "Hold on, back in the caves--something weird happened. Maybe you can answer this? I forgot to share it with Anar¨®r?." The ranger-general looked at him, curious. "And what might that be?"


    Godric failed to ask him as Byronard raised his hand and abruptly halted the discussion amongst the council. Both he and Faelor looked at the gathered Houses to determine what happened.


    "You can''t be serious, Byronard. They''re here? Out of all places?" Lord Browgan asked him as he pounded his fist onto the table, creating a dent in the surface. "I''m afraid so, Lord Dunwick," Byronard replied. "In an unlikely turn of events, they surrendered themselves to the Capital. Not willingly, of course, as they put up quite a fight based on what I''ve heard. Lady Tryst played a huge role in their capture. Not to worry--despite their status, I''ve given them sanctuary for the time being." He reassured the warden.


    "Tryst, why''d you do it gal?" Dunwick asked with an exasperated look. "Forgive me Lord Browgan, but I only did my duty. I never knew of their true identities until I pieced everything together." She responded.


    "I''m sorry," Godric stepped in to disrupt the conversation. "But who''s here?" Byronard wasted no time as he let out a simple whistle, signaling the guards outside to open the doors. A few seconds later, a familiar face walked into the halls.


    "Coraline!" Godric exclaimed. "You''re here!" He approached the young lady and gave her a tight hug, which Coraline was happy to accept.


    "You dumb oaf, it''s nice to see you too," she replied, smiling. "What brings you here?" She asked, curious.


    "I''m a part of King Ithilien''s council." Coraline looked at the elven king, who greeted her from afar by waving his hand. "I knew you were more than just a random traveler."


    "W-well, enough about me! What brings you here? I thought Lord Caine was representative in place of House Polifio." He asked her. At this time, Coraline''s face turned from a happy expression into a concerned one.


    "It''s a long story, but--" The heir to House Applewood was never able to explain to Godric what happened as sounds of rattling chains echoed throughout the room from outside the hall, followed by grunting and complaining from a group of men.


    "Let us out of these chains! I thought we were given sanctuary!" A man shouted. "Calm down. Shouting is not going to help us in this situation." Another voice responded. Godric noticed that he had a foreign accent, which only piqued his curiosity even more. "True, and don''t even try to fight back. These are the royal guards we''re talking about; the best of what Primera has to offer. You would be an idiot to try." Another voice chimed in.


    Eventually, the voices marched into the room with their hands shackled. Who on earth are these people? Godric thought as he studied their faces. He then stopped and stared at one of the three people who entered the room.


    "Say, weren''t you one of the old doctor''s students back in Rosetown?" He asked the man in the middle. "Who, me? Uhh...yes, before I was wrongfully thrown in due to false accusations--I''m sorry, who are you?" The man asked.


    "The name''s Godric. Nice to meet you all, I guess." The medical practitioner and the foreigner''s expressions changed.


    "You''re joking, right? He''s joking, right?" He turned to his partners.


    "I''m afraid this is not a joke, Cassian. This really must be him." The foreigner said as the man with an eyepatch tilted his head.


    "So this is the guy?" He looked up and down as if he were studying Godric.


    "Hold on--do I know you people?" The young man asked, confused as to what was going on. Coraline shared the same expression. Not long after, Godric heard another set of chains and steps echo from the hall. Eventually, the figure in the hall was now finally in sight.


    "No, it can''t be--" Godric''s voice failed him. He thought he was seeing a ghost. A tear began to flow in one eye, and he buckled as Coraline quickly moved to help him.


    "Godric? By the Divines, is that you?" The figure asked him. Godric responded by getting up on his feet, walking past the three strangers, and immediately hugged a person he long thought was dead.


    "You have no idea how great it is to see you again, Wyatt." Godric felt like a heavy load was lifted off his shoulders. The others in the room stared in silence, as everyone was in a state of confusion.


    "Okay, can anybody tell me what in blazes is going on?!" Lord Davenmere asked.


    "To put it simply, Lord Silas, what we are witnessing now is the start of either a series of miracles or a catastrophe of unparalleled proportions." Lord Byronard responded as he looked at the scenario unfolding. Everything felt so surreal, and everyone in the room now had more questions in their heads rather than answers.

 Ch. 20 -- The Powers That Be

    Slow, almost sarcastic clapping was heard from across the room, which caught the attention of everyone present. It came from the eldest son of Lord Isaiah, Caine Dewblossom, who was beside himself with laughter.


    "Well, well, well! Hello again, my dear friends!" He exclaimed. "It seems fate has indeed decided that we would meet again, but I never expected us to meet here out of all places!" The noble continued as Cassian stepped forward, screaming at him while a royal guard held him back.


    "It''s you again! Oh, how I''ve waited to cut you into pieces after what you did to Hawk! You''re lucky he''s still alive, otherwise you''d be in for something much worse!"


    "Oh, so that one''s alive?" Caine asked as he walked towards the group. "I swear I was aiming directly at his head. No matter, the next time I get my hands on a bow, I won''t miss." He smiled at the four of them maliciously in an attempt to provoke Xhiamas and Wyatt as well.


    Godric stepped in to act as a peacekeeper between the two parties. "Hold on milord! Everyone stay calm, please!" He shouted as he turned to his friend. "Wyatt, you know Lord Dewblossom?"


    "Know him? We almost died because of him!" Wyatt replied. "Ever since we escaped Rosetown, we''ve been hunted down to Shire''s Eye and Gillsberry by soldiers and barely made it out alive. Even now, one of ours is missing because of him!" He continued, angry as he spat on the ground that the noble stood on.


    "I was only doing my duty, as commanded." Caine then turned to the Warden of the West, who looked on. "I don''t suppose you played a hand in their escape, Lord Dunwick? I see that their mercenary friend over there bears the colors of your proud house." Caine said as he pointed at Flint''s blue cloth sowed with the symbol of a white trout.


    Lord Dunwick stood and approached the group gathered at the door. As he walked, a gentle breeze would cross the room. The winds, however, ceased after he stopped and stared the arrogant noble down.


    "I gave them safe passage throughout my lands if, and only if, I found their fight against your men entertaining. Lords and ladies of this court; believe me when I say it was a spectacle. The madness that ensued, Oh! What a fight it was indeed." He responded as Caine stared back at the warden before Dunwick returned to his seat.


    "I see. No matter--they''re here now. Let me do what I should have done on that day." He unsheathed his sword as the four of them instinctively stepped back and raised their hands in defense, chains be damned. Sir Byronard''s sighs were heard from across the room, indicating that everything was dissolving into a near-uncontrollable mess.


    A woman''s voice screamed throughout the room. "Stop it right now!" Godric turned to see that it was Coraline, who was seemingly upset by the chaos.


    "You cannot do this, sir! In my name and honor as the heir to House Applewood, I swear to you, lords and ladies--these are good, honest men!" She exclaimed at the top of her lungs.


    The other nobles of the court had mixed reactions regarding her sudden outburst. "Applewood...remind me again where your loyalties lie?" Lord Grimguard asked.


    "The Applewoods swore fealty to House Polifio, Lord Menethil," Caine replied to the hulking and pale-faced Lord as he turned to Coraline.


    "Who do you think you are, girl? You''re protecting scum--the very people that we are trying to hunt down and comprehend. What would your liege lord think of you now, knowing you''re defending criminals?"


    "She saved us from your men--leave her out of this! How dare you? You know nothing of our struggles!" Cassian shot back at him, protecting Coraline. "While you stand here, proud and righteous, your footmen are out there torturing innocents in this crusade of yours to hunt down runaways. What makes you, their leader, any better than the scum you say we are?" The medic''s words irked the eldest son of House Dewblossom as the other heads looked on with interest.


    Godric could feel Caine''s loathing and hatred for Wyatt and his group had become malignant. He still threatened to use his sword but found enough restraint to calm down and sheath it back.


    "Watch your tone with me," he said before turning to the lords and ladies of the chamber. "Forgive me for my brutish behavior, my lords and ladies, but I swore an oath to follow my lord''s command, and I intend to keep that oath." He bowed with such grace, and his words were sweet as if laced with honey, but Godric recognized killing intent as soon as he saw it, and Lord Caine Dewblossom''s eyes screamed volumes of murder. Also, he felt that something was off. Despite the story surrounding the ransacking of Rosetown, Godric found it difficult to perceive Lord Mikhael as an oathbreaker.


    "Can somebody care to elaborate on this entire debacle for us? Who are these people and what in Primera is going on?" Lord Silverkind asked.


    "Let me do the honors," Lord Browgan raised his voice as he settled back into his seat. "I request that everyone be seated--even you, Byronard. We''re going to be in here longer than expected."


    Dunwick then narrated his side of the story to everyone, surprising Godric and the rest of the Great Houses regarding Wyatt and his company.


    "An Arrow? Why appear now after twenty-three summers?" Lord Coppermouth asked Xhiamas, who stood in silence. "It''s been a while since I''ve seen one," Lady Alderth chimed in as he looked at him. "And a ravishing one too, at that."


    "Arrows?" The young Lady Blackstone asked. " Can you tell me who they are, Lord Silverkind?" She asked in a monotonous voice. Even Godric was in the dark as to who these mysterious figures were.


    "All I can say is they''re too distasteful for my liking, my lady." He replied.


    "They''re bad for business, that''s what they are. Always meddling in my family''s affairs since I was a kid." Lord Davenmere joined in agreement.


    "It is you again. So, the Arrows were responsible for the madness in Rosetown?" Caine stared a void into the eyes of Xhiamas, who stared back at him. "I''ve heard tales of your people; on how they''ve influenced the history of Primera behind the curtains. I would be lying if I told you I''m not bothered." He continued.


    Xhiamas looked at him. "It is true; what they say about us and what happened at Rosetown. The people there were under my command as well. I followed the instructions from my superiors. However, do not mistake the disappearance and smoldering ashes as our doing, ladies and gentlemen. We played no part in that."


    Caine approached the captain of the Arrows and grabbed him by his scarf. "Do you honestly think that this excuse will bring you safety from justice?" He asked, seething with anger. "Because of your organization''s actions, the entire military force was in disarray. Had our forces been prepared, we could have seen the eventual disaster coming!" Caine let go of Xhiamas, placing him back in the safety of Wyatt and Cassian.


    Byronard commanded everyone in the room''s attention by knocking on the table. After, he turned his attention back to Wyatt''s group. "The Arrows, despite their polarizing figure and questionable actions, have always been on the side of Primera. I''m sure they had a good reason to do so. However, you suddenly disappeared when we needed you most." The royal guard looked at a mural depicting the civil war that divided the continent.


    "What brings the Arrows back now into the fold?" He asked. Xhiamas stepped forward and bowed.


    "I am sorry but I am forbidden to answer that question. To relay any information as to why we disappeared on that day would be to go against the wishes of my superiors." Xhiamas replied respectfully, which irked the heads of most of the Great Houses.


    "Countless lives were lost during those times," Xhiamas looked over to the side to see Augustus, who was one of the reasonable individuals in the room but he looked for an answer. "I believe all of us here are owed an answer, friend." He continued.


    The Head Scout for the Wanderings Arrows stood his ground amongst Primera''s strongest figures and remained silent, undeterred by their status or position. "I am sorry, but I answer to no one but my superiors, and Al-Xenos, the one who protects me." He stated.


    "Your faith won''t save you, foreigner," Caine exclaimed, growing weary from Xhiamas'' tirade as he stood up. "If you won''t give us the answer we are owed, then what use are you to us alive?" The knight threatened him.


    "Then take my life then. I will have regrets, but many more shall take my place, and I can finally find rest alongside the spirits of those before me. Al-Xenos will smile knowing that I have served him faithfully." Xhiamas replied. Caine gave a wicked smile as he suddenly rushed to the Arrow. The room was suddenly filled with a presence full of dread. Augustus and Tryst were now shouting out to Caine, Dunwick reached out to stop the hotheaded knight, while the other heads looked on.


    Godric and Flint held back Wyatt and Cassian who were now attempting to guard their friend who held out his arms openly, waiting for the killing blow. Ithilien, who remained silent throughout the meeting looked to Byronard, who understood the elven king''s message.


    The eldest son of Isaiah Dewblossom was already a few feet away from Xhiamas before a massive wall of flame erupted, separating the two. Godric and company, caught off guard by the spectacle, looked past the intense fire to see Sir Byronard''s silver armor now cloaked in a transparent, shimmering veil. His black cape was now flickering white rays of light and moved like they were alive, while his eyes glowed with an intense shade of white. The man looked like a deity sent by the Divines themselves.


    Sir Byronard began to levitate off the ground unassisted. The man Godric knew suddenly turned into a completely different person. There, in that instant, he could see the reason as to why the crown regent of Primera was feared. This is not a practice of mana that one can easily replicate, Godric thought. This is a completely different thing altogether. He shielded his eyes from the bright light that emanated from Byronard, who looked down on them all.


    "What am I--" Cassian was at a loss for words. "Such beauty...and terror at the same time.." He continued while Wyatt caught Coraline, who was blown away by the sudden outburst of mana, and protected her from the intense flames. "Wyatt...w-what''s going on?" She asked, terrified.


    The lords and ladies of Primera sat firmly back in their seats, profusely sweating and in awe of Sir Byronard''s presence. His fiery figure consumed the room, enveloping it in an intense heat. People noticed that the sweat that dripped from their faces and onto the metal of their armor instantly turned to vapor the instant the liquid made contact.


    Godric imbued his vision with mana and noticed that everyone except Wyatt and Cassian was using mana to shield themselves from Sir Byronard''s magic. The highborn were doing well considering their mastery but were slowly struggling with each passing second except for Ithilien, who sat unbothered by the magic and looked at the display of authority.


    A few seconds after hearing grunts of pain from the different nobles, Ithilien waved at the head of the royal guard.


    "That would be enough, Byronard. Thank you." Sir Byronard then descended and his features slowly turned back into the ones everyone recognized.


    "Is everyone okay?" He asked, concerned for everyone''s safety. "I had no other choice. I know most of you don''t like each other, but it is not an excuse to behave like barbarians." He looked at Lords Davenmere, Coppermouth, Silverkind, and Dewblossom, who still lay on the ground, struggling to stand.


    "We''re okay, Sir Byronard, at least I think we are--but please have the manners to warn us first before using that form." Lady Alderth replied as she took a cloth to wipe sweat from her face. "I apologize, Lady Charlotte. I shall try to do so the next time." The royal guard then turned to Caine, who lay on the floor.


    "Lord Dewblossom, get back up on your feet sir. That was but a slight singe. I''m sure you weren''t injured in the slightest." Byronard said as Caine tried to get back up, but struggled to do so. He then looked at Xhiamas, who was down on one knee, and noticed that he not only had difficulty standing but was badly burned by the flames. A part of his face was seared off, and bits of his clothing were scorched, he was seething in pain, but still, he stood his ground.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Byronard moved to help Xhiamas but King Ithilien stood up and signaled him to stop. He then raised both his arms and began to chant in elvish. Godric could not make out the words but felt a tingle in the air, feeling that the spell was ancient, unknown to even l¨®m?.


    Afterward, his hands were enveloped in a bright, green aura. Godric instantly knew it was restoration magic, as he felt the same soothing sensation when he first drank the fountain''s waters and after days of being healed by elven magic. With a simple touch to Xhiamas'' face, the burned features healed almost instantaneously, as everyone looked on in awe. The elven king then waved a hand across the room, enveloping it in a spectrum of green colors.


    "This feels...oh wow." Lord Davenmere said as he felt a wave of coolness wash over his body. "The elves'' restoration magic is a sight to behold. Only a few mortals possess this foundation of magic, and only the elven king himself has such a level of mastery over it." Said Lord Grimguard as he too, felt the same sensation. Godric noticed a tinge of envy in his voice but looked past it as there were more concerning matters on hand.


    "Xhiamas, Xhiamas!" Wyatt immediately rushed over to his side. "Are you okay?" Xhiamas touched his face and breathed a sigh of relief.


    "Never better." He looked up at the elven king who had already extended his hand to help him up to his feet. "Thank you, great one. Your kindness is appreciated." Ithilien helped him up to his feet and smiled. "Fret not, mortal. Your commitment to your cause is admirable, and your faith is strong. I respect that. You remind me of another one of your kind."


    "T-thank you, Your Majesty," Wyatt fumbled with his words as he stood up to pay respects to the elven king. "You have no idea how much we are indebted to you." He said as he bowed.


    "Godric mentioned a friend had sent him to my forest. I am right to presume that it was you who sent him?" Ithilien asked, to which Wyatt responded with a terrified nod. "Y-yes, Your Majesty."


    "In that case, I am indebted to you. Without you, Godric would have never awakened his mana, became a friend to elven kind, and rescued our House''s sacred relic." Wyatt was at a loss for words. He looked at Godric, who looked down in embarrassment.


    "Oh...I see." Wyatt did not know what to say after hearing his friend''s accomplishments. He was proud of his friend, but the young man was conflicted after hearing Godric''s achievements. Here they were, happy to be reunited at Primera''s capital seat of power but on opposite paths. His friend was now an honored guest of the elves and in good relations with every person present as far as he could notice, but as for him, he was an outcast and a runaway with barely any achievements to his name.


    "Hey, you okay?" Godric asked his friend. "I''m fine. Let''s focus on what pretty boy over there has to say." Wyatt mockingly whispered to his friend while he looked at Caine who stood up.


    "Lord Dewblossom, restrain yourself. These three are under the protection of the Capital City. The three you see before you are witnesses to the nature magic used in Rosetown. Despite their status as marked criminals, their statements hold truth, so they shall be rewarded sanctuary as Lady Huntingborne has looked into their case." Sir Byronard explained.


    Lord Dewblossom looked on in confusion. "What do you mean, that their statements hold truth? These people are nothing but convicts!" He continued.


    "You''d be surprised, Lord Dewblossom. Lest you forget, my house boasts powerful magic as well. Of course, I could not do it without Coraline''s help." Tryst replied as she tilted her head and smiled.


    "Let me explain. You see: after receiving reports of an ongoing skirmish in Gillsberry, I decided to inspect the chaos myself only to find hunters and Polifio soldiers fighting everywhere. A simple wide-ranged sleeping spell later and the problem was solved." She continued, impressed at her work.


    "Imagine my surprise to find the local inn barred, and inside, were six people, one of which was a familiar face. I put him to sleep, which was no easy task, and knowing his reaction to the whole thing it was best to do so. A few discussions later, and I asked Coraline here to use her magic on them." A cheery Tryst pointed at Wyatt''s group as she patted Coraline on the head, who seemed somewhat embarrassed after being mentioned. "Her talents are quite remarkable."


    "I-it was nothing. Our magic simply allows us to look into the truth behind one''s words--a waste of magic on the battlefield, if I were honest." She continued, as she played with her hair.


    "It has its advantages, young one. Do not look down on your capabilities; continue to nurture them. Please, continue." King Ithilien responded.


    "Thank you, Your Majesty." She responded, flattered. "They agreed to Lady Huntingborne''s terms: surrender to the Capital and speak the truth to me and Lady Tryst. It took convincing, but they accepted the terms nonetheless." She continued.


    "Well then, what are we waiting for? If we already know that magic was used, then ask the foreigner as to why they disappeared years ago!" Lord Coppermouth said as the others mumbled in agreement.


    "That''s the thing, Lord Coppermouth. There''s something different with...him." Coraline looked at Xhiamas, who stood in silence. "Each time he tells us a statement, my magic fails. It''s as if it is having trouble discerning whether he''s telling the truth. I feel like my thoughts are warped each time I do so." Coraline explained.


    "As expected from a high-ranking officer of the Arrows," Byronard stepped in to explain. "Their plans are always shrouded in mystery, and their members are sworn to secrecy. Naturally, all of them were trained for situations like this. The process was painful, I believe?" He looked at Xhiamas, who nodded in agreement, hinting that the regent had undergone similar training as well.


    "It is pointless to then force information out of you. Rest assured, by my word as Captain of the Royal Guards, and as stated by law in the Codex, you three are given sanctuary for your actions and will be safe from trials unless proven guilty." Byronard exclaimed, which only infuriated Caine.


    "This is an absurdity!" He screamed as he drew his sword. "I will not stand for this!"


    "Sir Byronard has spoken, Caine! Stand down!" Augustus reached out to him, but his words fell on deaf ears. "I will not have my lord''s authority challenged, and my will opposed. I swear to the old gods and the Divines, I will draw blood--even if it kills me!" He vowed as the others looked on in shocked silence. Lord Dunwick broke the silence by looking on at the enraged lord.


    "Be mindful of your words. The gods are watching, Caine Dewblossom," the warden cautiously approached the brash lord. "Do you still wish to pursue this path? It is not too late--"


    "I swear it."


    "Then so be it then," Byronard responded immediately as he sighed, disappointed at the young knight''s actions. "These three however are under the Capital''s protection, so any action of violence against them is an act against our authority itself." He continued.


    Caine thought long and hard about what to do next, but a wicked smile crossed his face to signal that he found an answer. "Since we are on the topic of authority, whose authority is above yours, Sir Byronard?" He asked, catching Godric and company off guard, while the nobles looked on with mixed reactions.


    "Careful where you tread, boy." Lord Grimguard warned him as if to say he was now entering a point of no return. Lord Davenmere approached Caine and grabbed him by the shoulder.


    "Dewblossom, I''m impressed by your bravado and all, but even I have a few lines I don''t plan on cross--"


    "I was not asking you, Lord Silas," Caine coldly responded as he stared at Sir Byronard. "Your hand, my lord." Silas removed his hand and returned to his seat. "Fine then, it''s your funeral." He responded. Caine''s gaze never left, as he remained focused on the royal guard.


    "That would be the vows and laws stated in the Codex, good sir," Byronard replied. "What are you suggesting?"


    Godric and Wyatt approached Faelar, who observed the entire scenario unfolding. "Faelar, what is going on?" Godric asked. "I believe Sir Caine is about to invoke a sacred vow to his advantage. It is madness if you ask me." The ranger-general responded.


    Caine then looked across all the individuals present in the room. "Lords and ladies of the court! Hear me!" He exclaimed. "I am a man of justice and righteousness. Believe me when I say that no one is above the law! You all know this to be true! Nobles, commoners, or even royalty alike, we are subject to the vows of the Codex." He continued.


    "I find myself in a difficult position and therefore am left with no choice." Caine raised his sword and pointed it at Sir Byronard. "Sir Byronard, by my right as a citizen of Primera, and on my honor as a knight and noble--I invoke the sacred vow of Combat and Victory."


    A deafening silence filled the room. The nobles present had mixed reactions. Some were confused, others enraged, and others disappointed. Sir Byronard, however, stood out among the rest as he looked on in interest.


    "Very well. State your terms, sir." He replied. "Oh no, I''m no fool to fight against you, good sir. Only a madman would confront the Sword of the Morning in one-on-one combat." Caine replied, which confused the royal guard.


    "Then who do you challenge to a duel? The three of them are under the Capital''s protection." He replied. "Indeed they are, but one of them is not." Caine slowly pointed his sword at Flint, who looked at him with disgust.


    "Coward," Flint muttered his breath. "You plan on targeting me as a way of enacting revenge against Lord Dunwick while getting a coveted prize of your choosing if you win."


    "You''re smarter than I thought, mercenary. How about it? The first one to deal first blood or to make their opponent submit wins. The winner gets to choose anything they want." Caine proposed his terms of the duel.


    "Flint, you don''t have to do this," Wyatt reached out to their new companion. "Let one of us take him on."


    "I accept your terms and your challenge, nobleman." Flint ignored Wyatt and immediately responded to Caine, who gleefully laughed. "Bravo! This will be easy. Two birds with one stone." He then turned to Sir Byronard.


    "You heard the mercenary, sir Byronard. The challenge and the terms have been accepted. Nothing can stop this now." He continued. "Indeed. I pray to the Divines that you''ve made the right decision, Caine Dewblossom." Byronard replied. "Everyone, let''s put this meeting on a brief hold." The lords and ladies looked on in agreement as Byronard turned to a royal guard.


    "Call all your available brothers-in-arms as witnesses and gather at the arena within an hour. Tell them that the Vow of Combat and Victory was invoked." Godric and Wyatt observed the environment around them and felt an uneasy feeling rising in both their stomachs.


    "What in the seven hells is going on?" Godric asked. "I don''t know, but one thing I am sure of is that everything is about to go to shit." Wyatt replied as he turned to look at Flint, whose fiery one-eyed gaze at his opponent was enough to melt even the coldest things imaginable.

 Ch. 21 -- Preparations

    Godric and company were huddled in a spacious room after the challenge was laid. The meeting chamber was scarce after Caine Dewblossom invoked the Vow of Combat and Victory, and noises were heard outside their quarters, most likely coming from the keep''s inhabitants. Flint looked out the window, admiring the view of the bustling, marble city below. Everyone except for him felt anxious as he remained quiet after he had accepted the terms, and Wyatt could no longer help himself but ask their new companion why he would fall into a trap laid out by the cunning noble.


    "Why''d you go and accept the duel?" The blacksmith''s son asked the mercenary. "Because I hate his guts. No other answer will suffice." Flint responded as he began to unravel the white cloth from his forearm.


    "Coraline, tell us more about the vow. What does it mean for us?" Godric turned to the sweet girl who was on their side.


    "The Vow of Combat and Victory is among the highborns'' most ancient and well-respected traditions. The rules are simple: both parties must agree to a series of terms regarding their duel, and whoever loses must grant the victor whatever they desire, no matter the cost." Coraline explained to the group. "I have yet to witness any sacred vows invoked before, so I am afraid I am in the dark as to what specific consequence awaits us if we fail to meet Lord Caine''s demands, should Flint lose."


    All of them were silent as they thought of what would happen to them if Caine were to win the duel. Despite his charming looks and demeanor to the public, he was rotten to the core. Thoughts of torture and endless suffering had begun to surface in their minds already, given the man''s cruel nature.


    "Are you certain you can win this, friend?" Xhiamas asked, who was seated at the far end of the room. "Make no mistake--I do not question your talents and experience, but I warn you that the person you are up against is no ordinary man. I am certain he will find a way to cheat himself to victory, should fair combat not favor him."


    "I didn''t survive this long by being honorable and nice, Xhiamas. If he does anything suspicious then who''s to say I won''t return the favor?" Flint responded as he turned to look at them all. Looking at each of their expressions, he let out a sigh.


    "Listen, I had to do it. Even though you three were safe before the challenge was laid out, he disrespected Lord Dunwick and would stop at nothing to exact revenge against him after he had helped you three escape. I''ll not have some ill-tempered noble do as he pleases. I''ll be glad to knock some sense back into him." He continued, hoping to clear any doubts that they had.


    "All I need from all of you now is to trust me. Given the circumstances, it is hard to do but we have no other choice. If I win, I''ll also be able to get rid of him for you." Flint promised them. The doors then swung open as Lord Dunwick and Sir Byronard entered the room.


    "Sir Caine proposed a change in the agreed-upon terms," Byronard said to the group. "The option of submission is still on the table, but instead of drawing first blood to signify a loss, he says that a mortal wound would be a better sign of defeat. Do you agree to these terms? If so then I shall inform him immediately." Flint nodded in response, and Byronard was quick to dispatch a messenger to his opponent''s quarters.


    "The nerve of that brat. If only Mikhael were here, Divines be willing, I''d be more than happy to beat the ever-living hells out of both of them--starting with the idiot who started this entire thing!" Dunwick was fuming at the state they were in. The walls felt like they were shaking momentarily, which led to Cassian and Wyatt bracing themselves, leaving Godric completely clueless.


    "You two okay?" Godric asked. "No--yes, we''re fine. We just..uh..it was instinctual. That''s all." Wyatt replied.


    The warden approached Flint and looked at him dead in the eye. "Dewblossom is a screw loose, lad. I''ve heard tales about his combat prowess, but I''ve never witnessed it before so I cannot say for certain how skilled he is, but the only thing I am sure of is that win or lose, he''ll get what he wants. One way or another." The tone in his voice was something Wyatt found concerning, as this was the first time he had ever heard the noble show a possible expression of concern.


    "You worry about me too much, old man." Flint punched him in the shoulder. "I am being serious, Flint. Listen: the stakes are now raised. This most certainly means that death is inevitable." Dunwick''s last words rubbed off on the mercenary in the wrong way, as the wood beneath where Flint stood began to smolder, and the room began to smell like ash. Byronard gazed at the mercenary, and a troubled look befell his face.


    "...If you''ll excuse me." The royal guard quietly exited the room and disappeared into the vast hallways of the keep. Everyone found his sudden shift in behavior odd, as he always had a commanding presence that towered over most in the room, but all of that disappeared instantly.


    "What was that about?" Godric asked. "Sir Byronard is a busy man, being captain of the Royal Guard and the acting ruler of the country is no small task. It would be best to leave him be." Lord Dunwick replied as he turned his gaze back to Flint. "I understand your reasons in wanting to defend my honor, but if you were to ask me my opinion to your reason? Fuck honor." The warden stared at him, concerned.


    "...I''ll be seeng you soon." Flint replied, leading Lord Dunwick to respond with a quiet nod. "Very well then." The warden responded as he left the room in silence.


    It was apparent that the mercenary had already steeled himself for the upcoming duel but Godric could see in his expression that his confidence had faltered for a brief moment.


    "You are afraid." Xhiamas pointed out as he saw Flint''s hands tremble after Dunwick left the room. "I presume that makes me look like an idiot, eh?" Flint asked.


    "Not at all, it shows that you are not arrogant." The arrow said as he took a bite out of an apple he got from a platter. "It also shows that you should not be taken lightly."


    "I''ll take that as a compliment then." Flint looked out the window and stared over the horizon, where the sun was now beginning to set. He then studied the room they were in, and appeared to be lost in a trance. "We still have time before it starts. May I have some time alone?" Flint asked the group with a quiet tone.


    "Sure...we''ll be outside," Cassian replied as he left the room. Coraline and Xhiamas followed suit, leaving Wyatt and Godric alone with the mercenary.


    "Best get ready... and good luck," Godric said as Flint responded with a quiet nod. "Thank you. Also, this might be the best time for you to talk, considering that the both of you spent months thinking the other was dead." This statement caught the two off-guard as they realized that they had already numbed themselves from the mundane acts of simple conversation, and never bothered to sit down and talk about everything that had happened since that day.


    "Y-you''re right. Let''s go, Godric." Wyatt urged his friend to leave. "Right. Be seeing you on the grounds later." Godric said as he and Wyatt exited the room, closing the doors behind them as they left.


    The two spent the rest of the time conversing about what had happened during the time that had passed. They walked the halls of Wolfsbane Keep; their steps echoing against the marbled floors. Minutes later, they found themselves in the keep''s garden and found a pair of seats to rest on, away from the daunting aura of the structure.


    "Shut up. An elven princess, kissing you of all people?" Wyatt asked, not believing a word coming out of his old friend''s mouth. "I asked myself the same thing after it happened. How that came to be--I have no idea. Trust me when I say she''s the living embodiment of mystery." Godric replied as the two of them went silent. A thought crossed both of their minds, and Godric had to break the silence.


    "So, the old man truly is gone, huh?" He asked. "I''m sorry for your loss, Wyatt."


    "Thanks, I needed that. After he disappeared, I felt lost for days until they helped me up on my feet." Wyatt shared his opinion about Xhiamas and the rest. "They''re good people who just got entangled with the wrong ones at the worst time."


    "I recognize Cassian, and I''m sure we''ll be able to find this...Hawk fellow you mentioned. However, who is this Xhiamas person, truly?" Godric asked. "I''ve never heard of them, so I''m a bit confused about who and what they are."


    "Long story short, just think of them as good people who make Primera a better place through questionable means," Wyatt replied in a dull tone. "Their actions are troubling, but their hearts are in the right place. They say our history''s shaped by them, you know."


    "Really? That''s intriguing, to say the least." Godric replied. Wyatt then looked behind Godric and turned to the pair of blades that hovered behind his back, which had caught his attention since they were reunited.


    "Mind if I take a look at those blades of yours?" Wyatt asked, to which Godric happily obliged. He stood after grasping the twin swords with both hands and began to use them. "They''re surprisingly light, what are these made from?" Wyatt asked as he continued to do slashing attacks against the air.


    "I can''t say for certain, but what I do know is that Death''s Lament is a marked weapon," Godric replied. "Try placing the blades side by side." Wyatt followed his instructions and was surprised to see that the blades had turned into one, united sword. "Outstanding, isn''t it? Elmar, the blacksmith who gave me these, had told me that the blades can change shape. It''s proven quite useful so far." He continued.


    "I see..." Wyatt replied as he separated the blades. Godric looked at him and saw that he was deep in thought. "Something on your mind?" He asked.


    "Well, give me a moment to try something." Wyatt moved the twin blades so that the pommels would meet horizontally. He then slammed the hilts together, turning the weapon into a metal staff with blades on both ends.


    "What in the..." Godric was stunned. "Wyatt, you''re a genius! I never even thought of that!" He exclaimed. "Of course! Between the two of us, you''re the bigger idiot." He replied, laughing.


    "W-well, at least I defeated a monster!" Godric replied in defense.


    "Correction, you assisted in defeating a monster. Not an easy task, that much is true. However, the kill still does not belong to you." Wyatt responded but then remained silent as he reflected on his first kill.


    "Also, I''m now finally able to understand what you felt that day when Walter died. It turns out that killing monsters is hard when they look exactly like people, even if you feel like they deserve it. I felt like I would vomit, my hands shook, and everything was cold to the touch."


    Godric looked at his friend, who seemed to be going through the same feelings of guilt and doubt that he felt. "I also had recurring thoughts about what happened that day." He said. "However, if there''s one thing I''ve learned over time, is that life is unfair and that not everyone can be saved," Godric looked at his friend. "We only did what we did to survive. From what I know, fear is the origin of doubt, and doubt itself is the cause of failure. Better it is to do something to fight doubt rather than regret doing nothing and be consumed even more by fear."


    Godric said the words with conviction with a sense of emotion in his voice. Wyatt looked at his friend and it fully dawned on him that this was no longer the innocent, cheerful farmboy he grew up with, but was now a self-made man who was thrown to the wolves and had survived with the scars to tell the story.


    The mood shifted and became gloomy. Godric, sensing the change, immediately stood up and approached his friend.


    "Sorry about that. Spending too much time with the elven prince somehow makes you speak as if you''re a diplomat, of sorts." Godric jested while Wyatt let out a smile. "Speaking of weapons, I saw your new friends had theirs already equipped. Where''s yours?" He asked, curious.


    "...It''s a complicated story. Follow me." Wyatt replied as he urged Godric to follow him back inside the keep and towards the armory.


    The royal armory was a sight to behold. Entering the workplace was as if they were in another world altogether. There, numerous blacksmith apprentices were seen working to perfect their craft, the sound of hammers clashing with metal, precious ores were melted, and almost a dozen of the continent''s best workers were there to supervise the entire spectacle.


    "Where in the seven hells did they ask me to put it again?" Wyatt muttered to himself as a furnace to his right blew fire and came alive. "This place is too big for my taste, even with my experience working with iron." He continued as they passed by people who carried bundles of charcoal. Minutes later, they spotted a group of workers huddled in a circle. In the middle of the group was a royal guard of great size, who attempted to lift a war hammer off a pedestal.


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    "Put your back into it!" A worker shouted out. "What does it look like I''m doing?" The royal guard responded as he continued to struggle with the weapon. A few more attempts and he gave up. "I concede," the guard said. "No wonder he was unstoppable--even his weapon defies logic."


    "Nonsense," a man somewhere in his forties spoke out. "The hammer has an enchantment to it, that''s all. A marking rune that represents ''binding''. Look here." He explained as he pointed to the rune, barely visible to the naked eye. "It''s a marked weapon, all right. I never knew he possessed the talent to create one. The bastard! Even in death, he still finds a way to piss me off."


    "Oi! That bastard was my father, old man! Watch it!" Wyatt shouted as soon as he heard the man''s words. They all turned to find Wyatt being held back by a worried Godric.


    "Wyatt, Wyatt! Now calm down, he didn''t mean it!" Godric pleaded and pulled his friend back with all his strength as it seemed as Wyatt was out for blood.


    "And who are you supposed to be?" The man asked. "Wyatt Blackwood! Now get out of my way and give me back the hammer!" He shouted. "Blackwood? You''re Dale''s son?" The man looked disgusted at the idea.


    "Of course I am! Who do you think I was?" Wyatt replied. "I thought you were someone else''s kid! I''ve only ever met one person with auburn hair like yours, but I''d rather choose the possibility that you were hers. Imagine what would happen if the Ironclad himself had a kid."


    "Stop insulting my father!" Wyatt finally broke free of Godric vice-like grip and managed to get past the workers. Afterward, he held the war hammer''s cold handle and easily raised it over his head, shocking and receiving audible gasps from the people who were gathered. Godric called out to his friend but it was too late for Wyatt already swung the hammer down with inhuman speed.


    The sound of steel clashing rang throughout the armory, stopping all work. Each person turned to the scene, only to find that the royal guard from earlier had stopped Wyatt''s attack using the flat edge of a massive sword, with one palm behind the other end to provide additional support and to ensure that the metal would not bend.


    "Woah! You have a mean swing there, young one. You do know that it''s not nice to kill someone in the Capital, especially on your first day!" The royal guard jested. Wyatt attempted to raise his hammer again for another swing but was caught off-guard, unable to lift the weapon from the greatsword''s touch.


    "W-what kind of magic is this?" Wyatt asked, perplexed. "Let him go, Michael. He poses no threat here." The man said as he tapped the guard on the shoulder. "Not until he lets go, Viktor. We need to build a sense of trust first." He then looked at Wyatt. "If you mind, let''s all calm down and talk this over, shall we?" Michael said, calmly.


    Wyatt hesitated for a moment, but eventually let go of the war hammer, carrying the greatsword along with it which led to a loud thud that caused the stone floor to crack. The royal guard laughed. "What an interesting weapon indeed!" He exclaimed, bewildered. He let go of the greatsword and allowed Wyatt to pick up the war hammer, which easily detached itself from the blade.


    "Now that we got that out of the way, how about we introduce ourselves? I''ll start. My name is Michael the Protector, first of the Seven. Nice to meet you two." He said as he strapped the greatsword onto his back with ease. Godric compared his voice to that of a long-lost friend. He felt secure around his presence. His armor was different from the rest of the royal guards as his shoulder pads and armguards had a light brown color, while a similar streak of brown also ran through each of his armor''s leggings.


    "Godric of Rosetown, at your service. You..umm..might already be familiar with my friend, Wyatt Blackwood." He extended his hand which Michael accepted. Godric felt a pulling sensation as his hand approached. His grip was firm, his skin coarse, but the man was gentle. "I''ve heard tales of your exploits, Godric of Rosetown. Killing the monster that lurked in the caverns of Araphne is no small feat."


    "Thanks, but I didn''t do it alone. A life was lost that day, and I''ll do my best to live on in their memory." Godric replied. "Then whoever''s life it was, it was a life well-lived. May they find peace amongst the departed in the gardens of the Mother." Michael replied.


    "And you, Wyatt Blackwood." I was still an apprentice of a royal guard when your father earned the title of Ironclad. I was here, defending the city from rebels but tales of your father''s selfless deeds reached even our very steps. Rest assured, your father was respected on both sides. Since you are his son, I''d expect no less from you." He said to Wyatt.


    "Thank you, sir, and please, call us Godric and Wyatt. Titles don''t suit us that well." Wyatt responded, embarrassed.


    "I''d beg to differ! Anyway, apologies for what Viktor said earlier. He turned to Viktor, who looked at Wyatt as he tilted his head. "Now that I look at it, you do somewhat look like your father. Yes--the smug look. You are his son, alright." Viktor said, offending Wyatt even more.


    "What in the seven hells is your problem?!" Wyatt asked as he pointed at him. "Don''t mind him, lad. To put it simply, he and your father were once partners in their youth. Apprentices trained under the same master. I don''t know the details myself, but let''s just say they had a falling out." Michael attempted to explain.


    "Blood was spilled and a few bones were broken along the process, but yes, we could call it a falling out of sorts." Viktor quipped. "Your father and I were seen as prodigies in our youth, but he always craved for more. He grew reckless and I wanted no part of it." He explained.


    "Sounds like a different person when compared to the old man that we grew up with," Godric responded as he turned to Wyatt. "Wouldn''t you agree? Wonder what happened."


    "Me. I happened." Wyatt proclaimed as he pointed to himself. "My father died sacrificing his life so that we could live, and I have no plan on wasting the opportunity he gave us. Insult him one more time and I swear I''ll bash your head in, even if I have to go through others before reaching you." He said to Viktor, who laughed out loud.


    "Bahahaha!" He laughed out loud. "There it is. The brutal honesty of the Blackwoods," Viktor said as he pointed at Wyatt. "By the Divines, this takes me back." He continued as he then yawned and began to move. "I have to return to my duties. It was nice meeting the two of you. I''m sure we''ll be seeing each other more often. Have a lovely day." Viktor then walked slowly outside the armory as the apprentices looked on.


    "Well? What are all you idiots staring at?! Get back to work! I don''t need to look at your work to tell that it is mediocre at best!" He shouted, prompting the others to return quickly back to training. The armory was again brought back to life as the furnaces were heated up again and smoke filled the room.


    "Viktor''s a troublesome one. He''s a tough one, but deep down he respects those who prove their worth. I''ve heard tales that your father and he fought almost every time because they disagreed on almost everything, but he respected your father''s talent and found his behavior amusing enough to give him the time of the day. A few of their works still exist here in the Capital City." Michael said. Wyatt grew curious after hearing what the royal guard had to say.


    "Really? Father''s old works still exist? I''d like to see a few, if I may." He asked Michael. "No need to do such a thing. You''ve already gone and seen some already. This sword was your father''s work."


    "Your sword, is his work?" Wyatt asked, suddenly amazed by the durability against the hammer''s blow. Such a strike earlier would have dented it, and the heavy impact that even cracked the floor would have at least damaged the two weapons, but upon further inspection, he had noticed both were still in fine condition.


    "Yes. It belonged to my former teacher, who passed it on to me after retiring. It was created using the combined efforts of Viktor and your father. They had their strengths. Viktor was the creative one and handled the design while your father worked the metal. They say he always had a way of smithing as if blessed by some unnatural being." Michael was about to discuss the topic even further but was cut off as a smaller, royal guard appeared behind him.


    "Michael!" The figure shouted, surprising all three of them. "By the--you have to stop doing that, Gabby." He let out a relieved sigh as the lady then playfully jumped around. "Sorry about that, but we have to go. The witnesses are being called to the arena before the duel." She spoke in a fast and energetic tone as she turned to Godric and Wyatt who stared at her, bewildered. "It''s quite an exciting affair, really. We haven''t had a good fight since that one duel between Raguel and Remiel. Anyway, I''m off. I have to inform the others first. Nice knowing you two!" She smiled at them. Godric and Wyatt swore they did not blink, but she disappeared as if she never existed.


    "Yes...so that was Gabriel. Sorry about all of that. She''s quite a hassle to look after, but her infectious energy always brightens these halls. She prefers to be called Gabby; saying that ''Gabriel'' sounds too serious for her liking. Sir Byronard isn''t bothered by it, and the same goes for us." Michael continued. The two friends looked at each other, clueless as to what to say next.


    "I think it would be best to proceed to the arena," Wyatt said. "Agreed," Godric responded in return.


    "Right. You''ll be seeing more...unique personalities around these parts, to be honest," Michael said as he clapped his hands. "Well then! To the arena it is. Follow me please." He continued as they made their way through the massive workshop and continued deeper into the arena, where Wyatt and his company''s fates would now be decided between a nobleman and a stranger''s dispute.

 Ch. 22 -- Tooth and Nail

    "There you two are! Come, it''s about to start." Cassian called out to Wyatt and Godric who were outside the arena. The structure was large and circular, and it loomed over the vast field and forest behind the keep. Michael mentioned that the arena was originally built as a fortification against attacks from behind, back when barbarians and rebels attempted to overthrow Primera''s regime. However, when all resistance was extinguished, it was rebuilt as the Capital''s building to be used during festivals or gatherings. Despite the change in appearance, the fortifications still present gave the structure a daunting presence. Godric passed through the halls that led to the seats. He touched the stone walls and could feel traces of mana, most of which were faint.


    Michael touched him on the shoulder. "Something wrong, Godric?" He asked. "N-nothing, " Godric responded awkwardly, which caught the attention of the royal guard. "Let''s continue. The nobles are already gathered." Michael said as they continued inside and found a place to watch the duel.


    Godric spotted the nobles were already situated in different locations. Above one of the combatants'' entrances were Lords Dunwick and Coppermouth, accompanied by Lady Alderth. Lord Davenmere was spotted high above the arena, lying on a balcony. He appeared to be sleeping, completely unbothered by the ongoing events. Lady Tryst was seen seated with Lords Hawthorne and Silvermouth, while Lady Blackstone conversed with King Ilithien and the emissaries of the different races.


    A horn sounded from a balcony. Sir Byronard emerged from the shadows, accompanied by five other royal guards who looked as fearsome and unique as Michael. At the same time, royal guards appeared from different directions and found places in the stands to witness the event. "I must leave you now. My companions await me." Michael said to Godric as he headed up a pathway that led to where Byronard was. Gabriel suddenly appeared out of nowhere and scared Michael again, leading him to argue with her as they rushed to their destination.


    Wyatt nudged Godric on the shoulder. "So, those must be the other members of the Seven?" Wyatt asked as they glanced at the balcony above them. "Most likely. Even Gabriel was too much for me to handle. I wonder how Sir Byronard can manage being surrounded by such an...odd group of people." Godric said, dumbfounded. Soon, the sounds of chains rattling echoed throughout the arena, and the large metal gates of the combatants'' entrances opened. On one side, Flint emerged first, lightly armored with a steel mace and shield in hand. His equipment looked old and worn down, which made them worry about how the fight would go.


    On the other side, Caine emerged fully armored, his sword still in its scabbard. He carried with him a wooden basket that contained the petals of different flowers and began to scatter them across the field.


    "Arrogant bastard," Wyatt said. "Even in a situation like this, he has time for theatrics." Godric looked at the scene, slightly annoyed by Caine. For the first time, he understood why the others found him difficult. Flint looked at his opponent, who discarded the basket. "Are you finished?" Flint said as he gripped his mace and shield tightly. "Ready as I''ll ever be, good sir," Caine responded. The noble then turned to Sir Byronard, who looked down at him and understood the message.


    "Lords and ladies, friends, and companions in battle, we stand here gathered today as we bear witness to a duel invoked through the sacred vow of Combat and Victory," Byronard''s voice boomed throughout the arena. "The challenged has agreed to the set terms, therefore there is no turning back. Only one will stand as the victor, and the other will suffer the consequences. Combatants, are you prepared?" Byronard asked, turning to the two fighters below who stared at each other, waiting for the signal to strike.


    Everything went quiet. The tension was palpable in the air. Cassian and Xhiamas watched on intently, as Coraline silently prayed to the Divines for a miracle. The royal guards gathered in the arena did nothing but stare back and forth between the two, gauging which would walk out the winner. It was evident in their eyes that they were no strangers to duels, as they observed with focused looks.


    A sharp-toned bell rang throughout the arena. Flint was the first one to make a move. The mercenary dashed toward Caine''s position in haste, the light armor doing wonders. He swung his mace upward, attempting to end it quickly but the attack was thwarted as Caine deflected it using his sword. "Predictable. Do better." Caine mocked him as he ruffled Flint''s hair and pushed him back. The two then circled one another, their gazes never leaving each other''s sight. "Entertain me, mercenary. I haven''t had a good fight in ages." Caine said. The noble then moved with surprising agility despite the steel armor as he closed the gap between them faster than Flint had anticipated and swung his sword with force, forcing Flint to block the attack with his shield.


    "For a nobleman, he fights well." Godric and Wyatt overheard a few guards conversing as the fight continued. "Agreed. He would have made a good royal guard," said another as steel clashed with iron in the battleground below. "A pity about his opponent. I''ll give him five minutes or so." Wyatt looked on in silent despair, as he too could see that Flint was struggling with the fight. A few minutes had gone and Caine had gained the upper hand after he disarmed Flint of his mace, leaving him only with a shield. Caine was laughing as he attacked relentlessly, each blow being desperately blocked by Flint who was slowly receiving cuts from his opponent''s sword.


    Coraline, Xhiamas, and Cassian looked on, concerned as the other heads of the great houses were convinced that the mercenary was in over his head. Lord Dunwick, however, looked on in anger. "You dolt!" Dunwick shouted. "This is where recklessness gets you. Stupid boy!" Flint blocked an attack and stared daggers at the warden. "I thought I told you to stop looking down on me, old man!" The mercenary shot back, as he screamed and pushed Caine back with a newfound strength, knocking his armored opponent to the ground.


    Caine sat up grunting and surprised. "Finally. I was starting to get bored, mercenary." He looked at Dunwick with a wicked smile as he stood up. "I''ll make sure to make this as slow as painful as possible. Not only for him but also for you. Call it a token of my thanks, Lord Dunwick." The warden looked on, clearly annoyed. "Now, where were we--" The noble was unable to finish, as he was immediately struck with a hard punch to the face, knocking him off balance.


    The gathered crowd was now invigorated. What first started as an apparent massacre now turned into a slugfest as both combatants fought with a newfound intensity. Flint at some points used his shield as a weapon, using it to bash Caine each time he attempted to strike with his weapon. After receiving serious damage as the fight dragged on, Caine put down the sword and wrestled Flint for control over the shield, which led to him winning as he kicked him in the stomach and threw the shield across the field. The two relied on their fists, exchanging blow after blow. Caine kneed Flint on the groin, causing him to fall to his knees. However, he too would fall to dirty tactics as Flint gathered dust from the ground, blinding his opponent after he attempted to pick him up. Coraline covered her eyes at this point as violence was now too much for her.


    "By the Divines... when will these two end?" Cassian asked, somewhat impressed but appalled by the lengths the two had now gone to. "No one knows for certain," Xhiamas said. "When men fight with everything to lose, nothing is left but pure instinct. Flint has done well thus far. I believe he will find a way to win--He has to." Xhiamas continued as the crowd cheered on the combatants.


    More minutes passed, and the two were nearing their breaking points. Caine was bleeding profusely from the head after receiving a clubbing strike. He was also clutching his left arm as fatigue had now settled in. Flint on the other hand had cuts and bruises all over his body. The mercenary struggled to maintain balance.


    "Y-Yield..." Flint demanded wearily.


    "I admit this... you''re tougher than you look, but it appears that our game has now come to an end," Caine responded as he laughed. What on earth is he laughing about? Flint thought to himself, but he was suddenly caught off guard as he began to cough up blood. His vision began to blur and he fell on one knee. "What--what did you do to me?" Flint asked after he felt the cuts seared with an indescribable sensation. It slowly spread throughout the rest of his body, causing him to writhe in pain.


    "Flint!" Wyatt cried out. "What did you do to him?!" Caine picked up a petal from the ground and presented it to Wyatt. "Did you honestly think I would invoke a sacred vow and enter unprepared?" Afterward, the crowd noticed that Caine''s bleeding had stopped, and all his bruises were slowly fading away. "My magic allows me to take the properties of each flower and increase their potency. What I hold now in my hand is a petal from a medicinal herb. A moment, if you will." Caine proceeded to pick up another, which Godric immediately identified as a petal from the Damali flower.


    "Oh no." Godric spoke in horror. In a matter of seconds, Caine was now healed. Not fully, but enough to move around more efficiently. "Much better," Caine said as he cast away the petal and picked up his sword from the ground. "How fares our mercenary? Has the poison finally begun its work?" Caine sarcastically asked.


    "Trickster! This shouldn''t be allowed!" Cassian shouted out to Sir Byronard, who looked on, unmoved.


    "The terms were laid out. You heard it yourself, boy. No one ever said that magic was prohibited in this duel." Byronard responded coldly. His words were brutal and direct, however they were the truth. Cassian looked on in disbelief. "Get up, Flint!" Cassian and Coraline shouted in support of their companion, but things looked grim for the mercenary.


    "D-damn..y-you...!" Flint said as he slowly rose to his feet, still in pain. "It was fun while it lasted, Flint. You were tougher than I assumed you''d be, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I believed myself capable to defeat you without resorting to magic, but alas, you proved me wrong." Caine said as he raised his sword. One thrust after, and his sword pierced Flint''s body, wounding the mercenary but not enough to cause death. "I win." Caine said with conviction.


    "To hells with all..." Flint said in a weak voice. "What was that?" Caine asked, but was only met with a blazing stare from Flint, whose eye now turned a bright crimson red. "What in the--" The noble began to pull away from Flint, but was unable to do so as his sword arm was now caught in Flint''s tight grip. Soon, an intense heat emulated from the mercenary''s body, shocking everyone in attendance.


    "What...you can use magic as well?!" Caine asked, angry and shocked. The noble began to use his other arm and punched Flint in the face, but it did nothing except tear off the eyepatch he had worn, revealing a working eye that gleamed in a deep, violet color. "Who...are...you?" Caine asked as the heat was now making his armor unbearingly hot. Flint pushed him away and punched Caine''s breastplate. It caused a shockwave that was felt across the entire arena. It also launched Caine toward a wall across the field, breaking the solid surface.


    The arena was filled with applause and cheers as it was evident that Flint had emerged the victor. Byronard muttered a few words to Gabriel who sat beside him. In an instant, the royal guard appeared in front of Caine who fell unconscious from the attack. The wall behind him looked as if it were smashed in with a heavy hammer, and his adorned chestplate was now broken as a hole was created by the attack.


    "He''s out cold." Gabriel said. She then appeared behind Flint and raised his hand. "The winner of this bout, is Flint!" Cheers and applause came from all the spectators. The lords and ladies praised his performance by applauding or showing a simple nod. Godric looked up and spotted Lord Davenmere applauding for the winner.


    "He did it. He actually did it!" Cassian said as he, Xhiamas and Coraline celebrated. The festivity was short-lived, though, for the fire in Flint''s eyes flickered out, and his body began to collapse out of exhaustion. Gabriel was able to catch him before he completely fell onto the floor. "Uhh...I need help over here!" Godric and Wyatt were quick to respond and run to their friend''s aid.


    "Raphael!" Gabriel shouted. A royal guard then jumped from the balcony and landed on his feet. He was a tall man with wavy hair and had a quarterstaff for a weapon. His armor was adorned with a white cape that overlapped his shoulders, resembling what priests would wear during ceremonies. Without any wasted motion, he then checked on Flint''s condition, along with the wounds inflicted by Caine''s sword earlier.


    "He''s breathing, but barely. That burst of mana earlier took too much of his life essence. The stab wound and cuts have completely closed off as they were cauterized by the flames, so he won''t be bleeding out on us. Still, get him to the ward immediately, Gabby. I''ll take care of Lord Caine." Raphael said in a soothing voice as he touched Gabriel''s palm. Gabriel made a motion with her hand, and both she and Flint immediately vanished without a trace.


    "Will he be okay?" Wyatt asked the royal guard as they headed to where Caine was. "Your friend is in a critical condition. Rest assured I will do my best to keep him alive." He then knelt on the ground where Caine was found sitting upright against the wall, still unconscious.


    "Lord Dewblossom''s actions are questionable, but you have to admit that he is a skilled warrior." Raphael inspected the damage caused by Flint''s attack and breathed a sigh of relief. "He was able to gather enough mana around his chest area, which was enough to successfully protect his body from imploding. Flint''s attack earlier was a reckless gamble. Luckily, both are still alive. Godric, help me remove his chestplate." Raphael and Godric removed the armor and the royal guard immediately placed two fingers on Caine''s abdomen as he began to cast a spell.


    "I''d much rather prefer him dead." Wyatt said. "I understand your anger, Wyatt. However, sacred vows are not things that should be taken lightly. The terms were that either a fatal wound or surrender would decide which one wins. If Flint had killed Lord Caine, then not only would he suffered the consequences of breaking the terms of the vow, but the political landscape of the South would have changed greatly. This man is the eldest son of Lord Isaiah, who is already stricken with sickness. Its a miracle that he still does his duties despite his condition. His brothers have yet to come of age. If Lord Caine were to fall, who would stand as the South''s incumbent leader, given that Lord Mikhael is missing?" Raphael explained.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Out of curiosity, what is the penalty if the vow of Combat and Victory was broken?" Godric asked.


    "Death," Raphael responded. "It is not the kind that is instant, for that would be too kind a punishment--no. It is a death that is physically brutal, mind-breaking, and heart-wrenching. I have seen it with my own eyes and believe me, it is a fate that you would not wish upon anyone, even your enemy." Wyatt thought about Raphael''s words, but even then, he still held deep anger against the noble.


    Moments went by and Caine had finally regained consciousness. The noble groaned in pain as he was escorted out of the arena by royal guards. "I''ll be taking my leave now. Goodbye." Raphael followed the royal guards onto the ward, where both were to be treated for their wounds. Cassian and the others went down onto the arena. Coraline hugged Wyatt out of joy, which caused the young man to be flustered, this caused Godric to laugh seeing his friend in such a state.


    "What did they say?" Xhiamas asked Godric. "He''s alive but in critical condition. Raphael, the royal guard who spoke with us said they''ll take care of him and Caine." Godric said. "Good. The important thing is Flint won. This is essential in getting the Polifio troops out of our tails for good." Xhiamas responded, with Cassian and Wyatt nodding in agreement. Footsteps were heard and they all turned to find Sir Byronard accompanied by Michael and the remaining members of the Seven.


    "I and the members of the Seven extend our congratulations to you all. Lord Caine was able to find a loophole in the Codex. Were he able to win this bout, then he most likely would have ordered Flint to kill the three of you until he''d died trying. Despite your status, the Capital would allow this." Byronard said. "However, he most likely did not expect the tables to be turned against him. Rules and consequences indeed." The captain of the royal guards then looked back and forth between the Seven and Godric''s party.


    "Oh, I forgot that you haven''t met each other yet. These people you see beside me are members of the Seven. I''m sure that Godric and Wyatt have met Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael." Byronard said as he pointed at each member while calling out their name. "This would be Uriel, Jophiel, Chamuel, and finally Azrael." Each one of them acknowledged Godric and company''s presence by either waving or nodding downward. "The royal guard is small in number, but each one is a talented soldier in their own right, and the Seven are what we call the elite, or the Kingsguard. They have their unique tasks aside from protecting the Capital, as have I." Byronard explained.


    "It''s a pleasure to meet you all," Uriel said. "Hopefully we''ll see each more often." They then took their leave and left Byronard alone with Godric and the rest. "What happens now?" Wyatt asked the regent. "We wait," Byronard responded. "The two of them are in no condition to converse with each other nor with us, the witnesses. Because of that, I''ve already prepared accommodations for all of you here, in the Capital City. Enjoy the sights for a few days. We rarely get visitors here, so your presence is greatly welcomed. Also, another matter came up just recently, and it is something that I need to discuss with your friend here." Byronard looked at Xhiamas, who looked back at him and sighed.


    "He is here?" Xhiamas asked. "He is. Given the situation, your case is quite complicated." Byronard responded.


    "Hold on--who''s here?" Cassian asked. "The stranger back in the inn at Rosetown. I''m right, aren''t I?" Wyatt asked Xhiamas, who nodded in approval. "Yes. But I would not call him a stranger. Ziyad is an old acquaintance of mine." Xhiamas said. "He''s quite persistent if you ask me," Wyatt said. "What does he want with you? And didn''t you turn him away twice already?"


    Xhiamas went silent for a moment and looked at Wyatt. "I am afraid some things are best left unsaid for now. At the right time, you will know. Sir Byronard, I will meet with you in private to discuss matters with him. Where is he now?" Xhiamas asked. "I assigned someone to watch over him. I''ve been informed that he was last seen walking around the city a few hours ago. He should return anytime." Byronard responded as he shifted his armor. "Also, I''d like to speak with the two of you as well." He glanced at Godric and Wyatt, who looked surprised. "Of course, sir Byronard. We''ll be here if you need us." Godric said.


    "Good. I''ll be seeing you in a few days. I still have to meet with the Great Houses and continue our discussion. Once that''s done, hopefully, Flint and Lord Caine are in a good enough condition to talk things through." The royal guard left the arena, his dire wolf-embroidered cape staring daggers at the group before disappearing into the darkness.


    "It''d be best if we take a break. This has been quite a day." Coraline suggested to the group. "Since we''ll be here for a few days, we should make the best of our time here. Is anyone hungry? I can go and make apple pie for you all."


    "...That would be nice. Let''s go." Wyatt said as they all left the arena, hungry and tired. The group spent the next hours eating and resting inside their sleeping quarters. Coraline had baked desserts and treats, which were greatly appreciated by the men who had forgotten the taste of sweets. They also caught up and shared each other''s side of the story; how Godric survived and spent weeks under the elves, and how Wyatt, Cassian, and Xhiamas came and met Lord Dunwick, Flint, and Coraline.


    Night had arrived and they returned to their sleeping quarters after having dinner with the nobles and emissaries. Huddled around a lit fireplace with blankets, pillows, and food to comfort themselves from the blowing winds outside, they reminisced and joked around. "I remember when I first met Wyatt. He was such an odd one back then!" Coraline said while laughing as Wyatt choked on a grape. "I was planning on not revealing anything, you know. We were in a difficult situation and we had to be careful." Wyatt said. "Well, I knew you were lying anyway. I know magic, remember? Silly boy." Coraline responded, leaving Wyatt slightly flustered.


    "Speaking of magic, what''s yours Godric? Surely the elves taught you a trick or two." Cassian asked, which led the others to be curious as well. "It''s a bit embarrassing but I''ve yet to discover my foundation of magic. I can control mana, but only as an application of sorts. I can use mana to trace remnants of magic if I imbue it to my eyes, and just recently I discovered I can imbue my bare attacks with mana as well." Godric explained.


    "Intriguing," Xhiamas stepped in. "From what you have shared, it seems you have the foundation of enchantment. From what I know this type of magic is very rare in nature. My memory is failing me, but I recall great individuals in the past who have wielded what you now have." He continued.


    "I have to admit it has its'' benefits," Godric said. "How about you, Cassian?"


    "Me? If having the sudden urge to dive into battle head-on knowing its'' suicide is a foundation of magic, then yes, bravery would be mine." Cassian jested. "But in all seriousness, I''ve yet to awaken mine. I don''t even know if I can even use magic."


    "Of course you can. The elves told me that everyone has magic. You''ll awaken yours eventually." Godric reassured Cassian, which made the man happy. "How about you, Wyatt? Aside from lugging around old man Dale''s hammer, has your mana awakened yet?" Godric asked his friend.


    "Now that I think about it, no." Wyatt then remained silent as he stared at the hammer, not wanting to share the weapon''s secrets with the rest as he felt uncomfortable with the idea. "Wyatt? You okay?" Godric asked, snapping his friend back to reality. "Wha--yes, I''m fine. Just daydreaming, that''s all." Wyatt responded.


    "He tends to do that. Even when we were imprisoned, he''d prefer daydreaming instead of resting when we had some time off work." Cassian said. "How about you, Xhiamas? We saw you fight already back in Shire''s Eye. We never saw you pull off any magic but you handled dozens of Polifio bannermen easily--no offense, milady." Cassian said as he looked at Coraline.


    Xhiamas smiled at the comment. "That is kind of you to say. I can admit that I am an experienced warrior, but I was using mana at the time." This left Cassian and Wyatt confused. "Well then what were you using?" Wyatt asked. Xhiamas responded by pointing to the window. "In five seconds, a Nightfly will pass for us to see." Moments later, the bug native to the dark passed by the window and illuminated the far corner of the room, shocking all of them.


    "...Precognition?" Coraline asked in amazement. "I''ve heard tales of such a foundation, but I''ve always doubted its existence."


    "It is not that impressive. I can only see a few moments into the future. And even if I can predict an attack, I must be fast enough to avoid it." Xhiamas said. "It is also quite taxing on the mind. As you see, all of us are led to different paths based on our actions. If I see a strike and take it head-on, I can see myself lying on the ground five seconds later. However, if I react to that attack before it happens, the scene in my head immediately shifts to the next possible outcomes--thus changing what might have been and showing me what could be. A ripple effect, of sorts."


    "...Which explains why you prefer using a dagger and distractions when fighting to not overexert yourself with too much information, and for you to have time to decide what to do next. That''s smart." Wyatt said, impressed. "Exactly. We do what we can to survive. I learned that the hard way, Shaale." Xhiamas said as he showed a scar on his arm, which could have been one of many attempts to master his way of fighting.


    "I have a request," Xhiamas'' tone became serious. "I trust the four of you enough to keep my talents of precognition a secret. No one outside the members of my company and the ghosts of my past know of this. Promise me this." The four of them looked at each other and promised Xhiamas. "I thank you for your reassurance. I will take my leave now. This day had been quite taxing for all of us, and it had been days before I had taken a good night''s rest. Good evening." Xhiamas stood up and headed to the inner section of the sleeping quarters, eager to rest.


    "Well, I''ll be finishing a few of Coraline''s desserts here and a few grapes. I''m not going to miss out on quality food, you know." Cassian jested. "Understood. I''ll be heading off to sleep as well. Don''t stay up too late, you three. We still have more to do tomorrow." Godric said, leaving Cassian, Wyatt, and Coraline alone.


    "You''re a lucky person, Wyatt," Coraline said. "How so?" Wyatt asked her. "In all my years, aside from the ones at the Whiteflower, I''ve never met more trustworthy people than those you call friends. Cherish them while you can." Coraline said as she held Wyatt''s hand. Wyatt lightly tightened his grip as well, affirming his answer. "Don''t worry. I will." Wyatt said as the fireplace flickered with a red glow, somehow illuminating the room even more as the cold, bristling winds of the upcoming winter season breezed throughout the night.

 Ch. 23 -- An Old Mans Troubles

    A few days already passed since the duel concluded. Byronard and the rest of the Great Houses were huddled in the council chamber. The meeting was nearing its end, with important information and agreements being shared and settled to secure the kingdom''s future.


    "As agreed, I will dispatch a squadron of royal guards led north to investigate Lord Rykard''s absence. Being the Northlands'' warden, we needed his presence in this council." Byronard said as the other heads agreed. "I say this not by his status alone, but even his proficiency in the art of alchemy and sciences would have proved beneficial over the past few days."


    "What has the madman been doing up there, anyways? Apart from locking himself up from the rest of the world?" Lord Coppermouth asked as he scratched his orange beard. "Nothing good, Marius--that I can promise you." Lord Silverkind responded. "Even when we were young, I remembered him always shying away from the crowd; focused in his imaginary world." He continued.


    "Really? You never told us you were acquainted with one another, Hans." Lady Alderth said.


    "Well, none of you ever bothered to ask. And I think being acquainted is a bit of a stretch, my lady Charlotte. Our fathers were friends, so I was subject to frequent diplomatic visits to the North. I remember them quite vividly too, albeit not too fondly. The freezing temperatures leave a lasting impression, I tell you." Lord Hans suddenly shivered, almost as if his body remembered the chilling winds of the north.


    Byronard stood up from his seat to catch everyone''s attention. "He may be an...interesting individual to say the least, but his knowledge is uncontested. We need his expertise regarding the unknown substance lingering in Rosetown and his thoughts on why the frost drakes are getting more agitated, which is why I''ll also task Uriel to lead the squadron up north. House Wintertomb will be their priority, and then we''ll ask them to head to the dwarven capital of Ghor Nheram to observe the situation." He looked to the dwarven emissary. "I trust you can send word to Lords Sindras and Vargas?" Byronard asked to which the emissary responded by beating his chest twice.


    "Rest assured, laddie. Once we''re in the north, I''ll head straight to Ghor Nheram to deliver the news." Khandem said. "To save you the trouble, there''d be no need to bring any of your guards with me for security. We dwarves know our motherland better than anyone here. Bringing anyone else unblessed by the winter''s breath would only slow me down." He said while slamming the pommel of his axe onto the concrete floor.


    Byronard chuckled at the emissary''s response. "And I do not doubt that for a second, friend. But as a formality, I insist we send at least one of our own." The emissary hummed and thought long and hard at the idea, but gave in. "If you insist, then fine. But be sure to send someone who can handle some snow." The regent tilted his head downward as a sign of respect. "Of course. I already have someone in mind." Byronard looked and stared at the mural depicting the Civil War. Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind.


    "If you don''t mind, I also have a favor to ask. I feel you''ll be interested in what I have to say." This caught the emissary''s attention. "What is it, lad? I''m all ears." Khandem said, leaning in closer.


    <hr>


    It was late afternoon, and footsteps echoed throughout the keep''s infirmary. A squire carried an aromatic, freshly cooked meal toward a small area in the middle of the room where Lord Dunwick sat watch over Flint, who was in a deep sleep, still recovering from the battle a few days ago. The warden''s face was filled with deep concern, with a slight hint of regret being reflected.


    "Your meal, milord. Sir Byronard mentioned that you liked veal, so this was a special request." The squire said. "He isn''t wrong," Dunwick said. "Put it on the table over there. Thank you, and kindly leave us be." The squire obliged and did what the warden requested, bowed, and left the infirmary, leaving Dunwick and Flint alone with only a royal guard standing watch and the keep''s doctor. He put his hand on Flint''s bandaged arm, sighing.


    "It shouldn''t have come to this. I taught you to stay away from trouble but here you are years later, defying everything I ever asked or wanted." Dunwick chuckled. "You''re as hard-headed as your grandfather. I''ll tell you that much. Both of you never made it easy for me." He began to rotate his seat and eat the freshly cooked meal, which was still piping hot.


    The sound of footsteps and a metal object hitting the ground echoed throughout the infirmary minutes later. Dunwick turned to see Raphael standing over him, who then bowed out of respect. "Good evening, Lord Browgan. Did I interrupt anything?" Raphael asked. "No. Please, sit down. Do you like veal?" Dunwick offered the royal guard a portion of his meal, which Raphael politely declined as he sat on a vacant chair. "I''ll have dinner with my brothers later. Respectfully, you should be the one to eat up, my lord. I''ve noticed a decline in your mood these past few days." Raphael said as Dunwick stopped eating and gulped down a jug of water.


    "It''s that obvious, eh?" Dunwick asked as Raphael nodded. "The health of the capital''s citizens and guests falls under my duty as my title of the Doctor. The moment your demeanor changed when our friend here accepted the duel and you started to prefer water instead of your favored crimson cherry wine, I immediately knew things were wrong. Despite Flint winning the duel, you still have not recovered." Raphael explained. "If I were being honest, my lord, you seem to be in a worse condition than he is." The two of them looked at Flint, who still slept soundly.


    "You''re quite perceptive. I''ll give you that. I forgot that you were a soldier before being the capital doctor." Dunwick said. "Have you ever experienced real combat before, Raphael of the Seven?"


    "I''ve had my fair share of battles, and I was more a murderer rather than a soldier. My first victim was when I was nine, and death followed me wherever I went as the years passed. When I was to be finally executed for my crimes, Sir Byronard took me in, seeing my potential. He was yet regent at the time, so he risked his reputation on the line for me for going against the laws of the Codex. This act of compassion moved me. It was only then that I was enlightened. This led me to dedicate myself to preserving life instead of taking it. Have the others told you that I was the first to show my disdain after hearing that the vow of Combat and Victory was invoked?" Raphael said.


    "No, they haven''t," Dunwick replied. "So, even The Doctor of The Seven has his share of demons after all."


    "Don''t we all? Mine never really went away. I just...got better at hiding them from the world." Raphael said as he replaced a candle whose light was flickering out. He then looked at the warden with a blank expression.


    "Listen, Lord Browgan; as I tended to Flint, I discovered something I couldn''t understand, so I reported it immediately to Sir Byronard. He is now expecting you in the Ivory Tower as we speak, my lord." Dunwick stared at the royal guard.


    "What is this, Raphael?" Dunwick asked.


    "I bear no ill will, Warden. I swear it. I only shared what I found with Sir Byronard, and he ordered me to speak none of what I discovered to anyone except you and him. I barely even understand what is going on. You can rest assured that I will remain silent about this. Now please go, I''ll watch over him for now." Raphael pulled his chair closer to Flint''s bed and checked his temperature as he crafted a medicinal rune that steadied Flint''s breathing. Dunwick stood silently and headed for the door, eager, but defyingly nervous about what Byronard had known.


    <hr>


    Dunwick walked on the path that led to the Ivory Tower, a part of the keep where members of the Seven and Sir Byronard conducted their meetings. The path leading up to the tower was eerily quiet. The last people Dunwick spoke to were the other members of the Seven; Chamuel and Jophiel, who greeted him as they did their normal rounds. After stepping outside the courtyard, he saw the tower in all its glory. The moon shone down on the obsidian-tinted windows, as the sigil of House Ilyn swayed against the wind. Dunwick entered the doorway and climbed up the spiraling staircase. Moments passed and he found himself behind the doors of the office. He knocked hard on the door twice, and a voice responded in return.


    "Come in," Byronard responded. "I wanted to discuss something with you, Dunwick."


    "How''d you know it was me?" Dunwick asked as he opened the door and entered the room.


    "Who else could it be? This tower is my sanctuary of sorts, where I go and plan everything I need to ensure things go smoothly. It is quite rare that someone visits me at this hour. Even the Seven only come up here when I call them for a meeting. They keep telling me that this part of the keep is too eerie for their liking."


    "Well, they''re right about that one, that''s for sure," Dunwick replied as he closed the door behind him and sat down. "Let''s get on with it then. Raphael said he found something while tending to Flint, and that you wanted to keep it a secret between us three. What did he find?"


    Byronard finished drinking his tea and sat on the chair fronting Dunwick. "It has something to do with his mana''s constitution," He said, perplexed. "Raphael is one of the only few humans who possesses healing magic. He explained that, unlike the elves, he must understand his patient''s body anatomy and mana''s constitution before he can treat someone. After multiple, complicated investigations, he noticed something peculiar. Raphael said that Flint''s mana felt alive somehow--he described it as an anomaly. This is based on pure assumption, of course. But I believe Raphael''s onto something bigger than all of us--one that when discovered, would shake the foundations of Primera itself. We considered those eyes of his as evidence."


    "Evidence of what?" Dunwick asked, his tone getting increasingly defensive. "You already understand where I''m going with this, Dunwick," Byronard replied. "Why keep him hidden from us--from me of all people?" The warden stood up, agitated. "I promised to keep him hidden. I have only done what I thought was necessary--for him, and for the person I swore a promise to."


    "I see," Byronard looked at him, conflicted. "Based on the look on your face, it appears that you had no choice on the matter. Very well then, keep his secret to yourself. I won''t ask any more questions. However, he is to stay in these walls until he can travel. At least give me that." The regent requested which Dunwick agreed to, calming down. "I can agree with that." He then turned toward the door, prepared to end the conversation early.


    "The truth will eventually reveal itself. You know that do you, old friend?" Byronard called out, stopping Dunwick in his tracks.


    "I know," Dunwick replied, seemingly lost in thought.


    The warden opened the door and closed it shut, climbing down the tower steps as the silence greeted him with open arms. Somehow, the air seemed colder than it already was, and the world was slowly turning upside down. He sat on an empty bench alone and broke down as the howling winds drowned out his sorrows.


    <hr>


    Morning came, and the warden rose from his sleep. He was barely able to get any rest as his thoughts raced each time his eyes closed. The guests of Wolfsbane Keep were being gathered for breakfast, and Dunwick groggily walked toward the mess hall.


    Lord Augustus was the first person he met, who he found yawning and stretching as he ruffled his hair. "Oh, good morning to you, Warden!" Augustus greeted him. "Oh, what happened? You look like you barely got enough sleep last night."


    "Somehow, the bed last night was a bit too uncomfortable for me," Dunwick replied, lying through his teeth. "I see. Come on, then. It''s our last breakfast here in the capital, best make it count, eh?" Augustus went ahead and hummed a tune. A few moments later, Dunwick encountered Wyatt, accompanied by Xhiamas, Cassian, Coraline, and Godric, who were all in good spirits.


    "Ah! Lord Dunwick! It''s nice to see you!" Cassian said. "Good morning, my lord," Coraline said as she bowed, followed by Godric and Xhiamas. Wyatt approached the head of House Browgan and greeted him as well.


    "How is Flint?" Wyatt asked. "Doing better. He''s still asleep, but Raphael is keeping an eye on him. Hopefully, he''ll wake up soon." This made the group each breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank the Divines," Wyatt said, grateful for the news. "What about Caine? Where is he now?"


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    "Under the crown''s authority and the Order of Monarchs, Lord Dewblossom has been confined to his quarters. Once Flint recovers, he''ll be the one to decide his fate. There''s no need to worry about any trickery as the Seven themselves and Byronard will stand as witnesses." Dunwick explained.


    "That''s good to hear," Wyatt said. "Hopefully he gets what he deserves. After all the shit he put us through, even the seventh circle of hell won''t be good enough of a punishment." He said as he smirked.


    "Mind your words, lad. They have more power to them than you think." Dunwick replied. "Change how you carry yourself. I''ve seen many people who''ve gone down the same path you''re going right now. Heed my word and do your best to avoid it as best you can. Your father would be saying the same thing." Wyatt remained quiet, but Dunwick felt that his hate for the noble was still apparent.


    "Off you go, I''ll catch up with you all soon," Dunwick said as they all took their leave. He sighed and stared out the window, which held a view of the marbled city below. Young ones these days...they''ll be the death of me, Dunwick thought to himself.


    "You seemed troubled, Talonborne." A voice suddenly spoke beside him. He turned to see the elven king, emerging from an unknown plane as his body shimmered into existence, unveiling himself as if an invisible cloak had covered his being. Dunwick initially stepped back but breathed easy after realizing it was the kind monarch of the elves.


    "Oh, King Ithilien. Good morning to you. That''s quite an amazing trick you have there up your sleeve." Dunwick said.


    "Quite early for flattery, I think, Lord Dunwick," Ithilien said. "Something is bothering you greatly. Your thoughts are chaotic, and your emotions are in disarray. I trust Raphael has looked into this already?" He asked.


    "He did. Not to worry, great king--all of this is just an old man''s troubles catching up with him." Dunwick said as he let out a weak smile.


    Ithilien studied his expression. "I see. I know there is more to that, Warden of the West. It is difficult to hide things from us empaths. But be at peace for I will not delve further into this matter. I respect you too much for me to do that." He said as he walked in the direction where the mess hall was.


    "Join us for breakfast?" Ithilien asked. "Of course, King Ithilien. I''ll be right there." Dunwick said as he caught up with the elven king. Afterwards, they made their way inside the mess hall where everyone was already assembled and eating.


    "It seems they''ve already started." King Ithilien said. "I''ll take my leave then. Enjoy your morning, warden." He said as he sat beside Khandem, who was voraciously devouring boiled eggs and ham like there was no tomorrow. Dunwick sat down beside Marius and Augustus, both of whom were enjoying their meals.


    "You''re quite mellow today, Browgan." Lord Marius said as he took a bite of freshly baked bread. "An unusual sight."


    "That''s what I noticed as well, Lord Marius." Augustus stepped in. "Are you not feeling well, Lord Augustus?" He asked, concerned for the grey-haired warden''s well-being.


    "I''ll live. I didn''t get enough sleep, that''s all. Now, where''s the meat, and can someone fetch me my wine?" Dunwick said, who tried his best to change the topic and hopefully erase any unwanted suspicion or concern. "Now that''s the Talonborne I know! Bahahaha!" Marius laughed as he called out to a servant. "Get this man something to drink, if you would be so kind, lass!?" The servant gladly followed the order and disappeared to fetch the warden''s favorite. The rest of the breakfast continued without any problem as everyone enjoyed each other''s company, unaware of Dunwick''s hesitance to indulge in his freshly poured wine, merely swishing the liquid in its goblet. He turned to the far left to find the elven king looking at him, concerned. No words were spoken, but Ithilien kept his word by merely nodding and raising his goblet in silence to Dunwick, who appreciated the gesture.


    The joyful mood in the mess hall was abruptly interrupted as Michael, Gabriel, and Azrael entered the room. "My lords and ladies, I bring news," Michael said as he looked at Dunwick. "Flint is finally awake. Raphael''s helping him now as we speak."


    Dunwick immediately dashed toward the exit, dropping the goblet as wine spilled onto the floor. He passed the three members of the Seven who moved out of the way. The warden raced through the halls of the keep and only mere minutes passed before he found himself at the doors of the infirmary, where he saw Raphael in the middle of the room helping Flint up to his feet.


    "I admire your fortitude, sir, but I insist you stay in bed! Your mana is still unstable--you''ll find it hard to maintain balance," Raphael explained as Flint willed himself to get up while being assisted. "Rest first and eat, you''ve yet to have any sustenance except water." Dunwick immediately positioned himself to where he could help Flint up.


    "Easy lad--best to follow Raphael''s advice. He''s been restlessly looking after you since you passed out after the fight." Dunwick said. "How...how long was I...out for?" Flint asked. "Three days and a half," Raphael responded as they helped him onto the bed. "I thought you''d be asleep for longer, you know. That fight you had was something else." He continued.


    Flint was finally settled properly onto the infirmary bed. He breathed easy as Raphael drew the same medicinal rune onto his arm. "I''ll head to the kitchen right now and ask the cook to make you a meal. If you''ll excuse me." The sound of his staff hitting the ground was in sync with his footsteps as he left the infirmary, leaving the two to themselves.


    "Told you...not to worry...old man," Flint said in a weak voice, still exhausted. His breathing was steadier now, but he was in no condition to make any unnecessary movements. "Shut up and rest. These past few days gave me more problems than the recent decade did boy." Dunwick replied.


    "C-Caine? Where..is he?" Flint asked. "Locked up in his quarters. He recovered two days earlier than you did, but he was still injured. Guards are stationed outside his room, and Raphael checks up on him as you sprained his arm."


    "Did I now?" Flint said, smirking. "That''ll teach him some manners. Imagine...a commoner beating up a noble..what a tale."


    "Stop lying to yourself, Alexander." Dunwick pleaded as he buried his head deep into his hands, unsure what might happen next.


    A group of footsteps echoed outside the infirmary. "Flint!" A voice cried out. It came from Cassian, who ran into the room followed by Godric, Wyatt, Coraline, and Xhiamas. They rushed in front of the bed, ecstatic. "Thank the Divines you''re okay! We knew you could do it!" He said. "You fought well, Flint. If I had been in your situation I would have lost. Sir Caine was that good. That speaks multitudes of how better you are than him." Godric said. "I''d say the same thing," Wyatt agreed. "You have no idea how grateful we are to you."


    "Only...did..necessary-" Flint stopped mid-sentence as he began to cough up blood. Coraline immediately fetched a clean cloth and tended to him. Dunwick held his arm and saw the rune glow radiantly.


    "He still needs to rest." They all turned to see Raphael and Uriel walking toward them.


    "Raphael''s magic works differently from the elves. Unlike King Ithilien''s prowess in healing magic which is near-instantaneous, Raphael devised alternative methods to obtain efficiency while at the same time not risking his life in the process." Uriel explained to the group. "By leaving a lasting rune full of healing properties onto one''s body, Raphael can conserve energy and treat multiple people in one sitting. In this case, Flint''s body is trying to catch up with his mana''s restoration. However, the imbalance between his physical condition and overall mana is causing the healing to decelerate and is now causing side effects. At least, that''s my theory." Uriel continued.


    "You never cease to amaze me, Uriel." Raphael complimented his brother-in-arms. "What you see now are just side effects of the restoration rune I made. I could amplify its effects, but in the state that he''s in, it would only backfire. He needs food and water. Afterward, I can amplify the rune. Give or take, recovery would only take two days." Raphael tilted his head, calculating when Flint could be entirely nursed back to full health.


    "Well, what''s important is that he''s finally awake," Dunwick said, relieved after hearing what the two royal guards had said. "I''m sorry for ever doubting you, Raphael."


    "No need to apologize, warden. I was only doing my duty." Raphael replied as he nudged Uriel on the shoulder. "Aren''t you forgetting something?"


    "Oh! Thank you for reminding me, brother." Uriel said as he turned to Godric and company. "Sir Byronard requests your presence in the council room. It would be best not to keep him waiting." He signaled the group to follow him as he left the room.


    "Of course!" Godric said. "Let''s go, everyone." Soon after, the infirmary was empty except for Dunwick, and Raphael. Flint, lay asleep but it was evident that he was in pain.


    Raphael sat down and slowly breathed in and out while pouring hot tea into an empty cup. "Uriel''s theory is correct: the rune I made is less effective than normal. Lord Dunwick, Flint''s mana constitution amazes me so much. I''ve never seen such complexity in structure and form." He snapped his fingers and a glowing rune hovered over his open hand, flickering in and out. "This is the eighth modification of my healing rune. Even the standard royal guard only requires an average of three or four modifications before I can craft an effective healing ward. Michael took me five attempts, and just now, Flint broke Gabby''s previous record of seven." Raphael continued, highly intrigued.


    Dunwick looked at Flint, who groaned and clutched the wood frames of the bed. "You know well enough that the recovery time was a lie, Lord Dunwick. He is on borrowed time. I promised to look after this man, and I cannot do so if I cannot understand who he is. A sliver of information on this man''s history would suffice. I''ll use the Capital Library and modify the rune based on his foundation of mana. Only then, can Flint''s recovery be hastened and successful." Raphael explained grimly. Dunwick looked at him and saw genuine concern and interest in the Doctor''s face to save Flint''s life.


    He stood and slowly paced the room. The walls of the large infirmary seemed to be closing in around him. Phantom voices began to whisper words into his ears. The warden was cornered. Raphael called out to him, asking if he was okay, but the Talonborne was distracted by a distant memory. In a brief moment of weakness, he looked at the man who lay in the bed, and everything went quiet.


    "Lord Dunwick?" Raphael asked the warden of the west, who stood still and aloof. "Are you okay, my lord?"


    Dunwick steeled himself and looked outside the window. I''m sorry, Belarius. Dunwick thought to himself. I hope you can forgive me, old friend. The warden then turned to Raphael.


    "You mentioned you had access to the library, correct?" Dunwick asked the royal guard. "Yes, my lord. Every member of the Royal Guard has access to the Capital Library, but only members of The Seven and Sir Byronard himself have access to the Royal Archives." Raphael replied.


    "Good. I''ll watch over Flint for now. However, I must ask one thing from you. Byronard already knows it would lead to this, so do not fear any punishment whatsoever." Raphael looked at him, confused. "Of course, my lord."


    "Byronard has only scratched the surface of the truth, but I have carried its weight most of my life. Before we continue, I invoke the Vow of Silence." Dunwick unsheathed his knife strapped on his thigh and cut his open palm. He then handed the bloody knife over to Raphael, prompting him to do the same. "I''m sorry to have pulled you into this, lad," Dunwick said with regret. Raphael took hold of the knife and cut his palm as well. They then shook hands. Despite no indication of rain or storm, thunder boomed in the distance, indicating that the vow had been made.


    "What would you have me do?" Raphael asked.


    "Access the Royal Archives and pull out every book regarding House Ilyn. This next act might cause suspicion, so I invoked the Vow of Silence." Dunwick looked around to ensure no one was in the room with them. He then leaned in closer and whispered in Raphael''s ears.


    "I want you to take out the book holding information on Byronard. Do this, and I will tell you everything you need to know to save Flint''s life."

 Ch. 24 -- Intertwined Fates, Different Paths

    "A storm appears to be brewing up from afar," Xhiamas said as they heard the sound of thunder and walked towards the council chamber where Byronard was waiting. "It appears so," Uriel responded. "Come, we''re almost there." It only took a few minutes before they reached their destination. Uriel opened the metal doors to reveal Michael, Khandem the dwarven emissary, and the crown regent seated and waiting for their arrival.


    "Good, you''re here. Please be seated--We have important matters to discuss. I trust you found the city to your liking these past few days?" Byronard asked the group as each found a comfortable place to sit down and listen to what the regent had to say. "Words cannot express how amazing the Capital is, Sir Byronard. We had high expectations already, but consider those expectations completely shattered. From the food to the scenery and culture--everything was outstanding." Godric responded on behalf of the group. "The royal guards were also very accommodating. A few of them even took the time to spar with us. We lost, of course--but it would be safe to say that we learned quite a lot." Wyatt added, further cementing their bewilderment regarding what the Capital City had to offer.


    Byronard nodded. "Good. I''m glad you found the new environment stimulating enough. Now, let''s move on to why I called you here." He stood up from his seat and positioned himself at the center of the room. All eyes and ears were now focused solely on the captain of the Royal Guards as sunlight seeped into the room and cast shadows in the early morning.


    "To start: We''ve all received word that Flint has awoken--but he is still in bad condition. Lord Dunwick and I already agreed in a previous discussion to let him stay here until he is well. Regarding Lord Caine''s sentence, the Seven and I will look over that matter ourselves." Byronard said to the sound of reassured praises from the others.


    "Cassian, Wyatt." He called out their names. "Lord Caine was quite adamant in accusing you of being criminals, so I tasked Uriel here to look into each of your stories. It did not surprise us when we found that you were wrongfully convicted. By the authority vested in me by the crown, you are freed from all allegations or false crimes and may walk as free men again. As the crown regent of Primera, I offer my deepest apologies for the actions caused by such undisciplined soldiers." Byronard then turned to Xhiamas.


    "And you, Xhiamas--or if that truly is your name. Yours is an odd case. Uriel also attempted to delve into your records but found nothing. As expected." Xhiamas smiled at the remark.


    "My companions would laugh at me if my identity were discovered with such ease." He continued, but he suddenly froze as his expression changed. "I know you are there. There is no need to hide." Out of nowhere, a figure slowly emerged from the shadows cast from the chair where Godric was seated. Godric jumped out of his seat in surprise as did the rest of them, except for Xhiamas, Michael, and Byronard. Slowly, a young man who was as tall as Xhiamas fully emerged. He had a light brown complexion with rough features and small, black streaks were visible across his body. He scanned the room and slowly walked toward Xhiamas, his eyes laser-focused.


    "Even when shrouded, I''m unable to surprise you. I truly do admire your skills." The man said as he let out a disappointed sigh.


    "It''s you," Wyatt muttered under his breath. "You were the stranger we met at Rosetown and the same one I saw speaking with Xhiamas at Shire''s Eye. Who are you?" The stranger looked at Wyatt with a confused expression and looked back at the scout. "Xhiamas? Is that the name you go by these days? How so?" He asked to the confusion of everyone in the room.


    Xhiamas stood up in an attempt to clear the air of any questions. "My friends, this is Ziyad. A renowned warrior from our land...and my brother." Stunned silence filled the room as everyone attempted to make sense of the situation. "You have a brother?" Cassian asked in disbelief. "You never told us you had one." He continued.


    "It was information that I deemed unnecessary to share. And for the right reasons as well." He replied as he stared daggers into Ziyad. "We have all known that strangers are treacherous--but family members are even more so," Xhiamas responded. Ziyad frowned and shook his head. "Brother, so cold-hearted as usual. Time away from home has not opened up your heart to us."


    "That place was never my home to begin with, Ziyad. There is a reason why I left. I thought you would do the same and walk the same path as I did, but I can see now that I was wrong." Michael stood up and marched directly between the two siblings, who now inched closer to each other.


    "All right, that''s enough. We all know you''re well acquainted, but let''s focus first on the matter at hand." The two then stepped back, with Xhiamas seated back on his chair as Ziyad sat cross-legged on a stone table. "My apologies for the sudden intrusion. Our land is more...direct when it comes to settling disputes." The stranger said as he looked at Byronard.


    Byronard gave a nod of gratitude. "Apology accepted. Now where shall we start? Ah yes. As you all can see, we have Khandem, the dwarven emissary." He looked at the dwarf, who seemed ecstatic.


    "How you all doin'' lads? I see even humans have problems when it comes to family reunions as well." He said, chuckling. "You''re all a bunch of spirited ones, I like that." He continued as he looked at every one in the room.


    "Indeed they are, old friend. You see; Khandem here is returning north to the dwarven capital of Ghor Nheram to share what was discussed during the recently concluded proceedings. Given that all of you are free, it would be safe to presume that you would not refuse a request from the Capital itself?" Byronard asked.


    Wyatt and Cassian turned to Xhiamas, the de facto leader of their group. They both knew they would not have made it this far without his help and waited for his word. The Arrow, without looking, immediately spoke to both of them. "If you are worried about my consent, there is no need to do so. You are free men--free to do whatever you please, even if you initially wanted to join the brotherhood." He said as he turned to Wyatt.


    "I only promised your father to watch over you and direct you to a better life and give you a second chance. But you have grown, young one. I do not see myself looking after you any more. Also, this is that second chance that your father desperately wanted you to have. Seize it while you can." Xhiamas explained.


    Wyatt looked at him with a look of gratitude. "We won''t let you down. Thank you, Xhiamas, for everything." He turned to Byronard, who eagerly awaited Wyatt''s response.


    "What is to be done?" Wyatt asked the regent, who smiled at the remark. "Without hesitation. You truly are the Blackwood''s son."


    Khandem looked at him, surprised. "He''s the Ironhand''s runt?" Khandem jumped over the table and quickly approached Wyatt. "Hold out your hand for me, son." Wyatt extended his left arm and the emissary held onto it tight. Khandem then screamed out what seemed to be a spell as the room burst into a flash of light that blinded everyone. When their vision was restored, Wyatt and Khandem were surrounded by a circle of what appeared to be hardened magma.


    "Well, the Smith himself be damned--you are his son!" Khandem exclaimed in excitement.


    "Which is why I thought it''d be best to send him north to accompany you, good friend," Byronard said from afar. "I feel the dwarves will have much to offer you, Wyatt. The dwarves were your father''s friends in his youth. He learned almost everything he knew from them. Is the Hermit still...?" He asked Khandem, who nodded in response. "Who knows? At best, the old one''s still up in the mountains, minding his own business. But I believe he''s still alive--I think." The emissary grumbled, leaving Godric''s group confused.


    "Wherever Wyatt''s going, count me in!" Cassian exclaimed. "I don''t have anything going for me as of the moment, and I''ve never been up north. I''d like to see what''s up there before returning to practicing medicine." Byronard approved the man''s request.


    "Very well then. Also, Cassian, as you can see, we are a bit short of doctors here in the Capital as Raphael prefers to handle everything by himself, but I spoke with him to open up positions to at least lighten his time from work. Would you like to be taken under his wing? I''m sure he''ll enjoy the company. I can make arrangements to do so--only say the word." Byronard offered Cassian, whose eyes gleamed with joy. "O-of course!" He stuttered, bewildered at the offer. "It would be my greatest honor to learn from the best!"


    Godric then stood up, believing it was the right time to proclaim his intentions. "I''ll go north as well." He said.


    "No. I''m afraid you''ll do no such thing, Godric." Byronard responded, which caught the young man off guard.


    "Sir Byronard, with all due respect, may I ask why?" Godric asked, curious about the regent''s words. "This is because I am sending you in a different direction altogether. To be more specific, east." Byronard said as he pointed to a map of the known world carved into the wall of the council chamber.


    Godric studied the map and where the captain of the Royal Guard was pointing, which gave him a mixed sense of excitement and confusion. "Azane?" Godric asked. "You want me to cross the Evergleam Ocean and head to the Continent of Sand? But what would I do there?" He continued, intrigued by the developments. "I would also like to know why you want to send young Godric to my homeland." Xhiamas stepped in between the two. "As far as I remember, Azane is untamed. Our clans are still engaged in conflict, and sending him there; a foreigner, would only put his life in danger." Godric was caught off guard as the Arrow''s demeanor suddenly shifted.


    "I can agree with my brother''s words," Ziyad spoke from the corner of the room. "He''ll die a brutal death. I can assure you of that."


    Byronard walked toward the map and turned until he could see everyone. "This is because I believe Godric''s talents are wasted here. Michael shared something quite intriguing before the duel started." Byronard said as he turned to face the group. "What did you find?" Xhiamas asked him as the regent turned to Michael, who stood and faced Godric.


    "Godric, may I ask what your foundation of magic is?" Michael questioned the young man.


    "Well...I can only fortify my unarmed attacks with mana--I learned this by accident during a quest inside the Caverns of Araphne." Godric replied.


    "I see. So this associates you under the foundation of Fortification--a rare trait. Those with enough knowledge can fortify their bodies with mana, but only for defense and never for offensive measures. You are the first person in over six decades to have this skill, with the last one being my predecessor--even Sir Byronard himself does not possess this skill." Michael explained. "This is where things get...complicated. At the arena, I saw you trace the flow of mana that still lingers in the structure, presumably a trick you learned from the elves. But the thing that I found intriguing was that you jolted back after the mana surged into your body."


    "Wait...how did you know?" Godric asked, shocked at Michael''s revelation.


    "I was born with the rare ability to feel and manipulate metals. I can bend them to my will, and change their entire form, malleability, or strength in any way I desire. My magic enables me to lift my great sword, nor would I have been able to deflect the blow from Wyatt''s hammer. That moment, you paused in the arena, I could feel as if the metals all around me speak and my control over it being overturned--with the source being you." The royal guard explained.


    "Impossible," Ziyad suddenly approached the table after he had heard the revelation. "That cannot be--surely you jest." He then looked at Godric in a different light, almost as if he had seen the Divines themselves. "Godric, I am not saying that I do not trust Michael, but I need concrete evidence. Everyone, brace yourselves." Byronard said as the room was enshrouded in vivid lights. The sight was a spectacle to behold, and everyone observed in awe. Moments passed and everything went back to normal.


    "That was a simple trick I learned in my youth. Back then I used this for games and entertainment, but I need you to be completely honest with me, Godric." Godric felt the regent''s words burn into his mind. "Which part of the room shines the brightest for you?" He asked to the confusion of the others. Wyatt and the other people in the room looked around to find nothing out of the ordinary, but Godric looked at the carved map and suddenly, an unknown memory entered his mind. Without hesitation, he pointed to a place familiar to all citizens of Primera. Godric suddenly stood as if he were in a trance, while his eyes were filled with a marbled, polished hue.


    "There, Mount Dorba. At the site where the Civil War ended." Godric said in a monotone voice as the original color of his eyes returned and the boy snapped back to reality. "A memory entered my mind after I caught a glimpse of it. It was only for a brief second, but I was holding the body of someone unfamiliar to me. He had golden hair and angelic features. His armor was in ruins, and his body was wounded all over--but he died with a smile on his face." His voice then waned as he felt anger, despair, and grief consume him all at once, which scared him.


    "...W-what is going on? Who was that?" The young man asked Byronard as he stumbled onto the ground. "I''m sorry for doing that, Godric. But I needed proof. You saw a memory of me holding the late King Alaric in my hands after the war ended. The elves are also known to trace signs of mana, which I believe was a skill you learned during your time in their realm, but to prove that you were an empath, I had to burn a significant memory of mine into the map. Were you not one, the memory would go unnoticed." Byronard explained as he helped Godric up to his feet.


    Xhiamas approached Byronard with haste. "This is impossible. No mortal can ever have two foundations of--" His voice trailed off. "No. It cannot be." He then grasped Byronard''s shoulder guard. "Do not do this--please. This is a risk we cannot take. My people have shed blood because of this. If they know, you risk throwing Azane asunder. Do not take away the little peace that we are struggling to maintain. I beg of you." Xhiamas pleaded. Strange, rhythmic hums akin to worship were heard from the room''s side. They saw Ziyad on his knees with his hands outwards as he prayed in a foreign language.


    "Uhrihim! Magaz-val sulyek, vagar-val suldafin. Nadur ashtirinah-tuuhri!" Ziyad wailed to the heavens. He covered his face with his hands and extended his palms outward to the sky as if calling out to some unknown deity.


    Wyatt went over to Coraline and Cassian''s side and shifted to a defensive stance. "What''s with him? What''s going on with Godric?" He asked as Ziyad repeated the chants and actions as if he were possessed. The words echoed throughout the chamber halls. Despite not knowing the language, the others felt an eerie chill crawl up their spines.


    "Stop it, Ziyad. You are scaring them." Xhiamas spoke to his brother with little success. The man was fully committed and ignored the world around him. "I am asking--no, pleading, that you do not send him to Azane, Sir Byronard. If you want evidence, here it is in the flesh." He said to the crown regent, his voice now filled with agitation.


    "I''m sorry, Xhiamas. But I am left with no choice. Because of the recent events, the other Great Houses and I are convinced that the disappearance of House Polifio and Rosetown is merely the start of something bigger than Primera has ever seen since its conception. We have to be prepared. As acting regent, I would do anything to ensure that this land and its people will survive. Anything." Byronard looked at Xhiamas with conviction. The atmosphere in the room was tense as things began to spiral rapidly into chaos, but the regent calmed himself before he could say something he could regret.


    "I know what I am doing is insane--a dreamer''s hope at best, but what would you have me do?" He asked as he took a seat at the table. His eyes were weary, and for the first time, looked desperate. "We are faced with an unknown threat. Panic is spreading like wildfire throughout the lands. The dreaded beasts up north are stirring for the first time in hundreds of years and a Great House has disappeared like the wind. I am tired. I would be lying if I said I could shoulder all of this on my own." Byronard said as the group felt sorry for him. At that moment it dawned on them that the Sword of the Morning was still as human as they were.


    Godric silently approached Byronard. "When shall I leave, Sir Byronard?" He asked. "You understand that if you continue, there is no turning back, Godric," Xhiamas warned him. "I won''t lie, I''m afraid as well, Xhiamas. I barely know what is happening, but I can''t sit by and watch while everyone is doing their part." Godric replied. Byronard looked up and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, lad. You have no idea how much this means to me." The regent let out a weak smile.


    Coraline slowly raised her hand, which caught everyone''s attention. The lady was eager to ask a question or two. "Pardon me, my lord," she asked Byronard. "I have so many questions. If I may, how come Godric possesses two foundations of magic, and why send him to Azane of all places?" Coraline wanted answers, as did everyone else. "I want to know too, milord. What''s going on with Godric?" Cassian inserted himself into the conversation, eager to know. Wyatt stood in silence and exchanged looks with the regent, who knew what was already on the young man''s mind.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "I believe it would be best if I were the one to shed light on this situation for I already understand what Sir Byronard is planning to do," Xhiamas said. "Also, a child of the sands is better suited to explain our own beliefs rather than foreigners--I meant no offense, of course." He looked at Byronard who chuckled at the response. "No offense taken. Please, be my guest." He replied as he gave Xhiamas the reigns.


    "To start, Azane is very much like the Primera of old: bloody, chaotic, and unforgiving," Xhiamas said as he walked around the chamber to ensure everyone could hear him. "Regions of Azane are controlled by three tribes of royal status, entangled in a three-way deadlock for power, wealth, and the most dangerous of all, faith." He continued with a grim look on his face.


    "Faith? But isn''t that supposed to be a good thing?" Coraline asked. "Too much of something good is dangerous, young one. My brother is proof of that." They looked at Ziyad, who remained committed to his prayers, unbothered.


    "There is a story rooted deeply in Azanean culture. Long ago, the continent was not the near-barren wasteland that you see it to be now. Everything was perfect: glistening waters, the regions all teeming with wildlife, and yet, no being had ever come across it--even the elves and abussonians themselves, who are known as the first creations of your gods." The scout narrated. "Then, as the stories go, a stranger stumbled onto the continent and decided to return to the known world and inform everyone he knew of what he had discovered in hopes that those who believed him could settle into this new world. I believe this event is known to you Primerans as the Evergleam Voyage, no?" Xhiamas asked the group.


    "Wait, that must be a mistake," Godric said. "The story about the voyage talks about the exile of criminals and the most evil of people across the ocean to distant lands as punishment for their sins. It''s a children''s tale that adults tell their children to avoid doing bad things." He continued as the room fell silent.


    Michael then let out an amused laugh. "I get it now. That''s quite hilarious." He muttered to himself. "What is it?" Cassian asked him, confused.


    "The Evergleam Voyage. Its all a huge lie. Think about it. In the past, Primera was nothing but a mess. Death, famine, war; everything wrong in the world was found right here. If you were to start anew, wouldn''t you attempt and seize every opportunity possible?" Michael explained.


    "Well...that is true. But calling them criminals is too much, is it not? Why not explorers, or voyagers?" Coraline asked the royal guard.


    "Good point, my lady. Unless...someone intentionally twisted the story midway." Michael replied as Byronard looked at him with an odd look. "Something on your mind, Michael?" Byronard seemed intrigued by Michael''s statement. "If memory serves me right; the story of the Evergleam Voyage took place around the time when this great kingdom was first established by King Unrel of House Ilyn. I think it would be disadvantageous for him to have his subjects leave him for a new settlement, a peaceful one at that. What if some of the first inhabitants of Azane were from Primera? And the king branded all those who followed their footsteps as criminals?" The royal guard''s words had a ring of possibility to them.


    "I think that''s enough of a dive into Primera''s history for one day, Michael," Byronard cut the conversation short. "Let''s allow Xhiamas to continue," Michael responded with a nod as all eyes and ears were focused back on Xhiamas.


    "He is not far from the truth, you know. One of the royal tribes is actually of Primeran descent. They have magic that I can describe to be similar to yours, which I could explain why their tribe has remained in their seat of power for this long." Xhiamas revealed to them. "A foreign tribe of Primeran descent? Fascinating!" Coraline said in awe. "It would be wise to not jump into positive remarks, my dear. They''re quite...different from what you expect from a Primeran. It would be best if one would never cross paths with their tribe." Xhiamas continued as Coraline withdrew the smile from her face.


    "Moving on, the story then goes on to say that the first people who followed the stranger chose him as their leader. We call him Al-Xenos, the foreigner. Our people revere him as a god, even to this day. Tales say he held great powers that propelled the first kingdom of Azane to prosper. Like Godric, he also possessed the ability to have multiple foundations of magic." Xhiamas said as he looked at Godric, who took in the story with doubt.


    "The people who followed him were given the status of royalty and established their tribes, who were then tasked to rule over different regions of Azane. But on one fateful day, the land was struck with a terrible storm that defied the very laws of nature, which turned Azane into the wasteland that it is today. Azanean culture depicts it as a punishment given by the gods themselves to the people for desecrating their precious creations." Xhiamas said as he gazed at the map, to where Azane was located.


    "And when it mattered the most, Al-Xenos disappeared and left the people to fight for themselves. Half of our people, including me, believe that the tragedy was caused by Al-Xenos himself as a test so that we could learn how to live by ourselves, and we no longer needed his direct guidance." He said as he then turned to his brother. "However, the other half turned into fanatics, and believed that Al-Xenos simply returned to the realm of the gods and waged war with them, fighting in our name to exact revenge for the lives that were lost in the disaster. They then believe that one day, when the war is finally over he will return, triumphant but weakened, and he will bid his time to regain the power that he once had. Al-Xenos left without mentioning which tribe would lead Azane into the new world, and so the land was split and descended into chaos, with the fanatics believing that only he could unite the land once more." Xhiamas said as he let out a wry chuckle. "It is a stupid story if I were to be honest."


    "So...are you saying that half of the population of Azane would look at Godric as if he was their promised messiah?" Wyatt asked. "Exactly my point. Take a look at my brother; I think he is all the proof that you need." Wyatt looked at Ziyad and felt a discomfort like never before. "You''re right. It is an unsettling sight." He said as Ziyad''s prayers still echoed throughout the room. "But where does Godric fit into the grander scheme of things?" Wyatt asked.


    "If I may, Xhiamas." Byronard said as Xhiamas stepped aside to give room for the regent. "Godric, I want you to immerse yourself in Azanean culture. Interact with its people, understand their ways, and come into talks with the ruling tribes. Hopefully, we''ll be able to unite the continent into one, powerful nation--an allied nation that could help us in the war to come." Byronard placed his hand on Godric''s shoulder.


    "W-what war?" Godric asked.


    "A war that this world has never seen before." One could hear a pin drop as Byronard uttered the words. Xhiamas looked at him, seemingly unsurprised at the revelation. "Uriel will go north as the leader of the expedition to accompany Wyatt, Cassian, and Khandem to Ghor Nheram, but he will personally take a quick detour afterward to locate Lord Rykard of House Wintertomb, who was unable to attend the proceedings for unknown reasons, and escort him here. Lord Rykard specializes in the study of science and the divine. His presence here was sorely needed, even more so after Uriel discovered--" Byronard stopped in his tracks, as he seemingly revealed too much information.


    "Discovered...what?" Coraline asked. Byronard hesitantly looked at Michael, who nodded in response. "They''re in too deep now, captain. They deserve the right to know." He responded.


    The regent then scanned the room to ensure no one except for them was present, then a serious look befell his eyes. "Swear to the Divines that you will not share a word of what you hear moving forward." All of them looked at each other and silently swore an oath before the crown regent.


    "Uriel...he discovered that the magic that lingered in Rosetown--it shares the same properties of Dante. The rebel leader of the Civil War." Byronard delivered the news to the shock of everyone. "That''s impossible," Khandem said as he stood, stunned at the revelation. "It''s true, old friend. I, out of all people, would recognize the malicious magic of that kingslayer anywhere." The regent replied.


    "If he''s planning to make a return, now would be the most opportune time. The frost drakes stirring trouble, the disappearance of House Polifio--it would be too good of a coincidence if these events started between such short intervals. The Great Houses believe we''re escalating to an all-out war. Not just with Dante, but possibly against his kind as well. That murderer was no human, I could tell by how he moved. He managed to kill Alaric, who was by far, the greatest prodigy Primera had ever seen. Even at his young age, he had the potential to surpass even me. Were it not for his death, he''d done so already." They could hear that Byronard''s words held a tinge of bitter sadness and regret. The royal guard truly did love and respect his king.


    "Hold on--what do you mean, his kind?" Cassian asked in a panicked state. "My father fought for the rebels, and he always mentioned that Dante was a different beast altogether, akin to a demon. Are you saying that there''s an entire army that is as terrifying as he is?"


    "Not just an army, we''ve come to a presumption that the man belongs to a different race altogether. One that shares a similar structure with us mortals." Michael said. "Uriel also found traces of other lifeforms apart from Dante whose magic lingered in Rosetown. They shared the same magical constitution as he did. As you can tell if one of his kind was able to turn Primera upside down and kill one of its greatest warriors, imagine what an entire race would do. It would mean the end of the world." He explained with a grim look on his face.


    "Which is why we need to stand united. Not just Primerans, but all who are on the side of life. Elves, abussonians, dwarves, along with other kingdoms. We''ve never seen eye to eye with other foreign lands, but they know the story of the Civil War well enough. Word about Rosetown''s disappearance might have even reached their realms already." Byronard explained. "We''re playing a dangerous game here, and Azane''s unification and help is one of the pivotal pieces. I know it''s a gamble, but we''re at war. And we need every help we can get."


    Xhiamas anxiously paced the room. The man had multiple thoughts racing in his mind, on whether the idea of a united Azane would even be possible. He knew it was a bold, yet dangerous move. Sending Godric was a risk; one that could either divide the nation further or finally bring the peace that his homeland desperately needed, and neither of the two would guarantee the young man''s safety.


    "If I may..." Ziyad rose from his prayers, seemingly invigorated with a newfound energy. "I think this is an opportunity that we never may come across again." He said as Xhiamas approached his brother and grabbed the collar of his clothing. "Do not start your fanatical nonsense here, Ziyad." His grip tightened with each passing second. "Xhiamas! Let''s hear him out!" Wyatt and company pleaded with their friend.


    "Brother--" Ziyad now had trouble speaking due to the vicelike grip his brother had on him, at this time he was nearly out of breath. "I know we had our differences..b-but believe me..we share the same goal--a united Azane..for..for our people!" He struggled to get the words out.


    "Through senseless bloodshed?!" Xhiamas screamed. The mysterious, calm, and collected demeanor of the Arrow had now disappeared as he somehow turned into a different person altogether. "You try my patience, Ziyad. Choose your next words carefully."


    "I know we have different approaches...but perhaps we can find a compromise--" The foreigner was gasping for air. "Think! For millennia, we waited for the one who could unite Azane.. this boy! He could be the key! If we can convince the tribes to unite under the premise of impending war--that vision...the vision that we both grew up together..we could achieve that!"


    "Xhiamas, let him go! You''re killing him!" Wyatt and Cassian now approached him in an attempt to loosen his hold. With an angry grunt, Xhiamas finally let go as his brother crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. Coraline rushed to his side to check if he was okay. "I''ll live...I have been through worse." Ziyad said to Coraline. "You have never crossed me yet," Xhiamas replied. "Be glad that they were here."


    Ziyad looked at his saviors and offered a sincere look of gratitude. "My greatest thanks to you all," he said as he was helped up to his feet. "My brother and I rarely see eye-to-eye, and I seem to bring out his worst. Apologies if you had to see our little..family squabble."


    Xhiamas looked at Byronard, who could do nothing but look back at him with empty eyes. "I know I''m asking for too much, Xhiamas. But we need all the help we can get. Godric also needs someone to look after him while he''s there. I''ve only been to Azane twice in my youth, and I''d be a fool to think I''d make it out alive myself. Besides, my place is here. You are the only person who I trust enough to guide him at this point. The decision is up to you." Byronard pleaded with him. The regent knew he had already crossed a line but knew that he had already run out of options. The others could hear the weariness in his voice. Byronard understood that he was at the mercy of Xhiamas'' decision.


    "Very well," Xhiamas said to Byronard''s relief. "I will help him to the best that I can. But I cannot guarantee his safety once we are there."


    "Understood. Godric, it''d be best if you prepare yourself for the journey, my boy. You''ll be gone for some time. Things might be different once you return, that is, if you can." Byronard said. "I won''t let you down, Sir Byronard--that, I can promise you."


    "Huh. How''d I wish I''d met you sooner, lad. You would have been a fine Royal Guard." Byronard replied. "May the Divines bless your travels."


    Coraline rushed in as soon as Byronard wished Godric safe travels. "Wait!" She said. "I want to help too!" Her voice was quivering, but no one could deny her bravery. "I applaud your courage, my lady, but neither the north nor Azane is a place for you," Michael said to the heir of House Applewood. "But I simply can''t stand here while everyone is doing their part!" She replied.


    "Which is why, dear one, I''ll be sending you back to the South," Byronard said. "The Seven and I have been thinking, along with the heads of the other great houses, that another should take hold of the reigns whilst Lord Mikhael is gone. And we''ve all collectively decided that House Applewood would be bestowed that honor." Coraline was taken aback by the news. "M-my lord! Surely you jest! I mean no disrespect, it is an honor--but what about House Dewblossom?" Coraline asked him, still dumbfounded.


    "Lord Isaiah is in no condition to lead. We''ve received word that his conditioning is worsening. We''ve already sent doctors to look after him, but they''ve told us that the chances of him surviving are slim. Lord Caine is still under trial, and his siblings have yet to come of age. Only your House has proven to be worthy of having a member hold the mantle of Warden, specifically, you." Byronard explained.


    "By the power vested in me by the crown, and with all the witnesses who stand here before us today, I hereby name you Lady Coraline Applewood, Wardeness of the South. I''m sure you''ll make us proud, my lady." Coraline stood, dumbfounded as the others gave her a round of applause. She lay frozen in place but managed to gain her bearings after Wyatt called her attention.


    "I-I won''t let you down, my lord. I swear it!" She said as her eyes glistened with conviction.


    "I think that settles it then," Byronard said. "I''ll take my leave now. In two days the expedition north will commence. Wyatt, Cassian, you can meet with Uriel or Khandem to discuss any plans you have in store." He continued as he turned to Godric and Xhiamas. "Godric, it would be best for you to journey east with Xhiamas on the same day as they will depart. Giving you time to prepare is the least that I could do. Lady Coraline, you are free to head back whenever you would like. News regarding your promotion would have already reached the South by now. Gabby looked into that matter immediately. This meeting is adjourned. You are all dismissed." Michael pounded his hand onto the stone table twice to signal the end, and everyone dispersed into their separate groups, with Godric accompanying Coraline, Wyatt, and Cassian, whilst Khandem, Byronard, and Michael went deeper into the Keep.


    Xhiamas walked out alone but was stopped in his tracks as Ziyad held his wrist tight. "What now, Ziyad?" He asked.


    "Brother, I know we had our differences, but you know that I never lie when it comes to matters concerning Azane. I was serious when I said the boy could solve this...concern of ours. On my honor as a shadow-walker, I swear my words were true." Ziyad replied. "Let me join you. Let me aid you in protecting the boy and help convince the others."


    "Honor is a hard thing to come by these days, Ziyad," Xhiamas said as he stared daggers into his brother''s eyes. "Very well. You may join us. But I warn you--make a move against the boy, and I will kill you where you stand." Xhiamas threatened him. "I wouldn''t have it any other way." The shadow-walker replied as he let go of Xhiamas, who left his brother all alone in the council chamber, as his heavy, conflicted steps echoed throughout the marbled hallway, filling the keep with an air of anger.

 Ch. 25 -- The Search For Treasure

    It was a pleasing day as the cool, winter air breezed through the freshly fallen snow-covered streets of the Capital City. King Ithilien, flanked by Faelar, walked through the cobblestone paths as he admired the weather and buildings that contained the huddled masses, who sought the embrace of their hearths or the company of others under the influence of alcohol and warm food.


    "My King, might I ask what we are searching for in these streets?" Faelar asked him, curious about his liege''s interests. "A gift, Faelar. I had promised my daughter I would bring something of value, and I intend not to disappoint her." Ithilien replied as he continued his search. I must not waste this opportunity, Ithilien thought as the Ranger-General studied his king''s expression. "I see. I will lend my aid then. Please excuse me, I''ll scout ahead." Without another word, an invigorated Faelar ran past the king and immediately looked for any living soul that sold valuables that could be a worthy gift for a princess.


    "Faelar, wait-" he reached out, but Ithilien''s words faded away as the Ranger-General of Mistveil Forest had already immersed himself, and was already out of earshot. "Always eager to please." The king sighed as he let out a smile and continued to stroll past the streets, and admire the crystal clear snowflakes which fell from the sky. Citadel children who were creating figures out of masses of snow stopped in their tracks after they caught a glimpse of the elven king, clothed in his bright, silver clothing. Ithilien decided to stop and make their day brighter. With a flick of his hand, the lumps of snow transformed into castles and miniature figurines. Gasps of awe and cheers rang out from their mouths as their eyes glistened with joy at the sight of elven magic. The spectacle warmed the king''s heart as he sat down in the snow alongside a few children. He entertained them with the wonders of the woodland realm, stories of creatures big and small, and tales of great warriors he knew or fought with.


    "Wow! How old are you, mister?" A child exclaimed. "How are you able to do that?" A girl sat beside him asked as well after seeing the magical snowmen. "Why do your ears look funny? And why are your eyes silver?" Another chimed in to Ithilien''s delight. "Behave young ones! I can only handle such energy at a time." Such spirited souls, Ithilien thought. He laughed along with the children as he cast another illusory spell. Meanwhile, two hooded figures approached the group.


    "Off you go now, young ones. We have some matters to discuss with the king." One of them said. "You''re a king?" The children gasped in awe as they then clung to Ithilien. "No! We like having him around. Look at what he made for us!" They all pointed at the miniature figurines that came to life and waddled around in the cold, stone ground. "We''re not afraid of you, you know!" A child in front shouted.


    The two hooded figures stood in silence. "It would be better if you removed your hoods, good sir, and of course, my lady. They seem to be ready to defend me." Ithilien said to the two as a brief silence followed, interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from one of the strangers.


    "I''m sorry--I couldn''t hold it in." One of them said as the hooded figure lifted his veil to reveal none other than Chamuel, the Peacekeeper. "Apologies, sister. The child reminded me so much of myself back then. It''s admirable. You have a bright future, young one. So pure, so brave. Faced even with the unknown you stood undeterred. You''d make a fine member of the royal guard." He said as the children''s eyes shined after they saw a member of the Seven.


    "Lord Chamuel!" They excitedly called out his name. "We didn''t know it was you!"


    "Apologies, King Ithilien," the other one said as they removed their hood to reveal raven-black hair whose color contrasted the white snow. Ithilien recognized her immediately as Azrael, the Vassal of Death. "We were only having fun. Guard duty is quite tiresome. Spending the winter huddled up in stone walls saps the life out of you, so we decided to roam the city for a change. It''s beautiful down here." Azrael said as she inserted her hands into the customized pockets of her ivory-colored armor. "Quite cold too, if I''m being honest."


    "Lady Azrael as well! Two members of the Seven are here!" One of the children exclaimed to the excitement of his peers.


    "May we have a word with you over some food, your Majesty?" Azrael asked. "Of course. Run along now, young ones. Do not worry, the miniatures will last until winter''s end. Take care of them for me, will you?" Ithilien requested the children, who agreed without hesitation. "You can count on us, sir--your Majesty! Do come back!" The boy said to Ithilien. The two royal guards waved goodbye to the group and left the scene. Ithilien followed suit, but was stopped in his tracks as he felt a presence behind him. "Wait! Before you go, please, take this--as a reminder of your promise." A girl suddenly approached the king as she handed Ithilien a simple wooden carving of a dove, fashioned as a necklace. "Dear child, I couldn''t," Ithilien replied, but the child''s eyes had a spark of innocence and sincerity, which reminded him of his daughter. "All right, if you insist." He said as he accepted the gift with a smile. The child seemingly wandered off into a corner and the king left and caught up with the siblings.


    The three walked into the city''s market which held an annual food festival that surprisingly, remained active despite the cold weather. Ithilien was surprised to see that the vendors and people were unaffected by the climate and even offered a variety of hot meals such as soup or meats to warm the stomach. Azrael directed them to sit at an unoccupied table for four as she searched for something for them to eat.


    "Such freedom and joy," the king said as he and Chamuel observed the gathered friends and families. "I envy your kind. In my kingdom, they only view our family as royalty, and never as equals. Despite belonging to the same race, there is an indescribable gap that separates me and my people. Earlier, the children never saw me as anything other than a friend." The king continued as Azrael returned with a platter of warm food and beverages to wash them down.


    "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of speaking with two members of the Seven?" Ithilien asked as Azrael handed him hot soup to stave off the cold. "The pleasure is all ours, your Majesty. We simply thought that as your new guardians, it would be best to get to know our you a bit more since we''ve only ever heard of you from tales and history books." Azrael said.


    "Guardians?" Ithilien replied, surprised at the news.


    "Yes, it sounds stupid, I know. But the captain insisted that members of the Seven would be assigned to a monarch of one of the allied kingdoms. Given the unpredictable state Primera is in, we were tasked to observe and protect you from any potential threats. Uriel is leading the expedition north to the dwarves. Once he finds Lord Rykard and brings him here to the Capital, Uriel will immediately head back to the dwarves and stay for the time being as a bodyguard for Lords Sindras and Vargas." Azrael explained while Chamuel consumed a large portion of meat with ease.


    "I see. His reasoning is understandable given the circumstances. I suppose the Ranger-General would enjoy the added company of two royal guards," Ithilien said as he slowly ate portions of the soup. "Well, you wanted to know more about me. Where should we start?"


    And so as they drank and ate their fill, the king answered their questions and sated any curiosities they had. It did not take long before the Ranger-General returned, empty-handed.


    "My apologies, your Majesty, but I was not able to--oh, I was not expecting company," Faelar said after seeing Chamuel and Azrael eating lunch with the elven king. "Ah, Faelar. Sit down and eat your share. Azrael here bought plenty for us four. They are my new bodyguards." Ithilien said. "Bodyguards?" Faelar replied with a tinge of disbelief, seemingly offended as well by the notion. "We mean no offense, Ranger-General, I''m sure you''re capable enough to protect your king, but it was a direct order from the regent himself," Chamuel said, attempting to quell the elf''s apparent disdain.


    Faelar sat down beside his king. "Very well then, if His Majesty vouches for you, and if you had no control over the decision, then I might as well accept it," He said. "Apologies for my earlier behavior. I rarely leave the elven kingdom due to my duties, so diplomacy is not my strongest suit."


    "No need to apologize. In truth, we feel slightly overwhelmed being your bodyguards." Azrael said. "Don''t get us wrong, it is a great honor, but it is quite intimidating to watch over a king who has lived countless human lifetimes, and is also considered to be one of the best swordsmen and mana users in history. I fear our work may already be cut out for us." She continued.


    "You flatter me too much, young one. All these years of peace I fear may have nulled my instincts. I welcome any aid that the Capital can offer us." Ithilien replied.


    "We also asked for troops of our own, similar to Uriel, but Sir Byronard immediately turned down the request. I can''t blame him though. The guards are small in number compared to the manpower of each Great House. With Uriel being given command of over one-sixth of the Royal Guard to bolster the North''s defenses, along with three royal guards to accompany each head of a Great House, I''d say the ones who weren''t pulled were tasked to fortify this place. Him saying that that two of us were enough to accompany you...did help in the process of getting over being rejected." Chamuel said.


    The four of them continued to finish their meals and left the city market, satisfied. "If I may, your Majesty, the other lords and ladies have started to prepare for their journey back to their lands. Why is it that you''ve found yourself here in the city streets?" Azrael asked the elven king.


    "I am in search of a gift. A memento that my daughter would appreciate. I promised here before I left with Godric and Faelar that I would bring something from the Capital." Ithilien said as he glanced at a corner and saw trinkets and ornaments being sold. There was a look of sadness on his face.


    "My poor Anar¨®r?. I blame myself for her situation. She has never been outside of our borders before. Her duty as a princess limits her from doing so. I was already aware that she joined the scouts in an attempt to travel outside our lands, but all she could ever do was glimpse the outside world as she patrolled the border. Like a bird trapped in a cage, she exists only to be locked inside, so close to freedom, and yet so far." Azrael and Chamuel looked at each other and agreed that felt like they had heard something private.


    "I see...if it pleases you, your Majesty, we could help look for a gift," Chamuel said as Ithilien let out a smile. "Yes, I would appreciate that. Thank you." Azrael paused for a moment as if a thought had crossed her mind. "What is it?" Faelar asked.


    "I think I have a few ideas on what to give. Follow me." Azrael said. Without a second thought, all three of them followed her steps. Several minutes later, they found themselves on the other side of the city, where the structures looked older than the ones they were in before. Ithilien and Faelar also noticed that the people who were there also wore different clothing from the ones that they encountered. Ragged, dark clothing, and accompanied with either a hood or scarf.


    Faelar cautiously looked around and observed the stark difference between the city market and the ones that surrounded them. "What is this place?" He asked. "This is the Pallenia Quarter. It is named after the town that stood here during the time King Unrel decided to build the Keep that we see above." Azrael said as she pointed to Wolfsbane Keep, which towered over them up above the inland cliff. Faelar spotted several people in some corners whose eyes were focused on the elven king. "I have a bad feeling about this," Faelar said as he hovered his hand on his dagger concealed on his hip as a few of them slowly approached their direction.


    "Calm down, Faelar. These people mean no harm." Ithilien stayed the Ranger-General''s hand as a veiled elderly woman stopped in front of Azrael and Chamuel. "Oho...what brings you here?" She asked in a frail voice. "Hello, Mother Willow. It''s been a long time." Azrael replied as she took the elderly woman''s hand and planted a kiss on an emerald ring. Chamuel followed after her and stepped back. "It''s nice to see you again, Mother Willow." He said as he turned to Ithilien and Faelar.


    "Your Majesty, Faelar. This is Mother Willow; The headmistress of the Pallenia Orphanage and the leader of this part of the Capital." Azrael introduced the old woman, whose features were covered by a black veil. "So, this is King Ithilien, the ruler of Mistveil Forest? I''ve heard great tales about you. A pleasure to finally meet you in person. I knew that the monarchs were in the Capital, but in all my years, even now as I am nearing my end, I never expected to meet you here in all places." Mother Willow said.


    "The pleasure is all mine, Mother Willow. I am sorry if I came unannounced, but Azrael said she could help us with something important, so we followed her here." Ithilien said to the woman, who sounded perplexed. "Oh? And what could that be?" She replied.


    Azrael and Chamuel then explained the situation to the frail lady as concisely as they could, to which Mother Willow responded with a chuckle. "I see...well then, it would be my honor to bestow a gift to the elven princess. Come, we have much to do. Blaine? Would you come over here, dear?" She called out to someone in the crowd. A scarfed man then rushed to their location. "Blaine! How are you, these days?" Chamuel asked as they exchanged hugs. "As usual, still alive. Nice to see the two of you in good shape." Blaine responded as Mother Willow pinched his arm, causing Blaine to cry out in pain. "Now, now. We have guests to attend to. Please tell the priests to gather at the Strudstine." Mother Willow said as she let go of her vice-like grip. "Yes, Mother Willow. I''ll see you later, guys." Blaine said as he disappeared into the crowd.


    "May I ask what this...Strudstine is?" Ithilien asked Mother Willow. "The Strudstine, your Majesty, is a small chapel specializing in channeling a unique form of magic. When people born in the Pallania Quarter die, we store their memories in a marked object that is sealed inside the chapel. I intend to perform a ritual and allow your daughter to look into such memories. " Mother Willow explained.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "But that sounds dangerous, does it not?" Faelar asked. "Oh yes, very dangerous. Tampering with the mind is an extremely delicate and complicated task. However, my magic helps me work around this danger. You see, I specialize in transferring anything from one vessel to another and the other way around. It could be memories, emotions, even the soul itself, which holds the very essence of one''s magic." Mother Willow replied. "Astounding. But surely this takes a toll on your body?" Ithilien asked, concerned for the mortal''s wellbeing. "Yes, it does. Each time I do it I feel a sliver of my life being sapped by the second. However, for some reason, the Divines have always granted me the strength to live. Each day is a blessing in itself. The reason why I called for the priests, is so that if ever my body decides to give up, I can then be given my last rites for I''ve lived far too long already." Mother Willow explained as Ithilien and Faelar looked at her, dumbfounded at the revelation.


    "You cannot be serious. That is reckless!" Faelar cried out. "How long have you been doing this?" He asked. "Oh, about eighty years or so. I started young, you see. After I discovered my unique talent, I spent the rest of my days mastering my craft. It was a struggle, I won''t lie." She then turned to the orphans that were huddled in the crowd. "But my talents proved useful as I was able to look into the minds of these young ones and understand their view of the world. Years of heartbreak and sadness have filled my heart, and their nightmares find themselves sneaking into my dreams. Despite all that, I still find joy in seeing a broken soul become whole again." Mother Willow said. Her words resonated with the elven king, whose immortality had deemed him to be cursed to witness an eternity of countless deaths and sacrifices.


    "You are a genuine spirit with a heart of gold, Mother Willow. I have no words to express my immense respect for what you have done for these children. If more people like you existed, this world would be a better place." Ithilien said as he gently took the elderly woman''s hand and planted a kiss on her ring, a sign of acknowledgment. "And what about you two? What are your thoughts about her actions?" The elven king asked Azrael and Chamuel, who stood in silence the entire time.


    "We owe her everything, your Majesty. We were abandoned at a young age, forced to fend for ourselves, scraping for every little piece of food we could find in the wild. Mother Willow took us in and changed our lives forever. A thousand lifetimes would never be enough to repay what she has done to build us into who we are now." Chamuel said as he put his arm over the elderly woman, giving her a gentle hug.


    "And yes...we know about the dangers that Mother Willow encounters when performing the ritual. But we are in no position to force her into not attempting it. She devoted herself willingly to this life, the same as us royal guards. If she dies doing her duty, then it would bring her nothing but honor as she passes into the loving embrace of the Mother." Azrael said. Ithilien and Faelar were bewildered and yet, impressed at the words uttered and beliefs that their human allies possessed. It was completely against their notions of eternity and stability.


    Mother Willow let out a laugh. "What seems to be funny?" Azrael asked. "Oh, nothing. I just feel like your Majesty and his friend seem to be taken aback by my approach to dealing with life. Mortals only live once, so it might be best to make the most out of it while we can." Mother Willow replied. "I''ll be leaving you for the meantime. I have to prepare for the ritual. It might take a while so please, feel free to look around first. Blaine will fetch you once we are ready." Mother Willow said as she left the scene.


    "Humans are such curious creatures, are they not, Faelar?" Ithilien asked, impressed at the old woman''s commitment. "Yes, they are indeed, your Majesty," Faelar replied. "Well then, since they''re preparing for the ritual, why don''t we take you on a tour around the Orphanage?" Chamuel asked the two elves, who accepted the offer with no hesitation.


    The orphanage was found deeper in the quarter. It was separated from the other buildings as it was found in the center of a miniature forest, surrounded by snow-covered trees, flowers, and a cobblestone fountain whose waters had frozen solid from the cold. They entered the structure to reveal a well-designed wooden interior. The feeling of warmth embraced them as they entered, where they were met by children and people of different ages. Brief introductions were made, and the inhabitants left the four to themselves.


    "This is where we grew up," Azrael said as she touched a wooden beam. "This place brings back memories," she sighed. "Ever since we were selected for the Guard, we would always find time to sneak into the Pallania Quarter and spend time with our new family. But once we were promoted to become members of the Seven, it became impossible to even step into the quarter, let alone enter the orphanage. Chamuel buried himself with diplomatic affairs, while I was assigned to investigate crimes across the land." She continued as they walked up the second floor of the building.


    "It must have been hard for you two, being separated from your brother and this place?" Faelar asked as they continued their tour. "Words cannot describe. But over time, we were able to manage. Being a soldier and experiencing reality at a young age does that to you." Chamuel responded. "Our duties bring us to indescribable places, far more beautiful than this old place, but we will always consider this our home." He said. Soon after, the doors from the entrance swung open and a voice rang out.


    "Azrael? Chamuel? Are you here?" Blaine called out. "We''re here. Are they ready for us?" Chamuel replied while Blaine responded with a quiet nod. "They''re waiting for you in the chapel. Let''s go."


    The chapel was small but upon closer inspection, was older than the already ancient architecture that surrounded it. Ithilien and the group were met by a small group of priests dressed in old, linen robes. "King Ithilien. It is an honor to meet you. Mother Willow is waiting inside." One of them said to the elven king. "Please, follow me." The man continued as he guided the group inside.


    The interior was beautifully designed and was enough to host at least two dozen people. At the end of the building stood five shrines; decorated with golden statues of each member of the Divines, which was the faith that Primeran mortals believed in. First stood the Warrior, the symbol of strength and patron of soldiers and fathers. Next was the Smith, the icon of ingenuity and hard work that all artists and craftsmen prayed to. At the center was the Mother, the preserver of life and all things beautiful. Following them was the Gambler, the symbol of luck for thieves and mercenaries. And at the very last pedestal, covered in shadows, was the statue of the Stranger, the symbol of wanderlust and protector of adventurers, vagabonds, and lost souls. Ithilien sat down and took a moment to study the symbols of religion before him. It piqued his interest. Being a member of the firstborn, he experienced the privilege of seeing the conception of the world, back when the old gods still ruled over the lands and seas. How were these mortals able to conceptualize such beings? Do these gods even exist? Such thoughts plagued the elven king''s mind before he was snapped back to reality.


    "Your Majesty, Mother Willow is ready for you," Azrael said to the king as they approached the old woman, who knelt in front of two intricately designed boxes; with one being empty, while the other housed a glossy marble. Despite its shine and smoothness, Ithilien was unable to see any reflection whatsoever, as if a transparent wall had existed that played with one''s vision.


    "Am I correct to assume that this is the marked object?" The king asked Mother Willow, who replied with a nod. "A peculiar thing, isn''t it? Its true name has been lost to the ages, along with the first residents of Pallenia, but nowadays we call it the Strudstine Marble. This small thing here houses every memory of every Pallenian that has ever lived," she said as she delicately picked up the marble with her old, frail hands. "Despite my age and numerous experiences with this one, it never ceases to amaze me." Mother Willow then put the object back into the box.


    "How does the ritual work?" Faelar asked as the priests slowly gathered around the headmistress and knelt before the sculpture of the Mother.


    "Mother Willow can look into the true essence of things and transfer them from one vessel to another. She''ll enter and walk through all the memories stored in the marble." Azrael explained. "We know that Primera was a cruel land, and not all memories found inside are good, so she''ll be careful to choose only the beautiful ones. Memories of festivals, celebrations, experiencing new things, seeing new sights--those are the ones she''ll mainly look for." Mother Willow chuckled. "How nice of you to explain how it works, child. Now, I forgot to mention that we need a vessel with which I can transfer the memories. I''m sorry, meeting the king caught me off guard that in my haste, I forgot to mention the most important thing for the ritual." She said as Faelar let out a sigh. "Well, that complicates things, doesn''t it?" He said as he paced around the chapel.


    Ithilien stopped to think of a solution but felt a hard object as he grasped his hip. He looked and to his amusement, found the wooden necklace that one of the children gave him. Ithilien approached Mother Willow with the untied necklace and presented it to her. "Would this suffice?" He asked. "Oh! This would be more than enough. I see that Clementine made a new friend." She replied. "What a lovely name. I will have to give my thanks to her if I ever get the chance again." Mother Willow chuckled at the king''s response.


    "Did I say something funny?" Ithilien asked her. "Oh not at all, your Majesty. I simply thought that she would never be able to find someone she could confide in again. But, I do think that finding her again might be somewhat difficult." The king looked at her with a confused expression, meanwhile Mother Willow smiled at him before she sat down to begin the ritual.


    "I''ll be starting now. I swear to provide your daughter with the best present possible. I''ll also try not to die in the process." She quipped. "That''s not funny," Chamuel replied with an annoyed tone. "Oh hush now, child. You know I was joking." The old lady then placed the necklace on the empty box and hovered one hand over it, while the other hovered over the marble. She then chanted in a language unfamiliar to the people who were in the room, and her eyes then turned pale as her body froze in place. The priests began to chant the same words that Mother Willow spoke, and they too, followed in her steps.


    "What now?" Faelar asked as he stood on guard, somewhat anxious by what he had witnessed. "Now...we wait," Azrael said. "This might take a while, so let''s try and make ourselves comfortable..if we can." The chapel hummed with an intense sensation of mana that emanated from Mother Willow, who was as still as a statue. The king sat down and waited, but an unsettling feeling resided deep within him as the minutes passed.


    <hr>


    Nearly thirty minutes into the ritual, and a change was observed. The chants grew into shrieks, prompting Faelar to instinctively jump to a defensive stance, but was stopped by Azrael. "This is the most important part. Do not disturb her by any means." Her eyes were as sharp as a scythe''s edge, and her words seeped into the Ranger-General''s body, chilling his very core. "Understood." Faelar stayed his blade, surprised at the sudden bloodlust that seeped from the royal guard. Shrieks began to fill the room as the old woman began to rapidly convulse. The priests snapped out of their trance and began to utter a prayer. Chamuel and Azrael stood silent, undeterred by the events, as the elven king and Ranger-General looked disturbed. An intense burst of air then exploded from the marked object as Mother Willow collapsed, unconscious and drained from the process.


    The royal guards rushed to her aid and removed the veil that covered her features, revealing streaks of a sickly, green color that ran down her neck. Ithilien approached her and cautiously held her hand. "She still lives." He breathed a sigh of relief. To repay her efforts, Ithilien drew magic from within and breathed new life in her which woke the old lady from her slumber. Slowly, Chamuel helped her sit down in a nearby pew as the king grabbed the wooden necklace and held it in his palm. It pulsated with a newfound energy, which was evidence that the ritual was a success. He stared deep into the carving''s eyes, and true enough, the king was shown glimpses of cherished memories, and a feeling of happiness that he had long forgotten consumed his heart.


    "Words cannot describe my gratitude to you, Mother Willow." The king said. "No..no..you have it all wrong, dear. I almost died back there. Had you not been here to heal my body, I would have passed on already." She replied in a weak voice. "I have done what I can. I''ve gone through every memory of each person, and have stored each treasured moment in there. I am sure this is a gift worthy of a princess of Mistveil." The priests then gathered around her, led by Blaine as they helped the old lady to her feet. "Mother Willow needs to rest now, your Majesty. We''ll have to take her back to the Orphanage." Ithilien responded with an acknowledging nod. "Oh, your Majesty--" Mother Willow called out as she was being escorted. "Tell your daughter that she is always welcome here." Again, Ithilien pondered about her words. They were genuine, yet all the while mysterious in nature.


    Azrael approached the two elves after saying goodbye to Blaine. "Your Majesty, you now have something to bring home. Where should we go next?" Ithilien stood in silence as he stared at the wooden necklace in his palm. "Let us find Godric," he said. "I wish to say a few words before we depart." The king stepped outside the chapel, greeted by the snow and cold weather as the Ranger-General and the siblings watched over him from behind. All seemed to be in good order in their eyes, but deep down inside him, Ithilien felt something tragic was looming over the horizon, something that even he, with all his power and influence, could have a very slim chance of stopping by his lonesome.

 Ch. 26 -- Until We Meet Again

    Godric was startled at the sound of knocking on the door as he barely got enough rest the night before. Deep in his mind, he thought there was a gaping void that he couldn''t describe, which made him feel uneasy, stopping him from getting sleep. He briefly looked outside the window and noticed that it was already late in the morning. The door swung open as Michael entered the room, strapped in his sleek, custom-made white armor worn only by the Seven, while the impressive great sword, Fortitude, was slung onto his back. His being here only meant that the time had finally arrived. "Get dressed," Michael said. "Sir Byronard and the others are waiting for you at the gates." The royal guard silently left the room, leaving Godric to his lonesome. Two days go by so fast, he thought, and only now did the feeling of anxiety creep into his body.


    "Looks like you barely slept, Uhrihim." A voice said to him. He glanced to the corner, where Ziyad emerged from the shadows. "You again," Godric said. "How long have you been watching me?" The young man asked him as he got up from the bed. "Long enough to know that you''re nervous." The young man looked at his hand and noticed it was trembling. "But that''s a good thing." Ziyad continued. "And how is that a good thing?" Godric asked. "Because it means that you''re not stupid. Most people your age find themselves embracing danger head-on or venture off to distant lands, only to end up dying. Do you know what they all had in common?" The boy shook his head. "Overconfidence. At least you''re smart enough to embrace the idea that you''ll most likely die. But, fear not, for I have sworn to my brother to watch over you alongside him. With the two of us, we have a fighting chance of accomplishing your monstrous task." Ziyad said as he scanned the bookshelf, looking for something to read.


    Godric donned his armor and strapped Death''s Lament onto his back as Ziyad flipped a few pages of a book that interested him. Since he appeared in the Capital, Godric could feel the foreigner''s eyes watching his every move. "Tell me, Ziyad. Whatever happened with you and Xhiamas? It seems as though he turns into a completely different person altogether whenever you''re around." Ziyad''s gaze was focused solely on the book, in an attempt to avoid conversation. "It is a long story. Let''s say we had different opinions on certain matters, and my brother eventually grew tired of it all and left the family." Godric had almost forgotten that Ziyad was a member of the three major clans, which meant that Xhiamas had royalty in his blood, but he hid it incredibly well. "In mannerisms and beliefs, you are both strikingly opposites as well. I thought you both grew up in the same home?" He asked Ziyad, who closed the book.


    The question piqued the man''s interest. "Ahh...yes. That is a trait I found laughable as well. Because he is the eldest child, he was trained and raised to become the next head of the Dhilal al-Qadar. You see, he wields greatness; a power unique to our family and can only be bestowed to a member once every hundred years. Traditionally, anyone can fight for the right to become a leader but after inheriting such a valued gift, his ascension to leadership was set in stone and went uncontested among our kinsmen. There''s more to the story, but we can save it for another day. Now, shall we go?" His words hinted toward Xhiamas'' ability of foresight. Godric wanted to know more but obliged the foreigner''s request as he and Ziyad left the room, closing the door.


    The two found themselves at one of the gates of the Capital, where Wyatt and the rest were waiting for Godric. Alongside them, were at least three dozen members of the royal guard on horseback, all geared in armor, tailor-made for the unforgiving conditions in the snowy climates of the North. Wyatt and Cassian too, were given new armor which suited them perfectly. Ziyad retreated to a far corner, giving Godric space to speak with the others. "Now that''s fancy armor right there," Godric said to Wyatt and Cassian as they greeted each other. "It suits you both. Try not to die while you two are up there, eh?" Wyatt and Cassian laughed at the statement. "Look at us three. Months ago we were farm hands, smithies, nurses. We were exiles, scattered like leaves toward the unknown world, and here we stand now, redeemed." Wyatt said. "If Hawk were here, we''d be unstoppable." The mood turned somewhat bittersweet, but Cassian immediately cheered him up. "Now don''t go and sour the moment, Wyatt. I''m sure he''s out there, somewhere. Besides, he has a talent for finding things, remember? I''m sure he''ll wash up in Stagvalley or the Capital." Wyatt responded with a weak grin.


    A man on a horse rode to where they stood. It was Uriel, who was the commanding officer for the expedition. "Khandem says that the weather is picking up soon, so we have a few more minutes before we ride off. If you have any more words left to tell each other, now would be the best time." Uriel said as he headed to back to the caravan that housed their needed supplies for the travel, barking commands at his brothers-at-arms. "Well...I guess this is goodbye for now. May the Divines bless your journey and guide you safely back home, Godric." Wyatt said. "Same to you, old friend. Watch over him for me, Cassian, will you?" Godric jested. "Are you joking? Hawk and I were barely able to stop him one time. This man is a beast, I tell you." Cassian replied to Godric''s amusement. "Of course he is. The Blackwood blood runs strong in his veins. May the Divines guide you all home." Godric said. After a brief exchange of hugs, Wyatt and Cassian joined the cavalry, seamlessly blending into the ranks as Godric waved them farewell, eager to see them again.


    Uriel looked to the gatekeeper up above the city walls and with a wave of his hand, then signaled that the gates be opened. Loud horns blared over the city, alerting the citizens and the others of the departure. Once they had fully opened, the troops departed immediately, escorting the dwarven emissary back to the dwarven capital. It did not take long before the silver figures became merely white dots in the distance, disappearing.


    "You made it just in time to see them off." Godric turned to see Byronard being flanked by Michael. "Ah, Sir Byronard. Yes, we managed to put a few words in before saying goodbye. I have Michael to thank for that." Michael looked at Godric but seemed troubled. "You''re welcome. But Godric, I can see it in your eyes that you barely got enough sleep these past few days. It''d be best to take small breaks to gather your strength and wits. We still have a long road ahead of us." He said. "I know, I''m trying to--wait, what do you mean by us?" Godric asked.


    Byronard sighed. "Despite my protests, Michael here has persistently requested to join your journey to Azane," Byronard revealed to Godric. "I initially wanted him stationed here, being in charge of the defenses and look for any brewing threats, but he raised a good point during one of our talks. You see, your unique form of magic, along with Ziyad and Xhiamas putting in good word for you would generally be enough to set things in motion when you begin. Well as it so happens, members of the Seven are highly respected far and wide, not just because of their status, but also because of their capabilities. With Azane being a continent where strength reigns over all, I''d say being accompanied by the leader of the Seven would make a bold statement, and make your case even more compelling." Byronard explained.


    "That''s reassuring," Godric said, relieved at the news. "Knowing you''re joining us puts my mind at ease. But what about the Capital defenses?" He asked, to which Michael replied with a grin. "Oh, that? Not to worry. Sir Byronard, Gabby, and Jophiel are still here. Any sane enemy wouldn''t dare lay siege on the Capital. Not with their presence." Michael said proudly, showcasing trust in his companions.


    "Godric," someone called out to the young man. The party turned and saw the approaching elven king Ithilien, flanked by Faelar and the sibling members of the Seven, Chamuel and Azrael. They carried rations, seemingly enough to make the trip back to Mistveil Forest. "Gentlemen, my lady, may I have a word with him in private?" The others exchanged glances but gave the two the space they needed.


    "What is it, your Majesty?" Godric asked. "I know of the task bestowed upon you, and I wish you well on your journey. But, that is not what I primarily came here for. In truth, I wanted to ask a favor." Ithilien said as he looked over his shoulder. Godric could see that the king was not his usual self. He still had a shroud of mystery, but the young man noticed something was amiss. "Is something wrong, your Majesty?" He asked, caught off guard by the king''s demeanor. "I do not know. Something has been troubling me these past few days. I cannot explain what it is, so now I find myself here, because I know you are the only one I trust for this particular task." Ithilien replied. "Watch over Anar¨®r? for me. Something ill is brewing and I fear the worst is coming soon. My senses are suddenly dulling, for reasons I know not why. Because of that, I fear my time is nearing its end, and I now entrust her safety in your hands." Godric was horrified upon hearing the revelation, and broke into a nervous laugh. "S-surely, you jest, King Ithilien." But alas, he gazed into the monarch''s eyes and saw that he spoke true.


    The young man took a step back to take in everything. "By the Divines, you''re serious." Godric anxiously said. "Your Majesty, I''m not even sure I''ll return alive from this expedition. What about Faelar? The Seven? Do they know?" He continued, but Ithilien placed his hand on the young man''s shoulder, which calmed him down. "Worry not, child. I have seen many figures in my lifetime, but no one can take up this mantle but you. You have great potential in you. Stay true to your moral compass--listen to your heart, and keep your wits about you. In time, this land will experience a drastic change, with you at the helm of it all. And no, I have not spoken a word to Faelar nor the members of the Seven. The last thing they need to know would be that my powers are waning. I must not give them any worry nor burden, so I confide this secret to you alone." Ithilien''s words lifted Godric''s spirits, which the young man was grateful for. He thanked the king for his words and bid his Majesty well wishes, albeit concerned for his safety.


    "Oh, and Godric," Ithilien called out before the young man was out of speaking distance. "I know of what happened between you and my daughter." Upon hearing the words, the mortal''s expression changed and his cheeks flustered. "Uhh--yes...about that, my king..." Godric stuttered but Ithilien responded with a cheeky laugh. "Worry not. I have no qualms about that whatsoever. You breathed new life into her--I can never thank you enough for that." He smiled as Godric wiped a sweat from his brow. "Oh...well, thank you, your Majesty. I''m honored." He replied as he breathed a sigh of relief. "Time is of the essence. Off you go now, child. May the old gods bless your journey and bring you home." Ithilien said as he called out to Faelar and the two members of the Seven. They said their final goodbyes as the two groups parted ways.


    The sound of galloping horses was immediately heard from the distance as the sounds of their powerful hooves connected with the stone steps of the streets. They turned and saw Xhiamas, ready and waiting with a group of fine-breeds for travel, each one strapped with a ration of supplies enough for a fortnight''s travel. "Seems he''s itching to go already. A sense of urgency--as expected of an Arrow." Michael said. "No... he''s eager to get this over as quickly as possible. The sooner we''re done, the faster he can get as far away from me and his past as possible." Ziyad responded with an exhausted tone. Godric looked at him, intrigued by the statement. A part of him wanted to ask, but given the animosity brewing between the two brothers, he decided to let it be.


    Xhiamas approached them on horseback and gave out a few instructions on which one would be for them, all while completely ignoring his brother, leaving him to his lonesome. "As expected." Ziyad said as he got up on his horse.


    Byronard called the group over give his final instructions before they would depart. "I presume all of you are all ready?" He asked the four individuals, who simply looked at him with determined expressions. "Good. I''ve already sent word to Lady Emilie of House Blackstone that you''ll be headed off to the port of Vandralis. By the time you arrive, a ship with her most trusted men will be waiting for you. No one knows of this expedition except the lords and ladies, the monarchs, the Seven, me, and the four of you--this should guarantee a smooth travel while you''re in Primera."


    He said as he then shifted to a more serious tone. "The fate of Primera is in your hands now. All we can do now here is prepare and wait for your return." Byronard turned to Xhiamas and Ziyad. "I know the two of you don''t see eye to eye on things, but put this sibling rivalry on hold for now. There are more important things in the world than trivial disagreements. You of all people, should understand this the most, Arrow." Xhiamas looked down as he bit his lip. Godric felt bad for him, but he agreed that the regent was right on this matter.


    "Understood." Xhiamas replied as he looked at his brother, who nodded in response. "Off you go now, and may the Divines bless your journey." Byronard wished them farewell as they slowly left the city grounds before high noon, ready and eager.


    ***


    The travel was slow at first, but as the minutes and hours went by, all of them were now racing past the King''s Road as they headed east towards the Evergleam Coast. They covered good ground as the four brushed past the trees and towns with breakneck speed as if it were their last days on earth. The company stopped every night when the sun had set to let the horses and themselves get enough rest and eat their fill; with each one given hours to take watch while the others slept; it was not a necessary action, but they all agreed on it, in the event that danger might arise from any time. A night passed by where Godric had finally noticed that whenever Ziyad would take the watch, Xhiamas would also be awake, observing him from a distance while watching for any other threats as well. The young man, given all the time he had now spent with them, could still never understand the situation between the two. Did an incident happen? Betrayal? A promise that was not kept? Such thoughts plagued his mind as he attempted to go back to sleep.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ***


    It was the dawn of the twelfth day of their journey. The company rode up on a hill, and could now see the port of Vandralis in the near distance in all its splendor. The coastal city, also being the ancient seat of House Blackstone, was a sight to behold. From its charcoal-colored watchtowers to the stone buildings and the onyx-colored stones that surrounded the castle; with its walls being greeted by the crashing of the waves. "Behold, the port of Vandralis," Michael said as they made their way to the city. The forest had now disappeared, and what greeted them was a well-paved road found near the coast, which provided a breathtaking view of the Evergleam Ocean, its waters shimmering with an unearthly beauty. Godric was at a loss for words. The young man was focused on the task at hand, that he had forgotten to take in the reality that this was the first time he was staring at the open waters.


    "It''s so...beautiful." He said. "It just...stretches on for leagues on end." Xhiamas came up next to him and patted him on the shoulder. "And we are barely looking at even a quarter of it, my friend." Godric''s expression seemed to have brightened up his morning. "I remember the first time I saw the ocean in my youth. I had the same look on your face as well. It is a remarkable place, indeed. But be warned: one should always keep his guard up, even in the face of beauty." The company now found themselves at the gates, as a flag of House Blackstone waved proudly high above a watchtower. People were going in and out of the gates, with a good number of them being foreigners. A man spotted them from above and shouted at someone below him. Minutes had passed before half a dozen soldiers clad in ink-black light armor greeted them.


    "Sir Michael! On behalf of the Nyxguard, it is truly an honor for you to grace us with your presence." One of them said, presumably the leader of the group. "Corwin! Nice to see you again. How''s the family business?" Michael replied, giving off the idea that they were acquainted. "We''re doing fine. The business has been going steady; the Smith be praised." Corwin said. Michael and the rest got off their horses who then were handled by the other soldiers. "Gentlemen, meet Corwin Steelmantle; Captain of the Nyxguard, and the heir to Steelwave Shipworks; the primary company responsible for creating Primera''s naval fleet. A pleasure to see you again, lad. Is the Lady Blackstone...?" Michael asked.


    "Yes, she''s waiting for you at the port. We finished constructing your vessel a few days ago but weren''t expecting you would arrive ahead of schedule. You might be here for a day or so before we can get the crew and ship ready for departure." Corwin said. "Follow me, I''ll escort you." They followed the soldier into the city as they passed through its busy streets. "So, Azane, eh? What business would a member of the Seven have in the Continent of Sand?" Corwin asked Michael. "A simple diplomacy mission. I''ll leave it at that." Michael replied, to which he gave Godric a wink. "Bah, you''re lying. If a member of the Seven themselves has to do a diplomacy mission, it shouldn''t be as simple as it sounds." Corwin replied as they now were before the port. "Here we are. Lady Blackstone should be on that one over there." He then pointed to a medium-sized vessel, good enough for a dozen people to pilot. "I have other duties to attend to. I wish you all the best of luck." Corwin left the company to themselves as they headed toward their ship. As they drew closer and closer, they agreed that it was masterfully crafted as the hull was sleek and smooth to the touch, with the bow boasting an elegant design.


    Godric touched the ship and noticed that it was carved from Stormsong wood; said to be effective in warding off evil spirits and bad luck as the stories go. As they boarded the vessel a few shipwrights greeted them, along with what they presumed to be the workers whom Lady Blackstone tasked for the construction, but the lady herself was nowhere to be found.


    Out of nowhere, Godric, Xhiamas, and Ziyad found themselves unable to move, as if they were bound by some invisible force. "Blessed dunes! What is this sorcery?!" Ziyad shouted as he struggled to move. "Hey, what''s going on?!" Godric shouted as he too, attempted to move with all his might. Michael was unaffected whatsoever, moved forward, and placed his hands on his hips, exasperated as he sighed.


    "This is not funny, Emilie. Stop it." He said. Soon after, the struggle stopped and the three were released from their confinements as they crashed onto the wooden deck. "Ow, that hurt! What was that anyway?" Godric asked, confused and irritated at the same time.


    "My apologies, gentlemen. I only wanted to blow off some steam," a female voice replied as the sounds of a percussion instrument rang out. "There I was, playing my lute away when suddenly, a messenger arrived saying that we should create a vessel worthy of travel to the Continent of Sand. It came from Sir Byronard himself. I couldn''t say no, but I would be lying if I said I was not annoyed." Afterward, a lady in ebony-hued clothing stepped out of the captain''s quarters. She had jet-black eyes and short brown hair paired with a slim frame. It was none other than Lady Emilie Blackstone, ruler of Vandralis. "Hello, dear cousin. I didn''t get the chance to see you at the council. How long has it been? A decade?" She asked Michael.


    "A decade and two years to be exact," Michael replied. "Hello, Emilie. Good to see your string magic has improved." The three were at a loss for words. "I''m sorry, but did you say string magic?" Godric asked Michael, to check if he had heard that correctly. "Yes. While I can manipulate and control metal, Lady Emilie can manipulate and control strings. Of course, a simple string alone can easily be broken through, but with the proper coating it can be a deadly weapon, especially under her hands." Emilie smiled as she revealed a pouch that contained a somewhat endless amount of strings. "Nyxsteel strings. The thin properties of the string itself make them near transparent, but the nyxsteel coating is nearly as durable as grimthorne ore, and as sharp as obsidian." She explained. "I could have killed you three if I wanted to, you know," Emilie recalled the strings that were now visible back into the pouch.


    "This woman is...out of her mind, to say the least." Ziyad whispered to his brother as he nudged him on the shoulder. "That would be another thing that we can agree on." Xhiamas was quick to respond.


    Godric feigned a cough. "I see. Lady Blackstone, how long would it take before we''re ready to depart?" He asked. "You''ll depart as soon as the dawn breaks, tomorrow. I was only here to ensure that the ship was ready to go, and it is. I''m giving the crew the night off to prepare." She replied as she headed toward the steps and onto the dock. "We have quarters in the castle for you, but you''re free to go wherever you please." The lady had already made considerable distance and was heading toward the castle while flanked by two soldiers.


    "Well then...I''m off to the local inn and get something to drink. I''ll most likely end up sleeping there as well. Who wants to join in? Drinks are on me." Michael said to the rousing replies of the workers. "I''ll stay here on the ship and most likely doze off early. I haven''t slept in a proper bed the entire trip." Godric said to Ziyad''s agreement. "You and I had the same idea, Uhrihim. I will be down in the quarters." Ziyad said as he went down to the crew''s sleeping quarters. "Xhiamas?" Godric asked the Arrow, who was silent the entire time. "I will be fine, Godric. You go on ahead and rest." He headed to the bow and sat down, seemingly gazing at the distance. The young man respected his decision and went to find Ziyad, already asleep. Godric found a place to lay his head and soon drifted off.


    ***


    The following morning, Godric woke up to huddled noises and hurried steps on the deck. He rose from his bed and went up to find Xhiamas, Ziyad, and Michael assembled and conversing with Lady Emilie. "Oh, looks like you''re finally awake," Emilie said to Godric''s embarrassment. "Sorry about that. I''ve been having trouble sleeping lately--last night was a miracle in disguise." He replied as he stretched out underneath the morning sun while the smell of ocean air filled his lungs.


    "No worries. You woke up at the perfect time." Emilie said as a group of men boarded the ship. Most of them looked battle-hardened, bearing scars that were seemingly caused by weapons and beasts alike. "Gentlemen! Allow me to introduce to you the Nyxsteel Dragoons, the best seafaring soldiers, and the pride of the Royal Navy. Each hails from a brotherhood of houses loyal to the Blackstone family and has served Vandralis for countless generations." Emilie said proudly as she looked toward her men. "I leave them to you. I hope you''ll do Vandralis proud, Dragoons. Born of Black, Bound to Sea." She said as she thumped her hand on her chest. The soldiers responded with a united front as they mirrored their liege lady. "Born of Black, Bound to Sea!" Lady Emilie then turned to the group. "You''ll be in good hands, I assure you of that," she pulled out a pouch, similar in fashion to the one she had on her the day before. "Here, I prepared something for you--if ever you find yourself in trouble." Emilie gave the group the pouch, and Godric pulled out a string doll fashioned from silk that shimmered and shifted between silver and deep blue colors.


    "It is beautiful, milady. Thank you." He could feel that something was different from the gift as he inspected it, but he could not discern what it was, exactly. All he knew was that it had a sense of familiarity and mystery, all at the same time.


    Michael seemed charmed at the gift as if he recalled something from his youth. "Aethermoth silk? You''ve outdone yourself, Emilie." The lady responded with a dismissive huff. "At least thank me for the effort, cousin. Anyways, I''ll take my leave now. I have other pressing matters to attend to. Best of luck to you, gentlemen." The lady of House Blackstone left the ship immediately, leaving Godric and company alone with the Dragoons.


    "Right then...let''s get acquainted with one another, shall we?" Michael said. Not long after, the ship finally was in motion, creaking as the wind filled her sails with guiding winds. Orders were barked from the Dragoons'' captain. As the anchor was lifted, Godric could feel the tide of the vast ocean tug eagerly at the vessel, as if it were calling her out to receive her loving embrace, awaiting their arrival. Moments later, they had already gone past the coast, as the port of Vandralis was now nearly out of sight.


    A Dragoon approached Michael and Godric, who were both admiring the sight. "If we keep at this speed, Azane will be a two-month trip, just in time for the Wakingtide season." He said. "Thank you, captain. I''m no expert at seafaring, so I leave our group''s fate in your hands." The captain shook Michael''s hand as an act of trust before leaving the two to themselves.


    "An amazing view, isn''t it?" Michael asked Godric, who sat awestruck at the helm. "Truth be told, I haven''t been to Azane myself, so I''m in the same boat as you are." The ship rocked in a harmonious motion as Godric remained in silence.


    "Michael, do you think we''ll make it out of this alive?" Godric finally asked, breaking the silence. The royal guard replied with a hum. "Our chances are slim, but it''s better than nothing." He said as he observed the young man''s expression. "I was never a religious person, but whenever I found myself in trouble, fearing for the worst, I always thought about the things that mattered the most to me. In some way or another, the Divines always seem to be on my side--and I''d end up barely alive. It has been a long time since I''ve resorted to this odd practice, so I''ll pass it on to you. Who knows? Maybe you''ll be favored by the Divines even better than I." Michael left the young man alone to ponder on his words.


    Godric looked back to the coast, and the city had already disappeared. As he soaked in the scent of brine while the wind bristled against his hair, the faces of every person who mattered most to him flooded his mind. The ocean stretched for leagues beyond his comprehension, and the possibilities were endless. But by now, he no longer feared such things. With the smell of danger and destiny over the horizon, Godric and company sailed toward the unknown--ready and waiting.

 Epilogue

    The days and nights passed, and the expedition settled at Emberhold Frontier to resupply. Wyatt and Cassian had expected freezing temperatures, but not to this extent. The place was home to a settlement for humans and dwarves alike and acted as the border between the realms of both races. Trade was abundant, and the settlement was in good condition despite the ongoing trouble in the far north.


    Wyatt pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "By the seven hells, it''s freezing up in here." He said as Cassian approached him and gave him freshly roasted skewered meat, still smoking. "Eat it now while it''s still hot. They say it''s a local delicacy, and it''s damn good." He said as he took a bite of his piece, which was already halfway finished.


    Wyatt, curious about his father''s reputation amongst other dwarves, wanted to ask someone other than the emissary for more information. He was close to approaching someone who also had his eyes set on the young man, eager for a conversation when a loud shriek echoed over the mountain. The sound pierced through every person''s body and chilled them to the bone, and was unlike anything Wyatt had ever heard before. It was not long until the screaming began, and panic began to spread among the townsfolk.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Uriel, with his charisma and solid leadership, immediately commanded every able-bodied man to watch over their families and evacuate the premises. He then looked to Khandem, who looked at him with dread in his eyes. "Blessed ancestors..." Khandem said. "May the old gods help us all." Suddenly, a large figure emerged from over the mountain and cast a large shadow over the mountain. The horses reared and snorted, as their breaths came out in frantic bursts of steam.


    "Hold your positions!" Uriel rallied the royal guards, who immediately defensively locked their weapons. Mana began to surge from each member, creating a somewhat transparent barrier. "Stand your ground, men!" Uriel whispered a chant and a battle staff materialized out of thin air and onto Uriel''s firm grip.


    "Shit. We''re in it now, Wyatt..." Cassian said as he raised his shield and took cover under the barrier. Wyatt stepped forward, undeterred as he held his warhammer. The figure now dove in and headed straight toward the group. Soon, they were now faced with an ungodly being of otherworldly proportions. With a united scream, the expedition faced off against the beast, in the hopes of defending the settlement and proceeding on towards the great north.