《The Landvaettir》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


    The clock ticked three.


    Varen sighed unconsciously, the feathered quill in his hand meticulously tracing letters onto paper. He finished a page and lifted it to eye level to double-check its contents, blowing on it simultaneously to help the ink dry faster. Once he was satisfied, he placed it gingerly on top of the already thick stack of papers on his desk. Then, fishing out a fresh piece, he resumed his work, occasionally pausing ever so briefly to ink his pen when it began to run dry.


    A chair screeched as it was dragged against the floor, and he spun around in annoyance to glower at the culprit. It was one of his colleagues who''d gotten up to take a short break, and Varen''s eye twitched as he spotted the stack of documents on the man''s desk. The stack was a third the size of his own, and he scoffed internally. A quick glance around the room revealed that his other co-workers had been working just as hard.


    Maybe I should take a break, I clearly don''t need to put in as much effort as I am, he thought. He turned back to his own work and winced as he saw what he''d done. A long line of ink was blotted hideously across the piece of paper, the result of his sudden movement.


    "Right, definitely need that break," he murmured as he crushed the paper up, tossing it into the small basket by the foot of his desk.


    It was unusable, unacceptable work now. The cost of the wastage would be deducted from his paycheck, but there was no point mulling over his mistake, unsalvageable as it was.


    His hands suddenly felt extremely sore as he began rearranging his desk, returning pen and paper to where they rightfully belonged on it. It was a soreness that he''d become accustomed to since his student days, an unfortunate side effect of gripping a pen all day. He wrung his hands out in a practiced manner, cracking his wrists and finger joints.


    Translating old texts was hard work, and it certainly wasn''t a career he''d expected to end up in when he chose to specialise in archaeology. Five years of tertiary study in the Academy had prepared him for bigger things, like journeys to dig sites in the ruins of fallen civilisations, not¡­ this.


    Still, sitting in relative silence in an old, musty room with thirty other people all day had its perks. The job was important all the same, and while it didn''t pay much, it did at least pay decently for the amount of effort he was clearly expected to put in.


    Taking care to make less of a commotion than his colleague, Varen rose from his seat, tucking the thick tome he''d been translating from under his left arm. As far as old texts went, it was a relatively new addition to the Royal Archives. An adventurer team had unearthed it eight years ago from the ruins of a castle in the Wraentis Empire, an ancient civilisation whose existence had only been discovered in the last decade.


    The lands of the Wraentis Empire were the furthest lands that had been mapped so far, and it was still unclear how much further the Empire had stretched. What was more intriguing though, was the fact that it survived as long as it had, being that deep in the Unknown Territories, where the threat of Vaettir ¨C the all inclusive term for the creatures of the unexplored ¨C was ever present.


    Just over five centuries was the current estimation of the Empire''s lifespan, after the Cataclysm and before the founding of the current Three Great Kingdoms. That much had been gleaned through a multitude of texts and collected relics. Though, it was unclear how much time had passed between the end of the Empire and the beginnings of the current Kingdoms. A long time, Varen guessed, considering that most signs of that civilisation had decayed into nothingness.


    Ideas cycled through Varen''s mind as he strolled through the empty hallways to the cafeteria. Perhaps the people of Wraentis had the technology to effectively defend themselves from the Vaettir? Well, if they did, then it was another secret yet to be uncovered. Still, it was an exciting thought. Who knew how much more there was to discover?


    Soon, the heavy wooden doors of the cafeteria came into view, and Varen shrugged his speculations away. He was here to relax and to take a much needed breather, as well as partake in a dose of much needed caffeine. He grabbed the door''s embellished gold handles and pushed, leaning his weight against the thick wood and grunting slightly from the effort.


    "Whoever designed this is an idiot," he mumbled in displeasure as the door creaked open a tad, just enough for him to slip in before it slowly swung shut.


    He considered for the hundredth time bringing the matter up in a formal complaint, but decided against it again, citing the usual reasons in his head. It was a trivial matter, and even if anyone took it seriously, the amount of red tape involved simply meant it wouldn''t be worth the time.


    That was without mentioning that the Archives were technically a wing of the Royal Palace, which the royal family had generously donated in the pursuit of knowledge. Whoever had been important enough to approve the design was far too important for a lowly scholar like him to offend.


    Varen''s shoulders slumped as he strode across the floor to the food and drinks counter, resigned to his fate of struggling with the heavy cafeteria doors every day in the foreseeable future.


    "You okay, lad?" the man behind the counter asked as he approached. "Saw you struggling with the door again."


    "Yeah, I''m fine. Just part of my daily struggle, nothing out of the ordinary," Varen replied, putting on a weary smile.


    The man chuckled, shaking his head as he placed an empty tray upon the counter. "So, the usual?"


    "Mhm, coffee and a sandwich please."


    "You need to eat more, kid," the man said as he began preparing Varen''s order. "You''re thin like a stick for your height. Most wouldn''t have a problem with the door, you know."


    Ah, right, that''s another reason. Anyone he complained about the door to would have given him the once-over and laughed in his face. Yes, he had a small appetite and was prone to skipping meals when he was engrossed with something, but surely he wasn''t that physically weak?


    "Tell you what, it''s a little late, but let me whip up a few leftovers from lunchtime for you, free of charge. Sound good?"


    "Sure, why not?" nodded Varen. He wasn''t that hungry, but he was never one to refuse an offer of free food.


    "Just this once, don''t get used to it," the man smirked, placing a cup of coffee, a sandwich, and a plate of leftovers onto the tray. "Enjoy."


    "Thanks, I will."


    Varen grabbed the tray with both hands, ensuring that the book was still secure under his arm before making his way to one of the many empty tables. He spotted his colleague from before out of the corner of his eye, sitting with a few others and talking quite animatedly.


    Wracking his brain, Varen tried to recall the man''s name ¨C what was it again? Kelvin? Kevin? Something similar to that, at least. He had a head of scruffy blond hair that stood him apart from the others. The rest of the faces were at least a little bit familiar, but their names didn''t come to mind either.


    He gave their group a wide berth, moving instead to another table further down the floor. He doubted they knew his name either, seeing as how he''d basically never spoken to them after their initial introductions. Not that it mattered, since their job didn''t exactly demand a team effort. He was perfectly fine on his own.


    Setting his tray down on the table''s wooden surface, Varen sat and took a sip of warm coffee from the mug, allowing himself a small sigh of satisfaction as the bitter aftertaste of the drink lingered on his tongue. He hadn''t liked it in the past, but it had grown on him after many sleepless nights as a student. The book was placed down next to him on the bench as he unwrapped his sandwich and began to nibble on it.


    His gaze travelled around the cafeteria as he ate slowly, nothing really catching his attention in particular. He shook his legs restlessly and tried to focus on the food before him instead. The sandwich tasted of cold ham and eggs as per usual, while the mish-mash of meat and vegetables on the plate was¡­ colourful, to say the least.


    After a few more bites of his sandwich as he stared at the plate of leftovers, Varen gave in and allowed his gaze to travel to the book by his side, his attempt at taking a break from work unsuccessful. Setting the tome onto the table, he reread its title before thumbing it open to the page where he had left off.


    The Fate of the World, it read. Chapter Twelve: The Cataclysm.


    From its title, and from the contents that he''d translated of the previous eleven chapters, Varen was certain that the publication of old wasn''t meant to be one that documented historical facts. Instead, it seemed to be a text of prophecy, and a pretty controversial one at that. Probably something from a cult, if he hazarded a guess.


    Still, that was the nature of the work of the Archivists''. Every bit of knowledge, ranging from children''s tales to official documents was important, and could allow researchers to understand the cultures of fallen civilisations to the smallest detail.


    At least this is interesting, if a little fanatical, Varen thought as he continued reading.


    The Cataclysm is thought of as an act of nature, as nothing more than a natural disaster on the widest scale imaginable. We see the aftermath of it everywhere we look ¨C from mountains that reach the sky to valleys with no end, all formed when the earth was rent and split in twain.


    Varen placed his half-eaten sandwich down to take a sip of his coffee. He used his left hand to pace himself, dragging a finger under the words. Speed reading wouldn''t do, not when he had to be sure not to miss out any details.


    But, we of the faith know that the Cataclysm was much more than a natural catastrophe. It was divine punishment wrought upon the entire world, to cleanse the land of of sin. To cleanse the land of us. Nature can do no sin, but eventually nature too will suffer when humanity''s sins become too much to bear. Our church seeks to bring the people onto the path of repentance, but our beliefs ring on deaf ears, and the gods grow closer to wroth everyday. There can be no doubt that the world will be cleansed again, as it has many times before.


    Varen quirked an eyebrow at the sentence. There certainly was a theory that the Cataclysm wasn''t a one-time disaster, and that it was simply the latest in a string of other similarly destructive phenomena. Substantial evidence had yet to be discovered, however, and it was well understood that a fanatical text like this definitely couldn''t be considered as fact.


    With the end inevitable once more, we have begun preparations to abandon the unbelievers. To abandon our fellow man. Our plans will take time, but time is on our side for now. The Empire will no doubt fall long before the end; distrust is already brewing in the capital, but things should be stable until we are ready to head south.


    South? Further into the Unknown? Varen wondered what their final destination was, and he made a mental note to search it up. He took another sip of coffee.


    We have centuries to be ready, and we will survive. We will survive the end, and we will spread the faith when all has been rebuilt. Hopefully the people, the world, will believe our teachings then.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He turned the page, and promptly choked on his coffee, nearly dropping the mug. He spluttered, and drops of coffee flew from his mouth, though thankfully none landed on the open book.


    "Fuck," he swore under his breath. A scowl decorated his face as he just about slammed the cup down onto the tray, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his robe.


    Kevin ¨C or whatever his name was ¨C had risen from his seat and was making his way over. He was accompanied by a blonde-haired girl, her similarly coloured hair bound up in a ponytail. Both blondes shared a look of concern on their faces, but that was hardly the most troubling bit.


    Gazing back down at the book, Varen rubbed his eyes in disbelief.


    100 days : 8 hours : 45 minutes : 52 seconds, was all that was displayed on the entire page. And the seconds were counting down.


    xxxxx


    "You''re sure you''re fine?"


    "Yes! Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Varen snapped exasperatedly, walking as briskly as he could through the hallway. He rounded a corner, followed closely by his two colleagues who were keeping up with him effortlessly. "And I don''t recall inviting the both of you to accompany me."


    "You just look really pale, Varen. We''re just tagging along in case you collapse or something," the petite blonde girl said, giving her male counterpart a shrug, as if to say ''what''s his problem?''. "What''re you in such a rush for anyway?"


    "To see the Head Majstor about a grave matter," replied Varen tersely, shifting his gaze to look at the girl for a split-second, mildly surprised that she knew his name. The surprise faded swiftly as he concentrated on navigating the hallways, lamenting the fact that his destination was still over a minute''s walk away.


    A minute¡­ Varen''s heart hammered in his chest as he counted the seconds in his head, knowing that the numbers were ticking down in the book as well. His grip tightened around the book till his knuckles were white, and he quickened his pace as he turned right at a corridor junction. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed him by his left arm, and his heart leapt into his throat at the contact.


    "What the hell do you think you''re doing? Haven''t I made it clear that this is important?!" he shouted in anger, spinning around to glare daggers at the slightly taller blond male. He could feel the seconds counting down, and he didn''t have time to tolerate their behaviour.


    "Woah, calm down Varen, I''m not trying to stop you," his colleague said, releasing his grip on Varen''s arm and raising both hands to show he meant no harm. The man then tilted his head in the opposite direction of the corridor, "Head Majstor''s office is that way."


    Varen blinked in realisation, and the anger he felt toward the blond instantly turned against himself. Cursing himself for his lack of directional sense, he mumbled a brief apology for his outburst, "Right, sorry¡­"


    "Anything else?"


    "¡­ Thanks."


    "Apology accepted, and you''re welcome," the blond nodded, his expression neutral. "Come on, Varen. Whatever the matter is, it''s important, right? Let''s go."


    He then shifted, gesturing for Varen to lead the way. Varen kept his head down, regaining his pace in the right direction as his two co-workers followed. He was painfully aware that they were now keeping their distance.


    Way to go, champ, Varen chided himself. Yes, he preferred to be alone at most times, but he wasn''t self-destructive about it. Ruining relationships and isolating himself from his peers by making them dislike him just wasn''t his style.


    In a way though, it was a blessing in disguise. The shame he felt now from his unnecessary outburst was enough to stop his mind from running at a million miles an hour. He was still hurried, but less panicked.


    "Just another right and we''ll be there," his male colleague called out, and Varen tilted his head to face his workmate, giving a slight nod to acknowledge his words. Turning the corner, he was greeted by the sight of a royal guardsman standing guard by the office''s entrance.


    "Halt," the guardsman said sternly as their party of three approached with Varen in the lead. "Your business?"


    "I need to speak with the Head Majstor, please," said Varen. "It''s important."


    "That''s what everyone says, kid. You have an appointment?"


    "No, but this really is a matter of the utmost importance. It''s a matter of life and death!"


    The guard studied Varen for moment, then said stoically, "Fine, but it''s not wholly my decision to make. Give me your names, I''ll ask if the Head Majstor is free for an audience."


    "Varen Ashtar."


    "And your companions?"


    Right, their names¡­ Varen paused, staring blankly at the guard. He would have been unashamed to simply ask them for their names under normal circumstances, but he didn''t want to risk offending them further, especially after he had acted in such an unjustly manner. Thankfully, his male colleague stepped forward before he could further embarrass himself.


    "Kleven and Caelie Trevek."


    Huh, so they were siblings. They did have similar enough features, now that Varen thought of it. Dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, button noses and sun-kissed skin that was very much unlike his own pale skin tone, he noted.


    "Understood. Wait here," instructed the guard once he''d received their names, entering the office to pass the message.


    "Man, you genuinely didn''t know our names, huh?" Caelie piped up as soon as the door was shut, leaving the three of them in the hallway. "I was really hoping you did."


    She sounded disappointed and mildly annoyed, and Varen kept his eyes on the ground as he sheepishly mumbled another apology.


    "Don''t mind her, she''s just sore about a lost bet," Kleven said, waving off his apology.


    "A lost bet?" asked Varen quizzically, raising his gaze from the floor to meet theirs, the change in topic piquing his interest.


    Kleven chuckled, "My younger sister here thought it was a good idea to take a bet on whether or not you knew our names, and I won, obviously."


    "Hey!" Caelie retorted, scrunching her nose up unhappily. "I''m only younger by two minutes! It hardly counts!"


    "I''d say your brother has a valid claim," Varen offered, letting out a nervous laugh as she glared at him accusingly for taking Kleven''s side. "I never would have pegged the two of you as twins though."


    "Non-identical, I like to think," Kleven grinned, Caelie folding her arms with a small ''hmph'' by his side. "Only things we have in common are our looks and our penchant for mischief, as our father always used to say."


    Varen gave a small smile at their antics, which quickly faded. Bowing his head, he said sincerely, "Again, I really am sorry for losing my temper at you just now, Kleven. My day''s been filled with surprise after surprise, and it''s getting a little overwhelming. To be honest, I didn''t even think that anyone knew who I was, let alone knew my name."


    "Of course we know who you are! We shared quite a few classes with you back in the Academy, and you''ve hardly changed one bit," pouted Caelie. "Why else would I be so disappointed? Losing a bet isn''t enough to get me down, you know."


    "Ah¡­"


    "You owe us a favour for forgetting us, yeah?"


    "Fair enough," Varen conceded, and Caelie gave a small smile, satisfied.


    "So what did you read in that tome that''s got you so riled up? I don''t think I''ve ever seen you show as much emotion as you have today," Kleven asked, giving the book in Varen''s arm a curious look.


    Before Varen could reply, however, the office door opened, and the guardsman peered out. "The Head Majstor''s agreed to spare you some of his time. Come, follow me."


    xxxxx


    The guard ushered them into the musty office, through lines of bookshelves that extended from the floor to the ceiling. It seemed more of a library instead of a workspace, crammed to the brim with knowledge as it was. Following their escort, they were led to the centre of the room, where a man with a full head of greying hair was hunched over at the desk, writing at a furious pace.


    "Head Majstor, your guests," the guard announced, gesturing for the three of them to wait, before retreating from the room to return to his post.


    For someone who was in charge of the Archives, as well as the kingdom''s unit of elite magicians, Head Majstor Zharin looked youthful for his age. He was a powerful individual, considered by many to wield nearly as much influence as the King, and as far as Varen could tell, he was stuck behind his desk doing paperwork. Several other pens were also hovering by Zharin''s side, animated by magic to assist in the mundane task.


    "Head Majstor¡ª" Varen began, only to be interrupted by the older man holding up an imposing palm that signalled pause.


    Zharin''s gaze hadn''t yet left the table, his attention still fixed on the task before him. Another minute passed before he finally stopped writing, placing his writing tool down and raising his head to study his three guests with calculating eyes.


    "Junior Archivist Ashtar, I believe this isn''t the first time we''ve spoken," the Head Majstor finally spoke, only giving the Trevek twins a passing glance as he addressed Varen. "When was it? Six years ago?"


    "Y-yes sir, when I was still a student. We spoke briefly when you informed me of my step-brother''s disappearance," replied Varen, stammering slightly, his nerves fraying under the man''s commanding presence.


    "Ah yes, your step-brother, one of the best men in my unit. Right after his public debut as well, what a shame. How have you and the family been coping?"


    "I wouldn''t know about the family, sir. I haven''t spoken a word to them since then, and they avoid me like the plague," Varen stiffened up for a second before shrugging as nonchalantly as he could. "It hasn''t been much of a loss. I was never particularly close to any of them in the first place, my step-brother included."


    "I see," Zharin nodded, saying no more on the matter. "I understand you needed to speak with me urgently. Surely you wouldn''t drop by during working hours to make a personal call, would you?"


    "Uh, no sir, I wouldn''t," Varen agreed, somewhat puzzled. He couldn''t tell if the Head Majstor had just made a joke, especially not from the man''s still deadpan expression. Shoving the thought aside, he decided to err on the side of caution and continue with the more important matter at hand.


    Opening the Wraentisian tome to the page with the countdown, Varen handed it over to Zharin. He then began to recount what he''d read in the book''s previous few pages. The Head Majstor studied its contents for himself as Varen spoke, his face still betraying no emotion, and Varen couldn''t help but wonder how long it''d taken the man to develop such a visage.


    "What do you two think of this?" Zharin asked the twins as Varen finished.


    "It seems absurd," said Kleven as he processed the story. "Much like many other religious and prophetic texts. I''d be inclined to simply dismiss it as the ramblings of a cultist, if not for the magic countdown."


    "The countdown does give it a more ominous feeling," Caelie hummed in agreement. "It''s not that uncommon to find magic inscriptions in the old texts we work with, though I probably would have panicked like Varen if I''d been the one to discover that. A hundred days is far too close for comfort, especially since we''re talking about an end of the world prophecy."


    Varen nodded along with her answer, glad that she agreed with his line of thought.


    Zharin cleared his throat. "Valid points. I suppose it would be prudent of me to inform you, Mr Ashtar, that many have brought up issues on similar subject matters over the years, since our discovery of the Wraentis Empire. Written works and relics that seemed to hint of an impending doom in the future."


    "Has anything been done to check the validity of the claims? If that''s alright of me to ask, sir," asked Varen, frowning slightly. Of course there would have been other uncovered texts that spoke of the same thing, and he didn''t like where the Head Majstor was going with it.


    "Indeed. Your step-brother was on an exploratory mission to Castle Feldraks, to see if he could find further clues. It was unfortunate that their position was overrun by Vaettir, and it took us months to reclaim what progress we''d lost in the area," Zharin explained. "That isn''t the problem we face now, however."


    The Head Majstor continued with a small sigh, the first real emotion that they''d seen him exhibit, "Since we''ve not managed to uncover substantial evidence, the Council elected to cease investigations earlier this year, with our King''s approval."


    "I suppose showing the Council the magic countdown in the book won''t change anything then?" guessed Varen, his head hung in disappointment.


    "That is correct," Zharin concurred. "As Ms Trevek mentioned, magical inscriptions are not all that uncommon. Furthermore, there are other factors to consider. The book could have been tampered with, for example. Perhaps someone added the inscription when no one was looking, as a prank of sorts. There is simply no way to date it, and as such we are unable to prove that it is valid. Even I cannot ascertain if the countdown was added by its author in the first place. Magic has its limits, and that is one of them."


    A pregnant pause filled the room. Varen knew that the older man was speaking the truth. There were just too many unknown factors to take into consideration. It was strange how much he minded it, but for some reason he knew that the prophecy and the countdown were important. Yet, if the Council wouldn''t believe it, what could he do? They were a collection of the most powerful and influential people in the Ivolas Kingdom, whereas he was just a simple scholar who had worked hard at his studies.


    "However," Zharin said, breaking the silence and capturing Varen''s attention again. "I believe this warrants a proper investigation. Out of all the texts that told of an ''end'', not one of them provided a specific timeframe for it, much less a deadline. If we are to believe this inscription, then we only have a little over three months before a catastrophe will take place."


    "Since this will be an unofficial investigation," the Head Majstor continued, "I am unable to assign my men to it, or see to it myself for that matter. That will raise unwanted questions by people I wish to avoid, and will certainly delay the proceedings. Do you get my drift, Junior Archivist Ashtar?"


    Varen gulped, understanding immediately what the older man was implying. He was tempted to refuse, to continue being safe and secure at his work desk doing mundane translations. Life had beaten the ambition out of him in recent years, but deep down he knew that he wanted more. He was immediately reminded of how his mum had regaled him with vivid tales of adventure when he was a child. He''d told her that he would see them all for himself one day.


    Zharin''s offer was a golden opportunity, and Varen knew it would be his biggest regret it if he said no. And ultimately, if the world was ending, what did he have to lose? With a decision made and his mind steeled, Varen gave a determined nod.


    "Very well. You will be headed to Feldraks. It should be relatively safe for you to start your investigations there, for the research camp is heavily garrisoned. With a much larger force than before, I assure you. We have learnt from our mistakes. I will make the arrangements and summon you tomorrow. That''s all for now," Zharin said, sending The Fate of the World flying back into Varen''s arms with simple chant and a flick of his wrist. "The three of you may consider yourselves done with your work for the day. Return and ensure your bags are packed."


    "Even us?" Caelie asked, surprised.


    "Yes, that includes you and your brother, Ms Trevek," reiterated the Head Majstor, a hint of a smile upon his lips, his most expressive gesture yet. "After all, you''re friends, are you not?"

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2


    Varen woke before daybreak.


    The previous day had been exhausting. So many things had taken place in the small span of a few hours, and even after a night''s rest, Varen still felt drained. Caelie had been relentless in wanting to know more about his step-brother as well, but he''d managed to deflect her questions until she gave up out of annoyance. Thankfully, Kleven didn''t seem to have much interest in his family.


    Varen blinked and rubbed his sore eyes with the back of his hands, before splaying his arms out above his quilt, still unwilling to leave the cold embrace of his bed. The dark, uninviting ceiling of his inn room provided no answers as he stared up at it, trying to sort out his thoughts.


    ''Unexpected'' was probably the best word to describe it all, and Varen wasn''t the biggest fan of things happening without warning. His mother succumbing to illness and his father''s remarriage mere months after her death had both been unhappy surprises. His step-mother coercing his father into cutting ties with him after his step-brother Draeon''s disappearance, even more so.


    Yes, he hadn''t been close to them, but they were family by the loosest description of the word, even if only for a short stint. He hadn''t even been allowed to continue using the family name, though he wasn''t too bothered by that bit. Using his mother''s maiden name, Ashtar, gave him something to remember her by.


    A thump emanated from the floor below, and Varen sat up by force of habit. The sound had been the signal for him to ''get down here and help, you freeloader'' for the last six years, as his benefactor had so eloquently put it. Another thump shook the floorboards a little, and he grumbled to himself, "I''m up, I''m up!"


    Varen reluctantly pushed the duvet off himself and swiveled to sit on the side of the bed. Furrowing his brow in concentration, he joined his palms together. With the image of a blazing wildfire in his head, he incanted the words as they appeared in his mind, "Flame of life, bring me light and warmth ¨C and by fire may all be cleansed."


    Familiar warmth spread through his hands, and he opened his palms in a cupping motion to reveal a small hovering flame, quite the contrary to what he''d imagined. It illuminated the compact room beautifully, but at the same time it was an oh so disappointing sight to him. Generating a basic flame was the extent of his magical capabilities, no matter how much he altered the intention behind his spell. Really, it was more of a party trick than proper magic, as established mages would say.


    Standing, Varen took two steps across the room to his dresser table. A lantern was on top of it, and he lit it with the magical flame before snuffing the fiery wisp out by clenching his fist. A worn duffel bag was on the floor by the dresser, and he patted dust off it as he lifted it onto the table''s surface.


    "Hello again, old friend," he said softly. It was the bag he''d carried all his belongings in when he was disowned, and now it was being used once again for the same purpose, as he systematically packed all that he owned into it. The Wraentisian tome that sparked the reason for his trip went into the bag as well. There was still space left over once he was nearly done, since he didn''t have much to pack ¨C a few sets of clothing, some books and a stash of money that he''d saved up were all that he had to his name.


    Opening one of the dresser''s drawers, Varen took out the last few articles of clothing in his possession. Instead of stuffing them into the duffel bag, he laid them out onto his bed for later. His coarse grey Archivist robes, a scarf and a pair of leather gloves. Winter was still a ways away, but it was starting to get windy out, and in addition, he was pretty sensitive to the cold.


    Satisfied that he was all prepared for the Head Majstor''s summons, Varen began making his way downstairs. He tiptoed down the building''s wooden stairs, avoiding the spots that would creak with the ease that came with years of practice. To his surprise, there was someone else other than his benefactor that was already awake, seated at one of the inn''s corner tables with a book in hand. He went unnoticed by the person as he walked behind the bar counter and into the kitchen.


    "You look shit as usual," his benefactor greeted as he entered. She was a homely-looking woman in her mid-forties. A pair of round-rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, and her chestnut brown hair was braided down her back. "When are you getting a haircut? It looks like someone slapped a raggedy mop on that head of yours."


    "Good morning to you too, Eden," Varen said, stifling a yawn. A few strands of his black shoulder length hair dropped down between his eyes, and he swiped it back casually. "How many times have you asked that now? Nineteen? Twenty?"


    "Who''s keeping count? All I know is that your hair grows more unruly each and every time I do," Eden smirked as she wiped a plate clean with a rag. "If you were my son I''d take a pair of scissors to that mane myself!"


    "It''s a good thing I''m not then," Varen quipped back, earning him a quick lash to the side as Eden brandished her rag like a whip. His side smarted tenderly, but he couldn''t stop the slight grin that came upon his face as he rubbed the spot she''d struck.


    "Oh just get to work, you cheeky boy," she chuckled, the cloth in her hand back to wiping another plate down. "You better get everything done before you have to leave, you hear me?"


    "Yes, Ms Eden," Varen said jokingly. Another whip of Eden''s cloth came bearing down, but he was ready for it this time, sidestepping it easily and causing the older woman to scowl. Laughing at her reaction, he grabbed a kitchen knife and strode over to one of the countertops that was laden with multiple baskets of fruits and vegetables.


    The knife in his hand flew expertly across the chopping board as he sliced the greens and chopped up the fruit. Eden finished cleaning the stack of plates and turned her attention to several large pots of soup that simmered on the stove. Opening the lid of one, she grabbed a handful of chopped vegetables and tossed them in, before giving it a few stirs with her ladle. They worked together silently and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.


    With his hands busy at the familiar task, Varen allowed his mind to wander back to the day before. He recalled what Head Majstor Zharin had said before he had dismissed them from his office.


    Friends, huh¡­


    Kleven and Caelie were certainly pleasant acquaintances at the very least, now that Varen knew their names, but he didn''t know if they could be considered friends. A peculiar question popped up in his head, and he asked, "Eden, are we friends?"


    "You''re an idiot if you think otherwise, Varen," replied Eden without a second''s thought, not even turning her attention from her task. "Why do you ask that? It''s an extremely silly question, in case you haven''t noticed."


    Varen dwelled on the thought. It felt weird to think of her as his friend. Eden was his saviour, the one who had given him a roof to sleep under when he found himself homeless. It did make him happy to know for sure that the older woman thought more of him than just someone to take pity on and care for, though.


    "I''ve just been thinking about what makes a friend," he admitted.


    "Varen, you''re overthinking things again," Eden closed a pot lid and turned to face him, a look of mild concern on her face. "Friends are what you make them to be. It''s as simple as that. Have you made some new friends at work?"


    "I don''t know. I''ve only known them a day, but someone referred to us as friends, and it got me thinking. They''re heading out with me into the Unknown Territories to the dig site I told you of, actually," Varen said, remembering to stick with the white lie he''d told her about his trip.


    "Take the chance to get to know them during your journey then, and you''ll know in time if you''re friends. And when you get back, bring them over for a meal! They''re the first people from work or school that you''ve ever mentioned to me, and I want to meet them!"


    "When I get back," nodded Varen, making a mental note, very nearly saying ''if'' instead of ''when''.


    "You''re sure you have no idea how long you''ll be?"


    "Why would I lie, Eden?" lied Varen, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. "You know how these archaeological digs are. Progress will be even slower since it''s a newly discovered site. Less than three months, hopefully," he recited the lines he''d prepared for her.


    Or maybe the world ends, he omitted.


    Eden looked at him thoughtfully, and for a moment he was afraid his hidden nervousness had been seen through. "I''ll keep your room open for when you return," she said, and Varen sighed in relief internally.


    "You don''t have to, Eden. I''m getting paid for the job," Varen hoped he was, anyway, "and I''ll have enough to rent my own place¡ª"


    "I''ll keep your room for you," repeated Eden, and Varen ceased his protesting. No one could change the woman''s mind after she''d made it up, and that he knew from experience. He finished cutting the remainder of the produce and moved to her side to assist her with the cooking.


    "It''s fine, Varen, I can handle it," assured Eden with a smile. "I don''t want to tire you out, and you''ve got a long journey ahead of you. Go get your things, you''ll have to leave soon, right?"


    "Hmm? No, not yet, only when the Head Majstor summons me."


    "But he already has, Varen," Eden laughed softly. "His messenger arrived before you came down, but I asked for a bit of time."


    "Oh¡­ the person on the dining floor?"


    Eden nodded, placing her ladle down and drawing him in for a hug. "Come back safe, you understand? Give your best and do a good job, but come back safe. I have a surprise prepared for you when you do."


    "I will," Varen promised. "I don''t know if I can, but I will, Eden."


    "That makes no sense, but I''m glad to hear it," she said, squeezing him tighter in the embrace before releasing him. "Don''t keep them waiting any longer! Just get your bags and go, no need to tell little old me when you do. I''ll be waiting for you to get back!"The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Eden pushed him out of the kitchen before Varen could get another word in edgewise. She''d tried to hide them, but he''d seen the tears pooling at the edges of her eyes, and he felt guilty for making her cry.


    At that instant, determination welled up in his chest, and he swore to himself that he would succeed in their investigation and find a way to prevent another possible cataclysmic event. He''d accepted the Head Majstor''s proposal because he wanted more in his life, but now he decided he would do his best for Eden as well.


    The Head Majstor''s messenger was still seated when he''d finished changing and came back down to the inn''s first floor with his bag in tow, though this time she wasn''t hidden behind her book. She seemed to be a few years older than him, dressed in the purple robes of a Majstor. A Junior Majstor, by the looks of it, as her attire lacked the symbol that signified seniority in rank. It also lacked the insignia of the Majstoria, Zharin''s elite unit, which Varen found hardly surprising. He''d have recognised her face otherwise, since members of the Majstoria were basically celebrities in the capital. Though, he supposed she could have been undercover, or still unqualified to make her public debut.


    "Varen Ashtar. Are you finally ready?" she addressed him in a moderately annoyed tone, and Varen nodded. "Let''s go then."


    xxxxx


    The sun was still rising as they reached the city''s main road. The capital city Ivolas, sharing its namesake with that of the Kingdom''s, was built into the side of a mountain, and the city roads snaked a winding path from its base to the Royal Palace. The Palace was the city''s highest point, and it was carved from the rock about midway from the mountain''s summit. A cold wind blew, and Varen wrapped his scarf tighter around his shoulders such that it slightly obscured his mouth.


    "Are we not meeting the Head Majstor at the Archives?" he asked as the messenger took the downward sloping road, leading him downhill in the direction of the city''s gates.


    "Head Master Zharin has matters to attend to. I will go into the details once we meet your companions," she replied curtly. She offered no further explanation for the moment, and Varen didn''t ask either. He took the chance instead to soak in the city''s sights while the streets were still empty.


    The Kingdom''s capital had transformed a little since the last time Varen had taken a good look at it, and that was quite a while ago since he didn''t get out much. What time he had before and after work was spent helping Eden out around the inn. The potholes in the well-used roads had been fixed with new cobblestone, and numerous new buildings had sprouted up as well, giving the city a more compact feel to it. Not that it had been extremely spacious before.


    It took another fifteen minutes of walking for them to reach the gates, even after taking shortcuts in the form of stairs that connected the different road levels. The twins were already waiting there ¨C Kleven was leaning on the side of a carriage, and Caelie was seated on the carriage''s back step, fast asleep. Varen noted from the bags at their feet that they had packed relatively light as well. Kleven seemed to have only one rucksack, like him, while his twin sported two hand-carry bags that were obviously filled to the brim.


    Kleven noticed their arrival and nudged his other half awake, causing her to splutter awake unceremoniously with a dazed expression. Drool stained the side of her lips, and she sleepily wiped it away before stretching out into a long yawn. It was all in all an unladylike sight, and Varen couldn''t help but chuckle silently.


    "How are any of you functioning?" Caelie murmured through half-open eyes. "No one should be awake at this ungodly hour, it''s just not right!"


    "Ahem," their Majstor-messenger cleared her throat, drawing their attention from the petite blonde''s complaints. "The Head Majstor has prepared transportation for the three of you to the border town of Lakenside. It will be a three day journey by carriage, and you''ll find relevant provisions have already been prepared."


    She produced a sealed letter and a small sack of coins from her robe pockets, handing them over to Varen. "Further instructions are included within, and the Head Majstor requests that you open it along your ride. The gold is for further food supplies, miscellaneous usage, as well as a contingency for any possible emergencies. That should be everything. Any questions?"


    Nothing came to mind, and Varen shook his head. He dropped the sack of coins into his duffel bag and tucked the letter into his own pockets.


    The twins indicated that they had no questions of their own either, and the woman continued, "Then my job at playing messenger is done, and I shall return to my duties. I wish you luck on your mission, whatever it is."


    Without so much as a backward glance, the Junior Majstor turned tail and left.


    "Are all Majstors so¡­ professional?" Kleven said, slightly amused by her standoffishness.


    "Like you wouldn''t believe," Varen mused, his gaze following the Junior Majstor until she was out of sight. "Probably felt that it was beneath her to act as a simple errand girl, just because she''s part of the rare few that can properly utilise magic."


    "Not the biggest fan of the practitioners, are you?" observed Kleven. "Although, I''m inclined to agree. The students in Magic Studies were always haughty around us when we were still in the Academy, even though they were in the minority."


    "Was your step-brother like that too?" Caelie slurred, her eyelids still droopy.


    "I thought you''d given up asking about my family," said Varen with a smirk, dodging her question once again. He lightly pushed her out of the way to climb aboard the carriage as she did her best impression of a sulk.


    The front flaps of the carriage were rolled up, revealing the two horses that would pull it. Their coach driver seemed to be conspicuously missing, however.


    "Huh¡­ did either of you see the coachman when you arrived earlier?" Varen asked the twins as they boarded the carriage as well, with Kleven giving Caelie a hand with both her bags.


    "No, and we were waiting for over an hour!" said Caelie, letting out another yawn. She flopped down lazily, using one of her bags as a makeshift pillow and taking up the entirety of the seat opposite her male companions. Within seconds, she was fast asleep again.


    "I believe this is one of those driverless carriages that''s all the rage now," Kleven stated after a moment''s thought.


    Varen looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What do you mean?"


    "The brainchild of an ex-Majstor, apparently, who specialised in taming and exerting control over animals. Quite a niche, as you can imagine, and he left the ranks of the mages to form this business. The transport guilds were up in arms about it a while back since it was taking their business, so now he only works for nobles, or those with enough coin," the blond explained. "We''re quite privileged to experience this, if it turns out this carriage is one of them."


    "It sounds like he would have been quite useful against certain Vaettir," Varen said pointedly. He couldn''t deny that the man''s entrepreneurial spirit was impressive though. The idea certainly wouldn''t have occurred to him if he''d been in the man''s place. "So how does it work?"


    "He implants the routes into the horses minds, I think, so horses only work the roads they''re familiar with. Here, I think this is how we get them to move¡­"


    Varen shifted his legs in as Kleven shuffled past him. The horses'' reins were tied firmly to a metal post at the front of the carriage, and Kleven reached out to give the reins a flick. At the command, the pair of steeds neighed and leaned into their harnesses, and the carriage creaked faintly as it jolted forward.


    The sudden movement caused Kleven to lose his balance. He stumbled backwards and crashed loudly into Varen with his full weight, the latter having unsuccessfully tried to hold the bigger blond up. They lay still for a second, breathing hard and groaning in pain. Miraculously, neither the horses nor Caelie had been affected by the din, with the former trotting forward single-mindedly and the latter snoring through it all.


    "You''re gonna have to get off me," Varen pointed out as they caught their breaths. "My hands are a little crushed."


    "Right, sorry about that."


    With a grunt, Kleven pushed himself off, using a hand on the floor of the carriage as leverage. He settled into his seat closer to the front of the coach, effectively switching places from where he''d been sitting at the back. He rolled his shoulders, hissing softly from where he''d smashed them against the wood of the carriage.


    "Are you okay?" Varen asked, clutching his arms and rubbing his thighs, sore from the sudden addition of Kleven''s weight. He felt extremely aware now that his companion''s back was so much broader than his own from their physical contact, and strangely, the thought gave him a sense of comfort.


    "I''ve had worse," Kleven said, his soft gaze locked on Caelie''s sleeping form. "We had a rough upbringing, and let''s just say I had to get good at taking hits to protect her."


    "Ah¡­" Varen mumbled, intrigued about the twins'' past now that Kleven had offered him a glimpse of it. He felt bad now for denying Caelie''s efforts, considering the fact that he was basically now in her shoes.


    Kleven nodded but said nothing, still looking wistfully over his sister as she slumbered peacefully.


    "You''re very much unlike my older step-brother," Varen offered hesitantly, wanting to break the silence but at the same time anxious speaking about his family. "Draeon was the exact opposite. He treated me like I didn''t exist. Most of them did, actually."


    Kleven nodded again, an understanding smile on his lips. "We all have ghosts in our pasts, eh?" He paused for a second, then added, "If Caelie''s bothering you with her questions, I''ll tell her to stop once she wakes."


    "No, I think I''ll be up for sharing it with you guys soon," Varen shook his head, the words coming out before he could think over the offer. "I¡­ just need a little more time to get comfortable with the idea, if that makes any sense."


    No one other than Eden and his ex-family knew of his past, and Varen had never even considered revealing it to another before. For some reason, however, he felt like he could lay any secret upon Kleven, and the man wouldn''t judge him or speak to another soul about it. They were the same age, but Varen felt extremely immature in comparison.


    "If you''re sure," shrugged Kleven. He continued with a laugh, "Let''s not tell Caelie of this conversation, though. She''ll throw a fit if she finds out that you told me your step-brother''s name before she could prise it out from you."


    "Agreed," said Varen, adding to the laughter with his own.


    A tired yawn came on, and Varen raised his hand to cover his open mouth out of politeness. The cool weather and the light swaying of their carriage certainly didn''t help, and he felt his eyelids grow heavier by the second.


    "Take a rest," Kleven suggested, Varen''s drowsiness apparent. He reached over and tugged on the rear carriage flaps, unfurling them and obscuring them to the world outside. "There''s really not much else to do."


    "Yeah¡­" Varen mumbled in agreement. He leant back against the carriage, closing his eyes, and sleep soon took him.


    xxxxx


    Zharin studied the missive before him, his lips curved in an unsatisfied frown as he dwelled on its contents. It threatened to overturn the balance of power amongst the Three Kingdoms, and it annoyed him to no end. The threat of Vaettir on their borders and the possibility of another Cataclysm was more than enough for him to worry about, much less war between fellow men. Though, he was sure the other Kingdoms weren''t as concerned about the first two factors as compared to the Ivolas Kingdom.


    The Kingdom of Va''droga offered in their missive the choice of vassalage, and Zharin had no misconceptions of what would happen if his Kingdom refused. The memorandum was even signed off with ''The Va''drogan Empire''! Arrogant bastards. It was a year before the 200th anniversary of the current Three Kingdoms too. Perhaps the Va''drogan King saw fit to unite the lands of Ivolas with his own as a present to himself.


    In the event of war, Zharin was under no illusion that the Va''drogan forces would utterly annihilate the Ivolan forces in battle. The Ivolas Kingdom held the strength of the best mages in the land, rare enough as they were, but even the power of the Majstoria could only go so far. A full out war would be mainly fought with footsoldiers, and that shifted the advantage to the Va''drogan side.


    The army the men of the north fielded was far superior to their own, nearly three times as large and better trained. War and battle was the specialty of theirs, after all, and it was little wonder that their lands were the safest from the Vaettir.


    Similarly, the Auhrenth Kingdom had safe borders, though it fielded the smallest standing army amongst them. The merchant kingdom of the west lived for trade, and as such had the largest concentration of skilled mercenary groups and guilds, loyal to the coin of their employers.


    Zharin sighed heavily, his tireless mask off for the moment. The greatest chance they had of survival outside of submitting to the Va''drogans as subjects in their ''Empire'' was to ally with the Auhrenths. War would only affect the merchant kingdom''s trade, after all. That was unless the Auhrenths had already agreed to supply the Va''drogans in their war¡­ which was a troubling thought indeed.


    Still, Zharin could think of one trump card ¨C knowledge of the impending Cataclysm. If the prophecy was true, then the Ivolas Kingdom could simply hunker down and prepare for it. There would still be casualties, that went without any doubt, but they would suffer fewer losses than the other unprepared Kingdoms. It would be a monumental task to convince the Council and the King to utilise such a strategy, however, unless there was irrefutable evidence.


    He could only hope that the Ashtar boy''s investigations bore fruit.

 Chapter 3

    Chapter 3


    It was early in the afternoon when Varen woke again.


    The roads were no longer quiet like when they had first left the capital, with scores of carriages, wagons and people on foot travelling alongside them in both directions. A few guards were patrolling the roads as well, though their role was mainly ceremonial, a show to raise the general populace''s confidence in the Kingdom''s military. The guards only patrolled the frequently used roads within the Kingdom, whereas the real dangers that travellers faced were on the side roads, where feral beasts and bandits roamed. It was for that reason that those who could afford it hired mercenaries to protect them on their travels.


    Varen stretched his arms and legs, letting out a small moan of contentment as he felt his knee and elbow joints crack and pop. Sleeping in a seated position wasn''t all that comfortable, but it had been a long while since he''d had the chance to sleep in, in a loose sense of the phrase. Even on weekends he was unable to languish in bed, since Eden''s inn was even busier then.


    "You''re finally awake!" Caelie piped up from opposite him. She was still lying down on her seat, her hands pressed together on her stomach as she made patterns with her fingers.


    "Yeah, any idea where we are now?" Varen answered. A look to his left revealed that Kleven was asleep, with his brows furrowed and arms folded across his chest.


    "Absolutely no idea," she grinned. "We did pass through a town a while back, I think. I took a peek when I woke up and saw it in the distance behind us."


    "Hmm¡­" hummed Varen. He reached into his bag beside him and fished around, pulling out a folded and slightly crumpled map. "That might have been the town of Axminnar, if it''s the first one we''ve passed." He couldn''t tell for sure, since neither of them had been awake to see if their ride had cut across other landmarks.


    "How far is that from Lakenside?"


    "Very."


    Caelie let out an audible groan, "I''m gonna die of boredom before we come anywhere close! If my limbs don''t atrophy before that¡­"


    "I''m sure the horses need rest, so we''ll get the chance to walk around when we stop for the night," Varen said, hopeful that he would get to escape his seat later. There really wasn''t much space for maneuverability in the coach''s tight confines.


    "Oh right, the horses! Did you notice that we''re on a driverless carriage? It''s so cool," Caelie gushed, sitting up and pushing open the front carriage flap to reveal the horses moving in tandem.


    "Yes, you were asleep when Kleven and I were trying to figure out how to work the horses," chuckled Varen, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden invasion of sunlight into the coach. A cool breeze bristled in through the opening, and he was glad that he''d kept his scarf and gloves on.


    Several minutes passed before Caelie spoke again, "This is unbelievably boring."


    "It really is," replied Varen in agreement. He could feel her staring right at him, and he averted his gaze slightly. Predictably, she started to grow restless as he pretended not to notice her, and he fought back a growing smile.


    The dam finally broke after another few minutes of silence, and she blurted out, "Do you have anything to pass the time with, Varen?"


    "I''ve got a few books¡ª"


    "What kind of books are they?"


    "Academical," shrugged Varen. He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out the few publications in his possession. "Magical Theory for Beginners, The Founding of the Ivolas Kingdom, The Unknown Territories¡­"


    Caelie''s nose scrunched up further with every title he rattled off. "I can''t believe you still keep those. We studied those so extensively during our time in the Academy¡­ even sitting as we are in silence is less boring than reading through their contents for the hundredth time!"


    "Oh? Is that so?" Varen smirked. Flipping open the first page of The Founding of the Ivolas Kingdom, he drew in a breath and began to read aloud, "The founding of our Kingdom was tumultuous and hard-won, not only on the field of battle, but also through the dominion of knowledge¡ª"


    She grabbed the tome before he could finish the sentence, closing it shut and clutching it tightly to her chest. Glaring at him, she said, "You''re not getting it back unless you promise not to do that again!"


    "Yes, yes, I promise," laughed Varen, and the book was returned to him begrudgingly. "What do you have in mind then? Since you''re so bored."


    The blonde girl''s eyes focused in thought for several moments. "Oh, how about a game? Where we take turns to ask each other whatever we want?"


    "Sounds like a ploy to get to know more about my past," Varen pointed out, bemused.


    A look of melancholy crossed her features, and Caelie whispered just loud enough for Varen to hear, "I could tell you about ours as well¡­"


    Varen found himself unable to hide his surprise at her reaction as he stared at her, but it was Caelie''s turn to avoid eye contact, her blue eyes fixed on the floor of the carriage. He''d meant to subtly deflect her intentions jokingly, but he had expected her to pout and grumble like she did usually.


    "Are you¡­ sure? What about Kleven?" Varen asked tentatively after a moment''s pause, shifting to glance at the sleeping blond. "Will he be okay with that?"


    "I¡­ I don''t know, we''ve never told anyone of our background before¡­ But, Kleven''s too protective of me, and I want to make a decision myself, for once," Caelie admitted with a sigh, her shoulders slumped. "It''s just, I thought it would be good for us to swap stories, to let it out to a friend who understands. When the Head Majstor brought your family up, your reaction was just like ours when someone brings up our family, and it struck a chord with me. I''m sorry if I''ve been annoying about it¡­"


    Varen stayed silent as he thought on what she''d said. He recalled their interaction with the Head Majstor ¨C had his reaction really been that obvious? Well-meaning strangers and acquaintances at work, the inn and the Academy had asked about his family over the years. Even Eden had when they first met, and Varen liked to think that he''d learnt to put on a strong face. His heart sank at the realisation that he might not have been that subtle about how much the subject still disarmed him.


    "Varen?" Caelie asked nervously, and it seemed like she''d been saying something.


    "Sorry¡­ I just spaced out there for a second," Varen smiled wearily at her. "What were you saying?"


    "If you don''t feel up to it then I''ll stop," she repeated, twiddling her fingers together. "Honestly, I don''t even know if I''m up to sharing our past myself now. It was all just a selfish idea to begin with."


    Varen shook his head. He took a quick look at the still asleep Kleven, reminded of the conversation he''d had with the blonde earlier that morning. "No, I think you''re right¡­ Perhaps it would be better for us to share our stories with one another. After all, we''re¡­ friends, and friends support each other, right?"


    He hesitated slightly as he spoke the last sentence, and was relieved to see Caelie''s eyes light up. "That''s right! What else are friends for?" she said, her voice slowly returning to its usual bubbliness. Her mouth opened to speak again, but she was quickly interrupted by a low growl emanating from her stomach.


    The abrupt sound shattered the serious tone of their conversation, and Varen couldn''t help but burst out into uproarious laughter.


    "I''ll see what we have to eat," Varen said between mirthful breaths as Caelie''s tanned cheeks reddened, "while you wake Kleven up so we can talk, alright?"


    xxxxx


    Varen nibbled on the piece of dried meat, which was all they were going to be having until they reached Lakenside. It wasn''t much, but then again he was used to eating small meals in the first place. Not to mention the fact that he had no complaints about the taste.


    "So¡­ how do we go about this?" Caelie asked, having already devoured her share of the meat and washing it down with some water. She looked between her two male companions, nervous about the upcoming topic of conversation.


    Her twin shrugged, "It was your idea, sis." It hadn''t taken much to convince him, especially once Caelie mentioned that she was fine with doing all the talking. "Like I said, I''m fine with sharing our story with Varen, but you started it."


    "Let me start it off then," Varen coughed, adding under his breath, "before I chicken out of it¡­" The twins focused their attention on him, and he took a deep breath. "H-have you guys heard of the Crowen family?"


    They nodded, and Kleven asked, "The family of lesser nobles?"


    "Exactly that, but don''t let them hear you say it," chuckled Varen, unable to agree more with Kleven''s apt description. "When I was ten, my mother passed away due to an illness. Although we lived all our lives in the capital where the best doctors are, we were poor then, and my father couldn''t afford the treatment. After my mother died, he became a changed man. Somehow or rather, he ended up getting married just months after the funeral to the heiress of the Crowen family, who had been recently widowed as well."


    He paused and found that the twins were listening with rapt attention. "And you know how nobles are, always obsessed with something. The Crowen family''s only claim to fame was that they produced a powerful mage in every generation, which they already had. My older step-brother by five years, Draeon Crowen. Have you heard of him? His initiation ceremony into the Majstoria was quite a grand affair."


    "No," Caelie chuckled softly, "we weren''t anywhere near the capital at that point in time, but that can wait till you finish."


    Varen smiled at her. "Well, the word to describe Draeon would be genius. At sixteen, he was the best mage in his cohort at the Academy. A few months after the marriage, one of the Crowen elders sensed some latent magic in me. So, eager to raise the family''s prestige, the elders hired mages to train me. They wanted another prodigy, even if I wasn''t related by blood, and after months of training, they tested me. Being a mage sounded like a fun idea, and the time I spent on it allowed me to channel my grief elsewhere. It didn''t go very well, however ¨C all I am capable of is this."


    The words appeared in his mind, and Varen chanted the incantation, willing the small flame into existence.


    Kleven raised an eyebrow at the sight, his reaction more subdued than his sister''s wide-eyed staring. "An affinity to fire, eh? The most common manifestation of one''s magic, but still impressive nonetheless. Most people don''t even have the ability to use magic, remember?"


    "I know, Kleven, but this smidgen of power is basically useless. All I can do is light a torch, candle or lamp. It''s worse that I''m limited to a single element too. Most mages are able to invoke multiple other forms of magic at the basic level at the very least ¨C nothing else responds to me, however," Varen laughed deprecatingly, the sound slightly bitter. "The Crowens'' started treating me like I didn''t exist after that. Well, I say that, but there wasn''t really much interaction before, anyway. What hurt more was the fact that my father acted the exact same way as the family did."


    "Take your time, Varen," Kleven said, clapping a hand onto his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.


    Varen gave the blond a thankful nod, his nose flaring as he took deep breaths. His heart was beating rapidly as old emotions were dragged up to the surface, and he swallowed before continuing, "Two years later, when I was twelve, Draeon had already risen to gain a place in the Majstoria. He went missing on his third month after his official debut. I must admit, I felt a twinge of happiness when I heard the news, and I''ve never lost any sleep over that. The family took it harder than I did, of course, and my step-mother banished me from the clan for being a disgrace, while my father looked on in disdain."


    The last sentence came out in a deep growl. Varen blinked, shocked at the sound he''d made, and found that his eyes were wet. A tear streamed down his cheek, and he wiped it dry with the sleeve of his robe. "And here I thought I''d gotten over it," he mumbled. How long had it been since he last cried? Years, if his memory served. He''d cried in his father''s arms when his mother left the world, and he''d cried alone in an alleyway during the winter when he''d been disowned, huddled in his own arms for warmth.


    That was the very last time he''d shed tears. When Eden found him, he was simply too exhausted and too numb to cry any more, his tears frozen to his grimy face. The memory returned with a vengeance, and he choked back a sob as his eyes welled up again.


    A small whimper came from the seat across him, drawing Varen from his not-so-pleasant recollection. He froze when he realised someone was stroking his back, only relaxing when he saw that it was Kleven that was doing so. Caelie was clutching his left hand, soft whimpers escaping her lips as she did her best to hold back tears. The physical contact with the twins helped calm him down, and Varen said with a sniffle and a wry smile, "There''s a happy ending to my story. An inn owner in the city, Eden, found me and took me in. She clothed me, fed me, and paid for my education. I did my best in the Academy and managed to scrape by with a scholarship, and here we are now. I owe her everything."


    He paused for a moment, sniffling again. "If¡­ no, when we get back, Eden wants to meet you guys. I think you two will love her, her apple pies are delicious!"


    "It would be our pleasure," Kleven replied in place of his sister, who was still indisposed.


    Varen nodded, subconsciously leaning toward Kleven, who was still stroking and patting his back like a parent would when their child cried. It reminded him terribly of his mother, and a warmth in his chest grew as his tears dried up. They were good memories.


    Caelie too had calmed herself, though her hand was still tightly attached to his. She gave him a deep look of understanding, and he smiled warmly back at her. Now that his past was revealed, Varen was eager to hear the twins'' background too, and he urged with a cheeky grin, "Come on, we''ve stopped crying, so now it''s your turn to tell your story."


    The petite blonde wiped her now red eyes and looked to her brother, who gave her a nod, and she began, "Well, our father was a career criminal, and our mother was a drunkard. We grew up in the town of Mirnas¡­"


    "The bandit town?" That came as a surprise to Varen, but now he understood why Kleven mentioned that they''d had a rough upbringing.


    "Mhm. It was called the bandit town, as you know, because it was the centre of all crime for miles around, and our father ruled it with an iron fist. I say our mother was a drunkard, but we''ve never actually met her. Everything we know of her was from what our father told us."


    She paused for a second, and Varen realised that Kleven had stopped his previous action. The male twin had his hands steepled together with his elbows resting on his knees, and Varen noticed that his brows were furrowed above closed eyes. For some reason, Varen felt it only natural to return the favor. Reaching over, he rested an open palm on Kleven''s back.


    Caelie continued, a slight tremor in her voice, "Well, I''m sure you know what happened to the town. Eventually the military was sent in to subdue our father. The battle was messy, and there were quite a few civilian casualties, some of them from the hostages that our father''s men had taken. When it was over, we were left behind by ourselves in Mirnas. We were twelve years old then as well, actually. The people¡­ weren''t exactly pleased to have us around, as you might expect, and without our father''s presence to shield us, they began to harass us every day."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Kleven," she reached over with her free hand to squeeze her brother''s arms, eliciting no response, "protected me every single time. They would throw garbage at us, and rough us up occasionally¡­"


    "They were cowards," Varen half-spat, surprised at his sudden anger.


    "They were," Kleven said coldly, his eyes still shut, and Caelie nodded weakly.


    "We survived that way for over a year. One day, one of our father''s lieutenants found us. He told us that our father had been sentenced to life imprisonment in the lowest levels of the palace dungeons, never to see the light of day again. He also told us that our father had apparently managed to leave us some money, more than enough for us to live our lives with. It was kept in a bank two towns over, but before the lieutenant could escort us out of Mirnas, the people found out that he was one of our father''s men. They¡­ they lynched him, and we managed to escape while the people were distracted."


    Her fingers clenched around Varen''s hand, and she exhaled slowly. "Long story short, we''re pretty well off now."


    Both brother and sister visibly relaxed as the latter finished their story. "So, what do you think, Varen?" Caelie asked, her voice hopeful.


    "Your story''s got a much better ending than mine," joked Varen in a bid to ease everyone''s feeling after such a heartfelt session. It was successful, and Caelie grinned widely, playfully smacking him on the arm. Kleven smiled too, bringing his hand back onto Varen''s shoulder, and the two boys held each other in a half hug.


    "In all seriousness, I think we made the right choice, letting it out to one another," Varen went on sincerely. "It was¡­ cathartic, and I think the three of us needed it. I definitely needed it. Thank you. I''m extremely glad that the two of you are with me on this journey, and if the world is to end, then I''d be happy to finish it by your sides."


    Caelie beamed radiantly, and she jumped up to pull her companions in for a group embrace. "What else are friends for, right?"


    xxxxx


    The three Junior Archivists approached a roadside camp as the sky''s light began to fade. Varen was right about the horses needing to rest and eat, even if they were magically enhanced animals. They just needed less of it, according to Kleven, which was why they were so highly prized. So as the roads slowly emptied out with travellers reaching their destinations or simply stopping for the day, their party of three decided to do the same.


    "Greetings!" a stocky man with a shock of grey hair called out as they disembarked from the coach. He was seated by a campfire, and his eyes flitted over their similarly grey coloured attire as they came closer. A moment passed, and he exclaimed with a welcoming grin. "Oh! You''re Archivists! Come, come, warm yourselves by the fire, make yourselves at home!"


    "Good evening, sir," Varen greeted with a bow. "We''re just Junior Archivists, actually," he corrected the man sheepishly, taking a seat on the grassy earth before the fire, with the twins following suit. He glanced round the camp and found it was sparse. In fact, there didn''t seem to be anyone else, save for another man leaning on the one carriage nearby with a spear in hand.


    "All the same, young man. You do the Kingdom''s work, and that''s plenty enough. The other two Kingdoms would think nothing of us, if not for our Archives," the man said, his pride in their work apparent. "Where are my manners? Name''s Dorian, humble weaponsmith, and that''s my hired man Arden over there."


    "I''m Varen, and my companions are Kleven and Caelie."


    "Well met! Have you youngins eaten?" Dorian asked, gesturing to the small pot that hung over the campfire.


    "Does dried meat count?" uttered Kleven, and Dorian recoiled in mock horror.


    "It certainly does not!" the older man boomed. Standing, he said, "Give me just one moment."


    Marching over to his own carriage, Dorian retrieved a wooden box. He set it down in front of the three of them, before hoisting the pot off the the fire and setting it onto the surface of the box. Producing three wooden spoons, he passed them over to the younger Archivists.


    "Here, it''s some stew I made just now. I was keeping it warm just in case any travellers such as yourselves came by," he grinned, setting his hands onto his hips. "Arden and I have had our share, so feel free to finish the rest of it."


    "Thank you, sir," Varen said politely as he scooped up a spoonful of the stew and waited for it to cool. "We were really dreading the idea of having nothing but dried meat the entire way."


    He certainly hadn''t minded the meat at first, but it just hadn''t felt as filling after their emotional sharing session. Caelie certainly shared his sentiment, seeing how she was staring ravenously at the meal before her as she impatiently allowed it to cool as well.


    "Anytime. And just feel free to call me by name, ''sir'' is much too formal for me. Just makes me feel old," Dorian chuckled. He took a seat and watched them eat for a few moments, before asking, "So where are you youngins headed? Dig site?"


    "Yes, south into the Unknown Territories. It''s our first time out," Kleven said in between mouthfuls.


    "Oh? Without guards?" the weaponsmith questioned, a frown settling onto his face.


    "Oh no, we''re actually on our way to Lakenside for the moment, with instructions to meet with the town''s Chief. He''s supposed to have a mercenary group prepared for us there," Varen clarified swiftly. He idly fingered the letter in his pocket, recalling the Head Majstor''s orders within. They''d only opened the letter prior to their stopping at the campsite, so its contents were still fresh in his mind.


    "And here I was wondering what your superiors were doing, sending you youngins out into the field, unescorted, with nothing but dried meat as sustenance," Dorian tutted, heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief.


    "They work us hard, but I don''t think they''re that cruel," Varen said jokingly, eliciting a laugh from the group.


    "What about you, Mr Dorian? Where are you headed?" Caelie asked, a satisfied look upon her face, having finished her only proper meal of the day.


    "Why, lassie, I''m headed up north myself to deliver my cache of weapons. The northmen have been amassing weapons recently ¨C especially firearms ¨C probably for another mass culling of the northern Vaettir population. It''s a long journey, but it pays well enough for me to retire."


    "You make guns too? You''re sanctioned then?" Varen noted.


    Firearms were a relatively new invention in the past two decades, and they had been dubbed ''the everyman''s firestave''. They took considerably less training than bows to use, and once mastered, had the killing power of a mid-tier mage. To prevent the technology from overshadowing mages in battle, the Council had banned the smithing of firearms unless one paid an extravagant cost for a license.


    "Aye, the license ate a huge hole in my coin pouch, but it was worth it. Took but two years for that investment to come round," Dorian remarked. "Want to see my work? I''ve got the latest designs."


    The three of them nodded, and Dorian retreated to his carriage once again. After a few minutes, he returned with a firearm in hand. The gun was nearly as tall as Caelie in length, with a beautiful flowing pattern carved along its length, and the older man flushed with pride as he held it before them.


    "This is a flintlock rifle. Grooves have been carved into the barrel interior, which allows it to shoot further, and more accurately. Still hits just as hard as a normal musket though, enough to penetrate plate armour if the target is within range."


    "That''s¡­ impressive," said Varen, and Kleven echoed the thought.


    "A line of these firing in turn could probably decimate bigger Vaettir, not to mention men. If only the Council wasn''t so restrictive with them, I imagine our lands would be much safer if these were more easily available."


    "If only," Dorian agreed with a sigh. "It would be nice if the Council got their fucking heads out of their arses and looked at the bigger picture." He quickly tacked on, "Pardon my language."


    "It''s alright," Caelie giggled at this sudden swearing. "We''re all adults here."


    "You three are barely half my age," the older weaponsmith guffawed, the corners of his mouth curling up in a sly smile. "Allow an old man some sense of decorum."


    A loud howl echoed in the distance before they could continue their conversation, and Varen immediately sat up straight, his hairs standing on end. Dorian turned to his guard and asked, "Arden?"


    The spear wielding mercenary simply grunted and calmed them with a wave of his hand. "Feral wolves. We''ll be fine, they won''t come any closer to the roads."


    "Well then," Dorian said. "It''s getting late, and we should all get some rest. We''ve all got long journeys ahead of us."


    "R-right, good night then," Varen stammered, his nerves still frayed from the wolves'' sudden baying. Kleven clapped a hand on his back in reassurance as they made their way back to their own carriage.


    "Don''t worry bout a thing, Arden will be keeping watch all night," added Dorian, and the hired guard grunted again, thought it did little to diminish Varen''s nervousness.


    xxxxx


    "Varen! Wake up!" Caelie hissed, jolting him awake.


    A cursory glance out of the coach revealed that it was still dark out, and Varen rubbed his eyes nervously. Kleven was no longer beside him in the carriage, and he asked, "What''s happening?"


    "The wolves," she whispered hastily, "they''re close."


    "Didn''t Dorian''s man say that they wouldn''t come near the roads?"


    "Arden doesn''t know either, he insists that he''s never seen them act like this!"


    "W-what do we do now?" gulped Varen as his heart started to pound in his ears.


    "We have to get out and help," Caelie stressed, pulling him to his feet. "Move slow, we don''t want to startle the beasts."


    With anxious but purposefully unhurried motions, the two of them exited the carriage and made their way over to the campfire where the rest were gathered. Their whole area seemed to be surrounded by wolves, and Varen swallowed again, resisting the urge to panic.


    Dorian raised a finger to his lips as he saw them approach, before feeding the fire with some dry branches. The flames crackled and rose higher, but the beasts were undeterred, still lingering in the shadows by the edge of the fire''s light.


    "I''ve never seen them behave so boldly, and in such large numbers," Arden muttered, his grip tightening visibly around the shaft of his spear. "When we get to the next town, old man, you''re hiring more guards."


    "No argument there," agreed Dorian. "But let''s not worry about that now. Are you able to fend them off?"


    "If you''re fine with losing the horses and the cargo, as well as sustaining heavy injuries¡­ maybe. A very big maybe."


    "Right, not an option then," the weaponsmith said, turning to the three of them. "Can either of you fight?"


    "I can," the twins replied simultaneously. Kleven glared at Caelie disapprovingly, and she quickly added on, "Though I''m better at patching people up¡­"


    "Okay. Is a shortsword fine with you?" Dorian asked after momentarily studying Kleven''s build. Kleven nodded, and the older man continued, "I''ll get a dagger for the little lady as well, just in case. What about you, Varen?"


    "I d-don''t know how," Varen admitted, his gaze dancing around the shadows, shaking a little as he found feral wolves in every corner. It came as no surprise to him that the Trevek twins could fight, especially after hearing about their past, but he had no such strength, having grown up under relative safety in the capital all his life. The closest he''d ever been in a physical fight was when he''d been bullied for being poor, back when his family was still whole, and even then he had been too weak to retaliate.


    "Hmm, no worries, I''ve got just the weapon for someone with absolutely no combat training. Wait here."


    The weaponsmith stalked over to his carriage and returned promptly with a few items in hand. He handed a sheathed sword to Kleven, then passed a scabbardless straight bladed dagger to his twin. He then knelt and placed the remaining items on the ground ¨C four leather vests, two intricately carved flintlock pistols, another dagger, a patterned flintlock rifle like the one he had showed them before, as well as a few small cloth sacks. It was a small armoury, and Varen could only wonder how many more weapons Dorian had in the back of his wagon.


    "Put on the vests," Dorian instructed, swiftly putting his own on. A wolf took a step closer into the campfire''s light, growling, and a few others did the same, inflamed by their kin''s courage. Varen jumped slightly at the movement, suddenly too scared to breathe.


    "It''s okay, Varen, we''re here," Caelie said softly, grabbing his hand, and Varen forced himself to take a deep breath. He concentrated on Kleven''s broad back before him, the blond male facing away from them to keep an eye on the wolves, and it allowed him to regain his composure.


    Kleven tilted his head to give Varen a stoic nod, while Dorian moved closer and placed a hand onto the latter''s shoulder as well. "That''s right, lad, you have to keep your wits about you in situations like this. Keep that in mind, it''ll be like this at every moment when you''re out in the Unknown. Come, I''ll show you how to use the rifle."


    Varen huffed as the sudden weight of the firearm was thrust into his arms ¨C it wasn''t that heavy, but he hadn''t expected it to weigh as much as it did. The weaponsmith then placed three small sacks on the ground before him.


    "First things first; ammunition, gunpowder, and firing paper," Dorian said, pointing out the contents of each pouch. "The three most important things you''ll need. I''ve got about thirty shots for you in there. Now, to load it. I''ll say it, you do it, alright? Pay attention, I don''t think we''ll have time for me to tell you this more than once."


    "Half-cock the hammer," Dorian motioned for Varen to pull the mechanism on the gun halfway. He then gestured for Varen to hold the rifle perpendicular to the ground, with its butt on the floor. "Next, toss a pinch of gunpowder down into the barrel. With me so far?"


    Varen nodded, listening intently to commit the steps to memory. The older man continued, "Good. Now, grab a lead ball and wrap it in a piece of firing paper. See the thin rod attached beneath the barrel? Pull it out. It''s called a ram rod ¨C use it to ram the bullet into the barrel. There''s an indicator on the rod so you know how far you need to push the bullet in."


    Grunting, Varen pushed down on the ram rod, his muscled burning from the effort. It felt like the paper wrapped-bullet barely fit inside the barrel, and it took him a few tries before it was deep enough within the firearm''s interior.


    Dorian nodded his approval. "It''ll get easier with practice. Grab another pinch of gunpowder, and this time place it in the pan. It''s that little bit right in front of the hammer. Then, snap the steel, the frizzen ¨C it''s above the pan ¨C into place. Lastly, pull back the hammer all the way to fully cock it. That''s it. What do you think?"


    "It''s logical, very much unlike magic," concluded Varen, gazing at the loaded weapon in his hands and running through the steps again. "For magic, you have to chant the words that appear in your consciousness, and the words can change from time to time, depending on your intent in the moment¡­"


    "Aye. Magic''s unpredictable with no defined steps, whereas loading this gun is as easy as repeating the same actions over and over. Anyone could¡ª"


    A spine shivering howl filled the night air before Dorian could finish, and the first wolf leapt forward into the campfire''s light. Arden reacted immediately, skewering the beast upon his spear before it could attack, matting it''s silver fur with blood.


    "They''re attacking! Caelie, stay back!" Kleven shouted, much to his sister''s chagrin, throwing himself to the side as another wolf sprang off its hind legs towards him. He quickly recovered, whirling around to plant a kick on the wolf''s muzzle as it pounced at him again, stumbling slightly from the action. The wolf whimpered from the strike and slunk back into the shadows.


    "You okay?" Arden asked, and Kleven grunted in reply, "Just rusty."


    More of the wolf pack crept forward, circling around them much more cautiously than their previous brethren. They eyed their preys'' weapons warily, and Dorian snorted, "Hah, they''re right to fear my steel!"


    Reaching down, the weaponsmith picked up the extra dagger from the ground and handed it handle first to Varen. "Here, attached this to the front of the rifle. Much like mages, you''ll be vulnerable while reloading, or in close combat. It''ll help."


    "Oh," Dorian quickly added, "to shoot, just hold the gun straight, rest the butt of the rifle against your shoulder and aim down the barrel."


    "Right," Varen acknowledged, raising the firearm.


    "Wait, wait. Spread your legs, shoulder width apart, left leg forward since you''re right-handed. There, better. Remember to keep calm and regulate your breathing."


    Varen made the adjustments and took aim again, his breath hitching slightly as he stared at the mass of wolves now crawling out of the night''s shadows.


    "Kleven! On your right!" Caelie shouted out from behind him, and Varen swiveled on the spot to see a silver blur sprinting toward his taller companion. Kleven reacted swiftly, stepping back, but another wolf pounced forward, and he was forced to switch his attention to the more immediate threat.


    As the creature bore down upon Kleven, Varen steeled himself and pulled the trigger of his rifle. A deafening ''crack'' sounded out, and he flinched slightly as his ears began to ring. He took a step back as his shoulder absorbed the weapon''s recoil, coughing as the smell of burnt gunpowder invaded his nostrils. To his horror, the wolf was still moving, and Varen realised he''d missed. He watched helplessly as it neared Kleven and leapt off the ground with a snarl.


    Dorian''s pistols coughed before the wolf made contact, and it crumpled onto the ground next to Kleven''s feet. The blonde called out his thanks, stabbing his sword into the other wild animal''s head and twisting to face another that was moving in his direction, before the light in the first''s eyes had faded.


    "Don''t worry, lad, it''s only natural to miss," grinned the older man, kneeling and already in the process of reloading his pistols. "You''ve still got twenty nine shots, let''s make them count."


    Nodding, Varen followed suit and began reloading his rifle as swiftly as he could. He rose once he was done, just in time to see Arden impale one of the silver-furred beasts that was nipping at Kleven''s heels. Dorian''s pistols barked once again by his side, and two wolves collapsed with strangled yelps. Holding his breath, Varen took aim and squeezed the trigger. His eyes widened as a wolf at the edge of the pack crashed into the dirt, a victim of his bullet.


    Well, that was something¡­ It wasn''t the one Varen had been aiming for, but he supposed he couldn''t argue with the results. He knelt again and started to reload, nearly fumbling from the excitement of his first successful shot. It was definitely much more exhilarating than sitting behind a desk all day, even taking into account the risk of them not surviving the night.


    Steel flashed and blood flew as they fought for what seemed like hours, and Arden and Kleven were starting to look the worse for wear. Kleven especially, the lesser skilled of the two, had received the short end of the stick. His robes were torn, and numerous scratches adorned his arms and legs, though thankfully none too deep. Even Caelie had not gone uninjured, sporting a bite mark from when she''d crept forward to finish off a few limping wolves with her dagger.


    "It''s like the whole fucking wolf population''s shown up tonight," Arden cursed through ragged breaths. He leant on his spear as the beasts granted him a second''s reprieve, before spinning around and slapping one away with the butt of his spear as it dashed forward.


    The entire area smelt of gunpowder as Dorian and Varen took shot after shot. Another pair of the pack fell prey to the weaponsmith''s pistols, and he yelled out, "You know what, if we survive this night, the three of you can keep the weapons! Varen! How many more bullets do you have left?"


    "Five!" came his reply as a ''crack'' rang out. "Damn it, another miss! Four left!"


    Varen''s hands moved unerringly as he poured another pinch of gunpowder down the rifle''s barrel. He grabbed a bullet with his fingers, but quickly dropped it back into the pouch as a scream filled the air.


    "Caelie!" Kleven bellowed, turning in her direction. His twin was sprawled out on the ground, a monstrous wolf atop her. Her knife was on the ground as well, just out of her reach. He started towards her, but another one of the beasts took advantage of the distraction and slammed into him, throwing him to the ground.


    With a guttural cry, Varen charged toward the creature, his bayoneted rifle held out before him. The blade pierced deep into its side, and the wolf yelped as Varen followed through, using his momentum to push its dense weight off Caelie.


    "You alright¡ª"


    The words had barely left Varen''s mouth when a savage snarl came from his left. A large force crashed into his side and he gasped as he was sent flying. His head slammed against the ground, blurring his vision, and the last thing he saw was an arrow piercing his attacker''s hide before blackness overtook him.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4


    The ground shook seismically, rending the earth in twain. Magical storms thundered, and lightning struck relentlessly, bursting trees into splinters and turning forests into seas of fire. Bodies of water bubbled, and torrential rain poured. Hailstones the size of torsos tore through buildings, crushing wood and stone alike.


    Screams filled the air as steel clashed, and enough blood spilled to stain entire fields red. Boots pounded on the dirt, turning the soil over. Feral snarls filled the air, followed by short yelps and whimpers. Whimpers¡­?


    "Hah!" Varen jolted back into the land of the living with a shout, drawing in a long, audible breath. "Wha¡ª" A lance of hot pain surged through his mouth as he tried to speak, and he tasted iron.


    "Easy, Varen, it seems you bit your tongue pretty hard when you landed. It''s going to sting for a while," Kleven said from his left. Caelie was seated by his side, expertly tending to her brother''s wounds. Claw marks were raked across the blond''s leather armour, adding to his already sorry sight.


    Though, Varen was sure he looked much more pathetic than his companion at the moment. The sounds of combat still surrounded them, and he tried unsuccessfully to push himself into a seated position to see what was going on. His vision swam as soon as his head left the ground, and the strength left his arms. Thankfully, Kleven caught him before his head could impact on the floor again.


    "We''re safe now, soldiers on patrol came by. Dorian and Arden are helping them to finish off the remaining wolves," reassured Caelie, correctly guessing what Varen had been about to ask before his bout of dizziness. She dabbed at one of Kleven''s many minor lacerations with a cloth, and he hissed from the pain.


    Varen sighed in relief at the good news, allowing his rarely used muscles to relax. His entire body ached from the tension of combat, his right shoulder especially so from where he had absorbed the energy of his shots. Tuning out the sounds of battle, he stared up at the stars in the night sky.


    "You know," he managed to eke out, wincing with each word, "when I said I''d be glad to serve the end by your sides¡­ I hadn''t meant it to be quite so soon."


    "It would have been a pretty sad continuation of our stories, dying to wild wolves after all we''ve been through," Kleven said mirthfully. "And like Dorian said, we''ll be in much worse situations out there. We''ll have to be prepared mentally, if not physically."


    "But that''s why we''re having professionals escort us right? To the place where Varen''s step-brother went missing," Caelie pointed out. "We were just unprepared and outnumbered tonight."


    "That''s the thing, Caelie. Out there, we''ll always be outnumbered, and I don''t doubt that there will be times where we''ll be caught unprepared," stated Kleven, and Varen was inclined to agree, albeit silently, not wanting to aggravate his swollen tongue any further.


    Caelie simply pressed harder into another of Kleven''s wounds, causing him to grimace in pain, and Varen was suddenly thankful that he hadn''t been able to articulate his agreement. "I know, but you''re always such a pessimist," the blonde girl muttered.


    Dorian strode over before anyone could say anything else, and Varen realised that the sounds of the wolves had died out, with only the clanging of weapons and armour in movement remaining. "The surviving wolves have fled," he said, collapsing onto the ground beside them with a weary grin. "Pretty heroic of you there, lad, saving the damsel in distress."


    Varen blushed slightly from the compliment, finding enough strength to give Dorian and Caelie a thumbs up. Dorian threw his head back in a laugh at the wordless response, but the petite blonde shot Varen a look that showed that she hadn''t found it quite so amusing, before her gaze softened, and she silently mouthed her thanks.


    "Let loose a little, lassie, we live to see another day!" crowed Dorian, his eyes lighting up with pride. "I meant what I said about giving you three those weapons. The vests, too. They have been christened in battle, and I can think of no one more suitable as their owners."


    "No spare ammo for you though, Varen," the weaponsmith added with a smirk. "I''d be a poor businessman if I simply gave things away, wouldn''t I?"


    "That might be trouble if we get into another fight," Kleven noted, speaking for Varen, and the latter gave him a grateful smile. "I don''t suppose we could change your mind about that?"


    "No, but I didn''t say I wouldn''t be up for selling it, did I? Standard market price, of course," Dorian mused, giving them a sly wink. "Feel free to peruse my other wares too. They''ll be of better quality than anything you can find in the towns, and I bet my reputation on that!"


    A snort escaped from Arden as the hired guard made his way over, having clearly heard their conversation. "What reputation? Dorian the womaniser and braggart? Dorian, the arrogant weaponsmith who overcharges for commissions?" the mercenary snickered, placing his bloody spear down as he too sat.


    "Oh? And who says that?" Dorian asked, leaning forward and baring his teeth. He looked angry, but the glint in his eyes revealed that he had taken no offence to Arden''s words.


    "Only everyone in town."


    "Well, I suppose I''ll have to change things when we return," jested Dorian, cracking his knuckles and giving them a shrug. "Luckily for those ungrateful bastards, I don''t plan to. I''m off to enjoy my retirement and live in excess after we finish the shipment."


    "Long as I get paid," Arden mock scowled. "And you better not think of reducing my payment just because we need to hire a few more hands, in case things go wrong again when we cross the border."


    "Hey, it''s your idea," said Dorian with raised palms.


    Arden glowered at his employer, before turning to the three Archivists. "Anyway, there''s lesser cause to worry now. The guardsmen have offered to escort us to our destinations ¨C well, as far as to the border, in our case. Two will be following us, and two with you lot. I''d personally be fine with a bigger escort party, but that''s all the space we have in both our carriages, without slowing down our journeys. Still, it''s never a bad idea to be prepared for a fight ¨C and if you buy something from Dorian, he just might pay me."


    Kleven nodded, "We''ll look at what you have in the morning then, Dorian. I''m thinking I might need a shield, with how rusty I am. Been years since I''ve been in a proper fight."


    Caelie was already nodding off, leaning into Kleven''s side, having finished wrapping her twin''s deeper wounds with bandages. Kleven took her by the shoulders and gently laid her down onto the grass before standing, his arms reaching for the stars as he stretched.


    "On another note, I''m famished, and I don''t think I''ll be able to sleep anytime soon," he said, glancing cheekily down at Varen. "Want anything to eat?"


    Varen''s eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently, horrified by the very thought of trying to eat. Even the action caused his swollen tongue to hurt, and he grasped his hands to his cheeks, wincing. He glared up accusingly at Kleven, the latter merely returning the intense gaze with a not so apologetic smile.


    "Lad, you are a cruel one!" Dorian cackled, his entire body trembling with laughter as he slapped his knees. Arden simply rolled his eyes at the scene before him, before laying down with his eyes closed and arms splayed out.


    It took the older man several moments to calm down, even with Varen shooting him venomous looks the entire time. A grin remained fixed to Dorian''s face once he had ceased his laughing fit, and he said, "I''m hungry too ¨C a fight really whets the appetite ¨C but I can''t be arsed to cook. What do you have in mind, lad?"


    Kleven shrugged, "Dried meat, though if you want some, I''m sure we can reach an agreeable price."


    "Oh ho ho, I see what you''re doing," Dorian quirked an eyebrow up, pushing himself to his feet as well.


    "Why, I''d be a poor businessman if I simply gave things away, wouldn''t I?" They walked off in search of the food, and soon their voices faded, leaving only the sounds of the campfire crackling and the milling of soldiers about the camp.


    Varen allowed himself a chuckle at their banter, his body stiffening momentarily from the numbing pain that ensued. He twisted his head to his sides, and found Caelie and Arden already fast asleep. Staring up once again into the night sky, he watched the stars for a small while, before closing his eyes and joining the two beside him in slumber.


    xxxxx


    Matilda Crowen sat straight and unmoving at her desk. Her long auburn hair cascaded past her shoulders, and she resisted the urge to run her fingers through it. It was a nervous tic of hers, a weakness, and she despised it. Her hatred of being perceived as frail ran deep, and she especially couldn''t afford to look weak before her soon-to-be arriving guest. She stared at the plain letter before her for the umpteenth time, pondering its contents.


    It promised the power and the chance at redeeming the family name that she wanted, that she craved, but it asked much at the same time. The heiress remembered when her first husband had died. It came as no surprise to anyone, considering the fact that the man had been weak from age and obesity. He had been disgusting, but necessary, as their arranged marriage raised the family''s social standing. Still, she hadn''t been able to stand his presence, and the poison she slipped into his food every other day accelerated his death.


    Thankfully, the family''s standing didn''t fall after that, for the marriage had produced a prodigy. Her son, Draeon, who had been one of the strongest magicians that Crowen blood had ever produced. The boy wasn''t the son of that disgusting man, of course ¨C he was the result of her trysts with many strong mages. She didn''t know which one of them was the child''s father, but it wasn''t like it mattered to her in the long run.


    Still, Matilda was human, and she had needs. She met with powerful men in secret, but strangely enough, none were able to satisfy her. Then, one day, she met him. He had been weak and pathetic, snivelling on the streets, but she could see the desire for power in his eyes. So she took him in, seduced him, and built him up into a strong and ruthless man. He came with a son, but she didn''t care for the runt, weak as he was.


    It seemed at that point that everything was going well for the Crowen family, before tragedy struck. Draeon''s disappearance ¨C right after his initiation too, when Majstoria members came under the most scrutiny by the public eye ¨C shook her world, and it destroyed all the prestige that she''d worked hard over the years to develop. In her rage, she banished her new husband''s son, refusing to have anyone sullying the family name with weakness.


    Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door, and she realised that she''d started to stroke her hair subconsciously. Berating herself in her mind, she clasped her hands together on her desk and called out, "Come in."


    The door opened and her husband marched in. Gone was the man who wore his emotions on his sleeve, replaced by sharp eyes, a near permanent frown and a fierceness that matched her own. It was the face of a man that would do anything to reach his goal, and she allowed herself a barely noticeable smile, the corners of her mouth curving up just a tad in triumph.


    "Matilda, our guest has arrived," he said tersely, and she nodded her acknowledgement.


    "Please send him in, Jedrek."


    Jedrek turned on his heels without another word to escort their guest in, and Matilda waited in silence. He returned promptly, and she steeled herself as the door opened once again.


    Standing, she greeted, "It is an honour for you to grace us with your presence, Ambassador Ky''ran."


    "Likewise," the green-robed ambassador said as he sauntered in. He waved her greeting off and immediately moved to take a seat, which Matilda quickly imitated. "I presume you have an answer for me, Lady Crowen? There are others I must speak too, and I''d appreciate it if we get straight to the point."


    "Others?" Matilda asked, and the ambassador frowned, clearly unsatisfied that she hadn''t provided him the answer he seeked post-haste.


    "Yes, other noble families, Lady Crowen," he snapped in annoyance. "You didn''t think you were the only ones we made an offer to, did you? Your family are merely lesser nobles in a lesser Kingdom, know your place! You should be grateful that the Empire has even considered you as an ally!"This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Matilda''s eye twitched as her rage built, but she kept it well-hidden, bowing her head and smiling apologetically at the man before her. "My most sincere apologies, Ambassador Ky''ran. I only meant to inquire the identity of our counterparts, so that we may work in tandem for the Empire''s sake."


    "That will not be necessary," Ky''ran said dismissively, slightly placated by her reply. "Simply play your part, and you will have a place in the Empire."


    "And what do we specifically have to do?" Jedrek asked flatly, and their guest spun round to look at him, apparently offended that someone other that the Crowen heiress had dared to speak.


    "Nothing, until instructed," the ambassador stated after a moment, addressing Matilda ¨C and no one else. He stood and made to leave, and with his back turned to them, he intoned, "For now, you are but mere pawns in our grand scheme, but when the Empire rules your lands and the Emperor has deemed your contributions worthy, then only will we speak as equals."


    The door closed quietly as Ky''ran left, and Matilda allowed her built up anger to show on her face. She gripped the side of her desk till her knuckles went white, and she hissed, "Damned yellow-eyes¡­ We will succeed, Jedrek. No matter what it takes. You know what to do?"


    Jedrek nodded, "I''ll find out who the other nobles are, and work out a plan to take them out of the picture. Will I have to take care of the elders?"


    "No, I will personally arrange for their¡­ acceptance. Go."


    The image of Jedrek''s exiled son came to mind as her husband left to perform his duties. The ambassador had treated them like trash, like they were the same as the boy, and the very connection irked her to the depths of her soul. Clenching her fists hard enough that her nails threatened to draw blood, she swore that she would find the runt again, if only to remind him of his place in society.


    xxxxx


    The stone walls of Lakenside loomed into view as the light of day had begun to fade. A lake lay to the east of the town, giving it its namesake, and the setting sun was reflected beautifully off the water''s surface. To its south, a flat plain stretched for miles, with the forests of the Unknown at its end. Armoured guards lined the ramparts and guard towers, with more standing watch at the gates, which was to be expected of a frontier town. Numerous torches were already lit on the walls in preparation of nightfall, when Vaettir tended to be most active.


    Varen''s party sat quietly in their carriage as it trundled along. Introductions had been made with their soldier escorts when they had parted from Dorian''s group, and while they had made small talk in the beginning, there just wasn''t much else to say after two days of consecutive travel. Thankfully, they hadn''t been waylaid by any feral beasts or other threats along the rest of their journey.


    "So¡­ have any of you been to a border town?" Julien, one of their escorts, spoke, his eyes darting conspicuously to where Caelie sat. To Varen''s surprise, Julien was younger than them by two years, and the teenager was by all accounts infatuated with the female blonde. A recurve bow sat on his lap, which went along with the quiver of arrows that was slung over his mail shirt. Leather gloves and greaves, accompanied by a bronze skullcap that sat upon a mop of brown hair completed his look.


    The young soldier''s armour, however, was subpar compared to their other escort''s superior armaments. Magnar was older than all of them, clearly evidence by his nearly-white hair and beard. A large, spiked warhammer leant on the carriage''s walls by his side, adding to his already battle-forged appearance. Looking out of the carriage at the town before them, Magnar grunted, "Yes."


    "What can we expect?" Caelie asked, and Julien gave a slight pout that exaggerated his boyish features, miffed that she hadn''t answered him directly.


    Magnar said nothing and simply pointed to the numerous scars on his face and arms, silencing the conversation.


    "That''s not very encouraging to our friends, especially when they''re headed out into the field," Julien pointed out after a few seconds, and Magnar stared him down, stating plainly, "I outrank you, son."


    "It wasn''t very encouraging, sir," Julien gulped, emphasising the last word. It elicited a giggle from Caelie, and the younger soldier beamed proudly at his deed.


    Magnar rolled his eyes, "They''re older than you, Private, and they know what they''re getting into. I see no need to sugar coat it." He looked over to Varen, who gave him a determined nod, eager to prove the older man''s point. Julien opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again when nothing came to mind.


    "Halt!" one of the gate guards commanded as they neared, and Kleven reached out to tug on the horses'' reins. The carriage ground to a stop, and the guard moved around to the rear of their coach to get a closer look at the occupants within. His eyes caught the three Archivists'' grey robes, and he asked, "Purpose of entry?"


    Varen handed the Head Majstor''s letter over, and the guard skimmed its contents before returning it with a satisfied nod. "Welcome to Lakenside, sir Archivist. You''ll find the Chief in the town hall, at the centre of town. Gaudiest building in town ¨C you won''t miss it. Hand this letter to the receptionist and you should be granted an audience. The Adventurer''s Guild is right next to it, when you''re done with the Chief."


    "Thank you," replied Varen, slightly cowed by the guard''s politeness as he placed the letter back in his bag. Really, they were just Junior Archivists¡­


    "What of the barracks, son?" Magnar questioned gruffly.


    "Southern quadrant of the town," the guard said, giving the older soldier a respectful nod. "You''ll find the Captain there."


    "Understood. Once we''ve stabled the carriage, Private Julien and I will report in to the ranking officer at the barracks," said Magnar. Julien seemed like he was about to protest parting with his new friends with such haste, but quietly hung his head in defeat when Magnar shot him a hard look, mumbling softly, "Loud and clear, sir¡­"


    Kleven tugged on the reins again to command their carriage steeds to move, and the guard ushered them through the already open gates. They''d barely made it fifty paces past the walls when a loud bugle sounded, and Kleven halted the horses, startled by the sudden racket.


    The guard from before immediately came running up from behind them, exclaiming, "My apologies, Archivists, but there''s an impending attack by Vaettir at the southern walls. I''m afraid your meeting with the Chief will have to wait. Right now, we''ll have to follow protocol and gather all non-combatants in the town centre. I''ll lead the way."


    The bugle sounded out again with a longer note, and Caelie asked aloud, "Should we help?"


    Magnar and Julien were already climbing out of the carriage with their weapons in hand, and Kleven turned expectantly to Varen, "What do you think?"


    Varen shrugged, "I don''t see why not, if we can." Grabbing his rifle and its accompanying pouches, Varen stumbled off the coach as well, much to the guard''s confusion.


    "I''ve never known any visiting Archivists to join in the town''s defence," the man admitted after a moment''s thought, "but I suppose you''re armed enough to qualify¡­"


    Caelie was the last person left in the carriage, and she moved to get off. Before she could descend its back step, however, Kleven said harshly, "What do you think you''re doing? You''re heading to the town centre, so you''re not getting off here."


    "What?! No way, I''m helping out as well!"


    She glared at her brother defiantly, but Kleven shook his head, his brows furrowed deeply in displeasure. "No. You''re not fighting, and that''s that."


    "Don''t you dare tell me what to do now¡ª"


    "U-uh, guys¡­ now''s not the time for an argument¡­" Varen coughed, and the petite blonde shifted her attention to him, fixing him with an accusing glare. She gripped her dagger threateningly, before throwing it into the back of the coach with an indignant cry.


    "You know what, fine! But when this is over, oh brother of mine, we are having a long, long talk."


    Magnar drove the pommel of his weapon into the ground before either of the twins could continue their argument, and he commanded, "Private Julien, escort Miss Caelie to the town centre and join us by the southern walls when you''re done. I will have you reported for desertion if I don''t see your mug in an hour, understood?"


    "Yes, sir!" Julien swallowed his acknowledgement nervously, quickly hurrying to the front of the coach to grab the horses'' reins as Caelie fumed silently.


    "Wait!" Varen called out as he remembered something. "Caelie, could you get the letter to the Chief in the meantime? Please? It''s in my bag."


    She simply scowled and untied the the carriage''s rear flaps, hiding her from their view. Varen took it as a hopeful yes.


    As the carriage was led down the street, Varen reached a hand to his blond companion''s shoulder. "Kleven¡­"


    "Not now, Varen," Kleven snapped, pushing Varen''s hand away. "Not now."


    "Right¡­" the guard finally spoke up, having stayed silent throughout the siblings'' harsh exchange of words. "Follow me."


    Varen stared worriedly at his companion''s back as the guard briskly led them through the city streets. He was nervous about the Vaettir attack, but the twins'' was more of a cause of concern at the moment. It hurt to see his two closest friends arguing like that.


    "Look, Varen, I''m sorry for snapping at you," Kleven said softly, slowing his pace to match Varen''s. Varen looked up at the blonde''s face, but the latter avoided his gaze, choosing instead to keep staring ahead at nothing in particular. "You''ve seen how Caelie is. Our father is out of the picture, and I have to be the one to protect her."


    "¡­She really dislikes it, being treated like a helpless child."


    "To me, that''s what she still is. She was an emotional crybaby when she was younger, and that image has never really left my mind, no matter how much we''ve grown¡­"


    "But she has. Besides, I really don''t like watching the two of you fight."


    "I know," Kleven chuckled drily, "it''s very obvious. I''ll settle things after this, let''s worry about the battle for now."


    The taller blond stepped forward again, preventing Varen from saying any more, and Varen sighed heavily. It wasn''t his fault that the twins had issues between them, but he felt like he could have done something to help out. Then again, he had only known¡ª


    "You''ve only known them as more than acquaintances for three days, don''t put the blame on yourself," said Magnar, moving to walk next to Varen.


    The latter asked after a second''s pause, "I''m not that obvious, am I?"


    "You wear your thoughts on your sleeve, son," Magnar pointed out bluntly, and Varen sighed again, drooping his head.


    "Every person I''ve met in the last few days seems to say that, and every time it comes as a little bit of a surprise to me that my poker face isn''t as good as I thought it was¡­"


    The veteran soldier simply shrugged. "Like I was saying, let them sort it out between themselves. If they can''t, a third-party''s interference might just make it worse."


    "Alright¡­ I''ll take your advice," Varen conceded. It still felt wrong to be a bystander when his two closest friends were fighting, but the older man did have a point.


    The buildings lining the streets gave way to a large square as they neared the southern walls, and they joined the mass of people already gathered there. As more poured in by the fringes, Varen couldn''t help but wonder uneasily what threats the frontier towns faced, that required this amount of people to deal with. There were many soldiers, but the majority of the crowd was formed out of mercenaries and adventurers, all armed to the teeth with various weapons.


    "Silence, please!" a voice rang clear over the noise of the crowd, drawing attention to the raised platform before them. A man in a dark-green officer''s greatcoat stood there, with his hands clasped behind his back. When the restless buzzing had subsided sufficiently, he spoke, "I''m Captain Reid, and I''ll be in charge of our operation this night."


    A handful of whoops erupted from the throng of non-military personnel, which Varen assumed to be from people who had worked with the Captain before. The Captain acknowledged them with a nod, then continued, "Thank you for volunteering to join in the town''s defence. My scouts have spotted Vaettir moving in our direction, and we estimate that they will be upon the walls within the hour."


    Someone called out, "What kind of Vaettir?"


    "It is a Goblin force ¨C riders, slingers and general footsoldiers, led by some Hobgoblins," Reid answered coolly. "A force of fifteen thousand, by my men''s rough estimations. The hobgoblins number over two thousand, and they are the real threat. We have sent word to the town garrisons down the road to be wary of any that slip past us, but we will deal with the majority here. Any questions?"


    Varen paled as the Captain uttered the numbers of the enemy. He knew of goblins ¨C the frail, pink-skinned monsters were the weakest documented Vaettir ¨C but the sheer amount that they were to be facing still chilled him to the core. He almost couldn''t comprehend that there were to be so many of them. Looking around, Varen estimated that there were only a few hundred gathered ¨C a number he''d thought was unnecessarily large just moments before. How were they to weather a force of fifteen thousand with such a paltry force?


    Yet, only a minority of the faces Varen saw showed fear. The majority were nervous yet eager, while the grizzled veterans either exhibited excitement or had unreadable expressions. By his side, Kleven was muttering something under his breath, a deep frown on the blonde''s face.


    "¡­Is this normal?" croaked Varen, his mouth suddenly dry.


    "Par for the course out here," Magnar said with a stone face. "Vaettir raids happen once or twice a week, though I don''t think something of this scale has happened for a while. We''re lucky none of the stronger ones have shown up this time."


    "Hah, lucky doesn''t even cover it," a bald, heavily-scarred man with a double-bladed battleaxe strapped to his back gave a hearty chuckle. He wore a sleeveless hard leather vest with nothing underneath it, which exposed his burly chest. He''d obviously overheard their conversation, which admittedly wasn''t hard to do considering how densely packed everyone was. "Three Skyvaettir ¨C Fire Drakes specifically ¨C showed up in Aldglass few years back, and in the day, even. They had to abandon the town for a year until the drakes decided to move out and the land could be recovered."


    "I don''t think I''ve heard of that incident," gulped Varen, trying to imagine the terror of three of the strongest categorised Skyvaettir to be discovered, in the same place. Just three had been enough to force the decision of abandoning a town to be made, and here they were standing their ground against an army of fifteen thousand. It spoke of an overwhelming difference in strength, one that Varen struggled to wrap his mind around.


    The man shrugged, having already noticed Varen''s conspicuous grey robes, noting the rifle slung across his back as well. "News like that doesn''t reach Ivolas or the inner cities. Morale issues, I reckon. The world''s shit enough as it is without the Vaettir." He paused, then added, addressing Kleven as well, "You don''t have to fight if you don''t want to. Your jobs in the Archives are admirable enough, we''re enough to handle the town''s defence."


    Kleven shook his head, but Varen answered the man before the blond could say anything, stammering, "N-no, it''s okay. We''re heading out to a dig site, and we could use the combat experience to better defend ourselves out there."


    "Interesting," the man nodded with an approving grin. "All the Archivists I''ve escorted preferred to hang back behind us. Well, let me tell you something that might cheer you up then. The Purple Robes are in town today, and we''ll have their firepower on our side."


    "Purple robes? You mean Majstors?"


    "Ex-Majstors," Magnar corrected. "The Purple Robes are what they call their mercenary group, and contrary to the name, they don''t wear those anymore. I heard their leader is ex-Majstoria too. That is indeed good to know."


    "Alright, we will begin getting into position soon," Captain Reid shouted, commanding silence again. "Ranged combatants, please gather to my left. Close quarter combatants, to my right. Those in official service to the Kingdom, report to the centre of the square. Let''s move, people!"


    "That''s our cue," the axe-wielding man said as the crowd began to split. "Watch our backs with that gun, yeah?"


    Magnar gave them a solemn nod as well, before pushing his way through to the square''s centre. Swallowing his nervousness, Varen turned and found Kleven already moving in the same direction as the axe-wielding mercenary. "Hey!" he hastily reached out and grabbed the blond''s arm. "¡­Be careful."


    "I will," answered Kleven briefly. His arm was released, and he was quickly swallowed by the moving mass of people. Standing still for a moment, Varen inhaled deeply, focusing his thoughts as the crowd flowed around him. Then, exhaling slowly, he began the herculean task of navigating through the human sea to his spot.

 Chapter 5

    Chapter 5


    Varen traced the patterns along the length of his rifle absentmindedly as he leaned on the parapet, looking out into the pitch-black darkness of the plains. The firearm was already locked and loaded, like those of the men alongside him on the walls, and now all Varen needed was a target. One that he would probably miss, but that was besides the point. I suppose I''m bound to hit something, anyhow, he thought with a mental shrug.


    During the fight with the wolves, he''d simply fired into the more concentrated spots of the pack, which meant that while he missed his original target more than often, the shots still connected with something. And with fifteen thousand targets making their way over, it would have been a total miracle if he still failed to hit anything while firing in their general direction.


    The number was still something he was unable to grasp. Peering over the parapet and down the twenty metre-high ramparts, Varen took in the torch-lit sight of his allies, trying to get a sense of scale. About two hundred close-ranged combatants of their defence force were gathered outside the town''s southern gate, while the other two hundred waited within the walls. The plan was for the two groups to switch places every hour, to treat wounds and allow the men breaks, and the gates were kept open to easily facilitate that.


    "Varen!" Turning around see who had called his name, Varen found Julien at the top of the battlement stairs, the boy waving animatedly at him.


    "Private! Pipe down and get to your position!" the officer-in-charge of their section of the walls, a Sergeant Wallen, yelled. Julien immediately bowed his head in embarrassment, much to the amusement of the surrounding adventurers. The red-faced younger soldier hurried over to Varen''s side, trying unsuccessfully to make himself seem smaller.


    "You get a lot of flak, don''t you," Varen observed mirthfully, and Julien let out a nervous chuckle.


    "Yeah¡­ I''m really starting to think a career in the military isn''t for me¡­"


    "Why''d you sign up then?"


    "Military family," Julien grumbled, and Varen nodded in understanding. "I didn''t have much of a choice."


    "I see. How is she?" asked Varen, changing the subject before the brown-haired boy could launch into a tirade.


    Julien sighed, "Furious doesn''t even begin to describe it. I got hit a few times, and I''m pretty sure she was serious about her threats to stick her dagger between my ribs if I didn''t leave her alone."


    "Hmm, when you say it like that, I''m not sure who''s scarier when they''re angry now," Varen mused. "Which would you rather face? Kleven''s calm, building anger, or Caelie''s burning rage from the get-go?"


    "No way, don''t make me choose. Neither."


    "Good answer," Varen laughed softly. His tone of voice shifted to one of concern, and he said, "I really hope they''ll be able to talk things out after. It''d suck if their arguments drags on, for them, and for all of us as well."


    "Yeah¡­" agreed Julien, and they fell into silence.


    A cold wind began to blow, and the torch flames around them wavered. Varen shivered slightly, glad that his scarf had survived the encounter with the wolves. It was slightly torn, but it was just as comfortable as it was before. Some of his hair had been blown onto his face, and he swept it back into place. Suddenly, another shiver ran through his body from the base of his spine. This time, however, it wasn''t from the temperature. A low rumble was building up in the distance, the noise almost imperceptible.


    "They''re coming," someone whispered, the wind carrying the sound.


    Weapons shifted as bowmen nocked their bows, while crossbowmen and gunmen sighted their crossbows and guns. Varen swallowed, a cold sweat growing on his palms, and he shifted his grip on his rifle. A masculine voice began chanting something further down the line, and Varen perked up his ears as he recognised it to be the beginnings of a spell. One of The Purple Robes?


    It wasn''t too long of an incantation, and after a few seconds a large ball of fire streaked through the air across the dark plains towards the woods. The fireball exploded in a brilliant flash as it neared the end of the flats, illuminating the area momentarily.


    "W-what the fuck¡­" Julien choked out as they were granted a brief glimpse of the enemy.


    Varen echoed the younger boy''s sentiments internally, nearly dropping his weapon at the sight. Every inch of the land was coloured pink as the goblin horde advanced out of the forest in an unorderly fashion ¨C and as far as Varen could tell, that was merely a fraction of the enemy force. The rumbling stopped for a moment as the creatures paused mid-step, enthralled by the sudden light above them.


    Then as the light faded, the entirety of the horde erupted into a primal war cry, and Varen felt his blood run cold at the uncomprehendingly deafening noise. The rumble of thousands of feet pounding on earth grew into a thunderous sound as the goblins broke into a sprint, and Varen''s grip on his gun loosened as he stood with his mouth agape. He''d nearly died fighting a wolf pack, but they were nothing compared to the wave of impending doom before him.


    Even then Varen had relied on Dorian and the twins to calm him down, but now they weren''t by his side. The urge to turn tail and run grew, but what use was there running from such numbers? Thoughts of death ¨C or worse, being eaten by the goblins, as they were wont to do ¨C flashed through his mind, and he took an involuntary half-step backwards.


    Strong hands came down on his shoulders as soon as he did, and Varen twisted around in shock to see Sergeant Wallen right behind him. The Sergeant fixed him with a stern gaze and whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "Look around you. Tell me what you see."


    "E-everyone''s scared¡­" Varen stammered after taking a quick look. Those who''d been visibly afraid like he was were the minority before, when they were gathered in the square, but now, Varen could sense an underlying fear in everyone present.


    "That''s right. Men may put on strong faces, but even the most confident veteran will feel a niggling of fear when faced with an enemy. It is that innate fear that gives us our sense of self-preservation. It is an instinct that helps us to survive, but only if it remains under our control."


    "Right now, you''re doing the opposite," continued Wallen. "You''re letting it control you, and the moment your fear overtakes you, you will have doomed us all. For you will die with a heart full of fear, and it will spread rampantly to those by your side."


    If I die, everyone else will die? The words rang through Varen''s mind, and he realised it was true, even more so than the man had intended. If he died, he could cause his fellow fighters to perish in this battle. If he died, it would take time for the Head Majstor to receive the news, and even more time to put together another unofficial investigative team. A delay which could prevent them from figuring out how to stop another Cataclysm¡­


    And if he died so stupidly, Eden would never forgive him. Steeling his resolve, Varen looked up to the Sergeant and nodded.


    Returning Varen''s determined nod with a satisfied grunt, Wallen released his grip and strutted back to the centre of the wall section. Staring out over the fields, he shouted, "Right! You all know what to do! Wait till the bastards are in range, and fire on my command! Raise your weapon and call out if you need spare ammo, and a runner will come along!"


    The magician from before unleashed the same spell again, temporarily dispelling the darkness of the night and revealing that the first wave of the horde was now halfway through the plains.


    "Weapons up!"


    Control your fear, Varen¡­ Chanting the words in his mind like a mantra, Varen shouldered his rifle. His hands still shook, but his mind wavered less. He glanced to his side and saw that Julien had did likewise, having pulled his bowstring taut. The younger archer noticed Varen''s gaze and gave a nervous grin in return.


    "Hold¡­sight your targets¡­"


    Out of the corner of his eye, Varen could see that what few spear wielders below had formed a phalanx formation, the points of their weapons ready to receive the enemy''s assault. The goblins'' war cry was now truly ear-shattering, and he had to resist the urge to cover his ears. The creatures were still too far to be clearly seen, but Varen took aim, focusing on a group of silhouettes in the darkness. Then, the first of the horde ¨C riders, faster than the rest on their boar steeds ¨C emerged into clear view of the torches.


    "Fire at will!"


    xxxxx


    Dozens of goblins fell as the first volley sounded from above, their bodies trampled up in an instant by their brethren as they advanced single-mindedly.


    "Let us stand headfast, and like a rock in the path of a raging river we shall split them! These mindless creatures come to our lands out of hunger, and I say we let them starve! For the Kingdom!" the voice of the Captain rang out patriotically. He stood within their midst, the sword in his hand held high, and he hollered over the din as the horde came within a stone''s throw, "Brace for impact!"


    Kleven joined in as the men roared a war cry of their own. It was pitifully soft compared to the noise the enemy made, but the conviction was there. He''d torn the sleeves of his robe, the threads already frayed as they were, and his toned arm muscles tensed as he placed both arms on the back of the spearman before him. The man grunted his thanks for the support and leant forward slightly, keeping his spear level, just in time for the first goblin riders to crash into the formation and impale themselves on the spears.


    "I''m good now, go put your sword arm to use!" the spearman tilted his head back and shouted, the spear in his hands jabbing forward simultaneously to end another creature''s life.


    Kleven acknowledged his shout by letting go and stepping back to give himself space to fight. He drew his sword from its sheath and unholstered his round steel shield from where it had been strapped to the back of his leather vest. Taking a quick glance around, he saw that nearly everyone was engaged in battle, the goblins already having managed to squeeze past the gaps in the front lines.


    A loud squeal invaded his ears, and a rider bounded forward on its boar, the latter the largest hog he''d ever seen. The goblin clutched a crude piece of metal in its small pink hand, and it grinned devilishly at him, revealing rows of sharp, pointed teeth. It cackled, the sound slightly unnerving, and kicked the boar''s sides. At the command, the tusked pig bristled with primal fury and charged toward Kleven.


    It was fast, but Kleven reacted swiftly, stepping out of its charging path. It struggled to turn, carried by its momentum. The goblin swung its makeshift weapon as it passed, and Kleven raised his shield to block the hit. They really are weak, he thought as the attack glanced off the shield, his arm having barely felt the impact.


    He remembered fighting boars once, when their father had brought him and his sister on a hunt. What age were they then? Nine or ten, if his memory served. Caelie had been so afraid of them then, and had vehemently insisted sitting out on the actual subduing of the wild animal. Father had relented, but ultimately still forced her to skin and gut it, which she did with tears in her eyes. Kleven smiled at the thought.


    Would Caelie cry if she was faced with this beast and its rider now? Kleven didn''t know, but he''d be damned if he was going to find out. It hurt him to see his twin so furious at him, but he had to protect her, now that no one else could.


    The boar ground to a halt, digging into the dirt and tearing up grass with its hooves. Its rider spat out words, in a language that was harsh on the ears and seemed more akin to noise. Kleven watched carefully as the goblin began kicking the boar''s sides relentlessly, rousing it into even more of a battle fury. I''ll have to take the rider out first, he concluded. He couldn''t afford to let it enrage the pig even further.


    Another squeal indicated that the beast was about to charge once again. It frothed at the mouth and stomped its hooves, adding to the already trodden ground. In a split second, it was charging at a terrifying speed, but Kleven was ready.


    Taking a step out of its predictable path like he had before, he spun, swinging out with his sword. The goblin made no noise as it died instantly, the blade biting deep into its torso and very nearly cutting its frail form clean in half. Its limp corpse was tossed off its steed by the blow, and its entrails spilled out as it crumpled onto the floor.


    If the boar had felt any connection to its deceased rider, it didn''t show in any way. As soon as it had managed to stop itself and turn, it was moving again. Kleven prepared to sidestep it a third time, when all of a sudden, a stone struck the back of his right knee. His leg buckled and he fell into a kneel as another stone bounced harmlessly off his shield. Raising his gaze, the blond watched helplessly as the rampaging beast neared.


    Suddenly, a spiked warhammer slammed into the animal''s side with an audible crunch, and Kleven winced involuntarily at the bone-breaking hit. The boar gave a panicked squeal as it was sent flying a few paces, and it fell onto its side. Before it could recover, the blade of a greataxe sunk into its throat, and it spasmed in its death throes as blood spurted copiously out of the arterial wound.


    "Come on, boy! The battle''s hardly begun, it''s not our turn to take a break yet!" the axe''s owner laughed belligerently. It was the heavily-scarred mercenary from before, and the man strode over to help Kleven to his feet. "Can you stand steady?"


    A stone impacted on the man''s leather vest before Kleven could respond, and the man caught the projectile as it bounced off. He stared into the distance, presumably at the offending goblin that had slung it. "I''m not usually one to return a gift¡­" the mercenary said to himself humorously, then flung the stone back with excessive force.


    "Yeah, just need a second," Kleven replied, his eyes catching the now mangled form of the man''s target as the weakness in his leg quickly faded. He looked around for signs of his other saviour, and found Magnar with his signature spiked hammer already further down the battle line. The aged soldier was wading through the horde, leaving broken and battered bodies in his wake.


    "If you''re fine, then I''m heading over," the mercenary grumbled and hefted his battleaxe, his gaze fixed on Magnar as well. "I''m not losing to someone twice my age."


    Rolling his shoulders, Kleven chuckled in response, "Mind if I joined you?"


    The man grinned widely and exclaimed, "That''s the spirit! Try and keep up!"


    Together, they made their way over to Magnar''s side, pausing occasionally to deal with any goblins that got in their way. A stone flew as they approached, scraping the soldier''s cheek and drawing blood, but Magnar barely even flinched at the injury. With a grunt, he lifted his hammer and smashed it down onto a rider and its beast, crushing the former into paste and dazing the latter. He finished the job with a horizontal swing to the boar''s snout, breaking off one of its tusks in the process.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Sharp stones were crisscrossing through the air now, as the goblin slingers made their way forward into range, most of the riders that led the charge already dispatched. The slingers were at least five times as numerous as their beast-riding kin, and they hung back, pelting stones as the remaining riders and the main bulk of footsoldiers advanced. Their horrible aim was a saving grace, as they were more like to miss or hit one of their own instead of the defenders''. Still, the goblins had the numbers to spare, and with so many missiles being flung, some were bound to hit their targets.


    "Shield wall, form up on me!" Captain Reid''s voice sounded out, the command being promptly relayed down the line by several other soldiers.


    The axeman groaned at the order. They''d just reached Magnar, only to be recalled before he could get to adding to his kill count. He ducked as a stone whistled past where his head had been, muttering curses under his breath. Magnar gave them a nod as they retreated into formation, standing directly behind Kleven.


    Kleven hunched slightly and raised his shield in line with the rest of the shield-bearers. They were all using small to medium sized shields, which were only large enough to protect their vitals from the rocky bullets, and Kleven hissed as stones hit his legs. Those are definitely going to bruise in the morning, he thought in annoyance.


    Thankfully, the wall commanders above were quick to act, directing ranged fire down upon the enemy slingers, and volleys of arrows and gunfire decimated the goblin ranks. A fireball found its way into a clump of slingers, sending their charred bodies flying. Roaring thunder preceded several tendrils of forked lightning, the latter of which lighting up the night sky with multiple split-second flashes. The tendrils spread as they came into contact with the enemy, lancing through dozens of goblins in a spectacular display of light and littering the ground with smoking corpses.


    "What a sight! It''s at least mid-tier spell, that. I wouldn''t be surprised if it was even the mage''s Magnum Opus," the mercenary whistled his approval as Kleven looked upon the scene of destruction with wide eyes.


    The magicians'' didn''t attack again, as Kleven expected. There were still thousands of goblins before them, and they were rightly conserving their strength for any dire situations. Still, their efforts had been enough, and soon the hail of thrown rocks slackened. The few creatures in the front hesitated, for the first time since the beginning of the battle. The individually weak Vaettir took courage in numbers, and while they still had an army of their kin behind them, the concentrated attack gave them pause.


    Their hesitance didn''t last long as a larger, taller creature pushed its way to the front. Its skin was almost a dark-red, as if soaked in blood, and unlike the naked goblins, it was equipped with leather armour and a rusted sword, likely stolen from an adventurer''s corpse. Waving its weapon about, it barked out at the surrounding goblins in its infernal tongue. With that, the horde surged forward again with newfound invigoration, the red-skinned monster leading the charge.


    "Hobgoblin!" Kleven called out redundantly, grimacing at its hideous mug. He''d seen illustrations of them before ¨C studied them, to put it more accurately ¨C and they were much uglier in person.


    "Finally! A real opponent!" the axeman laughed, baring his teeth in a bestial grin. Clutching the haft of his battleaxe with one hand, he pointed out with the other and yelled, "That one''s mine!"


    The other men shouted an incoherent but inspiring war cry at his yell, and some of the shield-bearers took to rapping their weapons against their shields. Pushing past Kleven, the mercenary raised his axe and added to the cheer with a primal cry, before barreling forward with the hobgoblin in his sights. Several of the surrounding men, Magnar included, swiftly followed suit. Kleven couldn''t help but grin at their enthusiasm, and lifting his own shortsword, he joined them.


    xxxxx


    Varen fumbled as he reloaded his firearm, and the lead bullet he was holding slipped out between his fingers. It rolled into a small crack on the stone floor, right by Julien''s feet. Shooting off an arrow, the younger boy reached down and picked it up with a small groan.


    "Here you go," Julien said, passing the bullet back into Varen''s palm. He then stretched out his arms and back with a moan, before drawing another arrow from his quiver and nocking it. "I wish the Army issued guns to us too, this is exhausting! Oh! Here''s an idea, want to switch weapons for a bit?"


    "Thanks, I was just a little distracted," replied Varen, rolling the lead ball in his palm. He watched as Julien pulled the recurve bow''s string taut with no small amount of effort, while his own hands resumed the loading of his rifle. "And no thanks, we both know I wouldn''t be able to pull that bow back, let alone shoot an arrow with it."


    Julien gave him a silly grin. "I know, all the more I want to see you try it. What''s on your mind, anyway? Still awed by that lightning spell?"


    "Well, you know¡­" Varen trailed off as he shouldered his firearm for the umpteenth time that night. The men were advancing to meet the goblin charge, so he sighted an enemy further down the field. He didn''t trust his own aim that much to shoot so close to his allies. The air cracked as he fired it, the sound quickly drowned out by the surrounding cacophony.


    "I was right then!" Julien laughed, reaching to his quiver and finding it empty. He raised his bow and caught the attention of one of the ammunition runners, before turning back to Varen. "I''ve seen a few Majstors and adventurer mages, and it never gets dull. Actually, I change my wish ¨C I wish we could all use magic! Can you imagine how much easier life would be?"


    "Chaotic is the word that comes to mind, and I imagine there''ll be quite a few people who would hate that idea. ''When everyone''s special, then no one is'' and all that," retorted Varen. Though, I would quite enjoy that woman''s reaction.


    He thought back to how she''d shown unrestrained hatred at his modicum of magic, and how satisfying it would be to rub it in her face. Even his father''s face, if he got the chance to become a proper mage ¨C which he never would, Varen reminded himself. It annoyed himself a little how much he was still hung up about them, a feeling he was now getting familiar with, after his sharing session with the twins. He didn''t regret telling them, but now it seemed like the thoughts he''d kept close to heart now dwelled in his conscious mind.


    "And no, you weren''t exactly right," Varen added as Julien pondered his words. "I knew someone who used lightning magic, and the spell reminded me of them."


    "Oh? A girl?" smirked the younger boy, wagging his eyebrows.


    Varen rolled his eyes. "Is that all you think about?"


    "Hah, your refusal to give a clear answer has revealed the truth!"


    "¡­I thought of her as an older sister, nothing more."


    "I''m not judging," shrugged Julien, the infernal smirk still upon the young soldier''s lips, eliciting an exasperated sigh from Varen. "Okay, okay, I''ll stop before you suck up my soul with your dreariness."


    "You''re insufferable, you know that?" stated Varen as he fired off another shot.


    "The ladies love it."


    "Do they?"


    Julien''s confidence faltered, and Varen stifled a laugh. "They will¡­" the brown-haired boy countered, though in a smaller voice than before.


    "I don''t know¡­ Caelie seemed to be laughing at you instead of laughing with you most of the time," Varen pointed out, much to Julien''s chagrin.


    "Hey! That''s a cheap shot," Julien said with a mock frown. "Besides, as long as she''s laughing, I''m happy. Laughter is the way to a woman''s heart, as my father used to say."


    Varen nodded along but said nothing. A runner dashed up to them with a bundle of arrows in hand for Julien, and they fell back to firing their weapons in a silent rhythm. More hobgoblins were emerging from the horde now, and the Sergeant called out for the red-skinned creatures to be targeted over their lower kin variant, to provide the ground troops some reprieve.


    "They''re climbing the walls!" one of the soldiers called out, and Varen popped his head out over the parapet to catch a quick view. The main force on the ground could only stretch out so much, and the goblins had begun to flank them and scale the stone walls.


    "Don''t worry about them, soldier, keep firing! They''ll be dealt with," Sergeant Wallen yelled his answer, "and those other fuckers still in the field won''t keel over and die on their own!"


    As he said that, a thin sheen of ice spread across the top half of the outer walls. The goblins ascended the lower half of the walls with ease, but slipped off as they neared the top when they found nothing but smooth ice to grasp. By itself, it seemed like a simple spell, but Varen wondered how much it must have taken out of the mage who''d cast it to spread it across the entirety of the southern walls.


    "Like I said," Julien reiterated with a triumphant grin. "Life would be easier. We''d probably have wiped out the Goblin force within an hour if we all could do that."


    "Doesn''t change the fact that it''s never going to happen, Julien," sighed Varen, wiping the smile of the younger soldier''s face. He''d dreamt of the same idea far too many times after his banishment. About how different things would have turned out, if he had the least bit more magical power than the insignificant speck he possessed.


    A loud bugle horn interrupted him before his thoughts could spiral further downward, signalling that an hour had passed, and Wallen''s voice quickly followed it. "Archers! Prepare flaming arrows and wait for my signal!"


    xxxxx


    "Reform ranks! All servicemen, prepare your oil flasks and gather on me!" Captain Reid commanded as the bugle''s brassy note overwhelmed all other sounds for a brief moment.


    "Just a little more and we get to take a break," the axe-wielding mercenary said as he deftly decapitated his third hobgoblin. Kleven nodded, smashing in a goblin''s face with the edge of his steel shield. It cried out and raised its crude metal weapon to retaliate, but Kleven''s sword found its way into the creature''s chest, killing it instantly.


    Kicking the body off his blade, the blonde retreated back into the ranks with the axeman following him closely. A few other adventurers clapped them on the back, and Kleven flushed at the praise. He reached up with an arm to swipe the sweat off his forehead and immediately winced at the contact.


    There was a fresh cut on his arm ¨C when did I receive that? Looking down at his body, Kleven realised that he''d received quite a few glancing hits which he apparently hadn''t noticed. His robes were in an even worse state than they had been before the start of the battle as well. Caelie would no doubt be mad at him for further ruining his clothes¡ª


    "Oh, right¡­" Kleven mumbled to himself, nearly forgetting that she was already apocalyptically furious with him. Hopefully seeing his sorry state would help her realise the danger that he was trying to protect her from¡­


    When everyone was in their positions, the Captain called out again. Flasks of oil flew from the soldiers'' hands, impacting on the mountain of goblin corpses before them and causing the monsters to slip and fall as they tried to claw their way over their kin''s bodies. Flaming arrows flew from above in the next instant, lighting the oiled cadavers on fire and forming a barrier of flame.


    Another wall of magical fire burst into existence directly behind the first. It added to the flames and caused them to burn even higher and hotter. Kleven shielded his eyes from the blaze as the sheer heat began to melt the goblin bodies, filling the air with the acrid odor of burning flesh. The intense heat deterred the enemy''s front lines, searing those close enough and forcing them to shy away. Though, many were still pushed forward into the flames, as the rear of the goblin army surged forward unawares.


    "There''s our signal! Into the gates, men! On the double!"


    Many of the men had already broken out into small talk as they filed in through the gates, and cheers were exchanged as they passed the second group who were making their way out to take their place. A few others wore sullen expressions as they held dead comrades, and Kleven averted his gaze out of respect.


    "You know, kid, I never caught your name. Yours too, old man," the axeman said, looking at them expectantly.


    "Neither did you give yours," chuckled Kleven as he sheathed his sword and holstered his shield. "I''m Kleven Trevek, Junior Archivist."


    "We were in a fight then, Kleven. Pleasantries should be exchanged after blood is spilled in battle. It makes for a stronger bond," the mercenary grinned. "Orval Farridge, solo mercenary professional, at your service."


    "Magnar Erhardt, Corporal in the Kingdom''s service," Magnar introduced himself tersely as well.


    Orval gave the older soldier a strange look, then asked, "You fight like you''re possessed, Corporal. Surely a skilled man like yourself would have made Sergeant, at the very least?"


    Kleven perked up at the topic, intrigued as well. He did find it strange that Magnar wasn''t at least an officer, with how experienced the man was, both in age and battle.


    Magnar gave the mercenary a hard stare for a moment, before grunting, "I was previously a Second Lieutenant, if that''s the answer you''re looking for."


    "Previously?" Kleven asked, unable to help his curiosity.


    The older man looked at him with an unreadable expression. "Yes. I made a tactical error when leading a mission, and accepted a demotion back down to Private as punishment."


    "Our stories are similar, then," Orval said in a sombre tone. "I was brash, headstrong and overconfident when I was young and starting out in this business. Ended up leading my team into a situation we weren''t ready for, and here I am as the only survivor."


    Magnar remained characteristically silent, revealing no emotion. Kleven looked between the two older men, unsure of what to say. The blond glanced hesitantly up at Orval, and the mercenary caught his eye. Almost immediately, the man''s glum expression faded, and he flashed Kleven a grin.


    "Don''t worry about it, lad. It is my shame, but it''s no secret. I tell everyone who listens, so they don''t commit the same mistake. My own little way of honouring my comrades, if you will."


    "What were they like? Your teammates," asked Kleven after a moment''s thought, carefully studying Orval''s expression in case he offended the mercenary.


    A wistful look crossed Orval''s face for a second, though it quickly disappeared as he laughed aloud, "That, my friend, is a story to tell over drinks and a delicious meal! I won''t accept any less if I am to speak of my comrades. Let us see this night through, and I''ll tell you of them when we are making merry after."


    Kleven nodded. Together, the three of them made their way closer to the southern square, where makeshift beds for the injured had already been set up. A few merchants had set up refreshment stands for the fighters to replenish their energy, and Kleven accepted a drink with a grateful smile. He gulped it down, greedily quenching his thirst as he watched Orval and Magnar clean their weapons of goblin blood.


    The last of the replacement fighters were trickling out the town''s gate, when suddenly, a familiar smattering of dirty blonde hair caught Kleven''s attention from the corner of his eye. He turned to get a better view of the person, but whoever it was had already moved out of the gate and beyond his vision.


    It couldn''t be¡­ Turning to their scarred mercenary companion, Kleven asked hurriedly, "Orval, do you know where the stables are?"


    "Right next to the Adventurer''s Guild building, why?"


    "I''m just going to check on something, I''ll be right back!"


    Without waiting for a reply, Kleven pushed his way through the crowd and broke into a run towards the centre of the town. The short run seemed far longer than he liked, and his heart pounded in his chest, though not so much from the exertion. He shook off the ''what ifs'' as they popped into his mind ¨C Caelie tended to be reckless when she was angry, but she''d never outright defied his instructions. She knew better, and he knew she knew better. Still, he had to check.


    The stables were crowded with a multitude of carriages and horses, tended to by a few stablehands. Kleven found their carriage being cleaned by a young stable boy, and he asked, doing his best to stay calm, "Have you seen a girl, shorter than me, with the same hair colour?"


    "N-no sir, I t-think she might be gathered with the other women and children in the town h-hall," the boy stammered out, and the blond realised he must have come across much fiercer than he expected.


    "I see¡­ thank you," said Kleven, forcing a smile, and the boy scurried away to tend to another carriage.


    Maybe I should check the town hall, the blonde thought as he glanced into the carriage, just to be sure that their things were all there. He frowned as he spotted one of Caelie''s bags half opened. Thieves weren''t too uncommon, but his sister would undoubtedly explode in wroth ¨C as if she wasn''t angry enough already ¨C if any of her things were taken. Climbing into the carriage, he opened the bag, and immediately paled at what he saw.


    A crumpled set of grey robes. Caelie''s grey robes.


    "No¡­" he whispered through gritted teeth, clutching the grey fabric tightly. "No, no, no¡­ that stupid girl¡­ what is she thinking?!"


    With a burst of panicked anger, Kleven tossed the robes back on top of the open bag and clambered out of the carriage. He gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword and jumped onto a nearby white-coated horse that hadn''t yet been unsaddled.


    "S-sir! You can''t just¡ª" the stable boy rushed over, grasping nervously at Kleven''s robes. "The stablemaster will have my hide¡ª"


    Kleven pushed off the boy''s hands without any regard for his words. He gave the horse''s sides a kick, and it jolted forward with a whinny. Pulling on its reins, he brought the horse to a gallop. The cobblestones shook as he pushed the horse to its fastest back the way he came, nearly colliding with several people.


    He hurtled into the southern square at speed, parting the fighters who''d been resting with his sudden entry. Many shot him dirty looks as he ground to a halt at the centre of the courtyard, dissatisfied at the interruption of their well-needed break. Ignoring their gazes, he tugged on the horse''s reins and steered it towards the gates. The soldiers moved to bar his way, but Orval''s intimidating form was already blocking his path.


    "Get out of my way, Orval!" shouted Kleven in frustration. He squeezed the steed''s sides with his thighs and urged it forward, intending to run over whoever was in his path and hoping that they would have enough sense to move out of the way.


    Orval, however, stood resolute in the blond''s warpath. The mercenary raised an outstretched palm as the horse neared, and the beast of burden immediately slowed to a trot. Kleven growled and dug his heels into its sides again, but the horse ignored him and proceeded to nuzzle its head into Orval''s hand.


    "Pray tell, Junior Archivist Trevek," Orval began coldly, his eyes dark as he focused his gaze on the mount before him. "What are you doing on my horse?"


    "I don''t have time for this, Orval!" Kleven hissed, drawing his sword and pointing it threateningly at the man before him. "My sister''s out there, and I need to get to her!"


    The scarred mercenary slowly lifted his gaze and fixed the blonde with an icy look. "And how does that justify taking my horse? Go on, I''m waiting to hear it."


    "She can''t fight, you fucking bastard! I don''t care if you killed your whole fucking team because of your ego, but I''m not standing around to watch my sister die! Now get the fuck out of my way!"


    "Get. Off. My. Horse," Orval said with the same icy look, giving no indication that he''d heard what Kleven had said about his deceased teammates. "Get off her, and I''ll help find your sister."


    Kleven stared back at him defiantly, seething with resentment. Then, without another word, he climbed off the mount and began stomping over to the gates with sword and shield in hand. The guards moved to stop him once more, albeit hesitantly after watching the exchange of words, but backed off totally when the gate Sergeant motioned for them to let him through.


    "Magnar, watch over Lucine, will you? Please," requested Orval as he handed his horse''s reins over to the older soldier, who had come up to them during the argument. Magnar remained silent and gave him a solemn nod.


    Sighing, Orval looked up at the night sky, his cold guise replaced by a worn and forlorn expression. His lips moved in a silent prayer, and for a moment the man''s muscular figure seemed much smaller than it was. He sighed heavily again, shaking his head.


    "It never ends, eh Lucine?" the mercenary mumbled to himself. He waited for half a moment, as if expecting a reply, but the stars remained unspeaking. Hefting his battleaxe with tightly clenched fists, he began stalking after Kleven with large strides.

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6


    The dagger in Caelie''s hands flashed, slicing through a goblin''s throat. Blood spurt out from the fatal incision, flying through the air and landing on her newly acquired leather boots. The petite blonde grimaced and took a step back, straight into another puddle of congealed blood.


    "Really," she deadpanned to no one in particular. "This just isn''t my day¡­"


    Another one of the pink-skinned creatures came running up to her, its mouth opened wide in a primal scream. It clutched a crudely fashioned stone axe in its grubby little hands, and it swung the weapon around unpredictably as it approached. Caelie watched its every move carefully ¨C it was weak, but so was she, and she couldn''t afford to make any mistakes if she was going to prove her worth to Kleven.


    It was a miracle that she''d managed to escape his notice while exiting the town''s gates. She''d managed to purchase a full set of leather vestments off an enterprising merchant, but the man hadn''t had any headgear in stock for her to hide her conspicuous blonde heritage. Now that she''d made it out of the town, however, she was more concerned with not getting any of the blood and gore in her hair, rather than hiding it.


    The goblin before her snarled in frustration as she dodged yet another one of its clumsy strikes. She was hardly a good fighter, but the basics had been drilled into both twins by their father, and that was more than enough to deal with such a single-minded creature. Kleven had taken those lessons more seriously, while Caelie herself had loathed them, but now she was grateful if anything.


    In a way, the goblin reminded her of the townspeople of Mirnas. Crude, untrained in combat and full of single-minded hatred for the Bandit King and everyone related to him. An fun idea popped into her head as she thought about her hometown, recalling how Kleven had gotten rid of a gang of teenage bullies once. Glancing around, she spotted what she was looking for, sidestepping another of the monster''s attacks to move closer to her target.


    The decapitated goblin''s head she found wasn''t exactly a ball, but it would do for all intents and purposes. Winding up a leg, the blonde kicked the disembodied head as hard as she could. Goblin head met goblin head, resulting in an extremely satisfying crack. Hah, exactly what Kleven did back then!


    The goblin with its head still attached collapsed from the impact, crying out in pain as it grasped at its broken nose. With her chance in plain sight, Caelie jumped the goblin without hesitation. The sharp point of her dagger found its throat, and just like before, its blood sprayed out from the arterial wound as it perished. This time however, she was a little unluckier, and the gore found its way onto her face and into her unwittingly open mouth.


    "Ah¡­ shit!" cursed Caelie between spits. She stood unsteadily and reached up with her left hand to claw at her mouth, but remembered at the last second that it was encased in an armoured gauntlet ¨C another one of her new acquisitions. Cursing again, she transferred the dagger in her right hand to her left, before using her now free and ungloved hand to assist in clearing her mouth of goblin blood.


    A flash of red out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she quickly spun around with her gauntleted hand raised. The hobgoblin shrieked gutturally as its rusted sword met the steel glove, and Caelie fell to a knee from the force of the blow. Tremors ran through her arm as she forced herself to hold it high, and she panicked slightly as she realised that her dagger was still in her left hand.


    The blood red hobgoblin reacted before she could, pulling its sword back and slamming a grimy foot into her chest. Caelie was knocked onto her back by the blow, and she lay gasping for breath. Her dagger had been sent flying a few paces away as well, and the blonde slowly pushed herself back with her arms and legs as the monster advanced on her. It let out an animalistic laugh ¨C it was laughing at her suffering! ¨C and Caelie felt an indignant fury grow within her.


    "Oh, you bastard," she muttered under her breath.


    It brought its rusty sword down, but the blade only found dirt as she rolled out of the way in the nick of time. Stretching out a leg, she returned the favor, kicking the hobgoblin in the chest with as much strength as she could muster. The creature stumbled, and Caelie immediately scrambled to her feet, running for her weapon. A stone-shot struck her side, and though her leather vest took the brunt of it, the unexpected hit still surprised her.


    She tripped on her own legs and fell, smashing stomach-first onto a goblin''s corpse which laid right next to her dagger. The cadaver practically exploded from the force of her landing, sending its innards flying everywhere and soaking her entire front in blood. Blood dripped from her now soaked armour as she stood, holding her knife out with a forward grip.


    Rage filled eyes bore into the hobgoblin''s, and the creature merely cackled in amusement. It raised its own weapon in acceptance of the blonde''s challenge, baring its sharp teeth and licking its lips. As soon as it did, Caelie let loose a blood-curdling cry and charged forward.


    The hobgoblin swung its blade unerringly into her path, but Caelie reacted swiftly in her wrath fueled trance, her heart throbbing deafeningly in her ears. Her gauntlet met its blade again, and she swatted the red-rusted instrument aside. It staggered as its arm followed the trajectory of its deflected sword, and the petite blonde grasped the opening. She lunged forward and stabbed the monster in its ribs, through its rotted leather chestpiece. It howled and grabbed her wrist with its free hand, crushing it under its grip and forcing her to let go of her dagger. Then, it headbutted her with a snarl, its ridiculously hard forehead cracking viciously against her nose.


    Stars filled Caelie''s vision as she fumbled from the unorthodox blow. The creature wasted no time in taking advantage of her disoriented state, grabbing the back of her head and slamming its forehead into her own again. And again. And again.


    The hobgoblin released her, reeling from its own brutal attack, and she fell limply onto her behind. Her ears rang dully, and her anger ebbed away rapidly as she held back tears, gingerly clutching at her broken nose. Ironically, it reminded her of what she''d done to the previous goblin. She tasted blood ¨C it was the goblin''s blood from before too ¨C and she began to chuckle to herself at the absurdity of it all.


    Her opponent hissed at her reaction and lumbered forward. A few goblins approached to finish her off, but they backed away as their larger kin variant swung its blade in a wide arc, barking ferociously at them. Caelie''s world spun as she looked up at the ugly red-skinned creature, her gaze focused blankly on the dagger still embedded in its abdomen. She reached up for it weakly, but the hobgoblin stood just out of her grasp, grinning triumphantly down at her with its weapon poised to give the finishing strike.


    "¡ªAELIE!" a familiar voice screamed over the sounds of battle, and Caelie jerked her neck around to look for its source. The sudden movement made her head throb, and the following blur of grey and yellow slamming into the hobgoblin only served to add to her headache. The monster toppled onto its back from the impact, and in the very next second the grey figure was upon it.


    "Kle¡­ven¡­?"


    Kleven gave no answer as he jumped atop the stunned hobgoblin, pinning it down with his weight. He drove his sword deep into its shoulder, further restricting its movement. With a furious howl, the blond began laying into the struggling creature, pummeling it with shield and fist. The colours in her vision swam as Caelie watched her twin administer a relentless, almost cruel beating upon the hobgoblin.


    "Can you stand, lass?" someone asked, an unfamiliar voice this time. Caelie looked up, dazed, and stared blankly at the heavily-scarred man hunched over her. She understood his words, but for some reason she couldn''t formulate a reply. It was as if there was a fog in her mind.


    "Is she alright?" Kleven asked the man, and she turned groggily to face her brother as he approached. His fists were bloody, and the mangled body of the hobgoblin lay motionless behind him. "Is that her blood?"


    I''m fine, it''s not mine, Caelie thought, the words escaping her mouth in an unintelligible moan. The man glanced down at her and shook his head.


    "Not hers, other than the flow from her nose. She''s in shock. A concussion too, I''d wager. We shouldn''t move her too much, but we need to get her off the battlefield. Carefully."


    "Right¡­ I''ll help her up. I''ll leave the fuckers that get in our way to you," said Kleven, his voice thick with a myriad of emotions. He bent down and grabbed his sister''s underarms, gently urging her up. "Come on, Caelie. Let''s go back."


    It was a line she''d heard far too many times, especially in that soft, beaten tone. A line he always uttered after his body had been battered and bruised while protecting her. No, she had to prove that she could fend for herself, or he would kill himself being her shield. Hot indignation welled up in her chest again as she rose unsteadily from the ground, shrugging off Kleven''s aid.


    "Where''s¡­ dagger?" the blonde tried to force a growl, but it came out in a slur. "Fight¡­ I still can¡­"


    "You''ve done more than enough," Kleven answered his twin sternly. He tugged on her arms gently but firmly, then added in a muted voice, "Let''s go back¡­ please¡­"


    "Give¡­ my weapon¡­" Caelie moaned in reply, struggling lightly in her brother''s grip. She reached out, grasping at whatever seemed like her dagger. It had been removed from the hobgoblin''s body when she''d glanced at it just moments before, and she was sure Kleven had it.


    "That''s enough, Caelie! Stop it!" Kleven snapped, his hurt apparent on his features. "I''ll throw that damned dagger away if you won''t fucking listen!"


    His words resounded in Caelie''s addled mind, and in that moment, it was the worst thing she''d ever heard. She recoiled, pushing him away. Her hand smarted, and she realised that she''d slapped her twin across the cheek unconsciously. Horrified, she took several groggy steps back. Suddenly, something impacted into the back of her head, and she slumped forward like a puppet with its strings cut as her consciousness faded.


    xxxxx


    The sun had yet to rise, but the fighting had begun to die down. The mass of pink goblins had dwindled down to a fraction of their original force, though they still numbered over a thousand. The Vaettir hung back in the darkness behind the mountain of corpses which had yet to be burnt or melted, and beyond the range of the defence''s bows and guns as well. What few hobgoblins that remained tried to rouse their weaker kin into charging forward again, ultimately resulting to violence when their roars went ignored.


    Another fireball streaked out into the night, exploding in a small clump of goblins and providing the defenders with another brief moment of vision. The fire mage had begun throwing them out periodically when the goblins advanced had faltered, though their frequency and destructive power had lessened. It wasn''t surprising that the mage had begun to tire. The magical fire had undoubtedly claimed the most lives, and Varen was sure that the spellcaster was on the verge of exhaustion after everything.


    "I can''t feel my arms anymore," Julien groaned, leaning on the parapet with his bow unnocked in his left hand. "I''m gonna need someone to feed me for a week."The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    "Don''t even think about it," smirked Varen, gently massaging his own right shoulder. "I''m not doing it."


    "What? No! I wasn''t asking¡ª"


    Varen chuckled as the boy spluttered in embarrassment. Then, feigning hurt, he said, "Wow¡­ if you''re so opposed to me spoonfeeding you, then maybe we should get Magnar to do the honours."


    "I will end you, Varen, if you ever suggest that again," the soldier replied almost immediately, grimacing as the very thought sent shivers down his spine. "I''d sooner rather him bludgeon me to death with his hammer before it comes to that¡­"


    "Might wanna keep that bit to yourself, lest you give him any ideas," Varen said, stifling a giggle. It was little wonder why Caelie teased Julien so much. "How long more do you suppose this will take?"


    Laughter erupted further down the section, and he glanced over at a group of older mercenaries engaged animatedly in conversation. Even Sergeant Wallen was drawn in to the discussion, and Varen smiled in relief at the sight. The tide of battle had turned, and the worst was over.


    "Another hour, maybe? The Captain''s leading the cleanup operation soon," Julien shrugged, peering down on the other fighters. "I know those below had it harder than us, but we haven''t had a single break."


    "And you''ll get one, soldier."


    They turned at the approaching voice, and found said Captain behind them. Julien immediately gave a nervous salute, which Reid acknowledged with a nod. Splatters of blood stained his dark-green greatcoat, proof that the man had been in the thick of combat and adding to his already inspiring image.


    "I was supposed to lead the cleanup group, but a matter has been brought to my attention. I''ve thus entrusted Sergeant Klein below with clearing up the remaining goblins," said Reid matter-of-factly. He turned his gaze to meet Varen''s and asked, "I presume you''re Junior Archivist Ashtar?"


    "Yes sir?"


    "The matter I speak of concerns you. Please, come with me," Captain Reid said, turning and gesturing for Varen to follow. He paused mid-turn, as if suddenly recalling something, then added, "Ah right. Private Julien, do join us."


    Julien swapped a quizzical look with Varen, and the two quickly grabbed their weapons. They followed the Captain along the battlements, past the first flight of stairs that they had come up on, and Varen wondered where he was taking them. The soldiers saluted their commanding officer as he passed, and the adventurers that were familiar with Reid shouted out their greetings as well, which the man returned with a smile.


    "Wow, you''re really popular, aren''t you sir?" observed Julien, almost immediately regretting speaking with the highest-ranking officer in the town so casually.


    The Captain didn''t seem to mind it too much, thankfully. He gave Julien a sideways glance and chuckled, "I did learn from the best, after all."


    "Are we in trouble, sir?" Varen asked, slightly nervous.


    "Oh no, nothing of the sort. Trust me, I wouldn''t be as accommodating if you''d done something wrong," Reid said smoothly. "It''s regarding your mission, if that''s any comfort."


    It was, in the fact that it reminded Varen of his task. The matter had been pushed to the back of his mind once he had started getting into the rhythm of the battle. Making a mental note to check The Fate of the World later just in case anything in it had changed, he asked, "Are Kleven and Caelie ¨C my companions ¨C already there?"


    "They are. The Chief just spoke to me, in fact, which is why I came to get you," stated Captain Reid. "I understand your mission is of the utmost importance, and he''s left it to me to handle your preparations, as he usually does with important matters. There have been some complications, and you''ll need to discuss them with your companions before we can move forward."


    "Huh¡­" Varen furrowed his brows, speculating on what the complications could be. Perhaps the Head Majstor had obtained more information about the validity of the prophecy?


    "Varen? Is that you?" a feminine voice called out as they started down another flight of the battlement stairs, interrupting his thoughts. It was eerily familiar, and Varen spun to face the voice''s owner. A flash of orange-red hair was all he saw before the person engulfed him in a tight embrace. "It really is you! It''s been so long! You''re in grey robes! Are you an Archivist now?"


    "Miren, I¡­ can''t breathe," Varen choked out, struggling in the woman''s grip. She squealed out an apology and released him from the hug, her embarrassment apparent. "What are you doing here, Miren?" asked Varen between breaths.


    Miren grinned, posing with her arms akimbo on her hooded black robe. "I left the Majstoria life behind. I''m a proper adventurer now, tried and tested!"


    "You got into the Majstoria? Wait, wait. So that lightning spell from before ¨C that was you? You''re part of the Purple Robes?" Varen asked incredulously, and her proud grin grew wider.


    "Mhm. Clever name, isn''t it? I take it you liked my spell then, Var."


    Varen stared at her for a moment, speechless. She seemed so different than what he remembered. Dozens of questions popped up in his head, but before he could put them into words, Captain Reid cleared his throat, drawing both their attentions.


    "My apologies, Miss Glacer, but I''m afraid Mr Ashtar here is in a bit of a rush at the moment. I''ll have to ask that the two of you catch up later."


    "A-ah, yes. That''s not a problem, Captain Reid. Please, don''t let me keep you," Miren replied stiffly, her head bent in a slight bow. Turning back to Varen, she said, "I''m staying in the tavern beside the Guild, come find me later, yeah Var?"


    Varen only had time to nod before Reid placed a hand on his shoulder and began guiding him down the stairs toward their intended destination. Miren gave him a small wave from the top of the stairs, and he returned it, still slightly bewildered from meeting her in such a place after so many years. She was the last person from his past that he''d expected to see again, though he supposed out of everyone he knew then, she was the only one he was truly glad to bump into.


    "So¡­ Var, eh?" Julien whispered, nudging him in the shoulder with a wink. "Was that the ''older sister'' you were talking about?"


    "Yes, that was her. It''s just a nickname, nothing more," Varen answered in the most nonchalant he could muster, unwilling to give the brown-haired boy more ammunition to use in his attempts at teasing.


    Julien crossed his arms and pouted, clearly irked by the neutral response. Giving Varen an accusing look, he cried, "What unholy ritual have you performed in the past? Why are all the women in your life so beautiful?"


    "I believe a lot of it can be attributed to luck," Captain Reid pointed out, an eyebrow raised at Julien''s behaviour. Julien groaned and buried his reddening face into his palms, having forgotten that his superior officer was there with them. Varen nearly fell over trying to hold back his eye-watering laughter at the scene, and Julien began slapping him in the sides, in an effort to make him stop.


    "You two remind me of my younger days. Especially you, Private Julien," the Captain said mirthfully, watching their antics with amusement as they walked down a quiet street in the south-western part of town.


    "I do?" asked Julien, suddenly curious about the older man''s youth.


    "Indeed. Cherish these moments, for they might not last," Reid concluded in a more serious tone, and they fell silent at the sudden weighty atmosphere. Varen cast his eyes on the cobblestones beneath his feet, knowing all too well the truth of the statement.


    They turned off the street into a residential area, lined with colourful cottages. The road was wider than the town''s usual streets, and each cottage even had a small front yard. It was spacious compared to the boarding houses and shophouses that most of the townsfolk lived in, and Varen guessed it was the part of town where the more privileged resided. They stopped at a particular cottage a few houses down the row, uniquely characterised by its unkempt garden.


    "Welcome to my humble abode. Don''t mind the grass, I haven''t had time to get round to cutting it," Captain Reid said, leading them up a small footpath to the front door. "Come, the rest are inside."


    He ushered them in, and Varen was surprised when the first thing he saw was the scarred mercenary from before, leaning on the wall in the hallway. The man wore a funereal expression, and Varen''s heart sank as he began to imagine the worst.


    "Did something happen to Kleven?" he blurted out worriedly.


    "¡­Not exactly," the man replied, scratching his bald head. "They''re in the room at the end, it''s better if you see it for yourself."


    The small room was dimly lit by a solitary lamp on a dresser table, but the poor light was more than enough for Varen to clearly see the bedroom''s occupants. His gaze was especially drawn to the unmoving figure on the bed in the centre of the room, and he froze as he immediately recognised who it was. She''d been stripped of her usual grey robes and now wore a clean plain white gown. Behind him, Julien clutched the doorway, the strength leaving the boy''s legs as he too took in the scene.


    "What¡­ what happened to Caelie? H-how? ¡­Kleven?" Varen stammered, his eyes flitting to the other blond twin who was seated by the bed with his eyes downcast. Kleven gave no answer, and Varen panned his gaze desperately around the room at the others. "Magnar? Captain Reid¡­?"


    The two men exchanged looks, and Magnar gave the subtlest of nods, as if he was a superior giving his subordinate the go-ahead to speak. Varen would have found it strange, but he was much too distracted under the current circumstances to even notice it.


    Clearing his throat, Reid recited, "Blunt force trauma to the base of her skull rendering her comatose. It was a simple pebble missile, but flung with much greater force, courtesy of a hobgoblin. Other injuries are superficial ¨C bruises, minor lacerations and the like. The doctors are hopeful that she''ll come to within a month, and there''s no signs showing that she won''t either, which is good news."


    Varen blubbered like a fish as he tried to think of something appropriate to say. "D-did she head out on her own?" he asked redundantly, and morose silence told him all he needed. "I''m so, so sorry, Kleven¡­"


    Caelie''s features were so serene as she laid with her arms by her side, starkly juxtaposing with what had happened, along with its mournful aftermath. It really didn''t suit her, Varen thought. She was supposed to be bubbly and full of emotion and energy, not lying unconscious in bed. It reminded him of his mum on her deathbed, quiet and still, and he pushed back a wave of sadness that threatened to overwhelm him. Stepping forward to the bed, Varen reached out for Caelie''s hands.


    "You know," Kleven finally spoke without looking up, startling Varen just before he was able to touch Caelie. The blond''s voice was emotionless and faint, but Varen heard every word clearly. "Everything, all of this, was her idea. We were homeschooled, and she wanted to experience studying with others when we made it to Ivolas. So we did. We would have been fine on our own, but it was what she wanted. Anything she wanted to do, we did ¨C as long as we were safe, I was fine with it. When we approached you in the Archives, it was because she finally decided she wanted to get to know you better, after seeing you around in classes and at work all those years."


    He paused to take a breath, raising his head to reveal bloodshot eyes. "I was very much against it when the Head Majstor assigned us on this mission. She spent the entire night convincing me, you know. It''s why she was so tired that morning. She wanted to see the world, to head out into the Unknown and become a proper Archivist. I relented after I made her promise to stay safe, to stay behind me if and when we encountered any danger. I¡­" he faltered for the first time in his long speech, "I¡­ thought she understood."


    "I regret it all, Varen," Kleven continued with a weary smile. Gone was the dependable image of his broad back and shoulders as he hunched over tiredly. "If only I''d been more resolute with my stance, then none of this would have happened. I¡ªNo, we. We won''t be joining you for your mission any longer. Perhaps we could have been the best of friends if we''d gotten to know each other in a different manner, but right now? Right now, I don''t want to see your face ever again¡­"


    "I¡­ I understand," Varen heard himself say, though he wasn''t exactly sure if he did. It was as if a switch had been flicked in his mind at Kleven''s last sentence, and nothing made sense anymore. The blond averted his eyes as he stared, and the words finally hit Varen like a ton of bricks. He staggered back unwittingly as he was reminded of unwanted memories, then caught himself. It''s different this time, Varen told himself. There was no animosity in Kleven''s voice, despite the message it conveyed.


    "I am sorry, Varen," said Kleven, his voice cracking slightly. "Please, go."


    That''s right, it''s different. It was Crowen doctrine never to give apologies freely, and Kleven was not one of them. Though, it didn''t stop Varen''s chest from hurting any less. Reaching out to do what he''d meant to do earlier, he clasped Caelie''s hand tightly.


    "Take care of her," he croaked. Then, without another word, Varen spun on his heels and walked out the door, gently pushing past a still stunned Julien.


    The front door opened and shut audibly as Varen left, returning the room to silence.


    "I suppose it''s time we all get some rest," said Reid after a moment.


    "Before we do that, I need to speak with you, Captain," Magnar spoke up, addressing the slightly younger officer. "Outside."


    "Understood," answered Reid without a second''s hesitation. Turning to Orval, he said, "Mr Farridge, would you mind escorting Private Julien here back to the barracks? I don''t think he''s in much condition to do so on his own."


    "Can do. Come on, lad. I''m not about to haul you over my shoulders, so let''s move those feet."


    "Wait, mercenary. Mind keeping an eye out on the Archivist boy as well?" queried Magnar, tilting his head in the direction of the exit.


    Orval shrugged. "You realise what you''re asking, old man? Will I get paid?"


    The older soldier nodded in Reid''s direction, and the Captain sighed, "Yes, you''ll get paid. Out of my own coffers if need be, it seems."


    "Fine then, consider it done," the mercenary chuckled softly. "Where do I find him? When does he leave? I need details."


    "Meet me at The Jilted Hare tomorrow afternoon, you''ll get them there. Come, it''s almost daybreak," Captain Reid said, ushering everyone them out of the room. Glancing back at Kleven, he added, "I''ll drop by sometime later. There''s food in the pantry, though nothing too fresh. Rest well."


    The blond nodded his acknowledgement almost imperceptibly, and the Captain left without further fuss. He sat still for a while, waiting. Waiting numbly for someone, Caelie perhaps, to sit up and tell him that it was all an elaborate joke. Nothing happened, and he fought back tears for the umpteenth time that night. Grasping his sister''s hand, he entwined his fingers with hers, then buried his face into the sheets by her side.