《The frontier of Baghatur》


 A new land.

    ¡°Staring holes into that fire won¡¯t light up your non-existent sense of humor¡± says his employer, smirking with his missing tooth. Employer, the thought alone makes him sick. He¡¯s a mercenary crossbowman from Arlon gate, supposedly been transporting goods through the edges of Altena Forest for nearly a decade now. Considering the avoidance of popular trade routes and how dangerous the forest has become as of late, the cargo probably isn¡¯t something normal like grain or cloth. Harold didn¡¯t bother to ask. His employer¡¯s name or what the cargo is, it¡¯s not his business, not anymore at least. Not since father¡­


    ¡°Hmph, won¡¯t even bother speaking huh? I swear, if I had to spend more than 3 days travelling with you I¡¯d be permanently crippled by boredom¡±.


    ¡°Yeah¡± is all Harold has to say.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re gonna be like that then I might as well hit the hay. You take the first watch, wake me up in four hours and we¡¯ll rotate. We¡¯re moving at the first sign of light, if the weather holds we¡¯ll reach our destination by the afternoon, you¡¯ll get your pay then¡± he says.


    ¡°Sure¡±


    The crossbowman looks at him for a moment before scoffing and going to his tent.


    Harold could only sigh as he ruffled his hair. Once called the most charming knight of the academy, can¡¯t even keep a smuggler entertained. What a sorry sight he was, his brilliant golden hair resembling a dirty blonde. Small bags had formed under his eyes from a lack of sleep and rust was beginning to edge into his armor, even his helmet wasn¡¯t spared.


    Harold, a man (boy) born barely 19 years ago. Third son of a duke, from a young age he was taught to be a proper noble, to bring glory to his house. Sent off to an academy upon reaching 15. A place where secondary children of noble houses prepare for their future as knights, bureaucrats, advisors and mages.


    Until recently, someone whose life was a perfect example of aristocratic elegance. So how did he end up here? Sitting in front of a campfire while calling a


    low life of society his employer. Sleeping in the wilderness like an animal, escorting a wagon that in all likelihood held cargo of questionable origin. All for a few pieces of silver. He¡¯d have fed himself to the ants had his peers at the academy seen him like this.


    Even now he felt a tugging sensation at the back of his mind. Just go back and apologize to father, go back home and stop wasting time on this senseless rebellion, he was long past that age. This wasn¡¯t how a son from the house of Lyons should be acting.


    He continues to struggle to push such thoughts out of his mind while settling down for his watch. It was cold, wet and uncomfortable and his steel plate harness certainly wasn¡¯t helping. He¡¯d have taken it off, but he didn¡¯t trust the mercenary to not rob him. If he lost his harness, he¡¯d likely be forced to go back to his family begging.


    No, neglecting his harness was unacceptable. It was the only thing that could allow him to pull through. He suddenly felt like a fool for allowing it to rust. Next week, he promises himself. Next week he¡¯ll scrub all the rust off and oil it properly (he ignores that he made the same promise a week before).


    With him mulling over his depressive mood, his shift seems to end in a flash. The mercenary takes up watch and Harold goes to sleep while dreaming of days that somehow feel distant and seem so near at the same time. Mornings spent with teachers of poetry, history and mathematics. Afternoons learning etiquette and swordsmanship, long evenings riding across his family¡¯s estate.


    He dreams of how it all came crashing down because of some pointless argument.


    With the unpleasant dreams filling his nights, day light couldn¡¯t have come sooner, and after a short breakfast the pair of them were moving once more. Harold drives the wagon while Harold follows on his horse, occasionally scanning the perimeter to make sure they don¡¯t get jumped.


    The mercenary tries to make some small talk, apparently his name is Vannol, before giving up after realizing that Harold is determined to ignore him as much as possible. After that it¡¯s silent, with only the sound of tapping hooves and rolling wheels to accompany them. Harold didn¡¯t notice that the forests was far too quite, it wasn''t natural.


    It was just a few minutes away from their destination when Harold heard something else, the scuttling of small feet. He sees them a moment after. ¡°Army ants!¡± Vannol yells as he rushes to load his crossbow.


    Realizing they¡¯ve been detected, a dozen giant army ants rush out of the forest foliage. Harold dismounts his horse to meet them head on. He can¡¯t reach them with his sword while on a mount. He suddenly regrets not grabbing his lance when he left home.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    *THWACK* a crossbow bolt hits one of the ants straight in the head, killing it instantly. ¡°Don¡¯t let them reach the horses!¡± his employer yells. Harold nods before charging. The army ants are quite large, if they were to stand on their rear end they¡¯d reach his shoulders. It was his first time seeing one in person.


    Nonetheless, swinging a sword at an ant and a human isn¡¯t so different. His first swing takes one of their heads clean off. He chains his swing into a thrust and kills a second one. Their exoskeletons are tough, but no match for enchanted steel befitting a knight of a duke. The ants attempt to bite his arms with their sharp mandibles, but Harold¡¯s been training with a sword since he could run. His stance is formidable, and he keeps just enough distance to not get swarmed while still being close enough to attack his foes.


    Harold has to admit, the crossbowman is certainly a sharp shooter. In a short period of time two more bolts find their targets, killing one and disabling the other. Harold seizes the opportunity; three quick thrusts kill three more foes. It was only a moment later that he realized his mistake. He had overcommitted in the heat of battle while there were still four more foes remaining, he¡¯s surrounded.


    One of the ants takes hold of his right arm from behind. It can¡¯t pierce plate but the unoiled, rusted surface of his armor serve to make it near impossible to break free from its grip. He only has a moment to curse his foolishness before one of the other ants takes locks his leg in its jaws and trips him to the ground. A third ant takes hold of his helmet and tries to bite through it. Harold thought he could hear yelling, but everything was lost in a haze of noise as mandibles met steel.


    With strength fueled by desperation Harold draws the knife on his waist and stabs, the ringing suddenly stops. He gets up to see Vannol engaging two of the remaining ants while the other lies on the ground with a bolt stuck in its head. The man is by no means a slouch with a blade but with only a gambeson and a buckler to protect him he won¡¯t last long. Uncontrolled rage welling up from within Harold completely forgets his sword and tackles one of the ants.


    The moment he took hold of his enemy, it felt like a dam that''s been building up his entire life burst. One, two, three, four¡­ Again and again he hits it in the head, again and again steel gauntlets meet exoskeleton. It almost feels cathartic in a way, to unleash his anger in such an unrestrained manner. With no worry for honor or glory. There was room only for the struggle of survival. With a yell, the seventh strike caves in its skull. He almost laughs out loud before he finally regains control of his emotions and reminds himself of how improper that would be.


    Harold takes throws his helmet away and lays on the ground there, panting, once again wondering how he ended up here, feeling satisfied for having caved in a creature''s skull when he should¡¯ve been training and learning at the academy.


    Vannol lets out a boisterous laugh as he approaches. ¡°Here I was thinking I was travelling with some disgraced snob, turns out he¡¯s more savage than any bandit I¡¯ve ever met!¡± he holds out his hand, offering to help Harold up.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m the son of duke! And I¡¯m not disgraced, I¡­I chose to leave¡± Harold says.


    ¡°Ha! If the sons of dukes were so willing to cave in an ant¡¯s skull with their bare hands then these bastards would¡¯ve run from the frontier long before I was born!¡± Despite himself, Harold couldn¡¯t help but chuckle at those words. He takes Vannol¡¯s hand. ¡°I suppose Harold the exterminator does have a nice ring to it¡±


    ¡°Heh, so you can speak after all, here I was thinking I hired the first autonomous golem. But exterminator sounds far too impressive, I like Harold the ''brute'' much better¡±. Vannol¡¯s face suddenly turn serious ¡°But to see army ants so close to the frontier, things have truly gone to shit in Altena ever since that goatfucker Joachim slaughtered the elves¡±


    ¡°That was 6 years ago, was it? I believe it was at Arlon gate. Isn¡¯t Joachim¡¯s involvement in the incident still under investigation by the frontier council?¡± Harold asks.


    Vannol scoffs ¡°Complete farce is what it is, ever since the elven clans were shattered Altena has become a no-man¡¯s land. The fact that army ants are so close to the walls is proof enough of that. The council is delaying his execution because they can¡¯t find anyone capable enough to deal with the situation, and as much as it pains me to say it, Joachim is about as competent as you can get when it comes to holding the frontier walls against the hordes.¡± Vannol sighs.


    ¡°Enough about politics and atrocities. More of the little bastards might swarm if they realize their scouting party got slaughtered. Less likely if they were to just disappear. I¡¯ll give you half your pay now, you stay here and burn the corpses. I¡¯ll deliver these goods to their buyer and hopefully we can put some distance between ourselves and the swarm before nightfall¡± Vannol says as he gets into the wagon.


    Harold eyes him with suspicion. ¡°You sure you won¡¯t bolt?¡±. The mercenary laughs ¡°Why do you think I hired you in the first place? Unfortunately, I like living and I¡¯d be as helpless as a dwarf in water if I encountered a scouting party like that by myself. What would I do without Sir Harold the ¡®brute¡¯ to protect my maidenly self¡±. He doesn¡¯t miss the emphasis on his supposed new title. ¡°Trust in my self preservation and wait here, I¡¯ll be back within an hour. You¡¯re not allowed to know our meeting place anyway.¡±


    Harold reluctantly nods and gets to work on dealing with the corpses. It¡¯s certainly not an enviable job. The smell is worse than any peasant latrine and he struggled to get a big enough fire going without any oil. After an hour of gagging and more questioning of his life choices he had all the ants burning in a big pile. Ant flesh looked terrible and smelled ten times worse, he had to wonder how the wall garrison dealt with incursions. He refused to believe that any guard would be willing to put up with this on the regular


    ¡°Still alive Harold?¡± Vannol smirks as he approaches, now with a much emptier wagon.


    ¡°Barely¡± replies Harold with a green face. Vannol chuckles ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you never get used to the smell, nor do you forget it. It¡¯s a lifelong companion for anyone living on the frontier. Know that you''re now forever bound to the fine aroma of the devils'' taint, truly exquisite stuff I tell ya¡± Harold could feel himself dying a little inside with each passing word. But he finds it in himself to smile nonetheless, he had just won his first serious battle, he had proven he had what it takes to survive and maybe even thrive.


    He¡¯d grimace, looking back upon these thoughts, thriving on the frontier had a very different connotation than that of his homeland.

 The old me

    ¡°You¡¯re far more talkative now.¡± Vannol says while stirring a pot stew hastily made using jerky and wild vegetables. It was nighttime now and they made good pace with the cargo no longer slowing them down. ¡°Willing to share what was up with you? I meant it when I said I was questioning whether I had hired some kind of golem¡±.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you if you share what the cargo was.¡± Harold says, not expecting an answer. ¡°Sure!¡± Vannol sees his surprised face ¡°What? It¡¯s nothing illegal, I assure you.¡±


    Well shit, he hadn¡¯t actually intended to share his past with anyone. He thinks for a moment before shrugging, ¡°I left my house¡±. Vannol scoffs, ¡°Yes, I have two working eyes, what led to it?¡±


    Harold sighs, realizing he¡¯s not going to be able to get out of this conversation. ¡°I got into a fight at the academy, a boy named Jacob accused me of charming his older sister and requested a duel. I accepted and accidentally broke his arm¡±. Vannol laughs at this ¡°Accidentally he says, ha! Harold the ¡®brute¡¯ indeed.¡±


    Harold glares at him for a moment before continuing. ¡°Father got mad at me, said that Strength is to be found in restraint, if you can¡¯t even resolve a conflict with someone 3 years your junior without beating them senseless, then you¡¯re no better than a chicken rooster¡± said Harold, impersonating his father, badly.


    ¡°I refused to apologize to Jacob and argued back against father, I called him a spineless coward, he threatened to disinherit me and soon enough I was rushing out of my home¡± Harold finishes his story, closing his eyes.


    There was a moment of silence, ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean ¡®that¡¯s it¡¯?!¡±


    ¡°Well, I was expecting something more dramatic is all. Plenty of young''uns come to the frontier in search of a new life. Usually they tell tales of loss and future revenge, yours is tame in comparison. You can return home at any time if you wish, the only thing to lose would be pride¡± Vannol says, with that same smirk that Harold was starting to hate.


    Harold does his best to push down the anger welling up within him ¡°I¡¯m not going back, I¡¯ve decided to make a life here and a Lyon never goes back on his word!¡±


    Vannol laughs ¡°Stubborn as a stallion! That¡¯s good, hold onto that, stubbornness can bring you far in the frontier.¡± he digs through his pocket before throwing Harold 7 silver coins.


    Harold is shocked by this ¡°Didn¡¯t we agree on 6 silver in total? You paid me 3 earlier so shouldn¡¯t it be 3 now right?¡±


    Vannol holds up his index finger ¡°First lesson every mercenary has to learn. If you¡¯re risking your life fighting someone else¡¯s battle make sure you get properly paid for it, you¡¯re a former knight in training with a full plate harness and a mount, take no less than 5 silver for 2 days of work. You can jack up the price from there depending on how desperate your client is.¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He holds up his second finger ¡°And clean yourself up! Your current disposition just screams ¡®please take advantage of me¡¯, you have to make your demands from a position of authority. Remember! They need you to save their life, you on the other hand can go without pay for a few days. You have the room to negotiate, clients usually don¡¯t.¡±


    Harold listens attentively as Vannol continues to give advice, he¡¯s been in this line of work for over a decade after all. As uncouth as he may be, the wisdom that comes from years of experience is to be respected. He soon realizes that Vannol taught these lessons with practiced ease. ¡®Plenty of young''uns come to the frontier huh¡¯.


    He finds himself respecting the marksman in front of him, helping out a stranger like himself, and likely many others, even if he has no reason to do so. ¡°You¡¯ve certainly got a bleeding heart, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re smuggling illegal goods¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not a brute like you, within me lies a pure maidenly heart. And like I said earlier there is nothing illegal about my cargo!¡± Vannol answers with mock offence.


    ¡°What is it then? You¡¯re telling me you bring grain and cloth through Altena forest to the middle of nowhere?¡±


    ¡°Spot on actually¡±


    ¡°Horseshit, no one risks their life to sell grain beyond the walls.¡±


    ¡°What can I say? This is a strange world we live in. Anyway, give me your bowl, the stew is ready, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re sick of eating nothing but beef jerky.¡± Vannol fills his bowl, it¡¯s a brown broth with a few pieces of meat and vegetables floating in it. He¡¯s surprised by the nice aroma, something that promises to fill him up and keep him warm throughout the night.


    ¡°Well? Try it.¡± He does, it''s surprisingly good. He realizes that this is the first real meal he¡¯s had for the last month or so, since he left home. He couldn''t cook, nor could he be bothered to learn while caught up in his depressive mood and he didn¡¯t have the money to buy meals from taverns. He¡¯s been subsisting on nothing but roasted game meat and whatever minor provisions he could get his hands on.


    Taking a moment of clarity to truly look at the last month, he realizes what a complete and utter fool he¡¯s been. Neglecting his armor, his physical health, and his training. Reviewing his battle with the army ants, the realization that this neglect could''ve gotten him killed sets in.


    An entire month of struggling with his thoughts, and of all the things that could¡¯ve snapped him out of it (a pretty girl, legendary adventure or a new great calling etc), it was a bowl of stew made by a crossbowman.


    ¡°Thank you, Vannol.¡± the mercenary just smirks ¡°Any time, the stew¡¯s good right? The wonders of Altena¡¯s bounty, and my cooking skills ofcourse.¡±


    ¡°Heh, with all the mentions of your pure maidenly heart and you showing off your household skills, maybe you should find a good husband to settle down with in some farmstead.¡± Harold jokes.


    ¡°HA, I¡¯ll consider it if it means I don¡¯t have to deal with burning ant flesh again.¡± They both share a hearty chuckle at the shared trauma of all frontiersmen.


    They talk a little more after that, and soon enough it¡¯s time to go on his watch. Although his thoughts are very different from the day prior. ''I¡¯ll return and apologize to father eventually, but not yet'', He decides.


    To return now would be to tarnish the name of his house. The House of Lyon was built upon the back of the competence of its advisors and the prowess of its knights. He would return home, but only after he has proven himself.


    What that meant, he didn¡¯t really know. But unlike yesterday, he was prepared to try.

 A new home

    There were no incidents the following day, they simply packed up and made their way back. He felt good, like he was finally himself again after weeks of hallucination.


    At the edges of his vision he could see Arlon gate, the largest one in the Altena frontier region. Built nearly a millennium ago, it marked the beginning of the unification period. It once symbolized peace and the united front formed by humans and the elven clans. Now? It was the grounds of a great tragedy, one that would undoubtedly become a lasting taint in frontier history.


    ¡°Let me know if you¡¯ve got any more work, I¡¯m strapped for coin at the moment.¡± Harold said as they officially declared his mercenary contract complete.


    ¡°Sure, you¡¯re reliable enough. You should also look for work in the mercenary¡¯s guild, I¡¯ll put in a good word for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Vannol. I truly appreciate it.¡± He truly meant it, for the first time in a long time it felt like he saw the world clearly once more.


    ¡°No problem, just try to avoid any uncouth work, things can get pretty brutal out here. And don¡¯t die! I¡¯d like to share a drink with you someday. I¡¯d ask now but I¡¯m guessing you have a lot on your plate at the moment¡± the marksman says while smiling.


    ¡°True enough, may god bless your journey.¡± Harold slightly bows his head and begins to ride ahead, his companion waves as he goes.


    He could see the frontier walls in the distance, every single tree in a three-kilometer distance had been cut down to allow for better visibility. The walls are a fearsome thing, stretching 30 meters high with a wide moat of water running at its base. Large watch towers had erected upon it, no doubt filled with guards prepared to signal the reserve should any incursions or invasions be detected. Thousands of men could arrive in less than an hour, tens of thousands in less than a day.


    This is the final border of human civilization. Below and upon its walls millions have met their ends for the last thousand years and will likely continue to do so for a thousand more.


    Despite its size and history, there is no grandeur to be found in its design. If he had to describe the wall in a single word, it would be practical.


    Not a tourist attraction by any means, but that is to be expected from a structure that stretched for hundreds of kilometers. The fact that the council was capable of maintaining and modernizing the walls at all was truly a testament to their strength and dedication to holding humanity¡¯s frontier against the endless ant hordes.


    It wasn¡¯t particularly difficult for Harold to get through the guards. Pioneers came through the area all the time, and Harold was clearly a well-armed traveler returning from an expedition of some sort. He supposes that the notion is technically true, any venture out beyond the frontier is considered to be an expedition, even if it was for shady dealings in the middle of the forest.


    First and foremost, he had to find a permanent place of residence. He had just arrived in the area when he took up that contract with Vannol, and he hadn¡¯t managed to find lodgings yet. He probably should¡¯ve asked his companion about it before they parted ways.


    The nearest city was only a 30-minute ride away, a metropolis named Alanfer, he was confident that he could make an arrangement with a tavern or a landowner to rent out a place to stay, especially so if he used his status as a high noble, though he wanted to steer away from making use of his title whenever he could. On that note he should probably clean himself up, it wouldn¡¯t do to negotiate while looking like a robber baron.


    He asked around at the wall garrison and was able to buy some oil for cheap, it¡¯s technically illegal to sell garrison equipment but he doubted the local quartermaster was observant enough to notice it missing. An hour of scrubbing, wiping and oiling later he wouldn¡¯t be out of place in a royal parade.


    He took a moment to admire his reflection in the water. The enchanted plates of his armor hummed in power with the energy flowing through it, active now that he¡¯s run proper maintenance on it. While doing so he also planned for the near future, he didn¡¯t wish to camp in the wilderness any longer.


    He decided to avoid staying in the city, renting a stable to shelter and feed his horse would strain his already tight budget, it would be far cheaper to stay in a rural area. He could reach Alanfer easily enough should the need arise. The same guard that sold him the oil directed him to a local landowner named Thomas.


    The estate was located along a small river 30 minutes away from Alanfer. It was a quaint little thing, large fields of grain and vegetables with irrigation dug from the river, a few small cabins built along its edges with a larger house being located in the center. There were about a dozen men working the fields, some paused to stare at him while others only spared a quick glance.


    The few children who were playing nearby excitedly ran over to him, he could already tell what was about to happen¡­


    ¡°Are you a knight mister?¡± ¡°Where are you from?¡± ¡°Are you from the garrison?¡± ¡°Have you ever fought a dragon?¡± ¡°Does your horse have a name?¡± ¡°Your armor is really pretty¡± ¡°Is that your sword mister?¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t robber baron are you¡± ¡°Of course he isn¡¯t, he¡¯s like a hero from a story!¡± All of these were said in less than 5 seconds. Harold suddenly wondered if dealing with children was something taught in advanced communication classes in the academy. If not, he decided that it was a massive oversight.


    He spent nearly a minute being bombarded by questions and struggling to answer them as the farmers watched on with amusement clearly evident. The ones who were more suspicious of an armed man approaching also seemed to relax as they watched the horseman squirm under the pressure of children. This continued until one the farmers came over to disperse them.


    ¡°An ogre is coming for us, run!¡± ¡°Hey! My dad isn¡¯t an ogre, take that back!¡± The children all ran away, laughing and yelling. Harold could already feel his opinion of the landlord rising. Father always did say happy children meant a prosperous domain and a capable leader.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Little rascals, I swear we could lynch them on an ant swarm and they¡¯ll manage to kill its queen by talking.¡± Says the man, he was a rugged looking fellow with a straw hat and facial hair that would give a dwarf run for its money. His skin was well tanned from the sun and he had a strong build that can only be achieved through hard labor.


    ¡°I¡¯d believe it¡± He was still reeling from their relentless assault.


    ¡°Anyhow, what would you be looking for sir, we¡¯re good hard-working folk, got no quarrels with any nobles.¡±


    Harold supposes that his status as a noble is obvious enough with the decoration on his armor and sword ¡°I¡¯m looking for a place to stay, maybe for a few months. Would it be right of me to make such talks with the owner of that house?¡± he said while pointing at the large house he saw earlier. ¡°Thomas, I believe he was called.¡±


    ¡°Aye, that would be correct. I believe Sir Thomas is currently out at the moment, he¡¯ll be back in a few hours. His daughter should be home, make yourself comfortable sir¡­?¡±


    ¡°Harold Lyon¡±


    ¡°Patt, make yourself comfortable Sir Harold. Sir Thomas never turns down a guest.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your help, Patt.¡±


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Evelin¡¯s day was the very epitome of normal. She had cooked breakfast for herself and her father, cleaned the house, spent some time reading at the grove of trees near the river, and spent the rest of the afternoon studying. The only event of any note was father going out on his patrol. A simple and easy day, if a bit boring.


    Or at least, that would¡¯ve been the case if it hadn¡¯t been for the armored man currently standing in front of her home. The first thing she noticed was how tall he was. Evelin was hardly a short individual, but she certainly felt like it as she barely reached the man¡¯s chest. The second thing she noted was that he had golden blonde hair, a trait shared by most nobles from the eastern kingdoms.


    The third thing she noted was that she¡¯s been silently staring at the man for nearly 10 seconds, and he was starting to nervously glance around waiting for his greeting to be recuperated. She just hoped that he wasn¡¯t actually a noble and instead someone from the garrison or the reserve. It wouldn¡¯t do for her to offend a member of the aristocracy.


    ¡°My lady?¡±


    With that accent he was definitely from a noble family, quite a powerful one judging from his expensive armor. She made a fourth note that she was delaying giving a response, and that the atmosphere was getting ever more awkward as the seconds ticked by. She had to gather her bearings and give a dignified response befitting someone who was (technically)  also a member of the nobility. She¡¯s studied etiquette before (even if she¡¯s never had any practice), in this situation she¡¯d say ¡®Greetynges, mine lord¡¯.


    ¡°G-Greetynges!¡± ah, that came out wrong, a ¡®lady¡¯ isn¡¯t supposed to squeak like a rabbit.


    ¡°Greetings¡­is Sir Thomas home?¡± he said, thankfully ignoring her embarrassing situation.


    ¡°N-No, father isn¡¯t home at the moment.¡±


    ¡°I see¡± There was an awkward silence once more¡­


    ¡°Ahem, would you like to come inside? Father will be back in an hour.¡± She had finally put her voice under control and was at least speaking like a normal human being again.


    ¡°Thank you for your hospitality¡±


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Harold wasn¡¯t sure about what to make of the girl currently serving him a cup of tea. She did her best to speak in the old tongue, normally only ever used by ancient houses from the central lands. He hated them, his snobbish former peers from the academy that is. Always talking nonsense about the importance of their bloodline, not realising that the honor of a house depends on its current members, not ones who have been dead for centuries.


    Daring to call him a descendent of the mad king.


    He didn¡¯t really speak the old language himself but he¡¯s, unfortunately, heard it enough to recognize she wasn¡¯t a proper speaker. ¡°You don¡¯t have to force yourself, I¡¯m not from any of the central families¡± he said to reassure her.


    ¡°Huh?¡± She seemed confused, he guessed that she didn''t know much about the nobility so he decided to explain. ¡°The old tongue of the nobility is only spoken by a select group of families from the central lands; it went out of fashion for most eastern houses about a hundred years ago. We speak the common language now.¡±


    She seemed both surprised and relieved at the statement, she likely didn''t interact much with the nobility even if she was technically one herself.


    With the frontier council having so much influence in these lands the nobility were little more than minor land owners, some in the central lands would argue they weren¡¯t nobles at all.


    ¡°If I may ask, for what purpose do you seek my father?¡± Evelin asks, taking a seat opposite of him after placing some pastries that looked positively delightful.


    ¡°I''m looking for lodgings. I intend to stay in the region for at least a few months and a garrison guard directed me here. I¡¯ll pay, of course¡± He took a bite from one of the pastries, its appearance didn''t lie, it was delicious.


    ¡°That''s great! We have a few empty cabins, I''m sure father wouldn''t mind lending you one of them, you can talk coins once he arrives¡± She gave Harold a shy smile. ¡°You said you were from the east? You must¡¯ve travelled far to come here, is this the first time you¡¯ve come to the frontier?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I only arrived a week ago. I returned from a¡­ venture beyond the walls today. If it¡¯s not an inconvenience, would you tell me about the region?¡± Harold gave a well practiced charming smile as he asked. Combined with his sharp features, golden hair and distinctive ruby eyes, most would¡¯ve been enamored with his face. But the girl in front of him seemed more interested in answering his inquiry.


    ¡°This land¡¯s been critical to the history of southern humanity! There is so much to talk about, did you know that the city of Alanfer actually predates the frontier? It was founded as a fortress city nearly 1500 years ago, but it was during the unification era that¡­¡±


    ¡®Seems like we have a scholar here¡¯ Harold was honestly impressed. An education was difficult to acquire for someone living in the frontier region, especially in rural areas like this. Even more impressive is that her knowledge is of history, hardly a practical field of study for someone living on a farmstead. It was mostly things he knew, he had studied plenty of military history as a part of his training, but he had spent 5 years fully dedicating his time to learning at an academy with professional teachers.


    He occasionally chimed in with interesting facts or insights, Evelin seemed unexpectedly combative, in an intellectual sense, when it came to academic matters. Never willing to blindly believe something, but always willing to challenge herself and others to learn. It was quite nostalgic to discuss history like this, it almost felt like he was back at the academy.


    ¡°Have you ever received a formal education, if I may ask.¡± he said after a while.


    Evelin seemed quite embarrassed by the question. ¡°N-no, I¡¯m self-taught. But it''s my dream to one day learn at an academy and to work at a king¡¯s court as a steward. Even if I would be starting late in comparison to most others.¡±


    Harold was even more impressed, history wasn¡¯t even her intended field of study. Judging from how her eyes twinkled as she spoke, it was likely just an interest. ¡°Lady Evelin, I can quite confidently say that you are superior to most noble academy students two years your senior. So I wouldn¡¯t worry about you being late.¡±


    A crimson blush bloomed at his words ¡°S-surely you jest, I¡¯m not that impressive. Just someone who has too much time is all and please, you don¡¯t have to call me a lady, I could hardly be considered one¡±.


    Harold decided to press his advantage ¡°Not at all my lady. I¡¯m truly astounded by your brilliance, I¡¯m sure that you¡¯ll have no difficulty graduating in a year if given the chance.¡± He was slightly exaggerating, but it was fun to tease someone like this.


    It was at that moment that someone who he assumed to be Thomas walked in.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know we were having a guest, hopefully this girl of mine didn¡¯t talk your ears off?¡± He said casually, somehow not at all worried about an armed man being alone with his daughter.


    ¡°Not at all sir, she was a delightful conversationalist. As bright and beautiful as a polished gem.¡± Harold watched with morbid curiosity as Evelin somehow became even redder.


    He could already tell that life here was going to be interesting.

 Two Knights

    Thomas wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about his newest tenant. On one hand, he was a trained knight with a full plate harness and a good head on his shoulders (or at least so it seemed), not to mention he''s a Lyon. Normally he¡¯d be willing to let him stay for free, Thomas himself was once a knight of the reserve, he was granted his estate as a reward for his service, and he was more than capable of dealing with any foolish bandit attempting to rob him. But he was getting old, and he had no illusions about bandits being smart, there was always the chance they¡¯d try something. Harold was a large intimidating figure in his armor, and bandits were stupid, not suicidal, they wouldn¡¯t challenge a knight in his prime.


    Not only that, it was good for Evelin to interact with nobles her age. It¡¯s good practice for when she makes her dream of attending an academy come true. The two of them appeared to be getting along great, and he was glad for that.


    So what¡¯s the problem? The problem was that they appeared to be getting along great. It wasn¡¯t exactly normal for a member of a powerful noble house to be looking for lodgings near the frontier. His intentions were questionable at best, and it was very possible for him to be someone of impure alignment. And even if he was a good person, there¡¯s always the possibility of death. He didn¡¯t want Evilin to face grief so soon after Annah¡­


    Thomas wipes the tears welling up in his eyes and pushes down the bitterness rising in his heart. No, he couldn¡¯t protect her forever, she had her own life to live, he could only hope to soften the blow if the time were to come.


    ¡°This is the cabin, it''s been unoccupied for a few years so it might need a good cleaning.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Sir Thomas.¡±


    ¡°Follow me, you can house your horse in the stables.¡± He took a good look at Harold''s stallion; it was definitely no riding horse. Too big, too muscular, it also had a raging fire in its eye that could only belong to a warhorse that enjoyed a fight. Yet it seemed to make no attempt to buck off its rider nor did it have temperamental tantrums. The skill of its rider? Or perhaps loyalty to its owner? ¡°He have a name?¡±


    Harold thought for a moment, he didn¡¯t. He¡¯d simply been calling the stallion ¡®his horse¡¯. Well, better late than never he supposed. ¡°Atlas, His name is Atlas¡± he decided.


    ¡°When mount and rider become one miracles can be achieved. From its sight alone I can tell that horse will follow you to hell and back, make sure you give it the respect it deserves.¡± Thomas traces his fingers along a scar on the neck of his own horse. For single moment Harold thought he saw a wistful look in the veterans'' eye, but it disappeared as quickly as it lasted.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He definitely had some history with his mare, he supposed that most veteran cavalrymen did. ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡±


    ¡°Charlotte, I¡¯ve long lost count of how many times she¡¯s saved my life. Poor creature, truly unfortunate to have been saddled with a reckless fool like myself. Thankfully she¡¯s been able to take it easy for a while now.¡±


    The stables weren¡¯t far from his cabin, only a 5-minute walk away. He unsaddled Atlas and gave him hay and an apple, Thomas did the same.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you get tired walking around in your harness all day? I¡¯m getting exhausted just looking at you. I assure you my estate is quite safe.¡± Thomas said as they walked back.


    Harold chuckled and shook his head ¡°I¡¯ve always had excellent stamina, I hardly notice the weight of my armor, even if it¡¯s uncomfortable at times.¡±


    Thomas eyes him skeptically before sighing dramatically ¡°That kind of stamina won¡¯t last into your 40s, I¡¯d know. Treasure it while you still can¡±


    Harold only smirks in response.


    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Harold added doing house chores to his quickly growing list of new experiences, thankfully it wasn¡¯t so different from maintaining his armor, nor did it smell like burning ant. Always look on the bright side of things, they''d say. Now that he had a proper roof over his head, he had to face his second and main problem: his finances. After his contract with Vannol he had 12 silver, he spent one on the oil he bought from the garrison and he paid 4 silver for his first month¡¯s rent. That left him with 7 silver, he had to get himself a lance, that¡¯d likely cost 4 and he had to replenish his travel supplies, which would be another silver out of his coin purse. That left him with just 2 silver, hardly enough for the purchases he had planned.


    First he had to overhaul his cabin, he may have been getting used to rough living, but he refused to sleep in a straw bed that likely hadn''t been changed for years. He had to replace the bed, get a proper pillow, refurnish the kitchen (and hopefully learn how to cook while he¡¯s at it), decorate, and maybe even establish a reading room to continue his studies. Maybe he could invite Evelin over after he was done.


    On a more militaristic note, he¡¯d have to get Atlas some armor, he wasn¡¯t comfortable charging enemies without something to cover his mount. He almost had a heart attack remembering how expensive his own harness was, he definitely wasn¡¯t buying plate barding (horse armor) any time soon. Leather would have to do in the short term.


    He was starting to have a headache thinking of his near destitute status, even if his possessions were actually more valuable than what most people would make in a lifetime. But such thoughts never crossed his mind. Managing his purse was much easier when income meant asking father for coin or winning a jousting match.


    He¡¯d have to find work as soon as possible, he¡¯ll head into Alanfer tomorrow and see what he can find. Hopefully, there¡¯s something worth his time there.

 Troll jousting

    Harold walked through the doors of the mercenary''s guild, his brand-new lance in tow, and took a moment to observe the people who were present. They varied greatly, though most looked quite similar to Vannol. Leather, chainmail or gambesons with weapons such as spears, bows, crossbows, bucklers and short swords. More notable figures included a couple of robed individuals who were clearly mages, a group of elves trying their best to avoid drawing any attention to themselves, and a few people with plate harnesses. He noted with some pride that theirs were clearly of much lower quality in comparison to his.


    People sent plenty of curious sights his way, it wasn''t everyday someone new with an enchanted steel plate showed up after all.


    He walked up to the notice board to observe various contracts. If he understood correctly then the guild itself did not offer any work, they merely served as an enforcer to make sure contracts are fulfilled and pay is handed out properly, while taking a small share themselves of course.


    Most of the work posted was quite tame in nature, guarding caravans to other cities, manual labor and the like. More dangerous work included bounties on bandits and thieves, scouting missions beyond the wall. Truly grand scale work were mostly issued by the council, mass reconnaissance and expeditions beyond even the massive Altena Forest, serving as a peacekeeping force between warring nobles, and even an extermination order on a giant ant nest.


    Among the council contracts there was one in particular that caught his eye, a relatively minor one despite being issued by the council. An elimination order on a troll that''s been raiding villages, they are normally easily dealt with by the garrison, but this one has been avoiding confrontation with the military. The council was offering 2 gold for locating the nest and 3 more for eliminating it (1 gold is worth 10 silver). It seemed like the perfect contract for him, it paid well, and he could retreat if things got too dangerous, a troll wasn''t catching up to a man on horseback.


    He took the notice to the receptionist fully prepared to put Vannol''s tips to use just to find out that you can''t negotiate payment for council issued work, you either took the pay offered or didn''t take the contract. He supposed it was fine for him either way, in some ways it made his life much easier. Apparently, the troll has been raiding villages to the west of here, the latest report coming from a village named Sonin. He could get there in less than an hour if he moved now.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The ride to Sonin was calm and he had lunch along the way. The grassy deforested hills of the frontier region being the only thing to fill his sight, and soon enough he was standing at the gates. It was a small livestock village, likely even smaller than Thomas''s farmstead.


    One of the people caught up in the raid explained that the troll wounded 2 people and took off with a cow, relatively low losses considering how dangerous trolls were to the average person. This was supposedly the second raid, with the previous one going much the same. The troll came after dark, assaulted the guards and ran away with livestock.


    It had likely taken up residence in a cave at the base of the mountain to the north. Several people have already made differing reports of seeing the troll in one of the caves, but every time a squadron from the garrison arrived the reported cave would be empty. Thankfully the village had a map detailing the entire region, he could simply check them one by one until he found its nest and killed it.


    The northern mountain was a strange landmark, it was a lone peak that was disconnected from the rest of the Otgon mountain range that connected the northern and southern frontier.


    There were a dozen caves around the base, that''s where he''ll find his prey. Harold tried to call upon any information about trolls that he knew of as he made his way there. They were large stupid creatures, extremely strong and famed for their stamina. They were naturally capable of stemming bleeding very quickly, the only way to kill them was a single decisive strike to a vital organ. A pike formation of a dozen men made short work of the brutes, but Harold obviously couldn''t do that here. He''d have to kill it with a decisive charge, ''not at all different from a jousting match'' he humorously thought.


    Still, he didn''t fail to notice how empty of wildlife the area was. Trolls consumed large amounts of food, likely the reason why they lived alone, the one that had taken up residence here must''ve over hunted and resorted to raiding to feed itself. Trolls may be stupid but thousands of years of history have drilled into them the danger of an organized community. Afterall, the species were hunted to near extinction, by both humans and giant ants. They wouldn''t attack human settlements unless they were desperate.


    Each cave he checked was filled with animal bones and signs of it once being occupied, though not anymore. Each one was empty of trolls, it was just when Harold was beginning to get frustrated with his lack of progress that he finally found his prey. It was standing in a large clearing in front of its cave; it appeared to have been waiting for him. Harold wasn''t surprised¡ªhis presence had likely been noticed long before he arrived.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    What shocked him was the appearance of the troll. It was massive, if he had to guess it was well over 5 meters tall and likely weighed more than 5 tons. Much larger than the average troll, which explained the overhunting. But that wasn''t the most notable feature of the creature standing in front of him, it was the fact that it had armor. Not of great quality mind you, it was a crude collection of metal plates tied to its body using leather straps. It took a moment for Harold to realize that the plates once belonged to someone, it was a collection of individual bent harnesses. If he were to fall here, his will likely be added among them.


    Despite their crudeness Harold immediately recognized the problem they caused, he couldn''t get a clean strike to a vital organ. The only target was its helmetless head, a disproportionately small thing that had an ugly sneer wiped across it, nearly six meters in the air. He''d have to be right next to it to land a hit with his lance, not a great idea to get that close when their opponent was 5 times the weight of him and his mount combined.


    The troll simply stood there, looking at him while brandishing its concerningly large club, one hit from it wouldn''t kill him, but it certainly would hurt. Harold began to circle around his opponent, observing it. It simply stared back; it was smart enough to know that it couldn''t reach a man on horseback.


    He wasn''t getting anywhere like this, he had to test the troll, see how fast it was. If he was lucky, he''d be able to put it down with a single charge. He and Atlas rapidly pick up speed, continuing to circle the armored troll. Walk, trot, canter, gallop. Soon enough the troll is facing a ton of muscle and steel rolling towards it at over 50 km/h. Faced with such an opponent, even a drake would consider retreat.


    But the plate trophies of this troll weren''t just for show. When Harold gets close enough it raises its massive club and swings with surprising agility, completely catching him off guard. Only years of jousting allows Harold to react, practically throwing Atlas out of the way.


    Alas, he wasn''t quite quick enough, he was grazed in the shoulder. His pauldron groans under the pressure, deforming before setting itself back to its original shape, the wonders of enchanted steel. His excellent armor prevents his arms from being completely crushed, but his shoulder is badly bruised, and he is almost thrown off his mount. The troll doesn''t chase after them, Atlas was untouched and quickly made some distance from the troll before stopping.


    Harold understood the situation now; the troll was too dangerous for a lone rider to face alone. It would move nests once found if the attacker escapes, with those bold enough to put it down by themselves meeting a grim fate at its hands. Yet, Harold doesn''t consider retreat for a single moment, his pride as a knight of Lyon wouldn''t allow such an action. He would not back off before a mere troll.


    Atlas seemed to agree, the stallion angrily pawed the ground, digging up dirt and breathing heavily, though certainly not from exhaustion. He wanted blood. But before any attempts at victory were to be made, he had to better gauge his opponent''s capabilities. He drops his lance and draws his longsword, the lance wouldn''t hold up if he were to try to parry with it, and breaking the lance was as good as losing the battle, he wouldn''t be able to reach the troll''s head.


    Harold and Atlas charge once more, but slower with more caution this time. When the troll takes its swing Harold directs the momentum of him and his stallion in the same direction as the club''s trajectory, and Harold uses his sword to slightly push the weapon off course, making it miss entirely. Mount and rider working together have done the impossible, they parried the massive log. His arms are numb from the action, but that was hardly an issue worth noting with the adrenaline flowing through his veins.


    Again and again, they charge in for a skirmish before rapidly disengaging, Harold''s parries become ever more precise while the troll''s frustration quickly builds up. Its swings become wilder; it begins to chase them after disengaging despite knowing it''s too slow to catch up. Somehow, Harold and Atlas were doing it, they were beating a troll, creatures famed for their stamina, in a battle of attrition. With each clash it became slower, but so did Harold and Atlas.


    The parries were straining Harold''s arms to its very limits, and his earlier bruise was beginning to hurt despite the adrenaline. Atlas, even with his monstrous stamina, was also beginning to burn out. Each charge was slower than the last, each acceleration longer than before. They''d have to end the battle sooner or later.


    Eventually, Harold makes the decision to take up his lance and prepares for the decisive charge.


    "Come on Atlas, one last push and we send this bastard to the devil" His steed seemed to understand the notion, practically snorting steam as they began to take up speed once again. Walk, trot, canter, gallop. Once again, a ton of muscle and steel was rolling forward at over 50km/h. Scraping up dirt and leaving a cloud of dust behind, it was all or nothing now. This time the troll seemed far more hesitant to face them, and its swing came much slower.


    Harold tilts his body at the last moment, the club practically scraping his armor as he passes by. But as close as it may have been, the troll missed nonetheless, Harold certainly wasn''t going to. In one fluid motion following his dodge Harold slightly lowers his lance, aiming it directly at the troll''s head. Time slows down as both combatants see the lance inch ever closer, nothing could stop it now.


    When the connection finally comes, it comes violently. Harold''s lance practically exploded as it met the troll''s face, now nothing more than a useless half broken shaft of wood in his hand. The troll''s skull shattered like a porcelain vase, the explosive impact leaving nothing but a grotesque ruin of bone and flesh. The rest of its now headless body instantly drops to the ground, dead.


    "RAAAAGH!" "HHRRNNH-EEEEEEH!"


    Both Harold and Atlas let out their final guttural war cry and neigh respectively, the foe that had once towered over them lay beneath their feet, and the gory puddle of blood and brain matter to seep into Harold''s heart, settling into a deep sense of twisted satisfaction.

 The path back home

    Harold decided that going back to the village on foot was for the best. Using Atlas as both his riding horse and his war mount was already pushing it, riding him now after battle would make Harold a slave driver. With how close some of the troll''s attacks came to hitting them, it was an incredible feat of loyalty (and bloodlust) for Atlas to not bolt on him. He''d make sure to handsomely reward the stallion later, especially so now that he finally had a few coin to his name. Maybe he''d even get a bonus.


    He was looking forward to having some spiced wine. No, he was not feeling all giddy to be able to afford something as simple as drinks again. It was merely an after battle high is all, nothing unnatural for any warrior.


    A flare of pain in his shoulder snaps him out of his bright mood, he''d probably have to rest it for at least a week before he could take on another contract. A shame too, he felt like he could take on an ant nest by himself. But there was a thin line between pride and utter foolishness, and going into battle injured was clearly the latter.


    Now that his thoughts weren''t caught up with sharing wine with a pretty girl, his attention is pulled by the jingling of metal in his satchel. He was taught to respect the fallen, and he was able to recover some items that could be used for a burial. Mostly metal and wooden carvings bearing intricate designs likely belonging to mercenary bands and semi-noble houses. He counted 9 in total. He wasn''t kind enough to weep for them, but at least he could allow their families to do so and hoped someone would do the same should he be the one to fall in the future.


    He suddenly remembers that among the carvings is his own ring that he''s been trying his best to ignore for the last month. He brings it out to twirl in his hands as he walks. It was a masterful piece of jewelry. A silver body decorated by gold trimmings depicting the Lyon coat-of-arms made up its base while a brilliant red ruby was encrusted on top. He''s been too afraid to put it on. The ruby shined only for the honored members of house Lyon. If his father went through on his threat of disinheriting him, it would shine for him no longer.


    His somber mood lasts until his arrival at the village, the news of his victory is met with as much cheer and celebration that such a small community could reasonably muster, that being a big hearty meal and some drinks to go along with it. Truthfully, Harold found the food to be somewhat bland, but that was to be expected, and the cheers of the villagers more than made up for it.


    The humble celebration continued until evening, when Harold decided to head home despite the people''s invitation to stay the night; his new cabin was too close to warrant a stay. He also wished to collect his reward as soon as possible, and he did so on the way back.


    He received his promised 5 gold along with a bonus 1 after he reported the irregular nature of the troll. He decided to leave the carvings of the fallen with a council official at the guild for them to be identified. The man smiled and promised to pray for his safety.


    It was almost dark by the time he arrived at the farmstead; the homes of the farmers were lit with soft glows of candlelight and the occasional sounds of laughter filled the fields between them. He could also see that some buildings were without light or sound, even if there were clear signs of them once being lived in, his own cabin among them.


    Thomas was unsaddling his horse when Harold came to the stables, the old knight had his harness on. "Good evening, Sir Thomas. I''m surprised you''re out in your armor so late. I had assumed that you were retired."


    Thomas slightly bows his head in greeting. "Sir Harold. Your assumption wouldn''t be wrong, I retired years ago. I don my harness and circle the area every evening before sunset as a show of force to bandits, to remind them that challenging the knight of Speyer is a grave mistake that hundreds have made but never had the chance to repeat. It''s also good for Charlotte to get some exercise in, old as she may be. A good warhorse shouldn''t wither away in the stables"


    Harold also unsaddles Atlas as they speak, after which he begins to groom him. The stallion deserved at least that much for fighting so hard today. He made sure to buy plenty of treats, he didn''t know what Atlas liked so he decided to buy one of everything.


    "Does it not get tiring? To patrol your territory everyday, that is"


    "Sometimes, but I''m barely into my fifties. I''ll find a squire eventually, but until then? A little exercise won''t kill me."


    "Don''t most knights find a squire in their thirties?"


    "They do, but I wasn''t always a knight. I first joined the reserve as a scout. I was merely a sixteen-year-old stableboy somewhat capable of riding and that was apparently enough for the recruiter. I was only granted knighthood after reaching forty, when I retired from the reserve"


    Harold''s eyes widened in surprise "Do all reserve soldiers retire that early?" he asked


    "All cavalry except higher ranking officers do. Council organized exterminations are a brutal affair, especially so for heavy cavalry. Taking on an ant nest in its entirety is near impossible, we simply kill its queens before retreating, the rest of the swarm will be gone within a few years. Such operations require an unprecedented amount of reconnaissance and secrecy, to prevent the swarm at large from converging in defense of its nest, meaning the cavalry has to make sure not a single scouting party reaches the main body of the army"


    Harold considers the older man''s words for a moment. An extermination army would number in the tens of thousands at a minimum, such a massive force along with its supply lines would be easily noticed by any scouting party heading in the general direction of the army. Even if you were to arm every man capable of riding in the Arlon frontier region the cavalry would still be stretched thin trying to keep the fog of war up.


    "But shouldn''t that incentivize the council to have as many capable riders as possible? Isn''t letting cavalrymen retire so early counterproductive to that?"


    "Heh, being retired from the reserve just means not participating in daily drills or skirmishes. If an extermination is being organized, I wouldn''t truly have the option of backing out. I could still be called upon at any moment, until the age of 65 retirement is merely the council''s way of avoiding paying your salary" Thomas said.


    "Frontier politics may have far less intrigue in comparison to inner region courts, but it''s ten times as decisive and a hundred times as deadly to make up for it"Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Thomas makes a grim face with a haunted look in his eye "Tens if not hundreds of thousands of soldiers could be sent to their death at the snap decision of a garrison general. Joachim is proof enough of that, the elven clans may not have been officially a part of the garrison but they were integral to the history and defense of the entirety of the Altena frontier. Then there is the purge of bureaucrats that happened merely a year before the massacre, what could drive someone to such madness I don''t know, but considering Joachim is still breathing its clear politics had something to do with it."


    Harold ponders to himself once more. ''It seems just about everyone is in agreement that Joachim needs to be executed''. The more he heard about the Arlon general the more he was shocked by the fact that the man hasn''t been replaced yet. He was taught that the council had very little corruption, the militaristic nature of the entire governing body meant that any sign of bribery was met with brutal crackdowns, and it was difficult to take advantage of the common man when the majority of the people in question were career soldiers.


    Thomas seems to have noticed his contemplative expression. "Well, don''t bother yourself too much with it. There''s not much we could do either way. You should go rest that arm as soon as possible, I can tell you''ve injured it. I''m surprised you''re fighting anything that could get through enchanted plate, you fought a drake or something?".


    "It was a troll"


    "A troll? Ha, must''ve been one hell of a troll to catch someone off guard like that. Are you sure you didn''t just trip?"


    Harold was somewhat annoyed by the teasing, "Shouldn''t you go rest old man? You might not be able to get up tomorrow if you don''t get out of that armor soon"


    Thomas grins as he turns to leave "Watch your tongue brat, little children shouldn''t be saying such things to their elders". He''s gone before Harold could get one final comment in.


    Harold sighs in exasperation. It seemed like there''s something about frontier veterans and snark. He hoped he wouldn''t join their ranks in a few decades.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Harold got up at the first sign of light the next day, he had much to do now that he had a few gold pieces to work with. He dug through his belongings to find a set of clean clothes just to remember that he didn''t own any, he''s been living in his harness for nearly a month. Maybe Vannols'' comment on him being a golem had some merit after all.


    Surprisingly enough, both Thomas and Evelin were also up and outside. He supposed that rural folk worked with very different clocks than those from the city. "Good morning, Sir Thomas, Lady Evelin".


    "Good morning!" Evelin replied with a bright smile on her face.


    "Good morning, I know you said you don''t get tired walking around in your armor all day. But do you really need to have it on before breakfast? Surely you aren''t heading out to slay anymore trolls at this time of day" Thomas said with utter exasperation. Harold responds with an awkward laugh.


    "Trust me, I''m working on it"


    The veteran eyes him skeptically for a moment before sighing and heading towards the other tenants'' cabins, likely to get them up for the day of work ahead.


    "Lady Evelin, do you have anything planned for the day ahead?" he asked.


    She seemed surprised by the question "Not particularly, why?"


    "I was planning to head into Alanfer today, I was just wondering if you would be willing to show me around"


    She responds the moment he finishes "I''d love to! I''ll go ask father for permission" Evelin runs off faster than Atlas to catch up with Thomas.


    With how far away he was Harold couldn''t hear what was actually being said, but he could tell the general progress of the conversation. Denial from Thomas, Evelin gets angry¡­ Now she appears to be begging¡­ Thomas glares in his direction before finally relenting.


    Evelin runs back with a huge smile on her face. "It took the puppy eyes but father finally bent the knee. He said we could take the wagon and the workhorses there."


    "Quite gracious of him, hopefully I didn''t cause too much conflict. It wouldn''t do for family to argue because of my selfish request" The hypocrisy of his statement wasn''t lost on him.


    "Don''t worry about it, father is being overprotective is all. We needed to make a supply trip to the city anyway, I can show you around the markets while we''re there"


    "Thank you, Lady Evelin"


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    It was the first time Harold was driving a wagon; it was somewhat awkward to control two work horses at once. War horses were temperamental, they were trained to kick and bite on command but riding them often meant a constant struggle for control.


    Riding horses were much calmer and were always an absolute joy to ride. To an experienced rider like Harold it sometimes felt as though some horses were trained to be entertainers.


    From his very limited experience of driving a wagon, work horses appeared to be stoic, reliable and obedient. He''d say they''d make excellent war mounts, but they were a little slow due to their size and he didn''t fancy doing the splits while fighting.


    Atlas on the other hand was the perfect mount. He was calm while travelling yet unflinching in battle, obedient to a fault and had a near endless well of stamina. Even if Atlas was much smaller than work horses, he knew he''d put his money on Atlas being stronger (No, he totally wasn''t biased). Harold had to thank God for blessing him with such a mount when he had simply grabbed the first horse saw in the stables while running from home.


    ''Heh, look at me thinking about horses while a comely flower sits next to me. I suppose the frontier has a way of changing people''


    "Lady Evelin, I realize now that I know very little of you. Would you be willing to enlighten me?"


    A thoughtful look crossed her face. "About myself? Truth be told, I don''t know if there''s much to share. Unlike you and father I''ve hardly ever travelled, I''ve spent my entire life cooped up in the farmstead with the occasional trip to Alanfer. Father''s always been very protective of me"


    "May I ask if there''s a reason why he seems so reluctant to let you out? You''re seventeen right? That means you reached adulthood a year ago" As a third son he''s always been let off easier in comparison to his older brothers. He was sent off to live and learn by himself upon reaching fifteen and he''s been free to travel through the dukedom of his family as he pleases even since.


    "It didn''t used to be as bad, he once promised to take me on an adventure and show me the world when I reached fifteen but¡­ my mother was killed in a bandit raid four years ago and¡­" She goes quite soon after, unable to finish her sentence.


    "I''m sorry, it was insensitive of me to ask"


    "No, don''t worry about it. It was a long time ago. What about you? Your family I mean."


    "Both of my parents are alive, I have two older brothers and a younger sister but¡­ I never really got to spend time with them. Both of my brothers were personal wards of my father while my sister was personally tutored by my mother as the only daughter. I was free to do whatever I wanted and I was rarely included in courtly matters. I''d say I was neglected but¡­ I guess in many ways I was the one to push away my siblings. I was never a good brother, now that I think about it¡­ I ran from home, a month ago" Harold expected Evelin to be angry. It would be completely reasonable. She had lost her mother to tragedy, and here he was running away from the very thing that was taken away from her by force.


    The rage he was waiting for never arrives. Instead, Evelin looks at him with a smile, yet her eyes undoubtedly hold a deep sadness within. "You should go back someday. We don''t get to pick who we were born to, but the family we''re given is the only one we''ll ever have"


    Silence falls after that, until Harold responds with a resolute nod. He thought he could see the slightest bit of happiness shine through Evelin''s sad eyes at his response. The girl he was sitting next to was truly a saint.


    After a long moment spent pondering, Harold finally builds up the courage to take out the ring of his house. He puts it on with bated breath and¡­


    A soft red glow can be seen. The edges of Harolds'' mouth turn ever so slightly upwards to form a small smile.

 A white orchid

    In many ways, commoners on the frontier had it much easier than those who lived in other regions of southern humanity. Taxes were low to pull immigrants for the sake of increasing manpower reserves. Work was plentiful, an able body was all you needed to sign up for the reserve and those with talent had the chance to rise the ranks thanks to the highly meritocratic system of the frontier military.


    One didn''t even need to have a career in the military if you were merely looking to live a simple, honest life. The massive number of soldiers meant supplies and services would always be in high demand, even a simple farmer such as Patt could live with a roof over his head, have a full belly every night, and were even able to save up for luxuries like silk and fine wine.


    But frontier life wasn''t without disadvantages, the main one being caused by the same thing that enabled greater living standards in the first place: the military. With the number of men signing up to be soldiers there are bound to be some who had ambition for riches but didn''t have the talent to achieve it through proper means. Such people would turn to banditry. They couldn''t stick around for long with the garrison''s presence across the entire region, but they could make off with a single grand heist after robbing a rich frontier village.


    That''s why the land of Sir Thomas was so idyllic, no bandit would be willing to attempt an attack on a farmstead that had a fully armored knight patrolling every day. Every tenant, including Patt, was truly grateful for his protection. They''d be willing to march to war should Sir Thomas ask them to do so.


    All that''s to say, Patt respected Sir Thomas with every fiber of his being. And that respect was being tested to its very limits at this moment.


    "Preposterous! He shows up unannounced"


    "Why announce his arrival to a farmstead?"


    "Lives on my land" "Didn''t you agree to it?"


    "And dares to charm my daughter and turn her against me!"


    Patt could feel a headache forming, and it wasn''t because of the afternoon sun. "I''d hardly call taking her to Alanfer ''turning her against you''. Didn''t you have an argument with Evelin just a week ago about you being overprotective? She''s travelling with a knight, and he''s a Lyon to boot? Aren''t you acquainted with their current head? You always sing his praises whenever Lord Aberlin gets brought up"


    "Firstly, he isn''t a knight, he''s currently a mercenary! And just because he''s a Lyon doesn''t mean he is of the same ilk as Aberlin."


    Patt could only sigh in utter exasperation, Thomas was smart, but he could be more stubborn than a mule whenever Evelin was involved. "You have to let go Thomas; Evelin is an adult now. She should at least be able to travel with one of the first friends she''s made in years, as far as I can tell they seemed to be getting along swimmingly¡­" he didn''t have the chance to finish.


    "That''s exactly the problem! Think about it, Patt. A handsome well-spoken noble who''s likely had his fair share of women shows up and sweeps her off her feet. My poor girl will get smitten just to get thrown away after his fancy passes!"


    "As innocent as she may be Evelin is a smart girl and a good judge of character. She''ll be fine Thomas, you''re overreacting. Besides, from what I saw you seemed to be getting along with Sir Harold like a house on fire, surely you would''ve been able to tell if he was someone willing take advantage of her." Thomas grumbles, unable to form a response to the bastion of logic that is Patt. He had to remind himself that the man was once a quartermaster, there''s no winning against arguments against snakes like them.


    "Even so, I just don''t like it. There''s something hidden in those blood red eyes Patt, something not quite human"If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "Well now you''re just making up excuses, and you have the exact same shade of eyes! Relax Thomas, it''s just one trip to the city. What could possibly go wrong?"


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    "GET BACK HERE!" Everything has gone wrong. Just five minutes since they''ve passed the city gates and he''s already gotten pickpocketed. Well, ''pickpocketed'' isn''t quite the right word. It was closer to a snatch and run.


    The thief must''ve thought that Harold would be unable to catch up to him with his armor on, but he would show him the mistake of underestimating a knight. Harold was rapidly reducing the distance between them, and he could tell that the thief was getting desperate.


    The thief made several sharp turns among merchant stalls in an attempt to shake him off, once even jumping over one. Harold on the other hand was like a steel bull with his armor on, he charged through stalls, threw people across the street as he struggled to make sharp turns and destroyed merchandise in his fury.


    Eventually, the thief makes a mistake. He turns a corner into a dead end, and the raging knight has him cornered. The thief makes one last desperate attempt at escape, trying to run past Harold. In a single moment the thief is tackled to the ground¡­ and Harold sees red.


    Harold brings his fist down upon the thief''s face. He felt something crack, he could hear the thief begging for mercy beneath him. He brings his fist down once more. Everything becomes a haze of anger. He thought he could hear someone begging him to stop behind him. He ignores them and brings his first down once again. More yelling, irrelevant.


    Just as he raises his arm in preparation for a fourth strike, someone else places themself between him and his target.


    "Please sir knight, you have your purse back, surely you could spare this poor man''s life. Just hand him over to the guards. P-Please, I beg of you." Harold could see fear in the woman''s eyes and that she was shaking from terror. The thief lies on the ground, sobbing like a child. His broken face could barely be recognized as a humans'' and blood dripped from Harold''s gauntlets. He turns to leave just to see that a crowd has gathered behind him.


    Men stood in front of their families protectively as mothers tried to soothe their crying children. They all parted before him as he left, some ran away; even the guards seemed spooked. The scene felt all too familiar, just like his final day at the academy.


    Yet, just like before, Harold felt no guilt. Rather, the dripping of blood created a vague sense of accomplishment before settling down into disappointment at the weakness of his foe.


    ''Pathetic'' is the only word to cross his mind. He didn''t wish to dig any deeper into his thoughts, lest he see the source of such an ugly thought, unbefitting one of his station. So he did what he did best, he ran away, with the excuse that Evelin was waiting for him.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Thankfully Evelin was still waiting for him in the carriage. He had cleaned his gauntlets and recomposed himself on the way back. He was once again the knight that Evelin knew.


    "Did you manage to get your purse back?"


    "Yes, if anyone dares to think that I''m slow just because I''m in armor they''ll find out that they''re sorely mistaken"


    "You didn''t hurt him too badly did you?"


    Harold pushes the image of the broken thief lying on the ground out of his mind. "Not a scratch on his body, I gave him up for the guards to handle." It was very technically the truth, the thief was (badly) bruised, not scratched or cut.


    "Thank goodness, I was really scared there for a moment."


    Harold flashes her a smile "Thank you for your concern, my lady. Should we move on? I believe we have many stalls to visit."


    Evelin returns the smile "Let''s"


    The rest of the trip goes as planned with no incidents. Alanfer is a bustling metropolis and was the economic and trade hub of the region. The pair of them visit stores for essential supplies for Harold and the village; clothes, spices, tools, furniture and the like. They went to higher districts with the intention of doing some window shopping, but Harold ended up buying an orchid hairpin for Evelin.


    The crimson blush and the hushed ''thank you'' made the five silver more than worth it. He really had to figure out how she''s able to bring so much blood to her head without passing out.


    Their trip through the city ended with the two of them stuffing their faces with various street foods, even if the prices meant it was practically highway robbery.


    Harold offered his date a wineskin, spiced just the way he likes it, as they made their way back home. "Want any?"


    She looked at his offer with a very pensive face before finally accepting. A surprised look crossed her face after the first sip. "It''s good. What''s this?"


    Harold smirked in pride, he had good tastes after all. "Eastern grape wine mixed with Ghana spice. It''s a light drink, perfect for a long road. Surely this isn''t your first time having wine."


    Evelin shook her head. "No, but it''s the first time I''m enjoying it. P-perhaps it''s simply due to the company?" Her voice slightly shook with the awkward attempt at flirting.


    "In that case, it appears as though you have ruined every future drink I will partake in! Even divine nectar brewed by God himself would surely be found lacking without you to accompany it." He ended it with a charming smile and a wink.


    The girl furiously blushed before hiding herself behind her sleeves, holding back his laughter was the greatest test of will he had to endure yet. She''d need to spend at least a century meditating if she wished to challenge him in a duel of coquetry.

 Harolds diary 1

    32nd day of Humanus, Day 1 of writing. Thank you Evelin for this kind gift.


    Though I was reluctant at first, I decided to try writing a diary since Evelin suggested it. She bought it as a gift for me yesterday while we were on our trip (date?) to Alanfer. I wanted the first page to be special but I¡¯ve given up after a dozen crumpled papers. I¡¯ve also decided to ditch any attempt at ¡®writing with manners¡¯ as professor Langford used to say. I¡¯m sure old ¡®Dullford¡¯ would be furious (but really, when is he not?) if he read this, but he¡¯s the last person I¡¯d show my diary to.


    After waking up this morning with a clear head and an empty wineskin, I¡¯ve come to the conclusion that I¡¯ve grossly overestimated my ability to budget. I¡¯m almost out of money once again. It truly was a shock to wake up with only three silver in my pouch when I had six gold the day prior.


    I have also come to the conclusion that I would make a terrible quartermaster, as I have forgotten to buy food. Sergeant Garric (or was it Marshal Garric? Why couldn¡¯t he just be called professor like every other teacher?) would¡¯ve strangled me if he found out, and I¡¯m sure Vannol would laugh his ass off as he did so.


    Huh, Since when did those two get linked in my mind? I guess their manner of teaching is fairly similar, but Sergeant Garric should learn to relax once in a red moon while Vannol could use at least a single class on etiquette (maybe a whole semester actually, though I doubt even that would be enough).


    Either way I¡¯m an idiot. Thankfully the housewarming gifts of my new neighbors were mostly food, so I got through the day just fine.


    What was I writing about? Finances, right. So what did I spend 57 silver on? Well, I¡¯m proud to say that all of them were used on well thought out purchases that are absolutely necessary to my day-to-day life. Yesterday¡¯s purchases include:


    -A new bed, thick blankets and a feather pillow.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    -A compact furnace along with a pot, knife and a stoking rod (maybe I could get Evelin to teach me to cook?)


    -Some new clothes


    -A whetstone


    -A stock of oil for equipment and for burning corpses should the need arise


    -A magic crystal (just in case my equipment enchantments give out, however unlikely that may be)


    -Leather barding for Atlas (I¡¯d have liked something heavier, but I wasn¡¯t affording that any time soon. I¡¯d also have to get a riding horse, Atlas wouldn''t be able to carry me around all day if he also had steel barding on)


    -A new lance


    -Street food (an army marches on its stomach)


    -Spiced wine (absolutely necessary for troop morale)


    -An orchid hairpin for Evelin (also critical to morale, that ¡®thank you¡¯ could¡¯ve make the devil weep)


    -A tiny iron padlock with no key (I really can¡¯t explain the reasoning behind this one, might¡¯ve been slightly buzzed when I bought the damned thing off of that merchant on the road)


    -Now that I¡¯ve reread the last few items I¡¯m considering handing my purse to Atlas, he¡¯d probably do a better job of managing it than I.


    I was able to move everything in and give the cabin another checkover. I realized that the quick cleaning I did on the day I arrived was wholly insufficient. The cabin is much larger than I first realized.


    Two bedrooms, a kitchen, a backyard, and a cellar¡ªbig enough for a family. Considering Evelin¡¯s mention of her mother, I¡¯d guess that this place was under attack at some point.


    I was just about finished with (re)cleaning when a battalion of children¡ªthe same ones from before¡ªstormed my house, practically demanding me to tell them a story. They seemed quite disappointed to see me outside of my armor, I suppose I don¡¯t make as much of an imposing sight without it.


    I retold them my fight with the troll. I evidently wasn¡¯t very good at entertaining children because they stormed out just 10 minutes later, claiming that Sir Thomas told much better stories than I did. My pride wasn¡¯t shattered, nope, not at all. If Evelin or Patt ever says otherwise, know that the two of them are bold faced liars.


    I ended the day doing something I¡¯m far more comfortable with, maintaining my equipment. Armor could always use a scrub and a sword could always use some sharpening. It''s an eternal task that helps one relax, I¡¯d go so far as to claim it''s meditative.


    Notes for tomorrow: -Let shoulder rest properly


    -Take Atlas out on a ride, maybe join Sir Thomas on his patrol


    -Buy food (very important!!!)


    -Remember to meet Evelin by the grove (also very important!!!)


    -Avoid children at all costs (critical to continued survival)

 A mage and her expedition

    A week, he decided that he¡¯d rest his shoulder for a week. It was a short period of time, yet it felt much longer. He started patrolling with Thomas, Atlas would grow frustrated if he had no way of burning energy, and it wouldn¡¯t do for his new lodgings were to get attacked. He also met with Evelin everyday to read together. Books weren''t exactly his favourite pastime, but the company more than made up for it. The girl could explain to him how grass grows and he¡¯d probably find himself listening attentively.


    Other than that, there was one disastrous attempt at cooking that nobody thankfully found out about, and his daily training drills. The children seemed to enjoy watching his mounted manoeuvres. Thankfully, he had finally learned to deal with them, to a certain extent. Memorising their individual names and who their parents are helped a lot, he could threaten parental discipline if they started touching his equipment without permission.


    A method of dealing with a volley of questions still eluded him, but he was sure he¡¯d find a counter to that particular tactic soon enough.


    His life had finally settled down into a daily rhythm, and he was glad for that.


    But soon enough the ever crushing feeling of boredom began to set in. Despite it only having been a few days, he began to count the sunrises left before his full recovery. He almost stormed out to Alanfer on the sixth day, but managed to hold himself back since there was only one remaining, and a Lyon never goes back on their word, even if it was merely a promise to themselves.


    It was strange, he was desperate for a fight, yet he never had such issues during his four years at the academy. It felt as though something awoke within him after his first kill during his contract with Vannol. He felt like an addict that needed his fix, his daily drills only seeming to accentuate the problem.


    As he swung his sword he could imagine a foe being felled and their blood flowing down his blade before seeping into the ground, drip by drip. Their body would grow cold and pale as a puddle of red formed underneath. In its reflection he could see his own red eyes, yet it was no longer the brilliant ruby on his ring, but rather a lake of swirling red, not so different from the pond that reflected it.


    On the seventh day he nearly broke down the door of the Alanfer guild as he rushed in before recomposing himself after receiving startled glances from the people within. The contracts offered were different from the week prior, even if similar in nature. The only expectations being the higher-end council work such as expeditions and extermination orders. Supposedly those have been around for years.


    After a short period of consideration, he decides on a contract.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Divara found herself struggling far more than she expected. She had plenty of gold, she had hypotheses and the equipment needed to test them, she had contingencies and routes of travel planned in case of emergency. All she needed now was security, and even after a week of waiting and steadily increasing the reward offered, she had yet to find someone suitable for the task.


    Sure, over thirty people tried to take up the contract, but none of them were suitable. She needed someone who could travel quickly yet was still capable of defending her by themselves from entire ant work parties. They also had to be educated, god knows how much faster research goes if you have someone to bounce off ideas from, even if they couldn¡¯t contribute anything truly useful.


    Someone good looking would also be preferable, she¡¯ll get that paper on the positive link between sexy partne¡ªahem environmental beauty and intellectual productiveness approved by the executives one day, the institute couldn¡¯t hide from the truth forever!


    But after a week of waiting, she¡¯s at the point where she¡¯ll take anyone who could fulfil just the first two requirements. Loved as she may be, she didn¡¯t want to test the patience of the old coots back west, she had to bring results within a month if she wished to keep funding up.


    Her thoughts are disturbed by someone setting down a parchment of paper in front of her. She instantly recognizes it as the notice she posted.Stolen novel; please report.


    ¡°I¡¯m interested in your contract, an expedition near central Altena is it?¡±


    She tried not to squeal in happiness the moment she took in the person in question. He had very high quality equipment, which also likely meant he¡¯s a noble¡ªsomeone with a formal education. He was also quite handsome, sharp features complemented by an untouched, clean skin; his eyes were like a pair of gems encrusted on a silver piece of jewelry, drawing her in with their unique intensity.


    Divara takes in a deep breath to calm herself, looks could be deceiving, she needed to further investigate before entrusting her safety to him.


    ¡°Yes, that''s correct. I¡¯m Divara from the house of Valcairn, you are?¡±


    ¡°Excuse my rudeness for not introducing myself earlier, I¡¯m Harold of house Lyon¡±


    ¡°Lyon? I¡¯m surprised to be in the presence of someone from such a famed house, though some would use infamous instead¡± Harold slightly flinched at the last part, his family was nothing if controversial.


    ¡°Well, I suppose one could say there was some trouble back home. Nothing serious enough for a western noble to worry about¡±


    It seems like she¡¯s already been identified, definitely had a decent head on his shoulders.


    ¡°I suppose so. It has little to do with the matters that are to be discussed here. I was sent by the western institute of technology to study a small nest of leafcutter ants that have taken root in western central Altena¡±


    ¡°A leafcutter nest?! So close to the frontier? Shouldn¡¯t the council be notified of this?¡±


    ¡°Of course the council knows, the army ant swarm is heading in its direction so the fledgling colony won¡¯t survive the month anyway. Militarily speaking this nest means very little. Research wise? It¡¯s a great opportunity to study a species of ants that mostly lives on the other side of the Altena Forest, beyond the silver dragon. Studies on leaf cutters normally require a massive expedition and extensive planning, this is a golden opportunity for me to break into academia while spending relatively little resources¡±


    He gained a thoughtful expression ¡°So you¡¯re telling me that this is an extremely important expedition for you? I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re not just taking anyone as your aide then¡±


    Divara cheered inside, it felt good when a conversation partner was able to keep up. ¡°Correct. Firstly, what are your achievements and how experienced are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been training in swordsmanship and riding since I was five, my most recent contract involved eliminating a 5 ton troll¡±


    She hummed, impressive. ¡°Do you have a formal education?¡±


    ¡°I studied at the eastern independent academy from fifteen to nineteen, I didn¡¯t complete my education but I only had a single year left before leaving. Aside from core classes my education was mostly geared towards a military career¡±


    A dropout? And his field of study wasn¡¯t exactly ideal for what she had in mind, but it was much better than nothing.


    ¡°Do you have a mount?¡±


    ¡°I can assure you that my steed is second to none¡±


    Divara took a moment to think, excusing the action by taking a sip of wine. He wasn¡¯t exactly perfect, but she really doubted she¡¯d find anyone more suitable within a reasonable timeframe.


    ¡°We¡¯ll leave from Arlon gate tomorrow, arrive there at first light. We have a lot of ground to cover, also prepare enough supplies to get you through at least three weeks¡± She held out her hand, he didn¡¯t shake it. Instead sitting down across the table.


    ¡°Now, about pay¡± He flashed a very charming smile as he said those three words, her heart might¡¯ve raced had it not been for the wolfish tone. A shiver went down her back instead, she wasn¡¯t going to like this was she?


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Divara woke up the next day still feeling violated. In hindsight, speaking about the importance of the expedition so freely was an idiotic move on her part; Lyon ended up squeezing out an exorbitant daily rate. She could pay it no problem, institutional funding was no joke, but it still felt shameful to be completely out negotiated.


    Waiting at Arlon gate, she greeted her new companion with the harshest glare she could muster. ¡°You¡¯re late¡± she said, her words dripping with venom.


    He seemed completely unphased. ¡°No I¡¯m not, there¡¯s still 10 minutes left until our agreed time.¡±


    He was technically right, but Divara was anything if not stubborn. ¡°For one gold per day? I expect you to show up an hour early with tea and biscuits prepared¡±


    Harold rolled his eyes in exasperation ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to keep that in mind next time princess Divara. Should we set out? I¡¯m fully prepared to leave¡±


    ¡°Same here, we should leave as soon as possible. Help me up on my horse.¡± She said, assuming a stance that exuded haughtiness, chin raised, hand on hip, weight shifted onto one leg with eyes half closed. All carefully calculated with the goal of annoying Harold, and it was working wonderfully.


    The knight arched his eyebrows in response ¡°Can¡¯t do it yourself? Are you sure you¡¯ll be able to survive the trip ahead if you can¡¯t even do something as simple as mounting a horse?¡±


    ¡°I can, this is more for your sake than anything. Not everyday a brute like you gets to touch the hands of a supposed princess.¡± She said, throwing his earlier barb back at him.


    Harold¡¯s body stiffened at the word ¡®brute¡¯, Vannol and Divara must never meet. It presents the risk of the title becoming permanent.


    He sighs loudly while dismounting Atlas, making sure that his annoyance is clearly known to his employer. Reaching out with his hands he gently helps Divara up, he couldn¡¯t afford to give her anymore ammunition. His mental well being may very well depend on it.


    ¡°Let us go then, we need to make enough distance to leave the reaches of army ant scouting parties. I look forward to working with you, Sir brute.


    ¡­He was already starting to have regrets.

 The great Forest of Altena

    The Great Forest of Altena was truly a wonder of nature. It stretched out for thousands of kilometers beyond the frontier walls, its true scope still unknown to humanity, even to the elven clans that once dwelled within.


    It¡¯s a land that¡¯s been fought over for many a millenia. Billions of ants, millions of humans and thousands of elves have likely fallen within its borders, all on a quest to take command of its great bounty; both from the vegetation above and the riches below its soil.


    Harold still felt a sense of amazement while traversing the forest, there was no water for miles around yet the air was still thick with moisture, if he focused he could hear thousands of critters going about their daily routines. The sun couldn¡¯t be seen through the foliage, yet the trees held an otherworldly glow that lit up their surroundings.


    This amazement didn¡¯t stop him from getting annoyed when his employer stopped for the sixth time in the last hour to take samples from surrounding plants. Mumbling things he couldn¡¯t quite understand even if he knew all the words being spoken.


    ¡°Hmm, still the same signature¡­ strange, very strange. That could be explained by my theory but the marked reserve still doesn¡¯t make sense¡­ I didn¡¯t quite believe it when I first read about it, but it seems like all plants within the forest undergo mana interexchange somehow, perhaps a form of fungi web? But for it to stretch out over 20km¡­¡±


    This mumbling session was taking particularly long, Divara even took out her notebook to start jotting things down. They were probably going to be here for a while.


    ¡°Is this really necessary?¡± He knew it was stupid to hurry her, the longer she spent the more he got paid after all, but he was finding his patience stretched thin.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked, still not taking her eyes off of her notebook.


    ¡°Stopping every few minutes to observe plants, what need could there possibly be for this¡±


    She stopped and gained a thoughtful expression, tilting her head and looking up to think. He noticed she had a habit of doing that whenever something stumps her.


    ¡°I guess there is no need actually, all of this is very well documented even if unexplained. I guess I just wanted to confirm it for myself. Maybe I¡¯ll try to craft a hypothesis about mana exchange after this whole thing with the ant nest is done with. Now quite! I¡¯m thinking¡±


    Harold could only sigh in response, Divara was the one paying after all.  With nothing to do he could only observe her as she continued to write in her notebook. With her pretty round face, dark blue hair and clear auburn irises, he¡¯d probably have found her strange habits charming had it not been for her constant active attempts at annoying him.


    ¡°I¡¯m done, help me up onto my horse, Sir Brute¡± That one phrase haunted him the most.


    ¡°Would you be willing to stop calling me that?¡±


    ¡°No¡±


    For the umpteenth time that day Harold sighed out his lungs as he dismounted Atlas, and for the umpteenth time raised Divara up onto her horse.


    For the umpteenth time Divara felt a sense of petty satisfaction. She¡¯d have stopped by now had it not been for his overdramatic sighs, a dead joke isn¡¯t really her style, but he kept managing to breathe life into it.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    So their strange routine went on for a few hours more, until the sun reached its peak and began to shine in its unique grossly incandescent manner, managing to shine through the treeline above.


    They decided to stop and have lunch around the same time. The horses needed rest and the heat of the sun would drain their stamina if they kept moving. Unfortunately, neither of them knew how to cook nor did they know how to forage. Dried meat and goat cheese it was then, he was starting to miss his short outing with Vannol, if only for the one bowl of soup he had on that last night. He swore that he¡¯d learn to cook soon enough, if only so he wouldn¡¯t have to chew on jerky swimming in a sea of salt ever again.


    ¡°So, what¡¯re you trying to confirm for yourself exactly?¡± He asked, mostly to break the silence.


    ¡°A lot of things actually. Altena is very unique, and I don¡¯t just mean the sheer scale of it. The entire forest is its own ecosystem, almost completely separate from the outside world. The vegetation of Altena grows nowhere else when planted, and foreign species of plants die when planted in Altena. People used to think it had something to do with the soil, but recent studies have proven that false. Furthermore, plants of Altena grow extremely quickly, unnaturally so, it''s the reason why the forest has been so hotly contested for a millennium. It¡¯s an endless source of forage and lumber¡±


    Harold didn¡¯t know any of this, he did however remember there being a specific class at the academy purely dedicated to the Altena forest. Apparently this is one of the reasons why.


    ¡°So, why is that the case then? Is it something unique to the location or the weather that causes this phenomena?¡±


    Divara grinned like a wolf. ¡°That¡¯s the thing, we don¡¯t know. A thousand years of study and we still don¡¯t really know why Altena is the way it is. The elves claim it''s because of a divine spirit, the southern church attributes it to God, I think it¡¯s because the plant life here can use mana to cast rudimentary spells¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re saying the plants around us are mages? Surely not. I studied magic and was declared inept at it. My teachers said it requires a certain state of mind, something I¡¯m fairly certain plants don¡¯t have¡± It was quite frankly offensive to consider the idea that these plants had more talent in magic than most of humanity.


    ¡°But, who said that has to be the case? It¡¯s been believed that magic is cast by using one¡¯s will to bend the mana within the body. The idea has held true for most theories but there¡¯s no actual proof! We don¡¯t know how magic is cast, we only know the method for doing it. If our idea of magic has been completely wrong for thousands of years, Altena could be the key to the truth! It¡¯s the entire reason I dedicated my life to studying this forest!¡±


    Divara¡¯s face turned sour, ¡°It¡¯s why I¡¯ve sacrificed so much to be here¡± she whispered out, it likely wasn¡¯t meant for his ears, but he heard it nevertheless.


    He felt a sense of camaraderie begin to form for the mage in front of him. They were both nobles far from home, trying to pursue their own personal goals, even if hers were clearly far more well defined compared to his.


    He decided to push her further, she seemed to be enjoying talking about the mystical place they were in, better that than dwelling on the path walked to arrive here. ¡°What makes you think that the vegetation here is using mana? Why wouldn¡¯t other plants do the same?¡±


    She regained the fire in her eyes as she continued ¡°The plants here? They all have the same mana signature. Every living being produces mana in some way, but their frequencies slightly change from individual to individual. The only exception being the plant life of Altena,  I have a hypothesis that it has something to do with what I call ley-lines, blood vessels of the world itself that strengthen at some places to create massive pools of mana below the ground. I believe that the vegetation here draws upon those ley-lines to fuel their growth, and because they¡¯re all drawing upon the same river of mana they have the same signature!¡±


    Harold smirked in amusement, who knew someone could have such a passion for plants? Even if he didn¡¯t really get what the excitement is for, Divara¡¯s enthusiasm was infectious.


    ¡°In that case, we¡¯ll have to make sure this expedition goes as well as possible don¡¯t we? Maybe you¡¯ll be able to get the support needed to figure all this out if we manage to find out something new from these leaf cutters¡± he extended his hand out to his companion.


    ¡°Here¡¯s to happy research¡±


    Divara gained a toothy smirk. ¡°To successful research¡± she shook his hand.


    Her auburn irises gained a mischievous glint. ¡°You know, I¡¯m surprised Sir Brute is such a good partner for conversation, maybe I¡¯ll have to stop calling you that¡­then again, I wouldn¡¯t want to give you the wrong idea. You might start thinking you have manners¡±


    The person in question gave her a deadpan look ¡°You want to talk to me about manners? Really?¡±


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not the one who supposedly caved in an ant¡¯s skull with their bare hands¡±


    His eyes widened in shock ¡®How does she know that?!¡¯


    Divara¡¯s grin turned feral, reminding Harold of a blue furred wolf ¡°So you are the one! You¡¯re the one that old crossbowman was blabbering about!¡±


    It felt like Harold was about to have a stroke, it seems like he had failed his quest of preventing a meeting between Vannol and Divara long before he even began. It seemed like he would be known as Sir Harold the ¡®brute¡¯ for the foreseeable future.


    Someone was going to die for this.

 The leafcutters

    Apparently that someone was an army ant scouting party. He really shouldn¡¯t have been surprised when they got attacked while Divara was in one of her mumbling sessions. They¡¯ve nearly doubled their travel time with how often they were stopping, they were bound to get noticed eventually.


    He really shouldn¡¯t have been surprised, but it wasn¡¯t exactly easy to stay calm when three giant ants fell on you from above. Atlas was not pleased.


    The stallion bucked like a bull, crushing two of the ants underneath his raging hooves and throwing Harold off of his saddle. Thankfully Atlas didn¡¯t step on him, he had no interest in testing his armor against a warhorse, especially not against Atlas.


    The third ant was quickly dispatched by Harold¡¯s sword. Despite the embarrassment of being thrown off his mount like an amateur stable boy, it felt good to have something flowing down his blade, even if it wasn¡¯t exactly blood. These feelings were noticed and were promptly ignored.


    ¡°Well, you certainly weren¡¯t lying about having the finest mount in all the lands, his rider on the other hand seems to be a little too desperate to hug an ant, jumping down like that. Makes me wonder whether I should¡¯ve hired just the mount, he¡¯s definitely more civilised compared to his rider¡±


    His companion¡¯s words were also ignored, he had taken up a policy of neither feeding nor trying to put out the fire in the hopes that it¡¯ll burn out on its own.


    ¡°We seriously need to get a move on, you can have your samples after we get out of army ant territory¡±


    She thought for a moment before sighing, ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right. I have most of what I need anyway¡±


    Harold smirked, his heart bursting with satisfaction as he remounted Atlas, she was starting to actually listen to him! Soon enough he¡¯ll have her eating out of his palms (literally if his quest for learning to cook comes to fruition within the next few weeks).


    Divara seemed to have noticed his good mood, staring at him with one eyebrow raised before turning around and continuing down their path. They left the corpses unburned, there was no need to do so when their death pheromones would only pull the swarm in the same direction it was already moving towards, away from the frontier.


    ¡°So, why do these roads exist anyways? I¡¯m guessing the forest doesn¡¯t naturally create convenient infrastructure for humans to traverse through¡± he asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s made by ants¡± Divara replied. ¡°Leaf cutters more specifically, they used to be the uncontested rulers of Altena before the frontier was established. They were surrounded on all sides by humans, elves and army ants; the campaign against leaf cutters was hardly a fair fight, but it still took centuries to exterminate them. Even now the supercolony beyond the silver dragon¡¯s territory still stands, making leaf cutters still the largest force in Altena¡±


    ¡°Well I know that¡± his history education lightly glanced over the campaign against leaf cutters ¡°How do they do it? Altena with its quick growth should¡¯ve retaken these paths long ago¡±


    ¡°That, we still don¡¯t know. Some people like to act all high and mighty, lording their intelligence over the ant hordes, but there¡¯s much we still have to learn from them. Most of my teachers agree that ants naturally have a far better understanding of magic in comparison to humans¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡± Not the clear cut answer he was hoping for, he supposed that¡¯s why they were trying to study these creatures in the first place.


    Such small conversations filled most of their travels, they didn¡¯t really have much else to talk about, and Divara seemed to be enjoying them. Harold was as well, though he would never openly admit it, only a barrage of teasing awaited if he did so.


    The sun eventually set, the glow of the trees dying down along with it, another one of the mysteries of great Altena. They marched onward nevertheless, they had a lot of ground to cover. They were marching through an overgrowth tunnel, with only the faint glow of lanterns to light up their path their current surroundings could¡¯ve been mistaken for an underground cavern. The only thing dissuading such a notion was the warm breeze and the smell of nature.


    The forest was quite overgrown in general, but the wooden walls of an overgrowth tunnel was thick enough to prevent passage through it entirely. Pike formations were employed in these passageways to decimate leaf cutter minor and mediae work parties, at least until the majors showed up.


    Majors, the dreaded soldiers of leaf cutters, he¡¯s read through many terrified accounts of their strength and size. He was itching to find out whether he and Atlas can drive a lance through their armored bodies or not.


    He¡¯ll find out soon enough when they arrive at their destination.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The next day was mostly calm, ignoring one attack from a pack of grey wolves. It was actually a good sign to encounter predators other than army ants, it meant they¡¯ve likely left the reach of their scouting parties.


    The pack fled after one of their brethren was cut down and another one¡¯s skull was cracked open like an egg by hooves. Divara felt the need to remark on the fact that his horse still had a higher body count than he did. He responded by apologising to her for killing her brethren, noting her wolfish smirk and sharp canines.


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    The number of trees actually lessened as they went deeper into the forest, but their size increased exponentially. By the time they arrived at their destination the trees were tall enough to completely tower over even the great frontier walls.


    Massive trunks of wood stretched over one hundred meters into the air, spreading out into branches larger than entire trees from back home. Leaves cast great shadows down upon them, the sky having turned into a great expanse of green rather than blue.


    This was Riesegen Baum, the former center of the elven clans and now the base of operations of a fledgling leaf cutter ant nest.


    Even from down here he could see the trail, stretching out over branches and vines connected by bridges formed of ant bodies. Thousands of minor and mediae workers cut and carried leaves several meters in length, their foraging trail going out as far as the eye could see, into a colony that was likely an underground masterpiece of engineering larger than even the dwarven forts of the Otgon mountains.


    Breathtaking was the first word to come to his mind, he dismounted Atlas and took a moment to simply take in his surroundings. His serene moment didn¡¯t last very long as Divara suddenly pulled him aside, Atlas followed dutifully as always.


    He was about to question her actions before she pointed towards something in the distance, it was a major. He felt the word didn¡¯t quite do it justice, ¡®humongous¡¯ probably would''ve fit much better. Between a troll and a major, he couldn¡¯t tell which one was bigger, but he definitely knew which one was deadlier.


    The head of the major bulged with muscles, its mandibles glistening in the sun as they rapidly clicked together, the accounts of these things chewing through chainmail in seconds suddenly didn¡¯t feel so impossible anymore. But any threat its weapons created was secondary to a major¡¯s main feature.


    Their exoskeleton gleaned, shining like a plate of metal. The reason for its metallic appearance was simple, it was metal. Leaf cutters are one of the few species capable of advanced metallurgy, the exact specifics were vague but they used acids to purify ores dug out of the ground to plaster over their majors, forming a thin but formidable armor that¡¯s become one of the main reasons why leaf cutter colonies were so dangerous.


    Harold found himself not being scared in the slightest, he had experience with large armored creatures, a single gap was all he needed. Leaf cutter metallurgy was advanced, but their designs certainly weren''t. He could see gaps between the plates of metal made to allow movement, that¡¯s where he¡¯ll strike should he be forced to fight one.


    When he is forced to fight one, he doubted they¡¯ll be able to avoid conflict during their multi week stay, and leafcutters are renown for being territorial.


    Divara tugged on his arm before whispering into his ears, ¡°Look! A scouting party¡¯s broken off the main trail¡± she pointed at a Major leading three mediae heading north.


    ¡°Let¡¯s ambush them¡±


    Harold was flabbergasted ¡°What? Really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I want to study the plate on that major, nobody¡¯s gotten to see a fresh one still on the body for a long time, this is a big deal!¡± Divara said to him, showing off her iconic smirk.


    Every bit of his training on battlefield tactics told him that this was a terrible idea. They didn¡¯t have a camp to fallback to, they didn¡¯t know the surrounding area, hell they didn¡¯t even know if there was another foraging trail nearby in the direction the small group is headed towards.


    But he was itching for a fight, and Divara¡¯s smirk had an aura of invincibility, he nodded along despite the foolishness of such an action.


    The pair of them followed after the four ants, keeping them in sight while still maintaining enough distance to avoid being detected. After deeming that they¡¯ve made enough distance from the trail, Harold charged.


    Just like always, walk, trot, canter, gallop. A cloud of dust behind, a glistening lance upfront with the strength of a warhorse backing it up. He intended to kill the major in a single hit, the giant creature turned around just as Harold came within striking distance, too late to dodge now. He lowered his lance, aiming at a gap between the plates.


    The major did, in fact, not dodge. But Harold still failed to reach his desired decisive victory. The major slightly turned its head to the right, Harold¡¯s lance made connection but failed to pierce, instead sliding off of plate reinforced exoskeleton.


    ¡®Tsk¡¯ he failed, but he was the best jouster at the academy for a reason, his redirected lance found connection in a mediae while another was trampled under Atlas. Two left.


    He turned around after distancing himself to see the major charging him while the last mediae approached Divara.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me! Deal with the major¡± She yelled, he could already see energy gathering in her hands as she chanted in a language he didn¡¯t know. He was far more concerned about the major.


    He and Atlas charged once again, Harold was prepared for the major¡¯s tricks this time. His enemy also seemed to understand, as it met the charge head on this time. Harold¡¯s lance got caught in between the plates on its head the moment they made contact, reaching flesh but not piercing deep enough to kill.


    At this moment, Harold¡¯s strong grip worked against him, he flew off his mount while still holding his lance. The ant kept charging, thinking quickly on his feet Harold landed on his feet, legs locked and prepared to push back against the mountain of muscle that was a leafcutter major, however insane the idea of challenging it in a match of strength was.


    Expectedly, his push back meant little. His lance was the only thing keeping the two of them apart as Harold slid across the ground, plowing dirt as he went. He let out a blood curdling warcry, his muscles being pushed to their limits as his bones creaked under the charge of the major.


    But as he screamed, a primal unnatural well of strength flowed out from within him. The major slowed, losing steam as the opposition increased. Perhaps Harold would¡¯ve been able to stop the beast entirely, had it not been for him being slammed against a tree.


    The lance shattered upon the sudden impact, his back likely would¡¯ve done the same if he didn¡¯t have armor on. Harold drew his sword in a single instant, and an instant later the major had its mandibles locked around his body. He did his best to push it away with his sword, but was no match for the ant bearing down on him.


    It slowly sawed through his blade and armor, not even enchanted steel being able to hold up against the relentless assault of chitin for long. One, two, three, four¡­ a painfully long thirteen seconds later the attack ended as an orb of fire hit the major from behind.


    The ant turned around as it screeched in pain, it had just locked its eyes onto Divara when¡ª


    ¡®BANG¡¯


    A deafening sound rang out, Harold noted with a dazed mind that Divara appeared to be holding a tube of metal with smoke coming out its end. The leafcutter flailed around in pain as its mighty armor was pierced like paper, in its rage it completely forgot about Harold and charged its new foe.


    Divara was just turning around to flee when a storm of arrows flew from above, targeting the legs of the major with masterful precision. The charge that was being wound up screeched to a halt, all six of its legs were disabled.


    Harold stabbed his sword between the plates in its head, piercing to the brain and finally killing the raging beast, so that was the might of a leafcutter major.


    Harold looked down at his armor, it was already beginning to fill itself back in but it had nearly been pierced. He was seconds away from dying. His blade wasn¡¯t doing much better, it took on the brunt of the attack after all. It had already fixed itself thanks to its enchantment, but he could see the dullness of the part that was used to block.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Divara yelled as she rode over, worry clearly evident in her face.


    ¡°Never better, almost died is all. You have any other beasts that need dissecting? Maybe a gryphon or a dragon?¡±


    His employer sighed in relief, ¡°Idiot¡± is all she had to say.


    ¡°Well look who it is! If it isn¡¯t Sir Harold the ¡®brute¡¯¡± Harold turned around in shock to see a familiar face. At the head of a small group of elves was a mercenary crossbowman with an annoying smirk smeared across his rugged skin.


    ¡°Vannol?!¡±

 The Elven clan

    ¡°Vannol?!¡± Of all the things Harold had expected to see during this expedition, the old crossbowman was not among them, him being with elves even less so.


    ¡°Good to see you again Harold, I know I named you ¡®brute¡¯ but trying to wrestle a major is taking it a little too far don¡¯t you think?¡± He said with a signature look of smugness.


    ¡°But to see you again so soon, and in Altena of all places too, small world huh?¡±


    One of the elven rangers spoke up ¡°Mind introducing us?¡± Harold noted that the elves seemed quite friendly with the mercenary, not particularly common considering the recent state of affairs between humans and elves.


    ¡°This is Harold of Lyon, I worked with him a little over a week ago to do the supply run for Wolfhagen. He¡¯s inexperienced, but I can attest he¡¯s a capable fighter¡±


    ¡°And you are?...¡± Harold asked


    The elf didn¡¯t reply immediately, instead whispering something to Vannol. He couldn¡¯t hear them but he did see Vannol nod in response.


    ¡°We¡¯re forward scouts of Wolgast, the newly formed united elven clan. We were scouting Reisegen Baum for any chances of future reclamation. I¡¯m Finnor, the leader of this squad¡± He raised his hands for a handshake. Divara stepped up to shake it before Harold could, she was the leader after all.


    ¡°Divara, from the house of Valcairn. I¡¯ve been sent by the western institute of research to study the leaf cutter nest that has taken up root in Reisegen Baum, it seems we are bound for similar goals. Would you be gracious enough to share anything you have learned of the colony?¡±


    As the two of them spoke the rest of the scouts along with Vannol began to dig through the ant corpses.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Harold asked.


    Vannol replied ¡°Destroying the death sack. Unlike army ants, you don¡¯t actually have to burn the entire corpses of leafcutters to make sure it doesn¡¯t attract other ants, burning just the death sack is enough¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡± Vannol shrugged ¡°No idea¡±


    ¡°Teach me¡±


    ¡°Sure¡±


    As it turns out, the smell of a burning death sack isn¡¯t much better than a burning army ant. The elves also grimaced at the aroma, but seemed far more accustomed to it in comparison to him and Vannol. He actually pitied them for having become somewhat used to it at all, that¡¯s what centuries of fighting does to someone he supposed.


    Finnor and Divara finished speaking just as they burnt the last sack.


    ¡°We¡¯re staying with Finnor and his squad for a few days before they move camps¡± Divara said, she looked a little upset about the burning of the death sacks, but seemed to accept that it was necessary if they wished to avoid further confrontations with the leaf cutters.


    The major was dragged by the horses while the mediae was carried by the elves, Harold and Vannol. Harold grunted in exertion as he slung a mediae over his shoulders, the mediae was much larger than an army ant worker, heavy enough that everyone except Harold had to carry it in pairs.


    Divara came up beside him as they walked. ¡°Quite the company we¡¯ve found ourselves, it appears as though the clans aren¡¯t as shattered as the council would have us believe. With the way the Finnor spoke of this ¡®Wolgast¡¯ clan, I believe we¡¯re dealing with more than just a small resistance group¡±


    She sighed before ruffling her hair in frustration. ¡°I really didn¡¯t want to get involved in frontier politics, but it appears as though we don¡¯t really have a choice anymore. You¡¯re acquainted with the mercenary, yes? Try to get some information out of him¡±


    Harold could only nod in response, thanks to Divara¡¯s words the precarious nature of their current situation finally set in. Divara was both a member of a noble line and a representative from one of the most powerful institutions in the west.


    He on the other hand was from the house of Lyon, his father had enough military power to challenge all other eastern nobles by themselves. Even if he was currently on bad terms with his family, just the potential of having a Lyon on their side was enough to paint a massive mark on his back.


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    They had to tread carefully. Elves were obviously in a desperate situation, and he didn¡¯t doubt their willingness to go to extreme lengths to get what they wanted out of the two of them. He could only hope that Divara knew what to do.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Finnor had no idea about what he was supposed to do. It was just a routine scouting mission; they''d simply observe the leafcutter nest and return to Chief Sigvald to report its movements. It had swelled rapidly since the last mission which was concerning but not enough to force them to take action, the army ant swarm will crush the fledgling colony when it slowly comes through.


    It was just supposed to be a routine mission, yet here he was dealing with a pair of very influential people. He didn¡¯t know the specifics as a lowly squad leader, but having powerful supporters in the east and west may very well be enough to bring Joachim to justice.


    Any negotiations with potential allies were supposed to be handled by a general at the very least, he was promoted to squad leader just a few months ago! He was only thirty seven! How was he supposed to handle matters that could decide the future of his race!?!


    He performed breathing exercises taught to all rangers to calm his mind. He had to be temperate with his actions, he didn¡¯t know anything about the political or even the military situation at large, any decision he makes here will likely be deeply flawed or outright detrimental to the effort of Wolgast.


    So his objective should be to establish a more permanent line of communication and hand off the actual ¡®communication¡¯ part to his superiors, hopefully to people who are far more suited for the job than he is.


    Thankfully, he had Vannol. The crossbowman¡¯s loyalty was unquestionable at this point, Finnor¡¯s life had been saved by him too many times for it to not be, he could be trusted to serve as line of communication to the Lyon.


    More problematic was the Valcairn, she was headed back west in just a few weeks, they couldn¡¯t hope to reach her there. Any negotiations with her will have to happen before she crosses back through Arlon gate, meaning he¡¯ll have to set up a meeting with Divara before their expedition comes to an end.


    As he considered the situation a plan slowly formed in his head. He and his squad will head back to Wolfhagen to make their report and hopefully come back to Reisegen Baum with someone with the authority to negotiate.


    Vannol will be left behind to hopefully turn the Lyon to their side, or failing that at least keep him open to the idea of opposing Joachim and to set up future lines of communication. He could also try to delay their expedition, not sabotage of course, that was too risky. Perhaps sightseeing? Finnor could already think of a few places off the top of his head that could be worth seeing in Reisegen Baum.


    Finnor smirked as he continued to iron out his plan, this may just work.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Harold put out the last embers of the fire as he dwelled on the events of the day. He¡¯s been ignoring it as best as he can, but he could no longer deny the ugly feeling that¡¯s been born inside of him, a love for violence. The attack on the leafcutter party was a stupid idea, he knew it.


    Him and Divara, they didn¡¯t have a plan, an ounce of teamwork or even knowledge of what the other is capable of. Had Divara not been a surprisingly competent fighter, he¡¯d be dead, not even eaten because leafcutters aren¡¯t carnivores. Just left to rot in his armor in the middle of nowhere.


    He wanted to put the blame on his companion, he truly did, but who was the one with the military education? Who was the one employed for his expertise in battle? Had he put his foot down Divara probably would¡¯ve listened.


    But no, he instead charged in like a bull. No, worse than a bull actually, a bull charging head in would¡¯ve been playing to its strengths.


    More memories of similar incidents popped up. His beating of the thief at Alanfer, the incident at the academy, at the end of his fight against the troll, even his very first time hunting with father as a boy. A deep seated love for violence. Why was he like this? Why did he thirst for something that was supposed to be terrible?


    An ancestor from generations ago was remembered, along with insults from his peers about him being the descendent of the Red Duke. But it couldn¡¯t be, that was someone from two centuries prior, it just couldn¡¯t be¡ª


    A sarcastic voice disrupted his thoughts ¡°Are you trying to relight the fire with your glare? If so keep doing it, might just work¡±


    He turns around to the sight of a trademark wolfish smirk. Strangely, the moon decided to show itself beyond the trees for the first time that night, shining down upon Divara. Her eyes seemed to slightly glow, the yellow auburn orbs exuding an aura of confidence that seemed to pull him in and refuse to let go of his sight.


    Her dark hair with its hue of blue seemed so reminiscent of a great wolf, so noble in its grandeur, yet so alluring in its wild nature. Now no longer held up in a braid, it flowed down to her waist, a waist hidden by a nightgown that was quite conservative yet still fit snugly around her lithe form.


    Harold realized that he was staring, but he didn¡¯t care. For a single moment, nothing existed. Not his pride, not his nobility, not his savagery. For a single moment, the only thing to exist in his world was his beating heart and the canine goddess made manifest standing in his presence.


    ¡°Like what you see? Feel free to praise me, I know I¡¯m beautiful¡± He never thought he would hear the voice of an angel, nor did he know that they sounded so smug.


    He decided to parry rather than block. ¡°Yes, you have the beauty enough to dwarf a goddess. I think I might¡¯ve just fallen in love¡±


    A deep red flush and flabbergasted stuttering was the response he got. He was figuring out her buttons alright, if he can¡¯t win with insults he¡¯ll win with compliments. He¡¯ll be the victor of this war of wits yet.


    A shit eating smirk sent her way seemed to force Divara to gather her bearings before sitting down next to him. ¡°Jackass¡±


    ¡°What could you possibly mean?¡± She rolled her eyes in response.


    He decided to redirect the flow of the conversation before she could come up with something clever to say back. ¡°What was that thing you shot the major with?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called a handgonne, it uses mana crystals to fire metal balls at high speeds¡± she said.


    Harold was intrigued ¡°Seems powerful, where can I get one?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t, mana crystals can only be activated by the mage that made them. The traditionalists claim it''s proof that magic depends on the will and mindset of the person, and as such unique to each individual. I don¡¯t believe it for a second, I¡¯ll figure out a way to get this thing to trigger without my input somehow¡±


    One of the many things the woman next to him was trying to accomplish he supposed. So driven, so ambitious, so filled with dreams for the future. He supposed that was where true beauty was to be found, in the burning fire within one''s soul. He wondered if his own could one day burn as bright as hers.


    He doubted it, so lost, so directionless, so dependent on others for its spark. A Lyon, a person of great pride, that¡¯s what he was supposed to be, yet it felt as though the pride he felt was either trained into him, or made itself known only when he stood over a fallen corpse of a foe; there was no greatness to be found in such pride.


    His dark thoughts are banished as Divara launches into one of her tirades about the nature of magic, her bright soul dominating over whatever meager black mark that made him the way he is. He didn¡¯t want to see the ugliness of his own, so he¡¯ll let himself cling to hers instead, if only for a single evening.