Galoring
1 week after the defeat of Tyr Isendel
It had not even been a full fortnight since Bax had returned to the world of the living as a result of Danica’s magic. Just in time to help finish the fight against the baroness, ending her oppression. Aspects of the battle itself and new companions went over his head but Bax felt it was easier to greet and accept the new friends and facts of the onslaught at face value. He had missed so much in his time gone and that lost time left a hole in his gut he couldn’t place.
So only a day after the death of Tyr Isendel did Bax request to help with the aftermath of the battle. He searched for means of keeping himself occupied, his body moving; perhaps he could fill the void in his stomach with physical labor. So he helped with cleanup and repairs to the castle, assisted with stifling would-be riots, fought former guards of the baroness still loyal to her rule even in death. Even a full week later however, the pit remained and felt as though it had grown. When Bax saw his reflection, he recognized the body as his own but he struggled to actually see himself.
It was time for him to leave the city. He felt that whatever he was missing, whatever would make the void whole, would have to be found elsewhere. Before leaving, he went to visit the newly crowned baron. Though the man was busy, oftentimes surrounded by aides and guards, Bax was able to find a brief moment when he could speak with him privately. This new companion, Carter, seemed to keep the baron quite busy with the newly acquired throne and all of its responsibilities.
“Hey Rye, can I talk with ya quickly?” Bax asks, hoping to start and end the conversation before the baron could be dragged away to tackle more tasks.
Alistair Lin Isendel, once known simply as the bandit Rye, looked up from the variety of papers scattered across his broad desk and a light glinted in his eyes at the sight of an old friend, and one whom could give him a moment’s respite from the unending work that came with the hope of keeping the barony from devouring itself. The man looked somehow more tired now than when they were eating horses in the snow in the Fading Wood years before. but somehow still a smile remained on his lips.
“There is no man living too busy for a word with Bax Demir. Please, please, make yourself comfortable. These chairs are phenomenal. Try one for yourself. Take it with you when you go,” the Baron said, setting his quill into its ink and leaning back into his own high-backed chair, upholstered with plum leather and brass.
“I feel like it would only weigh me down if I took it…Also it’s too soft and probably wouldn’t be very good for even starting a fire,” Bax concludes, matter-of-factly. “But thanks though. I was actually hoping I could speak with you if you’ve got some time. I’ve decided I want to leave the city but wanted to ask for a favor.”
Though he had declined the offer to sit in the chair, Bax felt awkward standing within the lavish space - all the comfort and niceties made his skin itch. So rather than sit within the chair, Bax instead rested his chin against his arms on top of the tall chair back.
“I didn’t imagine you would want to stay in a place like this for long. It is rather loud and crowded isn’t it?” Alistair said, watching the younger man from across the expanse of his desk, a bit of amusement coloring his expression at the woodsman’s thoughts of burning the chair for firewood. “My attention is entirely yours, Bax. What’s on your mind?”
“Great! So back in Northgate, there are tribesmen who were taken from the mountains that are being held against their will to dig for artifacts of power. As the new baron, you can send an order to stop all the work and release the prisoners right?”
The touch of amusement faded from Alistair’s expression at the mention of the tribesmen who had been taken prisoner. He brushed the inside of his teeth with his tongue and nodded in understanding. “You spent some time in the North, I had heard— fought alongside some of those Tribesmen. The order for the remaining Painted Swan in the North to stand down has already been sent by messenger, but we don’t actually yet have reliable information about the loyalties of those commanders that remain in the North. It’s possible that they don’t even yet know about the death of my sister,” he said with a frown.
The baron canted his head, studying Bax for a moment more. “I could use your help with that very thing in fact. You are something of a hero of renown in the North from what I understand. I could use someone of your particular talents to travel North and ensure that what is happening there falls in line with the newer ideals of the family— that the prisoners are released and more rational minds are leading the Painted Swan in Jorung. Is that something you might be interested in?”
A look of confusion crosses Bax’s face at the mention of heroics. “I’m not really sure what you mean by that. All I’ve done is help some people that helped me in kind.
“But if my being in Northgate could allow the release of the tribesmen to their families and homes, I’ll go. As far as ‘rational minds’ go with the Painted Swans, you’ll need to send someone else. I’m not interested in getting caught up in more Swan nonsense.” Bax stands, turning and his eyes locking on a map of the barony hanging on the wall. He walks over to observe the various markings before another question occurs to him.
“Wait, why would you need my help? You have the throne now, so why wouldn’t the commanders just listen to you?”
Alistair was quiet for another lingering moment, before speaking again. “I think you might misunderstand the fragile situation we are in, my friend. Northgate had long been the farthest frontier of the barony. I often heard my father speak of the difficulty of maintaining influence over that distant city and the noble families that are seated there.
“My sister dispatched many thousands of soldiers into the North for what seems to have been the purpose of taking control of the Aasimar ruins located in Jorung. A side effect of that deployment is that there are still many thousands of soldiers in the North with experienced officers to whom they are loyal. It is difficult for me to predict where the loyalty of those officers will have fallen in light of our rebellion here in Galoring, Bax.
“It has only been days now since Tyr was deposed of the throne. The Painted Swans in Northgate will not yet even have knowledge of the outcome of our rebellion here, and when they do, it is likely that an ambitious commander with loyal men so far from the capital, and our tattered army, will think it wise and just to take power for themselves and resist us.
“It’s also not beyond reason that the noble houses of Northgate would take advantage of the leverage they may hold in negotiating to support a counter-rebellion or even a splintering of the loyalties of such men. They did not see with their own eyes what the people in the city saw, and simply being told of it may not be enough to win them.
“You understand my concern for the difficult situation that could create for us and the tribesmen of Jorung if such a thing were to happen? The soldiers that we have here in Galoring are wounded and weary from the battle for the Cathedral, and we’ve not the men to control the distant Northgate if those commanders resist us. There are already, here in the farmlands and the southern and western reaches of Isendel, nobles who will oppose my rulership of the barony.
“Baric Blackwood feels confident she can influence the nobility near Galoring, but the wild people of the North will need a hero, Bax Demir— someone to bring them together for their own interests. Those tribes could make a powerful ally in maintaining peace in the North and mitigating what could happen if thousands of trained soldiers turn mercenary or bandit.
“It will be a very fragile moment when the officers in the North learn of what has happened. We need to ensure they have every reason to decide that placing their loyalty with the throne is the wise decision— showing strength is the best way to accomplish that.
“Furthermore, Danica Thorne and your friend Sav have already spoken of the desire to travel North with a force and press toward that tower, whatever it may be, to understand its purpose. I’ve promised them two hundred soldiers to spare from the defense of Galoring and to otherwise maintain control of the farmlands here. They may not only need your help, but the strength the people of those lands might offer.
“I trained you to fight the Painted Swan because I understand the way these men think.
“It is truly in both our interest and those of the tribesmen, and I cannot imagine anyone more suited to the difficult and dangerous task that would lie before you if you agree— or anyone who would care more about the wellbeing of the peoples there.”
Bax could feel his heart beat hasten as he impatiently listened to Rye note all the reasons he was needed in Northgate. He tried to absorb each point but could only hear excuses.
“Holy shit, do you hear yourself? You’re the baron now! I figured that role would come with some kind of authority that the people serving in the military, under direct order of the baron, would have no choice but to follow but you make it sound like this whole system is as fragile as a straw house caught in a storm!”
Flashes of his own childhood shoot through his mind - the torture, the scars, the death he witnessed at too young an age. How many people has he killed in the hopes of a brighter future? Of a chance to just live without needing to be ever vigilant. “What exactly was the point of putting you on the throne if it means people still get to choose whether they listen to you or not? What’s the difference between your rule and your sister’s? What’s the point of the barony if the entire ecosystem is so damn weak!” Bax punctuates his feelings by cracking the wood of a bookshelf with his fist.
Taking a breath, Bax regains his composure, withdrawing his fist and stepping towards the middle of the room and continues. “I don’t want to play politics. If Northgate is so difficult to manage then let it go and just work with the leaders or something. I don’t care. The only thing I’m interested in is making sure the tribesmen are returned to where they belong. For that I’ll return to Northgate. But you’ll need to find someone else to represent you in this game of power - I only want to know who I need to speak with at the mines to make sure the tribesmen are freed.”
Alistair seemed to have little reaction to Bax’s outburst, even the breaking of the shelf, which sent a number of tomes tumbling to the ground around the young man’s feet. He merely watched him— wanting the world to be something other than it was something Alistair once ached for as well in a younger life.
“I’ll remind you I was in a prison cell simply waiting to be executed. You’re the one that made things complicated by breaking me out and putting me on a throne, Bax,” the man said with the slightest turn of his palms and a shrug of his shoulders.
“I understand what you want. I’ve already decreed that the prisoners taken by my sister’s men are to be set free, but I’ll need a man of substance to make sure those orders are obeyed. Let’s simply begin with that. Travel North and see to the safety of the prisoners. I suspect the next right action will make itself apparent to you as it always has, my friend.
“The messengers I sent North are under the command of a lieutenant named Tirald. I have no record of who might be in charge of the prisoners in Jorung. That is something you’ll have to investigate for yourself when you arrive. However, there is still the issue of authority. How will the soldiers that hold the prisoners know that you are to be trusted? Why would they listen to you or care what you have to say?”
Alistair leaned back into his chair and was quiet for another moment, before he rose with a complaint of the leather and wood and moved to a shadow-box fixed on one of the walls of the room, stepping over fallen books in order to reach it.
“It was in my great-grandfather’s time, I believe, that the eastern edges of Isendel were still being pushed toward the edges of the Fading Wood. Those lands were still wild then, even the hills and the riverlands. So far from Galoring, men of independent virtue were needed, not to serve as knights to protect the throne, but to see to the good of the common people at the far reaches of the barony.”
Alistair removed the glass of the display case and withdrew an old brooch, tarnished from age and weather, but still carrying the slightest gleam in the lantern light. “As it turns out, I have heard a rumor about such a man living in our time. The Woodsmen, I believe they call him.
“There are consequences to making me a baron, Bax—and here is the first of them,” the man said, before stepping to the younger man without pause. He pinned the brooch, which looked something like a sword crossed over a leaf that bore the seal of the Isendel Family, onto Bax’s shoulder at the thick part of his cloak.
“I, Baron Alistair-Lin Isendel, hereby name you Ranger Warden of the Northern Wilds, Bax Demir, and I charge you with the good and just protection of the peoples of those lands by whatever your means,” he said, giving a small adjustment to the way the brooch was sitting on Bax’s cloak, before giving him a knock on the shoulder with the heel of his fist.
“Do try not to lose it, eh? I don’t have any more of those.”
Bax was stunned silent, unable to formulate a rebuttal to the Baron’s decree. This isn’t what he wanted, what he’d asked for. He never wanted a position of authority, never wanted the responsibility of freeing people from wrongful imprisonment. He never wanted to be a warrior. The pit in his stomach swelled as his uncertainty grew and his confidence faltered.
What do I want…
As Bax reached up to the brooch to rip it from his shoulder he stopped short, gathering his thoughts and letting his hand fall back to his side. “I wasn’t around when the decision was made to put you on the throne. But I would’ve been against it. Seems too harsh a punishment if you ask me,” he remarks with a weak smirk.
“I’ll take your damn brooch,” he continues with a sigh, “and I’ll figure out how to help the prisoners. Once I’m done though, you can have it back. I told you - I don’t want anything to do with the barony and I meant it. After this task, this city and the barony can burn for all I care.”
Turning to retreat back into the hallway, Bax pauses before the door. “I’ll hop onto a ship first thing in the morning - if there are any documents or whatever I’ll need to show Tirald you should have them ready before then. And um, thanks.”
Rye cocked an eyebrow and Bax could read the gentle confused look in his eye. “When we were kids I mean; back in Aelorean’s Crossing,” he clarifies, rubbing the scar on his neck from when he was hanged. “I never liked you or the way you treated us. But you helped us to survive, trained us to fight - you saved us. I don’t think I realized until I was older but regardless of my feelings towards you as a person, you’re still owed gratitude. So thanks.” Bax straightened up and left to gather his possessions for his return trip to Northgate.
Bax spent an excruciating two months aboard the river bound vessel alternating between training and vomiting. He had to train his body as though it were wholly new to him after it had undergone whatever changes occurred while it had belonged to Sylas. He was still unsure of the details, and in fact no one seemed to know any better than he did, but he had grown taller. This change drastically affected both his visual perspective and sense of balance and he now had to learn to compensate for the additional height and develop his new center of gravity. When he wasn’t forcing himself to train through motion sickness, he was in his cabin vomiting into a bucket or spitting sick overboard.
It was the moments of rest however, between training and fighting motion sickness, that Bax found himself struggling with most though. In the times he found himself with only his thoughts, he could seemingly only feel the void in his stomach growing ever so slowly. He would recall his conversation with Rye and the brief mention of Danica and Ethan leaving for the Tower to the north. Bax had requested a note be left for his friends that he left Galoring but it didn’t strike him until a day after he left what he had missed in that passing comment. Before he gave himself in trade for Roux with the Raven Queen, Bax knew that he would have followed both Danica and Ethan to the ends of the world. Or stayed to help any of his other friends for that matter. But he didn’t. In a moment of blind frustration, he made a choice without so much as a second thought.
The guilt of leaving everyone behind ate at him but in his core, Bax understood he had to leave on his own. Whatever he was missing, whatever was pulling at him, he had to find it for himself. He felt selfish for this decision but it was too late to turn around. He would need to continue looking forward to figure out what he needed before he could see his family again.
After an arduous adventure across the water, Bax had finally arrived in Northgate, spitting up sick one last time as he departed the cursed ship. He adjusts his hood and eyepatch as he reorients himself to the familiar surroundings and trudges through the streets. He was instructed to find Tirald within a Swan base located near the town square and despite his best efforts, Bax was struggling to remember how to navigate the city. It was coming to him gradually, as was the sickening sensation of walking these streets once again. His uncovered eye cuts in every direction as he notes alleys and other potential escape routes. He also counts out each Painted Swan patrol and guard, considering battle scenarios and tactics as he unconsciously tightens his fists and breathes to slow his quickening heartbeat. Old habits didn’t seem to break so easily for him.
The further he travels through the streets, the more Bax notices changes the city has undergone. The restaurant that hosted the garbage that he and Talith sat in for reconnaissance had closed down it seemed. A friend disappeared and promises lost to the wind.
The alley where he would meet the orphaned children, Dell, Pen, and Simmy, for information to locate his friends had been absorbed into expanding infrastructure. Who knows where they are now or if they lived. More promises forgotten; responsibilities shirked. The pit sitting in his stomach felt stronger, more all consuming, as waves of guilt and anger washed over Bax. He gripped at his stomach, distracted by the heavy emotions before bumping into a pedestrian.
“Oi, watch you’re stepping,” yelled a belligerent dwarf up at Bax. The stranger stumbled slightly and stood as though ready to begin a scuffle.
“Ah sorry, sorry, I’m sorry! Lost myself in thought,” Bax chuckled slightly. As he glances back up to take in the surroundings, he notices that he had actually made it to the town square. It bustled with the busy energy of a city not too unfamiliar from Galoring - though smaller in scale it was still a crowded affair that Bax found disconcerting. “I’m uh, I’m actually looking for the Swan base if you could help me? I was told it was around here and I need to speak with the lieutenant in charge…”
The dwarf took a wild swing towards Bax and he swiftly side-stepped the wide attack as the man stumbled face first into the cobblestone road. Bax winced at what looked like a painful fall, leaning down to find that the man had fallen unconscious and now featuring a broken nose from the impact. He dragged the small frame towards the front of an alley and, covering both of their figures with his cloak as best as he could, leaned in closer to the man’s injury. He hovered his hand over the nose, focusing, and a gentle, golden-aura glowed from Bax’s palm as the tattoo on his right arm lit up in conjunction. After a moment, the injury had set itself back to normal as though it never happened in the first place. “Again, sorry for bumping into you. That should help though, so that the only pain you have is from your hangover.” Bax stood and began moving around through the crowd to find the Swan station.
After what felt like hours, Bax was able to finally navigate the horrible city streets and located the post that hosted Tirald. Even though he thought he had prepared himself, Bax’s heart still sank slightly as he looked up at the looming building and counted out the immediately patrolling guards. His instincts were yelling at him to run, hide, prepare to counter attack; he kept his feet firmly planted however.
In for a copper…
He took a steadied step, followed by another, and continued to force his body forward. The posted guards noted his approach but did not move to stop him. As Bax closed the distance to the front of the building, he entered the building and found a bustling center of Swans moving in and out. He heard a whistle and snapping, pulling his attention towards a younger human who was calling him over. “C’mon, over here. What’s your business?”
“Ah, um…” Bax mumbled as he delved into his pouch, pulling out a stained and folded envelope. “I have a letter for Tirald?”
The receptionist took the crumpled letter, finding the wax seal of the barony on the back. “The hell did you do to this thing? It carries the seal of the barony - why’s it look like it was fished out of the water?”
“Oh well it fell out of my bag at some point and I had to fish it out of the river!” Bax states matter of factly.
The receptionist gives Bax a look of confused disgust, turning back to the letter. “Lieutenant Tirald you said? Wait here please.” He stands quickly and leaves, pushing through a door towards the back of the building. After several minutes of listening to his heartbeat pulse in his ears, the young receptionist steps out and is followed by a dwarf man. This new figure points directly at Bax and motions for him to follow into the office.
Within the relatively empty office, Bax sat at a desk too small for how many stacks of parchment it found itself supporting across from lieutenant Tirald. The room had clearly been set up to accommodate someone who could pack up a moment’s notice for a new assignment. Tirald sat in silence after having beckoned Bax, as he went back and forth between reading the letter written by the baron and studying Bax. The lieutenant was a handsome dwarf man who appeared young, though the long streaks of gray throughout his hair betrayed someone who has worked very hard for a very long time. While he was not donned in the standard Swan armor, he wore an outfit of the regalia that was well pressed and fitted perfectly to the straight-backed figure.
Despite himself, Bax couldn’t help but feel as though he were a child again, back in Aelorean’s Crossing, being reprimanded for poor behavior. Finally, after what must have been several candles of waiting, the lieutenant looks up one last time, his eyes quickly glancing to the brooch on Bax’s shoulder, “So. Ranger Warden.”
Bax held his tongue, waiting for the Swan to continue. When nothing further came up he followed up the prompt with, “Uh yea-yes. That’s me I guess…”
“Is it?” Tirald raps his knuckles on the desk before pushing the letter towards Bax. “See, I’ve read this letter over several times now and I can’t decide if bringing out that old title is either brilliantly strategic or a maneuver of desperation. Much less assigning it to a ‘witch’. So why did he choose you?”
With a shrug, Bax replies, “I’unno. I imagine he thought it was clever; don’t really care though, I just want to help the prisoners.”
“That won’t do,” Tirald snaps. “I need someone who knows why they’re here if I’m to work with them. So why you?”
“I don’t know,” Bax snaps back. “As soon as I’m done here you can take the damn brooch back for someone else to brandish. I’m here to help you in the release of the tribesmen, what does it matter why I’m a warden?”
Tirald sighs heavily, leaning back into his chair pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine, an alternate approach,” he says to himself before turning back to Bax. “I get the sense that you’re a man of action. I can appreciate that - Harvest help me, I could probably use more men like that. But you don’t comprehend the value in words do you?” He opens a drawer, pulling out a pipe and box of matches, lighting it as he pauses to smoke between breaths. “Tell me - what is your value?”
“Value?” Bax repeats, flummoxed. “I mean, I’m strong and I hit things, what else do you want?”
“And those are admirable traits!” Tirald points excitedly towards Bax. “But aside from those, what is your value to me? To the Painted Swans? Is your value as a powerful civilian that we can conscript into our ranks? I doubt very much you’d submit to Swan military - not worth the effort. A witch perhaps? I don’t imagine you much like that particular label. Probably want to avoid using it as much as possible. So you possess strength and that’s where your qualities of interest end I’m afraid. Aside of course,” as he motions to the brooch with the pipe, “from your title so honorably bestowed by our new baron.”
Bax tightened his fists and he could feel his patience waning. “Sir, please get to your point. Do you want my help or not?”
“Have you not been listening lad? I don’t want your help - I want the Ranger Warden by my side for this!”
“What are you talking about!” Bax shouts, standing quickly and throwing his seat to the ground. “You want my help but only if I wear the stupid brooch? Well here it is! Right here! If you don’t like it then give it to someone else!” The brooch is slammed into the desk, shaking some loose papers onto the floor.
“Lad,” Tirald says, without changing his inflection, “do you know what that small thing represents? Trust. Baron Alistair saw something in you that he valued in high enough regard to grant you a title that hasn’t been seen in at least a century. A title that represents protection where the barony has failed.” Tirald leans forward, his elbows pressed against the desk. “It’s a title for serving the barony, yes, but a barony is not its ruling class or its military or even its infrastructure. It’s the people. A ranger warden doesn’t serve as a rank and file soldier, doesn’t take orders from generals or commanders. Their purpose is greater - and at a time when the power dynamics of the barony are fluctuating, you have a chance to stand as a symbol of what the barony should be. That is what the brooch represents and why it’s important. So I ask again: Ranger Warden?”
Bax paused, absorbing the lieutenant’s words. When first speaking with Rye, he was so agitated he couldn’t properly take in what he was being told. That same agitation was sitting just on the fringes of Bax’s mind but he pushed through to ask, “Why do you care? I can understand the Baron’s motivations, I think. But I don’t know you; you’re a Swan and all my experiences tell me that you’d stab me in the back the moment I turned around. I get that you’re under an order from the baron to free the prisoner’s but you seem more concerned than the average soldier. Why not do something about it before now?”
“What and get myself hanged for disregarding the chain of command and direct orders? No, I’ve had to take my time and be patient for an opportunity like this to present itself. And I care because they’re my kin,” Tirald announces tiredly. “Maybe not by blood but they’re my people nonetheless. But the baron, through you, represents a juncture I’ve been waiting for. A crossroads that could, with work, provide an opportunity for something more for those people. Something better for all of Isendel.”
Bax chewed on what Tirald said. The Swan seemed genuine but Bax couldn’t bring himself to fully believe him. When had he become so wary of everyone? “Why do you serve the baron? What power does he have over you?”
Tirald looks quizzically at the question, puffing on his pipe. “Power over me? Heh, I think you may overestimate my value. It’s not as though I serve power for power’s sake - if that were the case I imagine I’d be much more furious over the late baroness. To make a long story short, I grew up here in Northgate, witnessed how the tribes folk were treated; disregarded, taken advantage of, killed… Always wondered what separated me from them. Thought I could manage relations or at least reduce hostility between the barony and tribes if I worked my way up the ranks. I suppose I serve the barony because it’s all I know and alternative options would result in the casualties of innocents. Or perhaps I never had the same nerve to rebel as you witches did.”
Pondering for a moment, Bax tentatively picked the brooch back up from the desk. “You’ll have my spear for now. I won’t make any guarantees about what happens after.”
“Ah, so that would make you…?” Tirald asks with anticipation.
A heavy sigh escapes from Bax’s throat before he replies, “Yes, fine, I’m the Ranger Warden of the something something.”
“Could use a lil more work but I’m sure you’ll get it sorted. Good lad,” Tirald announces, fetching a coin purse from a drawer as he walks around to shake Bax’s hand. “I look forward to working with ya. I understand that you don’t much care for the city. I can offer you a space to rest for the night but I expect you’ll make yourself just as comfortable up in a tree if I understand correctly. Take this pouch at least and get yourself something to eat - there are some excellent stalls around the corner. Regardless of what you plan to do, be here by dawn tomorrow and we’ll begin going over the details of release for the tribesmen and leave the city.”
Bax is ushered out back onto the city streets. Hesitantly, he looks through the small purse, checking for any miniscule traps. Once he determines it’s safe, he stows it away and lets his nose guide him to the best smelling option immediately available.
The following morning, Bax returned to speak with Tirald. In their meeting, Tirald confirmed with Bax that a new commanding officer had been placed in charge of the mines, Captain Lhos, after the Wolf had been slain. It was meant to be a temporary reassignment until a new commander could be named to maintain the mines, however, in the past turn, the productivity of the mines had nearly doubled. Tirald viewed this as cause for concern considering the treatment of the tribesmen he had witnessed in previous visits - such a sudden spike in their work output would more likely be a result of dangerous practices. With Bax’s title, and documents from the baron Alistair, Tirald felt confident that they would be able to begin the slow process of shutting down the mines, if not readying the tribesmen for release in the near future.
Bax was set to escort Tirald and two other Swan soldiers to the primary mine that hosted Captain Lhos, six days’ travel by cart, to begin negotiations. “Is there anything that I’ll need to do? I get that you feel confident about your plan and your papers but you haven’t really given me a task…” Bax remarks as he hoists bags into their carriage.
“You will back me up. Answer any questions the captain has to the best of your ability - limiting any mention of your witchery to a minimum - and help to keep the negotiations on track. There’ll be plenty of time to prepare,” Tirald responds after puffing on his pipe. “It will be tense, especially if what I’ve heard about Lhos is accurate; he’s known as being brutal and tactically quick-witted and he’s often suspicious of everyone. He’ll understand though, once we provide our letters from the baron, that his options are limited. He won’t start a fight once all the facts and orders have been laid out in front of him.”
“What if he does though?” Bax halts, shouldering a large chest as he looks towards the lieutenant.
“Fight you mean?” Tirald clarifies, scoffing at the idea. “As I said, his options will be limited and I’m a very confident negotiator. He will relent.” Pausing for a moment, Tirald steps towards Bax and continues, “And if he does fight, well I’m just as confident in your help to settle the situation if needed. Now finish loading up, I’d like to get there before sundown!”
Not fully convinced, Bax continues loading the carriage, carefully pulling at this eyepatch as he mumbles to himself, “This just feels like a trap…”
Arriving with only one turn remaining before the sun fully sets beyond the mountain range, Bax finally witnesses the scope and severity of the mines. A vast, wide field of gravel and mine carts lay before them, criss crossing across a mostly clean and maintained road pass for arriving and departing carriages. Beyond the immediate field of mine tracks are the mountains that are being mined - parties of five or six tribesmen, chained together in pairs, moving as ants in and out of the tunnels. Some groups appear to be leaving the mines for the evening and new batches of fresher bodies are moving in to replace them; each of these groups is monitored by one or two Swan soldiers each who shout or beat the tribesmen that lose their balance, return with a smaller load than instructed, or to prod a reaction out of them. All the tribesmen have sallow cheeks and darkened eyes, each of them malnourished and weaker than they rightfully should be.
Bax grimaces, clenching his fists and forcing himself to remain seated within the carriage, and forces his eyes forward. At the end of the road is a series of wooden structures and buildings, including a three-story building that would serve as the main hub and barracks for the Swans. “That’s where we’ll find the captain right?” he asks through gritted teeth, fighting an urge to vomit as the void in his stomach swirls at the sight of the mines.
“It is,” Tirald notes. “We’re arriving a touch later than I’d have liked but we should catch Lhos before he relieves himself for the day.”
“This ends tonight Tirald,” Bax notes. “Either these mines close tonight or I die.”
“Lad,” Tirald responds cautiously. “We discussed this. For a peaceful transition, it will take time to close the mines but they will be closed. Remember, we need Captain Lhos to accept the orders from Baron Alistair and assign me as ranking officer to maintain the transition of closing the mines. You have my back on this, yes?”
A grunt is the only acknowledgment Bax musters as his eyes drift back towards the working tribesmen.
In an office located on the third floor of the Swan barracks, Bax and Tirald wait for Captain Lhos to enter so they can begin their meeting. Bax is feeling especially anxious as both of them were instructed to check their weapons at the entrance yet Tirald seemed as though he couldn’t be more calm. He hummed a tune as he made himself comfortable, fixing a glass of liquor and finding a comfy chair across from the singular large desk in the space. The office itself was quite large and featured numerous hunting trophies and framed medals and weapons. At the back of the office, directly across from the entrance and situated behind the desk was a large warhammer, mounted to the wall. Bax made note of all the potential weapons and exits within the room as he paced back and forth, checking that his eyepatch was properly affixed in his reflection of the window. He peered past his reflection to the working tribesmen beyond - by now the sun mostly vanished, with highlights of pinks and oranges peeking over the mountain range as the prisoners continued their work mostly by torchlight. His attention is pulled to the entrance of the room as he hears the click of the doorknob twisting and watches the captain enter through the window reflection before turning to face the new arrival.
Captain Lhos appeared to be human but you would be forgiven for thinking he came from a giant’s bloodline. He stood at seven feet tall, towering over Bax even with his newly acquired height, and was nearly as wide as the doorway he entered in from. The man must have been in his fifties but looked as though he could pull a fully loaded carriage without issue. Moreso, the terrible scars that marked his face and arms reminded Bax of a saying he had heard once or twice in his life - Be wary of an old man in a profession where men die young…
Bax had to stop himself from gawking at the demi-giant as he entered and greeted Tirald. “Lieutenant, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?” he asked in a voice that was deep and crackling. Lhos moved around the desk and situated himself beneath the massive warhammer into a seat that sounded as though it could barely maintain itself under the immense pressure of the captain’s size. Two more Swan soldiers of normal size follow behind the captain, taking post on either side of the door as they close it.
“I hope you’ll forgive my dropping by unannounced but I had an urgent message to bring to your attention. Ah! Where are my manners,” Tirald, flustered, stands and waves Bax to his side. “Partly to do with this young man here. Allow me to introduce Bax Demir, Ranger Warden of the Northern Wilds.”
Bax stands awkwardly next to Tirald and meets the gaze of Lhos. The giant man was studying him, looking up and down with a cocked eyebrow. Bax holds the pensive eye contact before introducing himself with a curt, “Pleasure, sir.”
Lhos taps a large index finger on the desk twice before responding, “Indeed. So, Tirald, what is the matter that needs to be so urgently discussed that it cannot wait till the morning?”
Tirald pulls out several sealed envelopes and slides them across the desk towards the captain. As he begins to open and inspect them, Tirald says, “As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, her Highness, Baroness Tyr Isendel, was recently dethroned. Her long, lost brother, Alistair Lin Isendel, has ascended and taken the weighty responsibility himself to become the new baron of Isendel. As part of the transition, he has instructed that mines be shut down as soon as possible and elected to have me take charge of that particular assignment.”
Almost absentmindedly, Lhos looks over the new documents but his eyes continue to cut back towards Bax and his index finger loudly taps two more times. “Ah yes, a true shame…I believe I have that initial report here somewhere…” Lhos mumbles to himself, seeming to only be half listening to Tirald as he opens a drawer, rummaging and pulling out an old file. His eyes cut back to Bax once more and his giant index finger tapped once more on the desk.
Where Bax was anticipated hearing a second loud tap, he is tackled to the floor of the office as the two Swans that were standing guard shackle his wrists behind his back. “Hey!” Bax shouts as he begins to struggle against the chains and is pulled up to his knees.
“Lhos what is the meaning of this!” Tirald shouts, slamming his hands against the desk. He is pushed aside, a large hand thrusts him away, as Captain Lhos steps forward to kneel by Bax. He holds up the document he had pulled from his desk to show a well kept, albeit old, wanted poster for a witch, depicting Bax.
“I’ve wondered when I would expect to come across one of ya,” he says, grasping Bax’s cheeks in his massive fingers. “Been wondering if my methods would ever actually reach your ears - if you even cared!” He stands, releasing his grip from Bax’s face, returning to his seat behind the desk. “Excellent work Lieutenant; it seems with your help we’ve been able to apprehend one of these elusive witches I’ve heard so much about. We can hold an execution tomorrow morning in front of all the tribesmen.”
Bax could feel panic beginning to set in as his eyes turned to the dwarf. “Tirald…” he grunts through gritted teeth. The lieutenant looks back to him with a confused and surprised expression.
Stepping forward, Tirald calls out, “Captain, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here. This young man is a ranger warden; he’s here to help oversee the peaceful transition - “
“Nonsense,” Lhos cuts off. “This is clearly a witch who has falsified documents to earn your trust so that he could assassinate and take control of the mines for himself. Fortunately, our cunning allowed us to get the jump on him before his ploy could be completed.”
“Lhos, he couldn’t have forged any documents, I don’t think he can even read! You need to have your men release him so that we can have a civil discussion!” Tirald retorts as his frustration grows.
Captain Lhos goes silent for a moment before he looks to one of the Swan guardsmen, flicking his head towards the lieutenant. The guardsman lets go of Bax, drawing a shortsword and marches towards the dwarf. “Lieutenant Tirald, it seems that you have been compromised and had your mind altered by the witch’s evil magic - you will either stand down now or be slain on the spot!”
Tirald is kicked in the chest, falling onto his back as the guardsman holds the sword to his chest. “By the Harvest Lhos would you listen! Allow me to explain what -” He is cut off again as the Swan steps and holds his boot against Tirald’s neck.
“Orders sir?”
“Kill him,” Lhos orders nonchalantly. “We have a witch to imprison for an early morning execution.”
“No!” Bax shouts. As his desperation grows, a faint golden light glows from under the sleeve of his right arm. His muscles suddenly tense and expand as his clothes tighten around him. With the surge of increased strength, Bax yells as he struggles against the chains binding his wrists. He wrenches and pulls as the chain links finally explode - jumping immediately to his feet, he swings his arm wide to the side, striking the first guardsman in the temple with his wrist cuff. As the guardsman falls, the other standing over Tirald turns as Bax sprints and leaps to tackle him to the ground. Grabbing by the back of his head, Bax slams the Swan’s face into the wood floor, cracking it upon impact.
Scrambling, Bax moves to help Tirald stand, “Hey, you alright?”
“I’ve been better lad. I uh, didn’t expect that kind of ferocity from you though, if I’m being honest,” Tirald laughs nervously.
Bax smiles but it fades immediately as he hears a high pitched ringing, as though something is charging. In his frantic maneuver, he had forgotten about the captain for a moment. Without looking to see what was coming, Bax shoved the lieutenant away from him with all his might just as a concussive blast forced him through the wall of the building, sending him tumbling from three stories up. He lands with an impact that knocks all the air from his lungs as he skids and bounces across gravel.
Coughing, a loud ringing in his ears, Bax staggers to his feet. His vision is blurred from the crash and as he tries to focus, he can barely make out obscure outlines of prisoners and Swan guards, approaching to inspect the situation. Shaking his head, the ringing subsides just as he hears Lhos shout down, “It seems we have a witch in our midst! Protocol states we should execute witches upon site; in lieu of hanging, I will slay this monster myself!”
Lhos, wielding the warhammer from his office, leaps from the building as another loud concussive wave resounds. As Bax’s vision finally clears, standing within a small crater, he sees Lhos standing, unaffected by his jump. Glancing to the mountain range, he notes that the sun had still not fully set, and takes a defensive stance, drawing a single dagger he kept hidden from the check-in with his other weapons.
“So tell me witch, what finally garnered your attention? Why show up now?” Lhos inquires, hefting the large hammer across his shoulder as he walks towards Bax.
Just a little longer…
Furrowing his eyebrows in confusion, Bax steps backwards to try and keep his distance from the captain and responds, “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t play coy now little witch,” Lhos shouts gleefully. “These tribesmen are prone to tell stories. Especially in a vain attempt to keep morale up. I’ve heard of a warrior within the mountains that was accepted as one of their own. A warrior who fought on behalf of the mountain folk and asked for nothing in return; word spread across the disparate tribes of the Woodsman.
“This Woodsman has fought monsters, slain Swan soldiers, and purportedly uses magic of some kind. You put the pieces together and it’s clear that a witch is at the heart of this tale.” Without warning, Lhos dashes forward, swinging the warhammer down as Bax narrowly dodges to the left. As the hammer cracks into the ground, Lhos lets one hand go, swinging his body around to catch Bax in the cheek with his elbow. The blow staggers Bax as he rolls backwards to avoid an overhead strike of the warhammer. Quickly sliding back in, Bax slashes with his dagger and barely knicks the captain’s legs before he scurries away, putting more distance between the two of them.
Bax rubs his cheek as it throbs with pain, spitting blood to the ground. “I don’t…” he pauses, confused at the story. He throws his hand to the side, as though attempting to catch something, but nothing happens.
Shit! Need to keep him talking!
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Bax continues.
Lhos contorts his face from confusion to anger as he shouts, “You’re still playing dumb? I know it’s you after personally capturing the Skejagrr chieftain; I tortured him for days before finally killing him with his own weapon!” The massive warhammer is slammed headfirst into the ground, as a series of dwarven runes begin to glow white-blue from the hilt into the head.
“To his credit, Vakser remained steadfast till the very end. His second in command wasted no time in describing you to the best of their ability after -” Lhos is stopped mid-sentence as Bax sprints to deliver a haymaker punch, catching him on the chin.
“His name was Veskrr!” Bax roars. He moves to stab the dagger into the captain’s abdomen but he spins quickly to avoid the strike.
In retaliation, Lhos kicks Bax in the chest, knocking him backwards. He loses his balance and falls backwards but rolls back onto his feet. Just as Bax regains his composure, Lhos moves directly in front of him - he swings the warhammer upwards, catching Bax in the stomach. Just as his feet leave the ground, the runes of the warhammer grow brighter as a familiar high-pitched ringing charges. A concussive blast from the hammer launches Bax high into the air, twirling in the wind as he falls hard back to the ground. He grits his teeth tight, hissing in pain, as he clambers back to his feet, holding his stomach from the impact.
“Why are you doing this!” Bax shouts. “Why harm and torture these people? The baroness is dead, you can’t gain anything more from these mines!” Gripping his dagger more tightly, Bax takes his defensive stance once again, trying to refocus his anger and control himself. The two warriors had begun to draw a larger crowd as both imprisoned tribesmen and Swan soldiers began to slow or drop their work as they gathered to watch this spectacle unfold.
“You!” Lhos retorts excitedly. “It’s you I’m after! I wasn’t simply assigned this post, I asked for it, all so that I could find and slay you witches myself! I don’t care what’s in the mines - the purpose of the mines was to torture these neanderthals and draw you out!” He sprints at Bax holding the warhammer behind him as it activates and launches Lhos at high speed. The unexpected boost surprises Bax as he throws his arms up to guard the heavy impact of the hammer that swings into his ribs. The hit sends him skidding to the side as Lhos rolls to his knees, standing slowly with a satisfied grin.
“I mentored a soldier years ago - a private named Kelwin,” Lhos continues. “He exceeded all expectations at every turn, earned promotions at an incredible pace, became stronger with every bout. I was proud to say I led the way for him - until he stabbed me in the back, pushing me aside to further his own ambitions. I hated him for what he did to me and my reputation.” Lhos looks to Bax with contempt as he recalls the story.
“I kept an ear out for all reports or rumors related to him, recovered buried files and learned he had discovered witches ten years ago. And when a new report came in three months ago of him having been killed, I could only surmise it to be the work of witches. Between the timing of his death and the stories coming out of Northgate, I knew that if I positioned myself here, I would run into one of you sooner or later! And now,” Lhos exclaims, repositioning himself to charge again, “with you here, I will claim your head! Prove to be the superior fighter, rally all of the Swans in Northgate with me, and claim the throne of Galoring - returning the barony to one that has the strength of will to know better than to cozy up with magical monsters! You, and all your kin, will be stomped out before you can hurt our lands any further!”
Bax watches Lhos prepare for another assault, recounting his tale, and his face shifts from anger and pain to one of confusion. “…you did all of this out of spite?”
Asking the question aloud, the void in his stomach drops, as the realization sets in. “Spite?” Bax yells, as wisps of mist the color of the night sky begins to escape from behind his eye patch.
Lhos roars and charges once again and Bax sprints to meet him halfway. As Lhos swings the hammer down, Bax dives, driving his elbow into the abdomen of Lhos, as the hammer narrowly misses him; he quickly turns, flipping the dagger and stabbing it into Lhos’s forearm. Lhos cries in pain, pulling the hammer back as the runes alight and another concussive blast drives Bax away.
Tumbling across the gravel, Bax forces himself to a halt and quickly stands. “You’re trying to kill me, you’re torturing these people, because you resent your student for being better than you?”
“Don’t you try to minimize my reasons boy,” Lhos retorts, removing the dagger from his arm, his face flush with anger. “I don’t owe an explanation to a monster!”
Throughout the interaction, the void in Bax’s stomach has continued to slowly expand, threatening to swallow him as always, and then pauses. For the first time a feeling of warmth overpowers the cold darkness of the uncertainty. A fire that Bax had not realized he was missing sparks to life.
“That’s fine actually,” he replies through gritted teeth, grabbing at his gut and calming himself. “You helped me figure something out.” Lhos looks at the young witch with a look of disgust and confusion.
“I don’t actually care why you seek power. Only that you’ve hurt all these people,” Bax expresses. More tendrils of purple, black, and blue begin to steam from behind his eye patch, disappearing up towards the starlit night. He holds his right hand out to the side, focusing, as all remaining sunlight fades away. A cracking sound breaks the momentary silence between them as Bax closes his grip around the air, pulling at nothing, and the Glasswood Spear appears from empty space in his hand, as though releasing it from a glass case. Bax then flourishes the beautiful weapon, measuring the weight and twirling it around himself.
“You freak,” Lhos yells. “A monster who only wants for my blood and land! Once you’re gone, I will strike down all these other miserable wretches myself before me and my men take the capital for ourselves once more!”
Bax stands solemn, turning his head up to the stars and sighs. “I tried to deny it for so long. But yeah, I think you’re right,” he says, turning his gaze back to Lhos. With his free hand, he tugs at his eye patch, breaking the straps and throws the leather piece to the ground. Revealing his right eye, the constellation of the Hunter shines bright in his personal pocket of the night sky. The cosmic mist that was being held back then begins to flow freely and grows in intensity as it becomes a geyser while he strides forward to meet the captain.
“I’m a freak. A monster, a wretch. A witch,” he says with disdain. The mist is spewing with such force that it is taking longer to dissipate, creating a trail that leads to a cosmic blanket hanging over Bax’s head. Lhos unconsciously takes a step back from the growing scale of the mass as the hairs on his arms stand on end, a daunting sense of danger overtaking him. “But I’m also a warrior. A rebel. I’m a frightened child who was tortured for information and a friend who gave up his own life to save another. I am a killer and a victim! I’m the bearer of the mark of the Hunter! I am Bax Demir, the Woodsman of Jorung, the Ranger Warden of the Northern Wilds and you will let these people go!”
In that moment, his feet sliding against the gravel, Lhos is transfixed by the cloud of night sky that expands above Bax. As it grows the image of deep purples and vibrant blues become more clear and the constellation of the Hunter begins to manifest. Lhos looks up and sees hundreds, thousands, an incalculable number of stars that overwhelm his view. An immense pressure builds up in his spine as Lhos senses as though each and every star is gazing and peering into his soul and scrutinizing his very being.
“Or we’re gonna have problems,” Bax concludes, slamming the haft of his spear down. This snaps Lhos from his stupor and he finds the young witch standing immediately in front of him, staring up with a new found confidence.
Lhos growls as he rears back, swinging the hammer down. Bax side steps the attack and ducks down as Lhos quickly brings the hammer back up at an angle that could have taken his head off had he not dodged; another concussive blast releases but proves only mildly deafening as he narrowly dodges.
Bax rolls to the captain’s side, thrusting this spear to pierce his thigh. Lhos cries out as he falls to one knee and Bax spins back, using Lhos’s knee as a springboard to launch himself up as he stabs down into his shoulder. This sends Lhos falling back and he scrambles quickly back to his feet just as Bax dashes up to him again, flourishing his spear and swinging the haft into his stomach with a cry. The impact launches Lhos ten feet backward, sliding to a stop, gasping to breathe.
He forces himself up swiftly to counter attack but before he has a chance to fully recover, Bax is already in the air in front of him as he swipes the haft of the spear down across his jaw. The strength of the impact sends Lhos back down to one knee as the white hot pain overtakes his mind. His vision blurred, he only narrowly dodges out of the way of a slicing spear head. Bax reorients himself after the missed strike, pulling back the spear as his right arm begins to glow gold underneath his sleeve. He strikes forward, thrusting the spear into Lhos’s other shoulder, releasing a blast of golden aura at the point of impact, sending Lhos backwards as he tumbles across the gravel again. It’s only after he comes to a stop does the pain set in and he roars in anger, holding his shoulder as blood drips down his finger tips onto the frozen earth.
“Captain,” Bax announces, “no one has to die today. I don’t care what you do after I leave here but I’m taking the tribesmen with me. Either release them and walk away with your life or I’ll release them and walk away with your life…”
Lhos narrows his eyes at the witch, anger bubbling in his throat, his heart beating in his ears. He stands and yells, “Who the hell do you think you are? You are a child, a feckless thing that uses filthy powers and magics! You think you’re better than me!? At least I’m still human! What are you even!?”
Taking a single step forward Bax coldly responds, “Submit Lhos.”
“No…” Lhos says quietly. “No! I will kill you and all these tribesmen that are so precious to you! You cannot stop this! Men! Unleash a volley unto the witch!”
A moment passes and no arrows are fired; Lhos turns around to see that the tribesmen are revolting. Despite their chains, malnourishment, and beatings for months, they are overpowering the Swans. His eyes widen as the realization sinks in - the witch is inspiring them to fight. Even in their weakened state, they still outnumber the soldiers and are keeping them occupied enough to prevent them from assisting.
Lhos turns back, sweat dripping down his face, as Bax stands unmoved. His face contorts into disappointment and anger as he sighs heavily and says, “You had your chance,” as he takes an aggressive stance and prepares to continue the duel.
Pushing through the fear that is overtaking him, Lhos rushes and meets Bax as they clash in a series of strikes. Small craters are formed as concussive blasts sound, bones are shattered, blood is spilled as the two warriors stand against one another. Bax quickly begins to overwhelm the captain as he is hitting faster and harder than Lhos can retaliate with.
In a moment of desperation, Lhos hits Bax with the butt of the warhammer, flips the weapon, and soars away with a concussive blast as Bax is sent flying the opposite direction. Recovering quickly, Bax finds Lhos quickly escaping and dashes after him; he is too far gone for Bax to catch up to him on foot so closing his eyes, he senses out the magic he had marked Lhos with. In the blink of an eye, the figure of Bax vanishes and a wisp of cosmic mist catches up to Lhos, reforming to Bax in the air in front of him. Lhos’s eye go wide in terror as the witch manifests himself from the ether, forcing his spear through his stomach as they crash into the ground.
Lhos cries out in agony as the witch stands over him, pulling the spear from the impalement, sending a shiver of suffering through his body. “Mercy!” he howls. “Mercy, please!”
Bax stands over the captain, looking down at the miserable prey. “Mercy…?” he questions, as a hint of blind rage flashes over his mind before subsiding. “Mercy. I’ll make it quick”
A weak smile from Lhos quickly turns to a cry of anger; before he has a chance to say anything further, Bax is leaned down, his spear already piercing the captain’s heart. Bax holds the head of the fading man, looking deep into his eyes as the light dwindles and solemnly remarks, “Respect the Hunt.”
“Well,” Tirald says, rubbing his shoulder that still throbs with pain after being pushed by Bax, “this has turned into a right clusterfuck. The amount of paperwork alone is going to take me ages to sort…” Tirald is walking back and forth in front of a line of Swan soldiers, those that weren’t beaten within an inch of their lives at least, as Bax is releasing the prisoners from their chains.
“But as far as worst case scenarios go I suppose only one life being lost isn’t so bad -” and Tirald is cut off before he can finish his thought as the sounds of fighting interrupt him. Two tribesmen are fighting but before it becomes too serious, Bax runs up, pulling them off of one another.
“What is happening here!” Bax yells in giant speech.
“We will not travel with these ones,” one dwarf accounces, as a goliath standing at eight feet tall looks down over everyone. “They are from a tribe of traitors that lie and steal from us!”
“No! You all are the liars!” The goliath attempts to slam a large fist onto the dwarf but is thrown off and hits the ground instead as Bax whacks it off course with the haft of his spear. He turns with fury in his eyes as Bax stands his ground.
“I don’t care who lied to who,” Bax yells in a grumbled giant speech. “You all will travel together as I return you to where you belong. There will be no in-fighting; we will work together to make certain everyone is returned safely!”
“And who are you to tell us what to do, puny human?” the goliath asks. “I should crush you both now and be rid of enemies who mean harm to my people!”
His magic eye flares up and a stream of mist begins to escape into the air. “Try me,” Bax declares. The dwarf that was in the original tussle takes a few steps back as Bax holds his ground and stares up to the goliath. The goliath blinks and loudly clears his throat as he takes a less aggressive stance.
“I don’t care what tribes you belong to,” Bax shouts so that as many of the tribesmen can hear him. “I don’t care about your grudges or your history. I will lead you back into the mountains. We will work together to make sure everyone is returned to their people safely. Those of you that have a problem are welcome to challenge me. Otherwise, consider all grievances paused!”
Many are too weak to put up much fight but where there was once tension between some tribesmen, Bax’s announcement immediately halts any in-fighting. “Gather weapons and supplies; tend to the wounded and weakest of your people! We will leave before dawn breaks!” he concludes.
“Demir,” Tirald calls out, “all good?”
Bax bounds up to Tirald who can see just how broozed and beaten he appeared, yet he had a smile across his face that carried an energy he hadn’t seen before . “Yeah, just settling them all down. We’ll be taking supplies and heading out in the morning.”
“I heard; it’s a feat you know. Being able to unite the tribes like that,” Tirald notes.
Bax shrugs, “They all have the same goal, to protect their people. They understand that it’s to their benefit to travel together, they just needed to be reminded. It also helps that I am stronger than them currently, seeing as they’re all exhausted,” he whispers.
“Good lad. Keep ‘em under your thumb for as long as you can, always better to travel united. You also carry a new vigor that you didn’t have before we arrived,” Tirald observes.
“Yeah,” Bax affirms. “Shitty as Lhos was, and as much as I dislike killing, I found something that I’ve been looking for in that fight. So I’m thankful to him in a weird way.”
“Good to hear; I like this new spirit you carry. And you understand that there are more mines where other tribesmen are held. I’ll be working on releasing and helping them all return to the best of my ability but it’ll be much slower than tonight,” Tirald reminds Bax cautiously.
“I remember, and that’s fine. I trust you to be kind in the work and to keep all the Swans in check. I’ll be back when I can to help any stragglers, you just keep them safe,” Bax responds.
“Very good; now then…” Tirald holds out his hand expectedly.
Looking down to his hand for a moment, Bax gives him a low five.
“Wha- no boy!” Tirald yells, confused. “The brooch! You said you’d be done with it after this mission. Well, you may hand it over now.”
“Oh right! Sorry ‘bout that,” Bax apologies, his cheeks slightly flushed. He unclasps the brooch from his cloak and stares at the small symbol in his palm. “Actually, if it’s alright, I think I’m gonna hold on to this.”
Surprised, Tirald cocks his eyebrow looking up to Bax. “You sure lad? Yesterday you seemed so set on not wanting this particular responsibility weighing on your shoulders.”
“I think so, yeah,” Bax confirms, smirking to himself. “I think I understand better now what the position is meant for, what I can use it for. So unfortunately for you all, Bax Demir, Ranger Warden of the Northern Wilds, intends to see this role through.”
Tirald chuckles, grasping Bax’s free hand and shaking it vigorously. “Don’t think I’d have it any other way. Baron Alistair Lin Isendel made the right call with you.”
“Maybe, but don’t let him know that I agree with him,” Bax stresses. “Oh! When you send your report, would you write a letter for me? I want to let my friends know that I’m gonna be gone longer than I’d anticipated.”
“Why wait? You all,” Tirald shouts, turning to the Swans. “The prisoners will be leaving in the morning! Faster than we’d expected but nonetheless, we will provide them supplies for their trip home. See to treating their sickly; if I hear word of any funny business or further mistreatment I will personally drag you back to Northgate to be court-martialed! Understood?”
The soldiers saluted and ran off to help with various duties. “Now,” Tirald says, leading Bax to base, “let’s get to writing your letter and rested up for the evening.”
With a rejuvenated spirit and a fire in his heart, Bax crested the mountain range just as dawn was breaking. The tribesmen were slow moving but were determined to make the trek; their courage and strength bolstered Bax’s own resolve as he looked down over the treeline and could barely make out the edges of the mining site they left a few hours ago.
He readjusted the warhammer on his shoulder, intent on returning it to the Skejagrr tribe, and stayed ahead of the pack for any dangers. As the cold morning air whipped at his face, he smiled at the fresh air, breathing in deeply. He looked out over the pale white mountainscape and let the freedom of it all sit with him a moment before he continued onward.
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