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Chapter Text

“I think we lost them,” Takiv attempted to say as he struggled to catch his breath.
The two brothers stood for a moment, expecting to see a glimpse of the Carja soldiers chasing after them. They didn’t dare say anything to each other as they waited to see what would happen. Minutes passed without either of them spotting any sign of the raiders pursuing them.
“Thank the Forge it’s over,” Takiv sighed with relief.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Tavim told him cautiously, his eyes now focused on the rest of the surrounding environment, “We’re in Nora land now. If they don’t know we’re already, they soon will. We’ll have to be careful to step carefully. A Nora Brave can track a mouse on stone should they want to. We better find somewhere to camp for the night.”
Takiv felt his sense of relief immediately vanish upon realizing where they were. The Nora did not tolerate outsiders, regardless of their tribe.

Night fell as the two brothers prepared for the long journey back west the following day.
“I suppose we should be lucky we haven’t encountered any Nora yet,” Takiv said with a dulled sense of relief.
“Don’t be too sure,” Tavim told him, “They’re probably watching us from a distance. Too much effort to kill, or perhaps they don’t want to bother with us when they don’t have to.”
“How would you know?”
“I came here a few years ago, remember? Looking for scrap with Boland and his crew.”
“At least we got a warm fire for a change. Where are we anyway?”
“Maybe half a day south of Devils Grief. We’re next to the mountains that border the eastern most part of the Nora Sacred Land. I hear there are vast planes of grassland and wind so strong it can lift herds of machine into the air beyond these mountains.”
“By spit and fire you come out with the dumbest goat shit. There ain’t no wind strong enough to lift any machine, not even a watcher.”
“That’s just what I heard. Remember Kevah? Bolands sister? Apparently she went beyond these mountains a year before the raids began.”
“Whatever happened to her? She ever return to the Claim like she was supposed to?”
“No. Her caravan was raided last year. She was killed, along with six others. Rest went to Sunfall. She got lucky.”
The Red Raids had been going on nine years too long. Both brothers knew plenty who’d been killed, or worse taken the Carja city of Sunfall to fight in the Sun Ring. The Carja claimed it was to appease their precious Sun, not that the reasons mattered to anyone. It was merely understood by everyone that it was better to die fighting than be sent to the Sun Ring.
“Shame, I liked her,” Takiv noted quietly.
“Sure you did, not like you had a chance.”
They had both lost so much in the last few years. Sure, it had made their bond stronger than the one most siblings shared. But it had also caused them to forget what it meant to never struggle to survive. The last nine years had been difficult, with not even the Claim safe from the Carja and their apparent lust for needless slaughter.
“When was the last time we went home,” Tavim asked with a quiet sadness.
“Couple of years, I think. Why?”
“Just thinking about everyone we left behind. Wondering if any of them are still around.”
“Well don’t. No good thinking about the forge when the fires too hot to touch. Besides, they all know what they’re doing. I’m sure they’re keeping themselves safe.”
“Still, I’d like to visit sooner, rather than later. Just to see for myself.”
…
Takiv woke the following morning to an unexpected surprise.
“Who’s that,” he asked, pointing to the sleeping stranger next to the campfire.
“Don’t know,” Tavim answered while focusing more on packing up the few supplies the two brothers had left to them.
The stranger didn’t appear to be a member of any tribe he was familiar with. He clearly wasn’t Nora, or Carja. Maybe Banuk, but even that seemed to be a stretch as he didn’t have the expected blue cables inserted into his skin as a Banuk would have.
“Could he have come from beyond the eastern mountains,” he asked out loud.
“Unlikely. There are cannibals and Nora exiles beyond those mountains. I doubt they’d let someone like him through unharmed,” Tavim explained, “He’s not from the west either. I’ve met both Tenakth and Utaru and he’s neither. I don’t know his tribe, if he haves one.”
Beyond the strange clothing, the stranger also appeared to lack any weapons or supplies. He couldn’t have come from very far without either.
“We should at least see if he needs help,” Takiv told his brother, “After all, he does seem to need it.”
“No. We already don’t have enough to get us out of the Sacred Land, let alone making that far with some stranger. We need to keep moving to avoid both the Nora and the Carja.”
“Oh come on Tavim, look at him! We can’t just leave him here.”
The two brothers were backed into their own stubborn prides and refused to admit defeat. They knew both of the were right, but they only cared about being more right than the other.
“Fine,” Tavim finally gave in, “I’ll wake him up, but we need to get moving quickly.”

Tavim woke the stranger with a rough shake, causing him to jolt upright with the unexpected shock. The stranger looked around without saying a word, and to the two brothers it looked like he was attempting to look for a danger that wasn’t really there.
“Hello,” Takiv spoke with some small degree of charm, “Nice to finally see you awake. My brother and I were just about to leave.”
The stranger didn’t immediately respond, instead he continued to keep his eyes on the world as he sat up. He scanned the trees, the grass, the sky looking for a threat he thought should be there.
“You looking for something,” Tavim asked.
“No, I… just had a nightmare. Wanted to be sure I am where I thought I should be.”
Tavim and Takiv looked at each other with a shared concern.
“You’re not from around here, are you,” Takiv asked politely, “Mind if I ask where you’re from?”
The stranger seemed to calm a little before continuing the conversation.
“No…,” he answered carefully, “I came from the far east after my tribe was destroyed. I was hoping to find somewhere new to start again.”
“Well, you came to the wrong place for that. These days we have more endings than beginnings,” Takiv explained, “Probably a good thing we found you before someone else does. People just aren’t as friendly as they used to be.”
“I see. Well, at least you two seem friendly enough. My names David, if you’re needing to know.”
“David. Strange name that. Well, I’m Takiv and that miserable old bastard over there is my older brother Tavim. Don’t mind him, he’s always been like that.”
Tavim simply grunted his response, not caring about the insult casually thrown his way.

“It’s time for us to go,” Tavim said almost immediately after packing away the last of the supplies.
The sun had risen enough that they were an obvious target to anyone passing by and he was anxious to get moving again before they were found.
“Hey, David, why don’t you come with us,” Takiv quickly offered, “It’d be nice to have pleasant company for a change.”
“Hey! I already told you we don’t have enough supplies for all three of us!”
David remained silent while he considered it. Somehow he knew he could trust them, that following them would be the right choice to make. But he second guessed the feeling. He didn’t know them, not enough to know for sure if he could trust them. But the feeling was one he had been all too familiar with and he had learned to trust it when it came to making choices.
“Okay. I’ll come with you,” he finally told them with a smile, “It’ll be nice having some company for a change.”
“Fine, have it your way,” Tavim sighed in defeat, “But we’ll need to gather what supplies we can along the way, even if that means looting it. That okay with you?”
“No problem,” David agreed, “Not like any of us have a choice.”

Chapter Text

Ersa waited for the Carja convoy to pass by the last line of explosives before she gave the signal to proceed. The war against the Carja had taught her patience, a skill she had long since perfected and added to an ever growing deadly arsenal. She could hear the arrogant boasting of the lead Kestral despite the sizeable distance and large rock that separated the two of them as he told of his many achievements against the inferior Oseram and their attempts to repel the Carja invaders.
“Asera, blow them on my mark,” she whispered, “Three, two, BLOW!”

A large explosion immediately erupted and consumed the rear guard of the Carja convoy, shooting shockwaves through both ends of the canyon. Three of the Carja caught in the blast died instantly and several more were severely injured from the resulting flames and debris. Two dozen Oseram warriors erupted from the canyon walls and immediately began dealing with the now disorganized Carja soldiers. Unable to react in time to the sudden attack, most of the Carja fell before they could draw their weapons and defend themselves. Ersa went straight for the Kestral, gutting him with his spear as he raised his sword to strike her down. She pulled her weapon from him and he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. She managed to strike down several more Carja soldiers who had valiantly decided to avenge their fallen commander. She turned to see the others were already finishing off the last of the Carja.
“Hurry and free the captives before reinforcements get here,” she shouted, “Asera, finish taking what you need. I don’t want you leaving anything behind for the Carja to use.”
“Right, just give me a minute.”
The fight couldn’t have lasted for more than five minutes, but that only meant it had gone on for three minutes too long for Ersa to remain comfortable. The last thing they needed was another Carja patrol to fight off while trying to fall back with the rescued captives and injured fighters.
“Ersa,” Asera shouted from behind the same boulder they had both been behind, “We’re good to go!”
“Right! Everyone, let’s go!”
She made sure she was the last one to leave the battlefield. She wouldn’t allow anyone else to be left behind. Not while she could still fight.

…

The merry band of Freebooters returned to camp with the rescued captives and were met with a renewed celebration. There were offers of drinks from everyone they passed, but Ersa only cared about seeing her brother again.
“Hey lunkhead,” she spoke softly to him, “How you feeling?”
Erend sat up and waved her concern off.
“I’m fine,” he told her with confident bravado, “Just eager to fight again. Don’t like sitting in here while you’re out hogging all the glory.”
“Did you thank Korl? He did save your life after all.”
“We had a drink together, yeah. Some things were said, it turned into a brawl. It’s all good now.”
“Erend,” she muttered with disappointment, “You weren’t supposed to fight him, or anyone, until you were fully healed.”
“I am though, see,” told her while standing up to prove his point, “I’m as good as I’ll ever be. Just, don’t make walk in a straight line and we’ll be okay.”
“Okay, I won’t,” Ersa laughed, “Come on, let’s get you another drink while I’m still in a good mood.”

“I see you got everyone,” Dervahl stated with a quiet, malicious cheer, “Asera tells me the Carja dropped like Striders to arrows.”
“What can I say, we fought well,” Ersa told him blankly, “She did a good job with those explosives. Her explosives did most of the work, even managed to take out a couple before we even got a chance to fight.”
“Ha, I should have thought of that,” he suddenly laughed out loud, “Kill them with our explosives AND rescue those they took! I knew the two of you could do it without me.”
Ersa couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable some of the others became when Dervahl laughed out loud. He’d become more… alienating to most everyone since his family had been killed. His way of fighting against the Carja had always been effective, but now it was simply becoming more excessive and it was becoming too much for many of the others who had taken up the call to fight back against the invaders.”
“Yea, it worked out great,” she finally told him dryly, “I doubt it’ll keep working if we overuse it. Remember what happened last time Korl had a good idea?”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he answered before turning to Erend, “How’s the stab wound?”
“It’s fine. I’m just eager to get into the fight again,” came the drunken, nearly incoherent response.
“That’s great news. Next time, we’ll fight together again.”
“Speaking of ambushes, why didn’t you come with us,” Ersa asked Dervahl with a hint of suspicion.
“You know why. Besides, you didn’t need me. You did fine on your own.”

It was always the same story with Dervahl. He was always so eager to fight the Carja, but sometimes he was so caught up in his own plans that he sometimes chose not to take part in the ambushes and attacks he himself had planned. He was up to something, something that would drive yet more Oseram away and radicalize those who sincerely followed him. He always took things too far, even if it meant driving away his allies in the process, just like at Unflinching Watch. He’d gone too far during the attempt to capture the watchtower. They had intended to take it and use it to secure the eastern route between the two tribes, limiting the number of ways the Carja could use to continue their plunder of the Oseram tribe. Instead Dervahl lost control and used his explosives to destroy the watchtower. That explosion killed many of the Carja defenders and some of the Oseram that Dervahl and Ersa took to take the location from them. He seemed to enjoy it, the very act of destroying everything Carja seemed to be the only thing he cared about that day. And those who came back knew it. Ersa and a few others stayed, many others chose to leave. She didn’t blame them. She would’ve too if she thought there was a better way to fight the Carja that didn’t mean having to follow the monster known as Dervahl. She would simply have to suffer with him, for now at least.

Chapter Text

“He still refuses to accept your proposal,” the Blameless Marad asked rhetorically, “It’s a shame really. He’s the best chance we have of getting it to work.”
He’d moved so silently Avad hadn’t realized he was being approached until the man had spoken top him. As was typical of the Spymaster, he remained in the shadow and away from the sight of others who might act against him.
“Not now Marad, I’m not in the mood for your games,” Avad told him in an attempt to wave him away.
Marad simply kept himself planted firmly in place, as if he didn’t recognize the attempt to get him to leave.
“My apologies for pressing the matter, but there is a need to plan for what happens next. I suspect the King won’t take lightly to his chosen heir demanding an end to the raids.”
“What are you saying? Are you trying to claim he’ll punish Kadaman somehow? I very much doubt that.”
“Jiran is not a forgiving man, nor is he slow to calm once angered, which has become much too common as of late. At the very least, he will maybe consider selecting a new heir should Kadaman openly defy his king. You would be the obvious next choice for the role. Perhaps it’s best to begin making plans for such an eventuality?”
Avad considered it for a moment but then decided he was too tired for games. He could barely consider such a proposal at the best of times, much less right now. And rising against the Sun King would be an act against everything the Carja believed in.
“And what will he do if he finds out one of his advisors is conspiring against him? Especially one risen from such a low class.”
If Marad took any offence to the sudden insult, he didn’t show it instead remaining quiet, stoic and patient to the point of becoming stubborn.
“I act in the best interests of the tribe. Sometimes that means advising the King on important matters, other times it means ensuring the proper countermeasures are put into place to ensure the security of the tribe.”
“Even if that means acting against your King?”
“Should the need arise, then yes. In this case I believe helping you and your brother would be best for the tribe.”
Avad frowned. With Kadaman insisting on trying to reason with their father and Marad trying to convince him to overthrow him, it was starting to become too much for him to handle. He wanted to make it all go away, turn back to a time before the Red Raids and stay there. But such simple times were behind him and the issues presented before him were starting to give him a headache.
“I’ll consider it. But say nothing to Kadaman, just in case. Father might not throw us in the Sun Ring, but he won’t hesitate should you anger him. Now leave me, I need to get some rest. This day has gone on long enough.”
“Of course your Majesty. Light be with you.”
Marad left as quietly as he approached, remaining a mere shadow unseen by everyone else in the palace. Avad had his issues with the man, but he had to admit that Marad was rarely wrong about the important details. He wanted to trust Kadaman, take assurance that the Sun King could in fact be reasoned with, but the simple truth was simply that Jiran might be too far gone to be talked into ending the slaughter.

Avad kept thinking back to when he first saw that look in his father’s eyes, that need to spill blood and kill. It was at that moment he knew his father was toon far gone. There would be no end to the madness until he was removed from the throne and Kadaman made King in his place. But to overthrow a reigning Sun King would itself be an act of madness, a treasonous act against the very Sun itself. And if the faith of the priests were to be believed, the death of a Sun King would surely bring about the end of the world. Avad might not have been a particularly strong believer in the Sun Faith, in fact he very much held no faith at all, but even he was not one to tempt such dire fate. Or was he? Perhaps the only way to put an end to the madness and make the world right again was to end Jiran, end his insanity and his bloody reign before it was too late. Avad held no desire for a throne, and respected and adored his brother too much to deny him what was rightfully his. Perhaps killing his own father was… No. Avad quickly forced himself to stop thinking along these very dangerous lines of thought. To even consider killing his father was itself an act that went against everything Avad believed was right. The only way to end the madness was to encourage Kadaman to apply for regency. The priests couldn’t fight that, not without the support of the military and nobles. Admittedly even that would be a difficult task with Helis in command. But even he wouldn’t dare strike down the heir to the throne, as violent as he was. At the end of the day, all Avad could do was hope for the best. Even a Prince could only do so much and he had done as much as he could already. It was on Kadaman now to help bring their father back to reality and end the madness.

“You called for me,” Vanasha asked, annoyed at being called away from her present duties.
“Yes, I have a task for you. I need you to find the two Oseram brothers we hired for the Solstice Heist and bring them to Brightmarket,” Marad explained.
“You seem worried, is something wrong?”
“Perhaps. I am merely placing the right pieces on the board, that is all. Don’t worry about your master, I’ve already dealt with that. I’ll explain more when you return.”
“Understood.”

Chapter Text

David found no warmth in the campfire, no comforting light to provide the sweet dreams he wish he had instead of the nightmares that haunted his every conscious moment. So many thoughts of things he should have done and needed to go on doing. There was a part of him that wanted to fight anything and everything, where he could simply act on his instinct rather than think back and remember the horrors he had seen. But another part of himself knew doing so would betray those he’d fought for, the vows he took to protect those who needed him to fight. If he were to fight, it would be for something greater than himself. Where his life and death would mean something to somebody. Where the violence had meaning, rather than simply a way to express his own personal rage and grief onto those who never deserved such an expression. And of course there was the small, mysterious part of himself that somehow knew that pushing forward would give him the peace he didn’t believe he’d ever find.

But there was no more fighting, no grand war that called for him to raise arms against an enemy untold or glorious cause that needed another hero to die for a greater good. There was only the darkness of a long despair and a lifetime of nightmares he knew he could never escape from. No more hope to be found in the pits of despair where his heart should have been. No place for as soul lost to time.

Tavim had kept an eye on the stranger. His initial worries about David being hostile had very quickly died down when he realized what the younger man really was: a soldier with no war left to fight nor home to return to. This boy who was barely a man had already seen more than he ever should have seen. That look in his eyes said it all. Picking up two bowls of food, he sat next to David and offered him a bowl.

“The sun will be up in a few hours,” he quietly told him, “You should get some rest while you can.”
David kept quiet as he took the food offered and slowly started to eat.
“You know, I’ve been around a long time. Used to travel the roads between Meridian and the Clanlands as a trader, then worked as a smuggler first couple of years after the Red Raids began. Now I’m just another thief on the run.”
“You used to work as a trader,” he asked, “What happened?”
“My caravan was attacked. There were eight of us at the time. Three wagons full of goods meant for Meridian, mostly machine parts and speciality items rarely found outside the Clanlands. We weren’t expecting the Carja to turn on us, but they were on us before we knew what was happening. I got away, so did one of the others. A few weeks later I heard the others had all been sent into the Sun Ring. They were among the first to be murdered by the Carja.”
“They just attacked you? Without warning?”
“Yeah. It came to a surprise to us too. The Carja always looked down on the other tribes, but they’d never done anything like this before. Not to the Oseram, at least.”
“What happened after the attack?”
“I returned home, but soon after we began hearing rumours about the Sun Rings and the sacrifices. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, so I spent a few years helping people escape the Sundom.”

Tavim hoped his story could help David, but ultimately he knew it was a matter of time and support. Whatever the young man had been through and seen, it must have been very recent judging by his lack of supplies and look of extreme trauma. The Oseram had seen it plenty of times from the refugees he’d rescued from the Carja. The only thing he could do is help when needed.