Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The days seemed to be blending together recently.

Or maybe it was the routine that made it feel that way.

They wake up, Wren makes breakfast, Asharae restocks their curatives and Nug prepares their travel packs then they go and deal with whatever contract they have to deal with that day, either come home or make camp, make dinner and settle down for the night. Then the following day they would seek out the person who posted the contract and get payment. Only for the same thing to happen the next day and so on. Occasionally, someone would change their routine such as Sven, though meeting with him only really made Wren happy; Asharae avoided even talking about the lad while Nug was curious but didn’t intrude on her master’s meeting with his little friend. She would save questions about Sven for later in the evening.

It should be boring routine and it kind of was but it was getting gold in their pockets and slowly was making the wilds of Vermund that little bit safer. And if the people of Vermund were safer, then they were also happier and that made Brant happy which means he was more relaxed about the elven siblings travelling further from the city.

Which meant Wren and Asharae could go to Melve with no pressure to rush back to Vernworth.

And that is what they did.

They went to Melve, to see how the rebuild was going. Slowly but it was progress. To help in providing food and curatives and keep record of the lack of response from the palace despite their multiple pleas for aid, Brant said these would be a good source of proof that Disa was neglecting her people’s needs. It was also nice to catch up with Ulrika and Lennart too.

Even in its de-shelved state, Melve was a breath of fresh air from the atmosphere of Vernworth. Or was it just the mountain air? But the quite was always welcome and it lead to them staying in the village longer than they initially planned, they hadn’t end noticed that it was getting darker until one of the very few sentinels that patrolled Melve approached Ulrika and informed her that they would be taking up position at the broken gate.

Ulrika had offered the elves and pawns the chance to stay the night, promising that there was more than enough room at the inn but Wren and Asharae wanted to get back to Vernworth. They had bounties to deliver.

They made the fatal mistake of travel at night when leaving the Melve area.

It was arrogance on their part. They had walked the road between Melve and Vernworth so many times that they could do it in their sleep at this point.

They knew where bandits made their camps, they knew the favoured goblin ambush points, they knew where the harpies made their nest and they even remembered that foul ogre that like to use the roads as its hunting ground. So many hazards and they memorized all of them, so they figured travelling at night wouldn’t be any different than travelling during the day. Maybe they would encounter a few ghosts and skeletons but those weren’t an issue.

Of all the monsters they predicted they would run into, a dullahan was not even on the pages.

It caught them off guard.

And they should have spotted the signs that something was wrong.

Suddenly lesser monsters were gone from the path. The night went eerily still, not even an owl hooting or a rabbit scampering through the bushes could be heard then a thick fog fell over them at an alarming rate. Nug stuck to Wren’s side like a leech when they were in the fog, they had just taken down a small number of ghosts and she was still shaken from being possessed by one, and Wren tried to reassure her that they were safe. If it was more ghosts then they couldn’t possibly see the group in this fog even with their lanterns lit.

He was in the middle of easing Nug down from a panic attack when that unholy wail pierced their ears, causing them all to drop down to their knees and cover their ears in an effort to prevent them from bleeding.

Then the fog vanished just a quickly as it arrived and a headless specter advanced on them, its severed head held high like a lantern and a curved blade in the other hand. Wren’s blood turned to ice, he wanted to scream from them all to run, that they didn’t stand a chance against this other worldly thing and they should flee while they still had their own heads on their shoulders but the dullahan disappeared in the blink of an eye and just when Wren hoped that it was a hallucination, it appeared inches from him and his body was wrapped in an invisible force that lifted him into the air.

It felt like the life was being being squeezed out of him.

He couldn’t even scream in pain. All he could do was writhe in agony as everything around him drew darker and colder.

Wren didn’t know who did it, was it Asharae, was it Nug or one of the other pawns, but one of them was able to stagger the dullahan enough that it dropped him and then Nug picked back up onto his feet. What followed was not a valiant battle, it was a struggle to stay alive.

They weren’t nearly powerful enough to take on this monster and it knew it, at this point it was just playing with them, slowly sucking the life out of each other when it had the chance as they struggled to repeal it. Escape was just as fruitless as the dullahan would constantly block their path, in the end it was a waiting game. Trying to stay alive as they waited for the first light of dawn, only when sunlight started to show over the horizon that the dullahan let out a shriek of pain and vanished again but this time it didn’t come back.

Everything went dark after that.

The next thing Wren remembered was waking up in a small clearing, Asharae unconscious at his side along with the other two pawns, a small fire burning and Nug sat near by watching him like a hawk. No. She wasn’t staring at him, she was staring through him.

Taking in her posture, Nug had her knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. Her entire body shaking like she was hit with a frigor chill and snow harpy breath at the same time, eyes wide but not focused. Wren crawled over to her and brought her into his arms, running his fingers though her short hair and telling her that she was so brave, that he was beyond proud that she was able to carry them all to safety and watch over them when they were vulnerable. All while she was injured too. He always knew that Nug had a fear of ghosts, she would hesitate at sound of their blood chilling laughter or flinch away if they came close to her, but this run in with the dullahan was another level of terror.

It took a couple of hours for Asharae and the other pawns to wake up and by the time they did, the sun was starting to set so they decided to spend one more night in the area. Nug wasn’t comfortable sleeping this close to where the dullahan attacked, Wren told her not to worry and during his hunt for a meal, he stumbled across a small but run down cabin further into the woods and next to the river.

It was perfect.

And the bandits occupying it were easily taken care of. Wren forgot how quick it could be to take out bandits from the cover of the shadows, he was so use to Nug and Asharae just running into a battle unless he was quick enough to pull them back.

He hunted down a boar and returned to his sister and pawn, told them about a safer place they could stay and the speed that Nug leaped off the ground and ran towards where the cabin was, would have put a tumbling rock rattler to shame. If Wren and Asharae were being honest, they didn’t want to spend another near where that dullahan attacked them either.

They slept much easier that night but the need to get back to Vernworth and sleep in the safety of their own home was still great.

Wren made a joke that given their recent run of bad luck that the moment they set foot in the city, they would be attacked by a group of ogres and have to take care of them because the sentinels struggled to remember while end of the sword was the pointy end.

Asharae smacked him upside the head for that comment.

Telling him to keep his mouth shut so he didn’t jinx them.

Things took a turn for the better when they got back on the road and an oxen cart rolled up behind them, Wren could have kissed the driver and Asharae could have cried with relief. There was no debate on whether they should spend money on the lift, they practically threw the gold at the unsuspecting man and scrambled into the back of the cart. Ready to let their aching legs rest for a while and enjoy an uneventful ride.

Or it would have been uneventful if a griffin hadn’t landed on the cart when they were rolling up to the oxen fields.

They just weren’t having any luck.

-

“I am so tired...” Asharae yawned.

“I could crawl into my bedroll and sleep for a week.” Nug added, stretching her arms above her head and popped any stiff joints but groaned in pain when a particularly loud crack was heard from her back. It made both Wren and Asharae flinch.

“T’would be nothing short of heavenly to retire to our bedrolls and ne’er leave them but I must remind you both that we have to hand in our current contracts and collect our payment.” Wren reminded them, holding up the sack that was holding three goblin heads, a severed and bound pair of harpy wings, a minotaur horn and an ogre toe. Why someone would want that last one as a trophy was anyone’s guess but Wren wasn’t going to question or judge, not as long as he got paid. But at the reminder that they couldn’t just go home, Asharae and Nug let out a groan like a noble being told to do farm work for the first time. “Must we hand them o’er this moment? Can it not wait until tomorrow when we are not ready to drop?” Asharae asked, not even bothering to disguise her exhausted tone.

“I’m afraid not, dear sister. That dullahan-” Nug shivered at the mention of the headless specter. “It delayed us and we are on borrowed time before these monster parts being to rot.” From the smell some where already starting to turn but Wren just hoped that was the natural odor of the ogre toe and not decaying flesh.

Asharae threw her head back and let out a loud groan, even Nug slumped forward and whined. They were so tired!

And they didn’t have to go with Wren to deliver these bounties.

“Go home.” He told them as he reached out and flicked the tip of his sister’s eat to get her to focus. She let out a yelp and slapped his hand away with a glare. “That dullahan must have scrambled what is left of your mind, how can we go home if we have monster parts to deliver?”

“Only one of us need to be there to collect payment.”

“...Oh.”

Wren chuckled and ruffled his sister’s already messy hair. “It appears that your mind is the one that is scrambled.” He teased. Again, Asharae slapped his hand away but this time she turned away with a huffy pout and red cheeks.

“Hush. I’m tired, tis not my fault my thoughts are not organized.”

He couldn’t hold that against her.

“Go home.” Wren repeated but in a much more affectionate tone. “Go to bed and sleep. I shan’t be long.”

-

Asharae didn’t try to argue, she just told her brother to not be long.

It was funny that she felt the need to tell him that, it wasn’t like he intended on wandering around the city.

His bedroll was practically singing out to him in a voice more alluring than the most beautiful harpy.

As expected, the noble that posted those contracts tried to haggle down the payment but Wren wouldn’t budge. He threatened to take the monster parts and sell them to the blacksmith for parts and the noble would have no trophies to compete with his ‘friends’, that got the man to fork out the correct payment and even request Wren’s services should he desire any more monster parts. At this point, Wren was starting to think the man may just want a gruesome collection instead of something to brag about.

But he got paid, that was the important thing.

And now he could go home and go to sleep.

On the way back, he stopped by the Pawn Guild and dismissed his hired pawns but not before telling them what a good job they did and handing them each a small leather bag with roborants and various potions that Asharae had made as an extra show of gratitude for their efforts.

With that handled, all that was left for Wren to do was check the notice board for fresh bounties then he could go home and-

“Hoy!”

Spoke too soon...

Hurried foot steps ran up to the tired elf and Wren was ready to tell the person that he wasn’t in the mode for any more requests or even small talk. He just wanted to go to bed. But when he turned to source of the voice, all of his irritation vanished as quick as that dullahan when he was met with Sven’s bright, smiling face. “Faring well, I hope?” Sven asked happily, he didn’t notice how worn out the old man was, he was just so happy to see his friend.

And Wren couldn’t bring himself to sour the lad’s bright mood.

“It has been, shall we call it, an eventful few days.”

Sven nodded. “I do wish I could say the same but I am afraid my day has been dreadfully dull. I was partly expecting this outing to be a short one until I saw you.” Sven then started looking anywhere but directly at the elf, his cheeks taking on a more red colour as he played with the edge of his waist coat. “Would you care to join me? I’d not say no to a bit of company.”

Wren should say ‘no’.

Politely explain that it wasn’t just a long day but an extremely tiring one and he had a very long journey back to the city, he was still sore from the griffin that landed on their heads and he just wanted to go home and sleep for a month. He would promise to make it up to the lad on their next meeting but instead of saying all of that, Wren said. “I find myself unable to deny you anything.”

If he wasn’t a noble, Sven would be bouncing with joy and excitement. “I was hoping you’d say that. Do you know, I had a feeling we’d meet today. Intuition, I suppose.”

Or fate.

Fate really liked to poke fun at Wren and Asharae.

Wren laughed regardless and rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t lie, these meetings had quickly becomes something he looked forward to every time he, his sister and pawn would return to Vernworth. “I am happy to see you too, my dear.” He confessed. Let’s just hope the light that Sven brought into his life would be enough to stop Wren from passing out on the spot.

“Would you join me on a friendly jaunt around the square?”

The aching muscles and bones of Wren’s body screamed for a rest, begging for Wren to ask if he and Sven could just sit at the fountain like they usually did during these meetings but he couldn’t. Instead, he nodded for Sven to lead the way to which a wide grin broke out on the boy’s face as he quickly grabbed Wren’s hand and pulled him along while the elf silently prayed that Asharae had some muscle soothing salve stored away, he was really going to need it after this outing.

-

Any and all gods must have been laughing at Wren.

It was the only excuse for why this was happening.

Sven was usually so reserved, often getting flustered if he displayed any kind of energetic display of emotion but he was full of vim today.

At some point he went from holding Wren’s hand to looping their arms together as they walked, this was a far cry from how bashful he was when they shared that small package of pastries and he ate one of them right out of Wren’s hand. Granted, they hadn’t brought up that incident since it happened either.

Maybe he had just grown so comfortable around the elf that he didn’t feel the need to hide his emotions, if that was the case then it brought Wren some joy too. Sven might have been very guarded about who he was and his own family, only every mentioning his mother and how protective she was of him, so if being around the older man gave him room to breathe from her smothering then he wouldn’t question it.

And it was knowing that Sven had this freedom around him was also another reason for Wren to keep his mouth shut and not complain about how sore his body was as the boy dragged him from the market stalls to the alchemist and then to the blacksmith. Sven was rather fascinated by the weapons and armour on display, asking questions about how anyone could move in the heavy steel plates, never mind fight in it.

Wren said it wasn’t for everyone but it took a lot of practice.

When Sven was examining the bows, Wren took the chance to look at the various arrows that were on sale too. Maybe he could expand his own arsenal, explosive arrows were all well and good but what about tarred arrows? If he could convince Asharae to use her magick more in battle, those could be useful and then there was blighted arrows, the uses for poison could not be understated and they were always running into asps that could be harvested. Asharae wouldn’t let him flasks of poison from a merchant, she would ask why was he wasting their gold when she could make a potent poison that he could coat his arrows in.

Then Nug might suggest dipping all their weapons in poison.

This might be something that he has to talk to Asharae about in private.

After that dullahan, they had to rethink a lot of their current strategies.

He must have been spacing out because he didn’t hear Sven calling out his name until the boy touched his arm, making the elf jolt. Had he a blade on his blade, it would have been drawn and Wren would have been ready to defend himself, Sven must had seen the panicked look in his eyes because he stepped and withdrew his hand. The elf was mortified with himself. He took a couple of breaths to ease his nerves and apologized to his young friend.

It was clear that Sven wanted to ask if this sudden change in behaviour was related to Wren’s migraines but held his tongue on the matter, it wasn’t his place to discuss the elf’s private business. So he smiled and said there was nothing to forgiven, Sven was the one that fault. He shouldn’t have touched the older man without saying something first.

They stopped back at the fountain and Wren was hoping it meant they were going to sit down for a moment but he had no such luck, instead Sven’s focus was now directed at a beggar that was loudly busking. Funny enough, the only part of Wren that wasn’t aching was his ears but if he stayed here listening to this man’s caterwauling then they would quickly join the rest of his body. But Sven was enjoying the spectical. He was enthralled by the tall tale, hanging on the beggar’s every words that caused a feeling of jealous to bubble up in him, he couldn’t help but wonder if Sven would be just as invested in his tales of monsters?

A foolish though.

He pushed the jealousy back down and watched the beggar, the man wasn’t even much of a natural story teller like a travelling bard. His volume was the only thing attracting the audience. Looking around to see if any one else was as invested as Sven and he was met with mixed results but one aged beastren caught Wren’s eye, the man appeared to be almost disapproving of the display.

Did they know each other?

The beastren must have felt someone staring at him because he turned his head towards Wren. The flinched and was ready to pretend it never happened but to his surprise, the man gave him a friendly half smile and a subtle nod towards the other beggar. He wasn’t buying this tale either.

“...He delved into a temple of baleful feature, only to be confronted by a four-legged creature! But when our hero drew his blade, unto him a demand was made. And who the asker? Why, the beast! An uncanny affair, to say the least!” There certainly were a lot of over exaggerated arm movements from this man. Lots of pointing, waving and even pretending to wield a sword from his sword from his hip.

Did he expect a gasp of surprise from the crowd at the mention of a monster talking?

Many monster were capable of speech, it was just some were better at it than others. Like harpies, singing wasn’t their only talent.

“Yet there was no time for shock and dismay, as ‘Answer my riddle’ did the fearsome thing say.”

A riddle?

A monster that gave out riddles?

“The trickery was clear: to respond meant certain doom. For in the midst of his answer, he’d doubtless be consumed! So a mighty attack did our hero dispense, to conquer his foe and banish it thence. With a single strike was towering beast repelled, to quail in fear at the mortal strength it beheld.”

An intelligent monster being repelled by a lone human with only a sword to protect them?

If Asharae were here, she would be on the ground with laughter and shouting out all the inconsistencies with the man’s story and Wren would let her. He would happily sit back and enjoy the display, he wondered if Sven would find that more entertaining than whatever this was.

Because it was so bizarre and clearly filled with lies.

Still...

Even the most strange tale usually held the tiniest grain of truth, whose to say the mysterious beast in the beggar’s tale didn’t exist? Wren would have to take note of it in his journal when he got home, maybe run it by Asharae and see if she encountered anything that resembled what the man was describing during their time apart.

Or they could get drunk and laugh about it.

Wren was so focused on thinking of reasons why the beggar’s story was fake that he didn’t even notice that his ‘brave and noble’ tale was drawing to a close. The man threw his arms out in a welcoming gesture, looking very pleased with himself. “Such is the legacy of Lord Rosamund, who needless to say, was the father of House Berkeley, which lives on to this day.” He expressed proudly and was met with luke warm applause, including Sven.

‘Berkeley, eh? More like berk if anyone is to believe that tale was true.’

A bit weird for a beggar to sing the praises of a noble family though, it wasn’t like they ran in similar circles. Had the man once been a servant at that particular house?

No, that didn’t make sense either.

He wouldn’t be a beggar if he had a job, even if he was just scrubbing the stone floors, and if he had been dismissed by the master or mistress of the house then that is going to leave a level of bitter resentment. So why is he boasting the reputation of this family? Very strange.

And he still kept talking...

“Should my tale have entertained you – nay, even if it hadn’t – I would greatly appreciate a coin or two to soothe my throat with a mug or two!” The man nudged a mildly bashed tin mug forward with his foot to encourage people to give him some gold, some did but they didn’t look very entertained. Probably a pity payment or an effort to get the man to shut up. That meant he and Sven could finally leave, Wren prepared to turn and follow his friend to whatever caught his interest next but instead the boy didn’t budge.

Sven’s hand went to his pocket but stopped when his fingertips brushed against the full coin purse he was carrying and his stance deflated in defeat, he remembered he didn’t have any coin to spare for the man. The coin he was carrying was meant to pay back more of his debt.

‘Perchance I can give him a coin or two next-’

Suddenly a hand holding a few gold pieces appeared in his view.

Sven blinked then followed the hand, up the arm and to Wren’s tired but still smiling face. “Go on.” The elf gently urged.

There was hesitation, Sven reached up then paused and looked back up at his friend. Just to make sure he was being serious, there was no change on the older man’s face, he nodded for the little human to continue and Sven beamed up at him. He took the coins and headed over to the beggar, Wren watched as he tossed the coins in the tankard and gave the man a polite bow, he could also see Sven’s lips moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying. If he had to guess, it was a compliment.

While Sven might not have much experience of the outside world and that might be a blessing in disguise, he couldn’t tell when someone was purposely being over dramatic. Or maybe he could and he was just generous to a fault.

Either way, Wren admired that generosity.

The lad scurried back to his friend, still riding high on the dramatic story it seemed. “Thank you for leading me the coin, I shall add it to my dept and pay you in due.”

Wren shook his head and playfully bumped his hand against Sven’s. “You will do no such think. T’was a gift, not a loan.” And Asharae wouldn’t chew him out for handing over a couple of coins that ended up in the pocket of a beggar, she would roll her eyes when she finds out that the coins only got to the beggar through Sven and make a sarcastic comment.

A pink tinge came over the lad’s cheeks, making his freckles stand out more, as he brushed his hand back against the elf’s. Maybe Wren was imagining it but he could have swore he felt Sven’s pinky briefly curl around his own before pulling away just as quick as it happened. “It could not have been an easy gift, you did not appear to believe a word that man said. Like you struggle to accept that the beast in his tale could even exist.”

He noticed that?

Wren thought he was better at disguising his eye rolls or snorts of disbelief than his sister.

“You saw that? I do not mean to be rude or seem that I was mocking our interest. Many a travelling bard make a living on tall tales but it usually falls on the shoulders of ones such as my sister and I to separate the truths from the dramatics.” And boy, did they have their fair share of chasing after false tales! There were so many pages in his journal filled with scratched out paragraphs, notes removed or rewritten because when Wren and Asharae would investigate a bard’s claim that they crossed paths with beast of legend, they would either find a slightly large version of a common monster or it would just be a group of bandits making up stories to scare people and rob them in the panic.

Sven was confused as to why it would fall on Wren’s shoulders to pick out the truth from the lies.

Wren wasn’t a scholar. Yes, he was better spoken that most of the common people but scholars tended to be better dressed. In richer colours compared to the off white tunic, faded breeches and the worn leather of his boots and vest; the only piece of colour that he did wear was also faded and that was his cloak which much have been a rich green at one point but not any more. So then why would the elf have to be able to tell the differences between real stories he might hear in passing from the fake ones?

Then it hit him.

It was so obvious that he should have seen it from the moment he first met the older man, he was an elf! A race of people that weren’t native to Vernworth in the slightest, how could Sven have not seen it already?!

“You truly aren’t native to Vernworth! Are you a traveler? Have you seen many places?” He asked with such childish hope and wonder in his eyes that Wren couldn’t help but smile back. This boy’s naive wonder was a highlight in Wren’s current life, he found himself looking forward to these surprise meetings.

“Tis true. I am not from Vernworth nor Vermund, my sister and I came from over the mountains.” Wren explained. “We have visited many places together and seen even more sights, beasts that could level forests, ruins of ancient cities and many different people. I don’t even know how to begin to describe them.” Or have the solid memories to help, most of these memories were foggy and vague with only his trusted journal to fill in the blanks.

Truth be told, it was one of the things that Wren most look forward to once this Arisen and Sovran business was dealt with, he and Asharae could go back home and Wren could rebuild his life with the help of his family.

But that wide eyed look of wonder and awe on Sven’s face made Wren want to stay a little longer.

“How I envy you? This city is all I know.” The boy said then looked around the city, his excited expression dropped into one of sadness. It reminded Wren of how a bird would flutter around its cage, longing to spread its wings and explore, he could only imagine how depressed Hawke would be if she wasn’t allowed to come and go as she pleased. “I long to learn more of the outside world, but mother won’t allow it. She’s always telling me how dangerous it is beyond the palace walls... but it only makes me question her judgment all the more.”

It was a flawed logic, no one could deny that. “After all, if the world truly is so perilous, what of the lives of our people? They must be fraught with uncertainty, subject to harsh conditions...” Sven trailed off, his hands gripping onto the fabric of his breeches and turning his attention to the people around him. So many innocent lives and if what his mother told him even held the slightest truth, they were all in constant danger and that was the ones that lived inside Vernworth’s walls. It had to be a miracle those who lived outside managed to survive another day.

But looking at them now, they seemed so happy. Almost carefree.

This wasn’t how people who lived in constant peril acted. Sven wanted to say it made no sense but that would be a lie, the answer to this conflict was right in front of him, constantly coddling him. But if any of these people, even one lone soul, faced any kind of danger then why wasn’t anyone doing anything to stop it? “It seems unfair that I alone should be shielded from that reality.”

‘How strange... a noble that is aware of his privilege...’ Wren thought as he watched the lad have a miniature crisis.

And he was at a loss of what to say in return.

The compassionate part of the elf wanted to take Sven in his arms and tell him not to worry, that things weren’t that bad but that would be a lie. Things might not be as dire as what Sven’s mother was trying to make him believe but they were pretty bad and if things didn’t happen fast then they would get worse. Sven was just lucky that his visits into the city hadn’t coincided with a monster attack, just before Wren and Asharae last left the city, they helped fight off a goblin invasion.

People got hurt and if Sven had been involved in their numbers then...

Wren didn’t want to think about that possibility.

He wouldn’t let that happen, not to Sven, not to anyone. That was the entire reason he was still in Vermund, to help these people and eventually get his heart back. If he didn’t care then he would have left the country along with Asharae back when she practically begged him to do so and never looked back.

Instead of embracing the lad like he initially thought to do, Wren slowly reached over and rested his hand over Sven’s, nearly covering it entirely given their size difference. A hitch in his breath and Sven’s pale blue eyes darted from there hands to Wren’s face. It was funny. He spent almost the entire afternoon hanging off the elf’s arm and pulling him around by his hand but he was still so new to physical contact that when Wren was the one to make the first move, Sven wanted to sink into the warm feeling.

Why was it that something so simple could cause Sven’s worries just melt away?

Even if it was just for a few minutes.

It was bliss.

Letting go of his breeches, Sven allowed himself to hold his friend’s hand, he thought about lacing their fingers together but that might have been a bit much. He could convince himself he was content with the minimum amount of skin on skin contact. “Come.” Wren whispered gently. He pushed down the nagging feeling reminding him of how exhausted he was, he could manage another hour, just to make sure that his friend would leave this meeting with a happy smile on his face. “Let’s do aught more enjoyable.”

Sven blinked. “Such as?”

Wren’s hand tightened slightly and he grinned.

-

He knew that they couldn’t do something wild.

Wren simply didn’t have the energy for it.

And even though he was more relaxed around the elf, Sven was still looking over his shoulder all the time. Just to be sure a lone sentinel wasn’t watching them.

They steered clear of the city gates, Wren thought about going to the tavern but that might a bit to crowded for the young human’s preferences. A bit too rowdy of a place for someone like Sven who at times literally got swept away in the crowd when they were just browsing through the market place. And it probably wouldn’t be wise to go there during the hours that captain Brant frequented the space, he might raise questions and Sven might not be comfortable in the presence of the captain of the guard. Would Brant know who he is?

If Sven held the fear that a regular patrolling guard knew his face then the captain would surely know.

That was...

Okay, he had to avoid any place were Brant would be just to protect Sven’s privacy.

So that left the beach shore, that was quite and rarely did a sentinel set foot down there, the upper oxen stable would have been a tranquil place to visit but the stable hands there were still annoyed at Wren and Asharae after Nug nearly destroyed one of the shelter’s support posts when she was first made a warrior. She had been so excited to hold a great sword that she didn’t realize how close to the stable she was and thwack! They were being chased away before the stable hands could call for the sentinels.

They were lucky she hadn’t accidently impaled an oxen or they might have spent the next few nights in gaol.

One day he would take Sven down to the shore, along with Nug, so she could fish and short human could get another step closer to freedom. It wasn’t quite outside the city walls, they were still kept in by they water but it was most likely something the younger had never experienced and he still had to buy Nug a proper fishing rod. But for now, they settled on the market place.

It was less busy than their last visit, they didn’t have to be joint at the hip but neither of them let go of the other’s hand the entire time.

They were able to explore more than the food merchants, they visited sweet makers, fabric sellers and even merchants that sold bits and bobs and other oddities. Sven liked the latter stalls the best, he had so many questions about the smallest thing. The merchant got a little annoyed as the young man would pick up nearly every item, show it to his companion and ask if he knew anything about it. Wren was able to calm down the merchant by promising they would by something and he also answer Sven’s questions as best he could.

Where those real goblin horns? Yes, but they were rather old and worn down.

Was there a big difference between the horns of other goblin species? They could, chopper horns tended to be more stubby while hobgoblins had more horns and could be tougher than stone.

What was worse to fight, a goblin or a saurian? Goblins. Those little bastards loved to ambush people. Saurians, at least the ones north of the mountains, tended to mind their own business.

Could anyone use a spell tome or did you have to be versed in magick? Yes, any could use them but skill and talent did factor into how effective a spell would be.

Sven was showing a special amount of interest in the spell tomes. Everything about them was fascinating, the bright colours of the tomes were just eye catching and they practically ordered passers by to stop and look at them. He wanted to pick one up and look through the pages but from the impatient expression on the merchant’s face, it was best not to. Wren had other ideas though, he picked up three tomes and handed over a fair among of gold to the pleased merchant all while Sven gaped as the transaction. When the tomes were placed in his arms, he couldn’t even stutter out words.

“Ser Wren! I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes, you can.”

Was there any point of arguing?

It wasn’t Wren trying to bring the debt back up, he made it clear earlier so these were really just gifts. Gifts with no strings attached. “Thank you.” Sven whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around the tomes. These weren’t ones he would usually have access to, not just him though, anything magick related was not simply lying on a shelf for anyone to pick up and accidentally cause a tragedy. Spell tomes were locked up where only trained mages and sorcerer guards could access them, the more valuable ones were kept away from even the sentinels.

Those were more trophies and just gathered dust. What a waste.

“I recommend not reading that one,” Wren pointed to the red tome. “-aloud, not unless you have a bucket of water near by.”

“O-Oh! Yes, of course!” He agreed then moved the red tome between the other two, just to make sure that it wouldn’t slip from his grasp and fall to the ground. If simply reading the words out loud was a risk then he didn’t want to be the one to discover if dropping it had its own negative effect.

That wasn’t the end of Wren’s gifts.

They ended up going back to the food stalls and to the woman that Sven accidentally insulted, she wasn’t exactly happy to see him again. The lad instantly apologized again for calling her hard made baked goods ‘common’, he was never going to recover from that embarrassment. Until that moment, he didn’t even consider that calling something ‘common’ would be an insult, it was just how he always heard magistrates, lords and other courtly figured refer to anyone that lived below the noble quarter.

Did they know it was an insult?

They probably didn’t care if they did.

And just like last time, Wren diffused the situation and offered to buy some of the woman’s fine product. That made her smile. Wren and Sven walked away with two packages of honey glazed pastries, one of the packages were for the lad himself and this time he didn’t try to turn them down. If there was one thing he was craving during these trips into the city, it was these pastries.

“Mmmph! I could spend the rest of my life eating naught but these pastries and I would ne’er complain!” Sven moaned out as he stuffed another pastry into his mouth, eyes closed to he could enjoy the taste even more. He wasn’t even bothered by the crumbs and sugar sticking to his lips, he would lick it off later and laugh about it.

He missed how Wren’s face suddenly took a more redish colour at the sound of Sven’s moans. The elf quickly looked away and pretended to fix his hair so he could hide his- his what exactly? Why was he reacting this way? He should be happy that Sven was enjoying himself, that was his goal.

“If you like those, I shall have to make you my own honey cakes when I next know we will meet.” The cakes were still tasty when cooled down but they were at their best when fresh out of the oven and with the honey slowly drizzling down because of the warmth.

Sven’s face lit up, there was a burst of happiness in his eyes. “You also cook for yourself?”

“Of course. To eat at the tavern e’ery night would be very expensive and we have to be able to eat when we are wandering the wilds.” And it was one of Wren’s favourite pass times, it brought him closer to his roots.

This lead to another series of questions, Sven wanting to know how his friend learned to cook, what he could make, did people in different countries and cities eat different kinds of food and if they did, what were they like. This was the euphuism that Wren loved about Sven. He answered the questions as best he could without revealing too much about his own background, he let it slip that he did the majority of the cooking in his home. Asharae could cook but she tended to get experimental and when that happened, whatever she made would suffer the consequences, but there was no denying that she made great meat jerky.

Sven went on to explain he has never even set foot in a kitchen before.

His mother would never allow it.

But he was keen to learn. Wren made a mental note to find an easy recipe that he could teach Sven if they ever found the opportunity, maybe one day he would invite the younger to his and Asharae’s home, they could talk more openly and there would be no need to watch their surroundings.

He let Sven ramble on about the things he desired to do for himself, listening carefully to each word.

It wasn’t just wanting to go shopping for himself, Sven wanted to do things that were basic routine for the average person. He wanted to learn how to cook, how to sew holes in his clothes should they appear, how alchemists were able to make not only potions that could heal sickness and open wounds but how those same skills could make things as harmful as poison. A secret part of Sven would also like to learn how to wield a sword or a bow, if his mother saw him holding a weapon she would have a heart attack.

“Tis ridiculous! Many a noble has learned how to hold a sword or bow or even a spear, according to history tomes it was tradition that they learn as a matter of pride.” Many noble families were founded by former knights, that’s where the tradition started if the tomes were to be believed. “My reasoning is not for pride but necessity! With the dragon’s arrival, should not e’ery able body be ready to fight to protect those who are vulnerable?”

“That is what I believe.” Wren agreed. It’s why he was still in Vermund, to help those that could not help themselves and not just from the dragon.

“My mother does not share that belief. She feels that I will harm myself should I take up arms.” Sven complained with a roll of his eyes, it was the first time that Wren say the boy be open about his frustrations with his mother’s over protectiveness. “I am not made of glass...” Sven continued. “But still she insists that I was not made for battle. I do not expect to be place on the front lines of a war, I just want to...”

They paused in their wandering around, Wren considered taking Sven over to their usual spot at the fountain but sitting might not be the best for the lad. He looked like he needed some comfort so Wren took a step closer, wrapped an arm around the human’s shoulders and gently lead him into a side hug. All while being careful that Sven’s head was no where near his chest, he didn’t want to risk hm noticing that there was a lack of heartbeat, before Wren never dweller on the fact that others might notice his lack of heartbeat. That was until one night when he, Asharae, Nug and their pawns were forced to huddle together around a camp fire for warmth, Asharae made a comment about how she missed being able to hear it.

It scared her because there were some morning where she woke up first and forgot for a moment while still in a sleep heavy haze that her brother was the Arisen and assume the worst.

Wren didn’t want to scare Sven with his lack of heartbeat.

So when Sven let out a pleased hummed and leaned closer to his friend, nuzzling a little into the older man’s shoulder. ‘ He smells so... free. ’ Sven thought, letting his eye slide shut and get lost in the scent of the trees, honey and a slight smokey undertone that clung to Wren’s clothes; it was new. The closest Sven got to any form of nature were the palace garden but those were so clean cut and organized, nothing like the wild landscape of the mountains that he could see from the palace walls.

Sure, he had access to fruits that only grew in the most remote parts of the kingdom and even ones that came from Battahl, Sven often carried a handful of quince in his pocket for when he got peckish but he wanted to see more.

To experience more.

‘It will ne’er happen.’

“But listen to me, waffling on... Ah, I almost forgot.” Shifting the gifts into one arm, Sven reached into his pocket and fished out the coin purse he had been carrying around. He slipped it into the elf’s hand before he could make any argument. “Here. I brought more of the money I owe you. I should have the rest remainder ready by our next meeting.” Though he was second guess the gifts in his arms, wondering that made he should just add it to his debt and not tell the elf until he actually showed up with the final payment but Wren must have seen that idea bubbling up a mile away.

“Now, now, remove that thought from your head.” Wren said, giving a playful poke to Sven’s forehead, making the lad pout. “None of this-” He gestured to the package of honey glazed pastries and tomes. “Is intended to extend your dept, these are gifts to my dear friend.” If he was being honest, Wren would happily let the rest of the dept go so then he and Sven could spend time together without it hanging over their heads. That way Sven wouldn’t have to worry that ever kind gesture or gift wasn’t an effort to keep him in dept any longer. But Asharae refused to let it go, she kept saying it was the principal and it would make the little noble think twice about asking for another loan.

“You are much to kind to me, my friend.” Sven replied, his cheeks turning pink. He would he holding his gifts a bit more tightly if there wasn’t a risk of squishing his pastries.

Now would be a good time to say their ‘goodbyes’, it was getting late in the afternoon and their jaunt around the market square had taken up more time that they realized but Sven found himself reluctant to leave. Unable to not only leave Wren’s company but also the half embrace which he was still leaning into, it was nice, not only having some that would listen to his woes and not judge him but having someone actually touch him. It wasn’t an experience that Sven was familiar with.

He wanted to lean in closer, just for a little bit.

Only to share in the elf’s body heat. It was strange, whenever they did make physical contact, even though it was just holding hands; Sven always felt a slightly colder when they were apart. He tried to shake it off, remind himself that being clingy would be off putting for his friend but if Wren was the one to offer the contact first then who was Sven to turn it away?

“Do you... have a destination in mind for the day?” He questioned, shuffling his feet against the cobblestones, a habit Sven had since childhood that usually when he was feeling anxious but that wasn’t the feeling this time. It was excitement. Anticipation that upon their next meeting Wren would have a new tale to share, though Sven suspected that Wren had more stories than he was letting on.

And Sven wanted to hear all of them.

‘The only plan I had today was to retire to my bedroll.’ The elf thought, he kept his arm around the younger all while slowly rubbing up and down his arm. Wren didn’t mind making his bedroll wait for a little while longer.

But there was one other thing he had to do before going home.

“For today, I am afraid not. Today will be spent on recuperating, restocking our supplies and selling whate’er we salvaged from monsters. And also...” With his arm still around the human, Wren guided him over to the notice board that was still coated in missives. Why was it for every bounty that he and his sister took care of, it felt like ten more took its place? “Finding a bounty for when we next depart Vernworth?”

Then a cold realization hit Sven.

“This... This board contains bounties for monsters? To cull monsters?”

“Cull monsters. Target monsters that may be terrorizing a specific area and bring back proof the beast has been defeated or even clear out a group of bandits from a cave, should it be requested. We have even escorted people and acted as bodyguards.” Asharae hated those contracts the most. Having to follow an obey at people who would criticize how they travel and even how they fight, Nug had to act as a living shield and place herself between the temperamental elf and whoe’er they may be escorting should they open their mouth and make a less than friendly comment about being in the company of two elves and a beastren.

Wren just tuned out their cruel words.

Asharae, though...

Well, there were a number of times he and Nug had to stop her from picking up a fist sized rock and using it as a weapon.

She would be pleased to hear that there were no escort requests on this visit, plenty of culling ones for her to sink her teeth into so that should make her happy. Wren plucked a bounty for a gang of goblins, choppers, a wandering cyclops and a chimera; they haven’t seen one of those in a while. That reminds him, he should write to Glyndwr and see how the other elf was doing with his training, in his last letter Glyndwr sounded very optimistic and felt like their was improvement in his skills, he was eager to show this to his friends. His trial of archery must be close by now.

With the bounties safely pocketed away, Wren looked back down at Sven and his missing heart shattered when he saw the sorrowful expression on his face. Was he- Oh, he shouldn’t have brought him here after their conversation about Sven confessed his concerns for the people that lived outside Vernworth’s walls. Seeing so many bounties for monsters to be killed must have caused him to wonder if maybe there was some truth in his mother’s words.

“Hey, look at me.” Wren whispered.

It took some effort to tear his gaze away from all the bounties

“I know tis disheartening to know that the sentinels are not doing their duties but there are people that do what they cannot.” Or choose not to but Sven didn’t need that on his shoulders. A little lordling he might be but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do personally to light a fire under the lazy soldiers’ arses.

Sven didn’t smile back, he didn’t even look the slightest bit better but there was a glint of determination in his eye. He clearly wasn’t happy with what he was seeing or hearing.

“It should not fall on the shoulders of civilians such as you.” He challenged.

Oh, if only he knew the truth.

Wouldn’t Sven view on his change if he knew that Wren was the Arisen?

It was part of the unwanted job description that taking down monsters of any size did fall on his shoulders and soldiers weren’t above pushing their duties onto him and reminding him that he was ‘the legendary hero chosen by fate’ an army of hobgoblins or family of hungry cyclops shouldn’t be an issue for someone of the Arisen’s caliber. One of these days he wasn’t going to hold Asharae back by the collar of her tunic when they said this to him, being stepped on by a cyclops wouldn’t seem as challenging after she was through giving them a piece of her mind. And maybe the pointy end of her dagger.

With his other arm still around Sven’s shoulders, Wren turned them around and lead him back towards the fountain. Getting him away from the bounty board would be good start in lifting his spirits back to the previous happy level. “I know, tis highly unfair but I prefer to view it in this way. For each bounty I accept, the more of the world I get to see.” Unfortunately his exploration had been limited to east Vermund, he was hoping that their investigation would lead them further west. If anything just to see new places. “That is not such a bad exchange, is it?”

“No, I suppose tis not.”

Sven managed to give him a small but clearly forced smile, Wren couldn’t help but sight at this. He should have known that a couple of words wouldn’t be enough to lift the boy’s spirits, not after seeing all those missives and bounties, this was going to take actually seeing monsters being taken care of and the people being protected to actually change Sven’s mind. That being said, if the situation was reversed, Wren wouldn’t believe a few kind words either, lies were easier to swallow than the truth.

“How I wish I could go with you when you see these places...” The lad whispered. He probably didn’t expect Wren to be able to hear him with how soft his voice was and keeping his head down but Wren had heard him, perks of being an elf, he supposed.

“You could.”

Sven blinked. “P-Pardon?”

“I could take you to Melve. If that is what you truly want.”

He did.

Wren had no idea how much that simple offer meant to Sven but that hope, that new found happiness in the boy’s eyes made Wren’s missing heart soar. This was the feeling that he wanted to see in the little human, happiness and joy.

“Promise me... Promise me that you will take me to Melve?”

“I will take you to Melve one day, I promise.”

‘One day...’ He could pretend. Just for a moment, Sven could pretend that he would actually leave the city. Melve may not be as lively and mysterious compared to Battahl or even that far, it was just a quiet, little mountain village, but to Sven it was still new.

And Wren was willing to take him there.

But in reality, Sven had to return home.

In all the fun, he hadn’t realized how long he had been outside, it was originally meant to be a usual jaunt around the market and ideally browsing the wares while avoiding having merchants call the guards on him. He reluctantly stepped away from Wren’s embrace, instantly missing the warmth the moment he did. “My apologies, friend, but I best be going. I mustn’t let mother find out I left the palace. Thank you for indulging me; I do hope we’ll see each other anon. Till then, fare well.”

“Wait. One more moment, if you will?”

Sven halted but internally debated telling Wren that he really had to go, each moment Sven lingered in the city was another second that someone would notice her was gone. Then a fleet of sentinels would be sent to find him and drag Sven back to his mother. “I really should be on my way.” Sven pushed again, hoping not to disappoint his friend. They were friends, right? It felt like they were friends.

Wren nodded as he fumbled around in the pack he had been carrying. “I know, I am aware your time is precious but if you could just humour me for moment longer, I would... Oh, where is that blasted...” With a frustrated groan, Wren dropped the pack on the ground and began removing items from it. Sven was at a loss for words as he watched the elf mutter under his breath and the items he was revealing. A small collection of books, a bottle of greenish slime, a bunch of arrows that were tied together, a selection of clothes and some items that Sven couldn’t even identify. But with each thing he pulled out, Wren was getting more and more irritated.

So Sven tried to excuse himself again. “Ser, I’m afraid I must-”

“Pray. I swear, I do not mean to waste your time. It is- Ah! Here it is!” The elf announced victoriously as he held what looked like a claw in the air and grinned triumphantly. With some new found vigor and completely forgetting about all the belongings he had scattered over the ground, Wren walked over to Sven and held out the claw. “For you, my dear.” He stated proudly.

For him?

Pushing down the warm feeling in his chest at being called ‘dear’ again, Sven carefully took the claw and turned it over him his hand. It wasn’t like the average claw you would find on a cat or dog, this was huge, bigger than Sven’s hand and curled around like a hook. It must have come from a beast of great size. And Wren was giving it to him? “My friend, I did not ask for this. You needn’t go through the effort to-”

“Tis a gift. Not a request.”

There was a pawn as Wren could see the curiosity on Sven’s face, he was trying to figure out where the claw came from.

“Tis a griffin claw.”

A griffin claw?

As in those majestic, flying beasts that could be seen soaring above Vernworth and occasionally attacking the farms? Wren had gotten close enough to one of those giants to get it’s claw?

Did he steal it?

Did he battle for it?

Did he win?

Oh, Sven had so many questions but no time to ask them. And Wren saw the disappointment on the young man’s face. “I am sorry I had no tales to share with you during this visit. But our next encounter...” The elf reached out and gently cupped Sven’s smaller hands in his, giving the boy an earnest look that made Sven’s heart race. “I swear I will talk your ear off on how that claw came into my possession and whate’er else you desire to hear.”

“I shall hold you to that promise.”

“Take care, my dear.”

“And you as well, my friend.”

He watched as Sven left down his usual route, taking the steps between the Pawn Guild and the inn, he would be safe from there and Wren could finally go home. Great, he felt ready to drop but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed this outing with Sven, the only thing that could have made it better is if he had more energy to match the lad. Stretching his arms above his head, Wren let out a long drawn out yawn that he had been holding in for over an hour, that beggar certainly made it hard to suppress. Hopefully, on their next outing, he and Sven could avoid that-

“Master!”

“Gah!?” Wren let out a startled yelp and jumped backward, only to fall into Nug’s chest.

When did she get here!?

“Nug, I thought I told you- Why are you not at home? And where is Asharae?”

“Ser Asharae is sleeping soundly in the bed, she passed out the moment her head hit the pillow.”

“And you?”

“I wanted to wait for you to come home.” Okay, he couldn’t be mad at that. Wren would have done the exact same thing if he were at home and waiting for his sister or the pawn to come home. “When you failed to return within the time you said you would, I began to worry but I dare not wake Ser Asharae, she was in much need of rest and I did not want her to share in my worries so I waited.”

It was impossible to scold Nug.

She was so honest in her efforts, even her mistakes were born from her wanting to do the right thing.

“My apologies, my dear. I ran into Sven and hadn’t realized how much time had passed.”

Nug giggled, covering her mouth . “Ser Asharae is right, tis always young Sven that leads to you being distracted.”

What was that suppose to mean?

He wasn’t distracted by Sven that much! Sure, he would make the extra time just so he could be around the human that little bit longer but it wasn’t like Wren completely forgot what he was doing when in the young man’s presence... at least not all the time. There were a couple of times but it wasn’t often!

“It does not matter why I was distracted, Sven has returned home and I was just on my way back. Shall we depart before my sister awakes and tears Vernworth apart in search for us?”

“Yes, that would be wise. But...”

“Aught on your mind?”

...

“Master?”

“Yes, dear Nug?”

“You are being watched.”

-

A cold chill of dread shot down Wren’s spine.

But he didn’t react.

He kept a stiff posture and a false smile on his face as he reached out an held Nug’s arm. “What are you referring to?” He quietly asked.

Nug hesitated, her brow furrowed as her eyes darted over the Arisen’s face. She didn’t understand why he was still smiling, this was serious. Asharae reminded her all the time that they had to stay vigilant, especially when they were in the city because there was no way of being able to tell which sentinels were loyal to captain Brant and his cause or if they favoured the Queen Regent’s tyrannical reign of power because it somehow benefited them. And that was just the sentinels, Asharae mentioned that not all spies would were armor or fancy clothing, they would dress as merchants and farms to blend in and trick people into spilling their secrets.

Now Nug had spotted someone who was undoubtably tailing her master.

And Wren was just stood there, smiling.

“M-Master, I do not understand. Tis an urgent matter, you may be in da-”

“Hush.”

Wren moved to stand next to his pawn and linked arms with her, he then lead her for a slow walk. Nug was deeply confused. “Now, take a deep breath.” He began in his usual gentle tone, as though he was explaining social interaction to her like when she mistook someone words and said or did the wrong thing. “Explain what you see but do not attract attention.”

“A man.” Nug answered, keeping her voice low and forcing her graze to stay on Wren despite her instincts screaming at her to not take her eyes off the suspicious man. Taking your eyes from a threat could have deadly consequences but if the Arisen told her to ignore those instincts, then Nug would obey. “He is on the far side of the square and has been watching you since before I approached you.”

“You are sure I am the focus?”

“I am certain, Master.”

Now Wren on adopted a more troubled expression.

He let go of Nug’s arm and placed his hands on hips as his almost looked over his shoulder to catch a glance of the man that was stalking him but stopped himself, he couldn’t give any sign that he was aware of the man’s presence. “He is alone, yes?” Wren asked when he remembered that Asharae was most likely sound asleep in their home, was she safe? What if there were other spies and they were keeping a watch on her while this lone man was following Wren?

Nug gave a subtle nod. “Yes. I see no one else.”

But they couldn’t be certain.

Suddenly, Wren unlinked their arms, took the great sword from Nug’s back and started to walk away, all while focusing on the blade, running his fingers up and down the metal and just... not taking the situation seriously. Nug had no idea what to say, if Asharae was here she would have a all the words for this situation but Nug was completely lost. Why was the Arisen acting this way? Now was not the time to inspect the condition of a great sword, a weapon that Nug put a lot of effort into maintaining and keeping in near perfect shape.

“Nug?” The elf began, handing the sword back and looking much more relaxed.

Nug was still confused but took her weapon. Listening carefully.

“What I am about to say may sound strange but I need you to have faith in me.”

“I trust you implicitly, Master.”

“You make me so proud.”

-

“Where did that elf go?” Bermundo growled, looking up and down the streets but there was no sign of his target. How hard could it to keep take of an elf and a beastren, both of which were taller than the average person?

They couldn’t have gone far.

Maybe they went back to that tiny house they owned, Bermundo should back track and go there. Or they could have gone to the docks, that pawn had a weird fascination wish fishing and would often go down to the docks with the Arisen or his sister when they were in the city. Bermundo might as well check there before returning to his post near their home, he just didn’t like going there.

The steps down to the small beach and docks was so open and exposed, and next to no one but the fishers went down there, it was hard to remain unnoticed and if that is where the elf and beastren went, one of them was bound to spot him. He could only breath a sigh of relief that the female elf wasn’t with them, he was certain that woman had eyes on the back of her head with how she always seemed to know when someone was tailing them. It was only by luck that the male elf shrugged off her claims of being watch as paranoia, if he hadn’t then Bermundo would have been caught long ago.

Jogging down the steps as quickly as he could, Bermundo looked around the small beach and cursed under his breath.

No sentinels were around and no stray fishermen but no elf either! How was this even possible? The man looked dead on his feet the entire time that we was walking around with that boy, how had was he able to slip away so suddenly? Where did that bastard go?!

Wait!

That lanky beastren, there they were! Picking through that pile of drift wood next to the water and if the pawn was there then the Arisen couldn’t be far.

“Nngh!” Bermundo choked out a startled cry as a new weight suddenly landed on his back, some had got the drop on him. He and the figure fell to the ground in a mess of limbs, Bermundo tried to grab at his attacker’s hair or face to cause the smallest opening where he could wriggle out of this situation but the attacker was smart. Keeping their head out of the spy’s reach and keeping Bermundo pinned on the ground. Seeing there was no way out and the sudden arrival of a very sharp great sword entering his vision, Bermundo stopped struggling and looked up at who got the drop on him.

Of course, it was that damn elf!

And the pawn was here too, no longer playing the part of a decoy and was holding that great sword in front of him. Both of them did not look pleased in the slightest, this would not end well unless Bermundo played his cards right.

“My, my, I’m trapped like a rat in a cage. This Arisen’s both shrewd and fleet of foot.” The spy taunted, even with the bow pressed against his throat.

Wren sneered down at him. Funny, the way he curled his lip in disgust was just like his sister.

“Why are you following me?”

Was he being serious? “What, you can’t think of a reason? I’d thought you a keener wit than that.” Bermundo had expected many questions from the Arisen if he was caught but he never expected such a painfully obvious one. Was the man stupid? Well, Bermundo wasn’t exactly in a position to play coy, not with the end of that great sword inches from his head. “Let’s just say there are some who don’t want you wandering around as you please.” He hinted and he felt the elf tense above him.

‘Who? The Queen Regent?’ Wren panicked at the thought.

No, if she knew he was living in Vernworth then she would just arrest him for a false crime and there would be nothing anyone could do to stop her, Brant’s authority was extremely limited and if he tried to free Wren them they would just end up sharing a gaol cell. He didn’t want to think about what Disa would do to Asharae, someone that could actually die to an executioner's axe.

Bermundo’s vague words already pissed off Wren but the idea that his sister could be in danger, he wanted to stab an arrow right through the man’s neck and watch as he choaked to death on his own blood.

He must not have realized that he was pressing the bow down harder on Bermundo’s neck, not until he started spluttering and trying to push against Wren’s shoulders in an effort to get him to ease up. “I-I was to report your comings and goings, you see.” The human coughed out, it was getting harder to breathe. “But I s’pose that job’s over, now you’ve found me out.”

He was found out but still the elf didn’t let him up.

“Nug, go fetch a sentinel.” Wren ordered, not taking his eyes off Bermundo for one second. “Tell them to come to the shore, there is a man that captain Brant would love to talk with.”

“But, Master, are you sure…?”

“I will be fine. Now, hurry.”

“...Yes, Master.”

Bermundo would have breathed a sigh of relief when the great sword was no longer pointed at his head, he saw the pawn hesitate and glare down at him. Her pupils narrowed into slits and her lip curled up revealing those sharp teeth, she didn’t want to leave but had no choice. “I shall be swift of foot.” She promised then ran off, and now it was just the spy and elf in a dead lock.

Wren just kept glaring down at him, if he were an medusa then Bermundo would have been nothing but a statue under that piercing gaze. This wasn’t the first time that Bermundo had found himself on the recieving end of a glare like that, other times he had been fortunate enough to escape but if he hadn’t then he knew all to well what fate was awaiting him. The elf was going to kill him if he didn’t negotiate his way out this. He spent enough time following the elves to know that the Arisen was the merciful one, he was open to communication and forgiveness, maybe Bermundo could play on that weak- empathy.

“Not the most obedient pawn, is she? Do you allow her to question your command or do all pawns walk o’er you?”

Wren didn’t respond.

Instead he pressed a little harder on Bermundo’s throat. ‘ Fine! The pawn is a topic not to touch! ’ Maybe he should stick with the empathy approach, that seemed like his best option.

“So this is it? The noble Arisen, hero of the people, will cut down an unarmed man?”

Still no response.

And the pressure on Bermundo’s neck didn’t ease up either, it was enough to make the sleazy man cough and gasp but still remain conscious. “Not too late, y’know? You can still let me go an’ we can pretend this ne’er happened, you won’t see my ugly mug again. No need to worry ‘bout my benefactor either, I know just what to say to keep ‘em off your back.”

“You expect me to take your word on that?”

“Better me tellin’ my benefactor lies about your movements than him replacing me with someone more hands on if you catch my drift.”

“No, I don’t ‘catch your drift’. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

The grin that appeared on Bermundo’s lips, the way they pulled back to reveal yellowing teeth and their lecherous intent, it made Wren want to cave his face in with a near by rock. “That boy you we wandering ‘round with, you’re fond of him, aren’t you? I haven’t mentioned your little outings with him or how he cuddles up to you, t’would be a shame if aught were to befall him, eh?”

Bah, ‘cuddling up’ was putting it mildly.

He had been watching Wren for long enough to see that Sven looked at the elf as though he placed the stars in the sky himself, the boy was attached and any idiot could see that the Arisen was just as fond of him in return. If Wren was a smart man then he would let Bermundo go for the sake of his young friend, the spy wasn’t entirely sure who the boy was, clearly a noble, but it wouldn’t be hard to follow him after he and the Arisen parted ways.

But Sven wasn’t the only card that Bermundo had up his sleeve.

“And that pretty sister of yours...” Bermundo began. “Elves are a rarity in these parts. Ending up in that excavation site would be a mercy compared to what some might ‘ave her d- GRK! D-Don’t press so ha-!”

“You stay away from them, do you hear me?” Wren snarled, baring his own teeth at Bermundo and pressing all his weight on his throat. “I don’t care who you work for! Those people at the excavation, the Queen Regent or any other coward too scared to do their own dirty work! Come near my family or friends again and I will cut your foul tongue out!”

Bermundo would have held his hands up in surrender if he could. “Now, now! No need to throw threats, I am merely speaking truths you do not wish to hear!” He tried to reason before the elf could follow through with that threat and remove Bermundo’s tongue. “You may not like it but you know it to be true, you are a target and any who associate with you are vulnerable. I can help you. My lies can keep your pretty sister and that boy safe, you will ne’er see my face again! I can even offer you my recent payment, I promise that will add a hefty weight to your coin purse!”

Protection for his friends, the promise to never return and additional coin; only a fool would turn down an offer like this. Bermundo would keep true to his world, he valued his life more than potential coin, he was going to make a run for it the moment Wren agreed to this deal.

“So how about it, friend? Will you let me go? I’ve no reason to trouble you any further.”

“Have you been eating rotten meat? I may not be at my best but do you really think me so weak willed that I would allow you to walk free and take you at your word that you won’t come near my sister again?” Wren was starting to get offended that the number of people that thought him to be such a push over that he would allow a spy to walk free?

Bermundo sighed as best he could with the weight on his neck.

“Understandable. Still, no harm in asking, was there? Let’s get this over with, then.”

Wren blinked.

What was this man talking abou-

“Urk!”

With no warning, Bermundo’s knee drove into his gut, causing Wren to lurch back and release his bow. Unfortunately, giving Bermundo the chance to break free. He scrambled backwards and kicked the elf in the chest, Wren let out noiseless gasp as all the air was knocked out of his lungs, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to get his breath back. “I did offer you an out!” The spy snapped then tried to get to his feet to make a run for it, if he made it Vermund bridge then he would be long gone, the Arisen would never see him again.

But what his didn’t anticipate was that a pissed off elf was a very fast elf when Wren lunged at his legs, knocking then both back from into the stone filled sand.

Bermundo tried to kick back at Wren, either to stun the Arisen or knock him out, he would be happy with either out come but Wren was persistent. He took each kick with little to know reaction, even as the human’s boots caused his nose to start bleeding heavily and added more to the collection of bruises that his mage pawn spent so long carefully healing just a few hours ago. Asharae was going to have questions when she saw him.

“Let go you, you piece of shit!” The human spat as Wren crawled up his body, in spite of his kicks and punches they were back in their previous position with Wren baring over him but instead of pressing the grip of his bow down on the other man’s neck, the Arisen’s large hands were wrapped around Bermundo’s neck and squeezing with a strength that feel like a snake constricting around his windpipe.

“You stay away from my sister!” Wren shouted, thumping Bermundo’s head against the ground. It it wasn’t for the sand, his vision would be swimming with the daze state.

Thud!

“Stay away from Nug!”

Thud!

“Stay away from Sven!”

Thud!

“Come near them again, no, should I see you again! I’ll make you suffer! I’ll kill you! I’ll cut your fucking head off!”

He could do it. He could do it now.

It would be so ease, all it would take was just to press a little hard and Bermundo would be dead and his loved ones would be safe, Brant’s plan would be protected. There was a rock right there, he could use that to cave in Bermundo’s skull and it would be over.

No one would ever have to know, Wren could just say they had another fight and Bermundo fell into the Brine.

“You, there! Halt!”

Wren jolted out of his dark fantasy.

He leaned back, taking his hands off Bermundo’s throat and turned to the source of the voice. It was a guard running towards them with Nug ahead of him and her great sword in hand, she looked ready to cut off the spy’s head before he could. Bermundo was gasping beneath him, one hand went up to his throat. “Shit... We’re in for it now.”

Wren looked back down at the man, horrified at what he wanted to do just moments ago.

That wasn’t him, was it?

Was this the person he was before the curse?

A violent killer?

No, he couldn’t be. That didn’t feel right in the slightest, he only ever killed in self defense. He wasn’t violent like Asharae, he was the one that stopped her from hurting people, not the other way around.

He got off Bermundo in a hurry and the guard rushed over and tied up the man’s wrists then forced him to his feet, no doubt he was going to Brant. Wren and Nug should go there too and explain their side of the story, Brant will want to know that there was a spy lurking around and they would all have to be on the outlook for more because Bermundo was right. Whoever sent him would send others and the next one might be more willing to use deadly force against Wren and Asharae. “Keep your eye on that one, he is not above using underhanded tactics to escape.” Wren warned.

The guard gave a firm nod. “Much appreciated, Ser, but we are trained to handle-”

Why did he suddenly go quiet?

“S-Ser!” The guard gasped, his eyes wide with horror and looking three shades paler.

Wren frowned.

Why was the guard acting this way?

Then he felt Nug’s large hand on his shoulder, he turned back and to his surprise, she was just as stunned as the guard. “Nug? Speak to me, my dear? What is wrong?” Wren asked, he tried to keep his voice level and calm but so much had happened it was hard to mask his worry.

“Master... your ribs...” The pawn stammered.

His ribs?

Looking down, if he still had it then Wren’s heart would have stopped at the sight of a dagger buried deep into his side. His side was soak with blood and tunic was stain red, when did this happen? Did Bermundo...?

“Ah...” The Arisen breathed, suddenly breathing was proving to be harder. “T-This is quite the predicament, is it not?” He didn’t know if it was the blood loss or he finally reached the limit on his exhaustion because Wren’s vision turned black and his body went limp, the last thing he remembered clearly was Nug calling out for him.

-

“I must... she needs to...”

“-tain Brant insisted!”

“My duty is... -erves to know...”

“I unders... -der strict orders to...”

Wren kept drifting in and out of the conversation, struggling to keep his eyes open. He wasn’t even aware of where he was right now.

He could feel Nug’s arm around him, supporting his body, Wren knew it was her because he could feel her soft fur brushing against his skin. That was her voice too but who was the other one? It sounded like a man. Was it that spy?

No, Nug tackled him on the beach and a sentinel arrested him.

Maybe the sentinel then?

Wren didn’t care anymore, he was just so tired. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

‘I thought the Arisen couldn’t be slain by mortal hand?’ Wren thought as the burning pain of the dagger in his ribs was the only thing keeping him awake, it made him wonder, could an Arisen die of exhaustion?

-

When he came around again, Wren found himself in the guard house.

His vision was blurry and his hearing was muffled but even with these ailments he could make out the deep, commanding voice of captain Brant; if the situation were less serious and there wasn’t a dagger in his ribs then Wren would be melting at the sound of it. Keeping his eyes open was proving to be a colossal task, it would be easier if someone asked him to take on a griffin on his own but he had to stay awake.

What Brant was saying wasn’t clear but Wren could make out the shape of two other guards and another figure, Bermundo, kneeling on the ground between them. Brant was gesturing a lot, he sounded angry. He barked out a final order, the guard saluted him then dragged Bermundo away, probably to the dungeons then Brant turned and approached Wren; he commanding tone changed into one of concern. It didn’t take a genius to know he was asking for the elf’s well being but he wasn’t able to answer beyond a handful of slurred words.

Thankfully, Nug had remained at his side the entire time. Mostly to make sure that he wouldn’t pass out a second time and fall of the chair he was seated on.

Brant wanted to call for a healer.

Wren didn’t let him.

He managed to order the man to stop him for leaving the guard house to find a healer personally, Wren felt guilty for that. It wasn’t like giving orders to the pawns, who needed his command to stay alive. For a moment he feared he would have to order Nug to stop Brant from leaving but it didn’t get that far.

Wren tried to tell Brant that he should have gone with the guards to attend to the spy but Brant refused, instead headed over to a chest and removed a small medical kit, he then pulled a chair over to where the elf was leaning back in his own chair and holding his hand under where the dagger was sticking out to ease the throbbing pain and make it easier to breath. He didn’t think it pierced his lung, the blade was too short to reach that far but the pain was the reason he was taking long deep breaths.

‘The assassination of the Arisen is an impossible feat for mortal hands.’ The elf had to keep repeating Brant’s words in his head just to remind himself that this attack wasn’t going to kill him. Even if the blade had a natural enchantment embedded into it when it was being forged, that still wouldn’t kill him.

Might leave a scar though.

Explaining that to Asharae was going be a challenge.

He was brought out of planning possible excuses when Brant wrapped his hand around the hilt of the dagger, jolting it slightly, and making him wince. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Majesty.” Brant said, remorsefully. “But I am afraid there is no way to remove it without causing you pain.”

Wren took a deep breath through his nose and tensed his jaw. Bracing for what was to come.

“Do what you must.”

Brant nodded and pulled.

The squelching of blood caused Nug to wince while Wren gripped the edge of the near by table so tightly with one hand, it was turning his knuckles white. In all fairness to the captain, he was very careful in removing the dagger, making sure to not make the wound worse than it was and the moment it was pulled free from between Wren’s rip, he immediately covered it with a clean cloth to stop the bleeding. If it wasn’t already covered in blood and dirt stains, there would be no saving the tunic.

Hopefully, Asharae couldn’t identify his blood from monster blood on sight.

He liked this tunic and would like to wear it again.

He had to think about pointless things like this all while Brant helped him remove the leather vest and tunic, clean the wound and stitch it closed. Wren didn’t feel like talking while being stabbed repeatedly with a sewing needle and time was passing slowly, he just focused on the crackling fire in the hearth and Nug anxiously bouncing her leg up and down from wear she was sat. The motion was making the floor boards creak.

“There.” The captain spoke, pleased with his work. “That should keep it from bleeding further but I recommend cleaning it properly when you return to your residence, perchance spread a salve o’er it to prevent the urge to scratch the stitches.” Funny he should say that because that was all the elf wanted to do right now, he hated having stitches.

“You have my thanks, captain.”

Brant nodded and stood up, he took a moment to stare at the blood on his gloved hands. He looked haunted. Thinking back on the last time he had the Arisen’s blood on his hands, it had been back when Wren and Asharae were first brought to Vernworth and the older elf was still in an incredibly fragile condition with his burns. It had been their first conversation too.

After two weeks of being barely coherent, Wren was finally able to focus on the people around him and talk. But only just and he wasn’t able to form many words without coughing on spit.

Brant was able to get the message across to the man about what was expected of him from here out.

How he was the Arisen and now the Sovran of their country, Wren took the news better than Asharae had. He didn’t double over with laughter but there was disbelief and even mild denial, Brant was patient with him, he understood it was a lot to take in and during this conversation, Wren broke down in a coughing fit. His body jerked violently with each cough so much that it reopened wounds, Brant shouted for the healers as he tried to hold the elf down and stop any more blood loss.

An Arisen might not be able to die from mortal hands but those burns were caused by the dragon, who was to say that he couldn’t die from them.

Brant didn’t want to find out the answer to that gruesome question.

He could still remember how strong the smell of burnt flesh and blood was despite the healers and servants best efforts to tend to the Arisen, and now with fresh blood on his hands, Brant was brought back to that day. And he hated it.

He hated how he wasn’t able to perform his duties a second time and protect his Sovran.

Each time Wren and Asharae left Vernworth’s walls, Brant was overcome with the same sense of dread. It wasn’t right for him to send their true leader out to handle tasks that were the responsibility of the guard but he had no choice, Disa tied his hands or rather, she tied all the capable guards to Vernworth and everyone outside the walls had to depend on the grace of the Great Will. It wasn’t right.

The captain quickly tugged off her stained gloves, earning a raised eye brow from Wren in the process, then turned to the offending weapon that caused this. “With all likelihood, he is an agent from Battahl.” Branted reported, sounding just as strong as ever. It almost caused a shiver to go up Wren’s spine. “Pray, let us handle the rest. We will hear all he has to say afore the week is out. I bid you wait till then.”

Well, Wren wasn’t exactly in a rush to see the spy again so he was fine with waiting.

But he did have questions.

“How can you tell he is Battahli?”

Brant held out the dagger, there was still some fresh blood on the blade.

“During my youth when I was still a fresh faced recruit, I spent many a day running back and forth to the blacksmith, delivering weapons for sharpening or picking up shipments for the more experienced soldiers. I can spot the difference between Vermundian smithing and Battahli smithing a mile off, this weapon was made in Battahl.” He would stake his entire reputation on that claim and that really bothered Brant, who in Battahl would be interested in keeping record of the Arisen’s comings and goings?

Battahl washed their hands of the Arisen and pawns a long time ago, they believed the Lambent Flame protected them from the dragon’s wrath.

They might have had a point with that, Brant couldn’t remember the last time a Sovran came from Battahl but for all he knew, they could have had an Arisen in recent years and never mentioned it. Battahl was not in a position to hand over any Arisen should they cross the border and Vermund couldn’t send soldiers into the neighbouring country in search of a potential Arisen without sparking a war.

But now Battahl, maybe not the empress herself, but someone with high status in Battahl was sending a spy into their land.

This wasn’t good.

If this reached the Queen Regent’s ears and became a public matter among the court, it could effect the peace treaty both countries had in place when the dragon made itself known. Brant prayed it wouldn’t come to that and this spy was just the only of this kind, who ever hired couldn’t be stupid or arrogant enough to send another when this one wasn’t able to return, right?

“Well...” Wren began while reaching over for his tunic and letting out a pained gasp as he did so. “Isn’t that an interesting turn of events?”

Nug got to her feet and hurried to the elf’s side to help him get redressed so he didn’t burst the stitches. Fastening up his leather vest was a task, he sucked in a pained breath as it pressed against his wound and with each movement he made. “Once again, I appreciate you taking the time to help with my wound. As for how long it shall take to full heal, I would say less than a week.” That was a safe guess, Wren’s injuries healed a lot faster these days and he hoped this benefit of being an Arisen would bring the captain some comfort.

And as long as he didn’t push himself, he should be able to hide it from Asharae too.

Speaking of Asharae…

Adjusting his clothes one more time, Wren motioned for Nug to follow him to the door. The pawn nodded, picked up her master’s quiver and bow and followed behind hm. “I must depart, captain. I would greatly appreciate if you do not mention this incident to my sister, should you gather any additional information from that man, have Hawke send me a missive.” It was a risk having Hawke be the one to deliver a letter containing sensitive information, she was Wren’s bird first and for most. He was the one that trained her and when travelling together, she would approach Wren first but if the siblings were split up for any reason and she couldn’t find the male elf, she would go to Asharae with no hesitation.

It would spark her paranoia.

Not that she wasn’t always paranoid.

Brant was stunned at the idea of not involving Asharae in this information.

“Your Majesty, should we not share this information with Ser Asharae?” Brant suggested. “It may not be wise to keep this from her.” The man spent three months working with Asharae, he should know how she tended to react if she thought for a second that information was being kept with her. Keeping secrets from the female elf never ended well.

Wren hovered in the doorway, resting one hand against the frame and slowly tapping his finger against the wood.

He didn’t move other than that.

It made both Nug and Brant worry, so much that the pawn gave Brant a helpless look. Silently pleading with him to do something to snap her master out of his trance. “Your Majesty?” The captain pressed, tone more worried as he began to take a step forward. Wren glanced over his shoulder. “My sister does not need to know of this incident.”

That was not the response either Brant or Nug was expecting.

“But, Master, Ser Asharae is-”

“Asharae has enough on her shoulders. I will not add more to it, this stays between us and whate’er information you are able to extract from the man and I shall be the one to decide if it is important enough to burden my sister with.” Wren repeated in a much firmer tone. Brant’s expression pinched but he didn’t push the matter further, he just saluted the elf and nodded. “As your wish, Your Majesty.”

“Fare well, captain.”

-

Walking was a little harder.

Or rather, with each step, he had to take deeper breaths to push down the throbbing pain.

He considered stopping by the alchemist to buy a salve, he was just so tired. “Nug, pray, wait for a moment.” They were on the edge of the market square and Wren took advantage of the low walls to sit down and compose himself, Nug stood over him and even though he had his head bowed, Wren could see from the way she was shifting her weight from foot to foot. Something was bothering her.

After a few beats of silence, she opened her mouth. “Master, if I may speak openly?”

That was an odd request.

“Of course, Nug. I have told you many a time, you needn’t as for permission to speak your mind.”

“I may for this...”

Wren expected Nug to sit down beside him like she usually did when she wanted to ask either him or Asharae but she remained on the same spot, it made the elf worry. He lifted his head to see how conflicted his pawn really was. Nug didn’t even look him in the eye, she had her head turned to the side and looked like she wanted to be sick. What was wrong with her? “Nug?” Wren tried to push.

“I... I am not comfortable keeping this attempt on your life from Ser Asharae.”

Oh.

That was...

Wren was more than pleased that she trusted him enough to voice these concerns, even if she did feel the need to ask permission first. It was still progress from when they first met and she would ask permission before doing anything. He remained quiet and let her continue.

“I have been watching how you and Ser Asharae interact for a long time now and from my own impression, openness and honest is aught you both hold dear so to see you willingly hold back information from her, it confuses me. I understand your reasoning, Ser Asharae does spend many a night worrying about the future and because of this, I have a request to make.” She shifted his position again, no longer standing slouched and unsure. She straightened her back and held her head high, looking very much like a soldier rather than a pawn. “Would you be so kind as to order me to remain silent on the issue?”

That made him forget about the pain.

Wren was horrified at the request.

It was one thing to order Brant to not tell Asharae, he had free will and if he felt Wren’s life was truly in danger he could break that order in a heartbeat if it meant doing the right thing and Wren would be grateful for it. He didn’t pretend to know everything, he would rather have someone disobey his order and be wrong, that have them obey and someone be killed because Wren thought he knew better.

But giving an order to like to Nug was completely different.

Taking his hand off his side, Wren ran it through his disheveled hair and struggled to find the words to respond. He wanted to ask ‘why’ and to know if he was doing anything else that made his dear pawn uncomfortable. “Nug, I am not comfortable ordering you to remain silent. Have I not made it clear that I prefer it when you speak your mind?”

“But I am not comfortable lying to Ser Asharae!” Nug argued back causing Wren to draw back. He had never heard her raise her voice outside of battle. “Master, I am a pawn. My sole purpose is to follow your rule but you have told me time and time again that should aught be troubling me, I should speak up. This is troubling me.” She held her hands over her chest, over her heart and her eyes were wide. Nug must have realized that she shouted at the Arisen because she tucked her arms back down at her side and tore her gaze away; she felt humiliated for shout at her master. This wasn’t good behaviour for a pawn. “And I am deeply conflicted. As a pawn, I should follow your word without question but I... Pray, I beg of you, order me to ne’er mention this again. Even if Ser Asharae questions me, I will not say a word to her.”

“Nug...” Wren began but closed his mouth. This didn’t sit right with him and he knew that if he ordered Nug to drop the subject, she would. But... “If this is what you truly want...”

“It is.”

He wasn’t happy with this.

“Then as the Arisen, I am ordering you to ne’er mention word of the spy or how they attacked me to my sister. Should she try to question you about it, you will feign ignorance. Is that clear?”

“Perfectly, Arisen.”

Wren felt like shit.

Nug appeared a little more relieved now that she physically couldn’t speak about the matter, Wren could only hope this wouldn’t be a regular discussion between them. There was no doubt in his mind that the spy wouldn’t be the only incident where Wren had to make tough choices on what to share with Asharae and Brant but he never once thought his choice would effect Nug in this way. How much more was she carrying but hadn’t mentioned out of fear it would upset him?

He could order her to tell him.

But he wasn’t going to do that.

Maybe that made Wren a bad person, maybe it made him selfish but he just didn’t know how to handle these things.

All he could do was try and make, what he believed, were good choices not only for him but everyone around him. So why was that getting harder and harder the further they got into this Arisen and Sovran bullshit?

Asharae may have had a point.

The sooner she and Wren were able to return home, they could go back to mundane worries like hunting for food and preparing their village for the harsher seasons. Anyone who willingly wanted to put themselves in a position of power and deal with this kind of shit had to be mad.

He couldn’t wait to go home.