Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“My feet hurt.”

“I did suggest purchasing boots more suitable for scaling o'er mountains.”

“No, what you said was ‘This is the only clear path, it will take us little o’er a week to bypass the mountains’. You said that two weeks ago!” Asharae shouted as her brother slide down a slope and onto flat land. Well, as fall as the land could be considering they were still on a hill side that had a number of rocky outcrops and cliffs but Asharae would happily take it over jagged mountain tops where the high winds made it feel like she was being hit by a High Frigor spell.

“T’was a simple miscalculation.” Wren replied, still with that playful smile on his lips, he motioned for Asharae to follow. “I can not predict the weather, dear sister. How was I to know we would be snowed in a cave for three days?”

Oh, that damned cave.

Two days waiting for the sudden snow storm to pass and a third day just waiting for the chest high snow to melt enough so they could climb their way out and make up for lost time.
Speaking of lost, that is exactly what they were right now!

That snow storm hadn’t just delayed them but it hid a lot of the trail markers on the mountain that were placed there to help travelers like Wren and Asharae who would rather risk the quicker but not as safe mountain trail over the safer but far longer cave paths.

“Next time you decide to go in search of an isolated kingdom...” Asharae started then slide down the slope, Wren catching her as she reached the bottom and steadying her back to her feet. “Be a good big brother and remind me to slap you until you realise this was a terrible idea!”

“Excuse me? This was your idea!” Wren argued. He would not be blamed for something he could not control. He distinctly remembered as the convincing arguments that Asharae made in coming to this land, even if it meant scaling over a mountain that had no notable trade route for merchants that might have oxen carts besides an extremely over grown path that was plagued with far too many snow harpies. “I explicitly remember you making multiple arguments that we should travel here! A land the Dragon has favoured, where else to continue our research into the beast? Let us go to Vermund! There will be tomes a plenty!” He acted in a very exaggerated version of his sister’s voice just to get his point across.
Asharae was not impressed.

“If we are truly in Vermund.” She retorted then delivered a swift punch to her brother’s arm and started walking further into the trees, no point in standing around here. “The trail markers were in such a poor state of maintenance that were the blizzard hit, all was buried! We may not be any closer to our destination.”
Wren laughed and jogged after her. “Knowing our luck, we climbed the wrong mountain.”

“Or got misdirected in the snow and climbed back the way we came.” Asharae added, letting herself laugh at the crazy idea.

Though his sister’s words did cause a twinge of uncertainty in Wren’s gut.

Truth be told, they had no idea of Vermund’s existence until a handful of weeks ago and it was strange. Kingdoms that had been touched by the dragon’s flames were well documented so to have never heard of the land that the dragon seemed favour for the last two thousand years. It didn’t sit right with Wren but they couldn’t turn down this opportunity. It was only by pure luck that they stumbled across a tome that mentioned Vermund and its draconic history, what the tome contained was limited but was enough to spark Wren and Asharae’s interest so they began looking for any travelling merchant or ships that came from this almost forgotten land.

This is when it got strange.

Anyone Wren and Asharae spoke to about Vermund would respond with confusion, even the most note worthy historians, had no idea what the elven siblings were talking about. Most assumed it was possibly a land of elves or maybe it was from a story, there were plenty of tall tales about false kingdoms that dragon visited, mostly to spread fear about a beast no one had seen in over two thousand years.

Asharae was reaching the point where she thought Vermund might just be a story but Wren held remained hopeful.

Then they caught a break.

The siblings had learned one very important lesson on their journey. If you wanted to find lost information, search in ruins and that’s where they found a very old and possibly outdated map of Vermund. It was real!
And if it was real then that meant Asharae and Wren could take their studies there.

What dampened Wren’s eagerness was seeing that Vermund was an ocean side kingdom. An ocean side kingdom that no ships or even boats traveling to it. That alone made Wren want to throw this plan out before they even began buying supplies for the journey but it was Asharae that changed his mind, Wren might say it was her convincing him but it was really Asharae wanting to support Wren in his desire to research the dragon, the Arisen, pawns and the bond they all shared. Sure, Asharae was interested in those things too but they were Wren’s passion and Asharae wanted to support him. Plus she would be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in learning the reason why the dragon came here repeatedly and why the kingdom was near enough forgotten to everyone north of the mountain.

But the trek over the mountain had quickly taken that support from his sister and Wren could see it clear as day. Before she would walk proudly in front of him, always watching for danger and ready to protect her older brother but the further they climbed and with flock after flock of snow harpies trying to swoop down and throw them off the nearest cliff, it beat down anyone’s will to keep going. It took it’s toll on Wren as well but he had to stay optimistic for Asharae.

And now that they were out of the freezing heights and away from those snow harpies, Wren could genuinely smile and how could he not? Even the beginnings of this forest were easing any tension in the older elf’s body, the smell of the trees, the sunlight beaming through the leaves and the sound of birds around them, it was almost like being back in their home village. They were going to have so many stories to tell when they finally go back...

“What if we find naught but ruins?” Asharae suddenly asked.

Wren was brought back from his through and gave his full attention to his dear sister. She looked tired. “Then we make due, just as we always have.” He replied softly, wrapping his arm around Asharae and pulling her into a half hug. The tension slowly left Asharae’s body and she leaned against her brother’s shoulder, she even allowed herself to smile at him. “But just to be certain we did not spend three days almost freezing to death, how about we make sure we are not the only two people on this side of the mountain?”

Now that didn’t sound like a bad idea.

Asharae stepped away so Wren could shrug off his pack. He opens the flap and a fluffed up mess of a falcon lifted its head and stared up at the elf, looking annoyed to have been woken up. The dark haired man couldn’t help but chuckle so he reached down and scratched under the bird’s beak. “I do not believe Hawke approves of being so rudely woken up.” Asharae pointed out, Wren didn’t take his eyes off the falcon.
“Perchance but once she sees she can finally fly, I am sure I will be forgiven.”

“I wouldn’t forgive you for waking me up.”

“A cyclops could come crashing through an inn wall and you still wouldn’t wake up, dear sister.”

Hawke couldn’t be less interested in the sibling banter, she was more focused on her masters mentioning ‘flight’ and seeing that they were back in a forest. She let out an excited screech. The elven sibling looked back down at Hawke and remembered they actually had a plan. “Ah, yes, forgive me, my dear.” Wren apologised. “We are in need of your aid. We believe we are rather... let’s say, misdirected.”

Both Asharae and Hawke gave him a look like he was telling them the sky was blue.

Wren huffed and frowned at his sister. “Very well, we are lost.” He admitted. “Could you aid us and see if there is any sign of a city or perchance a village? I will be more than willing to repay your hard work with the finest cuts of deer.”

The corners of his sister’s mouth pulled down into a slight frown at the word ‘city’.

But Hawke perked up at the promise of a cut of deer meat and Wren grinned in return.

“Many thanks, my wonderful girl! Pray, stay safe and fly swift!” The falcon flutters her wings as she climbs out of Wren’s pack, another shake and fluff of her feather then Hawke took off into the air. Once out of sight of the siblings, the only sign that Hawke was still within ear shot of them was her occasional screech. She was a loyal and smart bird, all it would take to call Hawke back would be a simple whistle or call of her name and she would return to their side.

There was a moment of silent before Asharae turned to her brother and asked. “What do we do now?”

Wren swung his pack over his shoulder and started walking, no point in standing here twiddling their thumbs, They could also look for signs of life but on a ground level. “Hmmm, we could talk to fill the silence? Oh, I have yet to tell you what the heroine of the latest tome I am reading did! To save her lover, she-”

“No! No, I cannot take one more word of that poorly written trash you call romance!” Asharae shouted and chased after her brother. “T’was bad enough having to listen to it when we were in that cave...”
“They are not trash! You merely have poor taste in literature.”

“I have poor taste?! I have spent our entire lives listening to you swoon o’er those wastes of paper and ink, had I used them as kindling I could have spared myself who knows how many migraines.”
“Wha- Excuse me?! Have you no romance in your heart? You take that back or I will be force to-”

Above them, their argument could be heard by Hawke. And if birds could roll their eyes, she would.

-

Their debate over whether Wren’s romance tomes were actually well written or not only stopped when Asharae tackled her brother and tried to reach into his pack to take the tome and throw it into the nearest body of water.

The only thing that saved Wren’s beloved book was him being bigger than his sister and managing to over power her. Asharae only gave in when Wren swore he would drop the subject, he wouldn’t mention the plot, the characters or start rambling about how the main characters deserve to be together despite the odds.

He pouted but agreed to those terms.

Only because he knew the young woman would follow through on using his book as kindling if she didn’t.

So they brushed the grass and dirt off themselves and continued on their path, hoping they would find an actual path and their prays were quickly answered. Hawke’s screech rang out above them as the bird came into view and began flying back and forth to signal the direction of a potential settlement. The siblings shared an excited grin then broke into a run to keep up with Hawke. They stumbled and tripped over rocks and the occasional fallen tree but the siblings broke through the tree line and slide to a stop because of the sun shining in their eyes.

So that was what Hawke was bringing them to.

A moderately sized village with what looked to be a watch tower with a massive ballista placed on top of it. It looked scenic, peaceful even. An idea place for the brother and sister to resupply and get their bearings. “Gods, how many beasts has that shot down?” Wren wondered as he started walking again but the lack of response from Asharae made him stop. “Sister? Aren’t you-”

She looked uncomfortable.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot and rubbing her hands together all while not looking at the village. Wren frowned and took a slow step close, he reached out and gently touched her hands. They were shaking. “Are you okay?” He asked, his tone soft. Asharae didn’t answer.

“You do not have to go there, I can go alone and get what we need.” Wren offered, he was perfectly comfortable walking into what he suspected what probably a human built village. “Or we can by pass this place entirely. Look at this forest, I bet we can find an ample amount of fruit and mayhaps a boar or two” They were no strangers to living off the land, they were raised in living off the land and now that they knew there this village existed then others had to as well. Maybe there was somewhere smaller.

Asharae took a closed her eyes and took a few slow, deep breaths. “No. I can manage.” She promised with an affirmative nod. “We will restock our supplies and get a lay of the land. Then we can plan our next move.”

“Then we come back out here and set up camp.”

Those words made Asharae visibly relax, she smiled and nodded at her brother. She could do this, if she could face down a slobbering ogre then she could handle walking into a small mountain village to ask for directions and trade for supplies.

-

“A rather cozy place… if you overlook the walls.” Wren commented.

They had visited large cities and the smallest backwater villages, each had their charm but this place appeared to be rather isolated. Wren saw no farms or livestock, with the exception of a couple of chickens that were running around the streets and being chased by children, it was a good thing Wren had Hawke return to the coziness of his pack other wise she would have plucked up one of those chickens and made a feast of it. But how did these people support themselves? Did they have regular merchant visits or were there oxen carts that came here delivering goods?

It was a good sign in Wren’s opinion, it meant there were more people in this kingdom.

“Tis livable.” Asharae replied, also viewing their surroundings but she wasn’t admiring the homey sights. She was watching for any judgmental looks or hushed whispers, she was always vigilant. The only thing that brought her out of her search for any threat was feeling her brother hold her hand. “Do not fret, dear sister...” Wren whispered. “No one wants to harm us, we are safe.”

She opened her mouth to respond but a sweet voice called out to them first.

“Hoy! You two!” A young brown haired woman called, waving at them. Wren and Asharae even looked behind them just to make sure she wasn’t talking to someone else. “Yes, you two! Are you lost?” She asked as she advanced on them, the closer she got and the better the elven siblings could take in her appearance. Young in the face, perhaps closer to Asharae’s age than Wren’s but pretty none the less. Her clothes didn’t look like they belonged to a labourer so she had to have some gold to her name, maybe a hunter going by the bow on her back and the quiver of arrows in her arms.

“Pray, forgive me for approaching you both so suddenly but you both seemed distracted. Perchance I can offer you both some assistance?” The woman offered, Asharae was stunned by the forwardness and so was Wren but he was slightly better at handling social interactions. “My name is Ulrika, I am the leader of Melve. We may not be as grand as Vernworth but we have our own humble charm.”

“Vernworth?”

Ulrika looked confused. “You are not familiar with the capital city?”

Was it that obvious that they were lost?

Well, this woman has been kind so far, maybe she could aid them.

“Ah, allow me to explain our situation. My sister and I do not hail from this land, we came from over the mountains-” Wren began to explain but Ulrika’s surprised gasp cut him off, what did he say?

“The mountains? You came from the north?”

Looks like they really were the first to cross the mountains in at least two thousand years.

Ulrika’s face then lit up with realization. “If you hail from the north then that is why you bare such different feature to the elves native to this lands.” She exclaimed but Wren and Asharae were even more confused, for a brief moment they were relieved to hear they weren’t the only elves here but did they really look that different?

Both Wren and Asharae stood tall and proud, a little taller than most humans they have encountered but Wren had a few inches on his sister. Other than that they could nearly pass for twins with their pale skin, inky black hair and blue eyes with small flecks of violet close to the pupil. The only notable differences between the siblings, besides their heights, was that Wren’s shoulders were much broader despite his narrow waist, his nose was also longer and sharper while Asharae’s had a slight upward turn on the tip. Honestly, if it weren’t for their long, pointed ears, Wren always thought they could pass for humans.

But now he was curious about what the elves of Vermund looked like.

“Forgive my assumption, but if you do that hail from here then Melve must not have been your intended destination. Are you hoping to go to Vernworth?” Ulrika questioned with a slight tilt of her head, clearly she could she how lost the brother and sister were and what kind of leader would she be if she didn’t offer any assistance? She wouldn’t be able to sleep if she allowed the elves to leave with no clue of where they were and where they could go safely.

And the mention of Vernworth again confused them even more. The map that lead them here was so aged that any of the names of cities of villages were faded to the point of being unreadable.
Ulrika gave them a sympathetic smile. “Pray, come with me.” She urged.

She handed off the quiver of bows to one of the hunter and gestured for the elves to follow her. They hesitated at first but Wren took Asharae’s hand and gave it a small squeeze, they were going to be okay, she nodded back at him and they followed after Ulrika. The young woman then lead them to the watch tower, all the way up to the top where they were meet with a breath taking view of the Vermund hills and forests.
Stepping over to the edge, Ulrika pointed into the far distance.

Even with the low clouds obscuring the view slightly, Wren and Asharae could make out the shape of what appeared to be a tower peeking out past the hills. It looked like it was a day or two walk away. “There. One can see the tower of Vernworth palace, on a clear day you can also see the upper part of the city.”

City?

Upper part?

Palace?!

Asharae let out an audible groan and she had to turn away from the sight. A city that was big enough to host an entire palace, she felt sick at the idea of it.

“If you and your sister truly intend on venturing to Vernworth then may I recommend stay the night here to regain your energy? To have travelled the unmarked path of the mountain then go further, I fear you both are in need of a good night’s rest and a hardy meal.” Ulrika spared Asharae a sympathetic glance. The elf was already pale but at the mention of a large city, she turned an unhealthy shade of white. “Especially if you are feeling unwell.”

“We don’t have any gold from this kingdom.” Asharae quickly cut in before Wren could even open his mouth.

Ulrika hummed. “Tis quite the predicament but… perchance we could come to an agreement.”

“An agreement?”

“I couldn’t help but notice your weapons.” She said, nodding to bow and quiver strapped on Wren’s back and the daggers on Asharae’s hips. “Under normal circumstances, I would handle this myself but I have much on my hands so if you both were willing to bring back… shall we say, four or five deer for their meat? I would be more than happy to pay out of my own pocket for you both to to stay at our inn. I shall also pay for a warm meal and a bath.” Wren wanted to agree to that deal, he would be a fool not to. Taking down five deer and bring them back to have their meat stripped in exchange for a roof over their head and free food, it was a more than generous deal but if Asharae was uncomfortable then he couldn’t speak for her, he couldn’t accept on her behalf.

“May I have a moment to speak with my sister?”

Ulrika nodded. “Take your time.” She said then descended the damaged steps into the tower.

When the sound of creaking wood was no longer heard, Wren sat on the platform of the ballista and stared at his sister. With Ulrika gone, Asharae began pacing back and forth, her arms crossed over her chest and brought one hand to her mouth to chew on her nail. He wasn’t going to push her to agree to Ulrika’s offer, he just wanted to see if she was comfortable with it.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“We have ne’er had an issue camping in the forest.”

“That is true.”

They were quiet for a moment.

Asharae stopped her pacing and glanced at her brother, she looked nervous. “Do you want to stay at the inn?”

Wren shrugged. “As long as I am comfortable, you will hear no complaints from me.” With a cheeky smirk played on his lips, Wren leaned back and waved his hand at Asharae’s usually flawless waist length hair. “Though I can hear your poor hair screaming out for a proper bath.” He teased and Asharae forgot her anxiety long enough to look appalled at her brother’s words.

“You- My hair?! Your hair is more limp than whate’er ancient noble is living in that palace, you horrible brother!” She shouted back, pointing back at the palace tower in the distance and Wren let out a loud laugh in response. There was truth in her words, both elves usually took great pride in their hair but there was no denying that they could both use a good wash with proper soaps that wasn’t in a stream. Their clothes needed a good scrub too or maybe replaced in some cases. And now that she was temporarily distracted, Asharae leaned her head back stared up at the clear, blue sky. “I am being unreasonable… we deserve a comfortable bed for at least one night. Very well, tell Ser Ulrika that we will accept her deal.”

‘Your anxiety is not unreasonable, dear sister.’ Wren thought but kept it to himself, he wasn’t going to let Asharae doubt herself. His sister was so brave and he hated to see her beat herself up when it came to not being comfortable in human run settlements but it didn’t escape Wren’s perception that Asharae has been more tense entering this small village than she would usually be. There had to be more going on in her head.

Chapter Text

A sudden whistle, a gargled cry and the deer fell to the ground.

The death was quick and painless.

Wren tried to make each kill, be it deer or even goblin, merciful. Not just because it was the kinder option but if an animal was suffering they would cry out in pain and these cries were for help but more times than not, they would attract something of a more predatory nature. Mercy wasn’t just a kindness in the wilds, it was a survival tactic. And that mercy was needed given how dark it had gotten, he and Asharae had been out here for hours, thank goodness Ulrika offered to keep their packs in her homes so they would be have less to carry.

So returning his bow on its holster and turning the light back up on his lantern, Wren took a step towards the dead deer then suddenly stop and went completely still.

There was a rustle in the bush then a pair of yellow eyes appeared and met the elf’s alert blue ones. ‘A wolf!’ He hadn’t heard it when stalking the deer nor had he seen any signs that there were wolves in the area, but where there was one wolf, three or four more were usually close by waiting to strike. The wolf lifted its head and sniffed the air, Wren took a step back and held his hands up to show he wasn’t holding any weapons and he wasn’t a threat but he was examining the wolf as it advance on the deer.

It looked underweight.

Not starved but certainly hadn’t eaten a good piece of meat in a while.

Then Wren noticed the heavy, swollen teats hanging under it. A mother! It was a mother looking for food to produce more milk!

With a relaxed sigh, Wren lowered his hands and smiled. He didn’t mind loosing his kill to a new mother, there were plenty of deer in these woods, he could catch another even if it took another hour or longer. He had that luxury, the mother wolf didn’t. The longer she was away from her pups, the greater risk of something finding them was. “Go on… that one is yours.” He whispered, the wolf spared him another glance then dragged the carcass back into the darkness of the forest.

“That bleeding heart of yours will get you eaten one day.”

Wren chuckled and turned to see his sister.

She had certainly been busy. One deer thrown over her shoulder and another dragging behind her by its antlers.

“Your hunt has been fruitful.” The dark haired elf commented.

Asharae raised an eyebrow. “Yours clearly has not. Have you caught anything in the past hours?”

Wren gestured to a couple of dead rabbits that were tied to his belt. They weren’t apart of the deal with Ulrika but Wren figured they could sell them for a few gold coins, it wouldn’t be much but it would be a start.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Asharae shook her head and left to continue her hunt. But left no sarcastic comment, it made her brother worry.

He jogged after her and walked by his sister’s side, sending her concerned looks but didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to say because he didn’t know what was bothering Asharae, it couldn’t be her human bias, they weren’t near any. In the past, the second the siblings left any human settlement, the tension would leave Asharae’s body like a flooded river breaking its bank but not this time. She remained closed off and distant.

So Wren only had one choice.

On the other side of his belt, Wren had a small leather bag tied to it. Hardly bigger than a coin purse but containing something he valued more than gold.

“Honey sweet for your thoughts?”

Asharae almost stumbled as she turned back to her brother. The older elf had a patient smile on his face and his hand held out, in his palm was a small number of yellow boiled sweets. Honey sweets! A favourite they both had since childhood, their mother use to make them as a treat and when he was old enough, Wren learned how to make them so he and Asharae could enjoy them during their travels. They were a comfort food but they had also become a way for Wren to reach out to his younger sister and let her know that he was here and he was always going to listen to her woes, no matter how silly she believed her worries to be.

But when Asharae didn’t take one, didn’t even move to consider taking one, Wren’s concern grew.

“Sister?”

“I miss home.” Asharae confessed quietly and Wren felt a wave of sympathy wash over him.

So that was the issue.

He missed home too, they had been travelling for five long years, leaving their home village the day after Asharae celebrated her eighteenth birthday and look at them now. Asharae was twenty three and while not old by any means, she was no longer the fresh faced teenager that left home with her older brother. Once there was a hopeful glint in her eye but not anymore.

Asharae was skeptical by nature and held a strong dislike of cities. The only thing over powering her paranoia was her mistrust of humans.

Too many times the siblings encountered humans that were cautious of elves because of all the tales of their secluded life style and many secrets, those secrets were quick to turn into speculation then rumors and finally lies and hate. Things like elves kidnapped human children and sacrificed them to tree gods. Stupid and dangerous lies, that’s what they were but humans believed them and many weren’t shy about hiding their prejudices. Wren didn’t let the dirty looks and harsh words get to him, most of the time he could shrug it off, but Asharae couldn’t. She carried each bad encounter like an ugly scar.

Yes, his sister was harsh but Asharae was not heartless.

She loved her brother and she loved her village, including the residents there. Asharae would never turn her back on someone who needed aid, she just wouldn’t blindly offer to help unlikely her overly helpful bother. Hence why they were out here hunting for Melve.

“Come here...” Wren said softly.

He took the deer carcass from Asharae, let it fall to the ground and then pulled her into a tight hug. Asharae’s breath stuttered but her arms wrapped around her brother and gripped the back of his cloak, resting her head on his shoulder while Wren petting her knotted hair. When they got back to the inn and were settled for the night, he would take the time to brush out these knots and tangles so his sister could have a some self confidence back.

“I miss home too.” Wren whispered in return. “When our business here concludes, we are going back.”

And that was a promise.

As much as Wren had enjoyed seeing all these sights, learning about the history behind the dragon and the Arisen as well as all the people they met along the way, he missed home so much more. He wanted to see their mother again, their younger siblings and their childhood friends and see how their lives have changed. So this was it, Vernworth would be their final adventure.

Then they were retiring as adventurers.

The tender moment between the brother and sister was cut short when the ground beneath them began to quake and the trees sway, some branches falling from the shake, the siblings quickly jumped away from each other and looked around, searching for what caused that. Ogres were not large enough to shake the ground the stink that came off them would have signaled their arrival before your even heard them. Even cyclops couldn’t make the trees shake by stomping around like the brutes they were.

“The village?” Asharae asked, something had to have happened at Melve.

So with no more words exchanged, and the deer they hunted forgotten on the ground, Wren and Asharae broke into a sprint and headed back towards Melve.

-

Much like their arrival to the village’s edge, Wren and Asharae broke out of the tree line to see an ominous red glow and the strong smell of burning wood.

“Is that... smoke?”

No, not just smoke.

There was fire.

Flames were visible over the walls and roofs of Melve, producing so much smoke that it was blacking out the star covered sky. The elven siblings could hear the screams of terrified people them an earth shaking roar. “Could it be a drake?” Asharae wondered as she nearly dropped her daggers that the sight, she prayed to whatever god was looking down on them that it wasn’t something as unstoppable as a drake. If it was then what hope did this little village have against something only the Arisen, one chosen by fate, could slay?

“We have to help!” Wren decided. If it was a drake or even if it wasn’t, they couldn’t leave those people to die. They could help Melve evacuate until the beast was either forced to retreat or decided to leave on it’s own.

“Wren, we can’t-”

“We can’t leave innocent people to die!” Wren argued.

-

It was a nightmare.

A living nightmare.

Tailing behind a troupe of guards, the elven siblings run into Melve, being careful not to collide with anyone that was going to opposite way in an attempt to escape. They were prepared, they were ready to face whatever was burning the village but the second they saw the massive black shape rise from the edge of the cliff, it’s long neck glowing with fire and it’s other worldly yellow eyes.

The sight filled the siblings with dread and immeasurable fear.

“Gods...” Wren breathed in disbelief.

It was no drake laying siege to the village.

But the Dragon.

The bringer of death and destruction, with wings that could black out the sun and flames that would render even that most grand and noble cities to naught but scorched earth.

But still the guards charged it. The dragon opened it’s maw and released a sea of flames, screams of agony and bodies dropping like flies, what could anyone do to force back this living god?

‘Naught... There is naught we can...’ Wren realized then looked at Asharae, there was no fight to be had here. The village was as good as gone, the only hope for Melve was to get as many people as possible out. “Sister, go! Help whoe’er you can!” Wren ordered. Asharae hesitated but nodded and took advantage of the suicidal guards as a distraction to get past the worst of the disaster, she waved, grabbed and pushed anyone she could towards the bridge leading towards the forest While Wren dragged anyone of the still breathing fallen soldiers from the flames. Most followed her lead but others were frozen with fear until Ulrika came into frame, she nodded approvingly at Asharae but the guards were falling faster than they could evacuate. The dragon would soon turn its attention to them soon, they needed another distraction.

With her own bow in hand, Ulrika ran into the fire line and loosed an arrow at the dragon’s head.

It bounced off its scales but was enough to get its attention.

With a low rumble, the dragon stared down at Ulrika and began to slowly open its mouth, fresh fire licking between it’s teeth as it readied another breath. It would kill Ulrika, it would kill Asharae.

“No!” Wren roared out.

Kicking off into a desperate sprint, Wren grabbed one of the swords from a fallen soldier and swung it at the dragon’s claws. He knew it was a pointless effort, he knew he could do no damage but he couldn’t let them die. If this was how Wren died, protecting his little sister, protecting these people then he would do that; he would gladly welcome death if they could live to see another day.

Going for another swing, the elf was knocked back by the dragon’s claw and the landed with a loud thud and crack on the ground, something was broken, perhaps a rib but still Wren got back on his feet. Still wielding the sword, from the corner of his eye he could see Ulrika staring at him in awe. Why was she still standing there? She had to go! “Run!” He ordered and then there was agony.

Searing, unimaginable agony.

Wren couldn’t even bring himself to scream out in pain as his body fell to the ground.

Suddenly it was quiet.

He could no longer hear his sister’s scream of horror, the roar of fire burning down the surrounding building or cries of the villagers. But he could hear one voice. A voice he didn’t recognize but it was so deep that it rattled his very being, he couldn’t understand what it was saying though it felt familiar, like an old rhyme. It was speaking to him then there was an erupting pain from his chest.

No, this couldn’t be happening.

Not to him.

“From this moment forth... Thou art Arisen, charge and all.”

Chapter Text

“From this moment forth... Thou art Arisen, charge and all.”

Those words have haunted Asharae for the last four days.

Everytime she closes her eyes she relives seeing the dragon’s claw pierce her brother’s chest and remove his heart.

Even without the dragon’s declaration, Asharae knew what that meant. She grew up hearing tales of the dragon and the Arisen, they left their home to further their knowledge on the subject, her brother was chosen by the bringer of death and destruction.

During the chaos, it didn’t seem like Ulrika or anyone else saw Wren have his heart be removed or if they did, they were not educated in what it meant, because Ulrika had not once commented on Wren being the Arisen. Or maybe she was holding her tongue on the subject out of respect. Still, she ordered Wren’s burnt body to be carried to her home and placed in her very own bed to recover and was taking the time to harvest healing herbs just for Wren.

Asharae had to remember to thank her.

Ulrika was doing all this while leading the recovery of Melve, more survivors were being brought into Ulrika’s home and make shift beds were being set up in the downstairs area to treat the injured and provide shelter to those that lost their home. And they were running out of supplies fast. Asharae knew she couldn’t stand by and watch this suffering, she couldn’t use her brother’s condition as an excuse not to help, Wren would be furious if she didn’t help in any way she could.

So when Ulrika wasn’t directing the aid efforts, she was watching over Wren so Asharae could hunt and scavenge for anything that could feed the people and heal burns.

Asharae even allowed the young leader to use Hawke. Ulrika explained that there was a stronghold just north of Melve but she couldn’t spare any able body to deliver a message requesting aid and reporting the dragon attack, at first she asked if Asharae could deliver it but Asharae instantly denied it. It was one thing to leave the village for a couple of hours to hunt but she would not go that far and leave Wren alone. So she offered Hawke’s help.

Hawke returned the same day with no response.

It made Ulrika worry but she put on a brave face.

She tried to remain hopeful, saying that the commander at the stronghold must have sent word to Vernworth first, the city had more soldiers and resources that could help Melve than the stronghold could ever spare. It would just take longer to get here.

Asharae didn’t like that answer but she held her tongue.

But that is how the past fours days went.

The struggle to rebuild, to help the victims with what little they had. And today Asharae only had two boars to show for her efforts, she would have had a deer but those damn harpies clawed it apart before she could get to it. She dragged them up to the manor house where Ulrika was speaking with Lennart, probably asking if he had any news about incoming aid but her solemn expression lit up ever so slightly when she saw Asharae approach. “Ser Asharae!” Ulrika greeted. “How fared the hunt? Perchance you encountered-”

“My brother.” Asharae interrupted. “Any changes?”

Ulrika shook her head.

“Ser Wren has yet to awaken. He still breathes though... tis a miracle that he survived.” If only there was more she could do to help, the elven man saved her life and Ulrika would be eternally grateful. She prayed each night that he would awaken so she could offer her thanks. “I have been thinking, if we were to- Ser Asharae?”

“The monsters are growing more bold. Don’t allow anyone to leave the village after dark.” The elven woman warned then headed towards the manor home, she needed to see her brother.

-

Making sure to hand off the boars to the inn keep who was handing out food to the survivors, Asharae pushed down the anxious feeling in her gut.

It made her mad at herself that even in this moment of tragedy, she couldn’t over come her mistrust of humans. Another reason to thank Ulrika for isolating Wren from the other victims, though Asharae suspected part of that reason was to avoid upsetting anyone with the sight of Wren’s blackened body. Small mercies, she supposed.

“I’m sorry I left...” Asharae spoke to her unconscious brother.

Wren was laid out on Ulrika’s bed, sheets pulled up to his waist to cover his nudity and what they hadn’t managed to bandage. They had to cut the burnt remains of his clothes off him, Ulrika had provided some light linens but his burns were too raw to even try redressing him. So bringing a basin filled with water to the bedside table, Asharae dipped a towel in and began to wipe some of the dried and fresh blood from Wren’s face. “But I know were it you in my position, you would go above and beyond to help these people. I doubt you would sleep, I would have to catch a living harpy and force it to sing just to make you sleep, wouldn’t I?” She laughed. It was moments like this that Asharae wished she was studied in healing magick, gods knows she tried to learn it before they even left home but Asharae had no skill for it. No, her skills lied in destructive magick. “You would make me release it... then feel guilty when we are forced to kill it. You and your big heart...”

A heart he no longer had.

Her vision began to glaze over, forcing Asharae to rub her eyes to stop the tears from falling. She wouldn’t let herself cry, she had to be strong for Wren.

Perched on the headboard, Hawke shuffled and chirped at Asharae. Feeling the woman’s distress and wanted to comfort her, Hawke had her job too, she was watching over Wren when Asharae wasn’t here. Ulrika mentioned that the falcon had even bitten some people that came into the room and got to close to Wren.

It made Asharae a little proud.

“I-I am fine, Hawke. Just tired.” She lied. “We merely need to wait, Wren will wake up. He is Ar-”

No, she was not going to use that word. If she said it out loud then it was real and Wren’s fate was set. Asharae just had to focus on helping her brother get better, make sure he woke up and got back on his feet and then they would talk about this together. “Our task now is to make sure my brother recovers.” She vowed. That was the first step.

“Ser Asharae?”

Turning around, Asharae saw Ulrika standing at the top of the stairs. She looked concerned, had something happened? Given their recent run of luck, Asharae wouldn’t be surprised if a group of cyclops stomped their way into the village and started eating the survivors.

“Sentinels from Vernworth have arrived, they are looking for Ser Wren.”

Why couldn’t it have been cyclops?

-

This didn’t feel right.

To request one specific man, a man who had never set foot in Vernworth before in his life, when there were people suffering. It felt wrong.

“Why?” Was all Asharae could ask.

Ulrika shook her head and glanced back down the stairs. “They refused to elaborate. I had hoped they were here to aid the injured but… I had to tell you.” She explained, Asharae could tell that the young woman was feeling let down and even a little betrayed that no one had come to aid her people and Asharae could sympathize with that pain. And it made Asharae angry at how these so called sentinels were able to walk into the destruction of Melve and not feel the need to offer their help. “You have my thanks, Ser Ulrika. Now if you do not mind, I would like to speak with these sentinels myself.” If they thought they were going to take her brother then they were in for a nasty surprise.

“I recommend you leave behind your weapons.” Ulrika suddenly added.

She must have saw how Asharae’s hands were twitching with the urge to unsheave one. “The sentinels of Vernworth have very limited patience for anyone who carried an exposed weapon. They will not hesitate to arrest you if you show the slightest aggression.” Now wouldn’t that just be perfect ending to this shit show? Locking in a cold, damp and possibly rat filled gaol while her brother was taken who knows where. But Ulrika made a good point, Wren would also tell her to calm down and take a deep breath. He’d even offer her a honey sweet.

Ulrika stepped forward and tried to touch the elven woman’s hand. Asharae took a step back in response. “I will stay with Ser Wren.” The human promised. “He will not be alone.”

It wasn’t like they had many options.

So Asharae reluctantly undid her her belt and place it, with her daggers attached, on the chest of drawers and braced herself. Dealing with human guards that wanted to take her brother… it was like the gods wanted Asharae to get into a fight.

-

“One of these days your temper is going to get us arrested, you terrible sister.”

“Well, your selfless actions resulted in your heart being ripped from your chest, you horrible brother.” Asharae argued under her breath as she stomped down the stairs and even kicked the banister at the bottom. “Now whose laughing?”

Asharae would be laughing if the situation wasn’t so serious. Wren would be laughing too.

Oh, this was not going to go well.

But it had too.

All Asharae had to do was think what would her brother do if he was in this situation. He wouldn’t loose his temper, that’s for sure, he would remain calm and try to reason with the sentinels even if they were being unreasonable in return. He wouldn’t draw his weapon, he wouldn’t raise his voice and he wouldn’t set anyone fire… Asharae only did that once and it was an accident, she still learning how to control her magick.

‘Just… don’t set anyone on fire. Even if they deserve it.’ Self control, that was key.

She didn’t go outside when she opened the door, instead Asharae stood in the doorway and denied any access and limited view inside. The injured and sick deserved their privacy too and the last thing they needed was a group of heavily armoured guards marching in and causing a ruckus. “May I ask what your purpose here is?” Asharae asked in her most calm voice. “Surely, you have seen the people of this village are dealing with a recent tragedy.”

One sentinel, possibly the commander of the group, turned towards Asharae and was startled for a moment. Asharae knew that look. It was the look of a human who was not expecting to see an elf in their land, oh, this was not going to be an easy conversation.

“We heard word that a victim of the dragon attack resides here, we are under strict orders to bring them to Vernworth to treat their wounds.” The sentinel explained. Asharae looked less than convinced, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared down the soldier. He said they came from Vernworth, that was the central city of this country and seat of the throne, to have sentinels travel all the way from there to this secluded mountain village in search of one person instead of aiding the innocent people that had lost everything; it played on Asharae’s paranoia to no end.

“There were many who fell victim to the dragon’s attack, more lost their homes and entire lively hoods.” She countered, nodding to the still burning rubble. “What makes one victim different from another?”

“We are not at liberty to discuss that information.”

“Then who do you know the person you are looking for is here?”

The sentinels could see they were at a stalemate, after exchanging uncertain and some frustrated looks, the leader was handed a rolled up piece of parchment and offered it to Asharae. “Under normal circumstance we would not allow a civilian this knowledge. Though I suspect you will not speak to us without some clarity.” She cautiously took, unraveled it and began to read the missive.

‘Ser Lornn,

Your report is greatly appreciated.

While the news of the dragon’s descent brings sorrow on all our hearts, we must focus on the positives. Our Sovran has been found after so long, tis joyus news.

You are under strict orders to find and apprehend the Arisen then bring them to Vernworth as soon as you are able, your details on their wounds were scares at best but I will assume their condition is not good. I will have the finest healers ready and wait for His Majesty’s arrival.

This is a historic moment, the day the people of Vermund have waited for decades. I wish you and your men all the luck in locating our Sovran.

Captain Brant’

Sorvan? His Majesty?

Who told this captain Brant that Wren was the Arisen?

Asharae was ready to demand who told them that when the sentinel spoke again. “Surely you understand now why tis of great importance that we find the Aris-”

“You won’t lay a finger on my brother.” She warned. Her voice low with a slight rumble, Asharae could feel the magick crackling on her hand as the urge to conjure a ball on fire and smash it into the sentinel’s face. Wren wasn’t going to any city.

If they believed they could threaten her with a couple of steel swords, they were in for a painful surprise.

“Y-Your brother?” The sentinel stammered. “If you are the sister of- Then our Sovran is an elf?” They looked more stunned by the fact their so called Sovran was an elf rather than the fact that Asharae had openly threatened them if they tried to take Wren by force. “Yes, he is an elf.” She confirmed. “And you are not-”

“Wait! Pray, hold on a moment, Ser Asharae!”

With a rapid descent down the stairs, Ulrika appeared behind Asharae before the elf could start a fight. “Pray, take a moment and consider what they are offering.” She tried to reason, even from the upper level she could hear the growing disagreement between Asharae and the sentinels. Ulrika knew she had to defuse the situation for everyone’s sake. “I owe your brother my life and I would be more than content to aid you in healing him but we can not do that here. We are lacking greatly in supplies but in Vernworth, Ser Wren can get the aid he needs and captain Brant is a good man. If he issued the order for Ser Wren to be brought to the city then I swear he must have naught but good intentions.” It was a risky move but Ulrika took Asharae’s hand and held it tight, looking into the taller woman’s eyes to try and make her understand. “He will be in good hands, I swear.”

Asharae wanted to say no.

But she couldn’t.

Ulrika made a good point and she had to think of Wren.

“Very well. I will go with my brother to Vernworth.”

And she was not looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

The journey to Vernworth felt as though it was taking forever.

And it was not excitement or anticipation that caused this feeling.

It was fear and anxiety.

Asharae felt like her skin was covered in spiders being in such close proximity to humans and it was only just a handful.

To be fair, the sentinels didn’t try and talk to her. Not after Asharae nearly bit their head off after she caught the sentinel staring at her and her brother.

Carrying Wren into the elegantly built carriage was a challenge. Every bump or jostle caused him to gasp out in agony which was followed by a harsh shout from Asharae to be more careful with him. If this journey ended up with Wren breaking any of his bones then Asharae was going to be breaking some of the sentinels in return, she never thought she would be grateful for the occasional goblin ambush or an over ambitious harpy flock trying to attack the poor oxen that was pulling the carriage. Being able to drive a dagger into the necks of one of those monsters was a welcome form of stress relief.

And it was something she could tell Wren when he was awake.

Would he be proud that his little sister was able to defend herself without him watching her back?

Or would he be disappointed that she was using these monsters to take out her frustrations?

He would be worried, that was a given. Wren always worried about his sister.

But still Asharae kept fighting when they were attacked, she was on the front line with the sentinels and even harvesting some parts like a snapped goblin horn or a harpy feather, maybe if she got enough of those they could make a cape. Asharae remember that she always wanted a harpy feather cape when she was child, she never knew why though, maybe at that point in her life Asharae found them pretty. Now, they were just annoying.

If it were Asharae and Wren walking this path then she would be able to enjoy it more. Wren would be in his element, a new wild land to explore and new beasts and monsters to see. He would love every second.

“Ser Asharae?” One guard called into the carriage. The closer they got to Vernworth, the more time Asharae spent inside the carriage because she wasn’t ready to walk inside a human city. “What?” She called back as she pulled the borrowed blanket from Ulrika up to Wren’s chin to protect him from the chill in the air. “We are approaching Vernworth, captain Brant will meet us at the palace.”

Right, it wasn’t just a city. They would be inside a human palace.

Pushing the curtain to the side, Asharae decided to get at look at Vernworth before actually setting foot there. The sight alone gave her the urge to vomit. Maybe it was the fact Vernworth had been built on an elevated cliff but it looked massive. The sand coloured walls and red roofs probably gave the residents a feeling of pride and safety but those high walls made Asharae think of a gaol cell, being restricted and trapped. Where was the nature? Where was the life? ‘I am doing this for Wren.’ She reminded herself and touched Wren’s hand to find some comfort. ‘I can do this. I can deal with this for you, brother.’

-

It was a good thing that the carriage had curtains, Asharae had to close them all the second they passed the city gates.

The people of Vernworth appeared to be a curious bunch, she could hear them gathering outside and wondering who was in the carriage. If someone tried to get to close to get a peek then the sentinels would order them to stand back, that they were obscuring official royal business and would be detained if they continued their actions. ‘Royal business…’ Asharae rolled her eyes at the thought, what a joke.

It was just another thing she would have to ask this captain Brant about when she finally meets him because, yes, she did remember seeing the Arisen being referred to as ‘his Majesty’. Maybe the people of this land just didn’t understand what the Arisen truly was, wouldn’t that be a laugh if it were true. A laugh and a waste of time that nearly got her brother killed. She just had to focus on getting him better then they could leave, the people of this land didn’t go past the mountains then that is exactly where Wren and Asharae go once he was back on his feet.

Fuck the Arisen

Fuck the dragon.

Fuck this stupid land.

They saw the dragon and that would top anything they could learn from some dusty, old tome. Task complete now they could go home.

Suddenly the carriage came to a halt and jostled her and Wren, Asharae quickly reached out to steady her brother before he could fall over. Then the carriage door swung open. “Ser Asharae! We have arrived. Pray, allow us to carry His Majesty into the palace.” They offered in a loud, nearly obnoxious voice. It made her temporarily overly that they were calling Wren ‘His Majesty’ again, so with a watchful eye and a twitchy hand, Asharae stepped out and allowed the sentinels access to her brother.

That was when she saw the palace.

Large, imposing and decorated with carving of past rulers and its coat of arms hanging above the heavy oak doors. It was so large and unneeded.

How many humans lived here?

Less than twenty if they were nobles and there was no way the servants or royal guards were allowed to live in the main part of palace, that was something Asharae would bet gold on, and now she had to stay here while they handled this Arisen mess. ‘I hate this…’ She thought but followed beside the ones carrying Wren. It only got weirder when more sentinels, ones that were either patrolling or standing guard or even sparring against each other, would stop what they are doing to salute her brother.

“Captain Brant!” One sentinel called out and Asharae’s eyes darted forward.

A tall, broad man walked out of the large doors towards them, his armour was more regal in appearance compare to the others and a sword strapped to his hip. A handsome but stern, it put Asharae on edge, though she could imagine Wren getting a little flustered in the man’s presence; he had a certain weakness for physically imposing men like that. Asharae didn’t understand the appeal. He stopped before the group, looking down at Wren’s form with great concern then quickly motioned for them to bring him inside. “Pray, bring the Sovran inside and to his chambers immediately. The healers and a mage was waiting.” He ordered and the sentinels nodded, they quickened their pace and Asharae tried to follow but the captain grabbed her shoulder to stop her. “I must request you wait here while we tend to His Majesty.”

Asharae roughly shoved his hand away and bared her teeth. “You have no authority over me.” She snarled. “Your Sovran is my brother and I will not leave his side. So I recommend you stand aside willingly or I will use force.”

Brant was speechless at the fight in the elven women. Asharae expected him to either argue back or call for her to be restrained and removed from the palace ground but instead he looked sympathetic. “I was not aware that you were family, forgive my quick judgement, but you must understand that these are very important times.” He carefully explained but realized they couldn’t discuss such a sensitive issue out in the open. “If you would follow me, Your Grace, I will be more than willing to answer any questions you may have. I understand that you must be as overwhelmed as we all are.”

Maybe she responded a bit to harshly. Ulrika had said that captain Brant was a reasonable man and for the sake of her brother, Asharae would sit down and talk with him. That’s what Wren would do. “My apologizes.” She spoke. “It has been an… eventful few days.”

Brant nodded. “I can only imagine. Pray, we will have some tea and a hearty meal made for you and we can talk.”

They never did get that meal at the inn and Asharae’s stomach gurgled at the mention of food.

-

Wren was taken to somewhere that Asharae wasn’t, it made her uncomfortable.

But Brant swore that he was in good hands and once they were finished talking, he would take Asharae to see the older elf straight away.

So here she was, sitting at an overly large table, in a too big dining hall. Much like everything else in Vernworth, Asharae didn’t like it. “Why do humans feel the urge to over compensate when building these places?” She wondered.

“Too make up for their lack of heritage?” Wren would have replied. Asharae snorted at the imagined reason, that sounded accurate, humans always felt the need to build structure that were so large and pointless just to show they were powerful. It was stupid and childish. When they were children, Wren liked to build homes for birds and rodents but he never had the urge to make them overly big just for the sake of showing off and Asharae didn’t have the urge to compete with him to prove she was better. It was more fun to see who could climb the heights on a tree or see who could eat their dinner the fastest without being sick, their mother never liked that particular game.

Resting her arms on the table, Asharae leaned forward and rested her head. “Tis unnecessary.”

The was a creak of the door and rattle of cutlery from behind her, Asharae lifted head and glanced back. Captain Brant returned with two maids, he sat across from the dark haired woman while the maids placed a plate filled with cooked vegetables and cuts of beef in front of her and warm cup of tea. “Pray, enjoy, Your Grace.” They said with a bow then hurried to leave.

Asharae stared down at the food. She was really hungry but she didn’t trust these people.

And Brant noticed her reluctance.

“You have naught to fear, Your Grace. You have my word that you and His Majesty are more than safe.” The elf frowned and met the captain’s eye. “What of my brother?” She asked, Asharae doubted Wren was even awake and if he was, he would demand to see her, just to make sure that she was safe and unharmed.

“The moment the Sovran awakes, he will have a fine meal waiting for him but I did assure you that I would answer your questions to the best of my abilities.”

That he did. And while watching Brant like a cornered wolf would stare down a hunter, Asharae picked up the fork and began to push the food around the plate. Wren would scold her for playing with her food. “You can explain this ‘Sovran’ situation. Why do you refer to my brother in such a way?”

Captain Brant let out a sigh but didn’t sound annoyed or frustrated with Asharae’s misunderstanding. He just sounded as though he was preparing himself for a long explanation. “I understand this shall be a lot to take in, I trust you and His Majesty are not native to Vermund nor Battahl?” He asked and Asharae’s face twist in disdain at him being called ‘His Majesty’ for the umpteenth time, the title was a far cry from their humble origins.

“What makes you believe that?” Asharae countered, still keeping her guard up.

“Your hair.”

“My... hair?” That was not the response she expected. What was wrong with her hair?

Sure, it hadn’t seen a brush in three days and still smelled of smoke and burnt skin but it wasn’t in that bad a state.

“The elves of Vermund are a reclusive people but on occasion a lone one will venture to the city to trade. I have ne’er seen one with hair as dark are yours or His Majesty, the Arborheart elves tend to be very fair of complexion.” So that is what Ulrika meant when she told them that the elves of Vermund also appeared different from the siblings. “And your ears are longer.”

Well, that was a new piece of information and it put a quash on Asharae’s scheme to take her brother from the city when he recovered and hope for some elven solidarity and they would allow them to hide among their people. If the elves of this land had such notable differences, there would be no point in seeking their help. “That does not answer my question.” She countered, Brant nodded in agreement. “I am aware, tis just the history of our kingdom is a long one. You see, Vermund was founded by an Arisen, they built this kingdom and became the first Sovran. Tis our tradition, whene’er the dragon would descend and choose an Arisen, they would be crown the latest in a long line of Sovran.”

Asharae turned pale. “So you are saying...”

“Your brother, His Majesty, is to become our new ruler.”

A silence hung in the air.

Then laughter. Loud, hysterical laughter.

Asharae doubled over and held her stomach as she laughed like a mad woman, her stomach was starting to hurt, it was too much. “Y-You- My brother?! Oh, this is rich! Hahahaha!” She managed out then turn away to wipe away the tears that escaped from her eyes. No wonder no one north of the mountains came here in over two thousand years, this was a land of madness if this is what they believed. The Arisen? A ruler of a kingdom? If Wren were here then he would be laughing too.

But Brant looked less than impressed by Asharae’s display.

“I must ask that you compose yourself.” He requested. “I understand our customs must appear strange to one who is not native to our land but tis the truth. The Arisen has always become the Sovran.”

Taking a few deep breaths, Asharae stood up straight and stared at the captain. She wanted to say that the Arisen was the slayer of the dragon and nothing more but decided against it, not wanting to let Brant know exactly how educated she and Wren were on the subject after all the places they visited. Yes, they learned of some places that believed elevated the Arisen into a position of power after their battle but those tales never ended well, she couldn’t think of a single kingdom that was lead by an Arisen that was still standing.

Well, except Vermund, it seemed.

If Wren was still conscious he would want to investigate that further.

“And you just… replace your current Arisen with my brother?” She asked with a wave of her hand, it seemed so petty. Dropping one leader the moment a new one was chosen.

“For many decades, Vermund has been without a Sovran.”

Asharae raised an eyebrow. “So you have no leader?”

“In times where an Arisen is not on the throne, a consul is chosen from the highest noble families. At this current time, we are- were under the rule of Queen Regent Disa. Her husband was our previous consul and until we heard news of the dragon attack on Melve, t’was believed that her son would be next to take the throne.” This was somehow worse that expecting another Arisen to just step down and let Wren take his place. There was already a current ruler and an heir set up but now they were expected to just step back and let a stranger take their glory, Asharae had travelled around enough to know that nobles hired assassins for things less than this!

And that wasn’t even touching on the tense look Brant was wearing.

He was hiding something and Asharae didn’t like it. But he continued to speak. “Under usual circumstances, the Arisen would meet with our current consul but given His Majesty’s condition. Pray, would you be willing to have an audience with the Queen Regent in your brother’s stead?”

Her? Asharae?

Meet with a human queen?

“I’d be honoured.” She lied. Oh, if Wren could see her now. Playing politics.

-

If there was one thing that Asharae got good at over the years, it was knowing when people were judging her and her brother’s appearance.

Be it because they were elves or just from their clothes, she could tell the difference. And right now Queen Regent Disa was staring at Asharae like the younger woman was little more than a beggar that had somehow wandered in from the lowest parts of this city.

To be fair, Asharae was aware of how she looked.

When they were clean, her clothes were nothing fancy. Just durable lines and flexible leathers to protect her from the elements and whatever monster or animal might have been stupid enough to try and ambush them. But a week after the dragon attack, they were stained with dirt, smelled of ash and had more tears in them than Asharae was sure she could repair. They would have to be replaced along side Wren’s clothes. Not to mention she hadn’t had a proper bath in over a week, the best she managed was a quick wash in the river next to Melve, so she doubts she smelled like a field of sunblooms right now. ‘I should get Wren some sunblooms...’

Compare that to Disa, who Asharae had to admit, was the picture of pure beauty and elegance in her tailor made gown with golden embroidery. Clean skinned, not even a speck of dust on her and her auburn hair was braided to perfection, not a hair was out of place compared to the rat nest that was on Asharae’s head right now. This is what a queen should look like.

“Your Grace.”

Oh, for a moment Asharae thought Brant was referring to her. He brought her to Disa’s offices where the Queen Regent was sat behind a heavy wooden desk, chin held high and hands clasped in front of her as she looked Asharae up and down.

“May I introduce you to the sister of our Arisen, Lady Asharae.” That wasn’t much better than being called ‘Your Grace’ but still, she could handle it. For now.

A practiced smile spread over Disa’s lips as she nodded and gestured for guest to sit in the empty chair opposite her.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Pray, make yourself comfortable.”

How many times had Disa said that line, Asharae wondered, and how many times was it genuine.

“Play along, dear sister. T’would do us no good to make a scene.” Wren would say and Asharae would reluctantly agree. And that’s exactly what she did right now, she reluctantly sat in the chair, back straight and her one false mask of contentment on her face. “The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.” Asharae spoke, her tone empty of emotion. “I cannot thank you or your generous people for the kindness and care they have shown my brother, you must be very proud of your kingdom.” There was the tiniest twitch at the corner of Disa’s mouth.

“I am.” She replied, voice as sweet as sugar. “And I was also deeply upset to hear of what happened to your brother. To face the dragon, tis already a feat of great bravery but then to fall victim to it’s flames, I wish him a swift recovery.”

“It will be swift. My brother is resilient, it would take more than a few burns to take his life.”

“Then let us hope it naught else happens to the Arisen while he is such a vulnerable state.”

Disa may view Asharae as little more than a peasant but Asharae knew a snake when she saw one. And it was sitting in front of her.

Chapter Text

Wren’s progress was coming along well.

And it had only been two weeks since they were brought to Vernworth.

“You look productive.” Asharae commented as she walked into her brother’s temporary chambers and closed the door behind her.

Wren was sat up in bed, wide awake and looking much better than he had a few days ago. Some parts of his skin were still that raw pink and wrinkled but they were healing at a rapid rate, he probably wouldn’t have a scar to show for what happened besides the one on his chest. At least his hair was growing back, Asharae wasn’t sure she could cope with having a bald brother. Just looking at him without breaking down in laughter would be a daily challenge. “Naught much else to do, is there?” He replied, sparing a glance from the worn leather book that he had been scribbling in. Asharae recognized that book.

It was Wren’s journal.

He had it since he was a young boy. It was a collection of all his thoughts, experiences and since they left home it doubled as a record for every monster they encountered. Wren wrote down everything he learned and even added rough sketches, honestly it was a mess of words at times with extra pages slotted between existing ones, Asharae tried to read through it once when seeing what information on monsters her brother had learned over the years but she couldn’t make sense of his ramblings. Still, it was important to Wren and he said they could use it as reference for when they told the tales of their adventures to their friends and family back home. “That old thing has seen better days.” Asharae commented as she placed a small plate of bread rolls and grapes next to the older elf then sat down. “What are you writing anyhow? I doubt a recount of your bed rest will make for an exciting tale.”

“I am writing about the dragon attack.”

Oh.

The scratching of the quill stopped and Wren frowned. “Now, do not give me that look. Tis exactly what we came here for so why not write it down?”

“Because it happened to you.”

Wren nodded and began to unconsciously scratch at his chest, he shouldn’t be doing that but the bandages really itched at times. He was still getting use to not having a heartbeat, there were a few nights were Wren woke up in the middle of the night and panicked because he forgets for a moment what happened at Melve. “I know but that is in past, we have to- Wait.” Wren suddenly looked worried, he stopped the scratching and looked down at his chest. “W-Where is it? Where is my scale?!”

How could he not notice it was gone? It was Wren’s dearest treasure.

A scale stolen from a drake. He wasn’t sure how old it was but it had been in their family for generations, always passed down from parent to the oldest child and so on. So their mother passed it down to Wren on his eighteenth name day and he never took it off, it was precious and now it was missing.

“Wren. Wren! Calm down before you reopen your wounds!” Asharae quickly got up and reached out to carefully take hold of her brother’s wrists, he was getting dangerously close to tearing the bandages in his frantic movements as he tried to search under the sheets and pillows, hoping it may have come off during a restless night’s sleep.

“How do you expect me to remain calm? My scale is missing! What if I lost it during the attack? What if it was stolen? What if-”

“What if your brilliant sister took it during your recovery and out of the kindness of her heart, had the leather cord replaced?”

Reaching into her own tunic, Asharae lifted out the scale that was hanging securely around her neck. The only thing that could match the relief Wren was feeling was the smugness on his sister’s face. “Oh, you wonderful girl! What would I do without you?” Wren praised, reaching out and pulling Asharae into a tight hug, ignoring the aches in his own body because he wanted to show his appreciation. Asharae laughed and returned the hug but was more gentle about it. “You would be knee deep in a pile of chimera shit if it weren’t for me.” She replied, a smug smile on her face.

“Too true, too true.”

The scale was handed over and the journal was placed to the side so Wren could eat. Asharae sat back at the foot of the bed, with her legs stretched out in front of her. “If only the people of this city could see you now, what would they think? Their mighty Sovran getting his breeches in a knot over his little trinket, and they expect you to slay the dragon...” She reached forward and plucked a grape from her brother’s plate. “The kingdom is doomed.”

Wren playfully shoved her leg and Asharae shoved him back. “At least I will have an army at my command.”

“An army that I have personally witnessed struggle against a cyclops.”

“All I am hearing is that they are in need of more training.” The dark hair man countered. “Should I be forced to face the dragon, you cannot deny that having an army of trained sentinels at our side won’t go amiss.”

He had a point there.

Asharae sighed and looked away, it was just her luck that the wall she turned to was decorated with a tapestry over what she guest was a former Arisen slaying the dragon. They were wearing the finest armor as they pierced the dragon’s heart with an equally majestic sword, the sight made Asharae feel sick. There was nothing glorious about trying to battle that beast, to Asharae, being Arisen was nothing more than a death sentence disguised in false glory.

Memories of the attack on Melve were still fresh in her head, the smell of smoke and burning bodies. The screams of horror. The sight of her brother being consumed by flames, sound of his ribs cracking and copper smell of his blood... his body was still burning when she ran over so she couldn’t even touch him without burning herself. She sacrificed her cloak but throwing it over him to suffocate the flames, she told herself it was to minimize the damage but what effect did she have?

The damage was already done.

Asharae quickly stood up from the bed, rushed over to the basin and splashed some water on her face. “I pray it does not come to that.” She whispered.

“As do I, dear sister.”

There was a silence in the air, only being broken by the crackling flames of the hearth but the subject of the dragon did bring a lot of unwanted thoughts in the elven woman’s head. “Honey sweet for your thoughts?” Asharae chuckled, he always knew.

“Your honey sweets were destroyed in Melve.”

“I can make more.” Wren said with a shrug. “Now tell me what is on your mind.”

Asharae tucked her long hair behind her ear, usually one of the perks of being an elf was that your longer ears stopped your hair from falling loose but it was getting too long to do that. She should start braiding it again. She should stopped avoiding the subject. “What you said was a jest, yes? You don’t... intend on staying here and being their ruler, do you?”

Now it was Wren’s turn to laugh. He had to push the plate of food to the side and hold his hand to his stomach. “Pray, do not say aught like that!” He begged through the giggling. “It still hurts to laugh...” Holding back more giggles was proving difficult but it was the thought of him being a king or anything leader related, Wren felt like he was the least qualified man for a leadership role in any situation. Being the oldest of his siblings was hard enough.

He waved for his sister to return to his side, which Asharae did.

“And you call me a ‘fool’.” Careful reaching forward, Wren took Asharae’s hands in his and looked her dead in the eye. “Asharae, do you truly believe I would abandon our family for a chance at power?”

There was a moment of hesitation then she shook her head.

“I made you a promise and as your big brother, I fully intend to keep it. So banish those thoughts from your head.” He was right, Asharae knew he was right. So squeezing Wren’s hands, the younger elf gave him a firm nod, she had been so focused on the ‘what if’s that Asharae had completely forgotten her brother’s promise before everything went to shit. She just needed to do what Wren was doing, find something to take her mind off the paranoia and if Wren could find entertainment in those terrible romantic novels then there had to be a tome containing a decent story or even a history book in the palace library.

That wasn’t a half bad idea.

“You are right, I think I will go to the library. Perchance I can find aught worse than those books you read.” Asharae teased and Wren gasped in false horror. “Those books are works of art!”

“They are a waste of shelf space!”

Wren flopped back into his pillows with all the drama of a stage actress. “By the gods, what did I do to be curse with such a terrible sister who has no heart for romance?”

“For that, you get no books!”

“No! Wait! I didn’t mean it! Asharae, do not take my one joy in life away!”

Letting out a snort, Asharae left her brother’s chambers. Forget Sovran, he should be crowned the drama queen of Vermund.

-

After that talk with Wren, it felt like the weight of the world was lifted off Asharae’s shoulders.

She was tempted to even laugh about how paranoid she was being.

Of course, Wren wasn’t going to stay and be the ruler of Vermund.

He had no ambitions of leadership and if they didn’t intend on staying then the Queen Regent had no reason to resent them, her son or whoever was selected could shoulder the burden of running an entire country. Gods help whoever was stuck with that role, human or not, they had Asharae’s sympathy.

In the mean time, Wren was right, they should use whatever resources Vernworth had to offer while Wren was still believed to be Sovran. They were going to need it if the pair of them were expected to fight that damned dragon.

“And then we go home.” Asharae whispered with a happy smile on her face. The thought alone lifted her spirits.

Crash!

With a dagger in hand, Asharae whipped around to see a smashed vase in a small puddle of water on the floor and flash of red and navy blue darting around the corner. Oh no, they weren’t getting away that easily! Asharae followed after but the figure was swift, always diving behind a corner before Asharae could get a good look at who it was. She follow the figure until she came to base of Vernworth tower, then the rattle of chains and rumble of the wooden cogs turning as the lift rose , taking whoever was spying on her brother out of sight.

“Bastard!” She swore, looking around to see if there was another way to follow the little spy.

Her only option was the very broken spiral steps and there was no way Asharae was going to risk climbing those, they looked so neglected that just setting a foot on them would cause it to collapse. She wasn’t going to risk breaking her neck.

But now she knew for a fact, someone was watching them, no, they were watching Wren while he was vulnerable. It couldn’t have been a servant or sentinel, they would have just greeted Asharae and said they were going to have the smashed vase cleaned and replaced.

So much for finally relaxing...

Chapter Text

Captain Brant had been encouraging Asharae to explore the palace grounds.

To say she was reluctant would be an understatement.

Over these past weeks of Wren’s recovery, it had been a little over a month now since that night, she rarely left his side. Always watching when any of the servants came to the royal chambers to bring her brother his meals or tend to his bandages, watching for the slightest movement that could be viewed as hostile. A servant loitering around for too long, a suspicious looking herb or oddly coloured tonic, Asharae was watching for all of them. She lost count of the number of times that Wren told her to take a deep breath and relax, he promised that he was safe and he trusted these people.

Asharae thought he was an overly trusting fool.

But she also knew that seeing her relax would mean Wren would relax too. So begrudgingly Asharae took to having daily walks around the palace halls and the pristine gardens, it helped easy the tension a little. These gardens couldn’t compare to the untamed charm of the forests but it was small comfort.

Asharae expected to be stuck in this palace for months before her brother would have even been able to sit up or walk, his burns were so severe that she feared he would eventually die from his burns or catch and infection. But no, Wren’s burns were nearly fully healed now, he still had some bandages around his torso, one arm and both his legs but other than that Wren was up and walking around. If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, Asharae wouldn’t believe her brother stood in the path of the dragon’s flames.

She wasn’t going to think about that night right now though.

No, tonight Asharae had other issues to focus on.

Like this gathering in the palace that would official introduce Wren to the upper crust of nobles as their Sovran. It was going to be hell.

Captain Brant sat them down a few days ago and explained that this was not the actual coronation, that would happen later. This event was just to reassure people that Wren was in good health, apparently someone had leaked to the public that Wren’s wounds from the dragon had been devastating and some even believed he would die from his injuries. Asharae had a suspect but she kept her mouth shut. But Brant was open with her and Wren about how troublesome these rumour were, this was not how he wanted the announcement to public to go and to give him credit, he could see how the elven siblings were uncomfortable in their new position. He tried to offer them comfort but his hand had been forced.

So that is why Asharae was dressed in these constricting, with far too many buttons and ties, clothes that only the stupid or nobility would wear.

And she was running late! She wanted to see Wren before his big entrance.

Just to see if he had to wear something as equally garish as she did. Hopefully it was more garish and that way she could laugh at him, everyone was coming to see him, after all. No one wanted to meet the sister of the Sovran.

“Tis a historic day and I would like to show my support for the new Sovran.” An elegant and polite voice said with a touch of eagerness to it.

Asharae halted and turned in the direction of the voice.

They were talking about her brother and that instantly put her on edge.

“You will return to your chambers and stay there until morn.” Ah, Asharae knew that voice. It was the Queen Regent. Leaning around the corner, Asharae saw the woman in question and the back of a young man she couldn’t identify. “This spectacle is no more than that, a spectacle. The true coronation will not take place for months at the earliest and I will not see you engage in false gathering, your time is better spent elsewhere.”

“But, mother-”

“I will speak no more of this. To your chambers!”

The lad’s shoulders sagged with defeat. His brown curls bouncing slightly as he nodded his head and turned to leave, this wasn’t the first time that Asharae had heard the voice of the crest fallen boy. She had never spoken to him nor had she ever gotten a good look at his face, at best she would catch sight of a well dressed young man with a head of mousy brown hair peeking around a corner or a stone pillar before he vanished just as quickly as Asharae would spot him.

And always near the chambers where Wren was being kept.

For a time she believed she was witnessing a ghost on because no one else Asharae interacted with bore a resemblance to one of the mysterious figures that were haunting her brother’s door but now she knew who one of them was. It was the Regentkin, this was Disa’s son that she heard whispers about and even Captain Brant had mentioned him. But they had never met, according to the captain, Disa made it her personal mission to ensure that her precious son didn’t interact with Wren or Asharae... or anyone she didn’t approve of.

The boy attended council meetings only if his mother approved and by the sounds of it, she did not approve of this gathering. A spectacle is what she called it, possibly the only thing Asharae would agree with her on.

She should mention this to Wren.

No, she was just being paranoid. She was imagining it. There was no spy, no ghost, just a nosey little princeling that didn’t know his place. Asharae swore she wouldn’t indulge her paranoi d theories during her brother’s recovery . She had to trust Wren and remember they weren’t planning on staying.

Disa could keep the throne, she just had to wait for them to kill a dragon.

-

“Sister! There you are!”

Shit, Wren actually looked good in the tailored doublet and such.

He looked so regal, like a king.

Asharae hopped down the stone steps and jogged over to her brother who pulled her into a warm embrace, he must be nervous. Wren had always an affection person but this wasn’t a ‘I am so happy to see you’ hug, it was a ‘I have no idea what I am doing and I am terrified’. So like the good sister, Asharae was, she wrapped her arms around her and held him close; rubbing up and down his back to offer some comfort. “Are you nervous?” She question in a hushed tone.

The older elf chuckled. “Am I so obvious?”

“Only to me.”

And that was okay, they could be vulnerable in front of each other. There was no judgement.

Wren pulled away and ran his hand through his hair, it had all grown back and was back in its usual style and soft to the touch. Everything about him was back to the way it was before that night, except they were clean and well fed, the crude ‘Y’ shaped scar over Wren’s left eye was back. Asharae must have been giggling because Wren looked confused. “What? There is a mischievous glint in your eye.” He wondered, it wasn’t like Asharae to start laughing at nothing. She had to be planning something devious. “Are you planning on tripping me when I walk into that hall? Because if you do, I will take you down with me!”

Asharae let out an undignified snort and shoved the older elf’s shoulder.

“I would ne’er be so obvious if I wanted to humiliate you. And you do not need my interference to embarrass you, that ugly scar of yours will do it for me!”

“My-!” Wren gaped. “And just what exactly is that on your lip, dearest sister? An odd looking birthmark?” He demanded and poked the long scar across Asharae’s lips, both scars came from battles in the past but they were always a source of teasing between the brother and sister. Asharae slapped his hand away and stuck her tongue out at Wren. “My scar gives me character. Yours makes you look like a hobgoblin.”

“At least I don’t snore like one.”

“You-”

“Your Majesty!”

The siblings jumped back from each other before they could end up in a hair pulling contest at Brant’s deep voice, Asharae smoothed down her doublet and glanced away while Wren brushed his hair back. “Good evening, captain.” He greeted. “I trust all is going well?”

Brant looked very pleased.

“The evening is going smoothing, Your Majesty. Our guests’ needs are being met and the joy can be felt in the air, I doubt much could ruin the current mood.”

That made Wren and Asharae breath out in relief. If the people were happy, and maybe a little drunk on wine, then left were likely to throw less than favourable comments about them being elves. “That- That is very good to hear. A promising start for what is to come.” Brant nodded then waved his hand for two sentinels to join them, he looked back at the siblings and it was possibly the most hopeful, even happy, that they had seen the man during the short time they knew him. “If it eases your mind, the public will expect no speech from you. I may have stretched the truth and said your voice was still recovering from the smoke you breathed that fateful night.”

Wren’s shoulders visibly slumped with relief. “Thank the gods...” He breathed.

“Now, there is protocol.” Brant continued to explain. “Lady As-”

Asharae cleared her throat.

“My apologizes, Ser Asharae and I shall enter the audience hall before you. I will give the traditional speech and announce you, the sentinels will escort you inside and all you are required to do is sit on the Drakken Throne, I will conclude my speech and we will toast in your honour.” That didn’t sound so bad, as long as Wren didn’t trip and fall flat on his face. “Then you will be free to enjoy the festivities, I am sure many of the nobility will wish to gain your favour.”

“Will the Queen Regent be present?” Wren asked with a curious tilt of the head, he was the only one that hadn’t had a face to face conversation with the Queen Regent. And he knew that things between them were tense, Wren could sympathize with her frustration. Had the roles been reversed and a stranger came from no where, claiming the throne from him and his family, Wren would be angry too but he had hoped that if they sat down and talked openly then the future would be much easier to handle, they needed all the allies they could get.

Asharae, on the other hand, didn’t agree.

Brant’s pleased expression even faltered for a split second at the mention of the Queen Regent.

He cleared his throat then shook his head. “Her Grace sent her regards but she will not be attending. She has other matters to attend too.” Wren looked disappointed at the news as Brant continued speaking. “Now, we must not dally. Ser Asharae, if you would accompany me?” Caught off by the captain offering his arm to her, Asharae hesitated and even looked at her brother for... well, she wasn’t even sure what she expected him to do or say. It wasn’t like Brant was threatening her, if anything he was being very polite. Chivalrous even, something that Wren would swoon about in a romance book but it caught Asharae off guard.

“I...” She stuttered, then swallowed. This wasn’t a big deal.

“My thanks, captain.”

Awkwardly, Asharae looped her arm with Brant’s and allowed him to guide her forward.

-

Captain Brant hadn’t been lying when he said the atmosphere was lively.

People were chatting happily, the musicians were fulling the room with music that was kind to the ears and some were dancing. A bit too stiff for Asharae’s taste, she may not be the most social person around but there was no denying that a drunken celebration at a tavern was always enjoyable. There was a tavern here in Vernworth actually, maybe she and Wren could go once all this Sovran drama was sorted and get properly drunk.

Some of the guests halted their conversations to glance at Asharae as she passed by, her reflexes told her to hold their stares, glare back and challenge them but she didn’t. This was meant to be a happy occasion.

“If I may speak openly.”

Asharae flinched at the sudden conversation then turned to Brant, he was giving her such a patient look.

“I have witness your behaviour around not only the sentinels and servants, but each person you come into contact with. They make you uneasy.” Once at the Drakken Throne, Brant unhooked his arm from the elf’s. “I shant pretend to understand why but I will respect your boundaries and do all in my power to ensure that others respect it too.”

That was...When humans showed kindness and expected nothing in return it always caught Asharae off guard, she had no idea how to respond. And Asharae knew that her behaviour wasn’t the best, there were times that she was rude and aggressive, Wren had told her more times than she could count that she should be kinder to the people around her. But it was hard, it was hard accepting kindness from humans when humans have been nothing but horrible to her and Wren. Maybe Brant was a good place to start.

“I...” She chewed lightly on her lip, eyes down cast. “I appreciate the effort, captain. I will… ah, I owe you an apology, my behaviour when we first met was not the best and you did not deserve that.” A gloved hand appeared in view and Asharae’s hand looked between it and Brant in confusion. “I believe a fresh start is on the books for us.” Brant suggested, a kind smile on his face.

There was a moment of hesitation.

‘Tis a good start.’ Asharae reminded herself. ‘Wren can make friends with such ease… I can do the same.’ With a slightly shaky hand, she took Brant’s hand in hers and shook it. “I would like that, captain.”

“As would I. Now, if you excuse you, I have an announcement to make.” With a polite bow, Brant headed proudly to the front of the Drakken Throne. He stood tall and proud, arms spread out. “Honoured guests, lend me your ears!” His voice boomed in the audience, demanding the attention of all present.

Asharae could see why Brant was the captain, everything about him screamed this was a man who worked hard to get to the position he was in today and he was not going to be brushed aside or ignored.

“Long has our fair Vermund suffered without a true monarch to guide her and her people.” The people stood in quiet awe, they truly value the Arisen. Asharae respected each Arisen in her own way too, it was not every person could face the dragon. But she was still doubtful that every Arisen could be a good leader. “Decades have passed since last His Majesty Erland sat atop the Drakken Throne.”

Brant motioned to the large, golden throne as he paced back and forth in front of it.

“Long have we endured, yet it has not been for naught! At last, the bell has tolled on the age of the consul!”

Had…

Did Brant hold a secret resentment for the Queen Regent?

Thinking back on past conversations, Asharae couldn’t recall the man ever saying anything positive about Disa. He never said anything negative either but there was always a strained look on his face when they spoke of her, Brant would quickly change the subject to asking how Wren’s recovery was going and the excitement the people were feeling about his arrival. If there was tension between Disa and Brant…

No, Asharae wasn’t going to jump to conclusions.

“At last, we may celebrate the coming of our rightful ruler!” Brant stopped his pacing, faced forward and held his hand out to the doors of the audience chamber. “The return of the Sovran!”

The doors were pushed open and the people immediately stood to attention. First, two sentinels marched in, swords held firmly in front of them, and behind them came Wren. Asharae felt a swell of pride in her chest as she watched her big brother stride into the room, ignoring the gasps when they saw that their new Sovran was an elven man. He wasn’t phased in the slightest. He kept his head held high and eyes locked firmly on his sister for moral support, Asharae mirrored his confidence and smiled proudly.

“My word… such an inspiring visage!” Had to be the first time a human said that about an elf.

“Your Majesty shall have my eternal fealty!” One called out.

“Your Majesty! Oh, how long I have awaited this moment!”

Getting closer to the throne, Brant thumped his fist against his own chest in a salute, Wren nodded and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to the man then moved to sit on the throne. This was a lot. But he could handle it, Asharae was here and he could handle this display, it was just one night.

With Wren on the throne, Brant stepped forward to the audience and waved his hand back to Wren. “Before you sits the rightful inheritor of the Drakken Throne, chosen by the dragon as its enemy!”

‘Chosen?’ Wren pondered the word for a moment. ‘That is one way of describing that night...’

“Behold and rejoice! Fortune has delivered our saviour, at last!”

Oh, he hated that word even more.

“At last!” The guests echoed back, all of them taking a cup of wine in hand.

A servant hurried to hand Brant, Asharae and Wren their own drinks. Was he meant to stand up? He should probably stand.

“Praise be, for only the Sovran’s guidance can lead us true!”

“All hail the Sovran!”

“Let all present pledge their allegiance to the Sovran! Let us be united in the hope our leige’s reign will ne’er end!” What a horrible shock they were all in for…

Everyone raised their drinks.

“Long live the Sovran of Vermund!”

Then it felt like Wren had been struck by lightning.

His hollow chest felt like it was going to erupt and the pounding in his head could only be described as to being beating with a war hammer.

“A-Asharae...” A red mist tainted everything in his view as he tried to call out but the world appeared to be frozen in the moment, everyone except Wren. “Asharae! Captain Brant!” He tried again but no response, what was going on? Was he hallucinating? Had his drink been spiked with a herb or tonic?

“Arisen.”

No!

Not that voice!

The fear that coursed through Wren’s being caused him to drop his cup of wine and immediately clutched his chest, his heart should be beating. It should be pounding against his ribs to match the rapid, short breaths he was taking but it wasn’t.

His chest was silent.

“Thou who wouldst slay the dragon.”

“No, I did not choose this!” Wren argued with that over worldly voice. No one in their right mind would choose this path.

“If thou seekest to behold this world in its truest aspect, abandon thy reason.”

Truth? What truth was there to speak of?

This was how the world worked. The dragon would always appear, an Arisen will always be chosen, the two will eventually meet and fight. Regardless the outcome of the battle, the same would happen again and again.

It was just how the world worked.

Wasn’t it?

“Cast aside thine heart and thy life both.”

Wren lifted his head, his brow wrinkled in anger. “My life? You already stole my heart and that is not enough for you?” He screamed into the void. Wren didn’t know if the dragon could hear his words or if he would even reply to the elven man’s words but he would not sit back and be told to surrender everything he was to a fate he never asked for. “My life is my own, you beast! You, nor anyone, shall tell me what to do with it!”

“I ask thee to demonstrate thy will, for naught but thine ambition can alter the course of the rivers of fate.”

And just as quick as it left, the sound and light of the gathering came flooding back. The force caused a throbbing pain in Wren’s head that was like being hit in the head with a cyclops’ club repeatedly and groaned in pain. It hurt so much. Wren’s hands instantly went to his head as he doubled over.

“Wren!”

“Your Majesty!”

Asharae and Brant were immediately at his side as the sentinels surrounded them, blocking the view of the distressed man as the room erupted into a collection of startled gasps and worried whispers. Some of the guests trying to shuffle around to see between the sentinels without getting too close to Wren and possibly end up in the gaol for the night. Asharae wrapped her arms around her brother and held him close, her eyes dart over his form to see what was causing this pain. “Wren? Speak to me! What is happening?!” She begged. What could have caused this? Wren had been perfectly fine besides the occasional ache from being bed ridden but nothing like this happened before.

Then there was a glint from the corner of her eye.

That cup of wine!

White hot rage filled Asharae. With Wren’s head cradled under her chin, she turned back to the captain, her eyes wide with fury. “He must have been poisoned!” She hissed. It had to have been the Queen Regent, that is why she didn’t show her face at the gathering! Because if she had then Asharae would have driven a knife into the older woman’s neck multiple time.

Brant didn’t seem entirely convinced with Asharae’s theory. “Tis impossible! His Majesty’s wine came from the same bottle as ours, were he poisoned then we would be experiencing the same pain!”

“N-Not poison...” Wren weakly groaned out.

“Wren?”

“Your Majesty?”

Even in his sister’s arms, Wren managed to shake his head. “My... My head...” He tried to explain. “V-Voice... The dragon...”

The dragon?

Any rage that Asharae was feeling left her body as quickly as it arrived, she and Brant shared a silent agreement. They had to remove Wren from this situation.

“You two!” Brant pointed at two of the closest sentinels. “Acompany the Sovran to his chambers and the rest of you keep our guests at bay. Honoured guests, I must request that you clear a path for the Sovran!” All it took was a simple order and the guests parted. The sentinels gently hooked their arms under Wren, helped him to his feet and slowly guided him away, Asharae was close on their tail.

-

Brant had managed to calm the crowd and even encourage them to carry on the celebrations, telling them that their Sovran was still recovering from his encounter with the dragon and he was merely over whelmed with emotion at the sight of their support of him.

Asharae had to hand it to him, Brant was good at spinning a tale.

He sent a servant to get an update on Wren and Asharae was relieved to report her brother was unharmed. Just dazed and feeling a little nauseous.

Wren was splashing water on his face from the basin, even going as far as to dunk his face in the water entirely all while Asharae sat on the side of his bed and watched. She wasn’t sure what to say, thinking back on it, his words made no sense. Was he experiencing hallucination? Nightmares had become a common occurrence for both siblings, waking hallucinations wouldn’t be that big a stretch for Wren to be cursed with on top of everything else.

“Are you still in pain?” Asharae questioned. She had some tonics in her chambers if the older elf needed them.

Wren shook his head.

“Do... do you wish to speak of it?”

A beat of silence.

Wren reached over and grabbed a towel. “I heard its voice.” He explained and began drying his face and what part of his hair that got wet.

“Are you certain you weren’t imagining it?”

Pausing in drying his face, Wren lowered the towel and stared down at his distorted reflection in the water. Part of him was hurt that his sister didn’t believe him but if the situation was reversed, Wren wasn’t sure he would want to accept that the dragon was still haunting his sister. “I shall ne’er forget that voice... T’was the same as that night, the same fear...”

“B-But how?”

“I don’t know, Asharae, but I know what I heard. It was in my head! I could feel it!” And it terrified him. If the dragon could invade his mind at any moment then how would Wren ever be safe? And what of Asharae? What if she was at risk just by near him?

The dragon could return at any moment and Asharae’s life could be at risk. What if they went home and the dragon attacked their home village just to force Wren into a battle? How many people would die? How many of his friends and family would he loss because of something he couldn’t control?

‘Except... I can control it.’

Dropping the towel on the table, Wren looked back at Asharae. “Mayhaps what we need is a good night’s rest, tomorrow we can discuss this more openly.” He suggested, and to his credit, Wren did want to talk about this more openly but first Wren had to wrap his head around everything. Asharae didn’t look convinced, she could tell that Wren was hiding something from her and she didn’t understand why, they were always open with each when the situation was serious. But she didn’t push the topic, fearing that if she did then it would only cause her brother more pain. So with great reluctance, Asharae nodded and stood up from the bed. “If that is what you want then we can speak in the morn. Goodnight, brother.” She was ready to leave when Wren grabbed her arm, Asharae didn’t look back at him.

“I am not trying to keep you in the dark, I merely need time to compose my thoughts.” Wren tried to explain but it was hard to explain something he didn’t understand either.

For a moment, he believed Asharae was going to shove his hand away and leave without a word but instead she tenderly touched his hand with her free one. Flicking her long hair back over her shoulder, the look she gave Wren was one of fear. This was not an emotion Wren would usually associate with his brave sister but there it was, her blue eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears and her lips pursed with frustration that was aimed at herself. “I hate that I cannot ease this burden you cursed with.” She confessed.

And Wren immediately pulled her into a firm hug.

This wasn’t right, he was the big brother. He was meant to protect her and here he was causing her pain.

“Just having you at my side makes all of this bearable.” He whispered while petting her hair. “I would be lost without you, my dear sister.”

Asharae’s breath hitched and she held back a sob. Instead just buried her face into Wren’s should and held on tight.

They stood like that for a while.

Asharae holding back her tears while Wren gently rocked her back and forth, occasionally stroking her hair. Asharae was the first to pull away, she sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “Tis been a long night, has it not?” She tried to joke.

Wren smiled and nodded. “It has.” He then leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his sister’s forehead. “And now it is time for bed.”

There were no arguments, just a sluggish nod from the female elf as she turned and left the royal chambers. Wren watched the door for a few moments after his sister left, just to make sure she wouldn’t come back suddenly and when he was certain she wouldn’t, he moved to sit on his bed and stare into the void. Suddenly the scale around his neck felt like it carried the weight of the world and his empty chest had never been more noticeable in the silence.

It pissed Wren off.

“I know not whether you can hear me...” He began, wrapping a large hand around his scale and squeezed so hard that his fist was shaking slightly. There was no escape, no going home or staying here in Vermund. No one was safe as long as that dragon still breathed. “But if you can then I want you to know I will end you, dragon. You wish for a show of my will then you shall get just that when I rip my heart from your chest.”

-

That night there was an sense of unease in Vernworth palace.

The events of the evening were felt from the upper levels of the nobility to the lower servant quarters and even the guardhouse. But somehow most were able to sleep.

Including Wren, only after he consumed nearly an entire bottle of wine on his own.

Maybe that is why he didn’t hear the lock of his chamber door click open.

Chapter Text

“Ser Asharae! You must wake up!”

In the blink of an eye, Asharae’s hand shot under her pillow and pulled out a dagger.

“Halt! I mean you no harm!” Brant exclaimed, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t holding any weapons.

Asharae lowered the dagger and sent the captain a sleep heavy glare. After the drama of the announcement ceremony and Wren’s reluctance to explain exactly what he heard the dragon say to him, Asharae found it nearly impossible to go to sleep. She considered going to the tavern and getting drunk but that would involve talking to people so that was a hard no, then she thought about taking a walk around the battlements but just looking at the northern mountains made her more homesick. So she opted for staying in her chambers and trying to fall sleep, that hadn’t lasted long until Brant showed up unannounced.

“What are you doing here, captain?” She demanded, what in the name of the gods would cause the man to wake her up in the middle of the night?

Then she realized there was one reason that would bring the captain here.

“Is it Wren?”

Brant was quiet.

And Asharae’s heart began to race with panic.

“What happened? Is he sick? Hurt? Let me see him!”

Scrambling to get out of the sheets, Asharae almost fell to the floor but Brant quickly steadied her. She shoved his hands off her. “Tell me what is going on?! No one comes to another’s chambers in the middle of the night for naught!” She demanded.

“I cannot tell you here, Ser Asharae.” The man began and anxiously looked back at the closed door, fearing that anyone could barge in at any moment. “The matter does concern His Majesty but we cannot discuss it here. I beg of you, gather your belonging and go straight to the guard house beside the city gates.” Before Asharae could demand more answers, Brant reached under his cape and produced a familiar travel pack and Wren’s bow, the sight of her brother’s weapon of choice nearly made Asharae’s heart stop.

He would never let anyone take something that meant so much to him.

Taking it in her shaking hands, Asharae stared at the weapon for what felt like an eternity then back at Brant.

Brant reached forward and held her by her shoulders.

“We have very little time. Pray, leave while you can.” He begged. “I will meet you as soon as I am able.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

Asharae made quick work of gathering what little she owned, whistled for Hawke to fly to her and fled the palace as fast as her feet would carry her. It was only once she was in the city streets that she realized how few sentinels were patrolling the hallways and courtyard, that wasn’t normal, and with captain Brant’s suspicious behaviour; she was fearing the worst.

-

Funny enough the gate side guard house was more comfortable than the large, expansive rooms of the palace.

Maybe it was because Asharae could openly glare at sentinels that gave her funny looks unlike at the palace where she had to watch her words and her looks just in case any of the nobility decided to take it out on Wren. It was a welcome distraction as she waited for the captain to come and explain the reason for this sudden the wake up call and practically begging her to leave the palace.

At least Hawke was keeping her company.

“What do you say, Hawke? Ten more minutes and if he still hasn’t shown his face I go back to that palace and throw a fireball at the first face I see?” She suggested, slummed against the table with her arms crossed over her chest.

Hawke let out a chitter, fluttered down to the table and began picking at the scattered parchment.

Asharae sighed and nodded. “I know. Wren would not approve.”

She could already hear Wren scolding her for even thinking about starting a fight, he would tell her to just be patient and use her time to read a book or sharpen her dagger. “When Wren asks why I prefer we not work with or interact with nobility, I will use this as a perfect example. They have no manners.”

Hawke stopped pecking at the parchment and gave Asharae a look as if the elven woman hadn’t just threatened to set innocent people on fire.

“Do not look at me like that! If you had to listen to half the slurs they throw at my brother and I, you would claw a few eyes out too!”

The door to the guard house opened and slammed shut as captain Brant ran in, he moved so quickly that Asharae nearly threw a dagger at him thinking he was a thief or a bandit, he locked the door and even walked over to the stairs and looked up to make sure no one was listening to them. “No one is here.” Asharae filled in as she stood up, ready to finally get some answers. With a few heavy breaths, Brant glanced back at the door then nodded. “One can ne’er be to careful.”

“Why? What reason do we have to be careful? I have done what you asked now I except answers as to why you had my brother’s belongs and ordered me here?”

“Will you sit down first so we can speak plainly?”

Asharae gritted her teeth, why must humans insist of beating around the bush?!

But she knew that getting angry wasn’t going to help the situation either, so she sat down and fixed the captain with a hard stare. Brant sat across from her and rested his arms on the table. “His Majesty vanished from the palace.”

What?

“I went to check on His Majesty and he was gone. His belongings were still present and there was no sign of a struggle. I tried to inquire with the sentinels but told me that they were under strict orders from the Queen Regent not to discuss the Sovran with me.”

Asharae slammed her fist down on the table, startling Hawke. “But you are the captain. How can they refuse to disclose information if you order it?”

“It has come to my attention that I have been demoted.”

Demoted?

As in he lost his role as captain? That made no sense, the only person that could remove Brant from his position was Wren and he was currently missing so who was left?

“By order of Queen Regent Disa, I no longer have authority in the palace grounds. My duties have been redirected to city’s needs and I officially I am no longer involved in the well being of the Sovran.”

That didn’t help with anything and Asharae was growing rapidly more frustrated, to the point her clenched fists were shaking. She wanted to be out there looking for Wren, not hearing about the latest gossip from the palace!

“You have my sympathies but this does not explain what happened to Wren! What has that snake of a woman done with my big brother!?” Asharae demanded, her voice loud and angry.

Brant’s composure was firm though. He sat straight and clasped his hands in front of him as he met Asharae’s burning rage with his own steely gaze. “I am unsure of the Sovran’s current fate.”

‘Then why are you wasting my time?’ She wanted to ask. No, she wanted to demand, Asharae was ready to storm out of the guard house and head into the wilds, if Wren wasn’t in the city then he had to be out there. And Asharae was certain that her brother had issue with her breaking the skulls of a few bandits and even if he did, well, he can’t complain if her violent approach saved his life. But who knows how much longer he would be alive if Asharae’s time was being wasted.

“You must not turn to violence or panic, Ser Asharae. No matter where His Majesty is being held, he is most certainly alive.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Because no mortal hands can fell the Arisen.”

That... That was true.

In all her anger, Asharae had completely forgotten that part of the curse of the Arisen was immortality when it came to mortal attacks. No human, elf or even a beastren would be able to kill Wren, even those that wielded magick would be unable to harm him.

So there was still time to find her brother.

Okay, with this reminder, she wouldn’t march out the door right now. So leaning back in the chair, Asharae crossed her arms and was ready to listen to what little knowledge they had. “And you have not clues or evidence of where my brother is being kept?”

Brant shook his head, dejectedly.

“The Queen Regent has many allies, I suspect she has enlisted the aid of one of them to remove the Arisen in such a discrete manner. Had I the authority, I would send guards to raid any known bandit out post in the Vermund territory but alas... my resources have become greatly limited. I, myself, have been forbidden from leaving the city walls.” This was a major blow to the captain’s pride, he was meant to protect the Sovran with his life and to have the elven man spirited away in the middle of the night under everyone’s noses. How could he call himself the captain of the Vermundian guard if he couldn’t do his job?

All Asharae heard was that nobles were involved, that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Nobility were just as cut throat as thieves and bandits, if not more so. An argument could be made that thieves stole and killed to survive, nobility would order the death of another person just because their fragile egos were bruised by someone merely questioning their methods.

But nobility were harder to reach than peasants so the first place to search were the bandit camps.

“Do you have a map of these bandit camps?” Asharae asked.

“I- Yes. But bandits are flighty at the best of times, we have no way of knowing if they have moved their bases.”

So the Vermundian guards knew how to swing a sword but they couldn’t track? Asharae held back the smirk, it was good to know she had one advantage over them. If they couldn’t track bandits then they wouldn’t be able to track her. “All I need is a map. I can figure out the rest once I’m there.”

“I cannot offer you much aid, Ser Asharae. While there are a collection of sentinels that I trust wholeheartedly, should I order them to follow you, the Queen Regent will surely know-”

“I don’t need help.”

“You mean to traverse the Vermund wilds alone?”

Asharae nodded.

Brant did not like this plan. “I must request that you rethink that plan of action. Since the dragon’s appearance, monster activity has become increasingly dangerous. To travel alone would be suicide.” He wouldn’t even send his most capable sentinel into the wilds alone, the monsters were too unpredictable. And if he were to let Asharae leave, he couldn’t carry on with her death on his consious, how would he explain to the Sovran that his sister was killed and Brant did nothing to stop it from happening?

‘The way I am feeling, no monster or man would dare cross me.’ Asharae thought while tapping her fingers on the table. It was a good distraction when she needed to suppress the fire magick. Brant was a good man, she could see that as clear as day, but a good man won’t talk her out of this. “The only way you will be able to stop me from search for my brother would be to restrain and throw me in the nearest gaol. I will not sit by and twiddle my thumbs while Wren is who knows where, suffering who knows what so with all due respect, captain.” They both stood up. Asharae to leave and Brant to stop her. The elf glared up at him. “Stand aside.”

“I understand your pain, Ser Asharae. Truly, I do.” He didn’t step towards her, that surprised Asharae. Usually when a person wanted to stop another they would advance on them and be ready to restrain them, but Brant kept his distance. “But take a moment to breathe, you are not alone in your efforts.”

He must have been getting advice from Wren in how to handle Asharae’s outbursts.

And it was only because that was Wren’s advice, that Asharae closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Only a clear mind would aid her in the future, a mind clouded with anger would have Asharae chasing her own bias.

“I may not be able to offer much aid outside of Vernworth but I can be your eyes and ears within these walls.” Brant offered.

“What are you saying?”

“Come back to Vernworth now and then. I am certain with time I will be able to uncover more of what the Queen Regent has done with His Majesty, unless we work together, the Arisen may remain lost.”

She hated this.

Asharae hated the Queen Regent for doing this.

She hated that they were forced to come to Vernworth.

And above all else, she hated that she had no choice but to agree to captain Brant’s plan.

If it turns out that Wren wasn’t in any of these bandit camps, Asharae would have no further leads to follow. And as much as she would really enjoy holding Disa at knife point and demanding to know where Wren was being hidden, that would cause more harm than good. She had no choice but to team up with the captain, he was the only person that could get information, the only one that the people of Vernworth would talk to.

She was dependent on him.

And she hated that too.

“I will send Hawke back in two weeks. By then I hope you will have more information for me.”

“Stay safe on your travels, Ser Asharae. I wish you all the luck.”

‘I am going to need more than luck...’

-

It was funny.

For the past month, Asharae wanted nothing more than to be back out in the wilds. Surrounded by trees and wild life instead of stone walls and soft humans.

And now that she was here, she has never been more lonely.

“Tis my fault Hawke….” She confessed to the bird on her shoulder.

“He was willing to go home. He said we had learned more than enough but I insisted on coming to this land.” Asharae confessed, her voice stuttered and breath shaky. “If it wasn’t for my insistence then none of this would have happened.”

They never would have set foot in Melve.

They wouldn’t have experienced the wrath of the dragon.

Wren never would have been made Arisen.

And he wouldn’t have been caught up in whatever schemes the Queen Regent was working on.

Why couldn’t she just wait a few more months? They would have been gone and the throne would still belong to her, Wren didn’t want power. They would have left willingly.

“Tis my fault...”

Hawke leaned over and began preening Asharae’s hair. It made her chuckle, Hawke always knew when she or Wren needed a little extra comfort. Or she was just hungry and was trying to butter up Asharae to share the dried meat that was in her pack.

Either way, the elven woman appreciated the affection.

“You are right. I must stop feeling sorry for myself, Wren needs me.” She wiped away her gathering tears. Wren would say it’s okay to cry, there was no weakness in being sad or showing vulnerability but right now Asharae had to be strong. Once she found her brother, then she would spend a week crying on his shoulder to make up the tears she was holding in now. “And I need to make up for my mistake.”

No matter what it takes, Asharae will find her big brother.

And when she does, she is taking him home.

Fuck this kingdom, fuck the dragon and fuck the destiny of the Arisen.

Why should Wren suffer because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? It wasn’t fair.

But Asharae was going to make it right.

No matter what the cost.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know why but Wren felt that pain had become a regular companion in his life as of late.

Not that he had anything to confirm that theory.

His earliest memory was waking up in that dark, miserable place surrounded by people that, if he was being honest, didn’t seem all there.

They weren’t stupid by any means, it was just when Wren made eye contact with one there was a haze in their eyes. Like there were missing something.

It wasn’t like he was judging him, if anything Wren could relate to that feeling. Ever since he woke up in this pit it felt like Wren was missing something, the most obvious being his memories, no person made it to his age and had no recollection of his life. He spent many nights pondering on his lost past until it gave him a headache that could only be likened to being hit in the head with a battle-axe.

But these people had been kind to him.

From the moment Wren first awoke, his cellmates were kind and patient. And even though they weren’t big on talking, Wren could tell they were listening on the few occasions he decided to speak. One of them, a beastren he believed, had been kind enough to wrap a ragged, burlap cloak around his shoulders when the chill from the stone floors started to cause Wren to shiver. He wanted to repay them, somehow.

One of his temporary companions, another beastren, sat down next to him. A male one with mostly white fur and grey patches. They gave Wren a blank look to which he smiled in return, if these people couldn’t smile then he would do it for them. The beastren’s eyes flicked down to his lips then back to Wren’s violet tinted eyes, a small twitch of their lips and it was enough to know they were trying to smile back. “I believe we may see the sun today.” Wren commented.

None of then had seen the sun since they were broke here and the ones that were taken from the gaol never came back.

Wren wanted to believe they were given their freedom.

That whatever reason that landed them all in this miserable place had been resolved and the ones who got to leave were happy somewhere. That’s what Wren wanted to believe.

But he knew the truth wasn’t as happy.

“You look like an adventurer.” He continued with his one sided conversation. “Those eyes, I bet they have seen a thing or two. Tell me, have you encountered many beasts? I wonder if I did, I feel like I did.” At that’s what Wren’s dreams lead him to believe. Dreams of poison spitting chimera, foul smelling ogres and annoying groups of goblins. And then there was the person that was always with him in these dreams, he could never make out if they were a man or a woman or even which race they were but there was always a strong sense of loyalty. Like he would die to protect the person in his dreams, they must have meant a great deal to Wren.

He would like to remember them.

He wondered if they were looking for him.

“Say, when we get out of here, perchance you and I will travel together, eh?” Wren suggested, his smile turning into an excited grin. “Could be exciting. Think of the things we will see and the people we will meet… Tis a big world out there, it would be a shame to let it go unseen.” A warm feeling rested over Wren’s hand, he looked down to see the greyish white hand of his beastren companion. Wren wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed.

The sound of scrapping metal and heavy footsteps caused everyone in the cells to flinch.

It was the foreman.

Wren could hear the portly man’s arrogant voice get closer and closer, complaining about Wren and the other gaol residents. When the man came into view, the elf tried to keep his head down, eye contact was not encouraged, speaking was not encouraged but what else was there to do. The rules were to stay quiet and only move if you were called out.

“...And you.”

Today seemed to Wren’s turn.

It had to be a mistake so he kept his head down, the foreman must be referring to someone else.

“I’ve just got to take down a record of your name and face. Come on, step forward.”

Damn it.

Shrugging off the make shift cloak, Wren handed it to his beastren companion and reluctantly stepped towards the bars. He showed no fear, just stayed stoic and met the foreman’s eye. The man sneered at him. “I ill like that look in your eye. ‘Tis queerly brazen for a pawn.” He commented, Wren frowned. What was so brazen about meeting another person’s eye? Pawn or not.

“Most of your kind have eyes blank as a cadaver’s. Mayhap ‘tis only natural, seeing as how you rise from the dead.” The dead? Did this man believe that pawns were not alive? Did they not walk and breathe and eat as people did? No, Wren could see it in the way the foreman stared down his nose at him and the surrounding pawns, they were nothing more than livestock to be used as he saw fit. “There’s aught different about you, though.” The foreman continued. He took a step closer to the bars and narrowed his eyes at Wren. “Could it be that you fear death, just as we mortals do?”

‘Death comes to us all. The only difference is when it decides to collect.’ Is what Wren wanted to say but he held his tongue, no good what come of showing that he had the will power to fight back.

Still, he and a number of other pawns were selected.

Looks like Wren was getting his wish, he just hoped the sun was especially bright today.

-

The hopes for the sun were short lived.

As soon as they stepped out of the dingy gaol tunnel, they were met with a grim looking excavation sight with the ruins of what was once an imposing and impressive tower. The sun that Wren had longed for was being blocked out by thick clouds of smoke, the taste of burning and ash was heavy in the air and it made Wren’s throat tickle. Where had he been before that ash and burning were familiar?

The foreman, Fiska, Wren learned was his name from the guards requestion his attention for other things, cursed under his breath and lifted the strange looking staff from his back. The crystal on top had an eerie aura to it, it made Wren’s chest and head ache. He wanted smash it into pieces off the nearest rock and he didn’t know why.

“You lot, into the caves and start moving rubble!” Fiska ordered, pointing the staff towards the huge opening at the base of the tower. The pawns ran off with no hesitation but Wren stalled, staring at the crystal as if in a trance.

Fiska looked between the staff and elf then gritted his teeth. “Useless thing...” He growled out then thrust the staff forward again. “You heard me! Get to work!”

Wren hesitated again but got moving when he caught sight of the guards approaching him with their hands on their weapons, he didn’t want to fight.

Inside the dig site, he was met with a pawn he had never seen before. A human male, tall, a head full of dark brown curls and facial hair by the name of Rook. He didn’t look as run down as a the other pawns that Wren passed but there was an air of experience around him, like he had seen many things. Wren liked him immediately.

Rook guided and instructed him around the dig sit or as best you could instruct when your only job was to move rubble from one place to another, Wren tried to make quiet conversation and Rook would pause to stare at him. As though he was stunned that someone was willing to talk to a pawn. Or maybe he was shocked that a pawn wanted to make idle conversation. But still they worked until there was a loud crash and shouts of fear from outside.

Wren and Rook shared a look and ran out to see what the commotion was.

Guards and pawns fled in droves from the upper area of the excavation site, the tail end of the crowd were hit with a pinkish red light and they were turned to stone within seconds. “What? Could it be magick?” Wren questioned. A loud hiss like screech could be head and Rook shook his head, it had to be a monster. “We must aid them!” The pair ran up the rickety wooden ramps, pushing past the ones fleeing and being careful to not be shoved off, they only came to a halt when they saw a massive snake tail crawl past them.

The head of the tail lifted revealing the twisted body of a woman with a head of snakes and eyes glowing that unnatural pink. ‘A Medusa!?’

From behind a stack of crates, Fiska stared in horror at the beast that was making a culling of everyone it set it’s sights on. “No… The damned thing’s been awoken!” He swore and took a firm grip of the staff, he looked at the group of pawns that were standing by and waiting for an order. “You are to fell that fiend, even at the cost of your lives!”

With no question or resistance, the pawns picked up any discarded weapons that laid that their feet and charged at the monster. Medusa turned it’s attention to them, it swayed from side to side then screeched at them and it’s eyes lit up.

The pawns turned to stone in the blink of an eye.

There was no stopping it and Fiska realised this. He turned to his guard with a desperate expression. “Get me out of here! Now!” He demanded.

‘How does one fell a beast that can kill you in the blink of an eye?’ Wren thought from behind the boulder he and Rook were using as a shield. In theory, the superior numbers of pawns should be able to overwhelm the Medusa but no one could get close to it. ‘You attack it from behind while it is distracted and force it into retreat!’ It went against Wren’s morality but it was the only choice he had if he wanted any of them to survive, the pawns had to act as living fodder while he and Rook attacked it from behind. They wouldn’t be able to kill it but maybe they could scare it enough to force it to run away.

So grabbing a fallen bow and putting on a quiver of arrows, Wren turned to Rook and grabbed his shoulder. “My friend, I know tis a huge ask but I must beg your assistance. Follow my lead and stay behind the Medusa and attack the head.” The pawn had no reason to listen to him, no reason to trust him but Wren knew he couldn’t do this alone so when Rook picked up a rusted mage staff, grabbed the elven man’s hand with his other and nodded. Wren’s being filled with relief.

“We do this together!”

Or they would die trying.

They took advantage of the Medusa trying to swipe at the pawns attacking her front, they pawns were fighting valiantly and with no fear but their attack did little to phase the monster. Fighters hacked away at the long tail despite the iron like scales, others using their shields to try and protect themselves from the pink light but their efforts were pointless. They met the same fate as their stone comrades. Wren took aim with his bow and started shooting at the snake heads that made up her hair. Rook followed suit, firing magick bolts at it which where having better luck landing their hits. With each direct hit, they hissed in agony and flailed around wildly, sometime slapping into the Medusa’s face causing it to close it’s eyes for a moment.

And a moment was all Wren needed.

When the Medusa was trying to bat away it’s flailing hair all while keeping it’s eyes tightly closed, it’s neck was left exposed. Wren drew his arm back and loosed an arrow, it whistled through the air and landed with a sickening squelch. Right in the throat.

It let out a wail of agony, both hands and snake heads clawing at the neck to remove the arrow all while it slithered away in a hurry. Knocking over anything it happened to collide with.

Wren breathed out a sigh of relief and patted Rook on the back, he didn’t look at the statues of the pawns. It hurt too much.

“You and your bleeding heart.” A voice in his head whispered, its was tired but there was a hint of admiration behind the mocking tone. The voice was familiar but the name was just out of his reach. “You always felt more for the lives lost than the ones you saved.”

“They didn’t have to die...” He whispered back.

“You ought flee while you can.”

Whipping around, a transparent figure with an ethereal blue glow, wearing what looked like the robes a sage would wear from the ancient times. And the way the figured stared at Wren with it’s unblinking eyes made his skin crawl. It was like they were staring directly through his soul.

They smiled in a knowing way. “After all, your charge awaits you.”

“My… charge?” What charge? Wren had no one that he was responsible for, if he did then why would he have been sent to this miserable place?

“You cannot linger in this place forever.”

The figure waved their hand over Wren, like a priest bestowing a blessing. At first Wren felt a strange but warm feeling seeping into his brain, the feeling similar to slipping into a hot bath after a hard day’s work but that comfort was rapid replaced with the throbbing and stabbing sensation that always accompanied his headache. Wren staggered and held his head. The figure, Pathfinder, withdrew their hand and for a split second looked confused, as though they had not expected this kind of push back.

“...You have lost your memories.” They mused and spared a glance at Rook, who also was concerned and baffled that Wren was seeing and speaking to something that he couldn’t see. This wasn’t right, a pawn should know who the elf is on sight. “‘Tis surely the work of a fell curse- but worry not.”

A curse?

A curse is why he could barely remember his own name?

Before Wren could ask more questions- no, demand answers about this curse and how he could have it reversed so he could go back to being who he use to be, Pathfinder waved their hand over Rook’s face and for a moment the pawn looked dazed. He swayed on the spot then shook his head to rid himself of the feeling but the second he looked at Wren it was like he was seeing the light. Recognition and relief.

Pathfinder was pleased.

“You need only believe in your own destiny… Arisen.”

“Arisen?” Wren repeated, that word felt so familiar.

“You are the Arisen!” Rook exclaimed with joy.

The joy was short lived as he was finally able to take in their surrounding, this place wasn’t safe. The Arisen’s life was at risk here and it was Rook’s purpose to protect him. “Come.” He urged, grabbing Wren’s arm and desperately pulled for the elf to follow. “We must get you out of this place!”

Now was not the time for questions, Rook was right.

On the other side of the flat lands, Fiska and his guards surveyed the damaged caused by the Medusa and to see if they could salvage anything. They weren’t concerned with the number of pawns that had fallen, pawns could be replaced “Consarn it! The accursed creature escaped!” Fiska swore. He briefly wondered if they could send a search party to go and track the beast down before it got too far but that thought was thrown away when he caught sight of Wren and Rook making a run for the cliff side opening of the site. “Oy, you! Get back here!” He shouted.

No, they couldn’t afford to loose more workers!

Pawns couldn’t be trusted. Fiska pointed for the mortals guards to pursue them. “After them! Quick!”

So much for quick exit.

“This way, Arisen!” Rook shouted as they both ran as fast as their legs would carry them.

Blood pounding in their ears, drowning out the sounds of the guards ordering them to stop, as they got closer and closer to the cliff edge. It was only when they reach it that they realised they were trapped. “We- we have no choice!” Rook urged.

“This shan’t be the end, it can’t be!”

‘Not until I learn the truth!’

They both closed their eyes and jumped.

Fiska and the guards witnessed the jump. And couldn’t believe their eyes. “No one could survive a fall from this height- not even a pawn!” Ah, it was just another waste of time. Time they could have used excavating more was now going to be spent on obtaining the needed replacements, not to mention the gold that would have to be spent. Fiska’s self pity was cut short when a foreboding rose up from below them.

His first fear was a drake, it would just be their luck to survive a Medusa attack only to fall victim to a drake.

But the fluffy of feathers raining down on them and the tell tale crackling of lightning magick told him what the assailant was. A griffin.

The majestic beast hovered above them, lightning dancing over it’s wings and feathers as it let out a screech of rage. The commotion must have disturbed a nest it had further down the cliff, griffins don’t attack unless they were provoked or hunting and there was no meat around for it to feast on. Fiska was ready to order a retreat when despite the sun shining in his eyes, he could make out the shapes of those two fools that jumped off the cliff clinging to its back.

They weren’t going to get away that easy.

And if Fiska didn’t have a Medusa for a trophy, then his superiors would have to settle for a griffin. “Don’t just stand there! Shoot it down!”

Unfortunately for him, griffins had a great sense of self preservation than most monsters.

The moment the guards started firing arrows at the griffin, it knew this tantrum wasn’t worth getting arrows and swords in it’s hide. It let out another eat piercing screech and took off into the sky, all while Pathfinder stood by and watched with a pleased smile.

“Go now, lost soul. And learn aught you can of this world you must protect.”

-

There was so much to this land.

So much beauty.

So much mystery.

And Wren wanted to see it all.

If this land was his to protect then why couldn’t he explore it too? His memories were missing but not gone, not if Wren had anything to say about it. He would find the cause of this curse, he would find the person that haunted his dreams and gave him support when he was at his lowest and he would find out more about his role as the Arisen.

The griffin carried them so far. Over the ocean, the red stone of the desert and now they were over a bountiful forest land with high mountains. And the further it got into the mountains, its movements felt more forced followed by breathless panting.

‘It must be getting fatigued. The nest must be close.’ Wren concluded. He turned to Rook who was still clinging to the back of the griffin, he wasn’t sure if the pawn would be able to hear him over the roaring wind in their ears but he had to try and communicate.

“When it lands, we must make a swift retreat!” He shouted. “I doubt it will be thankful for us hitching a ride thi-”

SCHEEEE!

-

Wren remembers the griffin screeching out in agony.

Then they were falling.

The only way they could survive that fall is if this Arisen duty was giving him inhuman durability. If only it could take away the pain that came with falling off a griffin midflight.

“Ahhh...” Wren groaned out in pain as he pushed himself up on shaky arms. “Shit... shit...”

His vision was blurry, making him rub his eyes and once it was cleared he was met with the bloodied corpse of the griffin that unintentionally saved him and Rook. It was a mess of blood and feathers with a ballista bolt sticking out of it, so they had been shot out of air? Wren wasn’t sure whether to be angry that he had nearly been killed three times today or impressed that whoever fired that bolt was able to hit the griffin dead on point. But if someone was able to use a ballista that could fire that big a bolt then there had to be a settlement near by.

It meant he and Rook could get help.

Wait...

“Rook!”

He had to be somewhere, looking around frantically for his companion. Wren’s breath stopped in his throat when he saw the pawn chest deep in the river. A red mass surrounding him and watery, red tendrails reaching up to pull the pawn further into the water despite his struggling. “Rook!” Wren tried to run in to save him but stopped at the shallow edge when Rook held his hand up. “Pray, keep your distance, Arisen!” He begged.

“But-”

“Worry not for me. The Brine may swallow me whole, but I will not perish.”

How could he sound so calm?

So accepting of his fate?

Wren wanted to scream, to order the pawn to fight.

“There is a stone not far from here known as a riftstone. Pray, seek it out.”

A riftstone? Again, another familiar word that tugged at Wren’s brain.

“If you truly are the Arisen, then out paths will surely... cross... again...”

The Brine swallowed Rook whole and then the water returned to it’s usual blue state. Peaceful, tranquil... like nothing had happened to begin with. And now Wren was alone. He had no one, no cellmates to have one side conversations with, no Rook and that Pathfinder, where had he gone?

But Rook gave him instruction. Find the riftstone, if that is what Rook wanted then Wren would do that. Afterwards... well... he would figure out something.

“Oy, are you alright?!” A voice called out. Two men dressed in matching armour emerged from the bushes, clearly soldiers. “What happened here?” One of them asked as he looked between the corpse of the griffin and Wren’s ragged appearance.

And Wren had no idea where to begin with that question.

-

Three months.

Three long, grueling months of following lead after lead only to come up with nothing.

But Asharae didn’t loose hope.

Her anger at humans was growing with each passing day but she was using that angry to fuel her search, she wouldn’t give up until she found her brother. Be it dead or alive.

Surprisingly, Asharae kept her word with captain Brant. When she ran out of leads, she returned to Vernworth to see if he had anymore information for her, sometimes he did but most of the time he didn’t.

His most recent disclosure was the Queen Regent’s motivations, Asharae was ready to shrug him off and go back to her search, believing that she already knew the reason why. Disa wanted the throne, simple as that. When the end goal was to obtain and keep hold of power, it didn’t matter how complex the plan was, all that mattered was making it happen with as few people knowing the truth.

But the update Brant had caused more questions than answers.

Not long after Wren’s disappearance, Brant learned there was an imposter in the place of the true Arisen.

Again, Asharae was ready to ignore this. She could careless about a place holder, the false Arisen was most likely a puppet ruler. A way for Disa to maintain control while keeping up the illusion of them having their precious Sovran but then it became a little more complex when Brant told her about the Regentkin. Disa’s precious son that neither Wren nor Asharae met during their short stay at the palace. Asharae chalked it up to him being a spoiled little princeling that would look down on her and her brother the same way that Disa did.

But Brant confessed that before Wren showed up, the Regentkin was next in line to become ruler of Vermund.

And if Brant was to be believed, Disa would prefer to see her son on the throne than anyone else. If that was the case, why go through all the effort of removing Wren to only put a figure head in his place? Even a false Arisen would stop the Regentkin taking his place, it made no sense.

“I feel as though I have aged five years in these past months, Hawke.” Asharae confessed as she rubbed her forehead. She set up camp and had some scrags of meat cooking away, it wouldn’t taste as good as what Wren would make. Hawke couldn’t wait for dinner, apparently, she busied herself with scratching at the dirt and plucking out any unfortunate insect she happened across. She only screeched at Asharae to pay attention to the cooking meat when the elven woman was too focused on the map in front of her.

So many places crossed out and just as many Asharae visited twice. Just to make sure that Wren hadn’t been moved there after checking it.

“Where is he? They couldn’t have taken him over the mountains, the people of this land don’t go there...”

And if he was there then... there was no way of finding Wren.

Asharae shook that thought from her head.

Wren was still in these lands, she could feel it.

“We aren’t going back to Vernworth. I am not ready, there has to be...”

Asharae groaned and slumped forward, her elbows resting on her knees as she held her head and just stared down at the map. “I need- I need to clear my head. I need... I need to retrace my steps, go back to where this started.”

Yes. Maybe returning to Melve might help, the people there might have seen or heard something.

It was the only place she hadn’t gone back to.

Chapter Text

“You have pointed ears.”

Wren paused in plucking the apples from the branch and turned to his newest companion.

Nug.

His pawn that was created from his fractured mind, Wren was still trying to wrap his head around that part. That he created a person just by imagining what they looked like and what he came up with was an overly tall, lanky beastren with tanned fur that had a dark spotted pattern. On her head was short and spiky sand coloured hair to contrast against her pale blue eyes, eyes that were filled with curiousity about the world around her and that included her master. It was a strange comfort that Wren wasn’t the only one confused by this Arisen situation, the guard who found Wren was baffled beyond words when those pawns at the encampment bowed down to him and swore their allegiance.

He only wished Rook could have been there to witness it.

But it wasn’t like he left that place empty handed, he had Nug now and Ser Justinn told him about the recent dragon attack on the near by village of Melve. If that was the place Wren was made Arisen then there should be clues as to how he ended up in that excavation site with no memory of who he was and this so called destiny.

So putting the apples in the pack that Ser Justinn was so kind to give him before leaving the encampment, Wren motioned for Nug to continue following him as they spoke. “Yes, my ears are pointed.”

“But humans do not have pointed ears.”

“That is correct.”

“So you are...”

“An elf.”

“An elf.” Nug echoed, testing the word on her tongue. “There aren’t many elven pawns.”

“I am willing to bet there are even fewer elven Arisen yet...” Wren made a sweeping motion to himself and grinned proudly. “Here I am!”

Then a slight twinge in the back of his skull made Wren flinch in pain at the mention of other Arisen, more so the idea of elven ones. How could know if that fact was true when he had no idea about himself or even this role as Arisen? But he seemed so certain. “Master! You are in pain!” Nug exclaimed in panic. She rushed forward and tried to push a bottle of healing brew into his hand but Wren gently pushed it back and shook his head. “I assure you, dear Nug. I am quite fine... Tis only a headache.”

“And it could be a side effect of your curse.”

Right, he had told Nug of his curse. Mostly to prevent the pawn from panicking should one of his crippling migraines hit at any moment.

“I promise you, Nug. This pain is not the curse and if it was, I would ne’er hold back from telling you so.”

Nug passed the bottle back and forth in her hands, it looked so small given her large size, and hung her head. She clearly wanted to argue that Wren should just drink the brew whether he was in pain or not but at the same time she didn’t want it to look like she was disagreeing with her Arisen. A good pawn was always obedient. “My role is to protect you, Master.” She muttered then gasped when her master’s pale hands cupped hers. Her glassy eyes meeting his blue ones that were filled with so much affection and warmth. “And you do that wonderfully, my dear. But you needn’t treat me as though I am made of glass.”

Nug let out a stuttered breath. “I will try harder, Arisen.”

Wren smiled and shook his head.

“You are doing more than fine, my dear. Just travel at your own pace and all will turn out well.”

The praise lifted a massive weight from Nug’s shoulders, her face lit up with a care free grin. There was still a lingering fear that she wasn’t serving her master to the best of her abilities but hearing Wren say that he was happy with her service, it helped ignore the fear. So the bottle of brew was returned to her own pack and nodded to show she was ready to continue.

“Speaking of travelling, we have a village to reach. What say we reach there before dark? I bet they have a nice inn with comfortable beds for us to sleep in.” Wren suggested. It was strange though. He felt like he had this conversation before but with someone else.

“A warm bed and a bowl of stew is all the motivation I need! Onward!” Nug cheered, taking the lead while Wren followed behind.

And tried to remember the person he forgot.

-

Melve was a depressing sight.

More than half the village was either burnt to the ground or scorched rubble.

But the people of the village were busy trying to maintain their regular lives, be it collecting water from the river or trying to clean up and rebuild the building s that were no longer livable. Wren doubted they could be salvaged, they would have to be rebuilt from the ground up with materials that hadn’t been charred. “The dragon’s wrath rarely leaves survivors.” Nug commented. “These people are lucky to still have the remains of a village.” Wren nodded in agreement.

All that was left standing was a handful of homes, a modest manor house and a tower with the large ballista fix to the top. So that’s what shot down Wren’s feathered saviour, he would have to have a word with whoever fired it.

Remind them shooting down a griffin when it was carrying a person was exceptionally rude.

“Come. Mayhap someone here knows who I am.”

Walking into what was use to be a village square was just as depressing as when they walked through the damaged entry way arch, if he closed his eyes then Wren could imagine the gathering they must have had here. He was sure they were joyful. People dancing around the well at the centre of the square, celebrating any holiday or maybe the anniversary of the founding of Melve, it must have been wonderful. Wren could only hope that the dragon hadn’t attacked during one of those celebrations.

He hoped there were as few casualties as possible.

He hoped that whatever he did to become the Arisen saved lives.

If it did, he could live with the missing heart... so long as no one else suffered.

“Pitiable Arisen.”

That voice!

It was not the Pathfinder and their calm, hypnotic voice.

This one struck fear into Wren’s very core.

“Hast thou forgotten thy destiny, thy charge?”

The sheer power of the voice made it feel like Wren’s skull was shaking. It made his vision blur and blood pound in his ears, the only reason Wren knew that Nug had rushed to his side because he could feel her hands on his body to try and stop him from falling over. She was calling for him, even with his muffled hearing he could feeling Nug’s distress pulling at their bond. “I-I’m fine, N-Nug...” He tried to reassure him. “Tis only- Argh!”

Even with Nug’s help, the pain caused Wren to drop to his knees and grasp his head. Eyes screwed shut to try and block out the pain. It was agony, he wanted it to end!

“That is most unfortunate... but it doth not release thee from thy fate.”

Why was it dark?

Why were people screaming and running?

All Wren could smell was burning, the ash was filling his throat making it harder from him to breath and the smoke was burning his eyes. This had to be hell! “A-Ash...” Ash? There was nothing but around him but that was not the meaning of the word, he was calling for someone. Someone very important.

Wren forced his eyes open and he was met with a blazing inferno and looming over the fire, there it was. The source of all Wren’s pain and the one that forced him on this forgotten path, it’s molten golden eyes stared down at the elven man as though he were little more than an insect in his path. But there was more, the dragon was not Wren’s main focus. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of two woman. One was a human woman, pretty faced but determination in her eyes as she loosed another arrow at the dragon. The other was an elven woman that bared a strong resemblance to him, she was urging people to escape from the village.

There was pride in Wren’s chest at the sight.

But that pride was rapidly replaced with terror as the dragon turned it’s attention towards them with bloody intent in its eye.

The following moments were a blur.

Charging the dragon.

Being consumed in flames.

And then the stabbing sensation in his chest.

His heart... he could see it...

He watched the dragon consume his still beating heart.

“From this moment forth... thou art Arisen, charge and all.”

“M-My... my heart...” Wren gasped. He was back, the sky was blue and not blocked out by smoke and he could smell grass and flowers instead of burning bodies. But the pain was still present, it was getting worse. “Master? Master! Pray, stand up!” Nug begged, desperately as Wren collapsed to the ground and struggled to keep his eyes open.

There was the sound of rushed footsteps and that pretty faced woman from his memory came into view.

“Can you hear me, ser? Ser? Stay with me!”

“Wren!”

-

He woke up feeling warm and on a comfortable surface.

Wren pushed down to feel what he was lying on and it slightly gave way, it was a bed. Who’s bed was he in?

“Nngh...” With a sleep heavy groan, Wren cracked his eyes open and craned his head to the side. The brunette woman from before was sat at his bedside browsing an unknown tome, maybe she heard him waking up or felt his confused gaze on her but she looked up from her tome and gave Wren a sweet smile. “Thank goodness. How are you feeling?” She asked in a soft voice. Wren opened his mouth to reply but found his mouth dry and scratchy, he needed a drink.

Ulrika noticed how Wren rubbed his throat and quickly handed him a cup of water.

“This is the second time I’ve watched over you like this, isn’t it?” Was she trying to make small talk? Wren remembered her from his foggy memory but there was still nothing else after, he only had this woman’s word to go on so if she said she looked after him then he had no choice but to believe her. He opened his mouth to show his gratitude but the woman held up her hand to stop him. “Pray, save your thanks. ‘Tis only just that I should aid you in turn.”

A sad shadow cast over her face. “After all, ‘tis only by your courage that I live today. Had you not leapt ‘teen me and the dragon...”

She let out a stuttered sigh. Her bottom lip trembling as reached out and held his hand, Wren didn’t know how to respond. His bright eyes shot between the woman’s hand holding his and the strange look she was giving him, was he missing something? “I know you suffered for it. Such ghastly wounds...” Yes, Wren could still feel the phantom pain of his raw burnt skin even now. “And I could not hear your heart beating. ‘Twas a miracle that you survived.”

“A miracle?” A new voice added in.

Both Wren and his caretaker turned toward the stair case to see the dark haired elven woman that was there during the attack. Nug was stood behind her, looming over the woman like an awkward scarecrow all while watching Wren with worry; Wren wanted to hug her and tell her it was all okay now. The elven woman strode closer. “I suppose some would call the role of the Arisen a miracle, Ulrika.”

“Not you though?” Wren asked with the tilt of the head.

She smiled back, it was the first time her stoney mask showed some worth. “Not after that night, no.”

Nug had apparently lost all patience, she rushed past the elf, knelt down beside Wren’s beside and and pulled him into a bone crushing hug. Despite her skinny frame, there was a hidden strength in the pawn, probably what she was such a good fighter. “Master! You are alright!” She cried, nuzzling her cheek against the crown of Wren’s head. The force of which she wrapped her arms around him cause Wren to choke a little, his arms were pressed to his sides so he could only slightly lift his hand and gently rub Nug’s back. “I am quite well, Nug. B-But even the Arisen needs to b-breathe!”

“O-Oh, my apologizes!” She rushed out and released the elf, shuffling back to give him some space.

During all of this, Ulrika was looking between each other them with growing confusion. This was a lot to take in. “Arisen? I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning.” She says and turns to the elven woman. “Does it have aught to do with they you were both taken to the castle, ser Asharae?”

Asharae’s scarred lip twisted into an ugly snarl at the mention of the castle. An instinctive part of Wren wanted to tell her to calm down, that there was no reason to get mad but there was so much new information being thrown at him that Wren was struggling to process it all.

“They said ‘twas so that your wounds could be treated... Though I fear you have no memory of this, either?” Ulrika looked so disappointed that Wren had forgotten who she was, she expected the aftermath of the attack would be sketchy for him given that he was drifting in and out of consciousness during his time in Melve. But Asharae picked up on the lack of memories, any irritation she had at the mention of Vernworth castle was immediately forgotten as she focused entirely on her brother. “You have no memories?” She asked, did that mean he didn’t remember her?

Asharae’s heart sank when Wren shook his head.

“I’m afraid I have been struck with a curse that caused me to forget... everything.”

He may have forgotten who she was but something in Wren’s mind remembered Asharae and it was telling him that this news greatly upset her. She was very good at hiding it but Wren caught the way her eyes were darting around the room, as if she could find a solution if she looked hard enough. Asharae muttered something under her breath then turned to Ulrika. “I need to speak with him alone.” Something told Wren that this was her being polite and that in any other case the other elf would have demanded that Ulrika leave.

Ulrika was reluctant to leave but ended up agreeing with a sad nod. She flashed Wren a small smile and squeezed his hand, which made his eyes widen. He was definetly missing something here.

Asharae watched Ulrika leave and walk down the steps, she didn’t look away until she heard the footsteps go out of earshot and then she turned back to her brother.

The tension could be cut with a knife.

Wren wanted to say something, anything to start a conversation but he didn’t know where to begin. It was clear now that he had no history with Ulrika, chances were that they first met during the night the dragon attacked but Asharae knew it, it was obvious from how she reacted when she learned he had no memories. Ulrika looked hurt, similar to when someone forgets to respond to your letter while Asharae looked like her world had fallen apart. Maybe that was a good place to start, how they knew each other. “Pardon my ignorance, but how- Oof!”

Another weight collided with his chest in a blur of black hair.

Asharae’s embrace was far more desperate than Nug’s. Her hands were clutching at Wren back so tightly that he worried her nails would rip through the fabric and her face was buried in his neck, trying to his her sobs. Wren let her cry.

He felt like crying too.

But he held back the tears, Asharae needed the outlet more than he did so instead he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Gently rocking her back and forth while patting her back.

“I thought I lost you...” Asharae mumbled into the older elf’s neck.

“I’m right here.”

“Yes, you are!” Pulling back, Asharae whipped away her tears and gave the older elf a wobbly smile. It still didn’t feel real but here he was and with some stubble to boot. “And you grew this ugly thing. You will have to shave it if you expect me to be able to look at you without laughing.” She commented and touched Wren’s stubble only to withdraw her hand and let out a dramatic gag, it even made Wren laugh as he reached up and petted his stubble. “I thought it made me look distinguished.” He argued.

“You look like a pale skinned ogre.”

It was good to be able to laugh again.

It may have been just over a day but these last few hours felt more like a life time, to have one moment of happiness, it made all the difference.

When the laughter died down, the siblings smiled at each other but Wren could see the sadness in his sister’s eyes, Asharae carefully laced her fingers into Wren’s. “You truly do not remember me?”

Wren shook his head.

“I... I’m your sister. Asharae.”

“Sister?”

Yes. Yes!

That made so much sense. That is why Wren felt such a strong pull to her, the need to hold her when she was crying and tell her everything was going to be alright, the need to know she was safe and keep it that way. This was his sister, his family.

Letting go of the younger elf’s hand, Wren reached out and held Asharae’s face. The grin on his face was wide and the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Asharae.” He repeated, his voice broken. “My Asharae, my little sister... How could forget you?” This damned curse, how was it possible that it could take from him twice? How much more was missing? More family members? Friends? Perhaps even a lover?

There was so much that he wanted to ask his sister but he didn’t know where to start or if this was even an appropriate time to ask about his entire family history, Asharae was just as emotional as he was so questions about their lives together might only upset her even more. While Wren was having this internal debate, Asharae was searching in her pack. She handed him a worn and well handled leather book, tied closed with a leather strap to hold all additional sheets of paper that were held between existing pages. Even just holding it brought a sense of comfort to Wren’s hollow chest. “This... This is mine, yes?” He asked in a quiet, uncertain tone.

Asharae smiled and nodded.

“Yes. Tis your journal on beasts and our journey since we left home.”

This had to be a blessing.

A message from some deity that there was hope for Wren, he still had ties to his past and they were his sister and whatever was written on these pages. Oh, he couldn’t wait to crack it open and relive all these memories but his excitement was short lived when Ulrika jogged back up the stairs. A light sheen of sweat on her furrowed brow, she looked worried. “Ulrika?” Wren began, handing his journal back to Asharae who tucked it in her pack. “Is aught amiss, my dear?”

“No! No! At least... I hope not...” Ulrika trailed off. She glanced down the stairs, as though checking that no one followed her or was listening. Was she concerned that they were being spied on? “I received word from a look out that-”

“I am of the borderwatch!” A booming, authorities voice called from outside.

Both Asharae and Nug’s hands instinctively went to their weapons but Wren motioned for them to stand down, this had to be what Ulrika looked stressed.

“Someone with Arisen like abilities came to this village, pawn in tow.” The voice from outside called out again, followed by a series of loud knocks on the door. “You know aught of this?”

Apparently, they were being followed from the encampment or someone sent word or Wren’s arrive, either way it made his skin crawl with an uncomfortable sensation. Fearing that they were being watched and had no idea about it. From the side, Asharae was grinding her teeth, she clearly hadn’t been expecting this interruption much less the border watch. This put a major flaw in her plan, once again her plan to get her brother and self out of this backwards dragon-cursed kingdom and back over the safety of the mountains was ruined by the sentinels of Vermund poking their noses where it didn’t belong.

But she could already see the choice Wren was going to make, if these people wanted to see him then he would make it happen.

Wren swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up with a pained grunt, Nug rushed to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist to help him. “Thank you, Nug.” He whispered with a small smile, Nug preened at the praise. Asharae also stood up and began gathering their belongings, even glanced at the window and wondering if they could climbed out and make a run for it.

Ulrika walked over to Wren, placed her hand on his arm with a wide eyed, innocent look on her face. “Has he come for you?” She asked.

Wren nodded. “I fear so, my dear.”

There was a sad expression on Ulrika’s face as she withdraw her hand and held it over her heart, Wren didn’t pick up on it but Asharae certain noticed the longing way the human woman was gazing at her brother. It wasn’t surprising that she developed a fondness from the elf after he saved her life but there was a time and place for it, and when there were guards at your door, it was not time for tearful goodbyes. “We are to be parted so soon, then.” Ulrika said in a sorrowful way, it made Asharae roll her eyes.

If they were going to face this borderwatch, then they had to be prepared for whatever followed after. “Brother!” Asharae called out as she untied a familiar bow from her pack and handed it over to the older elf. “You will be needing this for whate’er comes...”

‘My bow!’ Taking the custom made bow in his hands, the feeling it gave Wren was just like when he held his journal. It felt like home. ‘I... I remember this. I made this bow with my own hands, with the guidance of my mother.’ He no longer needed the bow that saved him against the Medusa, it served its purpose, but he had to use this one now. Anything else would feel like a betrayal to himself and his home. But they had wasted enough time, the border watch would not wait forever.

After holstering the bow on his back, Wren whispered to Nug to step back then turned to Ulrika. He took her hand in both of his, completely covering it given their size difference and offered her a grateful smile. He wasn’t sure how but he wanted to pay this kindness. “You have been naught but good to me, my dear.” He began, once again not catching how Ulrika’s face turned bright red. “To have cared for me not only once but twice in my hour of need, I will repay this kindness, you have my word on it. I won’t forget it... not a second time.”

“Mayhap you will visit me again someday.” Ulrika asked hopefully. That didn’t seem like too big an ask and Wren did just say he wanted to repay his dept, so long as whatever these guards wanted didn’t lead to any long lasting trouble, Wren wanted to come back to Melve. If anything, just to see how the rebuild effort was going. “I am sure that can be arranged.” He agreed, Ulrika’s face lit up. “Till then... Take care, Arisen...”

He was never going to get use to that title...

Walking to the top of the steps, Wren paused and looked back at the group of women with his brow wrinkled as he let out a hum.

“I am having the strangest sensation that this exact scenario has happened before.”

“You have no idea, brother...” Asharae drawled out.

Chapter Text

Well…

The good news was that the border watch didn’t appear to want to arrest Wren.

Their weapons were holstered but they stood ready should the elves and pawns make a less than wise choice but the lack of guards was a surprise, if the Arisen was so important then why send less than and handful to apprehend them? Either they were extremely confident in their skills to be able to over power the one chosen to face the dragon or these people knew something he didn’t, Wren knew which one he was betting on. The leader of the group, a possible commander, was a rugged looking man. He didn’t appear to be hardened by the work, if anything the way his face relaxed when Wren stepped outside was a small comfort.

It meant he, Asharae and Nug would not be leaving Melve in chains.

“Ah, excellent.” The man began, with a clap of his gauntlet covered hands. The sound of metal clattering together made Wren’s wince, it was horrible on the ears. “You must be the one; you match my soldiers’ description. I’m glad I found you.” He continued, unfortunately, Wren and Asharae didn’t share the same relief.

“Pray, allow me to introduce myself. I am Ser Gregor.”

“I-” “His name is Wren.” Asharae cut in, side stepping around her brother and crossing her arms over her chest and fixed the human with a stone stare. Showing some resistance but nothing that would force Gregor’s hand, Nug stood on the other side of her master and gave Asharae a curious glance, studying her posture then imitating it. Seeing that Asharae’s first priority was to protect the Arisen, it made Nug like her instantly. Gregor was a little caught off by display, he was expecting the man claiming to be the Arisen to challenge his orders and maybe whatever wayward pawn was following him around but what he wasn’t expecting was a mortal with their own will power and opinion to stand between them. “A-Ah… Ma’am, these matters are highly confidential. They should be discussed privately between myself and-”

“If you wish to speak with my brother then you can say whate’er have to say in front of myself and… uhh...” Asharae motioned for at the pawn. Nug blinked but quickly caught on. “Nug.” “Nug, yes. Ser Nug is also to be involved in the conversation as the Arisen’s pawn.”

Nug liked her even more now.

“I...”

Wren sighed and placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder, she certainly was a feisty one. “No need to make things tense, dear sister. I am sure we can talk as adults.” He said softly then looked back to Gregor and the other members of the border watch. “You came in search of me, yes? May I inquire why? I assure you, good ser, neither myself nor my companions have committed aught that could be viewed as a crime or even a disturbance.”

“We are not here to arrest you, Ser Wren. Had we not heard word that you claim to be the Arisen then you and your lively companions would have ne’er heard from us.”

“I see. So why does my being the Arisen call for such an introduction.”

Gregor paused for a moment, taking notice that Wren referred to himself as Arisen with not flourish or doubt. He said it with such ease, anyone would believe that the elven man was introducing himself as a humble farmer or trades man. “The ruler of Vermund, currently convalescing in the capital, became Arisen in this very village.” He explained and took note of how the group before him reacted to the news. Asharae scrunched her nose up as thought she had just inhaled the scent of rotting meat, whether this reaction was from the mention of the capital or Arisen, he wasn’t sure but the dark haired woman was far more tense at those words. Nug looked bewildered, even going as far as to look between Wren and Gregor but she showed no sign of wanting to leave the man’s side.

And Wren wasn’t phased in the slightest, no fear, no anger or even confusion.

If anything he looked more curious, tilting his head slightly to the side and letting out a small ‘huh’. He was intrigued.

“If you claim the same, then word must be borne to the capital.” Gregor continued. “I dispatched a missive afore coming here, though I doubt the matter can be settled without your presence. Would you be willing to accompany me to the capital? If you truly are Arisen, you will be received with open arms.”

Asharae was ready to slam the door on that offer. “N-” “Yes.” Wren cut her off. Asharae instantly grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled him back, she didn’t say a word but the look on her face said a thousand words. She didn’t want to go with these men and she didn’t want to go anywhere near the capital.

Before all it took for the siblings to have a secret conversation was a few simple looks and miniscule actions, Wren was able to read his sister like a book even when she was trying to keep her thoughts to herself but that was before the dragon and the curse. Now instead of refusing to go to Vernworth, Wren gave his sister a disapproving frown and pulled his arm back. “We will go to the capital with you.” He agreed and even shook Gregor’s hand. A smile lit up Gregor’s face. “I appreciate your co-operation. Oh, but forgive me! I scattered my soldiers in a bid to find you.” That explained why there were so few of them. “I would not depart without them. We shall wait till they are reassembled.”

Did that mean he expected the elves and the pawn had to stand around and eat the dirt while the guards scrambled around like lost rats?

“Come to think of it...” Gregor began, with a thoughtful stroke of his chin. “Ser Lennart was asking after you as well.”

‘Ser Lennart?’ That name didn’t ring any bells but that wasn’t saying much given the holes in Wren’s mind. So he turned towards Asharae, who only shrugged. Apparently, she hadn’t met this Ser Lennart either.

“Mayhap now would be a good time to speak with him?” Gregor suggested then pointed at one of the few building in Melve that didn’t have any fire damage or crumbling walls. “Last I saw, he was having a drink at the inn. If you would be so kind as to return here as soon as your business is finished, I do not wish to scatter my soldiers to find you after they regroup.” He motioned for the elves and pawn to be on their way, Asharae wasted no time in stomping towards the inn while Wren rushed out a ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ as he rushed after the younger elf with Nug jogging after him.

Okay, he knew that Asharae didn’t agree with the choice of going to Vernworth but that was no reason for her to run off like a sulking toddler. “Asharae, if you would just wait-”

“We should just leave.”

‘What?’

“What?” Wren echoed his own thoughts, he was expecting an argument. Not this. “Leave? But Ser Gregor said-”

“Ser Gregor wants to take you to Vernworth. Believe me, brother, that is not a wise decision.” So they had been to the capital of Vermund before and clearly something had happened there that meant Asharae didn’t want to return. It made sense, just the word ‘Vernworth’ made Wren’s head ache slightly, like a lesser version of the pain he felt when the memories of the dragon came flooding back. But they didn’t have the luxury of leaving any clues to the origin of this curse untouched. Wren let out a puff of air through his nose and shook his head. “I do not know what happened but this is the only choice we have.”

Asharae scoffed and threw her hands in the air, her first instinct was to punch something. Anything to get the frustration or but that wasn’t an option so she grabbed onto the roots of her hair and pulled in an effort to distract from her frustration. “Choice for what? The choice to have another curse placed on you?” She nearly shouted.

And Wren went pale.

Did that mean… “Was Vernworth the place where I was cursed?” He asked slowly, had Asharae known this all along? And if so, why was she trying to stop him from learning this?

Asharae released her hair, leaving it slightly frazzled, and quickly turned away to avoid eye contact. Wren was not going to let this go easily. “Asharae, tell me.” He demanded, the younger elf glanced at him from the corner of the eye and looked away again. “We should just leave.” She repeated but sounded more desperate this time, more scared. “Naught good can come from going back to Vernworth, you must believe me on that. If we leave now then we can-”

“Tell me what happened in Vernworth. Make me understand.”

“We can go home and leave this cursed land behind us.”

No.

They couldn’t.

And it wasn’t just his duty as Arisen that was forcing Wren to stay, part of him felt the need to stay and see this through. At the very least get answers, he couldn’t make any decisions on this whole Arisen and dragon business until he had a cleared picture.

“If Vernworth is where I was curse then… perchance the cure also lies there. Would you rather we run with my mind in pieces when a cure could be just out of our grasp?” Wren tried to argument, he knew he was grasping at straws but straws were all they had. “I need to do this, Asharae. I need answers… answers I fear you are not willing to give me.”

For a split second the betrayal and hurt on Asharae’s face was as clear as the damage done to Melve but she quickly hid it behind a frown that was becoming a regular sight. “Very well. If you wish to go to Vernworth… then we shall go there...” She then turned and stalked off towards the more levelled part of the village, Wren had the need to follow after her and apologize but pushed the urge down. What Asharae needed now was space so Wren would give her that, even if it did hurt to see his sister in pain. Especially if he was the one that caused it.

“Master?” Nug called out, worried.

Wren nearly forgot she was there.

“Master, are you-”

“I am fine, Nug. It has merely been a long day.”

And the day was far from over.

-

It turns out you can get a lot done when you wait for the border watch to stop running around like headless chickens.

Wren was able to talk with Ser Lennart, he introduced the elf and pawn to the vocation guild. They had a small one set up here in Melve but Lennart said that if they wanted to learn more and expand their skills, they should visit the guild in Vernworth. They had more to offer over all. Nug was particularly excited by this suggestion, any skill she could learn would be put to great use in protecting Wren and Asharae so the male elf promised they would visit the vocation guild after they spoke to whoever was expecting them in Vernworth.

The retired soldier also requested that Wren and his group come back to Melve at some point, saying that just seeing him would raise Ulrika’s spirits. Wren had already promised he would come back so this was one request he didn’t mind fulfilling.

After leaving the inn, Asharae came back from wherever she took a long walk too. They didn’t talk about their tense argument, Wren tired but Asharae held her hand up and shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about it, not right now, at least.

Luckily, they were side tracked by a small girl outside the only still standing tradesman building. Wren’s first thought was that she was lost, perhaps an orphan from the attack but the girl, Flora, corrected him and explained that actually came from Vernworth. This time Asharae avoided rolling her eyes, she could behave herself children, it appeared. But Wren was still concerned, the capital was so far away, more so for a child. He asked if she was alone and if she needed aid getting him, they could spare a couple of coins for the ox cart ride back.

But Flora said she wasn’t leaving Melve without a fruit roborant.

Apparently she was an apprentice alchemist and Melve was known for making the finest fruit roborant, she wanted to learn how to make it too but couldn’t afford to buy any from the local apothecary. Wren was ready to offer to buy some for her but Asharae quickly slapped her hand over his mouth to shut him up, the act made Flora jump back and squeak. Nug was ready to tackle Asharae but the female elf gave her brother a hard stare and said she could make some fruit roborant. It wouldn’t be hard.

All they had to do was step outside of Melve, get some fruit, dry it and mix it with some greenwarisch; the most common herb in the world. It was easy, according to Asharae.

At first, Wren was reluctant to set foot outside the village. He didn’t want Gregor thinking they were trying to sneak away and he also didn’t want to believe that Asharae was trying to trick him into running either. But much to his relief, Asharae was focused on making the roborant for young Flora and even with the awkward silence that had been hanging over them, Wren was able to relearn that his little sister was a skilled alchemist in her own right. She was the one that made all of their healing brews and salves, when Wren was bed bound with his burns from the dragon, Asharae made all the salves that were used to stop infections.

And now she was making this for that little human girl.

Flora had been so grateful, she hugged each of them. Wren smiled and petted the girl’s head, Nug was caught off guard but soon crouched down and turned the hug, it was rather funny seeing the looming beastren knee down and hug the tiny human girl, almost disappearing behind Nug’s arms. And Asharae looked a little uncomfortable but managed to relax, even going as far as to pet Flora’s head too. She was not use to physical contact that didn’t come from her brother.

When she pulled away, Flora was practically bouncing on the stop. She asked the elven siblings to pay a visit to her grandfather’s market stall in Vernworth, he would be able to give them a better payment than the little ring she offered them. Another request Wren was more than willing to accept, if anything, just for peace of mind that Flora got home safe and sound.

Nug then suggested that Gregor’s troupe must have reunited by now and he was possibly waiting for Wren’s return. Wren was ready to agree that they should check in with the border watch soldier but then another man ran up to them, begging for help.

Asharae nearly face palmed when her brother agreed to help with little to no explanation on what this man needed. Even grumbling something about a “self-sacrificing fool” under her breath.

Was that who he was before the curse?

It sounded right, even if Asharae did mean it as a light hearted insult.

The man nearly grabbed Wren by the shoulders, he was only stopped by Nug standing between them before Asharae could do it herself, but his begging didn’t stop. He explained that his brother went into the forest and still hadn’t come back which was strange, the brother knew this area like the back of his hand so he couldn’t be lost, the only solution was that something had happened. The desperate man was sure that his brother was alive but he needed Wren to go into the forest to search for him, he wasn’t willing to go himself though.

Asharae suggested that it might be a trap. That other people could be looking for the Arisen and setting up an ambush but the man tried to reassure them that it wasn’t a trap, his brother was really missing and actually in danger, he was just too scared to go into the forest alone.

And he was terrible at giving directions on top of it.

At this rate, they weren’t getting anywhere. It took some convincing but Wren managed to talk the scared man into going with them into the forest, promising all the protection that they could provide. He was still scared but ended up agreeing, only knowing that if he didn’t face his fears then his brother would die.

They were able to leave Melve without Gregor or any other guard confronting them and once in the forest, things proved to be peaceful. If you ignored the occasional goblin trying its luck but that ended with either an arrow in the eye or a blade in the gut, what worried Wren though was the lack of wolves, he spotted tracks and tufts of fur that snagged on bushes and low branches but no actual wolves. He had a theory and it ended up being proven right, they found the man’s brother being attacked by a small pack of wolves.

Perhaps it was unethical but with his screaming, the group were able to have the advantage over the wolves. Cutting them down like they were sheaves of wheat, the brother was shaken and scratched up but most importantly he was alive. The two brothers had a bitter sweet reunion and thanked the group when made it back to Melve, they offered Wren a worn camping kit, he was ready to turn it down but Asharae accepted it in their stead. On her way to Melve, she explained a flock of harpies got bold and attacked her camp and destroyed her own tent, they were going to need what they brothers gave them. Even if it was barely holding together.

“Thank you again, for aiding in saving my brother.” The man said for the seventh time. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Wren gave his sister an affectionate smile. “I believe I do, good ser.” If it were Asharae stranded in the forest, he would have done anything to find and save her too. “But I am afraid we must be going, our… companion will be very disappointed if we continue to dally.”

He really hoped Gregor wouldn’t be too much.

They said their goodbyes to the brothers and started towards the entrance to Melve. “Ser Gregor was very understanding, Master. I am sure he will forgive our lateness.” Nug commented as she rolled a goblin horn around in her hand, a trophy from the ones that attacked, Asharae didn’t look as optimistic but kept her mouth shut. “He did seem like the reasonable sort, didn’t he?” Wren replied.

Gregor was waiting at the damaged arch as promised and with a couple more guards than he originally arrived with, looks like his men found their way back with no issue. Though Wren wasn’t sure who they managed to get lost, Melve wasn’t exactly a large village by any means. “Hoy!” Wren called out to Gregor, waving an arm to get the other man’s attention.

Gregor smiled at their arrival. “Ah! You’ve returned. Good timing, too; I have questions for you.”

More questions, Wren was hoping this wouldn’t happen until they got to Vernworth.

“First and foremost, will you accompany me to the capital?”

Didn’t they already agree… “I- I have no intention on going back on my word, Ser Gregor.” He answered, confused by the question.

Gregor let out a sigh of relief. Had he really expected Wren to go back on his word? “My thanks. Are you ready to depart, or do you need some time to prepare?”

“Gods, I hope not...” Asharae muttered, wasn’t saving this village from the dragon enough? Now they were expected they to solve every little problem? Weren’t these people aware that Wren and Asharae had their own troubles they had to deal with, this dragon wasn’t going to slay itself, after all. Nug giggled behind her hand at the grumpy elf while Wren’s half smiled, as much as he enjoyed helping people, they really had to get going. “I fear were I to stay, I would end up rebuilding the village with my own two hands. Best we leave now before I am handed quarry stone and a hammer.”

Gregor let out a small chuckle. “Good. Then let us be on our way.” He raised his arm and waved for his small collection of men to follow after him.

Turns out the brunette man was willing to chat more than most as they trailed down the dirt path, whether that was him trying to be polite and make friendly conversation with Wren and the others was a little unclear. He could be just trying to warn the elf without openly scaring him. “The Arisen is the lawful ruler of Vermund. So it has always been.” Gregor explained. Wren had questions but he held his tongue, he could learn more if he let the man ramble. “To claim the title is to claim the throne… yet not all claims are true.”

‘I have no desire for any throne though, I only want my life back.’ There was a small ache in Wren’s chest, he slowly reached up and tentatively touched the place where his scar was. ‘I want my heart back too.’

“Our kingdom sees many pretenders, and they are not dealt with lightly. Best hope you’re not one of them.” Gregor warned, there was no hiding the unspoken threat in his words. Wren’s stumbled mid-step and had to hold his hand up to stop Nug from reacting, her entire body went stiff at the warning. No one could threaten her master! Gregor and his guards paused and waited to see what Nug was going to do, hands on their weapons but Wren was able to make her calm down, he would have to explain to her that she couldn’t just attack anyone that made idle threats towards him or Asharae. “Regardless...” Gregor continued, continuing down the path. “You would do well not to invite my mistrust on our journey.”

The last thing Wren wanted was to do was cause a fight.

The walk to the way castle gate was met with tense silence, Wren didn’t feel like making conversation. Asharae was keeping her head down but her brother could see how tightly wound she was, she might not start a fight but she was flexing her fingers in and out the shape of a fist. Nug was also sulking after being told not to defend the Arisen, it was her duty, if she couldn’t do her one role in life then what good was she?

“Who’s that you’ve brought with you, Watchhead, ser?” A guard who approached them from the small camp site. He eyed the elves and pawn with great suspicion, deciding already that their could be no good reason for them to be travelling with the borderwatch.

“An Arisen… by all appearances.” Gregor explained.

The guard looked bewildered, and a little angry at the information. “An Arisen? Another pretender, you mean?” He decided then looked Wren up and down, judging the elf like he was little more than dirt on his boot. “I see the Sovran’s ascension has done little to stop such charlatans from plying their trade.”

Asharae growled under her breath. Strange, her stare held far more hostility than the Medusa ever could, Wren suspected that his sister could defy the creature’s cursed gaze by sheer will power. Of course, he wouldn’t want to put that theory to the test. Gregor sent Wren and uncertain look, he was conflicted, like he wanted to give Wren the benefit of the doubt but his duty was forcing him to turn in the dark hair man. “Tis uncertain. This one commands the loyalty of the pawns.” He said and gestured to Nug, who held her head up proudly.

The guard couldn’t believe his ears. “What?! Impossible!” He gasped and marched up to Gregor. “You know as well as I do that there can only be but on Arisen, and he’s up in the palace!” He bellowed and pointed in the general direction that Vernworth was located.

Gregor let out a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose to hold off the growing migraine. “I’m well aware of how preposterous the idea is, thank you.” He replied curtly. “However, as I do not believe it my place to rule on such a matter, I would make my report to the capital.” Wren could admire Gregor’s sense of duty, it couldn’t be easy having to deal with numerous people claiming to be Arisen, so many liars and proving them wrong had to be time consuming. When that time could be used to actually fight off monsters and protecting the people of this kingdom.

“If the claim is false, we will be rewarded handsomely for our trouble.”

Oh.

Well, that admiration was short lived.

“If the claim is true, however...” Gregor added. “Who can say?”

‘I can. I have the scar and hollow chest to prove it.’

Gregor ordered the guard to open the gates and they marched on through, there were more tents set up here. Looking more like a temporary outpost but a little under supplied, there were more members of the borderwatch here but not as many, certainly not enough to drive off a something as big as a cyclops should it be stupid enough to approach the way castle. Wren could only hope that should a more dangerous monster come her and manage to over power the small number of guards, that it wouldn’t be able to pass the heavy gate.

The people of Melve had been through so much already and in his opinion, they were being neglected by the local guard outposts. Maybe when they reached Vernworth and sorted out all this Arisen nonsense then he could put in a word to have some aid sent to Melve.

After all, if Wren had this so-called claim to the throne, a throne that Wren did not want in the slightest, he should have some pull to get a few extra soldiers sent to help in rebuilding the very place he became Arisen.

“Hmmm...” Gregor halted the group and let out a concerned sound.

“Is aught alright?” Wren asked.

The soldier shook his head. “No. An ox cart was meant to meet us, yet ‘tis nowhere in sight.” That was troubling. “Aught may have befallen it… Best we press on.”

“Is that wise? Had aught befallen the ox cart and no one has made it here to report its status, is the road safe to travel?” Wren asked, he didn’t like this. And after literally taking a leap of faith off a cliff to escape the excavation site, Wren would like to avoid taking any more blind risks like that. He didn’t want to encounter another Medusa and he didn’t want to stand aside and let his sister and pawn head into a potentially dangerous situation. “I am afraid we have little choice. My orders are to get you to the capital, ox cart or no.” Clearly, there was no changing Gregor’s mind.

-

The monsters past the way castle were more aggressive.

They didn’t hesitate when trying to attack a group of soldiers, two elves and a lanky beastren. The bandits were just as annoying, if not more so.

But there was little in the way of talking besides Gregor issuing orders when something attacked them; Wren, Asharae and Nug hang at the back. The soldiers occasionally looking over their shoulders to make sure that none of them tried to make a run for it and it was clear that is what Asharae wanted to do. “I tried to warn you.” She hissed to her brother. “I said going to Vernworth would not end well and now look at us. They have already decided that you are a liar.”

“But I’m not a liar.” Wren quietly corrected. “I am the true Arisen.”

“They don’t believe you are.”

“They don’t have to. I only have to prove myself to whoe’er they are taking me too.”

Asharae looked away again. “Or they could just ignore that scar on your chest and throw you to the Brine.”

Wren reached out and tried to touch his sister’s hand but Asharae harshly pulled it away like his very touch burned her, she marched on ahead, effectively giving her brother the cold shoulder. “Ash-” He tried to call out but no response, it hurt. His sister was his only link to the past besides the journal she gave him and now she was angry at him. And the worst part is that he didn’t know why, Wren had tried to ask back in Melve but Asharae shut down that conversation just as she did now.

Why couldn’t she open up to him?

Suddenly, a large gloved hand slipped into Wren’s and held it tight. The dark haired elf let out a startled gasp, looked at the gasp and then up and up to the owner’s face, Nug, who was giving him a wide eyed innocent stare. “You are sad, Arisen.” She whispered. “Is there aught I can do to cheer you up? Mayhap I can talk with Ser Asharae?”

Nug didn’t entirely understand the bond between the brother and sister, she was still trying to figure out what kind of Arisen Wren was going to be. He has been nothing but kind to her so far but Nug wished he would let her take on more responsibilities, the elven man was adamant on shouldering all of their worries, he didn’t have to do that. Nug was here to help. And Nug suspected that Asharae wanted to help too, even if Asharae’s actions and words held more bite than most.

Wren was touched by his pawn’s offer to make peace between him and his sister, not giving a damn what any of the border watch may think, he pulled Nug into a firm embrace. The pawn was caught off guard. Wren was a tall man but Nug was so much taller as the elf rested his head on her should and chuckled. “M-Master?” Nug questioned, not wrapping her arms around the Arisen but held them in an awkward circle in the air. “Our time together has been short but you have been naught but caring. I am very lucky to have such a loving pawn at my side.” Wren said softly.

Nug could feel her cheeks heating up. “I-I am merely trying to prove my worth. What is a pawn if not a good and loyal servant to their Arisen?”

The elf pulled away and stared up at Nug. His deep blue eyes shining with admiration once again. “You are my friend, Nug.”

A friend?

“Now, let us carry on. I do not wish to get on Ser Gregor’s bad side.” Wren released Nug, gave her shoulder a firm but good natured pat on the shoulder then started back after the group. Nug remained stunned though as she tried to process what she had just learned.

‘I am… his friend...’ She thought. The word ‘friend’ alone made a comforting warmth bloom within the pawn’s chest, it was not a feeling that Nug had ever felt before which wasn’t saying much. She had only existed for a handful of days but in that short time, the kindness that Wren had shown her had a great effect on Nug.

If the Arisen considered her a friend then Nug would do all in her power to live up to that title.

-

According to Gregor the dragon’s coming had not only stirred aggression in the monsters of Vermund but it was also causing the land itself to become unstable.

The group narrowly avoided a huge landslide as they passed through the narrow mountain path, luckily no one was hurt but it was making both Wren and Asharae uneasy. Such close quarters with little visibility and no way where to go but forward or backwards, it was the prime location for an ambush. And they were getting plenty of those.

Harpies loved to nest on mountain edges, and if their nest happened to overlook a common trading path then it was all the more better. Who didn’t like it when their food walked itself into your territory?

The goblins were just as annoying and perhaps smarter than the ones in the Melve forest, these goblins took a leaf out of the harpy book on hunting and would attack from above. Throwing stones, bottles of oil and burning torches; the little bastards had no restraint which was good. It meant Wren didn’t have to feel guilty when he killed them, unlike the saurians. Turns out Wren had a fondness from the over sized lizards, so when they were crossing a stone bridge and a small clutch of saurians charged them, spears in hand and spitting up the foulest liquid, a peace of Wren felt sorrow when they were cut down.

“Saurians don’t attack unless you intrude on their nests.” Wren muttered to himself, trying to find reason as to why they charged them so suddenly. They were crossing a river, maybe that clutch had decided to make a nest near by.

“Why do you say that?” Asharae suddenly asked, catching her brother off guard.

It has been the first time she spoke to him since their minor fallout after Wren refused her plan for them to make a run for it.

And looking at her, he could see this wasn’t just the younger elf making polite conversation. She was studying him, watching for something Wren wasn’t aware of. “I… It feels like aught I know. Like instinct.” He tried to explain, he knew his words didn’t entirely make sense but it also didn’t make sense in his head either. Just that some part of him knew this was fact.

Asharae was quiet.

Then the tension left her furrowed brow and she turned to keep walking.

“The saurians of this land are more hostile than the ones from where we hail. T’was quite the experience adjusting to that fact.” She added and went quiet again, back to watching their surroundings for another ambush. But Wren felt a small weight lifting off his shoulders at this information, he had been right, they had past experience with saurians from other lands and they were reclusive. Whether the aggression in the local saurians was common or caused by the dragon’s arrival, Wren couldn’t wait to find out.

His fingers itched with the need to crack open his journal and write down this new information.

Maybe it would be a good idea to add in his thoughts from this day forward, if anything to just keep record of his progression and the things he will learn. Yes, that was a very good idea. Every detail was important.

“Blast!” Gregor shouted, followed by a deep roar.

At first Wren feared it to be the dragon again but that was ridiculous. The dragon would not attack a group in the middle of nowhere, even if the Arisen was one of their numbers.

Then heavy but clumsy footsteps thundered towards them and a hulking cyclops came into view.

The beast was frenzied, swinging its arms around with abandon but no club in hand. Had it lost it? The area around them looked like it had collapsed, rumble littering everywhere and blocking the path forward. Perhaps the cyclops was a victim of the recent landslides and fell when the land gave way, the panic it would experience would make sense for its current behaviour. “Men! Take arms and fell this beast!” Gregor ordered, drawing his sword. “None shall stand in our way!”

“Wait!” Wren tried to protest.

Attacking a frenzied cyclops head on was beyond reckless, there was no way to predict it’s movements. One wrong step and their insides would be splattered over the hill side, they had to attack from a distance and make the cyclops loose its footing.

But Wren only had so many arrows and with the cyclops thrashing around as it was, there was little to no chance of him landing a hit on it’s eye. He needed to- If he just had-

Wait!

That wall of rumble, there was water desperately trying to break through. If he just had some explosive arrows then-

‘Explosive barrels!’

Yes! Lying to the side, next to abandoned supplies was a couple of explosive barrels. Wren recognised the red paint covering them as the same ones that were used in the excavation site, and if his fragile memory was right just one could make a wall of stone crumble down. It would make short work of that cyclops and if they were lucky, also clear the path of the landslide that blocked their way.

“Asharae! Nug!” He shouted as he rushed over and heaved a barrel into his arms. “Get them out of the way!”

Nug didn’t need to be told twice, she sheaved her sword and pulled two of the guards out of the cyclops reach while Asharae hesitated. She was ready to charge into battle and even scale the beast but seeing the barrel in her brother’s arms, she nodded and followed his orders, pulling Gregor and another guard to safety. With no time to waste, Wren threw the barrel as had as he could and just as he hoped, it ignited on impact. Blasting the rubble out of the way and releasing a violent rush of water, Wren was knocked back by the blast which saved him from being swept away by the current.

The cyclops wasn’t a lucky.

With the force of the water and impact of the cyclops’ hulking body being slammed into the landslide, shaking the base of the blockage and letting the water wash away the earth. The cyclops struggled against the current, not being carried away because of its efforts so when the water went from its harsh pace to a more gentle stream, the cyclops was exhausted. It dropped down on all fours and was gasping for air.

Now was their chance.

“Nug! Now!” Wren roared.

The pawn moved as swift as a wolf.

Sword in hand, she charged the beast and drove her blade into its neck, severing the jugular and causing the cyclops to cough and down in its own blood. Letting out on final, gurgled roar the cyclops collapsed in the now gently flowing stream and died, Nug pulled her sword from its neck and ignored the sickening squelch. She felt no guilt, it was a threat to not only her and the Arisen and anyone who crossed its path.

“Well done, Nug! You’re technique was flawless!” Wren praised as he jogged over to Nug and slapped her hand with his. What a strange gesture!

Nug wanted to do it again!

“Thank you, Arisen!” She replied happily.

The pleased grin on Wren’s face grew a little more, then he turned his attention towards Asharae who was brushing the dirt from her clothes. “Are you unharmed, sister?” He asked softly. Asharae paused and looked up at him. “My clothes are a little wet but an inevitable fabric rash is a better outcome than broken bones. Are you okay? That blast...” She nodded towards what little charred remains of the barrels hadn’t been washed away. “You were standing awfully close when it happened. Were you burned? Did any of the rocks hit you when the water broke free?”

The older elf took a quick once over of himself and shrugged.

“I fair the same as you. A little wet but naught to be worried about.”

Asharae looked relieved. “Good. Then we should-”

“Forgive my interruption.” Came Gregor’s voice.

The trio had nearly forgotten that there were other people with them. None of them had even seen or heard Gregor approaching Wren and the expression on his face, it was the most relaxed that any of them had seen Gregor look in the short time they had known him. But there was a tint of shame in his eye. “You have my gratitude, ser. ‘Twould seem I misjudged you.”

Oh.

That explained the shame.

“I had taken you for another false Arisen. Goodness know we see a lot of them.”

Well, Wren couldn’t hold that against the man. It had to be frustrating.

“Yet the valour you showed incoming to our aid has dispelled such thoughts.”

“I could not stand back and let anyone die.” Wren said, where his actions really so surprising? It just felt like the right thing to do, to help those that needed it.

Apparently, running into the heat of battle was enough to earn the man’s trust. Gregor seemed pleased with the answer then reached into the small travel pouch on his belt. “Here; take this, as a mark of my trust.” He handed Wren a rolled up a piece of parchment. A missive, perhaps? “Give it to one of the sentinels stationed at the gates to the capital, and you’ll be granted an audience with captain Brant.”

Wait, he was to hand this over?

“You will no be accompanying us beyond this point?” Wren asked, confusion clear in his tone.

They were still miles from Vernworth. Practically in the middle of nowhere and if he had agreed to Asharae’s earlier plan, this would be the perfect opportunity to run and leave Vermund behind them. But Gregor gave him a firm nod, assuring the elven man that he was not mistaken. “You’re free to make your own way to the capital now. I see no need to keep you under constant watch, and I’m sure you’ll breathe a little easier as well, aye?”

Asharae would certainly breathe easier now that she didn’t have humans breathing down her neck constantly.

“Of course, if you’d rather continue to accompany us, you are still welcome to join us on the ox cart. ‘Tis your decision.” Gregor offered.

And it was a generous offer, Wren was seriously considering accepting it.

On one hand the ox cart was much faster than travelling on foot, and it was safer. They would have increased numbers and it would be naive to think that the cyclops would be the last monster they would see on the long road a head of them, that was another positive in taking the cart. They still had a long and uncertain path a head of them, Asharae had mentioned at one point it was highly unlikely they would encounter anything worse than harpies, goblins and the occasional saurian. But if things were more unpredictable because of the dragon then they could face another cyclops or something more deadly.

So by all logic, they should go with Gregor and the rest of the group but Wren had other plans.

“I appreciate this kind offer, Ser Gregor. But I believe t’would be for the best that myself, my sister and pawn continue on our own.” Wren decided. Gregor was openly surprised and a little disappoint at the choice but he would not argue against it, he did promise the elf that he was free to make his own way and Gregor would not go back on his word.

“Very well.” The guard agreed with a small nod. “But for your own sake I recommend you make your way to the capital sooner than later.”

At least it wasn’t a thinly veiled threat this time.

The two men shook hands and parted ways, with the elves and pawn heading down the freshly cleared path. Next stop… Vernworth.

-

Okay, one small stop before Vernworth.

But it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

If anything, it was the fault of the constant bombardment of monsters and bandits they faced between leaving Gregor’s company and making it to this off the path campsite. Had they known that they would be forced to face another cyclops, this one armed with a club, then a rancid smelling ogre and bandits constantly trying to steal the very small amount of gold they were carrying; Wren would have chosen to stay with with the border watch and travel in the ox cart.

It was too late to stew on ‘what if’s now and they had made it this far, even if they were battered and bruised but they all fought valiantly, especially Nug. Always the first into battle and acting as their shield if the monster targeted Wren or Asharae… Wren was going to have a word with her about running into battle without thinking it through first.

Still, Vernworth was in sight and the campsite they decided on was secluded enough that the fire Asharae was building wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention and they could see any threat before it got the drop on them. Plus, Vernworth couldn’t be more than an hour away when they got moving in the morning. In theory they could force themselves to keep walking but the last ambush of bandits really took what little energy they had left and their rumbling bellies refused to be silent any longer.

So the plan was dinner, bed then Vernworth.

Sounded like a good plan over all.

“Tis a breath taking sight, is it not?”

Asharae stopped building the fire and looked up at her brother or rather, what he was staring at. The older elf was gazing at Vernworth, the city was illuminated with who knows how many lanturns and torches, like a beacon to all travelers. It was so bright that Asharae was sure it could even be seen across the sea from the cliffs of Batthal. There was no telling how many people lived there and the number of visitors had to be even large, all merchants ended up coming to Vernworth to make a profit, the vast majority of farms send their produce to this city.

The city was so full of life...

Still, Asharae wrinkled her nose at the sight of the city and went back to building a fire. Even snapping the kindling with a bit of extra aggression. “I suppose...” She replied in a short tone.

After they had built their shabby tents and set out their bedrolls, Asharae got to work on building a fire and Wren offered to cook while Nug took inventory of all the parts they plundered from monsters and counted the gold they claimed from the bandits. If they were lucky, they would have enough to pay for a night at the inn tomorrow.

Wren was sitting cross legged on the ground, removing the unwanted parts from a wild pig they slaughter, he had the journal next to him and was thinking about readying it once his hands were clean of blood but there were other things on his mind. Things he knew wouldn’t be in the journal and he had to know before they made it to the city tomorrow.

“Sister?” He called out.

“Hmmm?”

“I know you must grow tired of my constant questions but pray, allow me one more and I swear there will be no more until we reach Vernworth.” And hopefully when they reached the city all of Wren’s questions would be answered and they would even find a solution to getting his memories back. Asharae paused in her task a second time but remained hunched over the fire pit, her long black hair hiding her face so Wren couldn’t see her expression. She wiped her hands on her breeches then reached over for the flint rock then paused, her hand flexed closed then open before to let out a tired breath and moved that hand to hover over the pile of kindling, sticks and dried leaves.

She muttered something under her breath and a small ball of fire fell from her palm and began to burn steadily in the pit.

With the fire lit, Asharae shuffled backwards and sat on her rear, slight bent forward slightly but with her arms resting on her bent legs. “What would you like to know?” She finally answered in return. Wren felt guilty for even starting the conversation, it had been a very long day and all they wanted to do was eat and go to bed but he wouldn’t be abe to sleep peacefully until he had an answer to this one question.

“Why don’t you want us to go to Vernworth?”

“I don’t trust those people.” Asharae’s answer was very quick.

Almost too quick.

“No, tis more than that. Aught happened in that city, didn’t it?”

Nug paused in counting the gold coins in her large hand to glance between the siblings. There was an unease in the air and she could feel it.

Asharae’s mouth was pressed in a firm line as she stared into the growing flames and her hands twisted and wrung around themselves, whether it was to keep warm or work out tension only she knew. With the meat cut and prepared, Wren placed it on pan and let it sizzle away, not once taking his deep blue eyes off his sister.

“Were you hurt?” He asked, completely serious.

“No.”

He believed her.

“Was I hurt?”

Asharae was quiet as she began to bite on her lower lip and that was all the response Wren needed to know what happened. Someone hurt him, possibly someone they trusted and Asharae didn’t want to be in a place where that person, or maybe even people, were.

He understood that.

“We just... We don’t have to go there, brother. We can find a cure for this curse else where and go home.” The female elf begged, turning away from the fire and looking her big brother in the eye. Maybe Vernworth did hold a cure but that didn’t mean it was th only one, there were other ways and other people that could remove curses. They didn’t have to go to Vernworth.

“I have no desire to make you uncomfortable, Asharae. Nor am I trying to make it sound as though my pain is greater than yours but one visit to Vernworth is all I ask.” In Wren’s mind, one visit would be worth it. Perhaps he was being selfish, he certainly felt like he was, but he would feel much better having gone to Vernworth and finding out in person that the place held no cure. There would be no lingering worry that they had come so close and chose to ignore it. “Should we get no answers or the guards try to stab us in the back, we will run as fast as our legs can carry us.”

“I will cut down any who try to harm the Arisen or his sister!” Nug added, bold and loud.

Her proud declaration made the brother and sister laugh. “Oh, I am very much aware you will, Nug.” Asharae replied, an amused smile on her face for once. “Your skills this entire journey have more than proved your need to keep my brother safe.”

Nug grinned along with them. “And you, Ser Asharae. I will keep you safe too.”

Maybe she was getting ahead of herself or maybe it was the result of three months of loneliness but Asharae was beginning to trust Nug. Usually, she would scold her brother for being too trusting with strangers but Nug wasn’t a person, she was a pawn and pawns were loyal to the Arisen. Even with no Arisen, pawns were generally peaceful and won’t even life a hand to defend themselves if a person causes them harm.

But Nug could be trusted, Asharae was quickly warming up to that idea.

While the group were having this bonding moment, they didn’t hear the rustling of bushes or the crunch of dirt and pebbles being stepped on until a lone saurian came into view, its head raised up and sniffing the air. It must have smelled the cooking meat and come to investigate. Both Nug and Asharae went to reach for their weapons but Wren held his hand up to stop them. “Wait!” He whispered, not taking his eyes off the saurain that was watching eaching of them.

Nug’s pale eyes flicked between the Arisen and saurian in panic, she wanted to attack. There was a saurian in their camp, she should attack it before it could harm any of them. “But, Master, should it strike first-”

“Breathe, Nug...” Wren said softly. “Hold your stance and trust me.”

‘I do trust you, Arisen.’

Ever so slowly, Wren got to his feet and held his hands up to show he had no weapons, he was no threat. A low rumbling purr chould be heard coming from the saurian’s throat, the spikes of it’s head remained lowered so it didn’t view Wren as a potential danger but it was watching his every move.

Making sure to keep eye contact, Wren slowly stepped closer to Nug and reached down to the pile of items she had gathered during the day which was a lot, not just monster parts. He felt around blindly until his bare hand was met with something cold and damp, a fish!

Nug had been very proud that she was able to catch a couple when they were passing the river.

Surely, she wouldn’t might if Wren took one. He would catch a replacement tomorrow.

He took the fish and tossed it at the saurian’s feet. It looked down at the offering then leaned down to sniff it, once it was sure it was a reasonably fresh catch, it scooped the fish up in it’s mouth and waddled away. Everyone else let out the breath they had been holding when it vanished from sight, Wren even dropping down beside his pawn, leaned against her shoulder, closed his eyes and letting out a chuckle. “Mayhaps we avoid camping here in the future.” He joked. “Saurians make for awful bedfellows.”

Asharae rubbed her forehead and turned to her brother. “I was not aware you began reading your journal.” She commented.

Wren opened his eyes and stared at his sister. Bewildered by her words. “I haven’t had the chance. Why would you think I had started?”

“You have notes on how to identify a hungry saurian from a hostile one. I thought you surely must have started reading it if you knew how to... How did you know without reading it?”

That was a good question. Wren thought about it for a few moment then shrugged. “It felt like the right thing to do.” He answered and Asharae when quiet again. It was twice now he did something on instinct with nothing advising his actions before hand, and all because ‘it felt right’.

‘Is this proof that you are still you, big brother?’ Asharae silently wondered.

Chapter Text

Vernworth was even more magnificent during the day.

The morning sun gave the city a regal glow, anyone could see why it was the capital.

Even walking besides the farms that bordered the city walls was an experience, seeing the farmers starting their day’s work cause a feeling of happiness and a little excitement to bubble up in Wren. Nug was excited too, this was going to be her first city experience. The same could not be said for Asharae.

Her pace was dragging behind the other two as she wrapped her arms around herself and kept her eyes focused on the road. She didn’t want to look at anything to do with Vernworth until she was inside the gates. Too many memories, too much angry and too much fear but she would keep her mouth shut until they spoke with Brant. If Asharae was going to be honest, she was curious about this curse too and wanted to hope that the captain had some information about it; if he did then it was one step closer to curing Wren and going home.

Gods damn this city and the dragon, they have been nothing be pain and suffering to the elven siblings since they came to this country.

“Asharae?”

Asharae flinched as she pulled from her thoughts.

She lifted her head to see Wren and Nug staring at her with concern.

“Are you well, Ser Asharae?” Nug asked, taking a step forward. “Should you be feeling tired, I am more than capable of carrying you. I do not wish for you to collapse suddenly and hurt yourself.”

It was a kind offer but Asharae had to turn it down. “I... I’m fine, Nug. Merely lost in thought.”

Wren didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure, dear sister? We can take all the time you need to prepare mentally before heading into the city.” He offered and Asharae nearly scoffed, in an ideal world they wouldn’t be here to begin with but she knew the longer they put it off, the worse her anxiety was going to be. No, it was best to get it over and done with now then maybe hit the tavern and get so drunk that Asharae couldn’t even tell there were humans around her anymore. “I will be fine. We can’t waste time, captain Brant is waiting for us.”

Ah, yes, captain Brant.

That was the same man that Gregor said they were to see when they got to Vernworth, Wren hoped he was a reasonable man.

Hmmm, now that Wren thought about it, he wondered if Gregor and his men made it to the city before them. He hoped they did and that they hadn’t been hurt in the process.

Still there was no time to stand around lost in thought, they were on a schedule. The trio started up again, heading up the wood bridge that lead to the gates, it was sturdy but anything that was hanging over the Brine should be made of the sturdiest stone and not something that could be set on fire. Half way up the bridge, a man in armor that matched Gregor’s marched up to them and held his hand up. “Halt!” He ordered, making the group stop. “You are approaching the gates of Vernworth, capital of Vermund. None may pass without the proper documents.”

“They why leave the gates open so that anything smaller than a cyclops arse could wander in freely?” Asharae grumbled under her breath, earning a discreet jag in the side from her brother. The last thing they need was her sharp comments getting them arrested.

“If you’ve an entry permit, an invitation or any proof of citizenship, present it now.” The sentinel demanded, hold his hand out for them to hand over the expected papers.

Instantly remembering the missive that Gregor entrusted him with, Wren fished it out of his pack and handed it over to the sentinel. “I believe that is out invitation.” He explained, he never actually read it and for all Wren knew it was an arrest warrant for all three of them. Would that be the perfect start to the day if it was?

The sentinel unraveled the parchment and scanned over it. “I see... So you are to meet with captain Brant.” So far, not an arrest warrant. “I shan’t impede you, then. Come with me.” He pocketed the parchment and motioned for the group to follow. Even the entrance of the city was stunning, the homes looked sturdy and the streets were clean of trash and potential rodents, clearly a city that was proud of itself. And just in the distance, Wren could make out what he suspected was the town square with a large fountain in the middle. Oh, how he wanted to go and explore it.

He wanted to meet the people of this kingdom and see what they were like, where they kind like the people of Melve? Did they help each strangers just as Ulrika did for him?

All these questions were put on hold when a tall, broad shouldered man approached him. He was certain a treat to look at, Wren could feel his cheeks heat up at the sight of the man’s handsome but stern face. “I was informed of your coming, would-be Arisen.” The man said, his deep voice sent a chill down Wren’s spine. ‘ No, behave yourself. Tis not the time for such thoughts! ’ He had to remind himself.

“Captain Brant, you should know that this individual fought valiantly to defend the troops. The watchhead told me himself.” The sentinel explain. So this man was captain Brant? Yes, probably best that Wren fight his instant attraction to the man if he was to have a serious conversation with him about being Arisen and all. It was good to hear that Gregor made it to Vernworth safely and even vouched for Wren in person, he would have to find a way to thank him later. Perhaps a gift, now what did the humans of this land like as gifts?

Brant looked less than impressed with the display in front of him. “As decreed by the great will of our world, there can be only one Arisen. That Arisen now resides within the palace. Indeed, he is our Sovran and rightful ruler of Vermund.”

Yes, yes, this was a speech that Wren had heard more times than he could count now. It was starting to get on his nerves.

“It follows, therefore, that this ruffian before us is naught but a pretender.”

That attraction he was feeling before was quickly turning sour.

Brant stepped toe to toe with Wren, sizing the other man up and feeling no fear when though Wren was slightly taller than the human. Granted Brant clearly had more muscle mass. “You must submit to questioning. If you value your life, you will not attempt to flee.” He warned and clearly Wren had little choice. He glanced over at his sister and pawn, Nug was clearly angered at another person calling her master a liar while Asharae just gave him a nod to go along with the captain. That was a shock, Wren expected the younger elf to be the first to draw her weapon and have them fight their way out of it.

But if Asharae was encouraging him to cooperate...

“Lead the way, captain.”

-

The guard house was cozy.

More so than you would expect from, well… a guard house.

It was a surprise that Brant allowed Asharae and Nug to accompany them, were they to witness this interrogation or be interrogated themselves? If so, it would have been wiser to separate them to see if any of them were lying.

Asharae took Nug’s hand and led the pawn over to one of the wooden benched that was pushed against the wall and sat there with the usual frown on her scarred lips but no aggression was present in her body still. Neither was she fidgeting with anxiety.

“I shall conduct the interrogation myself. Stand watch outside.” Brant ordered one of the sentinels that had escorted them into the guard house, the sentinel saluted and left. When the wooden door clicked shut, Brant’s stern expression changed into one of guilt and worry. “I beg your forgiveness for my insolence, Your Majesty.” He pleaded and Wren was lost for words at the sudden change. “If the Queen Regent had learned of your existence, I fear your life would have been in peril.”

Queen Regent?

Why was that title familiar?

Wren was sure he had never met royalty, his nature loving life style was not something that would collide with any social circles that contained nobility. Unless he was sabotaging a hunt for a rare beast that was wanted for little more than a trophy, that felt like something Wren would do.

“I had no choice but to treat you as a pretender, lest my actions draw suspicion from watchful eyes.” Brant continued and it was now that Asharae chose to open her mouth. “Calm yourself, captain. Even if he had his memories, my brother would hold no ill will against your actions… he would forgive an assassin for trying to take his life if they simply apologized.” Well, Wren wasn’t sure he would go as far as forgiving something that was employed to take his life unless they were forced to do so then maybe he could forgive that.

The bewilderment on Brant’s face at the news was almost sad, it reminded Wren of when Asharae first learn of his lack of memories. “Then you have truly lost your memories?” He asked, hoping it was just a twisted joke on behalf of the elven woman but his hopes were quickly dashed when he saw guilt painted across the Arisen’s face. “I am afraid I did not recognize my own sister when I was reunited with her. I am sorry to disappoint you, captain.”

This clearly upset the Brant but he had to stay strong, if the Arisen was in such a vulnerable position then it was his duty to make up the extra effort and protect him. He would not fail in protecting his Sovran a second time.

“In that case, mayhap I ought to explain the situation before we proceed.”

“That would be a great help indeed.”

“You, and no other, are the Sovran; the only legitimate ruler of this kingdom. Some days past, you confronted the dragon in the village of Melve, whereupon you became Arisen.”

Yes, Wren didn’t have to be reminded of that detail. The dragon’s voice still haunted his dreams and just thinking of that night caused his scar to ache.

“The people rejoiced, for our true liege had finally appeared, ending Vermund’s long years of consul rule.” Brant’s face changed again. While explaining the story there had been pride on his face, the man stood taller at the mention of the Sovran alone but now there a shadow of sorrow hanging over him. “Yet not all celebrated your coming. Your arrival would have robbed the Queen Regent, Disa, of everything.”

At the mention of Disa, a shing of metal rung through the air followed by a thunk of metal against wood. Both Wren and Brant turned their attention to Asharae who had stabbed her dagger through the solid wood of the bench in an act of pure rage, Asharae was far from weak but to to have driven her weapon straight though a piece of solid, sturdy wood. It wasn’t just rage behind that action but hatred. “Apologies for my...” She glanced down at the dagger then back at her brother and the captain. “Less than mature action. Continue, captain.”

“I- Ahem, yes.” Brant cleared his throat. “During the time of the previous consul, she acted as a queen in her own right, ruling the palace as she saw fit. When ‘twas all but certain that her son would take his father’s place word reached the castle that the Arisen had been found. To Disa, Your Majesty’s very existence is naught but an obstacle to her own family’s continued prosperity.”

So she tried to get rid of him.

Like he was little more an annoyance and not a person.

“The assassination of the Arisen is an impossible feat for mortal hands.” Brant continued. “Thus Dis chose to abduct Your Majesty while you recovered from your wounds, in order to rob you of your memory with a fell curse and sell you to Battahl as a slave.”

Another screech of wood as Asharae leaped to her feet and this her anger was pointed at the captain himself. “You knew of this curse before hand? You knew where he was all this time while I was wondering around the country like a fool?!” She seethed, arms throw out in reference to the all the land she spent the last three months scouting across and for what? Apparently nothing because the captain apparently knew where Wren had been this entire time.

Nug leaped up, placed her large hands on the young elf’s shoulders and tried to pull her back. “Ser Asharae, you must restrain yourself!” She begged. Asharae tried to push her off, Nug was stronger though, the pawn didn’t want to cause her any pain but loosing their tempers was not a not end well.

“Twas not my intention to deceive you, Ser Asharae. I assure you.” Brant tried to reason. He was aware that learning this new information had to be very upsetting but he had a reason for not sharing it. “This information only came to light little more than a week ago, and then t’was only rumours. I was only able to find letters proving these rumours to be true two days ago.” She might not believe it but Brant shared in her anger, to think that evidence of where the Sovran had been sent was lying under their noses all this time. It was beyond frustrating.

If he only had access to these letters, Brant could have used them as proof to send a troop of guards into Battahl and search for Wren without the fear of starting a war with the neighbouring country. Battahl’s empress was a reasonable woman and had she known they were searching for the Sovran, Brant was certain they would have her aid in the search.

“Still, you could have-”

“I am here now!” Wren shouted, cutting off his sister. Looking at her brother, her scarred lips which were once twisted into a vicious snarl was now failing. He could see the tears building up in her eyes, her bottom lip wobbling and shoulders shaking with all the repressed emotion; he could relate to the pain she was feeling. The last three months had been agony for both of them but Asharae refused to talk about her pain, how could Wren help if she didn’t open up and instead lashed out at others? “You cannot blame captain Brant for the Queen Regent’s actions! I know you are angry but I need you to control your temper, just for now. We can talk this though later, I swear.”

With her fists shaking at her side, Asharae bit down on her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood then pushed Nug’s hands off her and returned to the bench. She was mad at him now.

“Pray, do not be too harsh on Ser Asharae.” Brant asked in a soft tone. “I hold no ill will towards her outburst, I was expecting it one day giving Ser Asharae’s brave efforts. She has spent every waking moment trying to find you.” The captain added. “She followed every possible sighting and rumour of you. With the Queen Regent’s sycophants watching my every move, any and all efforts to find you were have been nonexistent if it weren’t for the rebellious nature of Ser Asharae. She has risked her own freedom.”

Wren turned towards Asharae who was nervously picking at the leather on her daggers. She truly spent all these months searching for him with the threat of death hanging over her head if she was discovered? “My thanks, Asharae.” It felt like such an understatement, a simple thanks but Wren wasn’t sure how else to express the gratitude he was feeling. He wanted to hug his sister. Promise her that they would never be parted again.

“You’re my brother, you would do the same for me.”

He would.

Wren might not remember much but part of him knew should his sister need him, for any reason, he would be there to aid her in any way possible.

But now they had another obstacle to deal with, a more human one.

“And the Queen Regent? How was she able to hide my disappearance when it was public knowledge that the Arisen had been found?” Wren asked. Brant nodded, this was the part that he really wanted to get to. “Following your abduction, she prepared a replacement to serve as the Sovran in your stead. A mere puppet.” Brant practically spat the word ‘puppet’ out like it was poison on his tongue, to have a pretender sitting on the throne of Vermund... there was no greater insult in his mind besides what Disa was actually doing to keep herself in power. “However, with Your Majesty returned, I have no intention of twiddling my thumbs as Disa plays her games.”

“With all due respect, captain.” Asharae interrupted, stepping away from the wall. “Had it not been for your men finding us in Melve then I would have taken my brother to Battahl as fast as possible. All this Arisen and Sovran bul- ...business had been naught but pain for us and now Wren’s life is in danger from not just the dragon but the Regent Queen. Neither of us asked to be put in this position.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong there.

Being Arisen was a duty all in itself but to be expected to rule a kingdom on top of slaying the ender of the world, Wren would like to avoid that additional stress if he could.

But how could he turn his back on this situation?

If it were another that was made Arisen, would they still be alive? Wren believed it to be pure luck that he has made it this far, each step he was aided by another. First the pawns at the excavation sight for keeping his spirits up then Pathfinder, Rook, Nug, Ulrika and now Asharae and Brant, had it not been for those two searching endlessly for him. Wren was sure he would be dead.

And now with the knowledge of this Queen Regent, Disa, what kind of person would sell another into slavery and curse them on top of that? Were it not for the protect of the magick that made him Arisen, there was no doubt she would have had him killed. And there was also a target on Asharae’s back, who else was in danger?

How many other people would suffer because of one person’s greed?

This wasn’t about being Arisen or even the curse that removed his memories, he couldn’t stand by and let people suffer! He just couldn’t!

“Should I stay-”

“Wren, we need to go. If we stay, we will die.” Asharae countered but looking equally desperate, and more scared than anything else. They could die, there was no denying that but so could others.

“I think... I will stay and help, captain.”

Captain Brant let out a sigh of relief and Asharae groaned in frustration. He was going to pay for this later but he would accept whatever harsh words the younger elf had to say, maybe if she got angry enough she would finally start talking. Wren knew he had plenty he wanted to discuss.

“Your kindness knows no bounds, Your Majesty.” Brant praised. “When you are returned to the Drakken Throne, the future of Vermund will surely be a good one under your generous hand.”

Yeah, about the taking the throne and becoming Sovran thing, Wren had no intention of doing that. Helping the people of this kingdom over throw a tyrant one one thing, fighting a dragon was less than favourable but he couldn’t do much about that and maybe lending advice in selecting a replacement ruler, he could do those but Wren was no leader. He could barely keep the peace between himself and his sister, much less be the peace maker for bickering nobles. The thought alone made him a little sick with nerves. Luckily Brant didn’t notice how the Arisen shied away slightly at the mention of being restored as ruler.

“I shall devise some plans to further our cause. Pray, visit me anight in the tavern that we might discuss them.” The tavern? Oh wonderful, they could get a good meal and hopefully a stiff drink while they were there.

“One more question, if you will indulge me a moment more, captain?” Wren asked as the human was nearly at the door, ready to leave.

Brant lowered his hand from the door handle and nodded. “I am at your service, Your Majesty.”

“You mentioned that you found evidence that the Queen Regent had curse me. Pray, were you also able to find a cure?”

Brant’s mouth press in a firm line as he bowed his head, and Wren’s stomach plummeted. “Magick of this variety is far beyond my knowledge. My suspion is that ‘twas of the forbidden kind, there will be no documented cure in the Vernworth archives.”

So there was no hope?

“But do not loose hope. The Queen Regent had to have found it somehow and once we have exposed her crimes, we will be able to focus on curing your affliction.” That sounded like the captain was grasping at straws, a lot of maybes and possibles and none of it set Wren at ease. “I know tis a big ask given all you have been through, Your Majesty, but I must request you be patient. Perchance out investigations will lead to a cure, we can only hope.”

“Yes, hope...”

Wren was very familiar with that word.

It was slowly getting harder and harder to believe.

With everything seemingly handled, Brant bid them a quick farewell and headed out of the guard house but his deep voice could still be heard speaking to another sentinel. “This one’s cleared of all suspicion and has my permission to remain in the capital. You are to trouble the good ser and his companions no further. Are we clear?” At least they didn’t have to worry about being arrested by other sentinels now and had a pass to come and go from Vernworth as they wished, that was something to be happy about.

At least for Wren, Asharae had been sitting quietly on the bench since her outburst.

She wrenched his dagger from the hole she made and returned it to her belt, clearly wanting to get out of here.

“Asharae?” Wren tried. He wanted to apologize for raising his voice.

But his sister didn’t respond, she didn’t even look at him.

Nug looked between them, the pawn was quickly beginning to dislike when the brother and sister would argue like this. It didn’t feel right and it upset Nug.

Seeing Asharae was in no mood to speak, Wren sighed and let it rest. “We should leave too.” He decided and silently prayed that whatever came next, it would be good. Gods know that Wren needed something good to happen to him.

-

They had barely made it out of the guard house when a person collided with Wren, the force knocking the elf off balance and back into Asharae who was trailing behind him and the only thing stopping them both from falling over into a pile of limbs was Nug’s quick action of catching them.

“Wha- Who did-” Wren stuttered out and looked down.

A flustered, breathless young man staggered back from the impact and fixed the cap that had nearly fallen off his head.

“Pray, forgive me but I’m in a bit of a hurry” He rushed out and just a quick as he arrived, he was gone.

Or at least, hiding behind the stacked barrels and unused stone bricks near by the guard house. Not the best hiding place and he wasn’t the most agile person if the way he flailed his arms and tumbled over the barrels was anything to go by. Before Wren could even call out to the boy to make sure he wasn’t hurt during the fall, a clattering of armour, and heavy panting followed as a red faced sentinel ran into view. “Consarn it!” He swore between gasping breaths. “Get back here!”

The sentinel’s head whipped around, searching for the boy then when his gaze landed on Wren, he pointed at the elf. “You there!” He shouted.

Wren gulped.

Hadn’t Brant just ordered the sentinels to leave him alone?

“Did you see an urchin in a cap run past just now? Can you tell me which way he went?” It wasn’t so much a request, more a thinly veiled demand and after the morning he just had, Wren wasn’t feeling particularly co-operative and he also wasn’t a fan of turning young people into the guards. What had the boy even done?

Loitered around a market stall too long?

Surely the sentinels had better things to do than chasing around one urchin in a cap.

“He ran that way.” Wren lied. Pointing down the wrong road that was crowded with a large number of people going about their daily business. The crowd alone should disrupt the sentinel, giving the young man enough time to make a better get away.

Seeing the crowd, the sentinel swore under his breath but was grateful. “Many thanks! I’ll catch that wretch yet!” Then he was off to chase a ghost.

‘This city is far more lively than I anticipated!’

Wren had almost forgotten that the boy was hiding no far from him, Asharae and Nug and only remembered when he heard shuffled and muffled grunts as the boy climbed out from his hiding place, nearly falling when his foot got caught between two barrels. Watching him wobble and struggle to keep his balance as he tried to free his foot, it was like watching a baby deer. It was a good thing Wren had a soft spot for animals then.

He walked over to the lad, who flinched when he saw a shadow cast over him, no doubt fearing that it was the sentinel again but quickly relaxed when he saw it was just the same man that lied for him. “Here. Let me...” Wren spoke softly as he reached over, gently wrapped one large hand around the boy’s ankle and used the other hand to heave the barrel slightly so there was enough space to lift the boy’s foot free.

“A-Ah! My thanks!” He whispered, keeping his head bowed to hide his embarrassed expression. Having his leg caught in a barrel, how humiliating!

Wren hummed and let him go. “Think nothing of it, my dear.”

Wren expected that to be the end of it but the boy stayed. Tilting his head up and then let out a small gasp when he realized the height difference between the two of them, Wren towered over him. At best, the lad’s head only reached the elf’s shoulder. “You’re a kind one, aren’t you?” He asked, his voice just as soft as the look of awe on his face, it made Wren feel self conscious as those eyes took in every detail of the dark haired man. Even up close, the young man reminded him even more of a baby deer with those wide blue eyes that held an air of innocence in them.

Not a common sight these days.

“I certainly try to be.” Wren answered while sheepishly looking to the side.

“T’would seem I am in your dept.” The boy continued as he adjusted his stance, no longer hunched over and trying to look smaller than he already was but instead standing with his back straight and arms held behind his back. He looked like a little lord. Then his face lit up with potential hope. “In fact, there is aught I would ask of you, if you’ve the time to spare.”

This was unexpected.

Usually Wren would be happy to sit and talk with just about anyone but captain Brant was expecting them at the tavern tonight and before that happened, Wren wanted a chance to take a look around the city. If he was going to be staying here for the foreseeable future then he might as well learn where everything is.

“I would be more than willing to take you up on that offer, my dear.” Wren began. “But you see-”

“Aha! There you are!” The sentinel from before shouted.

Apparently he figured out that he had been lied too.

Panic and mild irritation covered the boy’s face. “Apologies, but our chat will have to wait! Till next we meet, fare well.” There was a brief handshake and he ran off again with the sentinel hot on his tail. Certainly the most unique introduction that Wren had ever been involved in and he didn’t even learn the boy’s name, but who was to tell if they were even see each other again. The boy seemed sure that they would and Wren hoped he wouldn’t get caught.

“What an odd lad!” Nug exclaimed.

She and Asharae had been silently watching the display, Nug swift returned to her master’s side and stared down the street that the odd boy ran down. Was this how all human’s acted? It must have been, Nug had been watching all the interactions that Wren and Asharae had with no only each other but the people they crossed paths with and so far Nug came to one conclusion.

Humans were weird

“I’m afraid I must agree, my dear.” The elf said.

“Strange...” Asharae mused.

Wren raised an eyebrow at her. “Aught on your mind, sister?” He asked.

“That boy... I swear I’ve seen him before.” She explained, now that was interesting. Asharae had been to Vernworth before but it was clear to anyone she was not a social person so how could she have encountered the strange young man if she avoided people? Wren was ready to ask how she might have remembered him but Asharae just waved the topic aware. “Perchance I am mistake. After a while, all human faces begin to blend together.” Yes, couldn’t be easy recalling faces when you actively avoided making eye contact with anyone that wasn’t your brother or his pawn.

“We have plenty of time to waste before night fall, what say we take this chance and explore Vernworth? There must be a blacksmith here to unload the monster parts we collected.” Wren suggested. It would be good to turn those monster parts into gold, if anything to take the wait off their backs.

At the prospect of exploring the city, Nug’s face lit up. “Oh, yes! I wish to see what these people have to offer us!”

Chapter Text

Vernworth was full of life.

Just watching the people bustling around, flitting from stall to stall, chatting with friends and neighbours. It was such a sharp contrast to the tranquillity of the mountains and forests of upper Vermund, all the noise was giving Wren a slight headache, he was fascinated by everything around him but it was just too loud.

If he was feeling overwhelmed then Wren could only imagine how Asharae was feeling.

Actually, he didn’t need to imagine.

He could just look at her and know instantly what she was feeling.

At some point, Asharae had pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and audibly groaned whenever anyone would get to close to her. Wren whispered for Nug to act as a shield between Asharae and the people around them, just carefully shooing them back or standing between them and the female elf if they got too close. Having Nug act this way was easing some of his sister’s anxiety.

On the plus side, they were able to locate a blacksmith and sell the monster parts they gathered. The two blacksmiths, Bjorn and Roderick were welcoming enough and didn’t turn their noses up at Wren and Asharae being elves, they paid a fair price for the items that were offered to them and even offered advice to visit the vocation guild. That was something Lennart recommended they do as well!

So that was their next stop and while there the guild handler, a young man by the name of Klaus, greeted them with a warm welcome but explained the guild was facing its own issues. They could not sign newcomers up because their latest shipment of great swords and sorcerer staffs had been stolen by a band of goblins, this was a great blow to the guild as many make users often seek to learn the ways of the ways of the sorcerer and fighters would expand their skills into the path of the warrior.

When asked why the guards had done nothing to track down the goblins and retrieve the stolen goods, Klaus was told that the they had better things to do than chase after pests in the countryside and he would have to live with it.

It didn’t take much more for Wren to offer his assistance.

Klaus was caught off guard by this.

He thought he would have to turn away more guild hopefuls until they either got another shipment or some generous soul managed to find the equipment and hand it in. What he wasn’t expecting was this stranger to offer to do it out of the blue.

Klaus tried to warned Wren off.

Saying that while goblins were small and weak, when they were in large groups they could be a deadly force and seeing someone loose their life was not worth a great sword or sorcerer staff but Wren reassure him that he had experience in dealing with goblins. He knew better than to charge into one of their camps and just hope for the best. Klaus still seemed apprehensive but ended up accepting the offer of help, he took Wren’s map and marked down where he suspected the goblins were hiding. An abandoned mine to the west, the perfect place for goblins to hide out.

He also promised there would be payment for their efforts and in the mean time, wherever services the guild could offer even with their limited resources, Wren and his group could have them.

“Not even a full day in Vernworth and you already offer our services.” Asharae muttered and Wren rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be like that, dear sister. We both know tis the right thing to do, not only will it benefit us in the future but think of young adventurers it could aid also.”

“I am thinking more about those goblins and what their numbers could be.” She retorted.

“You enjoy killing goblins.”

Asharae stuck her tongue out at her brother, making him chuckle. She didn’t deny it. “The sun is beginning to set, we should make our way to the tavern and meet the captain.” She suggested, the market place was slowly beginning to close for the night and the number of people in the square was becoming less and less. The only merchants that looked like they were still open with the blacksmiths and local alchemist.

As well as the welcoming light coming from the tavern and sound of people chattering. It sounded lively.

And Wren worried for Asharae’s anxiety when they eventually went there.

“Will you be able okay?” Wren asked. “I cannot speak to the number of people that will be there but I know you are far from comfortable around humans, if you like, myself and Nug could attend this meeting with captain Brant alone?” He thought about suggesting Asharae rent them a room at the inn but decided against it. A night in an actual bed was more than appealing but if Asharae wasn’t comfortable staying inside the city walls then they could leave Vernworth and find somewhere safe just outside the walls to spend the night.

The younger elf lowered her hood and turned her gaze towards the tavern. “I will attend the meeting along side you.” She declared. “I am not stranger to that place, just give me a flagon or three of ale and I will be fine.”

So get Asharae a little tipsy and it will ease her anxiety?

Wren hoped she wasn’t an angry drunk.

-

The tavern was just as lively as Wren suspected it would be.

Tables were full of chattering people and even some sentinels, a bard was on a small stage playing a jaunty tune on her fiddle so some of the patrons would dance with their friends and loved ones. Seeing the joy on their faces, it brought a happy grin to Wren’s. This was why he chose to stay and help captain Brant, so these people could continue their lives because how could anyone with a conscious stand aside and let innocent lives be manipulated by a tyrant only for their suffering to be either made worse or even ended by the dragon.

Wren didn’t know these people and he didn’t need them to know him.

He didn’t need praise and glory.

And he certainly didn’t need a throne.

All the elf wanted in life was to see people happy.

“Your Majesty!” Captain Brant’s deep voice called out, snapping Wren out of his pleasant thoughts. He was never going to get use to being called ‘Your Majesty’. Brant was resting against the bar surface as a beastren woman busied herself serving drinks. “Your timing is impeccable. I had just thought to call for you.”

“Ah, forgive our tardiness. Time got away from us while exploring this fine city.” Wren explained, he didn’t want to tell the man about their job to help the vocation guild just yet. Not until he heard what plans Brant had come up with to over throw Disa. For all he knew, the captain could have a list of task waiting for them and any side jobs that Wren wanted to help with might be forced to the side.

Perhaps he could talk with Brant and make him understand that doing things that weren’t directly linked to the Queen Regent would be good for the kingdom as a whole. “My good lady?” Wren wave at the beastren tavern keeper. “Four flagons of ale for myself and my three companions, if you may?”

“Right away, ser! I shall have them brought to your table.” The women replied and headed over to a casket to get their drinks.

Table?

But they hadn’t-

“Over here. ‘Tis not a matter for prying ears. Pray, let us speak out here.” Brant motioned for the elven siblings to follow him to the open aired section of the tavern, a quiet area, indeed. The trio followed him and pretended to make conversation until their drinks were brought, Asharae wasted no time in taking a big gulp of her after leading Nug to a bench that was pushed to the wall of the balcony.

Nug stared down at her drink in wonder. She glanced at Asharae who was more interested in her drink and then back at Wren, her wide eyes silently asking for permission. Wren nodded, a kind smile on his face, and Nug grinned back. That was all the approval she needed, so following Asharae’s example, the pawn took a big mouthful of ale and instantly started coughing as it burned her throat. Asharae rubbed the pawn’s back to ease the coughing while Wren sent Brant an apologetic look. “First time drinking ale.” He explained.

Brant chuckled and even offered a handkerchief to Asharae help clean the spittle and ale dripping down Nug’s chin. “No harm done. But we must get to business.” He began, resting his fore arms on the table; Wren gave the man his full attention. “As I informed you when we last spoke, the palace is filled with the Queen Regent’s sycophants. Should Disa denounce Your Majesty as a false Arisen, few would elect to doubt her.”

Figures it wouldn’t be as easy as just walking through the palace gates, showing his scarred chest and lack of heart to prove he was the Arisen. One would think it would be, not many people could survive without a beating heart but if the nobility would deny solid proof just to stay on the Queen Regent’s good side, then they were going to need a lot of evidence to prove her lies were in fact lies.

“Yet if we are to prove your identity, I believe there is no occasion more suitable than the coronation.”

“I thought that gathering the night my brother was abducted was the coronation?” Asharae suddenly asked, earning the attention of the captain and her brother. Brant turned and sighed. “It was intended to be but when His Majesty collapsed, we could not proceed.”

Wait? Wren collapsed?

And there was a coronation before hand?

No one told him this!

“Disa used that night as an excuse to delay the coronation further so that the Sovran – that is, the false Arisen who was now in place – could convalesce in the palace, but the date has been set now.”

So they really were on borrowed time but if Brant had faith that there was enough time to gather evidence then Wren was listen and do what he could. Brant turned back to Wren so he could continue explaining his plan. “The central players in the court ought all be in attendance. ‘Twould be a fine opportunity to display Your Majesty’s power.” Okay, maybe they would be storming the palace gates and making a grand display but what did Brant mean by a ‘display of power’? Wren was no mage nor sorcerer, magick was his sister’s talent and being Arisen didn’t give him any special powers except maybe his situational immortality but Wren was not going to take an arrow to the chest just to prove he was the Arisen. No ser!

“None would be able to deny that you are the true Arisen then.” Brant stated but then his proud expression changed to one of worry. “There is a problem, however: entry to such an event is limited to a chosen few.”

He should have seen that coming. “I doubt it will be as simple as obtaining the invitations of others on the guest list.” Wren commented, not that he wanted to steal an invitation but he could see that gleam in Asharae’s eye. She was thinking about stealing one so best to stamp out that idea before it took on a life of its own.

The captain shook his head and Wren frowned. “Only select members of the nobility and citizens who have contributed greatly to Vermund’s continued prosperity will be granted entry.”

So all the guests would be well known and even if they managed to sneak Wren and Asharae’s name on the list, having no one know them would be a massive danger instead of a benefit. “If Your Majesty is to be counted among them, you will need to attend to a number of tasks.”

It would be that easy to get a genuine invite?

That seemed too easy.

“All we have to do is a few tasks and we will be invited? Pray, forgive me, captain but that sounds too good to be true.” Wren commented, he was struggling to believe that a few good deeds would earn them a place at the event of the century. “I understand this must be much to take in, especially given the curse’s effect on you mind but I assure you, Your Majesty. Public opinion is key to success.” Brant explained, he understood Wren’s skeptical view and where their positions reversed, the captain would second guess this plan too but during the years of Disa’s reign, Brant had been doing something that the Queen Regent hadn’t. He was listening to the people.

And the people of Vermund were far from pleased with how she had been ruling their country.

“Public opinion of the Queen Regent has ne’er been positive. And after the death of the previous consul, it only grew worse.” Of course, no one could openly mock Disa out of fear that their lively hoods would be ruined but whispers travelled well. “Should you have the support of the people, be they farmers, tradesmen and nobility alike, the Queen Regent will not be able to deny your claim without fear of revolt.”

He wouldn’t say it out loud but if Disa’s reign was able to continue, even if she would ruling behind the scenes with either the false Sovran or her own son on the throne, the people of Vermund would turn against her in a violent way. And should it come to that, Brant would not be able to raise his blade to a civilian, he would be forced to stand aside and let the people inflict their own former of justice.

If that happened…

Brant could already smell the copper scent of blood.

Wren could see the horror in his eyes. Despite Disa’s crime, Brant was an honourable man and while he believed she deserved to be punished, he had no desire to see her die.

And in spite of what she stole from him, neither did Wren.

“What would you have me do?”

“The citizenry have called upon my soldiers to cull monsters that plague the land. I daresay ‘twould be a fine contribution were you to accomplish these tasks unaided.”

Monster culling, sell sword work…

Honestly, easy work too but it still felt too simple. No doubt the captain was offering the less stressful job first before pushing the elves into the more political ones, killing monsters was more straight forward that negotiating, after all. And if they were doing this then they could also tackle that job for the vocation guild, win-win. “Very well. I believe cutting down a few monsters is within our power.” Wren mused and sipped his ale, he almost forgot that he even had it.

Brant’s face lit up with a smile but the elf could see the corners of his mouth twitch with the desire to grin. “I thank you, Your Majesty. There are three locales that have seen significant trouble of late. The first is Trevo Mine, to the north west. We’ve had reports of goblins swarming in great numbers?”

Trevo Mine?

That was the place that Klaus said the goblin thieves took his shipment. Wasn’t that lucky?

“Next is Harve Village, west of Vernworth. I believe soldiers have already been dispatched to cull an infestation of saurians there.”

‘Why must it be saurians?’ He didn’t to fight saurians, he liked saurians. But if the giants lizards of this land insisted on forcing Wren’s hand then he would have no choice but the end them, if soldiers were already on their way to Harve then that meant Wren could take his time with that request. Even if they couldn’t locate the nest, surely trained guards could handle a few saurians while the elves dealt with more urgent matters.

“Finally, there is a call for someone to locate a group of soldiers tasked with delivering freight. They were last seen crossing the second bridge on the eastern edge of Vermund.”

Okay, that one sounded more serious.

Klaus and the Trevo Mine goblins would have to wait a little longer if there was a travelling group of soldiers missing. As he marked down these locations on his map, Wren was startled when a moderately sized coin purse was dropped on it. He looked between the purse and captain, expecting it to have been a mistake and maybe this was payment for the private table and drinks but Brant pushed the purse towards Wren. “What aid I can give you is limited but ‘twould not sit right if I were to let you and Ser Asharae sleep in the wilds.” The man says.

“And Nug.” Asharae interrupted.

“Ah, yes. And Ser Nug.” Brant corrected. “Pray, use the coin to rent a room at the inn. You will need your rest for what is to come.”

They sure would...

-

The inn was so expensive!

Why was it so expensive?!

Two thousand gold just for one night and no promises of a meal or bath for any of them?

Maybe they should have gone back to the forest and camp there, at least the bandits were honest about wanting to rob you blind.

Still, Wren didn’t complain. He just seethed internally.

They did have three warm, clean beds for the night and a roof over their head. The group stripped off their flimsy leather armour, Nug needing that little extra help with her plated armour after the ale made her a little tipsy, she wasn’t tired so the brother and sister sat her on a bed and let Nug count out what little coin they had left. It gave her something to focus her hazy mind on until she fell asleep.

“I do not understand.” Nug suddenly says, pausing in her counting.

Wren looked up from his journal. He was sat stretched out on his bed, legs crossed at his ankles and back resting against the headboard; he was taking advantage of this quiet moment to relive his lost memories. “What don’t you understand, dear Nug?” He asked gently.

The pawn looked so confused. “At the encampment, when we rested their the innkeeper had no depended nearly as much gold for our stay. I have counted it many times now and even with the addition of Ser Asharae, it should not cost us two thousand gold to spend the night here.” She explained and threw her arms in the air for emphasis. “I do not understand why the change!”

“Tis because we are two elves and a pawn.” Asharae interrupted.

Her brother gave her a disapproving stare.

Asharae had been quiet for most of the evening, not because she was sulking. She just didn’t feel like talking. At one point after removing and packing away her leather armour, Asharae excused herself to go to the well in the side streets of Vernworth so she could take a bucket of water and give herself a quick wash down, seeing as they couldn’t afford a bath. Wren made a mental note to wake up early and take Nug to the well so they could have a wash too.

When Asharae came back, her long black hair still damp, she sat on her own bed and focused on brushing the knots from her hair. She had been near silent the entire time until now.

And now her words had confused Nug even further.

“But...” Nug began, her eyes down cast as she tried to process the words. “Why would an inn keeper expect more coin from an elf than a human? Do elves use another coin? Is the value different?”

“Humans look down on those who are not like them. They even look down on other humans should they not meet their impossible standards.” Asharae answered, her tone was cold as ice. There was no love lost between her and humans.

“But-”

“Ignore her words, Nug.” Wren cut in. “What she says... tis not that simple.” Humans did hold an air of arrogance around them, even when in the excavation site Wren noticed that beastren pawns were treated worse than the human pawns. Granted all the pawns were treated terribly but there were just some things that he couldn’t forget. And maybe he was being quick to judge but Asharae held a strong dislike of humans, whether that animosity extended to other beastren or elves, Wren had yet to see.

He didn’t think so, she was cautious of Nug at first but warmed up to her. Was that just because Nug was his pawn?

Either way he didn’t like it and he wanted to make a start on easing that aggression.

“Honey sweet for your thoughts?”

Asharae’s brush clattered to the floor and Nug sprang up, scattering coins all over her bed and a few on the floor.

“W-What did you say?”

Was there something wrong with Wren’s word choice? It felt like the right way to start a conversation but Asharae had turned so pale, she looked like she saw a ghost. So picking up the fallen hair brush, Wren rested is journal and moved to sit behind his sister and began to brush her hair for her. It felt familiar.

A silence then filled the room.

It only being broken by the sound of Nug picking up the scattered coins and the brush moving through Asharae’s soft hair.

“I just... You look as though you have aught on your mind, and not just tonight. Since the sentinels came searching for me in Melve, you have appeared troubled. It must sound so foolish to say you are troubled given aught that has happened in the past months, we have both experienced hardship these past months but I do not remember my struggles.”

“Memory loss does not lessen your pain, brother.”

“Neither does it make yours less important.”

Asharae huffed and turned around. “But you- Where is your scale?”

His scale?

Wren looked down at the spot on his chest where Asharae was staring, his tunic was open enough so it was showing his scar but that wasn’t the focus of his sister’s attention, the same place where Wren knew there was a missing weight. But a scale? “My scale?” He repeated and then a horrible pain burst in his head, it was just like the sensation he felt in Melve when he remembered that fateful night. Was this because of what Asharae said?

He had to know.

So holding his head in his free hand, Wren pressed through the pain and asked. “What do mean ‘my scale’?”

There was a mix of hesitation and anger on Asharae’s face, she reached out and took her brush but instead of brushing her hair, she twisted it in her hands. Knuckles turning white from how tight her grip was. “I had thought you still had it, ‘twas your most treasured possession. You ne’er took it off, even when we slept. Gods, I was sure you even bathed wearing it!” She rambled but none of it made any sense, Wren’s most valued possession was a scale? A scale of what? A saurian? No, that made no sense.

Saurian scales were easy to come by for any seasoned adventurer.

And Asharae must have seen the confusion on her brother’s face and she decided to be more clear with her words, letting go of the brush so she could reach out and touch the spot where the scale use to hang. Just below where his scar was. “T’was a drake scale.”

The air caught in Wren’s throat.

“A-A drake?”

“It has been in our family for generations. Tis said that one of our ancestors were part of the founding of our village, worn by the head of the family at that time.” There was a fondness in Asharae’s voice as she spoke about their family, it was the closest to happy that Wren had seen his sister. “The scale was passed down o’er the years, always to the eldest child. I still remember the day mother gave it to you.”

She looked up with a wobbly, half smile. “You were so proud, I was proud of you ... To be so connected to the tales of the dragon and Arisen that mother told us growing up. You wanted naught more that prove you were worthy of becoming the next head of our family.”

His family... Wren’s hand came up to rest over Asharae’s and held it there. The reminder of his family, an aged but well taken care of red scale that had been fashioned into an amulet, that was what was missing.

“I don’t... When I awoke I had naught on me, only rags and a splitting headache. The scale was gone.” Someone must have taken it and Wren had no idea who.

It could have been someone in Vernworth palace, a sentinel or even a servant who thought such a rare treasure would be worth a lot of gold or was it taken by that foreman, Fiska, he was an openly greedy man who thought that a living Medusa made a grand trophy. Lifting a drake scale from an unconscious man would not be beneath him. Anyone could have taken it or maybe it was just lost... it could be anywhere between Vernworth and the excavation site.

There was no way that they would ever be able to find it again.

And Asharae realised that too when her face fell into despair then anger. “Just another thing lost it seems...” She growled out, taking her hand back and turning away. It took a moment for Wren to process her words but when he did, he reached out and gently took Asharae’s shoulders, turning her so he could look her in the eye. “I am not lost, sister.” He said, his tone strong and unwavering. “I am right here. I am very aware that you do not agree with my recent choices and mayhap I am being selfish asking you this but I do need you, I need you to guide me through this kingdom because I am so lost and scared.”

Scared was putting it mildly, Wren was terrified of what was to come.

He hoped aiding Brant would not result in anyone being hurt.

He hoped they would find a cure for his curse so he could be the man he once was, the brother that Asharae had been so proud of when they were children.

And he hoped that when they faced the dragon, it would not end in his death.

“I suppose I am not being a very good big brother right now, am I?” He said with an empty chuckle. “I am meant to be the one that keeps you safe and here I am asking you...” Wren lets out a huff, feeling disappointed in himself, he brushed the hair from Asharae’s face and gave her forehead a gentle kiss. “Time for bed. I shall not ramble on any more, sleep well, dear sister.”

Asharae remained stock still as she watched her brother leave her side, bid Nug a ‘good night’ and then climb into his own bed after tucking his journal safely into his pack. She was lost for words as she reflected not only on the last two days but three months and everything she had been feeling.

From the moment the dragon chose Wren as Arisen, all Asharae had been focusing on what she wanted. She wanted to leave Vermund, forget this forced bond with the dragon and go home so they could live the rest of their lives in peace.

Not once had she considered what Wren wanted even when he told her again and again. As soon as she learned about this curse, Asharae had been acting like her brother was gone and the person she had been travelling with for the past two days was little more than a stranger who occasionally said things that Wren would but that wasn’t the case.

The curse wasn’t making Wren want to help captain Brant.

That was just Wren being who he was, a selfless and caring person.

It was the same person who put himself in harms way in Melve to protect Ulrika.

Her big brother wasn’t gone, he was just lost in the fog.

But he wasn’t alone.

Asharae was with him.

And she was going to stop being selfish. If Wren wanted to help bring the Queen Regent to justice for the crimes she committed against the people of Vermund then Asharae would help him do that. Honestly, part of Asharae wanted to make the woman suffer just as much as she made her brother. And if he was going to fight the dragon then Asharae would be there with right on the battlefield, she wouldn’t freeze up a second time and she would stop bring up going home. It would happen eventually but Wren had been right, they had bigger things to worry about now.

They would go home eventually but first... best to take it one day at a time and look after each other as best they could.

Wren was close to falling into a deep sleep when he felt the straw stuffed mattress dip. His deep blue eyes shot open to see Asharae crawling into bed with him, cuddling up to his side and face buried in his shoulder as she held tightly to the older elf’s tunic. There were no words, instead Wren wrapped his arms around his sister and slowly rubbed his hand in circles on Asharae’s back.

Then the space behind him dipped and two long fur covered arms were able to wind effortless around both elves as an equally furry body pressed up against Wren’s back. “Nug? Hrrk!” Wren choked out when the pawn held them both a little too tight, as nuzzling her cheek against her master’s soft hair. “N-Nug?” He tried again when Asharae grunted at the force of the lanky pawn.

“Remember that conversation we had about being gentle?”

“Oh... Apologies, Master...” Nug whispered and lessened her grip but still snuggled close.

Wren let out a small, tired laugh. “No harm done, my dear. No harm at all.”

Chapter Text

Lower Vermund was beautiful.

The forests were lush and full of life.

Granted there was a strong divide between what life wanted to kill them and what was friendly.

But it was becoming their routine; wake up, Wren would cook them breakfast from whatever animal he was able to catch, Nug would have countless questions over the smallest thing that caught her attention and Asharae would answer them as honestly as she could while Wren read through his journal. Then they would pack up the camp and see where their feet would take them for the day. Just walking through the trees or climbing over the rocky outcrops, it brought a feeling of freedom to Wren and Asharae. And seeing Nug learn from these new experiences, it brought joy to both of them.

They spent just over a week in the wilds, the first thing they did as soon as leaving Vernworth was go after the group of soldiers that Brant said were transporting a freight of supplies. It felt like the right thing to tackle first seeing as they were currently missing, missing didn’t mean dead; not if they acted quickly enough.

So following Brant’s instructions, they travelled straight to eastern Vermund. A relatively isolated area, before they even crossed the bridge that would lead them to where the group was last seen, Wren spotted what looked like the roof tops of a village. He suggested that if the soldiers were in trouble and injured, they might have gone there to recover but Asharae explained that the village was abandoned. The only people there were bandits and she should know. She cleared that village of bandits during the months that Asharae was searching for her brother.

But the bandits were worse than goblins, for every one she killed, three more would later take their place.

And if the village was infested with bandits then that had to mean the soldiers were somewhere in the forest, which is exactly where the trio found them. Under attack from a clutch of saurians and a small number of overly confident goblins, had the soldiers only been attacks by one of those groups, they would have handled it just fine but two was proving to be challenging.

Nug cut down the goblins like they were little more than wheat, she had been using her shield to knock away the ones stupid enough to try and leap on her but Nug had quickly grown frustrated with the shield. So she threw it at a saurian, hitting the beast on the head, staggering it so Wren could shoot an arrow into it’s vulnerable throat. Then Nug used both hands of her short sword, the extra strength was all it needed to cleave one unfortunate goblin clean in half.

The saurian tails were easy work following that.

Once the soldiers were safe and their precious cargo was largely unharmed, they gave their thanks and promised to make their way straight to Vernworth. Asharae had Hawke deliver a missive to captain Brant so they would expect the soldiers, just another reason for them to not drag their feet.

Next was Trevo Mine.

It would have been nice to be warned about the hobgoblins.

They excepted there to be a large number of goblins but no one mentioned that they were lead by or the various traps that had been set. Wren couldn’t tell which bruises were from having a boulder roll onto them or being pushed out of the way of said boulders, either way it hurt. They were lucky no one ended up with broken bones.

Not to mention the number of drops into pits and trenches.

It was not the most graceful mission they have ever accomplished but they got it done, they found the shipment of great swords and sorcerer staffs and while it was heavy, the trio were able to heave it out of the mine and down the road back to Vernworth.

-

“Careful. Careful!”

“I am being careful! You telling me to be careful, shan’t make me mo- Oww! Gods da- Nngh! Son of a whore!” The crate of weapons landed on the cobbled road of Vernworth with a loud thud and clatter of metal from inside and it also landed on Asharae’s foot. The elven woman instantly released the crate and started shouting such profanities that anyone passing by with children would cover their child’s ears and hurry them along all while giving Asharae disapproving looks.

Wren was more careful lowering his side of the crate then lean one hand on its top with the other hand on his hip, the smug expression on his face did not go unnoticed. “Do you kiss our mother with that mouth?” He asked, his words dripping with false innocence.

Asharae stopped kicking the crate with her good foot to scowl at her brother. “Mother was the one to teach us such words!” She shot back.

Wren snorted and looked down at the crate with a calculating look. They were inside Vernworth’s walls now, it wouldn’t be impossible to flag down a couple of sentinels and have them help take the shipment to the vocation guild. It would save them further back ache and possible broken toes. And Asharae saw that idea floating around his head.

“No! We are not requesting the aid of anyone.” She snapped.

“I hadn’t even-”

“You were considering it!” After all the effort they went through, fighting goblins and hobgoblins, being run over by boulders; there was no chance that Asharae was going to let a couple of sentinels, who probably did nothing but stand around at the city gates, take all the credit for retrieving these weapons. And she sure wouldn’t let them take their promised payment. “We just have to-”

“Arisen?”

Any efforts to lift the crate were stopped when a small voice called out.

The group turned to see a familiar head of brown curls belonging to a young child. It was Flora!

The girl they helped back in Melve.

“Tis you, Arisen!” Flora cheered and skipped over to the elves and pawn.

“Young Flora!” Wren said in relief. Seeing that she made it to Vernworth safely brought ease to his missing heart, she must have gotten the ox cart like they suggested instead of risking the long walk on her own. “I am so pleased to see you! I told my grandfather of your generous act, he would like to thank you in person!” Flora rushed out but Wren felt guilty.

It wasn’t him who aided Flora. Yes, he agreed to help in her request but it was Asharae who knew which herbs to pick and made the roborant. Se should get the credit.

“Ah, that is very considerate your your grandfather, my dear Flora.” The elf began, glancing between the small girl and his sister. “But you must understand. My sis-”

“I can stay here.” Asharae cut in, moving to sit on top of the crate. She broke out a whetstone, one of her daggers and began sharpening it in the street.

“But, sister… you deserve-”

“I will not carry this crate all the way through Vernworth then back again to the vocation guild. I refuse.” It was time and strength wasted. Asharae would much rather sit here and glare at any human who gave her a funny look while Wren took the credit for efforts, even if she was the one forcing him to take the unwanted credit, it was all for a good cause. If Wren looked good then more people would support him in the upcoming coronation, it wasn’t like Asharae wanted any of the attention on herself.

Knowing that there was no point in arguing with her, Wren agreed with a heavy nod.

He then turned back to Flora, his disappointment quickly hidden by a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Shall we depart, dear Flora?” He suggested. The girl nodded excitedly and grabbed the man’s hand, pulling him to where her grandfather’s stall was with Nug following close behind.

-

Flora practically dragged Wren through the market square and to the lower level when an elder man with a stall covered in a variety of trinkets.

Books, healing brews, a couple of tins that gave off the tell tale scent of fruit roborant and a box that looked much too expensive to be found at a common market place stall. Wren wondered how much Flora’s grandfather had to pay for it and where he got it in the first place. Flora’s voice cut through his thoughts, followed by the sound of her grandfather trying to calm her down. “Now, now, child. What is all this commotion?” He asked in a loving, patient tone.

“But, grandfather!” Flora tried to protest. “I found him!”

The man, Auriol, lifted his head and gave Wren an apologetic look. “Well met, Ser!” He greeted politely. “Forgive my presumption, but were you the one who gave my granddaughter that medicine in Melve?”

Wren looked away guiltily, he shouldn’t be taking the credit for this. “I was involved in aiding her.” He admitted while scratching behind his ear. Auriol smiled and gave a hearty laugh. “I thought so! Haha! She’s not stopped talking of her adventure since she arrived home. You have my sincerest thanks for aiding her.”

‘Twas not me though… my dear sister’s skills are what made it possible.’

The old man continued to ramble on as he motioned for Flora to let go of the elf’s hand and shooed the girl into maintaining the stall. Flora pouted but didn’t argue. “That girl’s always running off on some fool’s errand or other, for all my chiding.” Auriol explained, his words made Wren think of Asharae. That is exactly how she describe his willingness to not only aid captain Brant but get that blasted shipment of weapons, it would be accurate to describe both as fool’s errands. “Once she gets an idea under her bonnet, there’s simply no talking her out of it.”

That sounded like both siblings, actually.

Auriol then placed his wrinkled hand on Wren’s shoulder, which was quite a reach given their height difference, and led the younger man to the front of the stall. “Now, listen. ‘Tisn’t much, but I’d fain offer you a discount on my wares.” He says, motioning to the odds and ends on display. “Pray, make good use of it, won’t you?”

“Tis a very generous offer, good Ser. I swear I shan’t let it go to waste.”

And he didn’t.

With the small number of coin he had in his pocket, Wren purchased a number of healing brews and a couple of books that caught his eye. Trevo Mine really drained their curatives supplies and buying a few cheap ones now would mean they could avoid going back out into the forest to scavenger for herbs until tomorrow. By then, they would be rested and well enough for whatever else Vermund had to throw at them.

He bid a polite goodbye to Auriol and Flora then nodded for Nug to follow him.

Nug, who had be unusually quiet since they got back to Vernworth and was cradling a simple great sword in her arms. How she started at it, like it was the most fascinating object in the world, how could Wren not bring it up?

“Do you like it?”

Nug squeaked, nearly dropping the great sword, and looked at the Arisen with wide, uncertain eyes. “M-Master?” She stammered, not entirely understanding the question. A kind smile graced Wren’s face as he nodded at the great sword. “The sword, my dear Nug, you are fond of it. You have grown rather attached to it since we found it in the goblin den.”

Ah, well, Nug couldn’t deny that.

She had developed an attachment to the great sword since they found the shipment, going as far as insisting that she carry it all the way back to Vernworth even though Wren and Asharae tried to argue they were more than capable of carrying it if she just returned it to the crate. No, Nug wanted to be helpful and the sword... she liked it. It felt good in her hands.

Swords felt right in Nug’s hands.

She had made the effort to try and use a bow when hunting with her master for food at night, Nug didn’t have very good aim, her arrows kept missing their mark by feet so she was in no rush to touch a bow again. Nug liked going with Wren on hunts though, walking in the woods with the Arisen brought her peace of mind; it made her wonder of other pawns felt the same when they were with their Arisen in other worlds. Not that Asharae was unpleasant, beneath her hard exterior, the female elf was just as kind as her brother. She just showed it in a different way and only to select people.

Such as teaching Nug how to sink and cut up whatever Wren caught on a hunt and how to cut herbs and avoid loosing blooms from the flowers or valuble leaves that could be used in a potion that could save them a dire situation.

By all logic, Nug should feel more comfortable handling a dagger than a bow. It was basically a very small sword.

But, as it turns out, they were too small for Nug’s large hands. So many times she would cut her fingers when trying to help Asharae cut herbs or aid Wren in carving new arrows, they were patient with her and helped clear and bandage any small cuts. Saying she just needed to practice. Nug doubted it though, daggers weren’t for her either. She would stick with her sword, she was good at hitting things with great force but there were times that even her sword felt too light and her swings would get away from Nug.

Then she held that great sword.

The weight, the size and everything about it just felt right.

“Mayhap you would like to learn how to use it?” Wren suggested, breaking Nug from her thoughts and nearly dropping the weapon again.

“But Master! When you gave me form, you requested that I be a fighter, to change would be an insult to your wishes.”

“If you desire to expand your horizons then I shall not stand in your way, Nug. Tis only natural that you would want learn new skills and you shall have my full support should you choose to go down this path.”

“You would not mind if I were to pursue the path of a warrior?”

“Not at all. I would be very proud of you.”

A warmth spread in Nug’s breast at Wren’s support, she couldn’t find the word to describe what she was feeling but it was a pleasant and comforting. The best she could comapare it to was the feeling she got when sinking into a warm bath after a long day of battling monsters, she swore she would repay her master for not only the chance to explore the path of a warrior but this feeling. “You have my thanks, M aster. I shall make you proud in return, I swear.”

“I know you will, Nug.”

There was a newfound spring in Nug’s step as they returned to where they left Asharae and the shipment, once there Wren was pleased to see that his sister was still there and hadn’t been arrested. No unconscious sentinels or mouthy nobles, just Asharae sat on the crate, picking at the dirt that was caked on her boots.

When she noticed her brother and pawn were back, she hopped off the crate and marched over to them. Determination clear on her face. “We need to hire a mage.” She announced with no further explanation.

“A mage?”

“Yes. A mage.”

“I am surprised that you of all people would want to add further numbers to our little group.” Wren pointed out, raising an eyebrow. He assumed that Asharae meant a pawn with mage abilities because there was no way they could afford paying a human one and Asharae wouldn’t be nearly as welcoming of a human following them around and even sharing a camp with them. To which, Asharae snorted and rolled her eyes. “I would rather put up with an additional mouth that you have to feed than one of us dying because we ran short of curatives.” She argued and made a good point.

The newly purchased healing brews in Wren’s pack could have been very useful when those goblins had them out numbered and curatives were only so good. They took time to take effect while healing magick was more instant.

Hiring a mage was a good idea.

And just as he was about to agree and suggest they take the weapons shipment to the vocation guild already. There was loud thwack and distressed moo from the near by oxen stable. Wren and Asharae whirled around to see that Nug had somehow imbedded her borrowed great sword in the support beam of the oxen stable, startle the large animals and the near by stable hand. “Uhh...” Nug began, looking between the sword and stable hand who was trying to calm the ox. “My apologies?”

“Did I not mention?” Wren added.

His sister turned to him, eyebrows raised in shock.

“I gave our dear Nug permission to become a warrior.”

“Did you now? Remind me to stand directly ten or perchance twenty paces away from her from now on.”

-

Klaus was beyond grateful that the shipment had been returned.

And astounded that it was even found to begin with.

He thought it was gone for good and that he, Roderick and Bjorn would have to cut so many corners just to make up for the loss, maybe even going as far as using less quality materials in their weapons but no. The weapons were found.

Klaus remained good on his promise to pay the elves but Wren stopped and explained that he would happily take a cut in his own payment if it meant Nug could keep the great sword she had taken a shine too. It was a strange request but Klaus agreed to it and even provided more fighting armour for the pawn, free of charge.

This made Nug a very happy pawn.

When they left the guild, she had a huge grin on her face but Wren and Asharae made her promise not to unsheave her blade when in the city walls. Their funds took a major hit when they had to pay off that stable hand for the damage that Nug caused, they were lucky to walk way without the sentinels on their tails. Nug pouted but agreed, no matter how excited she was to pursue this new path, she was not willing to put her master and his sister in trouble because she couldn’t restrain herself.

And now they were in the Pawn Guild, stood in front of a very large rift stone.

“Right. Now...” Wren looked from the swirled center of the stone to anxiously glance between his sister and pawn. “How do I summon this new pawn?”

Asharae’s expectant expression felling into one of bewilderment. “You do not know? Did you not summon Nug before we were reunited?”

“Yes, but a pawn was kind enough explain that I had to imagine Nug in my mind to give her shape.” Nug preened at the reminder that her appearance was something that Wren created, she was unique because of him. “This is... I am not create a new pawn, sister. I am calling on one and I am unsure of how to do this.” At the encampment, the pawns there sat Wren down and carefully explained that Nug would be unique to him, while all pawns were loyal to the Arisen no matter which world they were in, they were tied to the Arisen who gave them shape. Wren wouldn’t be able to do that a second time but they failed to explain how he was meant summon other pawns.

“Tis similar to when you created my being, master.” Nug added, stepped forward and gave the rift stone an almost wistful look. Being near a rift stone, it was comfort to any pawn.

“Envision what you need and the rift stone will provide.”

Seemed like an awful amount of trust to put in a glowing rock.

But if it was that simple then...

Wren took a deep breath, closed his eyes and reached out to touch the rift stone. It was so cool to the touch, even through his gloves and then there was a rush of magick through his fingers, up his arm and straight to his empty chest.

A gentle pull and a welcoming voice asked. “ What doth thou require, Arisen? ”

‘I require... a mage.’ He answered. ‘I require someone to keep myself, my sister and pawn safe and healthy.’

Just like...

Another burst of magick and Wren retreated backwards, he opened his eyes and gasped at the small rift opening that appeared in front of them. A figure then slowly stepped out, the fog slowly lifting so the group could see the forest green clothes and mage staff in hand, as well as the dark curls on the pawn’s head and soft eyes.

“Greetings, Arisen.” They spoke.

Wren grinned.

“Hello again, Rook.”

Chapter Text

So it turns out there was no skilled way to sketch a sentient blob of slime.

Wren had been scratching away at the drawing in his beast journal, he had more than enough notes on the pest like how it was only vulnerable to magick and extremely weak to any ice magic or how it proved to be a pain in the arse to wash off your clothes or hair if it splattered on you. Notes were easy but drawing it? The best he could manage was a messily drawn circle, maybe he should have just dropped a splat of the goo on the page and called it a day.

“Unless you plan on paying for us to visit the bath house, you are volunteering to wash our bedrolls for the next week, brother.” Asharae announced, taking her brother’s attention from his journal.

“We have more than enough coin for a decent bath, sister. Worry not… expect for the inn prices for a bed, worry very much for that.”

Since hiring Rook, travelling had become less of a hazard and they were saving more coin than before. Rook’s healing skills were a god send.

It meant Asharae’s supply of healing brews were steadily growing and rarely had to be touched, Nug’s skill as warrior was steadily growing too. She wasn’t accidentally hitting trees and rocks any more because she was still getting use to the length of the great sword, if anything they were starting to see the pawn’s true potential with this weapon. The only issue was that her movements were still clumsy and dangerous for anyone that stood near her, Wren and Asharae talked one night about asking Brant if he knew a trust worthy sentinel that could act as a mentor to Nug.

But Wren is also worried about disappointing Brant because they hadn’t been to Harve yet.

It wasn’t like they weren’t trying, they were but something always got in their path.

Be it people in Vernworth requesting their aid or bumping into people in the wilds that either needed rescuing from monsters and wanted a personal escort back to Vernworth. And it wasn’t like they were doing this for free, though Wren gladly would, the people did repay them in either coin or valuable items such a roborants and elixirs. Sometimes they were even given such rarities like spell tomes, which Wren was adding to his rapidly growing book collection.

And this was their biggest problem.

Making coin in Vermund was hard. Painfully so.

The siblings were forced to spend most nights camping in the forest because the nightly rates at the inn were just too expensive, even selling the parts they salvage from monsters barely covered the fee. And neither elf wanted to go to Brant to ask for a loan, they assured the man that they would be able to take care of themselves while handling these tasks but that was getting harder and harder.

And that is why Asharae was looking forward to being able to wash in an actual bath with warm water instead of the community well in the back Vernworth streets or finding a shallow stream to wash themselves down with a rag and lumpy brick of soap. Wren didn’t want to kill that hope. “Worry not, sister. You will have your well deserved bath, we all need our comforts which is why I am looking forward to lying back in my bedroll and reading a good romance.”

“Urgh!”Asharae threw her head back as she let out an over dramatic groan. Of course, that was what her brother was looking forward to. “Of all the details of your life that you can still remember, why did it have to be those mind rotting excuses for literature?”

“They are not mind rotting! They are incredible!” Wren argued back.

“They are chimera shit!”

“What did I do to deserve a sister with no taste in art?”

“What did I do to deserve a brother with his head in the clouds?”

Wren huffed and reached over to flick the pointed tip of his sister’s ear, making her yelp and slap his hand away. But Wren saw that tiny smile on her face. As much as Asharae liked to mock her big brother’s love for romantic novels and the regular childish debates they would lead too, she loved every moment of it. It brought back memories of their pointless fights as children and better times, having these little arguments meant even more to Asharae now that they did three months ago.

It was a strong reminder that her brother was still the same empathetic, hopelessly romantic man deep down, curse or no curse.

Currently the group were sat on the upper level of the Vernworth square going through what they collected during their last trek through the wilds. Just the usual goblins horns, wolf fangs, harpy feathers and a cyclops bone, hopefully they got a lot for that. And plenty of bottles of green slime. That stuff got everywhere! It was no wonder that Asharae was so eager for a bath, as if the smile wasn’t disgusting enough it acted like paste when dirt got stuck on it.

Speaking of which, Wren looked over at his sister and held back the laughter at the state of them both.

And Asharae caught his staring. “What?” She asked.

“You still have slime on your face, you silly girl.” Wren teased. He then licked his thumb and reached over to wipe the remains of the slime monster from his sister’s cheek, much like how their mother would when they were children. Asharae groaned and tried to push his hand away. “Wren! We are no longer children playing in the mud! I can clean myself!”

“Oh! Then what’s that in your hair?”

“What? What is in my hair?”

“This!” And the older elf launched himself at his sister and rubbing a handful of leaves and moss into Asharae’s already messy hair. Asharae shrieked and tried to wrestle Wren off. “Argh! You childish, horrible brother! You’re meant to be the mature one!”

“I am the fun one!” Wren playfully argued back, using his bigger size to pin his sister down.

But Asharae was scrappy. She was able to wriggle one hand from from his hold and instantly started pulling on her brother’s short hair. “You are the stupid one! You-”

“That’s it, I’ve had enough! Clear off and don’t come back until you’re ready to do business properly!”

The elven siblings halted their rough housing and turned towards the commotion. On the lower level of the merchant square, Auriol was stood behind his stand, hands slammed down on the table top and glaring down at- Oh, it was that young lad that collided with Wren and Asharae when they first arrived in Vernworth; and from the sound of it, this was more than someone trying to haggle down the price of a bottle or two of salburious brew.

Auriol’s face was so red with frustration, he looked ready to blow his top. Anyone could see if they were in such a position, they should walk away and maybe try to purchase what they wanted later when the man was in a better mood.

The young lad wasn’t getting the hint though.

He fidgeted on the spot, head bowed and hands clenching at his side but he stood his ground. “But I’ve got the coin, I swear it!” He protested desperately. “I simply... just-”

“Where is it then? Eh? Bring the coin. All of it. Or I’ll bring the sentinels on you again. Are we clear?”

The boy opened his mouth to try and argue his case again but the stern look the stall owner gave him caused the boy to wither and gave a weak nod. Like a scolded pup, the boy shuffled away to the near by corner and simply stood there, occasionally turning back at the stall with a longing look and only turned away when Auriol caught him staring.

Wren felt for the lad, he did, but without context he could understand the stall owner’s frustration too.

The behaviour the lad was showing was common among inexperienced thieves and shop lifters.

“The lad seems rather ignorant of the world.” Nug commented then crossed her arms over her chest. “Hasn’t had anyone to show him the proper way, I’d wager.” She was lucky, she had Wren and Asharae to guide her... even if they were rolling on the ground like a couple of toddlers.

But indeed, the boy seemed rather lost.

The way he shuffled on the spot while sending looks to the market stall made him look so vulnerable and small, it was a sad sight.

It pulled at a place in Wren chest, the same place that made him pledge his aid to captain Brant and take the time to gather flowers for young Daphne. They would have to see how she was doing soon but right now Wren was more focused on the distressed lad, he already helped the boy before, why not a second time? So pushing himself up from the ground, Wren brushed what dirt he could but it didn’t make much of a difference, he then started making his way to the stairs and Asharae sat up in an instant.

“Brother?” She called out.

Wren paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “I will be right back.” He reassured. Asharae chewed on her lower lip then nodded, it wasn’t like he could get into much trouble a few feet away.

-

The boy didn’t see Wren as he approached, his head was bowed and the brim of his cap kept the sun from his eyes but also anyone that got close.

A bit of misstep considering last time they met, the boy was being chased by a sentinel. What was stopping another sentinel from sneaking up on him and catching him off guard because he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings? Well, Wren didn’t mind playing temporary look out while making sure nothing too bad was happening.

So standing a respectable distance from the lad, Wren leaned down and tilted his head just enough so he could peek under the bring of the cap. The sad expression on the boy’s face would have broken his heart, if he still had it. “Getting into trouble again?” The elf lightly teased.

The lad jumped and let out a yelp of surprise, his head whipped to the source of the voice and when he saw the elven man, the boy’s face lit up with joy.

“Oh, ‘tis you! You’re a welcome sight.”

Wren chuckled and turned away so he could hide the rising heat on his cheeks, this lad was but a stranger but seeing how happy he was to see Wren again, it made his empty chest soar. It was nice to be appreciated. “Tis good to see you, my dear friend.” Not it was the boy’s turn to get flustered. To be called not only ‘dear’ but a ‘friend’, the feeling it gave the lad was indescribable, he felt giggy but then his brain caught up to what Wren originally asked and his happiness shifted to insecurity. “Trouble? No. No, I assure you that I am causing no trouble.” He rambled, he didn’t want the older man thinking that being chased by sentinels or publicly scolded by merchants was a regular thing for him. “Our first meeting, the reason that sentinel was pursuing me, I assure you that it was just a misunderstanding. I didn’t-”

“Take a deep breath, my friend. I meant no harm.”

Taking the advice, the boy closed his eyes and took a number of slow, deep breathes.

Now that he had his thoughts in order, he gave the elf a polite smile. His posture went from slightly stooped over while fidgeting with the frilled edges of his shirt to straight backed and arms behind his back, his stance looked rehearsed. “Forgive my waffling, I promise you that is not a common thing for me. I am merely happy to see you.” He confessed, if Wren still had his heart it would be thumping against his chest. “I-I am pleased to see you too.”

There was an awkward silence between the pair as they both avoided eye contact, neither were entirely sure what they wanted to say. Wren had completely forgotten that he originally came down here to see what the commotion with Auriol was about but the young man suddenly remembered that he had tried to ask the dark hair man a favour when they first met. And now that there was no sentinel chasing after him, he could. “Forgive my boldness, but I’ve a small favour to ask of you. Would you be willing to lend me some gold? I swear you will be paid in full.”

Wren would have laughed if it wasn’t rude and the boy already looked embarrassed to ask a man he barely knew for gold. “You are a bold one to make such a request. May I ask what my gold is to be spent on before I hand it over?”

The boy nodded and pointed in the direction of Auriol’s stall then immediately withdrew his hand when the old man shot him a warning glare. “A trinket in yon shop caught my eye: a small, ornate box of exceptional craftsmanship. Alas, ‘twould seem I’ve not the coin on hand to purchase it. I can certainly procure the gold later but by then the box might be gone.” Oh yes! Wren was familiar with that box, he saw it when he first was introduced to Auriol and wondered how anyone woud have the coin to even buy it, looks like the lad had ambitious desires. “If you’d be kind enough to lend me the coin I need, I would repay every last coin!”

Wren could already hear Asharae in his head.

He was too kind, too generous, too trusting. Perhaps in his own way he was just as naive as the boy asking him for a loan of a thousand gold, even more so now that he had lost his memories but something in Wren’s hollow chest told him not to leave the boy helpless. He had to do something, and gold was just gold. If it came down to it, Wren would forfeit his personal share of the gold and his own payment for a bath, washing in the river wasn’t that bad. The cold water kept him awake and alert.

“Here.” Wren said, handing over the coin purse that was holding the coin for their baths later.

The happiness on the lad’s face, it was contagious.

“Are you sure? Many thanks! I shall repay you anon, you’ve my word!” He swore and even reached out to take the coin purse from Wren’s hand but Wren quickly moved it from reach causing the boy’s excited expression to fall, clearly fearing that the elven man had suddenly changed his mind.

“I have one demand before I give you the coin.”

“Yes, of course, good ser. Anything you ask.”

So trusting, too trusting...

“I would like to know your name.”

The boy hesitated, suddenly looking far more nervous now than he did when asking a stranger for a loan of a thousand gold in good faith. This secrecy should have made Wren more alert and even suspicious but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions, despite both times they interacted the boy was in trouble with someone.

But looking around, as if to make sure that no one was listening in on their conversation, the lad took a small step closer to Wren. “My name is Sven.” He confessed quietly, like whispering a secret.

“Sven...” Wren whispered back, testing the name on his tongue as he handed over the coin purse. Sven’s hands were smaller than his, he noticed, smaller and softer. Even with the brief touch, the elven man couldn’t feel a single callouses.

Nope, these hands hadn’t known a hard day’s labour.

The moment the coin purse made contact with Sven’s palm, any worry that he was carrying instantly vanished. He cradled the purse close to his chest and gave Wren the widest and most joy filled grin, he mumbled out a quick ‘thank you’ and scurried over to Auriol’s stall with a spring in his step. Wren knew that he could leave now but there was a lingering feeling of worry. If he stayed for a few moments longer, just to make sure that Sven was able to purchase the ornate box with no trouble.

“Excuse me, Ser.” Sven began, a new air of confidence surrounding him. Auriol was not pleased to see him again.

The old man let out a growl, resting his hands on the top on the stall and glowered at the lad. “Not you again! I thought I made myself quite clear.”

“Ah, but I’ve brought the gold this time.” Sven’s new found confidence became a little smug as his held up the coin purse and gave it a little shake for emphasis. His smile turning into a tiny grin at the jingle of the coins. “I assume that changes things.”

Auriol didn’t look like he believed Sven’s words. Coin or not, this urchin had been wasting his time for days. He glanced over the boy’s shoulder towards Wren, having seen the pair speaking, and searched for any sign from the elven man that Sven wasn’t wasting his time again. Did Auriol really hold that high opinion in Wren’s judge of character? That was... a lot. But he could vouch for Sven again, so he gave Auriol an affirmative nod and the old man visibly relaxed, the irritation leaving his face. “Oh. Well... Aye. If you’ve got the gold, then you’re welcome to spend it. This is the one you’ve been eyeing, isn’t it? Go on then. Take it.” He said with a dismissive wave of the hand. Auriol couldn’t count the hours, days, that this lad had wasted constantly coming to his stall and insisting that he had the funds to buy the ornate box but never had the coin to prove it. He had called the sentinels on Sven on almost each visit and did think the boy had to be a thief, granted an extremely bad one given how obvious his fixation on the box was, or just very delusional.

To be honest, he was glad to be rid of the box if it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with Sven’s sad puppy dog eyes everyday.

“My thanks!” The boy chirped out and excitedly scooped the ornate box in his arms, holding it close to his chest as he turned back to Wren. That bright, infectious smile still present on his face. “And you. Oh, I cannot thank you enough for this act of generousity.” He praised, the awe and admiration clear in his voice. Wren has spent this entire encounter red in the face from how the lad looked at him but Sven hadn’t commented on it once, maybe he was just being polite. “I was happy to aid you, my dear.” He spoke softly.

And now it was Sven’s turn to blush.

He bowed his head, hiding under the brim of his cap. To be called ‘dear’ again, it caught him off guard but it also felt nice.

To be called something so affectionate and know that the dark haired man wanted nothing in return from him. But Sven would not let his gesture go unpaid. “You’re a kind soul.” Sven said, looking back up at the elf. “Pray, let me return the favour someday... somehow...”

He would find a way to repay this.

And that promise cause a feeling of dread to grow in Wren’s gut.

“Wait.”

Sven flinched and turned back to Wren with a frightful look in his eyes, he looked so caught off guard when the older man touched his shoulder. Shocked that someone was even touching him. “Yes, good Ser?” He asked politely. Wren paused and took a moment to take in Sven’s appearance now that neither of them were in a rush, he was so small. Below average height for a young man, his body was thin and delicate while wearing fitted clothes that looked professionally made from the expensive materials. Mousey brown curls partly hidden under the cap on his head, pale blue eyes that were full of so much innocence and freckles dusting over his pink cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He was not a resident of the common area, any fool could see that.

It was clear from how well spoken he was.

But what gave it away for Wren was Sven’s skin. He was so pale, Wren and Asharae were pale but that was because of their elven blood; Sven was a human and he looked like he had never spent any time or even seen the sun in his life.

A resident of the noble quarter. Perhaps the sone of a trading merchant or maybe even a noble, both fit.

It didn’t matter where the boy was from, all that mattered was that he had this naive outlook that would no doubt get him into trouble. Had it not been Wren he asked for gold, had it been someone with less than pure intentions then he could only imagine what that kind of person would do to take advantage of this debt. He couldn’t let Sven put himself in this situation a second time.

“You should be cautious about who you ask favours from. Some will expect more than gold as payment, especially from a pretty face like yours.” Wren warned but was caught off guard when instead of looking off put or even a little scared by his words, Sven’s face went from pink to red. What did he say?

“P-Pretty?” The lad stuttered out.

Oh.

Now it was Wren’s turn to turn as red as those pesky goblins.

He opened his mouth to explain his words but nothing came out. ‘ Think, Wren! Think! ’ He shouted at himself. Think of anything to explain his choice of words and avoid looking further like an idiot that he already did. “I-I...” Why were words so hard all of a sudden?! Usual Wren was the talker between him and Asharae when it came to social interactions. “Forgive my choice of words. T’was a slip of the tongue, I assure you I did not mean to call you ‘pretty’. N-Not that you aren’t! You are rather lovely, in fact, any would count themselves most fortunate to be courted by such a sweet face. I am not saying that I am trying to court-”

Wren let out a defeated whine. His head hung forward and running his gloved fingers through his dirt and dried slime covered hair, during all this Wren had completely forgotten the filthy state he was in. That only added to his rapidly growing embarrassment.

“Pray, do not be offend if I excuse myself, my dear.” He did it again! “Should I stay, I fear I will say aught more ridiculous. Fare well, my young friend. I hope the ornate box brings you joy.” Oh Asharae was going to be on the ground with laughter when he told her about this, maybe he would tell her this embarrassing tale before mentioning that he gave Sven a thousand gold. Might make her less likely to punch him in the gut or cut his head off.

He was ready to depart up the stairs, back to the upper area of the square, then t hat polite voice called out. “Ser?”

Wren turned. “Yes?”

“May I know your name?”

He hadn’t told Sven his name?

Oh, he was certain he had. Well, Wren couldn’t leave and let Sven believe him to be rude as well as a fool that rambled when he was humiliated by his own words.

So stepping back, Wren stood tall and gave the lad a bow at the waist with one hand behind his back. “I am Wren. Tis a pleasure to have your acquaintance, Sven.” He introduced. Sven grinned up at him. “Ser Wren...” He whispered gently then quickly regained his composure. “This entire meeting, tis been utterly wonderful and I know we shall see each other again. Until then, fare well.”

Had his hands been free, Sven would have waved as he left but instead he walked away. Occasionally glancing over his shoulder and quickly looking away when he saw that Wren was still watching him. It was adorable.

‘I was right.’ Wren thought. ‘He certainly is a strange young man. Strange but sweet.’

-

Asharae and the pawns were just where he left them.

Nug was having a rather animated conversation with the the fighter pawn, gesturing wildly with her arms to describe what Wren suspected was a battle they had in the past. Rook was standing stock still, just waiting for the Arisen to return and give him an order while Asharae was clearly bored. She must have finished taking inventory of their curatives and dividing them out among the group and there was only so much a person could sharpen their dagger before it became redundant.

Nug’s face lit up when she saw Wren approach.

“Master!” She called out cheerfully, waving both arms to get his attention.

Asharae stopped picking at the grime on her sleeve and nodded. “I saw no sentinels so I assume your encounter did not end with the boy being arrested?”

Taking a moment to embrace Nug, letting her rub her cheek against the elf’s messy dark hair, Wren managed to shake his head at his sister’s question. “Sven is not a thief nor a trouble maker.” Perhaps he was an annoyance to any merchant that was selling something he wished to own but Wren was confident in his belief that their wasn’t a bad bone in the lad’s body. A bit naive though. “He was merely having issue making a purchase, tis all.”

“Sven?” Asharae echoed back, her nose scrunched up and brow knitted together. She looked confused, like the name struck a cord with her.

She had a similar reaction when they first bumped into the lad.

“Yes, Sven. That is the name he gave me.” The older elf explained then cocked his head to the side as he took in his sister’s expression. “Do you know of him? I recall you mentioning that you though him familiar and ne’er brought up the topic again.” And Wren decided not to push it further out of respect for his sister but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Asharae was not a social person. Any fool could see that so Wren couldn’t imagine her going out of her way to make friends during the three months he was missing, the closest thing she had to a friend was probably captain Brant and even that was pushing it.

At best, they were allies.

So why did she find Sven familiar?

Asharae spent a moment thinking about it then shook her head. She encountered many people these last months, maybe she encountered Sven and didn’t bother remembering it.

“If he is not worth remembering then he is not worth discussing.” She decided, they had more important, relaxing things to be doing. Asharae’s hair was screaming for a good wash. So with a clap of her hands, Asharae started in the direction of the bath house. “Shall we go and wash this foulness from ourselves? One can only smell of goblin and saurian innards before you begin to feel sick and with the extra coin we made, I may even treat myself to one of the more expensive oils. What do you think? Sunbloom oil or moonglow?”

“Did they craft cleaning oils the same way they make the oil for lanterns?” Nug wondered, jogging after Asharae.

Oh dear.

Now was probably the best time to tell them about that little loan he gave Sven.

“Umm, about that extra coin we had...” Wren called out.

Asharae paused and looked back. “What about it?”

“We don’t have it anymore.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Asharae looked concerned. “Did you loose it? Was it stolen?” Their clothes did need replaced, they were beyond repair so it wouldn’t be that hard to believe that the coin purse could have fallen out of Wren’s pocket or was pinched by a crafty goblin. But that guilty expression on her brother’s face caused Asharae’s concern to shift into suspicion. “What did you do with the gold?” She demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

“That is what I was aiding young Sven with, his issue with his purchase was that he was lacking funds so I-”

“So you just handed over our coin to a person we hardly know? A person who when we first encountered him, he was being pursued by a sentinel? Why would you do that?!”

Wren flinched under his sister’s harsh tone. “He needed my help.” He tried to defend, his voice soft and low. Asharae’s lip twitched with the urge to curl into an angry snarl but instead she took a slow, deep breath. “Very well. What was so needed that you gave a stranger our hard earned gold?”

“...An ornate box.”

He could see Asharae’s fists clench so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

“And how much did this trinket cost?”

“A thousand gold.”

“A thousand gold?!” Any self control Asharae had was long gone. She threw her hands up in the air and stormed up to the older elf, Wren had to order the pawns not to restrain her when they moved to grab his sister. Asharae grabbed her brother by the open collar of his tunic and wrenched him forward. “You gave a complete stranger a thousand gold and he spent it on a glorified jewellery box?! I could understand you handing it over to a beggar or child but I saw that boy, his clothes cost more than all our belongings combined!” Her raised voice was attracting the attention of passing people, some even stopping to watch to scene unfold.

“He said he would pay us back!” Wren tried to argue back, wrapping his hands around Asharae’s wrists to try and make her let go of him. But she had a grip to rival an ogre.

“And you believed that?! Did that curse make you simple?”

There was a struggle but Asharae did let go of his tunic and took a step back. She then ran her hands through her knotted hair, still glaring at the older elf. “Just... tell me we still have enough gold for the bath house. I can let this go as long as we have that.”

“Yes. I have the six hundred for the bath house right here.”

Reaching into his pocket, Wren fished out the coin purse containing their last six hundred and held it out to his sister. Clearly, she didn’t trust him with their funds anymore so maybe she should carry it.

There was another tense silence, this one was suffocating as Asharae slowly took the coin purse and stared down at it in bewilderment. “Six hundred gold...” She mumbled then suddenly threw the purse back at Wren, hitting him right in the chest where his scar was. It hurt. “The bath house costs a thousand gold! Not six hundred!” She screamed.

What?

No.

No, that isn’t right.

They visited the bath house before and it only cost them six hundred gold, Wren remembered this! He remembered that when he, Asharae and Nug first visited that it only cost six hundred.

When it was... just the... three of them...

Oh gods...

It hadn’t been just the three of them for a couple of weeks now. They had Rook and recently they hired a fighter to act as Nug’s back up, and with those two addition, it would cost a thousand gold.

Wren crouched down to pick up the coin purse as the reality of what he did finally set in. His blue eyes filled with remorse, this was not his intentions. “S-Sister? Asharae, I didn’t-”

“Stop!”

He didn’t like this feeling. Being on the receiving end of glare that held so much angry and disappointment, it felt worse than being stabbed with a blunt blade. Asharae threw Wren’s pack at him, picked up her own and turned away. “I can’t look at you right now.” She growled through gritted teeth. “I will meet you at the city gates before night fall, until then leave me alone.” Wren opened his mouth to try and call her back but quickly closed it, if Asharae wanted space then he would give her that.

He stayed on his knees, head bowed down and twisting the coin purse in his hands. Wren flinched when a large hand rested on his shoulder, his head shot up to see Nug staring down at him. “Master?” She began then glanced in the direction that Asharae headed. “What do we do now?”

He had to fix the situation.

But he didn’t know how.

-

Asharae left the city for a couple of hours.

She had to.

If she stayed in the city and one bigoted human made a comment about her filthy clothes or pointed ears then they would become very familiar with the pointy end of her dagger. She didn’t even care if it meant spending who knows who many nights in the gaol, she was just so mad.

At everyone.

At everything.

At Wren.

And especially that little pest, Sven.

Who did he think he was!? Asking a complete stranger for a loan of gold, that was bold enough, even someone as stone hearted as Asharae wasn’t against helping a person that was worse off than them. Handing over food and curatives, Asharae would do that.

But to ask for a thousand gold!

And for a bejewelled box?!

She should have hunted that little mooch down and tore the box from his hands, making it clear that he had no right to ask for a that much coin. Even if it was just as loan as Wren claimed. She wasn’t sure who was more naive in situation, her brother or Sven? Maybe Asharae should knock their heads together and see if that awakens some sense in them.

All these thoughts are what lead Asharae leaving the city through the slums and to the river side next to the forest. Goblins and harpies falling to her blades and the occasional ball of fire and Asharae was finally starting to feeling somewhat better, plucking feathers off the harpies was therapeutic too. Eventually, her pack was filled with feathers, horns and even some pieces of ore. None would sell for much, at best they will make a start on the funds for their next stay at the inn.

She headed back to Vernworth, not wasting time in going back through the slums, she marched up the main road to the primary city gates where she told Wren to meet her.

Except Wren wasn’t there to meet her.

Nug and the other pawns were but the older elf was nowhere in sight.

Nug was sat on the bench next to the ox cart waiting point, looking a little lost without the Arisen near by. “Where is my brother?” Asharae demanded, stomping over to the pawns and letting the heavy pack drop to the ground with a loud thud. Pawns don’t leave their Arisen’s side unless ordered to do so, had Wren ordered the pawns to wait here? If he did, why?!

The pawn flinched at the question. Nug’s eyes flicked between the newly angry elf and the direction of the market square. “I- He-” She began but struggled to find the words, it was now that Rook stepped in to cover for the younger pawn. “The Arisen ordered us to wait here. He mentioned he had to take care of aught but did not wish for us to accompany him, he was rather secretive about the matter.”

A matter to take care of?

After he gave away most of their gold?

Where in the name of the gods did Wren go when the sun was starting to set and most of the market stalls and shops were closing for the day? If he was going to find Sven again then Asharae was going to blow her top.

Or he could have wandered into a dangerous situation.

Brant may have given the order for the sentinels not to bother Wren but it was only a matter of time before the Queen Regent discovered that Wren had been found and was wandering around the city without a care in the world. She might not be able to publicly arrest Wren but she sed unhanded tactics once, Asharae wouldn’t put it past her to do it a second time.

“If I were ask any of you to accompany me in searching for my brother, would you leave your post?” Asharae questioned but she had a feeling that she already answer.

The pawns looked at her like she just asked them to slaughter an entire village.

Asharae sighed and hung her head. “I don’t know what else I expected. I will... Just stay here and I will go find him.” She said, not sure why she bothered telling them to stay where they were. Pawns would never disobey the order of their Arisen.

“No need to interrogate innocent people. I am right here.” Wren’s deep voice announced as he approached the group. Looking much more happy and confident than he did a couple of hours ago if the smile on his face was anything to go by and before Asharae could ask what was so important, a bulging coin purse was thrown at her. She scrambled to catch it then once it was safely in her hands, she could examine it.

It was the same coin purse Asharae threw at her brother hours ago but the weight alone told her that there was more coins in it than before.

Asharae’s deep blue eyes returned to Wren and asked. “Where did you get this extra gold?”

Wren’s smile grew a little more. “You recall those spell tomes I intended on studying?”

Asharae gave a slow nod.

“I sold them.”

“You sold them?”

“And my romance tomes.”

“What?!”

What was she hearing right now? Why did he do that?

And that is exactly what Asharae wanted to know. “Why? What possessed you to sell those spell tomes? And your terrible romance books, you love those.”

“You and the pawns can go to the bath house now.” Wren answered and Asharae found herself at a loss for words as the older elf continued speaking. “You were right before. I had no right to give Sven that gold, not without discussing it with you first, those funds were not mine to give away as I wish. We may not have much that we can sell but those tomes, we do not need them and I got a fair trade for them. I even got coin to by you some bath oils.” Taking off his pack, Wren searched around and pulled out a small number of vials. Even with the stoppers firmly in place, Asharae could smell the flowery scent.

Wren’s smile took a nervous turn when his sister didn’t take the vials right away. “I-I know they aren’t the most expensive oils but I thought-”

“I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”

Wren paused, lowering his hand and staring at his sister in confusion. He didn’t understand why Asharae was apologizing, he was the one that screwed up and this was him trying to make up for that. He was going to make sure he got the repayment from Sven too.

“Sister, I... I don’t understand, I gave our money away and-”

“And I was angry. I have been naught but angry for months now but that is not an excuse for screaming in your face.”

It did hurt to have Asharae grabbing him and shouting in his face but Wren felt like he deserved it. “Will you take the oil and go to the bath house?” He asked, offering the oils again. Asharae hesitated again but did take the vials, it made Wren’s smile return, he took a step forward and reached out to rub his sister’s arm in a comforting way. “Now, I did not make enough coin so I can’t join you but fret not. You know bathing in the river have ne’er bothered me, I will wait here and enjoy the view.” Looking like the weight of the world was lifted from his shoulders, Wren sauntered over to the bench and dropped down next to Nug.

“The sunset from this city has a strange beauty to it...” He mused then motioned for Nug and the other pawns to follow Asharae.

There were no more words exchanged as Asharae lead them away, staring down at the vials of oil in one hand and the coin purse in the other. She thought about what lead them to this point and it all came down to one thing.

‘You overly generous fool...’

Chapter Text

“We could just depend on camping.”

“We would have to find the coin to buy sturdier camping equipment. Our current tents can barely stand against a gentle breeze.”

Asharae dropped down on a near by wall and let out a drawn out groan.

Their money troubles hadn’t good any better in recent days. They weren’t struggling, the elven siblings were very reliant and knew how to hunt so food was never an issue but staying within Vernworth’s walls was squeezing every last coin from them. During their chats with Brant, Wren mentioned that he wanted to explore the lands of Vermund further but Brant said they were needed close to Vernworth in case there were sudden changes in the Queen Regent’s schemes.

So they were left with very little option but to spend the occasional night at the inn, which wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so damn expensive.

The brother and sister wanted to use that money on buying better armour and a better great sword for Nug but they just couldn’t do that. And they had to add Hawke into their expenses now, the bird had been roosting in the guard house but after trying to dive bomb several sentinels, she couldn’t stay the re anymore. And that is why they were sat in the side street, braining storming ideas of how to save what little funds they had left .

Wren sighed and rested one hand against a wall, resting his weight against it. Ignoring Hawke who was resting on his shoulder and preening his hair. “I find myself wondering how the people of this city make a living if we are struggling this badly. My mind is still foggy but I do not recall us e’er struggling for coin this much.” He mused, watching the people that walked past them. Those who weren’t nobility or wealthy merchants, they were common people but it looked like they were doing just fine.

What were they doing right that Wren and Asharae clearly weren’t?

“Tis because we are elves and we keep the company of pawns.” Asharae answered. “The people of this kingdom do not like nor trust what is different.”

“Not all people are like that, my dear sister.”

“The beastren population in the slums would disagree with you, my naive brother.”

He couldn’t argue with that. The number of beastren compared to the humans that called that area home was dramatically different, Wren didn’t like seeing any of those people suffer but even he couldn’t turn a blind eye away from their suffering or pretend he didn’t hear when a human makes a crass comment about how the beastren were ‘ruining their city’. It was hard to remain optimistic and know tthat ttheir was truth in Asharae’s words, a number of humans in Vernworth did hold a level of bigotry in them.

Its what made the good ones like Brant stand out.

But this was not something Wren could fix in his current position.

When he is in his temporary Sovran position, he will focus on helping the less fortunate of Vernworth, just a few positive changes along side preparing to fight the dragon. So no pressure.

“Hail, friend!” A woman called out to them, making the siblings jump in surprise. She stood out from the usual crowd of people. Her clothes were various shades of blue and the material looked higher quality than what the common folk wore, her cap reminded Wren of the one Sven wore. “Have you a spare moment?”

Wren and Asharae exchanged a startled look as the woman kept chatting. “I’ve an eye for people, and my instincts tell me you’re of trustworthy ilk!” She decided, a look of certainty on her face as she moved closer to the elves. Asharae took a step back and nudged Wren forward. “She must be referring to you.”

“Wait! There is no-” Wren tried to protest but quickly gave in. There was no arguing with the younger elf so smoothing out his tunic and leather armour, he gave the eager woman a polite smile. “We appear to have by passed the introductions. My name is Wren and this is my sister, Asharae.” He motioned to the younger elf who nodded in return. “And this is my dear friend, Nug.”

Nug lit up at being called a friend.

The woman’s eyes looked over each of them before returning back to Wren. “Forgive my lack of manners. My name is Mildred and I’m in a bit of a quandary, you see.” Mildred explained and Wren could practically her Asharae rolled her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose, obviously expecting the woman to ask them to either kill a group of monsters or retrieve a missing item that was conveniently located in a nest of monsters. This was becoming a pattern.

But Wren tried to not jump to conclusions.

Even if he had the same suspicions.

“I’m to be gone for a week, with no one slated to mind the house in my stead.”

She... She wanted then to become her tenants?

Either Mildred was desperate for coin or she was a terrible judge of character if she was willing to invite a group of strangers into her home unsupervised for a week. And would they be expected to stay there for the entire week?

This was the opposite of their current problem and there was no way that Asharae would be comfortable staying in the city for that long a period with no breaks to go into the wilds. “To stay in the city for a week would be a bit much for us, my dear.” Wren said softly, it was a kind offer but he wasn’t willing to put his sister’s mental comfort after his physical comfort. “Our role as sell swords compels us to leave the city from time to time so staying in one place for an extended period of time would impact out funds greatly.”

More than their funds already were affected, that is.

Mildred shook her head. “Fear not! I only ask your name to list as a tenant. You needn’t bother yourself with the cleaning, and I don’t expect you to stay cooped up in there, neither.” Oh, well, that did make them view the offer in a new light. “I’d be much obliged if you’d simply consider my home a waypoint on your travels. Sound appealing?”

It actually did sound appealing. Very appealing, in fact.

But Wren couldn’t agree to this offer without talking it through with Asharae first. He swore that he wouldn’t spend their gold so freely unless they both agreed to the purchase.

“Tis a very generous offer but may I have a moment to discuss this with my sister?”

Mildred appeared happy that he was even considering it. “Of course! Pray, come on by and have a look-see when you are ready.” She gave directions and said she would be there all day, preparing for her own travels, then swiftly left. Sending the siblings a friendly wave as she walked down the street.

There was a beat of silence, if they ignored the usual sounds of the city, as Wren wandered over and sat beside Asharae on the wall. Nug sat on his other side.

“Well?” The older elf started, tapping his fingers against his leg. “Would this be aught you would be comfortable with?”

Asharae blinked. Turning to her brother and gave him a strange look. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I know staying in the city is not aught you enjoy. Mildred may have said we are not obligated to remain in her home but to have free lodgings, even for a week, the coin we could save would be great.” Having to not worry about paying for nights at the inn and the time to actually save funds so they can buy better camping equipment, it sounded ideal. Wren reached out and rested his hand over Asharae’s, noticing that she was slightly colder to the touch than he was. “If you wish it, I will tell Mildred that we are not interested in her offer.”

Asharae bit softly on her scarred lower lip, thinking about the situation and what it could offer. She may not like the city but... “Tis a generous offer.” She agreed. Then gave her brother a firm nod. “We would be fools to turn it down. As you say, we will be able to save coin in this week. Coin that will benefit us greatly.”

Wren wasn’t expecting this out come.

But he wouldn’t question it.

Instead, a wide, happy grin spread across his face and laced his fingers with Asharae’s. “Then let us not dally, we have a temporary home to view.”

-

“I thought she said it was a home, not a shed.”

So their temporary home wasn’t the largest.

It wasn’t even a medium.

It was a small, single roomed house with one bed, a small cooking area, a table for them to eat at and a chest to store what little possessions they had. Maybe now they could give their clothes a good wash and dry. “I wouldn’t call it a shed, tis more...” “Ouch!”

Wren whipped around to see that Nug had bumped her head on the door frame.

“Cozy?” He tried, carefully leading Nug inside and having her sit on the lone bed.

“I must remember to visit the city morgue and tell them to advertise their coffins as ‘cozy’ instead of confining.” Asharae replied with a roll of her eyes. She sat down on one of the stools at the table then heaved her pack onto the table and began removing both full and empty bottles, along with fruits and herbs. “It will be easier to make curatives here.” She shooed Hawke from her own shoulder, only looking up from her herb collection to saw the falcon flutter up to the rafters of the home and make herself comfortable there. “At least one of us is able to make themselves at home.”

“Perchance we should follow Hawke’s example.” Wren suggested then with a clap of his hands, he took a small of sack of dried fish from Nug. The pawn had recently taken an interest in fishing, all the fish they caught were by her own large hands and Wren would like to be able to by her an actual fishing rod but obviously they couldn’t afford to do that. Hopefully, this week would change that.

He removed four fish from the sack and passed them to Nug. “Here. Can you descale these for me?”

“Yes, Master! I will make swift and clean of these!”

Wren let out a soft laugh at the eagerness in his pawn. Nug had become more interested in learning how to cook after learning that Asharae knew how to use dried and shredded fish in a roborant. She wasn’t ready to actually cook, the siblings learned that the hard way after one night where they trusted Nug to prepare dinner and she used a rotten slab of meat.

They discovered that night that even the Arisen could fall victim to food poisoning.

“And while you do that, I will take the rest of these fish to the market and sell them. I’ve heard the local alchemist is always looking for dried fish to make roborant.” Wren announced, throwing the sack over his shoulder and headed out of the door but not before Asharae could shout out. “Don’t give anymore of our coin to a well dressed urgent! I don’t care how helpless they make themselves seem!”

“Don’t worry! This coin is firmly in our pockets!”

Besides, what were the odds he would see Sven again this soon after the ornate box incident?

-

Turns out, the odds were fairly good.

Wren had only managed to side step a bustling group of people that were crowded around either the food stalls or watching the story telling beggar that was stood in front of the fountain a strange looking beggar actually. Awfully clean skinned compared to his ragged clothes. But that was not Wren’s main focus, it was the person perched on the edge on the opposite of the fountain.

It was Sven.

Even sat on the wall of the fountain, he was bent forward and turning to look around the statue to get a look at the crowd the beggar was gathering. From this distance, Wren could see the longing look on his face, he wanted to join the group but was holding back.

And the elf noticed that too.

How Sven didn’t wanted to be caught by the sentinel and when buying the ornate box, he was secretive and anxious at just telling the older man his name.

He should let the lad enjoy whatever it was he was doing and focus on selling the fish. Yes, that’s what he told Asharae and Nug he was going to do.

But…

Wouldn’t it be rude to not say ‘hello’ to Sven?

A quick greeting then he would go on his way. Just to make sure the boy wasn’t in trouble again.

So readjusting the sack on his shoulder, being mindful that it didn’t catch on his bow or quiver and tear, and headed towards Sven. “Careful you don’t fall in.” Wren commented and Sven very nearly did, startled at the sudden arrival of the elf. Luckily, Wren was quick and grabbed his arm before he could land face first in the shallow water, the water might not be deep enough or wild enough to invoke the power of the Brine but Sven would end up with a sore nose from the fall and a soaked outfit.

“We meet again!” Sven chirped out happily as he was moved into a more comfortable position. Less likely to fall again. “Truth be told, I was hoping we might.”

The confession cause a strange happiness to bubble up in Wren’s chest and his cheeks to heat up. It was nothing, he was just flattered that the young man was happy to see him, just as he was to see Sven. “As was I, though... I had hoped it would not involve me almost causing you harm. Apologies for startling you.”

Sven waved his hand at the apology. “T’was naught but an accident. No harm done.” Placing his hands on his knees, clasped politely, and looking like a little lord just as he did the other day; his forgiving expression turned to a more sheepish one. Pale eyes flickering between the elf and anywhere else. “Would you care to stay and talk a moment?” Sven asked, the hope in his voice rang loud and clear.

And Wren knew he should say ‘no’.

Politely decline the request and explain that he had to sell the dried fish then head home and get started making dinner before Nug got a little too ambitious and tried her hand at cooking again. But Sven looked so hopeful, like just asking for Wren to take a moment to sit and have a conversation was a colossal task.

“I would be honoured.” Wren agreed. He would apologies to Asharae later.

And the excited grin on Sven’s face cemented Wren’s want to stay a little longer.

Sven scooted over and patted the spot on the fountain wall beside him. “I’m glad. Sit down, won’t you?” He offered.

Wren shrugged off the sack and left it resting against the wall as he sat down, he noticed the way the boy stared at it. “A-Ah, tis only dried fish. Naught exciting.” The elf explained, looking away bashfully but had no idea why he suddenly felt shy, he had no reason to be embarrassed about needing to sell something. It was a perfectly everyday thing to do, especially for merchants, not that the elven siblings were merchants. Though with the amount of monster parts and curatives they have sold lately, they might as well be.

Still, even being told it was just fish in the sack. Sven looked fascinated.

“Fish? You must be a merchant then, or perchance, an independent fisherman? Are you planning on selling it? Do you shop often?” Each question tumbled out of Sven’s mouth so fast that Wren almost didn’t catch them all. The lad must have noticed the slightly overwhelmed look on the elf’s face and realized he was rambling again, a bright red flooded across his freckled cheeks and he drew back, bowing his head so his cap with hide his blushing face. “Forgive me. T’was rude to ask such questions uninvited, I am clearly taking up your time as it is and to waste it further by asking such silly questions... Oh, I am waffling on again, aren’t I?”

“I find it endearing.” Wren replied. And he meant it.

Sven peeked back up, smiling. “You are much too kind.”

“You are not the first to tell me that.”

He heard enough times from his sister that he was too nice. Still, there was no harm indulging the lad’s questions, they were perfectly harmless and he did want to have a conversation. “Now to address your previous inquiry.” Wren began with an overly dramatic gesture of stroking his chin as if in deep thought. It made Sven laugh and it caused that warm feeling in Wren’s chest to grow.

“No, I am not a merchant nor a fisherman though I am no stranger to fishing as a pass time.”

Sven opened his mouth to ask another question but quickly closed it again, letting the dark haired man continue.

“Yes, I do plan on selling the fish in the sack. The local alchemist can use them to make curatives and yes, I do shop often. Though my dear sister would like it if I showed some restraint when purchasing certain items.” Sven didn’t seem to pick up on the little teasing about the ornate box, he was too enthralled by Wren’s words to even notice. Actually, his investment into the elven man’s life was a rather odd, how dull must the boy’s life be if he was so captivated by the mere idea of browsing in the market place?

“I take it you do not get out to the market that much?” Wren asked.

Sven deflated a little as he shook his head.

It was a sad sight.

Seeing how he would draw shapes on the cold stone of the fountain with his finger, Wren could tell that even though Sven didn’t get out much, this spot had a place in his heart. “I’m rather fond of this place.” Sven confessed then returned his gaze back to the people passing by. There was a look in his eye. A look of wonder, happiness and... envy? “I ne’er imagined a city could be like this. So full of excitement, so... alive.”

Strange, Wren and Asharae would say the same thing about the the forests outside the city.

Most believe because they are void of human settlements that it meant there was no life. Oh, how wrong they were...

The forests, water sides and mountain paths were filled with life. Both of the monster variety and regular animals just trying to make it through each day, the only difference was that one place felt more freeing while the other was closed off with walls and heavy gates.

“And how could I have?” Sven continued, pulling Wren back into the conversation. He hadn’t even realized that he was lost in his own thoughts. “In all my life, I’ve hardly left the palace. My mother is quite... strict. You understand.”

The palace? So he was of the nobility!

Asharae was going to get a kick out of this.

Or she might kick a hole in the wall when she realizes that one of the noble stock asked them for a loan.

Probably for best not to tell her until they were in a place where she couldn’t break anything they may need to pay for.

Pushing his sister from his mind, Wren could see the sadness on Sven’s face when he mentioned his mother. He could also see the way the his brow pinched in frustration. To have such an overbearing parent, Wren’s memories of his own mother were vague at best and he only had his journals for reference along with whatever stories his sister would tell him. He was able to gather that she was a good woman and she loved them.

Wren was sure that the over protectiveness that Sven was experiencing was coming from the same kind of love.

Though he could relate to having an overbearing sister and pawn.

Thinking about his mother now, it caused a throbbing pain to slowly build in the back of Wren’s head. It was making his vision a little unfocused. So reaching behind his head as casually as he could, he gently massaged his fingers against where the pain was coming from. It didn’t help.

“I imagine tis not easy.” He whispered. The frown on his face only grew when Sven nodded.

“Oft did I long for the taste of a normal life. Even aught as simple as going shopping for myself. My mother has always procured things I covet for me, so to pick out an item and obtain it with my own hands held a... certain appeal.” Ah, that explained his fixation on the ornate box! “Which reminds me, I owe you a debt.” Reaching into his pocket, Sven fished out a coin purse that was noticeably smaller than the one Wren gave him to purchase that ornate box. And going by the guilty look on Sven’s face, he knew it was lacking. “I fear I cannot repay the full sum all at once, I have rather little in the way of spending money.”

‘I beg to differ!’ Asharae’s voice rang in his head.

Even in his mind, she was causing an argument.

“Pray, take this for now.” Sven practically pushed the coin purse into the man’s large hands. As though if he let Wren get a word in, he might reject the payment. “You’ll have more when next we meet.”

“This ‘dept’ does not have a time limit, my dear. I don’t wish for you to loose sleep o’er the matter.” The boy may be of nobility but if his words were true then he didn’t have access to any of his families funds, that was odd to say the least. Usually the wealthy couldn’t wait to throw their coin around even it was just a show of status but if Sven couldn’t get his hands on the coin for the ornate box or to pay back Wren in one go, it made the elf wonder why.

He didn’t want to believe that there were darker reasons behind it.

Maybe it was as the lad said, his mother was strict and that extended to him having gold to spend.

A bit constricting if you asked him.

What did she think Sven was going to do if he had a little extra coin to throw around? Hop on the first ox cart heading out of the city and never return?

Sven’s hands lingered on Wren’s, his fingertips brushing over the tiny scars and calloses. He wanted to ask how the elf got them but also reveled in the skin to skin contact, it was so nice, so new. And realizing that he had practically been holding the older man’s hands in public, Sven quickly released them and turned away with a bashful expression on his face. “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.” As long as Sven had this debt then it was a reason to see Wren.

Once the elf found out the truth, he wouldn’t...

Sven just wanted to enjoy this companionship for however long it would last.

He stood up, smoothed out the smallest wrinkles on his britches and shirt, and gave Wren a small bow. “Till then, fare well.” There was no time for the elf to say his own ‘goodbye’ because Sven turned on his heel and jogged away, up the steps and into the side streets between the Pawn Guild and inn.

‘A little, palace lordling...’ Wren mused then chuckled at the thought.

How fitting.

-

Wren didn’t know whether to be offended of not.

No, wait, he did know.

He was offended.

The alchemist who they had been providing dried fish for had tried to cheat him out of coin when he saw Wren approach without his sister standing at his side like a warg waiting to pounce and rip someone’s throat out. Asharae was an intimidating force to anyone that did business with her but that didn’t mean when she wasn’t around that Wren was a push over.

Yes, he would give a cold person the shirt off his back but he knew when he was being scammed too. And the alchemist was trying to scam him.

Now, unlike his wonderful sister, Wren’s first choice of action was not violence.

Even if the clenched fist on top of the table top begged to differ.

“I am afraid I will have to decline your generous offer.” He gritted out, forcing himself to say the word ‘generous’, then lifted the sack of dried fish. “My sister and I have been regular suppliers for a some time now and by your own words, your sales have improved because we keep your stocks full. For you to decide to pay us less with now warning before hand, you are forcing my hand to reconsider even continue out agreement.”

The alchemist had the gall to cross his arms over his chest and look down his nose at Wren. Never mind the fact that Wren towered over the old human and despite his preference for archery, could break a few bones in the man’s body if he was so inclined.

“I can assure you, good Ser. Three hundred coin, now I advise you stop wasting my time, we both know you will accept it.” He really believed that, didn’t he? If that smug look on his face was anything to go by, you would think he had Wren by the short hairs. “You will not find a better offer in all of Vermund than what I am putting on the table. Times are hard what with the dragon looming o’er our heads and outside trading isn’t what it use to be.”

And neither was trading within the city walls.

Maybe it was because of the dragon or just a bad turn in nature but the fishing boats of Vernworth were nearly always docked, the sailors and fishermen telling stories of how the currents would suddenly change and force them back to the shore if they got to far into the open waters. So that left only local fishing in the waters surrounding the cliffs but if the current gossip was true then the fish in the shallow waters were harder to find than dappled ore that didn’t come from a golem. No fish meant not trade and no trade meant no ingredients for any aspiring alchemists or healers, nor food.

Not unless you were willing to take a fishing pole and sit for hours on end at the river sides.

And none of the merchants were doing that.

So yes, Wren was going to call this man’s bluff.

“Very well.” He decided.

For a split second the alchemist thought he got his way but when Wren grabbed the sack of fish and turned to leave, he started spluttering out words. “W-Wait! Halt! What do you think you are doing?!”

With a look of false innocence on his face, Wren glanced over his shoulder back at the alchemist.

“I am doing as you suggested, finding a new buyer seeing as you are not willing to honour our deal. Tis a shame, really, I thought our deal was mutually beneficial but if times are as bad as you say, how long until your price go up?” He let out a worn out sigh, a little dramatic but he had to get the message across that he couldn’t be taken advantage of. “I will no longer waste your time, my good man. Consider this our last conversation and trade deal, I hope future deals are more favourable for you.”

Again, Wren turned to leave and barely got two steps away when the alchemist was calling for him again. Not bothering to hide the desperation in his voice this time around.

“N-Now, there is no need to be so hasty! Perchance we can continue our previous deal?”

‘And you think me a pushover, dear sister.’

Maybe it was a little underhanded but Wren was not a man that would stand for being taken advantage of. People who did not keep their word rubbed him in the worst possible way, what kind of world did they live in if promises were constantly broken?

Asharae would say a realistic one but Wren didn’t agree with that. He full heartedly believed that people could be honourable if they were held to a high enough standard so because he had this self imposed high standard on himself, maybe Wren should have felt bad for pushing the new deal with the alchemist up from the original five hundred gold to six hundred. Eh, we will get over it when this extra coin gets him, Asharae and Nug a more comfortable tent to sleep in when they were wandering the wilds.

And that is why Wren was striding through the market place, his head held high with a well earned confidence. “Mayhaps you will stop treating me like a chi- Oof!” And not playing attention to his surroundings.

“Oh! Erm... yes?” The person he collided with stammered out and to Wren’s surprise, it was another elf.

An pale skinned elven man with snow white hair and wearing green clothing with brown leather, his ears weren’t a long as Wren’s but he had a graceful beauty about him that made Wren feel tongue tied. “I- Umm, I just- I wasn’t paying attention and walked into you! Ahh... Forgive me, I find myself in shock. I have ne’er seen another elf besides myself and my sister in Vernworth.” Looks like Sven wasn’t the only one who rambled when they were nervous.

The white haired elf blinked and offered Wren an understanding smile. “No harm done. This is my first time in the city and I hardly expected to see one of my own ilk here, though you bare no resemblance to any elf I have e’er encountered.” He pointed out, focusing on Wren’s longer ears and black hair. It made the dark haired elf feel self conscious under the other’s gaze, it didn’t help that he was able take how beautiful the white haired elf was. Gods, why was so quick to swoon when a handsome face crossed his path?

“But where are my manners? My name is Glyndwr. Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ser...?”

“Uh, W-Wren! My name is Wren!”

“Wren...” Glyndwr tested the name on his tongue then smiled. “A fitting name for one of our own ilk.”

Wren let out a nervous chuckle, looking away as he rubbed his arm. “To be named after a bird? A common theme among our ilk.” Elven and nature went together like nobility and gold. Now that he thought about it, with the exception of him and Asharae, there were no other elf in Vernworth and even when out in the wilds they had never crossed paths with another elf. Wren remembered Asharae and Brant mentioning an elven settlement in Vermund but they were extremely reclusive so to see one now, it raised a few questions.

“If I may be so bold as to ask, what brings you to Vernworth?”

It was now Glyndwr’s turn to look bashful and become a little tongue tied. And a little guilty, it reminded Wren of how Sven acted during the ornate box incident. How did he keep running into people that were browsing the market with a look of guilt on their faces?

“I possess no ill intent, I assure you!” Glyndwr tried to explain then motioned to the bow rack on display outside the blacksmith. “I merely wished for a closer look at these bows. Those of other races differ so in design from our own, you see; I cannot deny I am curious about them.” Were human crafted bows truly so different from elven crafted ones? Wren hadn’t noticed. But he spent no time browsing for a new bow, he had the same one that was made in his home village and never changed it.

It was well taken care of and saved his life more times than he can count, there was no need to replace it. Still, he could understand the curiosity. Glyndwr shook his head and tried to pretend that he wasn’t actually that interested in the bow. “That’s all ‘tis, mild curiosity. I have no desire to actually own one of these contraptions myself.” But Wren could see the want in his eyes, the same want that Sven had.

Wren opened his mouth to ask why Glyndwr was pretending he didn’t want one of the bows when he very clearly did but was stopped when Asharae appeared from the crowd and marched up him. She didn’t look mad, more concerned but seeing that he brother was unharmed, she masked her worry behind a false mask of irritation. “Where have you been?” She demanded, hands on her hips and scowling up at her brother. “How long does it take to sell a sack of fish? I beginning to think that you had been arrested to volunteered yourself for a crazy suicide mission to slay a family of og- Another elf?”

Ah, so she finally notice Glyndwr.

And just like Wren, she was stunned see another elf to begin with. Even Glyndwr was shocked to see Asharae with her longer ears and dark hair.

So Wren took it upon himself to introduce them. “Glyndwr, this is my younger... more fiery spirited sister, Asharae. Sister, allow me to introduce, Ser Glyndwr. We were just discuss the human crafted bows on sale and how he is interested in how they are crafted.”

“You wish to own a human made bow?” Asharae asked with a tilt of the head. Never one to mince words but what caught Wren off guard was that she was openly more interested in hearing Glyndwr’s side than anyone they had previously spoken with. In fact, there was no hostility or any of the usual caution in her stance like their would normally be when they were in a social situation.

Glyndwr flinched at her blunt question. Looking as those he had been asked if he committed a crime instead of a simple question. “N-No! Certainly not!” He rushed out. “And e’en if I did, ‘tisn’t as if I could purchase one; ‘tould be be unseemly for an elf to aspire to such a thing. No matter how they fascinate me... ‘tisn’t to be.”

Would it be unseemly though?

The brother and sister did business with humans all the time and while Asharae held a dislike of them, she never once said that it was forbidden for them to do so.

Perhaps the clan of elves that Glyndwr hailed from were more strict in their rules about human interaction that the people of Wren and Asharae’s village. If that guilty expression on the white haired man’s face was anything to go by, just coming to Vernworth had to be a huge act of rebellion.

And as if the want wasn’t enough to pull at Wren’s stolen heart strings, the sadness on Glyndwr’s face was the final push. He wanted to help the other elf. If he wasn’t willing to obtain a human made bow with his own hands then Wren would have to do it for him but finding one in the wilds would prove difficult and there was no guarantee that if they found a bow that would be be of human make. The easiest path would be to just buy one from the blacksmith and give it to Glyndwr but Wren swore he would not make such purchases for random people anymore.

But just as Wren was good at seeing the longing in other people, Asharae could read her brother like an open book.

So with a roll over her eyes, she nudged him towards the blacksmith. “Go on.” She whispered. “You know you want to, just... don’t buy the most expensive one.”

Was...

No. He wasn’t even going to question it.

Wren gave his sister a blinding smile and mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ then gently took Glyndwr’s hand in his. “Come with me.” He urged, pulling the other elf over to the blacksmith. Glyndwr was a bit lost for words but followed either way. It was a smooth process from there, Wren picked out a reasonably price bow that looked like it would last for a long time as long as it received the proper maintenance and offered it to Glyndwr, smile still present on his face. Asharae was going to get double the portion of honey sweets for this once he was able to get the ingredients to make them.

“You would simply give this to me?” Glyndwr asked, half expecting it to be a cruel joke and for the bow to be ripped away at any moment.

But when it was placed in his hands, he knew the act was genuine. “This is most generous! I would gladly accept it, you have my gratitude!”

“Ah, the gratitude should be directed at my sister as well. Tis a gift from both of us.”

“You are both very kind to have done this.” He wasted no time in comparing his newly purchased bow to the one originally on his back, muttering to himself excitedly as his fingers danced over the curved wood, the metal and leather of the grip and even going as far as to test the tight draw of the string. “Fascinating! ‘Tis not dissimilar to an elven bow in make, and yet ‘tis unlike one in near every respect. Such as the bowstring: it looks quite the same, but the tension s altogether different. I suppose that comes from using different materials.”

In his explanation, Glyndwr caught the looks the brother and sister were giving him.

Wren looking as thought Glyndwr’s ramblings gave him even more joy on top of the happiness he was already feeling. While Asharae, she didn’t look disinterested, but more confused at how someone could be so invested in the crafting of a bow. But, then again, she was more of a dagger wielder herself.

“Why do you stare?” Glyndwr asked. “Perhaps you find it absurd that I should marvel so at a bow not of elven make?”

“Hardly.” Wren replied with a shake of his head. “I find your euphuism rather charming, if I am being honest. Who am I to judge where another person’s interests lie if it brings them joy?”

Glyndwr was not expecting such an honest response, it made him blush and feel a little bad for thinking the other elves were judging him. “I suppose I sought inspiration, for I confess I find myself rather lost. My aim has suffered of late, such that my wayward arrows simply will not strike true.” An elf that could not hit their target? That explained the behaviour, perhaps it was a bit of a stereotype but there was a bit of truth in elves being talented archers, nearly all were hunters and in the forest it wasn’t like they had access to large mines filled with ore to make things like great swords or shields. Archery was the way of the elven people for a reason.

“The timing could not be more unwelcome, as my skill with a bow is to be put to a trial anon.” Glyndwr further explained then a look of curiosity fell over his face, as if remember he was talking to fellow elves. They may not look entirely like him but they were cousins in some manner, he didn’t have to be as coy about his people’s traditions. “Forgive me; tis been some time since I have spoken to another who is not from my home. You are familiar with the Trial of Archery? A time honoured elven custom?”

There was a moment of hesitation as Wren felt panic build in him, this tradition did not sound familiar to him in the slightest. Thankfully, Asharae caught his hesitation and answered in his stead. “We have similar customs in our home but not that particular one.”

“Ah, I see.” There wasn’t any judgement on Glyndwr’s face at the admission, some elves just did things differently depending on where their home was located. “Then allow me to explain. Where I am from every elf undergoes this trial when they reach maturity. Till we succeed, we are not considered to have come of age. I have been training most diligently, yet my skills ne’er seem to take shape.” The siblings were starting to see the issue now.

Elven tradition were almost sacred, especially the coming of age ones, and to fail it... even if you had the most welcoming and understand community around you, the shame you would feel for failing could be overbearing. And for the trial to be archery, was their anything more humiliating than being the one elf that couldn’t loose an arrow?

“Indeed, I fear my aim had only worsened with each failing.” Glyndwr admitted, his brow pinched as he looked down at the new bow in his hands. “I grew so vexed with myself that I sought to learn a foreign form of archery rather than master my own people’s.” To say those word, to admit aloud that he was failing in the same teaching that carried their people for generations and then make the effort to travel to an unknown city filled with humans who you may have never encountered before this day, it took a lot of courage and the siblings admired him for that.

And the self depreciating look on Glyndwr’s face fell and was replaced with a look of hope, Wren couldn’t deny the other man was beautiful when he smiled. “Thanks to you both, I now have the means to do so, though I daresay I shan’t make any headway on my own. Say...” Suddenly looking much more shy, not able to make eye contact with either Wren or Asharae, but instead sent glance’s to the bow on Wren’s back, Glyndwr plucked up the courage to make a request. “Would you be willing to give me a demonstration?”

“A demonstration?” Wren echoed back.

Glyndwr nodded eagerly, taking a step closer to the other man and even being so bold as to take the other’s hand in his own. “It might be just what I need to find my aim! Please, Ser.” He begged as the heat rose up on Wren’s face at them being so close. “You gifted me this; I only ask that you show me how to wield it!”

“I-!”

Wren wanted to say ‘yes’. He wanted to say ‘yes’ so badly.

It wasn’t a massive request and surely Asharae couldn’t complain about helping a fellow elf. She should be sympathetic to his plight more anyone and it wasn’t like they were being asked for more money or to slay a griffin, it was just a couple of hours of archery practice.

“I would be honoured to aid you in any way I can.” Wren agreed. If Asharae wanted to slap him upside the head then she could but he was set on doing this, more so when Glyndwr’s face lit up at the news. “Many thanks! I am indebted to you twofold!”

‘You and the little lordling, it seems... I’m slowly growing a dept list.’

“But this is no place to practice.” Glyndwr pointed out, stepping back and gesturing to the surrounding market place. Too many people that could be hurt by a stray arrow and even with Brant’s protection, they wouldn’t be able to explain their way out of shooting some poor civilian in the eye by accident. “Would you be so kind as to meet me by the ruins north of Trevo Mine? That is where I train, you see. I’ll be able to concentrate on your display of bowmanship much better there.”

No pressure then. And Trevo Mine?

They hand been there a handful off times but never ventured past it, this was going to be an interesting journey into new lands. With the excited smile still on his face, Glyndwr shook Wren’s hand. “I do hope you’ll join me when you can. For now, I shall bid you farewell!” There was a spring in his step as he left, sending the siblings one last wave and Wren mentally prepared himself for whatever scolding Asharae was going to give him for volenteering their aid without even talking to her about it first.

But she said nothing.

She didn’t even look angry, she appeared to be accepting of this new task.

“You can’t help yourself, can you, brother?” She asked, her scarred lips curled into an amused smirk. “Be it a village in distress, a urchin dressed in the finest clothes or one of own ilk struggling; you have the want- No, the need to help people.” Was... was that a bad thing to help people when no one else would? “We should return to our temporary home. No doubt, Nug will be worried about us.”

Asharae was taking this remarkably well.

Wren didn’t know how to deal with that.

Chapter Text

Three days into renting their temporary home, the group got roped into another request.

On top of Arisen, potential Sovran, monster slayer and glorified errand boy, Wren could add letter courier to his list of occupations. The merchant that ran the ox carts of Vermund stopped the group in the street one day and mentioned that he had witnessed then speaking with captain Brant and other sentinel like Ser Gregor. It put Asharae on guard at first, demanding to know why he had been watching them but the man quickly explained he wasn’t intentionally spying on them, it was just something he noticed in passing.

It still felt suspicious and played on the siblings’ paranoia, fearing that others could be spying on them and they didn’t know it.

The man immediately changed the subject, saying that he had a request to make of them.

Apparently, he knew Ser Lennart and has been trying to send him a letter to check on his friend’s well being but since the dragon attack, he was unable to convince anyone to make the trip even with payment on the table. And that is why he was enlisting the aid of Wren and Asharae, he commented saying that they looked like they knew the struggles of the road and should be able to handle the trip with ease. Asharae instantly voiced her opposition to the idea, saying that they had enough on their plate and didn’t have to play messenger for minimum amount of coin.

Wren was ready to agree and politely turn down the offer until Nug added her opinion.

It had been some time since they were in Melve and hadn’t been able to send any letters of their own to Ulrika or Lennart to see how they were doing and if the progress in rebuilding Melve was going well. And with that, Wren’s decision was made.

They were going back to Melve.

Asharae was prepared to argue that the walk there and back would take a number of days and by the time they got back, they would miss the reunion with Mildred in signing her home back to her and hoping that she didn’t notice the table they had to replace after Nug broke it. But the merchant interrupted her again, promising that he would provide them the coin to pay for their journey both to the village and back, he just really needed this letter delivered.

It was still suspicious but even Asharae couldn’t deny that checking on Melve and seeing if it was still being neglected by the northern encampment would be great news for Brant and to have the entire population on Melve on their side, it was just more voices that Disa would not be able to fight against in the future.

And that is how they ended up slowly rolling along in the ox cart, back to where everything started.

“If those homes are still in shambles and you offer to help rebuild them with your own hands, I will drop a brick on your already broken head.” Asharae warned her brother from her seat. She was turned so her folded arms were resting on the barrier of the cart and her chin rested on her arms. All will watching the passing scenery, most likely watching for any potential ambush. Nug was at her side, mimicking her posture.

Sat across from her, Wren rolled his eyes and playfully nudged her leg with his foot. “Such a negative out look. Is there no charity in your heart?”

“No.”

“And this is why people prefer me o’er you.”

“I’d let the people have you if you weren’t the one that kept us well fed.”

Wren hummed and leaned back. Letting his head hang back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his skin. “If you can avoid making any negative comments while we are in Melve, I shall make that stew you like so much as a reward.”

There was a beat of silence between them, all that could be heard was the wheels of the cart slowly rolling over the dirt path and the soft calls of the near by oxen. It was peaceful. Almost enough to lull Wren to sleep but then he heard a shuffling in front of him, he lifted his head up a little and cracked open one eye to see Asharae peeking over her shoulder at him. “Are you going to make it with a properly aged beast steak?” She asked.

“I have a fresh cut of beast steak curing at home as we speak. By they time we get back, it should be ready to use.”

“With the vegetables?”

“I will buy only the freshest.”

“I haven’t had your stew in months...”

“All the more reason to mind your manners.”

Given that she didn’t give a verbal response and went back to watching the scenery, Wren took that as his sister agreeing to his offer. Now they could just sit back and enough a smooth ride with no chances of anything bad happening.

-

Cyclops were disgusting.

And no one was going to change their mind on that.

They were also a colossal pain in the arse!

Just like when they left Melve those couple of months back, they were attack by another cyclops in the same canyon pass. They were able to fell it wouldn’t destroying the cart but the ox and cart driver hadn’t made it easy, the ox constantly tried to retreat only for the driver to force it to keep going forward into the path of the cyclops, if it wasn’t for those explosive arrows that Wren had crafted before departing on the journey, it ox would have been nothing but a lump of mushed up meat under the cyclops’ club.

The cart itself was shaken up, the driver said that when they made it to Melve they would have to stay an extra day so he could make the necessary repairs otherwise it would fall apart on the road back from the smallest bump on the road.

Asharae let out a noise that could only be described as a growl you would hear from an angry warg but said nothing. Instead climbed back in the cart with a look on her face that would scare off even a lich.

Given that she wasn’t screaming to the heavens about how she was right and this trip was a bad idea, she must really want that stew that Wren promised to make if she didn’t complain once.

But even with that over sized inconvenience, they made it to Melve in one piece.

And it broke Wren’s missing heart to see that they still received no aid.

The village looked cleaner. Well, as clean as a half levelled village could be and there was still very slow progress on rebuilding the salvageable homes but Wren was sure he could count the number of guards on one hands. And they didn’t appear to be doing anything besides patrolling the streets. This didn’t make sense, when Wren and Asharae told Brant of the situation in Melve, he swore that he would send an order to the encampment to give aid to the village.

So where was the aid?

Wren had full faith that Brant hadn’t lied to them. The man wanted to help the people of Vermund so had the missive ordering the soldiers to help Melve even reached its destination or was it being ignored by the encampment? Could Disa’s influence reach this far away from Vernworth?

With the lack of guards, it was easy to find Lennart, he was directing a number of villagers in rebuilding one of the home. When he saw the elven siblings and pawn approach, a relieved smile spread across his aged face.

They said quick ‘hello’s and the letter was handed over.

Lennart confirmed Wren’s suspicion that no addition help had been sent and currently the villagers were dealing with a number of problems, most they could handle on their own but a group of saurians had built a nest next to the river outside Melve and Lennart’s opinion it would be foolish to leave it as it was. The moment those eggs hatched and the saurians reached maturity they would have the numbers to invade the village if they had a craving for something other than fish. Not to mention that with them nesting so close to the village it made fishing there a hazard so until they were taken care of, that was one food supply cut off from the already struggling people.

Lennart offered them a small number of explosive barrels, stating that using them would be safer than charging into a saurian nest and the blast would destroy the eggs with zero chance of failure.

None of this sat right with Wren.

What right did they have to decide the saurians had to die?

They were just preparing for their eggs to hatch and during that time they won’t stay far from the nest. Sure, it was odd for saurians to make a nest this close to a settlement but the only reason they would choose to do this is because the river was bountiful with fish. Once the eggs hatch and the new born saurians were old enough to leave the nest, the older saurians would take them further into the forest to find a cave where they could build a more permanent nest.

It was just a matter of waiting them out but no, Lennart wanted them dead and gone.

And Wren knew he wouldn’t be able to convince the retired soldier to take a more peaceful option.

So with a sour look on his face, he threw those explosive barrels on the unsuspecting, sleeping saurians. His stomach twisted with the need to vomit as he watched the eggs shatter, fluid splattering and the horrible scent of burning flesh flooded his senses. The feeling only doubles when Lennart asked them to to cover the remains of the nest so no more saurians would be tempted to rebuild a nest in the same place. They were given specific instructions to be extremely careful when throwing the jars of poison, that they shouldn’t get the poison in the river or it will make the people of Melve sick seeing as this was their main supply of water.

He did that with great reluctance as well.

But instead of going back to report the job complete, Wren said he wanted to stay at the riverside, he wasn’t in the mood to talk. So Asharae offered to do it, leaving her brother and Nug sat on the grass, staring at nothing.

“Do you believe that fish are immune to the Brine?” Nug suddenly asked as she threw a string with a hook on the end back into the water. Wren wasn’t sure where she got that hook but as long as Nug didn’t hurt herself on it, he wouldn’t question it. She was trying new methods of catching fish and with the string, at least she wasn’t leaning over a deep body of water where she could fall in with the smallest misstep.

The question was a bit random too.

So much so that Wren wasn’t even sure how to respond to it.

Pawns thought differently compared to other beings but Nug was in a group of her own sometimes.

“Is... is this something you oft think about?” He asked.

Nug’s lips pressed into a firm line as she pondered Wren’s words. “I suppose it confuses me, is all.” Ah, well, that was understandable. Even the greatest scholars and sorcerers were still debating on how the Brine behaved and still no answers came from their many talks beyond ‘Stay out of the Brine’. Not exactly the break through of the century when it was common knowledge for as long as their has been a record of written word.

“Is their immunity to the Brine a skill that only fish have or could other creatures have it and we simply do not know?” Nug continued to wondered, staring down at the calm water as she kicked her legs back and force. “Or perchance it is a skill they have developed o’er the years. And if that is so then who is to say that we can not leave this immunity too? Just imagine, Arisen, to be able to swim in the open water. It sounds so... so...”

“Wet?” Wren suggested, only half teasing.

Nug’s face lit up regardless. “Yes! Wet! Doesn’t it sound exciting?”

Even in his self imposed sadness, Wren couldn’t deny that Nug’s unwavering joy was contagious. He tried to keep an optimistic outlook to balance out Asharae’s nihilism but deep down they were both realistic when it came to serious matters. Not Nug though.

Nug was just so new to life, everything intrigued her and brought her some kind of happiness. Wren wanted to protect that for as long as he could, time wore down innocence and turned it cynical, if he could do it then Wren was going to do everything in his power to let Nug keep that innocence for as long as he could. So reaching over, Wren took the string from Nug and carefully wrapped it around two of her fingers before returning it to her hands, so she would have a somewhat better grip on the off chance she managed to get a bite. “It sounds wonderful, my dear.” He breathed then petted her hands once more for luck.

A more comfortable silence fell over the pair this time.

Wren was able to finally relax as he flopped back on the grass, arms folded behind his head and just watching the clouds slowly drift by while Nug attempted her efforts to fish. He was so relaxed that Wren almost didn’t hear the footsteps approaching them.

It was only when a shadow cast over him that the elf paid attention to the new comer.

“Lennart offered his thanks and paid us for our efforts.” Asharae said, holding a heavy coin purse over her brother. And when he tried to take up and take it, she swiftly moved it from his reach. “You may not agree but I had him pay extra for your... shall we call it, reluctance to cull the saurians? A fitting payment, if you ask me, and I didn’t have to threaten him.”

“You should give up sell sword work and become a nun with that merciful outlook.”

“I considered it but those drab robes would give me a rash.”

“Oh, and we couldn’t have that? An irritating rash would only cast clouds o’er your glowing personality.” Wren teased and moved to sit up and prepare for their next move, if there was no further work they could help with in Melve then they could focus on hunting dinner and setting up camp. He hadn’t expected their visit to be this short but Wren won’t question it. Though he probably should, just to be sure there was absolutely nothing they could help with.

“Did Ser Lennart mention if there was aught else we could do around the village?” He asked, sitting up and popping the stiff muscle in his neck.

Asharae dropped down next to him, after ruffling Nug’s hair. “No. And I give you my word I did ask but he reassured me that the village was managing but they could use more aid from either the encampment or Vernworth itself.” That meant explain the situation to Brant again and seeing the self hatred in his eyes when he realizes that any and all his orders to provide aid would be blocked by Disa. It was beyond frustrating.

Asharae must have seen the disappointment on her brother’s face and if she was being honest, she was disappointed too.

Was she surprised? Not in the slightest, humans were selfish by nature.

But sometimes Asharae wanted her bias views to be proven wrong. If anything just to remind her that there were good humans, this wasn’t one of those times.

“I heard some gossip about town though.” Asharae began, staring forward at the remains of the saurian nest. Her nose scrunching up at the purple poison slowly soaking into the scorched earth. “Turns out things at the encampment aren’t as peachy as the guards would lead e’eryone to believe. Soldiers aren’t being trained properly, some saying they aren’t training at all, and any superiors that bring up the lack of motivation they get reassigned.” You didn’t have to be a scholar to see that this behaviour was strange, especially during these times with the dragon hanging over them.

Given how close the encampment was to the very village that suffered the rage of the dragon, one would think the recruits would be put through brutal training regime so they would be more prepared should the dragon return.

“Apparently there is a beastren commander that’s been pushed out of the main camp because he doesn’t agree with this lack of training.”

“A beastren?” That caught Wren’s attention. And even Nug, who was looking back at Asharae, breaking the focus she had on her fishing line. “You said a ‘beastren commander’?”

“That’s what the people are saying.”

How fascinating!

Vernworth had a number of beastren residents, granted the majority of them were beggars in the slums, but not once had Wren seen a sentinel beastren. No doubt because of the beastren being targets of bigotry, it was a miracle that kind beastren lady who ran the tavern was able to keep her business going. There was no denying that it spiked the elf’s curiousity. “I do not recall seeing this beastren when I was at the encampment, did you learn where he could be located?”

“What are you planning?” Asharae wondered, already knowing that there would be no early return to Vernworth now.

“I am not ‘planning’ exactly, just floating a possible idea around. Tis not even worth mentioning unless we can even speak with this man.”

Asharae didn’t buy it but she wasn’t going to argue. Not when there was stew on the line. “North of the encampment. He has a camp set up on an overlook.”

“Then let us not waste time.” Wren said with a grin. He hopped up onto his feet and stetched his arms above his head, popped any stiff joints and he previous bad mood forgotten, this could be a good lead. A chance to help Melve, if the beastren commander was a reasonable man.

-

Goblins were no longer the most annoying monster they encounter.

Now, it was choppers.

How could something that was smaller than those pesky goblins leave more bruises and catch them off so much?!

Leaping from the bushes, tree branches and low cliff edges to catch the group off guard. It pissed of Wren, it pissed off Nug and it really, really pissed off Asharae but not once did she complain verbally. She took her anger out on the choppers. Aggressive kicks and stomps delivered to the chopper corpses, the sounds of their bones breaking under her boot made Wren wince with minor disgust but he let her continue until all the anger left his sister’s body.

Eventually, her drive died down, Asharae stopped stomping the chopper and instead stood over its body. Sweat on her brow, panting and blood on her boots.

‘She must really want that stew!’ Wren thought. “Feeling better?”

Asharae lifted her head and stared at her brother with wide eyes, there were a couple of small splatters of blood on her face. Then she shrugged. “I could use a drink.”

Wren untied his canteen and tossed it at the younger elf, who took a grateful gulp and used some of the water to wash her face.

“Good, shall we continue on our way then?” They couldn’t be that far from this beastren’s camp.

When checking the path for tracks, they found boot prints that looked like they belonged with a soldier. Granted, when they were inspecting tracks they should have noticed the chopper footprints as well but the little bastards were good at hiding their tracks on dirt paths. But they were getting very close the the base of the Vermundian mountains, Asharae made a comment that if they kept going north they would be in the area where they first entered the country and using that as a limit, they should be able to keep their bearings.

Follwing the narrow path between the cliffs, the group found a side path that lead to an open area and the sight that greeted them took Wren’s breath away.

A small clearing covered in grass and protected by the high rocky walls of the cliffs, at the far end of the clearing as a breath taking out look but what really stunned Wren was the number of moonglow flowers that were blooming around them. So many that he, his sister and pawn had to watch their step so they wouldn’t accidentally crush any of the delicate flowers as they made their way to the small tent on the far side of the clear. “Arisen! Look!” Nug called out, pointing towards the tent. “I spy a rift stone!”

Oh! What luck!

They could recruit some new pawns when they leave.

“Well spotted, Nug.” Wren praised. And Nug preened.

“This must be the camp, now if we can just find the commander...” Asharae mused, marching ahead before her brother could stop her and started poking around the supplies. Hopefully, she was just looking for clues as to where the beastren was and if he was returning soon rather than looking for things to take. “I doubt he went far, that campfire still has embers smoldering and I see no sign of a struggle. Perchance, he left to hunt.” Wren suggested, crouching down in front of the fire’s remains and started his own investigation. It didn’t look like a meal had been made, Wren could see no traces of food scraps or blood splatter from skinning and preparing meat.

Maybe, it-

“You make a habit of poking your noses around other people’s camps?” A deep voice asked, making the elves jump.

Asharae whipped around, daggers already in hand, while Nug had a little more restraint and was waiting for the order to draw her great sword. Wren took the more peaceful path, holding his hands up in peace and shooting his sister a look to back down, the newcomer before them was the beastren they were looking for and what a beast he was.

He was as broad as he was tall, only being shorter than Nug’s lanky frame, but he held a regal air of authority about him. The Vermundian armour he was wearing only made him look larger along with the wild mane of golden hair that he had, his face wrinkled slightly as he studied each elf and the pawn, clearly trying to judge if they were a threat or not. And that great sword strapped to his back didn’t look to be messed with.

And he made Wren’s missing heart skip a beat.

‘Gods...’ His mouth went dry and palms started to sweat as he started to view the beastren in a more lustful light. What would it be like to have those large hands on his body? Did he have blunt nails or were they claws like what Nug had? Was his body fur soft to the touch or course like Wren’s stubble? So many questions but now was not the time to ask them, the beastren might not appreciate being lusted over when his camp was intruded on.

“I-I...” Wren stammered then cleared his throat and shook his head. He had to think clearly and reason with the man and ignore the look of judgement that Asharae was giving him, how could she tell what he was thinking?! “Forgive us, we meant no harm.” He explained. “We came here seeking you, in fact... you are the beastren commander from the near by encampment, yes?”

The beastren’s posture changed from battle ready to a little more relaxed but still guarded, it was the same posture Asharae held when talking with humans. Actually, the way his expression shifted reminded Wren a lot of his sister, the beastren looked like he waiting for a negative comment.

“What is it?” He demanded, his tone tired. “Got a question about my training regime?”

Well, this saved time.

“Yes. I mean no- I mean, we do have questions but not in the manner I suspect you are expecting.” While it looked like they were no longer in danger of being impaled on a great sword, this conversation was a little too impersonal for Wren’s tastes, if they were going to ask for the beastren’s aid then they should exchange names. “Perchance, we are getting ahead of ourselves? I believe introductions are called for, my name is Wren and this is my younger sister, Asharae, and my friend, Nug.” Asharae returned her daggers to her belt and nodded at the beastren, Nug lowered her hand from her great sword and waved, a happy smile on her face.

“Beren.” The beas- Beren replied. Looking over the small group again, any suspicion left Beren as his expression turned to one of disappointment as he crossed he arms over his armoured chest. “S’pose that was an unlikely guess...” He muttered under his breath. “I saw you crossing the bridge and fighting them choppers, not many can handle themselves against those little bastards. But you did.”

“Our aches and brusies would beg to differ.” Wren countered, a smile tugging at his lips and to his relief, Beren huffed out a chuckle in response. “Hoping to enlist, then?” Beren asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

Them? Enlist?

That was a last thing they needed to add to their list of duties.

Wren didn’t even need to look at his sister or Nug to know their reaction. “I’m afraid not.” He responded in the most polite way he could. “We have many obligations on our plate and we could not dedicate ourselves to a military life.” Not that they would want to. Being a sell sword was the closest the siblings came to any military work, the rules they made were their own and if they somehow got pulled into a job that took a dark turn, they had the choice to step away without fear of punishment. At most, they were loosing out on payment by they still had their morals.

The disappoint was clear on Beren’s face but he looked like he expected it at the same time and didn’t appear to be to upset at the rejection. “No? A pity. I’d hoped to add you to our ranks. You seem like you’d be fit for battle even if I were to call upon you on the morrow, which is more than I can say for the rest.” Wren could feel the heat travelling up his neck and straight to the tips of his pointed ears, he knew it wasn’t intentional. Not everything was flirty but standing here, with Beren’s piercing gaze roaming over every inch of his body, Wren couldn’t help but feel vulnerable in a good way.

Beren must have noticed how Wren was squirming under his gaze as the corner of his mouth pulled into an amused smirk. He decided to have mercy on the flustered elf and waved his hand dismissively. “Apologies for assuming. We’ve had fewer folks looking to enlist of late, and I’m hungry for recruits.”

Brant had mentioned something similar when he requested the groups help in culling the local monster population. Recruits were had to spare and in Vernworth, most were assigned to patrolling around the noble quarter and the palace grounds, very little were spared to leave the city and actually help anyone that needed it.

Which is exactly why they were here to begin with.

“We may not be here to join your ranks but we are hoping for your aid.” That got Beren’s attention, he motioned for the group to sit down so they could talk more openly which was a good sign if he was willing to give them the time of day. So they sat around the dwindling camp fire.

Unclear of how long Beren had been stationed at the encampment, Wren explained everything to him.

About the dragon attack, him being the Arisen, the state that Melve had been in for the past months and that despite informing captain Brant of these issues no help had been sent and even the good captain was stretched thin for guards he could spare and is why Wren, Asharae and Nug were doing a lot of the leg work. That and they honestly wanted to see how the people of Melve were keeping. Beren listened to it all. Never once cutting Wren off or claiming that this tale was all a fabrication, if anything, he seemed to believe the elven man’s words as he nodded.

“I have not ventured to Melve personally but I had seen reports and even witnessed a handful of resident come to the encampment pleading for help. Each time they were told that the recruits had more pressing issues or there just weren’t enough men to spare.” The twisted frown on Beren’s face was all Wren needed to see to know that the beastren didn’t believe those words one little bit. “Bah, tis naught but oxen shit. When the encampment was first establish, a missive was sent to Melve demanding any able hand to join our ranks by order of the Queen Regent. Said they needed training for aught that may come... If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that someone high up wanted Melve to be vulnerable by removing every capable fighter.”

“Tis almost as if there was an attack expected to happen!” Nug pointed out.

“Or t’was planned.” Asharae suggested and a tense silence hung over them.

No one wanted to say it out loud but there was no denying there could be a thread of truth in her words. Of course, no one could predict when and where the dragon would attack but what if this planned attack was not that of the dragon but instead a man lead one and the appearance of the dragon only stopped it. Or delayed it.

Wren sided eyed his sister, he couldn’t call her paranoid but he could lean on the side of caution. “Tis a serious accusation, Asharae. To even suggest such a thing may end up with a rope around your neck or whate’er they do here in Vermund.”

“Chopping block.” Beren supplied and Wren went pale. “Chopping block for treason. Hangings for crimes such as murder.”

Right, well, best to never talk about this subject in public least they want to a swift end. No wonder Brant was constantly looking over his own shoulder. But back to the reason they were even here seeking of Beren instead of chatting about ways that the Queen Regent would happily have them executed and certainly no wondering if she had tried these methods on Wren before settling on breaking his mind and selling him into slavery.

“Back to the matter on hand!” Wren decided, trying to ignore the phantom feeling of a rope around his neck, he turned back to Beren and giving the man his most sincere look. “We came to you in hopes that you would be willing to offer training to any able body in Melve. I know they do not match the standard of recruit you are use to but these people are desperate and with no help coming from the encampment or capital... would you consider it, good ser?” If it came down to it and the beastren was willing but only in exchange for coin then Wren would find a way to scrap together the funds. Bandit contracts, monster culling, hunting or even escort duty, he would do it all if it meant Melve was getting some form of protection,

Beren was quiet. Pondering over the offer but his face gave away no signs of which way, it made the elves tense. Asharae was fully expecting to walk away empty handed but she knew the rejection would greatly hurt her brother and it would result in him fixating on finding another way to help the people of Melve, this is why they had yet to even set foot in the ocean side town of Harve. If their situation was anything like Melve, Wren wouldn’t be getting a decent night’s sleep anytime soon.

“I would love naught more than to be able lend my blade to protect those people.” Beren finally answered and the elves breaths a long sigh of relief.

It was short lived when they saw that Beren didn’t share their happiness.

“As I said, I would love naught more than to be able but I am afraid my presence would not be welcome in Melve. Many keep their distance on account of my being a beastren. How very Vermundian of them..” He replied, the last part heavy with spite. Beren and Asharae shared some of the same bias it seemed but the difference was the Beren was willing to teach recruits. “At the very least, I’d like to provide some decent training to the soldiers we have now. Easier said than done, especially when the weapons we were promised have yet to arrive. ‘Tisn’t like to boost their morale, having rusted steel to train with.” He explained and motioned towards a small training area with a number of dummies set up and a weapon rack with weapons that looked like they had seen better days.

The group didn’t have to be reminded of the increase in monster attack on the road, they still had the bruises and sore bones as proof of their own run ins. But they understood Beren’s plight. It couldn’t be easy staying motivated when your blade could barely cut into butter, never mind take down a pesky goblin or something more threatening like a cyclops.

Beren crossed his arms over his chest and looked over the group again with longing in his eyes, his gaze lingering on Wren just a bit longer than the other two with a twinkle of something else in there. “What I wouldn’t give for some decent weapons and a soldier to act as an example, someone with motivation to grow.” He confessed then laughed at the idea. Nothing got soldiers working harder than a good, old fashioned rivalry. “That’d light a fire under them, I reckon.”

“What if we found someone?” Wren suddenly suggested, earning a confused look from both Nug and Asharae.

“Excuse me?” Asharae asked.

Was he seriously offering their time to aid another person?

They only came looking for the beastren so they wouldn’t have to worry about visiting Melve as often and more of their time and effort could be focused on the tasks that Brant had given them but now Wren wanted to to go sniffing around looking for people to recruit into the Vermund army?!

“You would do that?” The offer alone was enough to stun Beren, he briefly considered asking for the elf’s aid but decided against it when he heard that the man was the Arisen and had enough on his plate to deal with. It wouldn’t have felt right to add more onto it but here Wren was, offering up his services. “Tis a lot to ask of anyone, let alone a stranger.”

“Were it too much then I would not have offered in the first place.”

Asharae bit the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting, she made it this long she wouldn’t break now even if everything in her wanted to scream out and demand to know what was going through her brother’s fractured mind.

Beren couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he reached across the near dead fire and shook Wren’s hand. “Much appreciated! We’d welcome aught you can spare, in fact, t’would be cruel to ask you to depart now after such a generous offer. I would insist that you all spend the night here, tisn’t much but I promise you a safe night’s rest and free use of the fire to cook your meal.” A safe place to rest their heads in the company of a seasoned warrior along with access to a camp fire they didn’t have to build?

They couldn’t turn that offer down, could they?

-

Wren offered to hunt down a meal for them all, taking Nug along with him while Asharae built their tents. She did so in silence and her mouth in a firm frown, she had yet to say anything to Wren but the older elf knew she was going to chew her ear off at the first opportunity.

Nug and Wren returned with a freshly caught boar, skinned it, cut it up and cooked it. Over the meal they were able to discuss their plan in greater detail. When they returned to Vernworth and once they had the funds to spare, Wren and Asharae would commission newly forged swords from the blacksmith and personally transport them back to Beren’s little side camp so they wouldn’t be withheld from him by beastren hating soldiers. And during the period where there were gathering the necessary coin to pay for these swords, they would also keep an eye open for any able young person that was willing to take up arms and had the desire to fight.

While the elves and pawn were in Vernworth, Beren would not only act as their eyes and ears for any changes in both the encampment and Melve but he would do his best to get more patrols sent to the village. He said for them not to get their hopes up about the patrols though and that he would be able to do more once he could properly train the recruits.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

So with the meat cooked, they were went to bed with full bellies.

Well, most of them did.

When he could hear the snoring of his sister and purrs from Nug, Wren quietly left his own tent and sat himself on the small ledge that overlooked the meadow of moonglow and just enjoyed the view with his journal in his lap. After searching through the pages, there was no dedicated record of the flower so Wren knew he had to put down a quick sketch. The meadow had been breathtaking during the day but now, the elf found himself at a loss for words. From the ethereal glow of the flowers and the strange mist they seemed to produce, if he were to lie down among them, Wren was sure he would feel like he was lying with the stars while gazing up at a sky filled with them. It felt familiar.

Was this an experience he had before?

It sure felt like it, if he closed his eyes then Wren would same he was back home. He could almost smell the trees of the forest that protected their village, the sound of crickets and the evening breeze blowing gently through his hair. Almost like being home, except something was missing.

No, someone.

There had been someone close to Wren with him at the time, someone that made his heart race, but he just couldn’t picture the face. But he could remember holding their hand in his and the moment their lips met in a shy, chaste kiss; now that was a good memory. If only he could remember their name...

“Having trouble sleeping?”

Wren jumped and whipped around to see Beren slowly approaching him. The man was missing his armour and instead was wearing a comfortable looking set of breeches and a linen tunic; how was it that even without that intimidating around he was able to look just a huge and imposing? And also make Wren feel hot under the collar? “I-I- Ahem, not exactly...” He coughed out, ducking his head to hide his growing blush. “But how can one sleep when a view like this was just feet away. Such beauty is not a common sight in southern Vermund.”

They should though.

The crunch of dirt and ruffle of clothes could be heard and Beren moved to sit close to Wren, offering the dark haired man a smile, his sharp teeth peeking through slightly. “I have not seen aught like it afore.” He confessed, his already deep voice was low and held a certain rumble to it. The Arisen could near enough feel it in his bones.

Was... Was Beren...

No, he couldn’t be!

Wren’s imagination must be running wild and he was seeing signs that weren’t there, he felt a same instant attraction to the likes of Brant and Glyndwr when he first laid eyes on them so to feel the same when looking at Beren. It wasn’t strange, just distracting. It also didn’t help that Wren couldn’t remember the last time he felt the touch of another but he suspected it was before he and Asharae even crossed the mountains into Vermund and if that was correct, it had been a long time since he shared another’s bed... or even their bedroll.

Still, now was not the time for such lustful thoughts!

He had to distract himself from wondering if the beastren’s mane would be soft to the touch or rough.

Or how it would feel to have his flushed skin pressed against the stronger, fur covered body.

“You grew these, yes?” Wren hurried to ask.

The beastren suddenly looked shy. The more flirtatious smirk changed into a bashful smile on his face and a nervous chuckle left his lips as he nodded. “Aye, had a garden of them back home. Moonglow are not a common sight in Battahl and in my youth I came to Vermund, when I first laid eyes on the moonglow, I knew I had to take them home with me. Been growing them e’er since.”

“Can they be used in curatives?” If so then perhaps learning how to harvest seeds and grow their own would benefit them in the long run.

Beren shook his head and Wren’s shoulders dropped with disappointment, he quickly noted that down in his journal. So much for that idea. “All the moonglow have to offer is beauty.” The beastren explained and Wren couldn’t find it in himself to be sad anymore, there was nothing wrong with something pretty to look at, wasn’t that the purpose of paintings and statues. Something eye catching to distract from the ugly things that happened in the world. “Well... beauty is still a good thing. We all need a little beauty during the hard times.”

“That we do.”

Wren opened his mouth to reply but found himself lost for words when a large, fur covered hand laid on top of his. Thinking he was imagining it, he ripped his gaze from the glowing field and down to his hand and sure enough, there was Beren’s hand laying on top of it, the rough paws of his fingers stroked back and forth over Wren’s knuckles and paying extra attention to the small scars. His blue eyes snapped up to meet the usually slitted pupils of the beastren warrior, except those pupils were blown wide with arousal. So Wren hadn’t been imagining it and if he was being honest, the idea was very appealing.

What would it be like to bed a beastren?

What would it be like to kiss a beastren?

Wren wanted to know.

And going by how close their faces were, so much that their noses with brushing against each other, Wren knew he was going to find out. Their lips were a breath apart when-

“We need new bedrolls, t’would be more comfortable sleeping on stone.”

Beren and Wren jumped apart to see Asharae stood not far from them in her own bed clothes, arms crossed over her chest and looking between the two with a glint of amusement in her eye. Wren has never wanted to strangle her more. “Then take my bedroll and double it up on yours.” He said through gritted teeth. Of all the times his overbearing sister could have chosen to interrupt, why did it have to be the only time that Wren wasting making a fool of himself by stumbling over his own words?

The corner of Asharae’s mouth quirked up for a brief moment. “Yours has harpy blood on it.”

“Then put yours on top.”

“Mine has goblin blood.”

“Then share with Nug!”

“Perchance t’would be best we all return to our bedrolls.” Beren suggested. Wren opened his mouth to protest, they didn’t have to stop just because Asharae got her kicks poking her nose in her brother’s romantic affairs. Huh, romantic affairs, they hadn’t even kissed and Wren was already getting carried away?

While he wanted to have a more intimate encounter with the beastren, Wren closed his mouth and decided against arguing, maybe Beren was having second thoughts about taking the dark hair elf to his bedroll. He didn’t blame him, they had more pressing matters to deal with and-

“Mmph!”

His mind went blank for a second.

Only when the feeling of warm lips and soft fur pressed against his mouth brought the elf back to the previous moment. A large hand held Wren’s cheek, coaxing him to lean further into the kiss. Wren’s own hand snaked up and his fingers weaved through Beren’s thick mane, gods, he wanted more. He needed more. But just as quickly as the kiss happened, it ended, Beren slowly pulled away and stared into the elf’s glazed eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle. “You are something else.” Beren whispered, his voice low and caused Wren to shiver in delight. “Next time...”

Next time?

Blinking away the dream haze, Wren stared back at the beastren. Had he really...?

He had.

Now, it was Wren’s turn to grin. “Yes. Next time.”

And that was a promise.

Beren give the male elf one more kiss and whispered an affectionate ‘good night’, he stood up and gave Asharae a polite nod and a ‘good night’ to her as well then headed towards his tent, ready to turn in for the night. It went quiet after that. The only sounds being heard as Asharae walking over to her brother and sitting beside him, she didn’t utter a single word, just kicked her legs lightly and tapped her fingers on the stony ledge.

Fine. If she wasn’t going to bring it up, then Wren would.

“Was that revenge? Are you mad at me for offering our aid without discussing it with you first?”

Asharae didn’t answer.

“You can be honest. The fate of the stew doesn’t hang in the balance.”

She side eyed him for a moment, trying to see if he was pulling her leg or not about the stew and when she saw no tell on Wren’s face, Asharae shook her head and turned her gaze to the glowing flowers. Just staring at them brought a sense of calm. “No. I’m not mad at you for wanting to help Ser Beren, I followed you here knowing that you were looking for him and t’was a given that you would offer aught in exchange for him aiding the people of Melve.”

“Then why did you look like a goblin chewing a wasp when I offered?”

Asharae elbowed him in the side for that comment.

“I don’t know, I think...” This was becoming an issue and Asharae was very aware of it. She was losing her temper at the drop of a hat and while she had always been quick to jump into a fight, it was never this bad. “I think I was angry at myself.”

She could blame it on the Queen Regent.

She could blame it on the dragon.

She could even blame her temper on all the bigots and bastards they encountered before even setting foot in Vermund. Gods know that they had more than their fair share of run in’s with them but Asharae knew that they weren’t to blame for her actions now. But no matter how often life threw shit at them, Wren stood strong. He never let it warp his view on life or his desire to be kind to those around him.

“You’ve always been like this. E’er since we were young, you would bend o’er backwards to help someone, tis always the same and I don’t understand why I still get annoyed at it. I don’t resent you for your actions, I admire your kindness but I suppose I resent the people who try to take advantage of you for it… And that was before, when your mind didn’t have more holes in it than our socks but now, you’re vulnerable, Wren.” Some nights Asharae tried to reason her actions by telling herself that it was all for Wren’s own good, that he wasn’t in his right mind and there was danger lurking around every corner but that wasn’t true either. “I don’t want to see you being hurt.”

Thinking back, they hadn’t actually sat down and spoke about the events of the last few months. Anytime they tried it always ended up on the topic of what they were going to do next, never how were they feeling about what just happened. And Wren was internally kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner. “Have a little faith, dear sister. My mind isn’t so broken that I am unable to see when I am being taken advantage of.”

“Hmmm, then what was your excuse before the curse?”

“You cheeky little...” The pair ended up in a half hearted scramble, both siblings trying to reach other and tickle the other only for the other to grab the opposing hands and push back against the effort. Eventually, Asharae ended up cuddling into her brother’s side, her head resting on his shoulder and while one of Wren’s arm was wrapped around her shoulders. “I’m going to try and control my temper more from now on, I swear. You have enough shit to deal with… I don’t want to add to it.” She swore.

Wren kissed the top of her head then rested his check against it, returning his focus back to the field of moonglow. “How about from now on, when you feel the urge to break a human’s nose, we go hunting for goblins?”

“I’d prefer to crush some choppers.”

The older elf laughed. “Then we will go chopper hunting.”

“Does anyone in this kingdom have any gold of their own?” Asharae wondered while tossing a stone off the ledge. “Between our standing debt with your little Sven, no equipment being sent to the encampment for recruits and the state of Melve, I feel as though we have done naught but give loans to people we hardly know. And we do not have the coin to spare on a good day.”

“Tis to be expected when the kingdom is ruled by a tyrant.”

“Could be fixed with an arrow to the eye of said tyrant.”

“Have you always been this bloodthirsty or is it a recent development? Not all issues can be fixed with violence and death.”

“Most can.”

“It should ne’er be the first choice.”

“Bleeding heart!”

“A missing heart cannot bleed.”

Asharae hummed and closed her eyes. ‘ Perhaps a missing heart cannot bleed but it hasn’t stopped you from caring. ’

Chapter Text

Things were finally starting to look up.

Being ever the stubborn elf that she was, Asharae refused to believe that moonglow couldn’t be used in alchemy, Wren tried to shut her up before she offended Beren but the beastren let out a hearty laugh and welcomed Asharae’s efforts to make discoveries that he hadn’t. After all, he was a warrior, he knew the uses of various potions but didn’t know how to make the more complicated potions. If Asharae could find a use for moonglow then he wanted to know about it.

Before leaving, Beren offered her a generous number of moonglow cuts and taught her how to harvest the seeds if she was interested in growing her own supply.

The return to Vernworth went far smoother than when they left. Mildred returned early and the elves were fully expecting her to want her home back, but the aspiring adventurer was bursting with excitement and eager to share the tales of what she had saw. Wren had tried to explain that they would need a couple of hours to pack their belongings and then he would happily sign the deed to the house back over to Mildred, but she cut him off. She there was no need to sign the home back over to her because she had no intention of living here any more.

Wherever her travels took her, Mildred wanted to stay there.

She said she would be happy to sign complete owner ship of the house over to the siblings but she would need payment in return, funds for finding a new place to live and such. This was a lot to take in.

Wren wasn’t sure what to say.

He wanted to say ‘yes’ but this was a huge decision and he couldn’t make it without talking it through with Asharae. Living in Vernworth was completely different that just renting a home or staying at the inn and Wren had to think about all of their comfort, not just where they rested their head at night but Asharae’s discomfort around humans. He was ready to ask Mildred if they could have the day to think her offer over but Asharae got there first.

And accepted.

Wren’s mouth couldn’t form words as he watched his self admitted human hating sister reach out and shake Mildred’s hand and wish the woman luck in her travels. With the gold in hand Mildred wished them luck in their own ventures as she left.

And when the door closed behind her, Wren turned back to his sister. Eyes wide and still lost for words, stumbling out half formed word and Asharae grinned back at him, practically radiating pride. “Well, why can’t I be the impulsive one?” She challenged.

Wren scoffed and rolled his eyes.

His dear sister was always impulsive just not in a peaceful way.

But here they were!

Official home owners in a human city.

What would the people of their village think if they could see Wren and Asharae now?

And that is how they found themselves making more permanent changes to the home, which were limited given the small space but it was a start. “Mayhaps we should invest in bedrolls that we keep here.” Wren suggested as tied their bedrolls back to their packs from where he was sat on the ground. “Think about it. If we obtain a couple of bedrolls for just here, then they will surely last longer than the ones we carry with us when we travel. Hawke, no. Tis not food or a play thing.” He waved his hand at the overly curious falcon that flew down next to him and started pecking at the bedroll ties, trying to untie all of Wren’s hard work.

Spreading out her wings, Hawke screeched out in defiance then fluttered away to bother Nug who was using a broom to clear away any cobwebs from the rafters and roof areas. And when the pawn had her back turned, Hawke would try and swoop down to snatch a few grapes from the plates of fruit that Nug was eating, she shooed the bird away with each attempt. It wasn’t as very effective, Hawke didn’t take Nug seriously.

Wren watched the display and let out a heavy sigh as tucked his legs under him and leaned back to rest his weight on his heels.

They had been cleaning non-stop for a few hours now and with Mildred’s early return, they didn’t have time for breakfast. And now that he was thinking about food, Wren’s stomach let out a hungry rumble.

“Forget what I said about bedrolls, I suggest we eat. How does that sound?”

“You owe me stew!” Asharae announced as she lifted her head up from the planters she was working on so they could start growing their own small supply. They would still have to scavenge out in the wilds for the majority of what they would use but it was always good to have a back up source.

But back to the stew that he promised he would make.

Okay, that was fair.

“I know, I did promise but I also promised you the freshest vegetables, didn’t I?”

“Then what are you sitting around here for? Go get those vegetables before someone else buys them! Go on!”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Wren said with a laugh as he got up and tied the laces closed on his tunic, he was so use to wearing it open that sometimes he had to be reminded that they were technically in hiding and walking around with his chest, more importantly, his scar in view would be a huge sign to any sentinels that were loyal to the Queen Regent to be on the look out for him. “Would you like to accompany me, Nug?” He asked while picking up an empty satchel.

“Hmm? Oh, if it does not displease you, Master, I would prefer to stay and aid Asharae in organizing our home.”

“I am more than fine with that- Hey!”

“Less chatter, more leaving.” Asharae ordered as she pushed her brother out the door.

“Such a pushy sister!”

“And don’t come back until you have dinner!”

-

If there was one thing Wren hadn’t forgotten about himself and it was that he loved anything to do with food and cooking.

Asharae said one night that when they were still at home, their mother taught them all to cook for themselves so they could be more self reliant on their journey and would save money on tavern food but Wren took to it like a fish to water while Asharae took more of an interest in herbalism and crafting healing salves and brews. Maybe that was a good thing, it meant he could makes sure their bellies were never empty and Asharae stopped there wounds from becoming infected, they were a balanced team.

Though his sister had a fair share of stories involving times where her healing brews were mixed up with Wren’s broth, they had been chased out of the village they were visit for selling ‘fake’ brews.

In Wren’s opinion they should have noticed the mix up sooner. How many healing brews smelled like seasoned chicken broth?

Ah, he was letting himself get side tracked when he should be on the look out for the freshest vegetables and the ingredients to make honey sweets. Something they haven’t had since before coming to Vermund but Wren intended on making as not just a surprise treat but to show that he appreciated Asharae’s efforts in not being openly hostile towards humans. It was also when planning on making the sweets that he realized that Nug had never tried them, that just wouldn’t do. Nug was one of the family now and she deserved to experience the same small joys that he and Asharae had when growing up.

Of course, Wren took the extra time to stop by Auriol’s stall and see how he and Flora were keeping. It was a happy visit, both humans were pleased to see Wren in good health and even asked about the well being of Asharae and Nug. They even praised the Arisen for all the work he had been doing keeping the monster attacks outside the city down, this was a shock, Wren had no idea that their efforts would reach the ears of the people this fast.

Captain Brant must be pleased too.

‘I should pay a visit to the good captain at some point and reassure him that all is well, if a little slow.’ He thought.

Before he could leave, Auriol reminded Wren that is discount was still in effect, he just got a new shipment of goods in and Wren should count himself luck because that meant he had first look before anyone else. The elf saw right through the sales tactic but didn’t have it in him to outright say ‘no’ and that is how Wren ended up with four new romance tomes stuffed in his satchel. It wasn’t like they were expensive or anything, but he could already hear Asharae groan when she sees them.

Hmmm, he won’t mention it until after dinner when they were all sated with full bellies.

First, he had to buy dinner.

“Boy, stand aside! Yer blocking people!” A gruff voice shouted.

“Oh, apologies. I didn’t mean... I-I will just move o’er there.”

Now, there was a voice Wren knew.

Looking over his shoulder, a smile immediately graced Wren’s lips when he spotted a familiar attire of expensive clothes and the nervous face of the person wearing them. ‘ Sven! ’ The boy awkwardly stepped away from a stall that was selling carrots and potatoes, letting people past him but didn’t leave. He tried to act aloof while also sneaking glances at the people and trying to see what they were buying. And just like with Auriol, each time the stall owner caught Sven staring, Sven turned away as fast as he could.

‘The poor thing doesn’t have a discreet bone in his body.’ Wren thought, laughing under his breath.

He should probably step in and guide Sven away before someone reports him for loitering. So adjusting the satchel on his shoulder, Wren headed over to Sven, who still hadn’t noticed the elf, and tapped the younger’s shoulder. “Looking to purchase food this time?” Wren asked.

Sven let out a surprised gasp and whipped around to meet the familiar, friendly smile. “Ser Wren! You startled me!” The elf’s smile slipped and he looked apologetic. Scaring Sven was becoming a regular thing, it appeared. “Forgive me, I meant no harm.”

“Oh, no. T’was a harmless jape, I am sure.”

“Regardless, I did not mean to startle you, my dear.” He repeated then glanced around, tryng to pin point why the lad was hanging around here. “Pardon my intrusion but I must ask, what exactly are you doing here? ‘Tis a far cry from your first purchase.”

“Oh, I was just browsing. I am not seeking to expand me debt to you, I swear.” Sven laughed nervously, eyes flickering down to the satchel resting against Wren’s hip. No wonder all the merchants thought him to be a thief, if Wren hadn’t witnessed the boy’s lack of basic social skills then he would also think that Sven was waiting for an opportunity to grab his satchel and make a run for it just from how he was looking at the bag. He looked back up at Wren and asked. “Are you shopping today?” His voice going up slightly at the end, betraying any kind of interest he was trying to hide.

‘Why hide your interest?’ Wren couldn’t help but wonder. Sven had been very guarded since the moment they first met, always looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching him but there was no danger in admitting he was curious about the market place. “I am. I have to purchase produce for my sister, friend and I.”

He should really get back to that before all the best vegetables were bought up. “Speaking of which, I must return to that task so I shall bid you fare well, my dear, and try to avoid getting in more trouble while I am gone.”

With a playful bow, Wren was ready to leave and silently hope that Sven would be alright. Ah, what was he worried about?

Sven might be naive but he wasn’t clueless, he would be fine. He was fine. Wren didn’t have to worry.

“Wait.”

Wren halted and turned back to Sven instantly. The lad wrung his hands together as he opened his mouth and asked. “May I accompany you? I’m rather unfamiliar with the market, as t’were, and I promise not to get in your way, I won’t utter even a sound. All I wish is to...”

“To?”

“You’ll think me foolish.”

“I would ne’er think that.”

“I would like to witness how the common people go about shopping. When I bought the ornate box, oh, just thinking about that moment fills my heart with unfiltered joy, but that was my purchase and not something that most people would buy on a daily basis.” When he initially wanted to buy it, Sven had no knowledge on why it was so expensive or why Auriol was wouldn’t just take his word that he would bring back the needed coin later. Then when he asked Wren for a loan of coin, he was met with the same bewildered reaction but Wren took the time to mention it was a large sum of coin he was asking for.

Sven spent the following days thinking about those words while admiring the ornate box.

Was a thousand coin really a lot to ask for? It didn’t seem like that much to Sven or was that just further evidence of how little he truly understood about the world?

The more he thought about it, the more the second choice was more likely and it lead to more thoughts in the young man’s head. If a thousand gold was so much then that meant that something like the ornate box was not a casual purchase, so what did count as a regular purchase for everyday people?

And it is what lead Sven to spending this outing in the market place. He tried to linger around the stands so he could watch the sales happening and hear what the prices for food were but he was running into the same issue he did when trying to buy the ornate box. The merchants thought he was a thief waiting for them to turn their backs so he could steal their produce. Sven was about ready to call it quits for the day when Wren suddenly appeared and now, he already asked so much of the older man that he should expect Wren to eventually say ‘no’ but instead Wren offered his arm to the younger. “Shall we?”

Sven was stunned. His cornflower blue eyes darted between Wren’s face and arm, not entirely believing that he was getting this chance despite the fact that the older man has done nothing but agree to his every request since they met. “Really?”

“Really. But stay close, can’t have the stall owners thinking you are a lingering thief, can we?”

“Oh, of course!” He looped his arm with Wren’s and beamed up at him. “You shan’t hear a single sound from me, I swear!”

-

True to his word, Sven was quiet the entire time.

He had many questions but he held his tongue.

The vow of silence didn’t stop him from watching every move of Wren and the people around him with the focus of a hawk, picking up on the smallest tick of the dark haired man’s behaviour. Like how Wren would offer a polite bow and a charming smile to each stall owner, how he would call everyone ‘my dear’.

Every time he inquired about the produce, Wren would ask follow up questions about the merchants’ personal lives and how things were on the farms if they were were farmers or just the one that sold the produce. Sven learned a lot in those conversations. He learned that while the people outside Vernworth’s walls were content with their humble lives, the increased number of monster attacks were starting to effect the number of crops they could harvest at the end of the season or if any live stock were killed. Apparently, a griffin had made the oxen fields it’s new hunting ground.

‘I don’t understand, shouldn’t the guards be dealing with these beasts? If not them, then who is protecting our people?’ Sven wondered, this was something he would have to think more on later. Right now, he just wanted to enjoy this little journey around the market with his friend.

To distract himself from these upsetting thoughts, Sven went back to watching Wren. He noticed when Wren wasn’t paying attention to what he was reaching for, his fingers brushed against a pumpkin and when he noticed what he was touching, Wren pulled his hand back so fast like he had just been burned. Even going as far as to glare at the orange vegetable, mouth the word ‘no’ at it then quickly usher Sven to the next stall. ‘ He does not like pumpkin? I will have to remember this. ’ Sven thought, bowing his head to hide his growing smile. And when Wren opened his satchel to put away what he was buying, Sven was able to catch a look inside and see the books. He didn’t recognize any of the titles for the top of his head but he could search the library in the palace later if they had the same titles.

One thing that Sven couldn’t distract himself from, no matter how hard he tried, was the warmth he felt from how close he was to Wren.

He tried to remind himself that it meant nothing. Wren was the one that insisted they should keep their arms linked to avoid being separated in the busy crowd. Any time a person bumped into Sven, Wren would stop to make sure he was okay and ask if he wanted to take a break from the crowd. Sven declined each time, always saying that he was fine. Once Wren’s worries were eased, they continued on their way and Sven would push the urge to move closer to the elf, just to feel more of the warmth that made his heart beat faster.

The rest of the outing went by with nothing noteworthy happening. They stopped in front of a stall with pastries so Wren could take stock of what he purchased but there was a disappointed look on his face, was there something he wasn’t able to find?

“I must offer my apologies.” Wren began. “This outing must have been rather dull, I’m afraid that shopping is not the most exciting activity in the world.”

That’s what was bothering him?

He believed that Sven had been bored this entire time?!

“Heavens, no, do not think that, my friend! While it may seem mundane to most, I assure you that I have enjoyed myself immensely!” When Sven mentioned longing to experience the simpler things in life, such as shopping for himself, he really meant it. And, yes, this outing wasn’t to buy Sven anything but that didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying tagging along with Wren as the older man bought food and interacted with the people of Vernworth.

The young man envied that freedom so much.

“You cook for yourself, yes?” Sven questioned as he stared at the now heavy satchel, filled with food, to think that people knew how to cook edible meals with that. If he was put on the spot Sven wouldn’t even know where to begin in making a proper meal.

Wren followed his gaze to the satchel. “That is correct. I do most of the cooking for myself, my sister and friend.” He explained, he knew at this point that Sven was a noble and that the lad had likely never set foot in a kitchen so to see such honest curiousity, it left Wren speechless. To him, curiousity was always good but he wasn’t sure how to answer Sven’s questions so of the time, the younger was absorbing his words like a sponge and it made Wren scared that he might be unintentionally leading him to believe that life of anyone who wasn’t in the ranks of nobility wasn’t without struggles.

“But I assure you, my dear. To be able to cook us a meal with this much variety is a rare treat, most people make due on basic meals such a porridge, soups and then there is the entire process of drying meat to preserve it.” To cost of the salt it took to do that, it physically hurt Wren to hand over that much coin.

“But you do not take it for granted.” Sven countered. “You are are aware of the hard work that went into growing and protecting these crops and then the coin earned to purchase them. And no one would dare cast shame on you for for eating more simple food because of those reasons.” A forlorn sigh escaped the lad’s lips as he turned back to the table filled with baked goods, they all looked so good and far more appealing that the fancy, tiny cakes that Sven would eat during social gatherings. “Mother would ne’er allow me to indulge in the food of the common folks, she says it is beneath me.” He explained, completely missing the offended glare the merchant of the stall was giving him for insulting her hand made sweets and pastries. Luckily, Wren caught it. He gave the woman an apologetic look and an awkward smile as he placed his hand on Sven’s shoulder. “He doesn’t get out much.” Wren quickly lied.

Sven looked up at the elf, confusion clear on his face then back to the merchant, it was then he realized his mistake. “Oh! My apologies! I-I meant no offense!” He stuttered out but the merchant, a middle aged woman with her grey brown hair tied back by a shawl, didn’t appear to be in a forgiving mood today. “You nobles...” She sneered out and Sven turned a shade paler, his eyes darting around in fear that they were attracting unwanted attention. “You ‘ave no clue ‘ow much work us common folks put in each day jus’ to make sure we can ‘ave enough to eat an’ pay rent.”

“Pray, I meant no harm. I simply- I’m sorry...”

Thankfully, Wren decided to take mercy on the boy. He gave Sven’s shoulder a small squeeze, hoping the lad would know enough to stop rambling but made him squeak in shock instead. Again, he wasn’t use to anyone touching him so casually or without asking first. “My dear lady, I am afraid the fault lies with me.” Wren lied. Sven opened his mouth to correct the man but Wren squeezed his shoulder again and his mouth snapped shut. “You see, this lad is my charge and he slipped from my side the moment I took my eye from him. He is a curious sort and likes to explore, you see, but doesn’t understand there are unpleasant characters roaming around just waiting to take advantage.”

“You?!” The disbelief in the woman’s voice was not lost on Wren. “One of your ilk is the caretaker for this boy?!”

‘His ilk?’ Sven thought, what was wrong with keeping Wren’s company?

There weren’t many opportunities for Sven to sit and have a casual conversation with the man, and even less for the company he had seen the older man keep, but even in the handful of encounters they did have; Wren had been nothing but kind and generous to him. How many strangers would lie for a person who collided with for a brief moment then dashed off with no explanation for that behaviour? And then give that same stranger a thousand gold to buy a trinket?

No, there was nothing wrong with Wren or his ilk.

Sven was sure of it.

“And why not?” Wren countered with a tilt of his head and a tight smile on his face, challenging the woman’s bigotry. “Surely with one of my ilk acting as his escort, this young man is more unlikely to be approached but the less than friendly sort.” The woman shifted uncomfortably, her face still not dropping that judgmental expression but she looked as though she was beginning to buy Wren’s lies. “Even so, with his breedin’ the boy should learn some manners. Goin’ ‘round and insultin’ people’s livelyhoods, tis rude.”

Okay, so far, so good. He could let the comments about him being an elf slide, he had done it many times before but the difference now was ensuring that the woman wouldn’t call over the sentinels and have them notice Sven was in a place he wasn’t meant to me. Or be arrested himself. Wren wanted to avoid having to explain to Asharae that we was arrested while buying their dinner, if his identity wasn’t on the line then he knew that Asharae would be tempted to leave him in the gaol over night to teach him a lesson about spending time with nobility.

“Mayhaps if I were to purchase some of your fine goods, we could forgive and forget this little fumble in his words? I promise you, my dear lady, he means no harm. He is just a little...” Wren looked over Sven and tried to find the right word to explain his odd behaviour without insulting the lad or the merchant. “Sheltered.”

The merchant seemed placated as her stance became more relaxed and the tension left her brow.

“Well, I won’ say no to a payin’ customer but make sure he ‘as learned some manners if he plans on showin’ his face ‘round here again.”

Wren grinned.

Crisis successfully avoid.

-

With a newly purchased jar of honey and small number of glazed pastries, Wren lead Sven over to the steps leading up to the Pawn Guild so they could enjoy the sugary treat and the view of the fountain with the open package of pastries between them so they could help themselves.

It was nice.

Or, it would be nice if Wren hadn’t noticed that Sven hasn’t said a word since the interaction with the merchant or eaten any of the pastries.

Instead, he was staring at nothing while lightly chewing on his bottom lip.

Wren wasn’t about to let the lad stew in his own thoughts.

“Honey sweet for your thoughts?”

Huh?

Sven blinked and glanced up at Wren.

The elf wasn’t looking back at him though, he was more interested in devouring the sweet pastry in one bite. Even going as far as to lick his fingers afterwards, if Sven displayed such behaviour at dinner, he could already hear the gasps of disbelief. “I’m sorry?” He asked back, not catching what Wren was hinting at. Wren swallowed the remains of the pastry and spoke. “You look troubled. Clearly, there is aught on your mind.”

Oh, there was.

So much that Sven wasn’t sure where to begin or if Wren would even listen to all his worries.

Maybe his worries weren’t that serious and he was over thinking. The troubles of the common people were far more impactful and life altering than those of the nobles and magisters, most of who were mainly concerned with which tailored outfit they should wear to the next masquerade and whether they would be the topic of good or bad gossip because of it. It was shallow and Sven despised it.

“I do not wish to ramble o’er naught.”

“Ramble away. I am here to listen.”

“Then, I suppose...” Oh, where to start? “That woman, how was she able to deduce that I am not one of the town’s people?” He wondered, were his efforts to blend in all in vain?

“That would be your clothes, my dear Sven. They are a bit of a give away that you have more gold than most.” Granted, Wren should have picked up on that much sooner than he did when they first met.

“My clothes? But I thought-!” Sven gapped at the idea. Staring down at his clothes and comparing them to what Wren was wearing, the elf wasn’t caked in mud and monsters blood for once or wearing protective leather gear. Just a simple tunic, breeches and comfortable boots and in comparison... yes, Sven’s clothes were clearly more expensive. How could he have over looked such an important detail. “I picked these because I thought they would blend in more than my usual attire. Make me look like one of the common folk.” And now to find out that all his effort were done in vain, Sven felt even more cut off from the people of Vernworth. Sven owned many finely crafted clothes and he at least knew that was not common for everyone, so he spent hours searching through his vast wardrobe to find something, anything that would help him blend in.

“Clothing only hides so much. Your manner of speaking also hints that you are not the urchin some sentinels believe you to be.”

That was obvious too?!

With his shoulders slummed, Sven sunk further into the steps and let out a small whine of defeat. “I... I see...”

“You also let it slip a number of times that you hail from the palace.”

A cold feeling of fear ran down Sven’s spine.

He said that?

How could he have been so careless to let such sensitive information slip?! In his silent scramble to think of an excuse as to why he said he came from the palace, Sven didn’t notice Wren reach over and gently take his hand until he felt a small squeeze. He let out a tiny gasp and looked at the elf, who was watching him with concern. “Now, I know naught of what you are hiding, tis not my place to question it further but I cannot help but worry. So if you will indulge me for a moment then I will drop the subject entirely.”

Part of Sven wanted to keep his mouth shut, his mother’s words echoing in his mind and telling him not to trust anyone outside of the palace walls because they would take advantage of Sven’s gentle heart and hurt him. But Wren wasn’t like that. Wren has been nothing but kind to him, he wanted to be able to trust the older man so with a slight nod, he took a deep breath and prepared for whatever he was about to be asked. “I... That seems fair.”

“Is the reason for your secrecy because your life would be in danger?”

“No. There is no threat to my own safety.” At least not from the palace.

Outside though, Sven wants to make that judgement for himself.

“Do I or anyone else face the threat of punishment for interacting with you?”

“No, I do not believe so... At most I would receive a harsh scolding.” Sven wouldn’t let the elf face any punishment just being his friend. He would find some way of protecting the elf from any unjust punishment he might face for these interaction.

“Then you have my silence on the matter.”

“Thank you, friend.”

He could breathe a sigh of relief now.

And when Wren let go of his hand he felt a little colder. There was the urge to reach out and take the older man’s hand in his again and bask in the skin to skin contact, a sensation that Sven was not familiar with but he didn’t do that out of fear that Wren would find him strange. He was ready to distract himself by putting his hands in his pockets or fidgeting with the edge of his waist coat when a pastry entered his frame of view.

“Here. Taste it.” Wren offered the pastry and Sven made another mistake.

His pale eyes flicked between Wren’s kind face and the glazed food he was offering, his tongue darted out for a brief moment to wet his lips then Sven slowly leaned forward and took a bite of the pastry. Instantly, he was met with the mouth watering blend of warm, flakey dough and sweet honey glaze. It was so simple but utterly new and delicious to him. If his tutors and mother could see him licking the crumbs off his lips instead of using a napkin to daintily wipe them away, Sven was sure they would be scandalized. And over something so silly too! Sven couldn’t help but giggle at the mental image.

“Tis delicious, good ser! You have my than-” Pausing in his praise, Sven finally took in Wren’s expression and noticed he was no longer giving that kind smile but instead was a look of jaw dropping shock on a very red faced. And Sven realized his mistake.

He wasn’t meant to eat the pastry from Wren’s hand.

Sven’s hand instantly covered his mouth, trying to hide the pink colouring his cheeks and his own stammering. “I- I did not mean to- I thought you-” Why did he think that of all things?! Sven might be sheltered even he knew that was not normal behaviour between friends! With his empty hand, he took the left over pastry and hurried to eat the rest of it as he kept his eyes downcast on his lap, he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with Wren right now.

But he had to say something.

Anything to break the awkwardness between them.

“W-What did that woman mean by ‘one of your ilk’?” He hurried to ask, not just to change the subject but it was one of the questions that hand been floating around the young man’s head.

He was met with silence.

Wren was staring down at his hand, lightly rubbing his fingertips together as he tried to process the tingling feeling from where they brushed against Sven’s lips and it spread to his gut, forming a knot. It was only the briefest touch and he shouldn’t be thinking this hard on it, it was just a misunderstanding on Sven’s part and he shouldn’t dwell on it even those it made Wren’s pulse race. More so than that kiss with Beren did. Who knew that was even possible without a heart?

“Ser Wren?”

“Huh? Oh, yes! She meant that I am elven and you are human. Our people rarely interact, if at all. Humans tends to dislike my ilk.” Wren hurried out, rubbing his hands against his breeches and clearing his throat. That’s what Glyndwr and Brant said, anyway. And the lack of elves in Vernworth.

Sven was confused by this information. He always believed Vernworth to be a welcoming country, if beastren and humans were able to live together then shouldn’t elves feel comfortable to come here too? “Why though? ‘Tis true you are the only elven person I have e’er met but still, you have been naught but kind, patient and generous. What could be more noble?”

“You flatter me, my dear.” That tingling feeling in his stomach only grew. If more humans were like Sven then maybe elves would feel more comfortable coming into large cities, and maybe the ones that were like Asharae wouldn’t have this deep seated fear that made them resort to harsh words or even violence. “But I am afraid not all people are as sweet as you. Some humans believe my people to be forest dwelling barbarians, a few nasty stares and muttered slurs are naught compared to having rotten food or stones thrown in your direction for simply existing.” What a horrible time for memories of that to come back to him. Wren couldn’t tell if the pain in his head was one of his regular migraines making an appearance or the phantom pain of being hit with a rock suddenly coming back to him.

No, it was the phantom pain.

He could remember it clearly now.

They had been walking down the path of a village they were resting at, talking about nothing in particular and from the corner of his eye Wren saw him. A young boy, maybe around fourteen, leaning around a nearby corner with a glint of malice in his eye and an apple size stone in his hand.

The boy drew his hand back and launched the stone, aiming for the back of an unsuspecting Asharae but Wren got in the way.

He remembers the throbbing pain, Asharae’s mixed shouts of rage at the boy, concern for her brother and the feeling of warm blood trickling through his hair and down the side of his face. Wren reach up and touched the spot where the spot made contact, he obviously couldn’t see it for himself but he recalls being told it caused a scar and he was lucky that his short, thick hair hid it from view.

“That is not fair.” Sven’s voice was quiet, sad.

Wren turn his head to finally look back at the human, if he still had his heart then it would break at the sight of the sadness on the lad’s face. Those cornflower blue eyes were so big and filled with empathy, it really was like looking at a baby deer. “No. Tis not.” Wren agreed, then moved his foot over to playfully nudge Sven’s and smiled. “But the good ones like you make it better.”

“Ser Wren, would-”

“Why is it whene’er you go off on your own, someone always distracts you from the task at hand?”

A shadow cast over the, the figure blackout from the sun but the stern posture, hands on their hips and long hair fluttering in the breeze was all Wren needed to know who it was. The tired tone was give away too. So Wren smirked and lounged back against the steps then nodded towards Sven. “He is better company than you.”

What he had been expected was a sarcastic retort about how Asharae was more fun than whoever her brother was spending time with, or at the very least a snort and roll over her eyes, but none of that happened.

Instead, her gaze was fixed firmly on Sven.

And Wren didn’t like it one bit.

This was not the usual judgmental stare she would give humans. There was a cold air about her. And it worried Wren greatly that he couldn’t read her expression, she wouldn’t do something stupid like make a scene, he was sure of that but what she might say once they were back home, that was anyone’s guess. “You are the one who owes us a dept.” She finally spoke and Sven visibly shrunk. Wren could feel the second hand embarrassment radiating off him, why did Asharae have to call him out on this?

“Yes, but I fully intend on repaying you both!”

“He already made a payment.” Wren cut in, sending his sister a harsh glare but she wasn’t phased. She wasn’t even looking at him as she still stared down the human.

Asharae nodded and let out an uninterested hum.

“I have an errand to run myself, I will meet you here when I am finished and we can go home.”

“Yes, mother!” Her brother called out, chuckling softly.

In a normal situation he would have let the interaction slide but given that Asharae’s bitter attitude was directed at Sven this time, it wasn’t that easy. His amusement was quickly replaced with remorse as he hung his head forward and rubbed his forehead.

“Pray, accept my apologies on behalf of my sister’s cold words. She is not the most social person.” And he didn’t want to say that this was Asharae behaving herself. Sven shook his head and petted Wren’s leg, only to pull his hand back as his cheeks began to heat up again, it felt too soon to make physical contact given his little mistake earlier. “I am not offended.” Sven spoke then stood up and brushed the small collection of crumbs off his breeches. Then let out a startled gasp when the rebundled package of pastries was pushed into his hands with Wren standing in front of him. Then elf hand moved down a couple of steps so he didn’t have to crouch down to make eye contact with Sven.

“Here.” He said, placing the package in Sven’s hands.

There was another pause between them as Sven took a moment to to appreciate the small physical contact. Their hands were barely touching, it was just their fingers brushing against each other but he never realized how starved he was for the smallest show of contact and while Wren wasn’t nearly as touched starved, he was entranced with the differences between them both too.

They had to part ways eventually.

“Tis time for me to take my leave before mother notices my absence.” Sven reluctantly explains, he wanted to stay but each minute he was gone furthered the risk that a sentinel would notice him missing and hunt him down. They wouldn’t tell his mother though, not if they valued their position in the guard, that is. “This day has been most informative, I shall treasure it always. And thank you again for these pastries.” He paused again, looking as though he had more to say but was holding back.

“Fare well, my friend.”

Wren gave him a small bow. “Take care, my dear.”

-

Why was it always when he wasn’t talking with someone that Asharae was nowhere to be seen?

He had the brief idea that Asharae followed Sven home just to interrogate him over the dept but quickly shook that thought from his head, she was the one that was always telling him to keep a low profile so there was no way that Asharae would go back on her own rule just to get some coin back from a sheltered noble like Sven. Even if she did get a kick out of scaring the nobility like Wren suspected.

She was probably trying to haggle with that curative merchant.

Wren wouldn’t get involved in that. He was still ticked off at the man for trying to rip him off.

But waiting here was growing increasingly dull.

Wren slumped back against the steps, legs stretched out and leaning his head back to stare up at the clouds. Letting his mind drift. ‘I wonder why griffins ne’er attack the city when there are no ballista to protect them? I suppose there is little to no room for them to land and a human must pale in comparison to an oxen when it comes to a meal, still the city could benefit from a ballista or two on the off chance one lone griffin decides to press its-’

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Brought back from his mindless thoughts, Wren turned his head to the side to see a pair of sentinels nailing a missive to a- was that a notice board? Where had that come from!? He didn’t see that earlier!

Usually, seeing sentinel post any kind of missive was never a good thing.

It was either an official announcement from the Queen Regent or whoever was in power or a ‘wanted’ notice.

The latter thought brought on a feeling of fear in the elven man, if it was a criminal missive then could it be about him or Asharae? He couldn’t just march over there and see what was being posted, if it was about him then the sentinels would arrest him on sight so Wren had to bide his time and wait for them to leave and they were taking their sweet time. Didn’t they have patrolling to do? Maybe look for actual criminals instead of falsely accused elves and a secretive noble lad?

When the sentinels finally stopped chatting and laughing between themselves and finally decided to leave, Wren sat and prepared to venture over and satisfy his curiosity when more people headed over to the notice board and started pinning their own missives. That was unexpected.

And only spiked the Arisen’s curiosity even more.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, carefully stepping around the crowd and using his height to look over the shorter people to see what they were posting. “An announcement from the palace?” It wasn’t the inevitable announcement about coronation, was it? No, Brant would have warned him before hand and it was much too soon for that, according to the captain things were tense in the palace to the point the Disa was pushing the coronation back while claiming it to be because the false arisen was still to sickly to attend such an event.

One of the merchants spared Wren a glance and shook his head. “Naught like that, the sentinels are putting up a notice board for the people to use.”

“For… sales purposes?”

“Mercenary work.”

Things really had gotten bad if the demands for mercenary work had gotten so high that a notice board had to be built just so the people could voice their complaints. And the number of missives that were pinned to the board, so many that the wood of the board was barely visible and where they really all mercenary work? What were the sentinels doing all day if they weren’t protecting the people of this kingdom? Sitting on their arses and getting drunk on ale?

Thinking back on the state of Melve, Wren dreaded travelling to Harve and the distant Check Point Town and seeing what state those places were in.

And with those thoughts in his head, Wren knew he should turn around, go back to the steps of the Pawn Guild and wait for Asharae so they can go home and start dinner. But as much as his brain urged him to return to the steps, his legs wouldn’t let him.

One small glance at the board wouldn’t hurt, right?

So that’s what he did.

Glossing over each post, Wren felt his interest be peaked. Some were requests for a protective escort to and from Vernworth, part time bodyguard duty for the oxen carts and supply shipments. Requests for hard to obtain materials and monster parts, there were a couple of missing people posts, those pulled on his empathy the most. But the majority of the requests were for monster culling, those shouldn’t have kept Wren’s attention, monster culling was the most common request for both guards and sell swords but what kept bringing him back to those requests were the promised payments.

One thousand gold?!

And just for killing a few goblins?

And that was just the missive he was old, he quickly scanned over a few others and they were offering similar jobs and all paid well so wasting no time, Wren stuffed the missive he was holding into his tunic with a grin on his face.

As long as the sentinels weren’t going to do their job, it looks like Wren and Asharae’s money worries were over.

-

“One thousand gold? For killing goblins?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s just goblins? Not hobgoblins? Or choppers or those bastard knackers in Battahl?”

What were knackers?

“No. I read it four times before finding you. Tis only goblins and they made themselves home near the oxen fields so we don’t even have to travel far!”

Asharae looked between the notice then her brother and then back at the notice before letting out a huff, blowing away the loose hair that was hanging in front of her face. “And we have been breaking our backs and wasting time hunting down monster packs to sell their parts?! We have been taken for fools this entire time!” Well, that was one way to look at it. Wren let out a small hum and shrugged. “I would argue that we did those tasks to help the people of Vermund but yes, in hindsight, we may have been taken advantage of.”

The pair continued to speak of the better paying jobs and what good it could bring them. Finally better equipment!

Their current armour, if you could even call it that, was falling apart at the stitching and was beyond salvage even if they were to hunt down a herd of deer and tan them all for leather for repairs, it just wasn’t worth the effort. But if they got on top of these contracts then they would be sitting pretty for a few months at best and hopefully they wouldn’t be dealing with all this Arisen/Sovran business for much longer than that.

Just talking about the things they could buy to make their lives easier, even if it was some new clothes brought a sense of carefree happiness to Wren and Asharae that they hadn’t even noticed they made their way back home when they heard a screech from Hawke, a startled shout from Nug followed by...

Crash!!

And another series of screeches.

Wren and Asharae shared a panicked look, fearing that something terrible had happened to Nug in their absence. They nearly dropped the food they were carrying as they raced towards the door of their home, there was a fumble to open the door and the siblings had to squeeze past each other to get inside.

They were expecting the worst.

They had been expecting blood on the floor, possibly an overly confident thief to be there either face first on the floor because they were stupid enough to try and pick a hand to hand fight with Nug or worse case, Nug was on the ground because she had been caught off guard.

Well, Nug was on the ground, alright.

But there was no intruder, no blood or signs of a fight. Instead the lanky pawn was lying in the centre of their tiny home, surrounded by the splintered remains of what had once been their table, a snapped broom in her clenched fist and glaring up at Hawke who was hopping merrily on the rafters. Her screeches sounded almost like laughter as she flapped her wings in a mocking way. What in the name of all the gods, current and forgotten, had happened in here?

“Wha- How did- I was only gone ten minutes!?” Asharae shouted in disbelief, waving her arms at the mess of shattered bowls and what was once a vase of noonbloom.

Ten minutes and it looked like a maelstrom tore through their home.

“Nug?” Wren began.

Hearing her master’s voice, the pawn’s spiteful glare towards the falcon instantly switched to the usual wide eyed innocence that Wren was used to seeing on the beastren’s face. “What happened?” He asked softly while Asharae had an internal breakdown as she rushed over to the satchel containing her alchemy and checked to make sure nothing there had been damaged.

Nug blinked then pointed up at Hawke.

“She stole my grapes and refused to return them when I asked politely.”

Hawke stole… Hrmmm…

Oh, Wren could already feel the headache starting to build.

Looks like that first payment was going to be used to buy a new table.

Chapter Text

Walking in the Malachite Forest was like being home again.

With trees that were so high you had to crane your head back to get a better look at the tops and canopys so thick with leaves that the sky was barely visible in certain areas. Even the remains of ruins didn’t over power the land as the roots of said trees would just as wild under foot as they were able to twist and grow over whatever they pleased. As if the lack of roads weren’t a clear enough message, this was not a place for man made cities and villages. Nature was the ruling force and neither Wren nor Asharae would change that for the world.

Even Asharae’s mood was noticeably brighter the further they got into the forest.

“Master, are we sure that we are on the correct path? This forest is so dense and near impossible to navigate.”

“Tis only ‘impossible’ to navigate if you don’t notice the natural landmarks.” Binding a bunch of golden petal with some twine, Asharae stored them in her pack then spread her arms out wide to the surrounding forest. The grin on her face, Nug had never seen the female elf look so carefree, it was like seeing an entirely new person. No, this was the real Asharae that Wren often spoke about, the one that wasn’t angry at the world and every human in it... Nug wanted to see her smile more. “Each tree has notable differences. Be it how the branches spread out, the markings on the bark or even the moss growing on it. See? Simple.”

Looking around, Nug tried to see what the dark haired woman was referring to but just wasn’t getting it. “I still don’t fully understand.”

Wren reached out and rubbed Nug’s back. “Worry not, dear Nug. We can teach you this skill.” He had to remind himself that reading the signs of the forest wasn’t a common skill, most city people didn’t know how life outside of highwalls and cobbled streets worked. Obviously, pawns were able to take on new skills far better than people so there was no worry in teaching Nug a few things that the siblings learned growing up.

“You have naught worry about when it comes to getting lost, our daring mage has assured us that she knows the way to the ruins!”

This came as a surprise to Wren.

At first it was because the mage was the first pawn that they had encountered that stepped forward and offered their opinion without being asked first. She didn’t even bring it up as a suggestion, the pawn insisted that she knew the way to the ruins that Glyndwr wanted to meet them at. Apparently, the pawn had ventured their with their own Arisen in another world which was a bit much for Wren to process.

He was very aware that there were other worlds out there but it was hard to accept their were other Arisen.

And the thought that there could be another version of him and his sister, it made his head spin. And hurt.

That was something Wren very much wanted to avoid.

He wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the curse or maybe it was all the added stress of being the Arisen but Wren’s headaches had been becoming more frequent and more painful in recent days. So much to the point he couldn’t hide them from Nug or Asharae. They both had different views on what this was happening.

Nug believed it was because of all the extra work they had taken on recently thanks to the billboard filled with contracts and that they had to slow down before one or all of them collapsed from exhaustion. There could be some truth in that, the headaches were at their worst when Wren was in a high stress situation but Wren tried to argue that with the extra gold they were getting with the contacts, it was actually taking a lot of worries off his shoulders. Nug wasn’t convinced. So Wren promised that after they helped Glyndwr with his training, they would stay in Vernworth for the next three days and he won’t even bring up contacts or any thing to do with monster culling.

Asharae, on the other hand, was firmly in the camp of ‘This has to be a side effect of the curse’.

She pointed out this level of monster hunting and living on the road was normal for them and up until he was cursed, Wren never had headaches or any illness that demanded he take time to rest. Surprisingly, she didn’t go off on a rant about how it was all the Queen Regent’s fault but Wren could see she wanted to, instead Asharae had been focusing all her pent up anger in brewing potions to help with her brother’s pain.

Regular brews helped fight the worst of the pain and the dizzy spells but the relief was only temporary, and that is why Asharae was harvesting any and all herbs she crossed paths with. Be it curse or stress, Asharae couldn’t sit by and watch her big brother suffer so this was her new project, making a potion that can cure the headaches all together.

He was getting side tracked again, he had to focus on the task at hand.

Thankfully, the mage was able to pick up on the worry in Nug’s voice. They turned to look over their shoulder. “Fear not, I have walked this path many times with my own master. I assure you that we are going in the correct direction.” They called out.

Asharae gave a firm nod and marched on ahead, keeping in time with the mage. At this rate, they would be in and out of the Malachite Forest by tomorrow morning if training with Glyndwr went smoothly.

That made Asharae a little sad, she would have liked to stay here a little longer. It helped ease her home sickness.

When they were back in Vernworth, she would take a look at the billboard herself and see if their were any contracts that would send them back into the Malachite Forest. Any excuse to come back here and forget for a little while about all the shit going on in the world, maybe being closer to more elven territories would help bring Wren’s memories back too.

“Wait.” The older elf suddenly ordered.

The pawns practically froze on the spot and turned to face their Arisen while Asharae’s hands instinctively went to the daggers on her belt.

“O’er there.” Wren pointed at a tree that had been mutilated with deep claw marks but not the claws of a wolf or even a stray clutch of saurians, these were much bigger and from the depth of the strikes, they could tear a man apart. “There is a chimera near by.” He announced, reaching out and plucking a tuft of fur that was stuck on a split of bark. Wren twisted it between his fingers and frowned, no blood, these marks were fresh, the only comfort was that the claw marks and tracks on the ground were saying that the chimera was moving away from them. So they weren’t being stalked.

For now.

“We could take it on.” Asharae suggested. Wren glanced at his sister and saw no arrogance on her face, this wasn’t her seeking a fight just so they would have bragging rights because they took down a chimera. “We are better able to take on larger threats, Nug’s skills with the greatsword has improved.” Nug stood a little taller at the praise. “We have better equipment, you have a steady supply of explosive arrows and our current pawns are more than battle ready.” The newly hired mage and fight bowed when Asharae gestured to them.

“But do you believe it would be in our best interest to track down this beast?”

Asharae hesitated.

She looked at the mangled tree then back to her brother.

“We can handle it.” She answered. “But Glyndwr may not be able to. Not alone, at least.”

Glyndwr...

The elven man was out here alone. They couldn’t just leave him to the mercy of a chimera, not when he was in the process of learning out to wield a new bow.

The choice was made. They were going to find Glyndwr before the chimera found him first.

-

The twisting roots and steep slopes made moving at a swift pace challenging.

But they couldn’t stop and smell the noonbloom. They either had to catch up with this chimera or beat it to the ruins and warn Glyndwr of its presence, there was a lot of scrambling and cutting down wolves and choppers on the way. There was even an ogre thrashing around, that was an unwelcome surprise but they were able to take them down, despite the new bruises and aches they were now sporting.

They made it though.

And what a sight they were greeted by.

The ruins that Glyndwr told the group to meet him at were beautiful.

Granted like the rest of the ruins in the forest, they had seen better days were they were still in one piece for the most part. Maybe that was because they were built into the cliff side, it was a question if the land had always been flooded of perhaps those waterfalls were the reason no one inhabited this area anymore. Wren was sure that Glyndwr would be able to answer those questions, maybe he wouldn’t know the entire history but he could add a few pieces to the puzzle.

But instead of the white haired elf, they were met with the three headed terror that was a chimera.

“Shit!” Wren swore under his breath and took cover behind a tree when the snake head turned in their direction, its tongue flickering out to taste the air for any potential prey. Asharae was behind the tree opposing her brother, his Nug looming close behind her and the greatsword in hand, just waiting for her master to give the signal to attack and the two other pawns were further back also waiting for the order. “The chimera beat us here.”

“Can you see any sign that Glyndwr was there?”

Leaning back around the tree, Wren searched the flooded area for any sign of the other elf. The water would have washed away any traces of blood but not the remains of a body and Wren could let out the breath he had been holding when he saw no traces of a body. The chimera appeared to be sniffing around for food though. “No, I see no sign of Glyndwr. Only a hungry chimera.”

Asharae bit back a groan as she slumped against the boulder. “A hungry chimera is an aggressive one.”

Indeed, it was.

A hungry chimera was more likely to lunge at you and take you in its jaws so it could crush your bones and leave you vulnerable, Wren wondered if most monster encyclopedias included that chimera preferred to cripple their prey so they could eat it while it was still alive. It probably wasn’t written down, Wren made the mistake of reading a book on monsters that he found in Vernworth and nearly threw it into the Brine because of of the amount of misinformation that he found in the first few pages.

“Even if we were to find Glyndwr and warn him, we cannot leave this chimera to inhabit this place. It is a danger to any passing traveler.”

“Indeed, these ruins lead straight to my home.”

Weapons pointed at the source of the new voice and a very startled Glyndwr jumped back, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Lower your weapons. He is a friend.” Wren ordered and the pawns obeyed with no hesitation. He holstered his bow, walked over to the white haired elf and shook his hand. Part of him wanted to pull Glyndwr into an embrace but that might have been too much. “We are relieved to see you are safe.”

“The feeling is mutual, my friend. Forgive me, I have been aware of this particular chimera for the past few days but only recently it made itself at home in these ruins.” Glyndwr grimaced, casting an irritable glance at the chimera that was currently rolling around in the shallow waters. His mouth twisted in disgust, that water was a source of sustenance for all the beasts of this forest and that chimera was defiling it by washing the dried dirt and blood off its fur. “I had hoped it would depart by the time you arrived and when it didn’t, tried to send you a letter but none of the couriers in my home were willing to travel to Vernworth so I-”

“Fret not, my friend. We can practice in another location. Surely, the forest has plenty of safe havens to offer us.”

“It does but I cannot in good conscious leave that beast to roam so close to my home. You see, that opening in the back of the ruins.” Glyndwr pointed past the chimera, its wasn’t clear or even well lit. Maybe that was to keep the opening a secret from anyone who wasn’t familiar to the Malachite Forest but it was there, Wren and Asharae had to squint slightly but there was an opening, a tall stone carved door way, in fact. “Tis a short cut to the Arborheart, many besides myself use that path to come down to the lower forest so we can avoid choppers and wolves on the longer route. You have already helped me so much, I dare not ask for more but could you-”

“Yes.” He agreed with no hesitation.

It shouldn't be a surprise.

“Bleeding heart.” Asharae muttered under her breathe with a knowing smile.

Wren kicked her in the shin.

“Oww! Fucking bas-”

His hand covered her mouth and Wren smirked down at his fuming sister. “Now, now, we must remain quiet. Stealth is the first rule when hunting a chimera, aren’t you the one who says we need to be more cautious?” He teased and Asharae smacked his hand away, still glowering up at him. “So what’s the plan, All Knowing Beast Master?” She taunted back.

She got another shoved for that remark.

“Give me a moment.” They haven’t fought a chimera since coming here.

They fought them before coming to Vermund but Wren still had all his memories then, now he was working with gapped knowledge even though the behaviour of beasts was second nature to him, who was to say that Vermund chimera had different abilities to those other lands. Such as that goat head. It could know other forms of magick. Or the snake head could host a more potent venom in its fangs.

Wren wasn’t that worried about the lion head.

All that had to offer was predictable brute force and once you figured out that pattern, avoid it was as easy as breathing.

‘A wide open area, we won’t be trapped in an enclosed space but we are limited in cover. Three heads are an issue but it still only has one body... this can be done.’ Wren mused and turned back to the group, he had been thinking about this situation like it was just him and Asharae but they weren’t alone. They had the numbers. The chimera was the one with a disadvantage. “I have a plan. I can not promise that it is a good one but it may work.” He began, then turned to Glyndwr. “My friend, I hate to single you out but perchance you can keep you distance?” That sounded so terrible but Wren really meant no harm.

He wasn’t trying to say that the other elf’s skills couldn’t contribute to the fight, far from it.

It was just that he had never witnessed Glyndwr fight and couldn’t predict if it would mesh well with their current lay out. The group went through this change regularly, any time they had change out pawns there was always a learning stage. But that was with pawns, pawns who followed orders with no question, battling along side people was much more unpredictable and that made Wren unease. He wouldn’t want to risk Glyndwr’s life with his own uncertainty.

A sharp pain of guilt hit Wren’s chest when he saw the look of disappointment on Gylndwr’s face. “I... Yes, you maybe be right.” He agreed but his tone couldn’t hide his hurt. “T’would be foolish for me to involve myself in this fight when my archery skills are not the best. I shall remain hidden but I must urge you, should the chimera prove to be too much, you will flee this battle? The archers of my home will be able to handle the beast.”

“Should it come to that... We will not hesitate to retreat.”

It shouldn’t come to that, hopefully.

Wren directed Asharae and the fighter pawn to the left side of the clearing while he and Nug went to the right, after Nug referred to leave his side, the mage was told to hold back and stay out of sight. They were depending on that pawn to stop the chimera from lashing out in an aggressive frenzy. It didn’t take long for the chimera to notice them, the snake head raised in a threatening way and let of a vicious hiss, alerting the other two heads to the ‘invaders’. And just as Wren had hoped, the two main heads were torn between which side they wanted to attack, there was a brief moment of debate between the heads before the goat let out a bleat, blue magick flowing out of its mouth as it prepared to cast a spell.

And to counter it, the mage pawn struck it with lightning.

The chimera’s soaked fur acted as the perfect conductor, stunning the beast but not before the snake could spew out a cloud of poison see even while they were vulnerable, the group could get near it without inhaling the poison. Wren ordered the pawns to not approach, Asharae had other plans. She pulled the neckerchief she was wearing over her mouth and nose and charged the chimera, jumping on its back and stabbing her daggers into its thick hide to anchor herself. ‘Gods damn it, Asharae!’ Wren swore, this is exactly why he didn’t want Glyndwr involved! Now the chimera was trying to shake Asharae off it’s back but she was clinging on harder than a tic, that’s when the snake head started to try and strike at her.

He had to give Asharae credit, she was durable.

Going as far as to kick the snake in the face to repel it while the fighter pawn acted as a second distraction, hacking and slashing at the chimera’s legs to make it unsteady. Wren fired an explosive at the lion head, staggering it and Nug took her chance to strike.

Bringing the great sword above her head, Nug brought it crashing down and severed the snake head. The act being so sudden that it was still thrashing around and hissing, not realising it had been separated from the main body.

With the snake gone, the chimera lurched forward, stumbling over its paws and hooves making it crash down onto its side while letting out a roar and bleat of agony. “Asharae! Now!” Wren ordered and Asharae leapt, landing on the neck of the goat that was too distracted with the loss of its tail to even process that there was a threat pressing down on its neck until it was too late. And Asharae began repeatedly stabbing it in the neck, shredding its vocal cords preventing it from casting more spells and destroying it’s wind pipe, letting the goat drown in it’s own blood.

All that was left was the lion.

The must had picked up on what a dire situation it was in, its snake head was gone, the goat had its neck carved open and was hanging limp over its back. Blood pouring from the gaping neck, staining the chimera’s fur and tainting the once clear water. The lion thrashed and scrambled to its feet and bounded out of the reach of the group.

“Tis exhausted! Now is our chance!” The mage pawn shouted, raising their staff which was crackling with purple tinged magick and struck the lion head with a bolt of lightning, stunning it again.

Nug charged the chimera, driving her sword between its ribs and piecing a lung. The lion head stared panting and gasping for air, this was Wren opportunity. Grabbing an explosive arrow, he ran forward and drove it into the lion’s open mouth, it tried to fight against him. Shaking it’s head violently from side to side as the flying sparks burned its sensitive gums and making Wren jump back before could try and bite down on his arm, the fight dashed past him and struck the arrow with their sword and was instantly knocked back by the following blast. The sight would have been impressive if it wasn’t so grotesque at the same time, the fresh erupted along with the arrow, splattering everywhere and incinerating what wasn’t blown off the lion’s skull. With a choke roar, the chimera felt back into the shallow water, its body went still.

“That was...” Wren began, his chest heaving with each breath he took. He walked over and helped the fight back to their feet, checking to make sure they weren’t burned by the flames.

“An experience?” Asharae suggested, sheaving her daggers and taking an antidote from her pack.

“Gruesome.”

Maybe one day they will have an encounter with a monster that doesn’t involve fire and the smell of burnt flesh. Wren had enough of that smell for a life time.

-

“Right!” Wren began with a clap his hands and a smile on his face. “Shall we begin?”

With a quick check of Asharae and the pawns, how were busying themselves skinning the mane of the chimera, harvesting poison from the snake head’s fangs and cutting off the claws. Nug was paying a lot of attention to the goat horns, Wren wouldn’t be surprised if he heard a snap soon and Nug had a new trophy to bring home. He then turned back to Glyndwr, who was holding his bow out to the dark haired elf.

Ah, yes, he wanted a demonstration of how human bows worked. Not just how an elf not native to Vermund used it.

“It seems odd to ask you for this demonstration after our battle but I would find it easier to study your stance when our lives aren’t on the line.” Glyndwr explained. Even looking a little embarrassed but there was no reason to feel that way, they were alive and not in the jaws of a chimera. And how could anyone learn anything when death was looming over them?

“Let us begin at once. I should like to observe your form, first and foremost, so stand here.” Glyndwr handed over his bow and guided the taller elf over the a fallen piece of wall and had him stand on it then pointed towards a small number wooden targets hanging from the arch ways with white X’s painted on them. They looked very weather worn but the arrow marks were clear. “Take your aim at yon targets.”

Sounds easy enough.

They demonstration went well. Wren had no issue using a human crafted bow and even noticed a couple of differences himself, Asharae threw out a couple of playful barbs trying to throw off her brother’s aim but Wren wasn’t phased; though he was tempted to turn around and fire an arrow at her. It wouldn’t be smart to do that in front of other people. But when Glyndwr felt he had seen enough, he signaled for Wren to stop and happily took his bow back; going by the small smile on his face, he must have been pleased with what he saw. “You have my gratitude! I learned much from you just now.” He praised while mirroring the stance that Wren had. “In fact, I have made a discovery. Unlike those of elven make, bows crafted by other races are designed for keen aim! Is that not so?”

“Humans have terrible aim!” Asharae shouted while rolling up the chimera mane.

Wren rolled his eyes at her. “Ignore her. She has… issues.” That was putting it lightly.

Glyndwr wasn’t bothered about it though, if anything he was entertained by her outburst. “Tis fine but I can see this no revelation for either of you. Most believe this design to be common to all bows, after all. Not so for those of elven make, howe’er. Our bows are crafted to guide not the hand, but the heart.” That was true. While he would never replace him own bow, that didn’t stop Wren from browsing the bows on sale at the blacksmith just to scratch the curious itch and make comparisons. Human bows were more flashy while having to aid the archer and while Wren couldn’t speak for other elven villages, the ones from his village were personal to each person.

“This is the same for where you and your sister hail?” Glyndwr asked, suddenly fearing that he may have offended his friend by making assumptions that his people were the same as Wren’s just because they were both elves.

Wren had to take a moment to think about his own people, his hand reaching back to touch his bow in search of some comfort, something to anchor him to reality in case another headache suddenly came on. If he were to close his eyes then he could see it clearly, he was a pre-teenager and he was carving out the very bow he would use to this day. Taking all the time in the world to sand down the rough parts, tan and cut the leather that would be used on the grip, crafting the draw string and carve the symbols of their people into the wood. He could still smell the burning wood of the hearth in his childhood home and…

“Patience, my little bird, you must take your time when crafting this bow. If made well then it shall serve you a life time and protect you and the ones you love.”

‘Mother!’

He must have looked out of sorts because at some point Glyndwr had taken a step closer and placed his hand on Wren’s shoulder, concern clear on his face. Wren blinked multiple times, looking around him to see that Asharae and the pawns had stopped what they were doing to make sure that he was okay. “Are you well, my friend?” Glyndwr asked, his voice gentle and patient.

The taller elf shook his head to clear the fog and gave his friend a grateful smile. “I am perfectly fine. T’was a dizzy spell, those tend to happen since I was cursed.”

“Cursed?!” Glyndwr gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. “You do lead an eventful life as the Arisen, don’t you?”

Wren wished he could say ‘no’ to that but it was true. None of them had none peace for months now.

He could tell that the white haired man had more that he wanted to ask about Wren’s role as the Arisen and how it has effected his life but that was the last thing that Wren wanted to talk about right now. Being in the Malachite Forest and spending time hadn’t just improved Asharae’s overall mood but it lifted Wren’s spirits too, and spending time with Glyndwr has been a much needed break from having the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. “Enough about me. You are the primary focus right now.” He said, taking the other’s hand off his shoulder and switching places so Glyndwr could test his new found knowledge himself.

“Right, yes...” Glyndwr cleared his throat and readied an arrow. But his nerves were starting to show. “We are taught arrows loosed with proper form will strike true, as if ‘tis all a matter of poise. I admit, I find it rather baffling myself. Perhaps that is why my bowmanship has failed to improve?”

That was understandable.

To grow up being told that you should have a natural talent in archery then see that your skills don’t meet the generations long high standards, it had to knock down your self esteem. It was no wonder that Glyndwr was so secretive about going to Vernworth in his quest to study human crafted bows, he must have felt like he was betraying the legacy of his people.

“Yet...” There was something new in Glyndwr’s voice now, was it… hope? “With this bow, I begin to understand. Let us see if I fare any better now.”

He stood tall, took a deep breath and loosed his arrow.

It whistled threw the air.

Thunk!

It landed center point on the target.

Glyndwr couldn’t believe his eyes but the disbelief was short lived and just as quickly replaced with over flowing joy. “Huzzah!” He cheered out.

Wren clapped, the grin on his face was practically glowing with pride. “What a sight!” That was an understatement, the shot was impressive but what Wren was really taken with was the happiness on Glyndwr’s. When he smiled the white haired elf was breath takingly beautiful, Wren could swoon at the sight.

From behind them, Nug let out a series of cheers and claps. Even Asharae looked proud but wasn’t as vocal, displays of positive emotion we a bit harder for her to do. They went back to target practice and with each arrow that landed, they were followed with shouts of celebration. “I can hardly believe it. Every last arrow found its mark, dead center!” Despite seeing it with his own eyes, Glyndwr was clearly struggling to process what he achieved. He looked ready to cry if the glassy sheen in his eyes were anything to go by. “This marvel is nothing at all like an elven bow! The design allows for ease of aim and steadfast flight of each arrow. To think… that I should feel such a difference!”

Then a shadow of guilt fell over him.

“Mayhap I am more suited to a bow of foreign make than one of my own people’s.”

“Would that really be so bad?” Asharae cut in.

Both male elves turned to her, she was now lounging back on a collapsed piece of wall while twisting a dagger in her hands seeing as skinning the chimera was finished. She should wash the blood off that dagger before it dries. “A weapon is a tool at the end of the day, what does it matter who crafted it as long it keeps you alive?” She argued and cast a fleeting glance to Wren’s bow. “If human crafted is what works for you, then use it your advantage.”

Was… was she really saying this? The one person who was so openly hostile to humans was now telling Glyndwr to embrace using a human made bow, would she be as supportive if Wren said he wanted to stop using his bow that was made in their home and decided that human-made was the way to go? Not that Wren would ever replace his bow, it would take it being broken beyond repair for him to replace it but he had a feeling that Asharae wouldn’t be this supportive of him if he were in their new friend’s position.

And Glyndwr was seriously thinking over her words. “Would it be so bad?” He mused then turned to Wren, looking of the other elf’s opinion.

“You should do what works for you.”

“Then I am decided. I shall take this bow back to the arbor.” Glyndwr announced proudly and returned it to the holster on his back. Any doubt he once had was gone and he wore a confident grin, Wren had to take a deep breath and remind himself not swoon again. “With this as my weapon, I have no doubt I shall pass my Trial of Archery! Thank you! Both of you for your aid and support.”

Asharae made a noise of approval and waved her dagger free hand at him. “My foolish brother deserves all the credit, were the choice entirely down to me… I can not say that I would have been nearly as generous as to buy you that bow.” Was she forgetting that she was there when Wren gifted that bow to Glyndwr? He even looked to her for approval because he didn’t want to make high priced purchases without talking to her about it first and she agreed to this, she helped just as much as her brother. She deserved credit too.

Thankfully, Glyndwr was an observant man.

He could see that the female elf was just being aloof but he didn’t push the matter further, instead he gave Wren a knowing nod. Asharae had his gratitude, whether she wanted it or not.

-

Wren and Glyndwr spent a couple more hours with target practice, just to make sure that the white haired elf felt more confident in his new bow and seeing that he wasn’t as talentless as he once believed.

And they had fun.

When shooting at the hanging targets became boring, they started hunting birds and rabbits. They even made a friendly bet which Glyndwr won, they invited Asharae and the pawns to join them but Asharae declined the offer. She was enjoying the peace of the forest and wanted to bask in the sun during this quiet moment, Nug considered it but wanted to fish in the flooded ruins, the other pawns said they would prefer to keep watch for any potential dangers so that just left Wren and Glyndwr. They spent so much time on their bet and target practice that they failed to notice that that sun was beginning to set. It was too late to make the trek back to Vernworth so the group decided make camp in a small, near by clearing.

Asharae suggested that Gylndwr should stay with them, that even an elven forest was a hazard to navigate at night.

Glyndwr politely declined this offer. He was touched by her concern but promised that returning home would be a swift journey for him, he said he would have invited them to his home but he was not in a position to allow outsiders into the arbor, even if they were fellow elves.

He needed time to convince his father that Wren and Asharae could be trusted because Glyndwr wanted them both to witness his Trial of Archery, he also wanted them to meet his own family. Wren was more than happy to accept but only if the same curtesy was extended to Nug and any other pawns he may hire, Glyndwr said that would be a little harder to convince his father of but he with Wren’s permission he wanted to tell his father of the role of the Arisen and how pawns were a package deal.

They said their goodbyes and Glyndwr swore that he would return to Vernworth personally when his trial was close so he could escort them to the arbor personally then headed on his way, Wren made a mental note to bring Hawke on that meeting so she could learn where to fly in the future so he could continue communicating with Glyndwr through letters.

Besides, Hawke had been getting a little too comfortable in their Vernworth home. She hadn’t been stretching her wings nearly as much and anytime she was, it was to contact captain Brant which wasn’t often given that they could talk to him any night at the tavern.

It would make things easier.

‘I should bring Hawke on our next meeting with Beren.’ He thought while serving up a bowl of stew to Nug. Those rabbits were really serving their purpose now, no vegetables though.

Now that everyone was eating, Wren could return to his spot in front of his tent and go back to reading through his journal, as well as adding what he had learned about Glyndwr’s people. It was looking to be a peaceful evening, as Nug switched between eating her meal and tying the fish to a make shift rack she had built she caught so she could dry them out during the night. It looked especially rickety but as long as no one bumped into it, or breathed on it, it should stay standing through the night.

The other two pawns were ready to settle for the night while Asharae was cutting off the useless leaves from the herbs she collected. If they ignored the buzzing of the flies that were hanging around the corpse of the chimera, as well as the smell, then it was setting up to be a quiet, peaceful night.

Wren let out a content sigh and finally let himself relax, what more could he ask for.

“It makes me wonder though...”

Well, that was short lived.

Closing his journal, Wren raised an eyebrow at Asharae, silently encouraging her to continue.

“Is the trail of archery just that? Hit the target and ‘tis enough? Seems rather anti-climactic, especially compared to what we have to do.”

“What do your people do?” Nug asked, sparing Wren any of the embarrassment of having to ask the same question and admit he didn’t remember his own trial or the specifics of the tradition. It was important, of course, but knowing exactly what he did would be nice too and there was no record of it in his journal.

Asharae took a big bite of the meal and stared into the campfire, her brow furrowed in thought. “We hunt.” She answered, after swallowing. “We are taken into the wilds on our fifteenth name day and told to take down a pre-selected beast, usually a saurian variant, a harpy or even an over sized hobgoblin in some cases. Mine was a snow harpy that had no right being in the forest.” An amused smile tugged at her lips at the memory and pride burned in her eyes, it was a good hunt, then her eyes lifted to Wren.

“Yours was a sulfur saurian.”

A gurgled roar and a flash of yellow and black appeared in Wren’s mind, as well as the smell of salt water and fish. And it wasn’t from the ones that Nug caught.

Oh, he didn’t have to look in his journal to remind himself of those creatures, Wren remembered them well. He always held a soft spot for saurians of any variety but sulfur saurian’s had a special kind of beauty to them. Maybe it was their striped hide or how they were more reclusive that their green scaled cousins, but Wren was fascinated by them.

“How does a sulfur saurian differ from a regular saurian?” Nug asked. “Are they poisonous like asp?”

“No. Naught like that, but they-”

“Turn invisible.” Wren interrupted as he picked up his bowl of cool stew and started to eat before it got too cold.

Nug looked shaken at this information, she already didn’t like fighting ghosts because they could disappear so the idea of fighting a saurian that could vanish in the blink of an eye, a beast that was bigger enough to send even the largest warrior through the air and break a bone or two. And that’s if you were guarding against them charging you.

While Nug was having an internal panic attack at the thought of giant invisible lizards, Asharae looked proud when her brother mentioned their unique talent.

A small but pleased smile appeared on her face. “Yes.” She breathed. “They have the ability to disappear. No one has been able to deduce how they are able to do this feat, be it magick or aught unique to them, but they are a danger when in a group.”

“And the Arisen was to kill one of these of creatures on his own in his youth?” The pawn asked. Sounding very appalled at the idea of sending a boy to fight such a threatening monster. And alone?! “Forgive my ignorance, Ser Asharae, but that sounds incredibly reckless.”

“He had to kill one on his own, Nug. But he was not alone, more seasoned hunters accompany the fledgling to prevent them from being overrun or should a more threating beast make itself known. To send an inexperienced hunters into the wilds on their own, t’would be more than reckless. Tis cruel.”

It was good to hear that the people of their home had some sense.

And that they weren’t alone in having strange traditions, at least Glyndwr didn’t have to worry about being killed during his trial. Small mercies.

“It got you good that day.” Asharae continued, scraping the last of her stew into her spoon and finishing it. With the bowl empty, she put it to the side and laid down on her bedroll, getting settled for the evening. “I still remember the real fear that you may loose your eye.”

So that’s how he got his scar.

Wren had always suspected that he got it in a fight but he couldn’t figure out how that was possible, he was an archer. And an archer was at their best when distanced from the battle, so how could a man or beast have gotten close enough to almost take his eye. Talking about it now, Wren was getting flashes of the moment. More blurs of yellow and black, shouts from the hunters that there were to protect him and then a searing pain on his face.

It was quickly followed by the heavy scent of copper as red tainted his vision. He could barely see but he could hear, he could hear the hunters’ orders shift into ones of panic and concern.

Wren didn’t remember how he took down the saurian, maybe he would find how it ended in his journal but right now all he could think about was the phantom pain in his eye. He reach up and gently rubbed the raised skin of his scar to try and ease a pain that wasn’t really there, it was strange how his memories were effecting him. And Asharae said everyone was concerned that he was going to lose the eye, what did they say exactly? What did his mother say when he came home bloodied and partly blind? Was Asharae angry at the saurian that day? And what of his friends, friends he couldn’t even recall the names and faces of, were they concerned? Did they visit him to see if he was alright? “I wish I could remember...” He murmured sadly. Asharae lifted her head to him. “You will.” She replied, her voice was strangely soothing. “We just need to give it time for them to come back.”

Right.

He had to be patient.

Chapter Text

They lost a pawn for the first time today.

Wren knew that it was foolish to get upset, pawns didn’t die.

They just returned to the rift and waited to be summoned again.

But that didn’t change how human they looked when they fell in battle.

They were surrounded on each side in an ocean side cave, their focus on a hostile clutch of saurians so they didn’t hear the blob of ooze crawl up behind them. It was only when their mage didn’t renew the ice enchantment that Wren turned around and saw their mage being smothered in the green mass. But they couldn’t save the mage until the saurians were taken care of.

Wren tried, he really tried. He used what little explosive arrows he had left to either blow chucks off the saurians or just blast them into the near by river. Even going as far as to heave a staggered saurian and throw it in the river

When the saurians were no more, he dashed over to the eerily still pawn that was still consumed in the ooze and tried to reach through the sentient mass to grab the pawn and pull them free. But the ooze had other plans as it crawled up Wren’s arms in an effort to consume him too. Before he could be smothered entirely, Nug wrapped her arms around the Arisen’s waist and wrenched him from the ooze as Asharae used an ignis spell to fizzle away the silent killer.

The still pawn quickly followed, vanishing away in a grey-ish blue cloud of smoke that could only be identified as magick from the rift.

Wren wasn’t the only one to mourn the loss of their mage, Nug’s naive happiness had taken a solemn turn downward. Asharae was left to harvest any of the slime from the remains of the green puddle and urge them to start moving, they had other places to be.

Such as delivering the lump of gold ore to young Daphne.

While aiding the nuns at the Gracious Hand, the only source of food and comfort for the residents of the slums, a small blonde child by the name of Daphne had approached them and pleaded for their help in gathering specific items. Neither Wren or Asharae questioned the request much. If anything, collecting a few loose items for a child was a welcome break from killing monsters and sneaking around to find evidence. Daphne had been so grateful for their efforts, going as far as to hug the three, Asharae went stock still at the embrace like she had been breathed on by a snow harpy while Nug was far more welcoming, going as far as to crouch down and carefully hug the girl.

“Now all I need is a cure for treating blight! I would ask the sisters but time are hard and medicine is fleeting. Mayhaps I can ask the sisters to spare just a little should it not cause too much trouble...” Daphne mumbled to herself, stepping away from the group and staring hopefully down at the items she was given.

All while Wren was wondering exactly why the child would want these items. A lump of silver and gold, those were treasures, for sure. And flowers, well, everyone liked getting flowers. But a bottle of antidote, that was a much stranger request unless the person she needed it for was suffering from poisoning or blight, that couldn’t be it. If it were then it would have reached Wren’s ears by now, that being said there was a troubling number of sick people in the slums, he would have to bring this up to Brant because of all the things that they were dealing with, shouldn’t making sure the people of Vernworth weren’t suffering from ailments be apart of that duty too?

Thinking back on it, they had more than enough coin to spare, Wren was ready to tell Daphne to stay were she was and he would go and buy her the curative when he heard a rustle of fabric and click of glass bottles bumping against each other. Then Asharae appeared from the corner of his eye, holding out the antidote to Daphne. “Here.” Asharae spoke while looking away. “Not the most complex brew you can find but it does cure blight, just don’t drink it if you aren’t suffering from blight or poisoning.”

Daphne was stunned at the gift.

Her eyes wide as she slowly held her hands out and took the curative. When she stopped looking between the bottle and elves, a grin so bright that it could rival the sun spread across her face. The way she shuffled on the spot gave away that she wanted to hug them again but couldn’t out of fear that she might drop and break the bottle in her excite but she was able vocalize her gratitude well enough. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I will ne’er forget this gift!”

Daphne was ready to say her goodbyes and return to the Gracious Hand but stopped.

“Say, aren’t you curious who I want to meet?” She asked in a hushed voice, like whispering a secret. “Well, I’ll tell you: my mother and father! I don’t know what they look like, you know.”

Right, Daphne was an orphan. A resident of the slums with added sorrow.

“Not to say I’m unhappy at the Gracious Hand, of course.” She sent a fleeting, guilty glance at the small abbey then returned her gaze back to the elves. “But I’d really like to meet them, even just once. I want to to tell them how grateful I am that they gave me life!”

That lightened Wren’s sad mood just a little bit.

That someone who was born into nothing, who was too young to even remember her parents when they passed still appreciating them when others might be bitter, or even angry, at life for dealing them such an unfavourable hand. It was refreshing.

“Ooh, it’s so shiny...” Daphne cooed at the lump of gold, temporarily mesmerized by the valuable metal. “Oh! Hoy, Arisen. You’ll help me again if I need it, won’t you? Please say yes!”

Wren closed his eyes and nodded. “All you need to do is ask.” He said softly. Had he been paying attention like he usually did, he would have noticed how Asharae was giving him a funny look. They finally said their goodbyes to Daphne, promising to visit her again when they were able and wished her luck in her little spell then slowly trailed up the dirt path back into the city, Wren no long wore that hollow smile. Instead he just looked drained.

Asharae didn’t like it.

“You did a good thing.” She supplied, walking in step with the older elf and sweeping her hair back over her shoulder. A bath would be nice after dealing with those saurians and that resilient blob of goo. “I may not be versed in necromancy but we are not naive to the subject, we know that ‘spell’ is fake. You knew it. And you still agreed to get the gold because it would make that girl happy, you shouldn’t be upset about that.” That was true. His journal had mentioned a number of encounters with nercomancers that specialized in both skeletons and the undead, that wasn’t even counting the battles they had with a number of lich. Those were another kind of bone chilling.

And Asharae made a good point, this so called spell that young Daphne had was not a real spell.

It probably came from a crook selling forged spell books or maybe a passing merchant or bard just felt sorry for Daphne and told her something that would bring the poor girl comfort. That was the story that Wren decided was real. He didn’t want to believe for a moment that there were people in the world who would scam an orphan who had nothing, but deep down he knew that was a lie. Those people existed, they preyed on the vulnerable and the naive and they made Wren’s blood boil.

He despised them with a passion.

Nug jogged up to his other side and playfully bumped her arm against Wren’s in an attempt to cheer him up. He gave her a fleeting smile that didn’t reach his eyes and Nug frowned, she needed another approach. “Ser Asharae is correct, Master. While falling in battle is the greatest shame for pawns such as myself, we knew tis part of our role. Tis how we learn and that mage shall return to their Arisen with the knowledge of how to avoid similar situations in the future.”

That was true.

Trial and error was an important part of learning but when the error resulted in death, even the pseudo-death of a pawn, it didn’t make Wren feel any better.

-

“Is it strange that of all the places in the city, the Pawn Guild is the least frequented?” Wren wondered as they headed towards said building. It caught Asharae off guard seeing as he hadn’t spoken a word since the slums but she was happy that he was talking again, even if it was a weird question.

“N-”

“Yes.” Nug cut in, earning a bewildered look from the brother and sister. This wasn’t like Nug, she didn’t usually interrupt to speak her own opinion. Not without asking if she could speak, that is.

She must have noticed that she did something unexpected because her stride faltered and she started fiddling with the straps of her gauntlets. “What I mean to say it, umm… My ilk, pawns, when we are not in service of an Arisen, we will usually gather around a rift stone and wait to be summoned. We may not engage in conversation as humans do but being close to each other and to the rift stone is a comfort so to see not only the grand rift stone of the Pawn Guild to be practically abandoned… Tis very strange, unsettling almost.”

“Unsettling?” Asharae parroted, raising a brow.

Nug nodded. “There must be a reason why my fellow pawns are avoiding not only Vernworth’s rift stone but the many others we have encountered in our travels.”

If this was something that Nug was worried about, Nug, who didn’t have a single worry in the world besides watching out from the well being of her master and his sister, then this was worth looking further into. Wren made a mental note to talk to Brant about it, it wasn’t clear how much he knew about the finer details of the Arisen and the pawns but hopefully this lack of pawns was a common thing in Vermund. That is the answer that he was hoping for but given everything else that was happening behind the scenes, there was most likely a sinister explanation and Wren’s mind drifted to that excavation site.

More so on the number of pawns that were stuffed in the gaol cells with him.

Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he could still smell the stale, dust filled air and the foul scent of the various bodies. The sweat, the dirt and… other things. The memory alone almost made him sick.

“Oh, Arisen! Look o’er there!” Nug announced happily, pointing inside the Pawn Guild. “Tis young Sven. Should we greet him?”

Wren’s head perked up at the mention of the young man, he couldn’t be here, could he?

Pushing past Nug and Asharae, he got a better look into the dull hall that was the Pawn Guild and there he was, Sven standing with his back to the main entrance and his entire focus directed at the grand rift stone. He must have not heard Nug’s loud voice seeing as he didn’t turn around. And just as Wren opened his mouth to greet him, he felt a hand grab the collar of his cloak and yank him and Nug back down the steps away from the Pawn Guild, away from Sven.

He was able to wriggle out of her grasp “Sister, what-”

“Not him.” She insisted.

Wren wanted to brush off her concerns, tell his sister that she was being paranoid. Countless people have witnessed Wren interact with the riftstone at the point and none of them had reported it to the Queen Regent’s loyal sentinels, so it should not be an issue to hire a new mage in front of Sven.

But the look in Asharae’s eyes, eyes that were usually guarded but held so much love for her brother and were gradually warming to Nug, where now showing fear. And now that Wren noticed it, he also noticed how the hand that was clutching his wrist was trembling. “Why does he scare you? He is just a boy.”

“I am not scared of that boy! I just... Mmph...” She turned away with a look of distrust on her face. Fists clenched at her side while grinding her teeth, they couldn’t see Sven from where they were standing but Asharae was glaring in his general direction. There was so much anger in her eyes but also a hint of doubt, what was she doubting? “I know I have seen his face before, I swear it, and perchance... Anyone who hides their identity can not be trusted.”

Oh.

Wren wanted to remind her that they were hiding his identity as the Arisen and, by Asharae’s way of thinking, no one should trust him.

“Breathe, dear sister. I give you my word that I shall not use the riftstone in the lad’s presence.”

The younger elf glared up at him. “That is not the same and you know it.”

He did.

But they needed a new mage, they had a contract for tonight where they had to take our a group of undead that kept rising in the same spot each night and attacking any late night travelers. They were going to need at extra aid and magicka because there would be ghosts and skeletons too, when you encountered any of those three monsters, it could be guaranteed that the other two were close by and waiting to strike at the first moment of weakness. And it wasn’t like they had all the time in the day to wait for him to leave. They had packs filled with monster parts, a bounty to hand in and then making a quick meal and an even quicker nap before heading out again.

Maybe Wren could convince Asharae that grabbing a meal at the tavern would be the smarter choice.

Standing around waiting for Sven to leave was not going to help so Wren only had one option on hand.

“Nug, will you go with Asharae to sell our spoils?”

Nug blinked. “Won’t you accompany us, Master?”

“I’m afraid not. T’would be wise for me to remain here and wait for young Sven to leave, then I shall hire us a new mage.” Also make sure that no one passed by and let it slip that he was the Arisen to Sven, he wasn’t ready to have that conversation with his short friend.

Asharae wasn’t entirely happy with them splitting up but if was better than just standing around and waiting for Sven to leave of his own accord, them loitering would attract more unwanted attention from the sentinels. “Watch what you say.” She warned the older elf. Wren wanted to roll his eyes at her words but decided against it, he knew the worry came from a place of love and he didn’t want to make her think that he wasn’t taking her seriously.

“If you finish our sales before I am able to hire a mage, go home without me. I have most likely-”

“Forgot the task at hand and wanted to keep talking with the little pest. I know.”

Wren frowned.

There was no need to call Sven a ‘pest’.

Asharae placed her hands on her hips and met her brother’s disapproving gaze. “Each time you cross paths with him, you forget that myself and Nug exist.”

“That isn’t true.”

He might get caught up in spending time with Sven but to say he ignored his other duties, that was stretching the truth a bit.

-

He was nervous.

Wren took off his gloves and rubbed his sweaty palms against the material of his breeches to dry them, this interaction wasn’t going to be like their previous ones, he would have to carefully think about each word that fell from his mouth. No mentions of the Arisen and keep any information about pawns to what the general public would know, he could do that. He would ask Sven what he was doing in the guild but nothing further and if the lad asked him pawn or Arisen related questions in return, he would keep the answers short and sweet.

‘A bit like Sven himself.’ He smiled and shook his head at the thought.

Short and sweet was an improvement from his first impression, though Sven was still strange to Asharae.

Deep breath to calm his nerves and taking a moment to fix his hair, Wren headed into the guild and still Sven had barely moved from his previous spot. What was he so focused on about the riftstone?

“If you are curious about why it is so big, I have oft wondered that query myself.” Wren voiced, sparing a glance at the towering stone then mentally kicked himself when Sven let out a small, shocked gasp. One of these days they would greet each other without startling the other. One thing that Wren couldn’t shrug off as social awkwardness was the expression the lad wore when he turned to meet his gaze, it wasn’t surprise or even embarrassment at being caught off guard. His eyes wide with panic, one hand clutching at chest of his shirt and there was an air of fear around him. Why fear? Was he truly that scared of the sentinels catching him on these sneaky jaunts and dragging him home?

It made Wren worry and momentarily give credit to Asharae’s theory that Sven was hiding more than he let on. He should try and change the atmosphere, let Sven know that no matter what secrets he was carrying, Wren didn’t care.

He just enjoyed the time they spent together.

“Tis strange to see you somewhere that is not the market square.”

At the sight of the elf, Sven’s surprise shifting into beaming joy. “Ser Wren! I was not expecting to see you!”

“I could say the same of you, my dear.” That didn’t just apply to Sven, no one really came to the Pawn Guild. Except maybe the sentinels but the way they loitered around was strange too. “The Pawn Guild offers little in the way of socializing. Unless you wish to make conversation with the pawns.” Not that there was anything wrong with that, Wren had discovered that the pawns were more than willing to engage in conversation if people took the time to actually stop and talk with them. Even Nug was getting better at banter, it made traveling the road more entertaining, especially when she shared gossip of other Arisen from across the Rift.

Although that made Wren worry about what she might be saying about him and Asharae when she was in the service of other Arisen. Nothing too bad or embarrassing, he hoped.

Taking a few steps forward, Wren stood in line with Sven and leaned a little closer to the riftstone. Pretending to inspect it, he then cocked his head and grinned. “Here for a friendly chat with the pawns?” He teased.

“Chat with the pawns? Oh heavens, no.” Sven retorted with a shake of his head. His quick dismissal at the light hearted suggestion of talking to pawns left a bitter taste in Wren’s mouth, did Sven not like pawns? For a kingdom that made the Arisen their ruler and glorified the pawns because of their servive to the Arisen, there was a surprising amount of pawn racism.

Nothing too aggressive like people openly voicing their dislike of Nug or any other pawn but Wren wasn’t blind and neither was Asharae, they both saw how some people’s faces would pinch with disdain when they caught sight of Nug’s looming frame. Her being a beastren only added further to the dirty looks. She tried to put on a brave face but the siblings knew from experience that she was hiding the pain, they told her that it was okay to feel sad or even angry and reminded her that even if all of Vermund hated Nug; Wren and Asharae cared for her.

And if Sven held some bigotry against pawns, then...

Wren wasn’t sure what he would do.

He didn’t want to lose his friend but he didn’t want to subject Nug to more unnecessary hatred. Maybe he was putting the cart in front of the oxen, the boy had should nothing but kindness and curiousity since they met so even if he did hold any misguided beliefs on pawn, Wren was sure that he could be convinced that pawns were inherently good... if a little sarcastic at time.

After all, he did come to the Pawn Guild of his own free will, why come to place that was hub to a race of people you supposedly disliked if you weren’t willing to learn something new?

Wren must have looked conflicted because he heard a fumbling of words to his side and turned to see Sven looking rather guilty, he couldn’t even make eye contact with the older man. “Forgive me, t’was very rude of me to brush off your inquiry. Your question was perfectly innocent and I treated it like an insult.” What was it about this boy that made Wren think of a baby deer? Between the soft looking curls that were partly hidden under his hat, the freckles that dusted his cheeks and those big, blue eyes; all that was missing was the fuzzy ears that would be hanging down in shame at his words. And still, he continued talking. “You see, I have ne’er had the opportunity to speak with a pawn...”

“I recommend it. If you have the time, they have plenty of tales to share.” Plenty of gossip about other Arisen.

Sure, Wren didn’t want Nug spilling all his dirty secrets and embarrassing habits to other Arisen but if he happened to over hear Asharae coaxing tales from her over the campfire then it would be rude to tell them to be quiet if they were having a pleasant conversation. According to Nug, a fair number of Arisen liked to hire pawns that were female and beastren... Wren was going to pretend he didn’t know the reason for that.

He had to stomp on Asharae’s foot to shut her up when Nug asked why that would be.

But back to Sven.

He didn’t look guilty now, more entertained at the idea of talking to a pawn. With a small, undignified snort and a roll of his eyes, Sven couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. “Mother would not approve.”

“Does your mother approve of anything?” The words came out so quickly that Wren didn’t even realize he said them out loud until they slight echo of the guild hit his ears, he was mortified. It took all his courage to look at Sven, he wanted that ooze from earlier to make a return and swallow him whole. Sven stared up at him, mouth agape and completely scandalized. Like the elf had just broken ten different laws and committed treason with just that one sentence, even Wren couldn’t believe what he just said. He might not agree with a number of things the boy’s mother did or said, he certainly didn’t approve of how Sven had to sneak around just to get some fresh air and interact with another person, but that didn’t mean he was intentionally trying to insult a woman he didn’t know.

He looked away again, keeping his head bowed in shame and fitting the urge to pull the hood of his cloak over his head to hide his mortification.

“A-Apologizes. T’was a slip of the tongue, I meant no ill will.”

Wren wouldn’t blame Sven if he wanted to leave and maybe not talk to him for sometime, if the roles were reversed then Wren would probably want some space too.

Instead of departing footsteps, he heard the lad clear his throat. “I’m sure it was a mistake. You are possibly the kindest person I have e’er encountered.”

Why was he so forgiving?

Wren couldn’t help but laugh at the situation as he wondered what he did in life to have someone as compassionate as Sven to walk in and be so patient and forgiving towards him, whatever it was, he wasn’t going to squander this friendship. He would treasure it forever. And he was the Arisen, if he didn’t find the dragon and win his heart back then he just might live forever to keep that promise.

Eugh... that was a depressing thought. Wren didn’t want to linger on that.

He shook his head and pushed it deep down into the depths of his mind. He finally had the courage to look back at Sven, who was tilting his head at the elf’s sudden laughter. ‘ He would make an adorable deer. ’

“How many people have you encountered?” Wren asked, but he already knew the answer.

“...Not many.”

Sven started to look sad again, his eyes down cast as he rubbed his arm.

Wren didn’t try him to push him to open up further, the topic of his mother was clearly a sensitive one and if Sven wanted to talk about it, then the elf would be more than willing to listen to whatever woes or frustrations he may have. But he wouldn’t pry.

He didn’t want to comfort the lad though but couldn’t find the right words.

So he resorted to wrapping his arm around Sven’s shoulder and pulling him in for a half hug. There was a barely audible gasp as Sven went incredibly still, clearly not expecting the sudden physical contact but after a few short breaths, he slowly let himself relax and lean into Wren’s side. Maybe it was a trick of the burning torches but Wren could have swore that he saw a tiny smile on the boy’s lips. He must have been imagining it.

They settled into a comfortable silence, just staring up at the riftstone.

At some point Wren sharply inhaled when he felt Sven’s more delicate hand reach up and brush his fingertips over the older man’s hand that was still on his shoulder, he paid extra attention to the elf’s rough knuckles for some reason. Wren glanced down, thinking that the human may want to start a conversation but no. Sven’s gaze was still fixed on the riftstone.

Was he...

No, he probably didn’t even realize what he was doing.

Wren was just over thinking it, he should just enjoy this peaceful moment while it lasted and-

“The way you speak of the pawns...”

Why did they always manage to surprise each other by speaking suddenly?

Sven didn’t stop his motion of caressing the elf’s knuckles as he looked back up at the man, their eyes meeting after a series of awkward topics. Wren had to swallow the lump in his throat. “Have you encountered many? I had no idea they would give someone who wasn’t a fellow pawn the time of day, the tomes say they only interact with other pawns or the Arisen.” Ah, that was... shit! Wren really put his foot in it by suggesting making conversation with pawns, didn’t he? Anyone else would have let the topic go and probably never dwell on it again but Sven wasn’t like that, Sven was curious, he hung on every word the elf spoke and followed it up with more questions. Wren should have known better.

Now he had to think of a explanation that would sate the boy’s curiousity without hinting at his true identity as the Arisen.

“They will not ignore you should you try to speak with a pawn, they simply will not follow any order you should give them. Even if you are ordering them to save themselves in a dire situation.”

“They will just stand and accept their fate?”

“Yes.”

“That... What a hollow existence.”

Indeed, Wren couldn’t imagine Nug as one of those wandering pawn. With no one to talk to, no one to teach her new things, the loneliness that she would feel had to be unbearable. When thinking about things like the empty lives of a pawn, Wren had to remind himself that he was lucky to have Asharae by his side. Not everyone was fortunate enough to be able to travel with someone they trusted with their lives.

This took an unexpected somber turn.

Sven must have picked up on it from the way he was shuffling on the spot, lightly chewing on his bottom lip as he tried to think of a way to change the subject. Hearing about how pawns had no control over their lives, it hit too close to home for him.

He kept looking between his feet and the riftstone, he had more questions about it and the pawns seeing as Wren appeared to know more than the books that Sven had read over the years. All of those were very sanitized and mainly focused on the efforts of the Sovran at the time, their pawns were little more than a foot note in history and maybe they would have a memorial carving in the courtyard of the palace. It seemed unfair.

“Touch the riftstone.”

Sven let out a scandalized gasp, jumped away from Wren’s embrace and held his hand up to his mouth in a weak attempt to cover it.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Touch the riftstone.” Wren repeated, he was loving this reaction from the younger.

“Touch- My word! I could ne’er do such a thing!” He replied, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “Tis forbidden to touch a riftstone unless you are the Arisen or the care taker of the Pawn Guild! Should I be seen doing such a thing, I would...” Sven could kiss any chance of being able to wander the streets ‘goodbye forever’ if he was caught and dragged back to the palace, his mother would be furious. And then there was the punishment that Wren would be given for just being in Sven’s company, Sven didn’t want the older man to get in trouble.

But Wren persisted.

“Look around you, my dear, no one is watching us. The care taker will not report you to the sentinels and I certainly won’t, go on...”

“But I... I couldn’t possibly... c-could I?”

Stepping up to his own challenge and with a confident grin on his face, Wren reach forward and placed his hand on the riftstone. It was only when he felt the magick of the rift enter through his palm and up his arm that he began mentally kicking himself for doing something so reckless. He was so focused on showing off to his young friend that Wren didn’t even think about what would happen if the riftstone were to illuminate and prepare itself for use. How was he meant to explain that to Sven if it happened?!

The boy might be naive but he wasn’t stupid, he would know what glowing riftstone meant.

When it didn’t illuminate, his shoulders dropped and he sighed in relief.

Okay, no more stupid risks!

Well...

Maybe one more but only because he found that nervous expression on Sven’s face completely adorable. “See?” Wren pointed out, nodding to the hand that was on the stone. “Tis completely safe.”

Wide, innocent eyes darted around as if searching for anyone that jump around the corner and call for the sentinels the moment Sven’s fingertips would make contact with the black stone. He cast a glance at the caretaker, who was more focused on organizing a shelf of tomes and completely ignoring the presence of the human and elf, then back to Wren. The older man wouldn’t purposely put him in harms way, Sven was just over thinking things, there was nothing to be scared of.

With a shaky hand, Sven slowly reached out.

The tips of his fingers barely grazed the riftstone when he flinched and withdrew his hand, letting out a tiny gasp when a completely new sensation. He didn’t know how to describe it but it felt shocking, it felt nice so the boy tried again.

“My word!” Sven’s voice was barely above a whisper. But the smile on his face grew, no longer nervous but filled with giddy excitement as he flattened out his fingers and pressed his palm against the stone. “What is this feeling?” He asked. “My hand... it feels warm and there is this strange sensation, I have no words to describe it.”

“Tis magick.” Wren supplied.

“Magick...” He repeated and wiggled his fingers, testing to see if the sensation changed or vanished with movement but it didn’t. It moved with him and eased any tension in his arm from the elbow down. “It feels wonderful.”

“It does.” Wren agreed but it did make him wonder. He didn’t think he could describe the magick that came off the riftstone as ‘warm’, yes, there was a certain comfort to it. It gave him a sense of security, like going home and he thought that was because he was the Arisen. It made sense that the Arisen would feel connected to the stone just like the pawns but could the people who weren’t Arisen feel something from the stone too? Something beyond the surface level magick?

What was it about the riftstone that made Sven feel safe?

“I... I have heard there are many riftstones in the world, some have unfortunately been destroyed by vandals and bandits. Such a disrespectful act...” The human cursed, shaking his head in disapproval. How could anyone destroy something so sacred to the Arisen? The very thing that allowed the protector of the world to summon pawns, who were just as important as the Arisen, did these people want the world to fall to ruin? “Could it be true that they all the same markings? And if so, who made them? Can a riftstone be made by an Arisen? A pawn? Or perchance a very skilled mage? Tis a work of art, these stones must be treasured.”

They should be treasured.

Wren couldn’t count how many broken riftstones they had discovered be it by accident or Nug or another pawn leading them to it but it was always a depressing sight, not just for Wren but Nug too. He could see the sadness in her eyes when they came across that circle of stones with what could only be described as rumble in the middle. And who could blame her for being upset?

Riftstones were how pawns got back to the Rift, their home.

It would be like someone telling Wren and Asharae that they couldn’t ever go back home. Though given everything that was happening, it wasn’t like they were able to leave any time they wanted, they were stuck even if Wren didn’t want to reclaim his heart.

But Sven did raise a good question.

Who was it that made these stones?

Pawns came from them and the Arisen had the power to repair them. Well, most of them.

Was it one of them or someone with greater power? Someone from beyond the Rift or further?

Or maybe it was just a mage that had more power than the average mortal, how else would they know what symbols to carve into the stone to make it a path between not only this world and the Rift but the many other worlds that housed other Arisen. All on the same journey that Wren was and they didn’t even know each other.

Know that he wasn’t the only one on this strange path was strange comfort and also a headache, he didn’t want to think of others going through the same torment he did.

How strange...

Wren must have looked upon dozens of riftstones since coming to Vermund, perhaps even hundreds before coming here and not once did he remember actually looking at them, taking in the ancient design that they all bared. All riftsones were basically the same so why should he take the time to study each individual one?

But now, staring at the grand riftstone of the Pawn’s Guild... He had seen it many a time. The soft blue glow of the other worldly magick that would emerge from the carved runes, it pulsed in time with a heart beat, starting from the center and fading as it reached the edges. It should make Wren miss the feeling of his own heartbeat but he was distracts by the swirl pattern of the runes, the longer he stared at it, the more it made his head hurt.

But why?

It made no sense.

Why was this pain appearing now and not every other time he stood before a riftstone?

‘It was cramped. He couldn’t move without any of his limbs making contact with another body.

And it was quiet.

No one else around him uttered a single word, all Wren could hear was their steady breaths of his companions and the steady beat of oxen hooves. It was dark. Why was it so dark?

Wren should be scared but he was more confused.

The next thing he recalls was a gloved hand grabbing him by the hair and being dragged from the dark place and into the blistering heat of the sun. It was disorientating, there were more voices barking out orders and forcing his eyes back open he was met with red stone cliffs and a towering stone wall. No, not a wall.

It was a door! A door with a spiral of runes that was emitting an other worldly glow.

Where... ’

“ARGHH! SHIT!” Wren swore, clutching at his head.

Not another migraine, not now. Not in front of Sven.

A splitting pain, like taking a battle axe right on the crown, cause Wren to hunch forward and screw his eyes shut to stop his vision from swirling further. It already felt like he was walking on unsteady ground, like the stone floor was ready to give way beneath him at any moment and he would be swallowed up by the land. He was going to be sick. He was going to pass out.

Wait! His Pack!

He still had his pack and that meant he had the salubrious brew that Asharae had spent many nights cutting, grinding and brewing for this very situation. It wouldn’t remove the pain entirely but it would ease it and make it so that her brother could function without the fear of collapsing from the agony. But Wren felt so dizzy that he couldn’t even muster the coordination to slip his pack off and rummage through it to even find the bottle.

“S-Ser Wren! Are you in pain?” Sven cried out in panic. His head whipped back and forth, searching for help but who could he ask? Who could he trust to not recognize him then drag him back to the palace and leave his friend to suffer along? Maybe Asharae was near by and he could rush over to get her, she would know what to do to help her older brother but he couldn’t see here anywhere or that very tall beastren that was always looming over them. They were alone in this. “Is there aught I can do?”

“I... I need to sit.”

“Sit? Ah! Yes, somewhere to... O’er here!” Holding onto the crook of Wren’s arm, Sven lead him to the steps inside the guild and urged the man to sit.

Now that there was no risk of him falling over, Wren was able to take off his pack and start digging around, he pulled out a half full bottle of salubrious brew, pops out the stopper and gulped down the remaining liquid. He closed his eyes and started taking deep slow breathes; taking long inhales, holding for three seconds and then slowly letting it out and repeating the process. The sound of people chatting outside, footsteps on the cobble streets and even the crackle of the torches inside the guild helped Wren focus on anything that wasn’t his own pain.

There was still a little brew in the bottle, he drank the rest of it.

Sven chose to spoke up again. Keeping his voice low, worrying that any loud noise would cause further pain to his friend. “There must be aught I can do. Mayhap I can find your sister? Ser Asharae, was it? She can help you, yes?”

“No. I merely need a moment to compose myself.” And stop his head from imploding.

With the curative now gone, all Wren could do now was wait for the effects to kick in.

So he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, pressed his fingers against his temple and tried to massage the pain away. It didn’t help much. His vision was still a bit blurry and instead of the battle axe, it felt like a goblin was on his back and beating him over the head with a spiked club now. One of these days Wren was so worried that he would be hit with a migraine so bad that it might make him bleed from his ears and when- if that happened, Asharae would fear the worst.

Fear that the curse was slowly killing her brother.

They had to find a cure.

He had to speak to Brant, see if the man managed to find out any more information about this curse or even its origin. Even if they just knew where it came from, that was would be a start, Wren and Asharae have worked with less and found results. Most of their investigations were just guess work and luck, after all.

Then he felt a small hand on his back.

It was so faint and timid but even though the layers of his tunic, leather vest and heavy cloak, he could feel Sven gently rubbing small circle in an effort to ease his pain.

Lifting his head and opening his eyes, even through his blurry vision he could see the distress on the boy’s face. He looked so scared, so lost. “I...” Sven began then stopped, he turned away. “Forgive me, I am not versed in comforting others. I doubt my pitiful efforts are even helping but I could not sit by and watch you suffer.”

‘Such a gentle heart...’ The elf thought, feeling a weight lift off his being at the younger’s words. Compassion wasn’t lost in Vermund. Ulrika, Beren and Brant were proof of that but there was no deny that were was a tone of selfishness in the land that Wren couldn’t put his finger on, it couldn’t all be blamed on the Queen Regent. She might be a tyrant but people were responsible for their actions and that is why spending time with Sven was so appreciated by Wren, the lad might be secretive but he was sweet and he was compassionate. Even if Wren couldn’t put it into words, he was grateful to have the little lord in his life.

“You have helped me more than you know, you sweet thing.” He praised gently.

Sven turned back to the his friend, his face far more red now and there was no hiding it. He muttered out a quick ‘thank you’ then continued rubbing circles on Wren’s back, they sat in silence after that.

There was no need to talk, they could just enjoy each other’s company.

-

It felt like it took forever but in reality, it couldn’t have been longer than thirty minutes but the world eventually stopped spinning and Wren no longer felt like his head was being cracked open like an egg.

He didn’t have to be bent over with his head nearly in his own lap, when the pain began to fade he leaned completely back on the stairs, not giving a damn at the annoyance as the edges of each step dug into his back. He welcomed it, if anything. It was another distraction and the cool sensation of the stone was also nice. His pack was still rest at his feet and during this entire time, Sven hadn’t left his side once, Wren was incredibly touched at this.

Obviously when he started lying reclining, the human could no longer rub his back so Sven returned to sitting like the proper little noble that Wren often saw him as. Back straight, hands on his lap and not making a sound, the only thing betraying this noble visage was the concern on his face. A proper noble would never let any kind of emotion show in public much less help anyone in need but Sven wasn’t like that. Sure, he was visibly distressed by his friend’s ill health and even at a loss of what to do but he stayed and that was all that mattered to the elf.

Just having him there.

It was also clear that he had more questions and going by the pursed manner of his lips, he was struggling to keep them to himself.

So Wren decided to give him that little push, he was owed some answers.

“Go on.” He urged, reaching over to playfully poke at the human’s side, making Sven squeak and jolt. An adorable reaction, if Wren was being honest. Sven’s hands immediately went to the area that was touched, his mouth kept opening and closing as he had to process that now on top of everything else, was this kind of behaviour normal among the common folk or was Wren teasing him?

“I...”

Maybe this was a question that could wait until their next meeting.

A bit of light teasing wasn’t as important as his friend’s health.

“My friend, you were in such pain and it happened so suddenly.” Too suddenly. It was instantaneous, in fact and it terrified the human. For a moment he thought that Wren had been attacked, hit with and arrow or a spell or suffering from the effects of a deadly poison but for it to be only a headache, even Sven found that hard to believe. Nothing was that painful unless it was also serious. Could it be his only friend was deathly ill? “What caused this?”

The was a beat of silence as they shared a look.

Wren seemed conflicted, worried. As though his choice of words might upset Sven but Sven was already upset, he just wanted to know now that his friend would be alright and if he wasn’t…

No, he wouldn’t jump to conclusions.

“Tis… a simple ailment.” The elf finally answered, breaking their eye contact and Sven had never felt more offended. His hands that were once resting in his lap where now clenched into fists.

“You are lying to me.”

‘Not as naive as he leads people to believe, I see.’

Wren sighed and turned his gaze towards the ceiling, he felt a shamed for lying and under normal circumstance he wouldn’t do it. Under normal circumstances he would just tell Sven that he was the Arisen, explain that his identity was a sensitive topic and be done with it. He was certain that the little human would understand, other people than knew he was the Arisen understood and swore to keep it a secret but also spread word of his name, letting others know that he was helping people and so far nothing bad had happened. Though he shouldn’t get to comfortable with that either, they were always careful about who they told this secret to.

And now Wren wanted to tell Sven so what was stopping him?

In short, he wanted to avoid a swift kick up the arse from Asharae.

Asharae was a very paranoid person but with Sven, it was something else. He didn’t understand where it was coming from and it was only because he gave her his word that he wouldn’t tell Sven anything that he hadn’t confessed to the younger.

Now that promise was coming back to bite him on the arse.

Or rather, drop a number of bricks on his head.

“I am but only because I do not know how else to describe this predicament. How it came to me is unclear.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. He knew who cursed him, he just didn’t know how they were able to do it and what with. And even if he did know how it was done, Wren hadn’t the slightest idea of how he would begin explaining it to Sven without giving everything away. He was stuck and he hated it, above all he hated that lost expression on the younger’s face. It just didn’t belong there.

That was a face that deserved to smile.

The need to see Sven smile was so great that Wren pushed himself to sit up again, shoving down the lingering feeling of nausea and reacted over to gently cup the human’s face. Sven was ready to urge the elf to lie back down but the moment that calloused, warm hand made contact with his cheek, he went completely still. Unsure how to react or if he should even say something in response. He was barely to catch himself from leaning further into the welcoming touch when Wren’s thumb began to caress his cheek.

Such open physical affection…

It was as foreign to Sven as Battahl was.

And Wren could tell.

Not everyone was as physically affectionate as him but he could tell that the human was on another level of… should he call it repressed? Yes, that seemed like the right word.

There were very few other ways to describe how nobles treated basic displays of kindness.

“Now, do not let my predicament put a sour look on your face. I give you my word that this pain is only temporary, it will pass… it always does.” It was just taking longer and longer now. But he always bounced back, he just hoped this time it wouldn’t involve vomiting. That was the last thing he wanted to do in front of his friend.

There was a moment where Sven reached up to place his hand over Wren’s but halted the moment they made the briefest skin contact and his hand immediately went back to it’s place in his lap but instead of being curled in frustration, it was gripped the fabric of his breeches so tight, if he had claws it would rip them apart. How could something as small as a little physical contact make someone look this conflicted and confused?

“No, no. Tis not your ailment that upsets me. Although, I am worried for you, I simply...” Sven hung his head then looked over his shoulder at the back entrance to the guild with an almost guilty expression. “I have been gone from the palace for much too long, someone is bound to have noticed I am gone but I find myself unable to leave your side. I would be a terrible friend should I leave you in such a vulnerable state where anyone charlatan or pickpocket could take advantage but if I am found outside the palace grounds...”

Ah, that explained the conflict.

“Go home.” Wren ordered, taking his hand back.

And Sven panicked.

For a moment he thought the elf was mad at him. Mad for not staying by his side but there was no anger of the older man’s face. Just understanding.

“B-But, you are-”

“I am recovering.” The elf cut in, not going to let the lordling tangle himself in knots to make sense of an already stressful situation and then get in further trouble if someone did know he was missing. “The moment I am able, I shall return home to my sister and you can rest easy knowing that I will not be alone, you need not worry for me, my dear.”

From the way Sven was chewing on his bottom lip, he clearly wasn’t convinced but knew he couldn’t argue either. He had to get back home as soon as possible. “You are quite sure you are well enough to venture off on your own? Should you need it, I would gladly escort you home.” Sven offered in the most earnest way, he wouldn’t care if if got caught then. Imagine if he decided to leave then later found out that the elf had fainted and was serious hurt, Sven would feel terrible. He might not be able to protect Wren in the tradition sense or even offer a cure for his pain but at the very least he could escort the elf home and make sure he was safe there.

But Wren wasn’t having it.

He shook his head and adopted a more authoritative expression, some might call it pulling ‘big brother rank’. Something he occasionally did with both Asharae and Nug when they weren’t willing to look after themselves and were more focused on his well being. “You have done more than enough.” He said firmly. “Next we meet, it shall be my turn to repay this kindness. Now return to your home.”

There was that adorable pout again.

Wren had to discretely pinch his own leg to stop himself from smiling fondly at the way Sven’s nose with wrinkle when he looked serious. This was not the time to we swayed by his baby deer appearance.

“You will return home the moment you are able? No distractions?” Sven asked, showing his noble birthright with how his tone was strong but didn’t quite hold the same authority that a more experienced noble would have. Give it time though and he would giving orders along with with the best of them. Hopefully not the worst, it would break Wren’s missing heart to see Sven’s king nature be broken and twisted into something ugly.

“I give you my word.”

“Then I suppose this is fare well until we next meet. Pray, take care… I would be awfully vexed should aught befall my dearest friend.”

His only friend, Wren suspected.

“Naught shall befall me, now run along.”

There was another moment of hesitation as Sven stared at his friend with something unreadable in his eye, it was hidden behind a thick wall of guilt, he looked like he wanted to do something but didn’t have the courage. So he just nodded, muttered out another ‘take care’ and left the guild from the back entrance. Wren craned his head back to watch him leave, maybe next time Sven would say what was on his mind when things weren’t as gloomy.

He wished this surprised meeting wasn’t so traumatic but maybe this was something that Sven needed to experience, it was clear from his actions and words he had never been around someone that was suffering in pain of any kind. His mother most likely sheltered him from true suffering and it had an impact on the lad, Wren could relate to that. There was nothing worse than seeing someone you care about suffer and not knowing how to help them. ‘I shall have to think of aught to cheer him up on our next visit.’ Wren thought, the damage was done but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find a way to bring a little light back to their friendship.

Wren stayed in the guild for another ten minutes, just staring up at the ceiling and reflecting on what just happened.

It wasn’t until now that he realized he had technically been lying to Sven all this time but at the same time, how could he have known that he would have become friends with the finely dressed little ‘urchin’ that crashed into him on his return to Vernworth? Their friendship wasn’t one sided in the least, Wren valued the human greatly and that feeling was mutual.

If other people, even if that was a small number, could know about him being the Arisen then why couldn’t Sven?

He deserved to know at this point and caution be damn, Wren was going to tell him when he found the right words and the situation was right. It wasn’t exactly something he could just blurt out in the middle of the market square. Well, he could but chances are he would be swarmed but a number of sentinels that would accuse him of being a liar and a criminal; who would be more mad at him in that situation? Asharae or captain Brant?

Ugh, he hadn’t even considered his sister’s own dislike of Sven when he thought about this. She would never trust him again if he did this without running it past her first, these were the kind of choices they made together as a team but if Asharae had her way, no one would know who Wren is and they would be half way back to their home village at this point. This couldn’t continue. Asharae just had to bite the arrow and accept her brother’s friendship with a human, maybe he won’t tell Sven his secret right away but he would one day, after he had a word with his sister.

It was decided.

He would get to the bottom of why Asharae was even more distrustful of Sven compared to everyone else and then he would tell Sven who he was, no more secrets. Just an open and honest friendship, that’s what he wanted.

That’s all he wanted.

“Are you certain that’s all you desire?” A voice in his head added.

Wren quickly shook it away.

Of course, that was it. What else could he possibly want?

He was getting too tangled up in his own foggy mind, he should just focus on what he originally came to the Pawn Guild to do and that was hire a pawn to replace the one they had lost to a sentient blob of slime. He almost forgot about that, returning home without a new companion would have been embarrassing.

And with his migraine gone for the most part and Sven taken care of, there was nothing holding stopping him from completing this long awaited task. Wren pushed himself up from the stairs, swung his pack back over his shoulder and approached the riftstone, the rest was easy.

He summoned a new mage that met their requirements and they could afford to hire with the rift crystals they had been collecting, strange to think that pawns of all people would require payment before serving an Arisen but whatever worked for them. Wren wasn’t going to question pawn logic.

They had a bit of a straight forward attitude, that should make things entertaining when it collided with Asharae’s own brash personality.

Wren was looking forward to it.

-

“Ah, you finally managed to recruit the mage!” Asharae exclaimed in relief.

It looked like she hard a productive afternoon too.

All of their packs looked a good deal lighter than when they parted ways and Wren would have to be blind to not see that fat coin purse securely tied to Nug’s belt, the pawn had taken her role as the carrier of the majority of their traveling funds very seriously. It was only decided that Nug should be the one to hold it after Wren and Asharae got into an argument over it. Asharae said ti was stupid to let her brother hold it because he would just give it all to the first person that asked without even asking why first and Wren said if she held it, they would never spend it. Living on the land had made Asharae notoriously frugal over the years and with the prices in Vernworth for a night at the inn, the bath house or even a cooked meal; her pockets had become even tighter.

So Nug was their money keeper.

Asharae stood before their new mage, hands on her hips and taking in the pawn’s appearance, searching for any sign of weakness. The pawn stood tall and met her judging gaze with no hesitation on their part, a smirk tugged on the edge of Asharae’s scarred lips and she nodded in approval. “You made a good choice, brother.”

“Brother?” The pawn echoed. Looking at Wren with bewilderment.

Wren chuckled at the reaction.

He had seen the look on many a pawn’s face since their journey began, apparently it was odd for the Arisen to travel with anyone that was not a pawn. That concept was completely lost on Wren, if the help was more than willing then why limit his aid to just pawns? Granted, he didn’t want to put anyone else’s lives at risk but surely he wasn’t the only Arisen to have a companion as stubborn as Asharae or was he alone in having a sister that was just as over baring as she was full of bravery and loyalty?

This was a question for Nug next time she made a trip across the rift to help other Arisen.

“Yes, this is my younger sister. Asharae.” Wren introduced, noticing how the other elf stood a bit taller at the introduction. She took more pride in them being brother and sister than him being the Arisen, or a reluctant Sovran. Most would love to be related to the fabled hero that was destined to save the land from the fierce dragon… he had to stop reading those trashy romance tomes, they were starting to make him romanticize the role of the Arisen. That was the one thing Wren didn’t glorify.

“I see...” The pawn continued, still looking a little confused. “How strange. An Arisen that willingly travels with other mortals, this will make for an interesting tale for my own master.”

Gossipy pawn.

“Tis not strange!” Nug butted in, clearly taking offence that someone would call Asharae ‘strange’. She’s been called worse over the years, ‘strange’ was almost a compliment in comparison. “Were it not for the efforts of Ser Asharae, many a battle would have-”

“GWAAARHH!”

The group turned on their heel towards the source of the ground shaking roar. There was no need to ask what could have caused it because the source was clear in view.

In the open square, a hulking cyclops stomped violently, swinging its club to keep away the sentinels, lead by captain Brant, that were trying to repel it and force it back out of the gates but it stood its ground. And the surrounding chaos only made things worse, civilians were running around in a blind panic, knocking over any unfortunate person that got in their path and then there was the near by oxen stables. Whether the gates to the stable had been left open on purpose or knocked open in the madness was unclear but it resulted in the oxen charging out and making the situation worse.

But they captured the cyclops’ attention.

It’s one eye focused on the usually gentle animals and began drooling uncontrollably at the thought of eating something with that much meat on its body. It tried to go after the oxen but the sentinels got in it’s path, they only made the cyclops even madder.

There was no hesitation in Wren and Asharae’s next course of action.

Asharae didn’t make a fuss about having to dive head first into a dangerous fight and Wren didn’t have to convince her to help people. The just acted on instinct with the pawns closely behind them.

With the cyclops focusing on the sentinels, Wren and Asharae took a running leap onto the cyclops’ back and scaled up its rough skin, the texture was similar to that of the bark on a tree which made the climb that much easier. Nug was as reliable as ever, with her great sword in hand, she swung at its leg and imbedded the blade into the flesh, making it stagger and halt in its efforts to crush the sentinels. Brant seized this opportunity.

“Men! Forward!” He bellowed.

The sentinels swarmed at the cyclops’ feet, causing it to panic and drop its club.

The bulky weapon landed on three sentinels, Wren and Asharae couldn’t tell if any of them were killed or just unconscious but they didn’t have the luxury to stop and check either so they kept climbing.

Asharae paused and stabbed one of her daggers into the cyclops’ back to anchor herself while Wren carried on up to its head, once at its hunched shoulders, he pushed himself up onto his feet and readied his bow. The stumbling cyclops made it hard to stay steady but Wren was hanging in there, he drew an arrow, leaped on the cyclops’ face and kicked off with his foot, launching himself backwards. And mid air, he loosed the arrow, hitting it dead in the eye.

Instead of landing on the cobbled street, his fighter pawn caught him and gently set him on the ground. “I’ve got you, Master!”

With an arrow in its eye, the cyclops staggering back and Asharae withdrew her dagger from its back and scrambled up until she reach the head. Cyclops had extremely hard skulls to go along with their thick skin so this wasn’t a situation where she could just hack away until it bled to death but even with an arrow its eye, that was still the most vulnerable spot to attack. So wrapping her hand around the arrow, she wrenched it out and pulled the cyclops’ eye clean out of the socket and threw it to the ground. And with the target clear, Asharae drove her dagger into the empty socket and twisted it violently causing the cyclops to wail in agony and blood pour down its face. Then the smell of burning hit her nose.

Why was there burning?

Wren hadn’t fired an explosive arrow.

And there was an intense heat building up under her head.

Looking a her free dagger, Asharae was stunned to see a burning glow consume the metal. ‘ Fire magicka! ’ But Asharae didn’t know how to cast enchantments...

Then from the corner of her eye, a flash of fire blasted into the cyclops’ side from the newly hired mage pawn, did Wren pick this pawn because they knew how to cast a fire enchantment? And if her daggers were enchanted then-

A number of fire blessed arrows impaled into the cyclops’ body and Asharae looked up to see Wren’s bow was also enchanted, along with Nug’s great sword and despite their tough hide, cyclops fat was extremely flammable. This beast was going to go up like a candle! If it would just stop thrashing around, that is!

It’s massive arms swung around blindly, trying to shake off not only the pain that the fire arrows were causing but also get the elf off his back and hopeful the danger out of its eyes but Asharae clung on tighter than tic to an ogre’s arse. If the cyclops was focusing on her then it meant Wren, Nug and the sentinels around them could attack as along as they weren’t hit first. Then a bottle filled with a yellowish liquid came flying into Asharae’s line of sight.

‘Oil?!’

She barely had time to duck behind the cyclops’ head when the bottle shattered on impact, drenching the cyclops’ head and igniting the flames further. The heat was intense, she swore under her breath as she struggled to cling on but the battle around her kept going. The sentinels’ kept battering their swords against their shields to confuse the monster, Nug was hacking away at its legs to unsteady it, the mage was keeping the fire magick going strong and Wren’s aim was as flawless as ever.

With one last roar of agony, the cyclops stopped its rampage, its limbs went limp and it began to lean backwards. Ready to drop dead with Asharae still on it’s back.

This was bad.

If she stayed on the cyclops’ back then Asharae would start looking like her brother did that first night in Melve if she wasn’t crushed into a bloody pulp but if she were jump from this height… She could only hope that newly hired mage was good at healing broken or possibly shattered bones. ‘Now, now, Asharae, tis no different that falling out of a tree when you were a child.’ She tried to remind herself as she dislodged her dagger from it’s eye socket before the plunge. ‘Just imagine it is that but the tree is on fire and will crush you like a grape should it fall on you!’

No time for a motivational count down, she just closed her eyes tight and leaped.

But there was no solid impact, no cracking of her bones as she landed on the ground because she didn’t land on the ground.

Peeking open one eye, Asharae was astounded and relieved to see that she had landed in the skinny but very welcome arms of Nug who was sporting a grin that was so bright it could rival the sun.

“I’ve got you, Ser Asharae!”

Asharae grinned back at the pawn. “My thanks, Nug!”

“Sister!” Wren called out in fear as he ran over and pulled his younger sister into a tight hug, practically pulling her out of Nug’s arms as he did so. The female elf stumbled and nearly lost her footing in the process. Wren only pulled away to look her over, searching for injuries. “Are you hurt? Burned? The oil, I did not mean for it to-”

Asharae held her hand up, cutting the older elf off. “You made the right choice, I would have done the same.” She would have thrown a bottle of oil at brother if he was near an exposed flame?

Let’s not touch that thought for a moment.

Wren was more concerned with checking his sister for injuries and burns, there were a few but nothing to cause him to panic. Their new mage could cast a healing spell and make it like they never existed to begin with, now if only there was a spell to vanish away that burning cyclops carcass.

“Your Majesty, thank the Great Will that you are all unharmed.” Brant breathed as he came over to the group, the man looked just as exhausted as they felt. “Had you not been here then I fear there would many unnecessary deaths.” So this was an oddity. Not just for a monster to actually get inside the city walls but for the sentinels, the people who were trained to protect these walls and the people that lived in side them, to also struggle. This was very troubling. Would it get to the point where Wren and Asharae couldn’t even leave the city gates out of fear that something more deadly than a cyclops would take the opportunity and strike?

Clearly, Brant was having these same fear as he rubbed his forehead examined the destruction around him.

No one died, that was good thing.

But people had been hurt.

The ox stable would take weeks to repair and two of the oxen had been killed. Sentinels had been injured, some had to be carried away and unfortunately their were innocent people in those numbers too. This wasn’t something that Wren looked into personally but he hoped there were enough skilled healers in Vernworth to help those people because the Gracious Hand sisters were already up to their necks with sick and dying. Maybe Wren would hire a second mage and they could help with the effort.

“I prayed this day would not ne’er come...” The captain whispered, he probably thought that no one had heard him but the elves did, and they were instantly drawn in.

“What day?” Wren quickly asked. There had better not be an evil cyclops war lord out there raising an army to attack Vernworth that they now had to take on as well as the Queen Regent and the dragon. Arisen or not, Wren was only one man and even with the aid of Asharae, Nug or any other pawn they might hire, there were times where even he had to say ‘no’. “Is this aught that my sister and I should be aware of?”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty. I swear the only reason I did not mention this before is because I honestly believed that it wouldn’t happen.”

“What wouldn’t happen?”

“The rise of monsters.” “In the times before the birth of Vermund, the arrival of the dragon would cause wars between nations, each had their reason but t’would always end in bloodshed. There was a time that Vermund and Battahl would be on the brink of war but our previous consul was able to negotiate a treaty that ensured that should the dragon descend, neither country would attack the other. Instead, we would ally together to combat the dragon.”

Okay, that was a small relief.

He had heard enough beastren related slurs throw at Nug from idiots who didn’t know she was a pawn but even then, the pawn slurs were just as bad. They were just more subtle because pawns were meant to be respected as servants of the Sovran. But the open hostility towards beastren was troubling and it had lead Wren to wonder what ties were like with Battahl, from gossip on the streets, they were tense.

It was good to hear that there was an official agreement between the countries to disregard any bad blood and work towards protect their people from the dragon. Land disputes and trade agrees looked so petty when there was the fear of burning in an inferno was hanging over your head but this treaty didn’t explain the cyclops walking into Vernworth and none of the trained sentinels could take it down.

“And what does this have to do what the dead cyclops that is currently blocking the streets?”

“Tis part of the reason for our treaty with Battahl. Along with the dragon, a wave of monster attacks are swift to follow but this time the monster attacks have been delayed, I had hoped it meant it would not happen and we would be spared the additional bloodshed. Though staring at the body of this cyclops... I know now that I was naive to hope that the wave of monster attacks would pass o’er us. I should have seen the signs sooner.”

...

Well, at least it wasn’t a cyclops war lord or anything along the lines of that.

But this was still greatly concerning too.

“So this is just the beginning.”

Brant gave a solemn nod. “Indeed, Your Majesty.”

That throbbing pain in his skull came back ten fold.

-

“So there is more of this to come.”

Those words were had been ringing in Wren’s head for the last hour.

“This shan’t be the last invasion we drive back.” That had been Brant’s exact words before he left to see if any of the civilians were hurt or buildings were damaged and these words drove a dagger of fear into Wren’s chest. He couldn’t deny that when coming and going from the city he had noticed monsters were getting bolder with each passing day, goblins were making camps closer to the roads and not even bothering with ambushes anymore, just going in for the kill and leaving nothing behind but bludgeoned bodies and burning remains of ox carts. Saurians were moving in on the river that ran through the farm lands, indulging themselves on the fish that swam their and scaring away farmers looking to water their crops and even passing fishermen; and even the wolves were getting a taste for human flesh.

When the harpies started getting hungry they would have to increase the number of archers on the city walls to shoot them down. And then a support group of soldiers to wake up the archers when they fell under the harpies’ spell.

“Hmmm, it appears that way...” Asharae replied nonchalantly as she wiped down the dried blood from her daggers. Fire enchantments were great for damaged but no one talked about how they cooked the flesh they stabbed into and caused blood to dry rapidly on the blade and burnt flesh to stick as well. It was disgusting to look at, it smelled bad too.

After the fight with the cyclops and enlightening chat with Brant, the group wandered over to the benches next to the oxen stable, sat down and tried to process this latest information. Wren and Nug were on the bench, Wren leaning forward with his head in his hands while Asharae was on the ground, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the heel while Nug was staring at the lumpy corpse of the cyclops. “Are we tasked with moving the body?” She wondered and the siblings wasted no time in responding. “No.”

“We kill the monsters, not once has that included disposing of the bodies.” Asharae explained then she paused, looked back at the her brother and smirked. “Well, we have been paid to remove a few goblins or undead bodies in the past.”

“There is a very large difference between a handful of goblins and one hulking cyclops.”

“Right. We got paid for those jobs.”

“Not even all the gold in Vermund would tempt me to aid in disposing a cyclops body.” Wren quickly added, his face twisting in disgust at the mere idea. One memory he still had one helping a small village remove a nearly killed cyclops, it wasn’t as simple as tying a couple of oxen to the limbs and having them drag it out of the living space. Out of sight and out of mind didn’t work for large monsters.

Nope, disposing of them involved spending hours of hacking and cutting at the flesh and muscle, dividing which parts could be useful in either alchemy, blacksmithing or even strips of fat that could be used in making oil for lanterns and even trophies. Then came the parts that they couldn’t use, as if the hours spent removing the useful parts weren’t grueling enough by that point the body would have started rotting and they still had to cut up the remaining meat into small parts that could be thrown on a pyre and burned to asked. The process could take all day, maybe even two or three days if they were dealing with other urgent matters but it was a disgusting job and Wren would avoid it like a plague.

Gutting boars and deer was more than enough for him.

But even the smell of rotting and burned cyclops couldn’t distract him from Brant’s warning.

“I recall... t’was a story we were told as children.” Wren began. Asharae’s interest instantly spiked, she was always open to hear about whatever memory he recovered no matter how miniscule he believed it to be. All recovered memories were important. “No, t’was a warning. For when the dragon descends, it will be followed by a wave of monsters who will advance on any and all settlements to spread death and destruction in the dragon’s name. Aught about those words does not feel right...”

Wren agreed. It didn’t feel right.

It was too clean cut.

It reminded Wren too much of the conflicting nature of saurians in this region, everything in his being scared that saurians weren’t openly hostile. They were reclusive and actively avoided humans, so the fact the ones they found in Vernworth liked to travel the roads and attack people like common goblin bands rubbed him the wrong way. And now he had this piece of information to add to it.

Some monsters may follow a leader, saurians had their brood mother, goblins had a hobgoblin and hobgoblins had… an even bigger hobgoblin but they always stuck to their own kind. For them to swear an allegiance to the dragon, what logic was there in that.

They got nothing from that, the dragon was just as much a threat to them as it was to people.

Let this was the belief in Vermund and Battahl? Would it be a stretch to say that other countries over the mountains and past the seas believed this too? They must if this tale was a known thing in their isolated village.

Wren turned to his sister, curiousity on his face. “Do you believe there to be no truth in those words?” He wondered.

Asharae shrugged. “How should I know? You are- were the expert on tales related to the Arisen, you hung on mother’s every word.”

That was true.

But Wren didn’t have the knowledge now, he only had what was in his journal, whatever tomes they could get their hands on, those were full of half truths and exaggerations at best, and any memories that may decide to resurface at a random moment. And they couldn’t depend on his mind being that generous.

“There is truth to Brant’s words. In theory, I suppose...” He reasoned but wasn’t completely sold on the idea, maybe they were over looking the actual power that the dragon had. It wasn’t just a beast of immense size and strength, it had access to magick that no mortal could ever hope to touch. How is to say that it couldn’t control the will of monsters the way an Arisen controls a pawn? Asharae had her own theory though. “The dragon’s arrival signals the end of the world but I do not believe it has a power to drive the monsters into a frenzy. Most beasts are just opportunistic, no different from bandits when you really think about it...”

Wren paused to stare at her.

“People are no different from monsters in your eyes, are they?”

“Humans have yet to prove me wrong thus far...”

Looks like convincing her to be more accepting of Sven was going to be harder than he initially hoped.

There were times that Wren was concerned about Asharae’s jaded view of the world. He had compassion for certain monsters but knew how to identify a threat no matter how fond he might be of the beast. And if Asharae was getting to the point she couldn’t separate monsters from men, that was a slippery slope. He could only hope it wasn’t too late to prove that while there were terrible people in the world, it didn’t mean the good ones should be punished too.

But they couldn’t dwell on these thought any longer. It’s been a long day and with the combination of a migraine and a cyclops attack, Wren just wanted to go home, making dinner for himself, his sister and pawn the rest for the evening. There was plenty of excitement waiting for them tomorrow, they didn’t need a seer or a crystal ball to know that.

“Come, let us return home. Our new pawn has more than earned a hearty meal and I have a craving for roasted meat.”

A chorus of rumbling stomachs was followed by the suggestion of food, there was no need to convince anyone of this. But they didn’t even have the chance to stand up from the bench when a young man approached them with an air of confidence about him. He looked over each pawn then Asharae and finally Wren.

“Say… You’ve a decent arm on you.” The young man pointed out, looking over the male elf.

Wren suddenly felt self conscious under his gaze.

He was no stranger to people staring at him, be it fear, anger, curiosity or lust but this young man was examining him like he was a drawing in a tome. Actually, calling him a ‘young man’ would be a stretch, he was very much a boy despite what his deep voice would suggest though he was dressed in the same colours the sentinels of Vermund wore but no armour. A trainee, perhaps? “I… I suppose I do?” Wren half agreed but wasn’t convinced, could you even say that an archer had a good arm?

The boy chuckled, put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out. No doubt a stance he learned from watching the other sentinels. “No need to be humble. Just the other day, I watched you fell a massive monster with my own two eyes. I’ve ne’er seen the like!”

The other day?

Oh yes, there has been an ogre making itself at home in the run down homes that were just across the river from the farms. Wren hadn’t liked how close it was to the farms and he really didn’t like how few sentinels were actually patrolling the farm borders, should it choose to do so, there would be nothing stopping the ogre from crossing the bridge and raising havoc for the farmers and doing unspeakable things to any women it set its sights on.

This wasn’t like the saurians in Melve where Wren was certain they could be moved, the ogre had to be dealt with.

And that is what they did.

He just wasn’t aware that anyone besides the cackling harpies saw them.

“You’ve been following us?” Asharae pressed, ready to stand up to get in the boy’s face but Nug placed a firm hand on her shoulder and kept her sat on the bench. The boy didn’t step back or flinch under her piercing glare, he stood firm. Maybe he thought that was brave but Wren knew better, bravery wasn’t standing against all threats, that was stupidity. “Not intentionally.” The boy confessed. “T’was not as though I have been following either of you through the streets but the streets aren’t as safe these days. Monsters are showing up more and more, and each time you are there fighting them off with more skill than most sentinels.”

So he had noticed the increase in monster attacks too, other people must have noticed it too and news had to have reached the Queen Regent’s ear.

Just another example of how Disa was letting her people suffer.

Before Wren’s mind could drift back to Melve and wonder how they were coping, the boy took a step closer. Staring at the elf with the most determined look. “Pray, ser, teach me to fight like you do!” He begged and Wren nearly choked on his own tongue.

“Me teach you?!” He coughed.

“Him teach you?!” Asharae parroted, baffled at the ideal of her brother being anyone’s tutor in his current state. He would have shoved her off the bench if he wasn’t completely stunned at the request. Wren stood up and rubbed his forehead, for once it wasn’t one of those agonizing headaches that were building up; he was just struggling to process what was happening. “Wait! Hold for a moment, you wish for me to be your tutor but I do not even know who you are!”

The boy faulted in his eagerness when he realized that he was getting ahead of himself. “Forgive me, ser. My name is Humphrey and I am a student among the guard but I grow tired of patrolling city streets. I wish to do aught that can actually protect people, to be a true warrior!”

A warrior, huh?

Sounds more like the boy was a push away from becoming an amateur sell sword. He might actually need a good teacher but that person could not be Wren, he couldn’t juggle his role as Arisen, duties as a reluctant Sovran, teaching Nug about the world and keeping Asharae on a short line before she beats someone over the head with a rock for looking at them funny. He could not take on a student of any kind.

But Humphrey continued to plead his case.

“I’m after an instructor, see, but the ones in this city are cravens all! The sort that decided to teach to avoid the battlefield.” Sounds like a good number of the guards stationed up at the encampment, the difference had to be that the guards here had more comfortable living quarters. “If I’m to grow stronger, I need to learn from someone who’s seen actual battle, a real warrior! Such as yourself!”

Asharae snorted and Wren kicked her in the shin.

Humphrey stepped closer again, leaving very little space between himself and the uncomfortable elf.

“Won’t you give me a chance?”

He couldn’t.

He just couldn’t take this boy on as a student, there was no possible way.

Wren felt for the boy, he really did. There was no denying that the sentinels that were stationed in Vernworth were slacking off and pushing their tasks on younger, less experienced guards or just ignoring their duties all together. It had to be frustrating for Humphrey and thinking back on the sell sword thought he had earlier, should Humphrey’s ambition get too much then he may take on the path of a mercenary. A path that would no doubt get him killed.

He needed a mentor and it couldn’t be Wren, or even Asharae.

A warrior that had discipline and wouldn’t let Humphrey’s ego get out of control as his skills grew.

“What about Ser Beren?” Nug suddenly suggested, making everyone else turn to her.

Asharae frowned. “Beren?”

“Yes, is he not seeking willing recruits? Surely, this lad’s energy is exactly what he is searching for.”

That… That made a lot of sense.

“Yes...” Wren agreed then grinned, he turned back to Humphrey. His energy suddenly on high again. “Ser Beren would be the ideal mentor for you!”

Humphrey looked a little skeptical at the claim, shifting his weight from one foot and crossing his arms over his chest. “And the Beren fellow… he’s a real warrior?”

“He is a highly skilled warrior and you will learn far more from him than you could e’er learn from me. I swear that if you go to him, you will not regret it.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t recommend him if he wasn’t… and after all, I’ve seen your prowess. I’m inclined to trust your judgement.” Looking much more pleased, Humphrey gave a firm nod and reached out to shake Wren’s hand. “Many thanks, ser! Methinks I’ll seek out this Beren and see what he can teach me.”

“You will not regret it.”

“Wait one moment.” Asharae cut in, shrugging Nug’s hand off her shoulder and standing up to join her brother and the would-be warrior. “If you could remain in Verworth for a few more days, you would be doing not only us but your future a great service.” Where was she going with this?

Humphery was quiet, pondering over the words. But also restless. “What would you need me to do?” He asked and Wren’s face broke into a relieved grin.

“Just stay in Vernworth for no more than a week, my brother shall send a letter to Ser Beren letting him know to expect you but we also need you to transport and protect a half shipment of weapons that he is expecting.” The shipment of weapons! Oh, how could Wren have forgotten about that? Actually, given all that they have been dealing with, it was not surprising that some of their tasks had fallen to the side. Maybe he should look into purchasing a second journal to keep track of all the jobs they have taken on.

“Why only a half shipment? Why not a full one?”

“Lack of supplies to make a full shipment at once.” Asharae explained. “Goblins don’t take kindly to miners entering their cave and taking ore, you know?”

Humphrey was eager to get to Beren and begin his training, that much was clear. And maybe he was a bit hard headed but the boy was not unreasonable. “Very well, I will remain in the city for the time being. Pray, alert me the moment the shipment is ready. I wish to begin my training as soon as possible.”

That could be arranged. The siblings would place the order with Bjorn today and Wren would write a letter for Beren the moment they got home, he couldn’t wait till their next meeting with the rugged beastren.

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.

Chapter Text

“I thought we were delivering these weapons to Ser Beren, why are we going to Melve?” Asharae asked while flicking away a particularly annoying fly.

Why was it bothering her and not the ox pulling the cart?

And who was her brother writing to?

They opted for paying for the ox cart ride instead of doing the walk, it was getting repetitive and tedious and Nug made the point they each time they made the trek to the northern part of the kingdom, they never got to enjoy the scenery because they were too busy watching every shadow and the cliffs for ambushes. It was a good reason to take the ox cart, that and Asharae just didn’t want to walk. Half way through the journey, Wren pulled two pieces of parchment from his pack and began writing on them, he couldn’t be taking notes for his journal, that was also in his pack so why waste the parchment when that was right there? They had to be letters. Because once Wren finished with one, he scribbled down his name then rolled it and whistled for Hawke to hop over before Nug could think of a way to swat the falcon into oblivion and make it look like an accident.

Wren gave the bird a fond smile as he scratched under her wing then carefully tied the letter to her leg. “That’s my good girl.” He whispered, Hawke preened at the praise. She shuffled excitedly as she was fed a piece of dried meat then wasted no time taking off into the air and heading to wherever Wren whispered for her to go.

He then tucked the other letter into his journal, returned the book back to his pack then leaned back in his seat. Head hanging backwards, eyes closed and just letting the sun warm his skin. The quiet was bliss.

And short lived because Asharae just kicked his shin.

“Nngh! Why?” He asked, sitting back up so he could glare at his sister who sent that glare right back at him.

“I asked you a question.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

“She did.” Nug added from her spot.

Wren turned a little red at not noticing. “Oh. What did you ask?”

Asharae snorted and rolled her eyes. “Why are going to Melve instead of straight to Beren? This shipment of weapons isn’t exactly easy to carry, you know?” The second shipment of weapons was finally made and Wren was anxious to deliver them, he also wanted to see how young Humphery’s progress was going. Thinking back on the boy’s energy and ambition, he wasn’t going to be scared away by Beren’s grueling training and if Beren’s hopes were right, Humphery’s energy should inspire the other recruits. And when he announced he wanted to make a short stop at Melve, the confusion was understandable. “It will not be a long visit.” Wren promised. “I had a conversation with captain Brant and he suggested it would be wise for us to regularly check up on Melve and the northern encampment, seeing as the captain can’t spare any recruits to make the journey so-”

“So we get saddled with the grunt work.”

Wren stared through his sister, clearly not amused by by her choice of words.

He didn’t deny her accusation either.

“I wouldn’t have put it in those words.” He replied, his mouth pulled into a tight frown.

“I would.” Asharae muttered under her breath.

In no way did she think Brant was a bad man but no one could convince her that he wasn’t pushing the more menial tasks on her and Wren. Asharae might not know many kings or queens but she was sure they didn’t run around their kingdoms taking care of pest problems, didn’t they have to do diplomatic things to do, like signing missives, waving at the general public and having ten lovers on the side along with a married spouse and a dozen bastards while struggling to conceive a legitimate heir? That last one made Asharae chuckle. Wren was an idiot when it came to matters of romance but even he wasn’t stupid enough to take on multiple lovers at one time, she didn’t think he was capable of noticing anyone else when he developed an infatuation.

And, well, him leaving bastards behind was never a thing she had to worry about.

Stretching her arms above her head, Asharae let out a drawn out yawn and popped a couple of stiff joints. She leaned back against the barrier of the cart and stared up at the slowly passing cliffs. They had just passed the way castle so they should be at Melve within the hour if the ox kept up this pace and there were no ambushes.

The sooner they go there, the better.

But Asharae couldn’t help but let her mind wander in these quiet moments.

“Who are you writing to anyway? I thought we would be giving our next report to the captain in person.” She asked. If it wasn’t Brant then who else was there? They were on their way to meet with Beren so sending him a letter would be pointless, who else did they know well enough to write to?

‘Ugh, if it is that little lordling, I swear-’

“We will, that letter was for Glyndwr. We have not heard from him in some time and I was wishing him luck in his training.” Wren answered as he returned to his own relaxed position, crossing one leg over the other and hanging his head backwards to enjoy the sun. It was such a beautiful day, if they didn’t have so much planned then Wren would have agreed to Nug’s request to take the day off so they could laze around in the grass and enjoying a moment of peace. Maybe one day when they didn’t have a mountain of bounties pinned to the public board in Vernworth and Brant didn’t have a mile long list of Arisen duties for them.

It was something to look forward to.

“Mmhmmm, and the other letter?” Asharae pushed further, raising an eyebrow at her brother’s pack that was resting at his feet. Usually she never bothered about his journal, he always had the old thing. The only other thing that he carried around that much was his old drake scale but that was gone now so all that was left was the journal and now that ratty old thing was more important than ever.

It held so many tales and memories, Wren had taken to reading that more than his trashy romance tomes these days.

That was a good thing in Asharae’s eyes. It meant her brother was making an effort to relive the memories that were stolen from him and she had said many times that she would try to fill in gaps that he hadn’t written down. It also didn’t hurt that if he was reading through his journal then the romance tomes were being neglected and he wouldn’t talk to her about them.

Wren lifted his head to look at his sister, a small frown tugging at his mouth. “What other letter?”

“The one you put in your journal, who is that for?” Asharae nudged his pack with her foot.

Her brother glanced down at the pack then back at her and shrugged.

“Tis just notes I am keeping for myself, naught for you to worry about.”

Notes?

Notes about the wildlife of Vermund? Information they have gathers about the views on the Arisen in this land? Or was it about the curse?

If it was anything about those topics then why shouldn’t Asharae worry? They were all things that directly effected her brother, before they didn’t share every bit of information but that was when Wren’s brain wasn’t full of holes. All information was important, she didn’t get why he was being so secretive. “If there is naught to worry about then tell me.” She replied, her expression completely serious.

Wren stared at her for a moment then chuckled, suddenly he was reminded of various conversation when they were children and toddler Asharae would want to know what her older brother was doing with his friends. Of course, she couldn’t tag along with him then because she was just too young and Wren was... Hmmm... What was he doing with his friends at the time? He was still rather young so it wasn’t like he was hunting, maybe they were just playing too roughly for a toddler to be involved.

That made him laugh again. As if anything could be too rough for Asharae.

“Where you this intrusive before I lost my memories?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

...

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Asharae huffed, rolled her eyes and pointed at the pack again. “What was in your notes?”

“Naught for your to worry about.” Wren repeated all while wearing a smug smile. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying teasing her. His sister wasn’t sharing the same joy though.

Instead, Asharae snorted and slumped back against the cart barrier, crossing her arms over her chest and looking anywhere but at her brother. “Very well, don’t tell me. I shall add it to the list of growing secrets you keep.”

The wiped the smile off her brother’s father and even Nug flinched, going from leaning against the edge of the cart to watch the siblings over her shoulder. Her ears flattened slightly against her head and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, Asharae didn’t notice this but Wren did so he reached over and held her hand to ease her nerves then turned back to Asharae. “And what exactly is that suppose to mean?” He demanded.

Asharae turned to meet his stare.

“You came home with a broken nose and black eye.”

This again!

“I told you, I crossed paths with a drunkard. There was a case of mistaken identity, he believed I owed him gold and would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Things became physical and I learned that he had a bone breaking punch.” Wren lied, after that incident with Bermundo, it was pure luck that when he and Nug came home Asharae was in a deep sleep; it gave Wren the chance to clean himself up and dispose of his blood stained tunic. He drank a curative but it wasn’t fast acting enough to heal his bruises and the fix his broken nose so the following morning when they woke up and Asharae say the state he was in, she demanded answers. The is how the lie about running into a drunk came about and Wren dropped the matter completely. “The matter was handled, there is little reason to continue bringing it back up.”

Obviously, Asharae didn’t buy it.

She just kept staring at him, maybe part of her thought if she did it enough then he would confess it was a lie but the older elf was unmoved. Why was it where he lied to complete strangers, he would be torn up by the guilt but if he lied to her there wasn’t even a second thought about it?

“You swear it was a drunkard?”

“Yes. It was a drunkard.”

“And he was arrested?”

“I watched the sentinels carry him away myself.”

This was the best she was going to get from him.

At least while he was sober. While they were at Melve, maybe Asharae could convince her brother that they could spare a couple of hours at the tavern, lie and say that the ale would surely be cheaper there. Would it even be a lie? Surely village ale wasn’t as expensive as what you would find in the city. It it wasn’t then what was wrong with this kingdom?

She was getting ahead of herself, running her fingers through her hair, Asharae flopped back against the cart and groaned. “You should have punched him back.” She muttered.

Wren grinned back. “I did. I hit him so hard that it would have made you proud.”

He heard that small laugh.

The situation was resolved.

For now, at least.

While things might have been better between the siblings, Wren could see that Nug was still tense. She’s been tense since that day. Checking to see if Nug was okay was the only time he brought up Bermundo and whether she was copying his example or not, Nug would swiftly remind him that she couldn’t tell Asharae about what happened because he ordered her not to. That didn’t stop the female elf from trying to interrogate her though.

If it weren’t the order then she would have revealed all.

It made Wren feel like shit.

He never wanted to put his pawn in this position but there was nothing he could do to expect tell Asharae the truth. But if he did that then her paranoia would get worse, she already watched over her shoulder at every movement, Wren couldn’t imagine what she would be like if she found out he was stabbed because he let his guard down.

‘She deserves to know.’ Wren’s conscious reminded him and he agreed, she did deserve to know.

But not yet.

He would wait to see what Brant was able to extract from Bermundo, if he was able to discover the name of who hired the spy then having a target to direct Asharae’s fury at would be a huge outlet. The only challenge then would be convince her that they can’t just charge after whoever it was without a plan. Yes, that’s what he would do and he would tell Nug about about his plan when they got a moment alone, he hoped that would make the pawn feel a little better.

“RAAAGHHH!”

The sudden roar shook their very bones and startled the ox so much that it attempted to turn around and run away despite being still being harnessed to the cart, luckily the cart driver had good control over the beast. “Fie! Men, prepare yourselves!” One of the escorting guards ordered, drawing their weapons and preparing to face whatever let out that terrible sound. But what was it? There was no where for any large monster to hide on this exposed road and they were meters from Melve so where-

“It came from the village!” Nug shouted, vaulting out of the cart and preparing for a battle.

Asharae let out another groan but followed the pawn.

“Not again!”

Why was it every time they came to Melve there was always a calamity happening?

-

A second guttural roar echoed through the canyons of northern Vermund, causing the group to halt in their charge into the village and cover their ears. Not an ogre or griffin attack then.

Instead, they had to dive out of the way as a ball of fire came hurling towards them.

For a brief moment, Wren hoped it was a group of bandits and they happened across a spell that could mimic that ear piercing roar but those hopes were dashed just as quickly as they arrived when he lifted his up from the dirt and felt like he was back at the night he lost his heart.

There, hovering over the village square, was a drake.

But it did not resemble any of the other drakes that they narrowly escaped on their journey. This drake was a strange red colour, notably thinner than its green scaled cousins and it had these stomach turning growths on its body. Where they tumours? Boils? Was this drake infected with some form of sickness or plague? The way that it was drooling and then landed with a heavy thump, it then reared up on its back legs, let out a choking sound, like it was drowning then lurched forward and spewed up a large puddle of greenish brown fluid.

Even from here where they were on the ground, Wren could smell how foul it is.

The citizens of Melve fled from the beast, in a much more organized fashion than they did on the night of the dragon attack but the few able bodied fights like Ulrika and Ser Lennart were struggling against it. Avoiding flames were hard enough as well as its physical strength but now this fluid it was coughing up was practically a poison. “What the hells is wrong with that thing?!” Asharae was horrified at the sight, looking three shades paler.

“We can figure that out once we fell it! Keep away from its maw!” Wren shouted as he notched an explosive arrow and fired it at the strange drake’s head. The beast turned its head at the last moment and the burning arrow lodged itself in one of the pulsing growths, it was a wonder that it didn’t pop on impact but it was leaking more of that disgusting fluid.

Preparing a second arrow to trigger the explosive one, Wren was startled when a blast of blue tinted magick shot from the corner of his eye and hit the explosive arrow, setting it off and staggering the drake. ‘How…?!’ Did Asharae learn a new spell at some point and not tell him?

Even though his instincts screamed at him never to turn his back on something as dangerous as a drake, he had to know where the magick blast came from so turning around to see his sister wasn’t the source but a man. A man he had never seen before. He wasn’t wearing Vermundian armour either, it looked to be a combination of hardened leather and the finely made robes that a mage or sorcerer would wear. And the long spear in his hand gave away that the man was not a mage, not the healing type anyway, but the blue magick crackling around his fear hand gave away that he was the cause of the blast.

“Who-”

“Not now.” The man spoke.

His voice cause Wren’s mouth to snap shut, the way he commanded him… he must have experience giving orders. Perhaps he was a former captain or instructor?

“Focus your attacks on the boils and steer clear of the flames.”

Well, he didn’t need to be reminded of that last part.

Avoiding the end with sharp teeth and spewing flames was just basic survival knowledge but what Wren hadn’t expected was for himself, Asharae and Nug to be covered in a protective layer of magick. Again, it came from the mysterious drake expert.

Keeping the drake focused on them and its attention away from Ulrika and the other villagers who were trying to force it back but were just proving to be a hindrance was proving to be difficult. The drake’s movements were erratic and mindless as it thrash and tried to swipe at anyone that got too close. Ulrika was doing what she could to order them back but the panic was getting the better of them so Wren ordered Nug to act as a barrier between the villagers and the drake, which she did to the best of her ability.

Wren told Asharae to follow the spear wielder’s lead seeing as he appeared to know what he was doing compared to them but Asharae was reluctant to get near someone that was handling a ranged weapon as well as magic so she stuck to her own strategy of being a distraction and hoped that Wren had enough explosive arrows to blast this thing’s head off.

Leaping on it’s back and keeping a hold was much easier given the bumpy texture of the scales and spikes but when the drake tried to shake her off, Asharae’s first instinct was to stab her daggers into it to anchor herself. Unfortunately, one of those daggers went straight into one of the boils making it burst and splatter over Asharae. She let go then and returned backwards as the blood and whatever else that landed on her, it made her retch and her eyes burn.

With her now blurry vision, she didn’t see the drake’s tail swiping towards her until a hand grabbed her by the back of her cloak and yanked her out of its path.

“I told you to follow the spear wielder’s lead!” Her brother snapped. He wasn’t just furious that she did something so reckless, the female elf was always reckless in battle, but those cases weren’t against a drake that shouldn’t exist to begin with.

The rest of the battle was just as much of a struggle, they were not ready to take on a drake of any kind. Even one that didn’t have the power or intelligence, if it wasn’t for the assistance of the spear wielder then Wren was sure this drake would have left them as charred corpses and finished what the real dragon started in Melve. But every so often, they were fortunate. One final explosive arrow to it’s leaking chest and the drake began staggering left and right, trying to make a few last effort swipes and bites at the ones around it but it eventually fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

One last breath and its torso was still, just as quiet as everyone around it.

“Is… Is it dead?” Nug quietly asked, still holding her great sword in front of her just in case.

“Was it even alive to begin with?” Asharae countered, saying what her brother was also thinking.

Before Wren could get closer to the body to make sure that it was really dead, the sound of footsteps quickly approached him as Ulrika jogged to Wren’s side.

“I can hardly believe it... The beast is slain?” She breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the foul smelling corpse of the drake. It had only been dead for mere minutes and it already smelled like a pile of dead bodies that had been left to fester in the summer sun for weeks, how was that even possibly?

Was it the bile that it spewed up earlier?

Or those leaking boils?

Either way it brought up the urge to vomit, so much that Asharae covered her mouth and excused herself to move up wind of the body. Wren was going to join her before his breakfast made a return appearance when Ulrika turned to him, her disbelief had not shifted into pure admiration and something that Wren couldn’t pin point. He just chalked up her red face to being overwhelmed by the fight like he was. “Then you truly are the Arisen! Incredible...”

Usually, he would take on a more bashful stance, still not use to people calling him the Arisen so casually but the puddles of gunk surrounding them were forcing the bashful feeling back down. He managed to nod and carefully lead the young woman further away from the body. “Somehow, I knew you’d come...” Ulrika continued to praise and squeeze his hand a little, how was it that Wren always seemed to know when she was in need of his aid, she wondered. Was it because he the Arisen or could she dare hope it was fate?

And it wasn’t just the elf, not this time.

There was a new saviour.

Ulrika let go of the elf’s hand and approached the hooded man who was staring at the dead drake, his stance ready just in case it were to suddenly come back to life and who is to say that wouldn’t happen? That drake was completely bizarre, maybe it was a form of undead and they would have to crush it’s skull just to make sure that it was well and truly dead. “You have my gratitude as well, Ser.” Ulrika said in a polite, formal tone. Sounding more like a leader. It was still warm but it didn’t hold the same admiration that her voice did when she was speaking to Wren, not that he noticed.

The strange man gave her a subtle nod and left just like it was nothing, as though his involvement didn’t give them a massive advantage over the drake. If he hadn’t been here then Wren wasn’t sure they would have been able to kill it. Repel it, maybe if they were lucky but it would have killed a number of innocent people before they were able to force it away.

Ulrika’s sweet voice pulled Wren out of that depressing thought. “Arisen!”

Wren blinked and stared down at her.

“Y-Yes, my dear Ulrika?”

Her face turned a brighter shade of red at the pet name, if this kept happening then Wren was going to start thinking that a combination of drake fire and direct sunlight was an deal combination for heat stroke. “Seeing as you are here in the village, perchance, we could-”

“Ulrika!” Lennart called out, rushing over to the young woman and gently grabbing her by the shoulders and checking to see that she wasn’t hurt for the most part. The way he looked at her, it was like how a father would look at their child. “Glad I am to see you unharmed. You must return to village, everyone is concerned for you.”

There was a flash of disappointment on Ulrika’s face, for a brief moment she completely forgot that she would have to check in with the villagers to make sure that no one was seriously harmed and there was no further damage to homes. She nodded, her smile looking a bit more forced now. “Yes, of course. I shall return swiftly but first...” Ulrika gave Wren an earnest look. “Forgive me. I’d best go... but I shan’t forget this.”

“No need to apologies, my dear. We all have duties we must attend.”

At least, he understood. That caused a spark of happiness to burst in her chest. “Thank you, truly.” She whispered then headed further into the village with Lennart and other villagers following after her, Wren could hear them rapidly informing her about the current start of everything. He wanted to help and maybe he would when he had a free moment but right now they had a shipment to deliver. Speaking of which, he could see Asharae and Nug stopping over to him, neither of them looked happy as they tried to sweep ash, pieces of rotting drake flesh and that gunk from their clothes.

“This village is cursed!” Asharae swore, even Nug nodded in agreement.

Wren tried to argue, to say that everywhere the atmosphere was tense and people were questioning their very futures but was struggling to find the correct words. “Now, that is a bit of a stretch, sister. A village cannot be-”

Asharae stared at him.

“Fine. Tis cursed.”

It did feel very strange that all these attacks were only happening to places like Melve and the Harve, fishing village, while Vermund stood as grand as ever. Minus the occasional goblin raid and wandering cyclops, maybe the difference between Vernworth and the other villages was that number of sentinels that were patrolling around it. It was a bit of an insult when they remember that the encampment that was a twenty minute walk away demanded any able bodied fighter leave Melve to join their ranks for the sake of defending against the dragon should it show up.

Funny, they didn’t show their faces during the first attack.

And there was no sign of help during this attack either, where was the so called protection?

Thank the gods, Wren and Asharae were delivering these weapons to Beren, if the beastren was true to his word then with new weapons and motivated recruits, he would start taking patrols around the area around Melve to keep the village safe. All they had to do was-

Wait!

The weapons crate was left on the ox cart when they ran to confront the drake!

“Ah! Nug! Go and get that weapon shipment from the ox cart before they take it back to Vernworth!” Wren quickly ordered, pointing in the direction of the village gates. They were not going to spend the night chasing after the cart only to then heaving the crate all the way back in the dark. Wouldn’t that just be the cherry on top of the burnt cake that was today if they had to do that? Asharae stepped closer and nudged her brother’s side with her elbow. “What now? Taking on an army of goblins? Single handedly plowing a field? Cutting down the trees to make land space for said farm?”

“Hmmm? Pardon?”

“Each time we come to Melve, you volunteer us for a collection of mundane tasks that we ne’er get paid for.”

“They allow us to stay at the inn for free and give us a meal.”

“We can do that in the forest with our camping supplies.” Asharae retorted. “The food would be better too...”

Okay, Wren would let that slide because as well as being an insult to the innkeeper’s cooking, it was also a compliment of Wren’s skills. Keeping Asharae’s stomach full was the best motivation for her, if he knew how to make ale then she would never complain again.

“Take a deep breath and relax that pulsing vein on your forehead before it bursts like one of those drake growths.” Both siblings gagged as they spared another glance at the drake and the popped boils, they were going to have to push that things body over the near by cliff and into the Brine, weren’t they? “Ulrika was merely thanking us for our efforts in fighting that- that and I told her that were have other matters to attend to, namely delivering that shipment.” They should really check on Nug. Eh, she was probably fine.

“If you haven’t signed us up for another selfless task then what do we do?” Asharae asked with her hands on her hips and staring up at her brother, she fully expected him to say they were going be doing something here and go straight to Beren tomorrow. If that wasn’t the case then what?

Wren had been pondering that question too.

And looking at the state of them, they couldn’t go to Beren looking like they had just slow roasted over a fire while smelling of smoke and rotting drake guts. It just felt disrespectful for someone that had been nothing but kind to them. Turning his gaze to the sky, it wasn’t like it was getting late in the day, if they started moving now they could make it to Beren’s camp by sunset but while they were able to kill the drake and be relatively unharmed. It took a large bite out of their energy.

Just one night wouldn’t hurt...

“We stay at the inn for the night and wash the stench from our clothes in the river.”

“Wait? Really?” Asharae asked in disbelief, she didn’t appear mad with this suggestion.

Wren nodded. “Really.”

Finally!

An idea that Asharae could get behind.

“I believe you are starting to get your mind back, brother dearest. Go rent us some beds, I will help Nug.” She was offering to carry the crate of weapons? This must have really lifted her mood. “Tis a good thing we dealt with those saurians, we will be able to wash without the fear of ambush, eh?”

Wren growled at the mention of the saurian nest they cleared out. Asharae knew he felt like shit for doing that, why did she bring it up again?

“Go help Nug.” He ordered again, Asharae rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“Bleeding heart!” She teased then ran off.

‘Better a bleeding heart than no heart.’

-

“Unusual red pigment, softer scales… rancid smell of rot and death, puss filled growths that are not a common sight on a drake and vomits up what I hope is just bile...” And, gods, did he hope it would wash out.

Wren was perched on the sealed well, his lantern sitting next to him and casting the only source of light as he wrote down his observations of this… could it even be called a drake? Despite what Ulrika and Lennart said earlier, it wasn’t a dragon either. Much too small. But it didn’t feel like a drake either.

The Arisen had spent the last three hours carefully examining every detail of the beast, granted he had to step back after being too close to the body for too long, the smell of decay coming off it was overwhelming and being too close was going to make violently sick. It was so bad he could practically taste it in the back of his throat. The remaining boils had popped at some point too without stimulus, Wren was unfortunate enough to witness it and he had to take ten minutes to compose himself, how was this worse that fighting living corpses, a disgusting ogre and being smothered by an ooze all at the same time?

But he had to do this.

Wren had to get down an accurate sketch and write down all the information he could while the fight itself was still fresh in his mind as well examining the body before it disintegrated into nothing but a pile of bones. And that was the alarming thing, the rate this drake was rotting away was much too fast.

It had to be magick related, it was the only reason.

Even reanimated corpses didn’t decay this quickly.

“Decays at an unusually fast rate.” He quickly wrote down then flipped his journal over so it could lie open but face down on the well, just so he wouldn’t loose his place. ‘Tis now or ne’er.’ Taking another deep breath, Wren hopped off the well, headed back over to the body and couched down at the chest so he could get a much better look at the hollow in it’s chest. Examining wounds was not unusual for Wren but this was not a hole caused by a weapon, it was sunken, a greenish brown fluid was still leaking out of it and the edges curled inward like there had been nothing in the drake’s chest to begin with. There weren’t even tendons or valves visible to suggest a heart was once connected.

Wren was starting to feel sick and it wasn’t the smell causing it.

He reached up to his own chest, almost touching the area over his own scar but stopped himself.

It wasn’t the same.

He was not like this monster.

Wren’s heart was taken by force.

This drake, this thing, all evidence pointed to it never having a heart to begin with. It was an abomination, everything about it went against nature and Wren should curse it’s very existence.

‘Then why do I feel sympathy for you?’ He wondered.

“You feel it.”

“Huh?”

Pulled from his trance like state, Wren whipped around and saw the spear wielding man that aided them in taking down the strange drake. He was certainly a figure that demanded attention and not for vanity reasons, there were many kinds of people that Wren has encountered in Vermund but seeing a warrior who wielded a doubled ended spear was a rare sight. And someone who ran head first into a battle with a drake that was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, and going by his own experience, Wren felt it was stupid.

Still the man continued to speak.

“You feel the connection with this drake, or rather, the lack of connection we would usually feel with these beasts.”

We?

Then it hit Wren.

“You are an Arisen.” He whispered in disbelief.

The man nodded. “I am Sigurd. Tis most fortunate to cross paths with another Arisen.” It certainly was, for two Arisen to encounter each other. It was extremely rare, should an Arisen be unable to face their dragon they would never been seen again. Most assumed they had either been killed or ran away in shame, that was the case in most kingdoms but this was Vermund, the kingdom that made the Arisen their leader... so why wasn’t Sigurd the current Sovran?

“How-” Wren began but cut himself off when Sigurd walked past him and approached the drake. The other Arisen removed the spear from his back and used the blade to inspect the gapping hole where the heart was meant to be, when the blade cut into the rotting flesh it made more of the brown liquid drip out. Still disgusting even with this extra distance but what was Sigurd looking for? Wren had already inspected it for a heart, there was none.

He had to lean to the side to try and see the other man’s face, that hood was doing a very good job of hiding his expression but Wren knew a sneer of disgust when he finally saw it. “Another one of these...” Sigurd muttered under his breath.

‘Another...?’ Did that mean there were more of these strange drakes in Vermund?

With a flick of the spear, the fluid splattered off on to the ground, Sigurd returned it to his back and faced the curious elf. “You show promise and your pawn appears to be capable, perchance, you will be more fortunate that I was. Hone your existing skills and do not be afraid to expand your horizons, you will need any aid you can get if you hope to retrieve your heart.” He stated in a flat tone but there was a note of something hidden there, was it hope? No, any hope this man had had long since burned out. All that was left was a sense of duty. “Take care, current Arisen. I pray your path is more prosperous than mine.” Sigurd then walked past the elf and headed towards the village gate.

Wait! He couldn’t just leave like that!

“Pray, wait! I have questions!” Wren called out, trying to follow after Sigurd.

Wren had so many questions!

He knew from reading his journal that he had never met a former Arisen before coming to Vermund, he had met companions and even a couple of family members but never one in person. Before he would have leapt at the chance to pry information about the role of the Arisen from one and what their experience was like when they first encountered the dragon and what it was like to see t in person, he didn’t have to ask those questions now but being now that he was an Arisen, Wren had a list of different questions.

How had it affected Sigurd’s life?

Was he able to confront the dragon and reclaim his heart?

Where was his pawn and why was he travelling alone?

And most importantly, how had he avoided becoming Sovran?

The captain said that they hadn’t had a Sovran on the throne for generations but if that was the case then why hadn’t Sigurd been tracked down and forced into the role much like Wren was? Did Disa know about him? Maybe she was able to make Sigurd stay away from Vernworth so Brant or anyone else couldn’t find him. No, that didn’t sound like the Queen Regent that Wren encountered, she chose selling him into slavery before offering a bribe.

Before Wren could ask any of this, Sigurd held up his hand and the elf’s mouth snapped shut. They stared at each other for a few tense moments, Wren could feel the sweat building up on his brow from anxiety.

“Our paths will cross again if fate allows it.”

“But-”

“Be patient, current Arisen. The need to rush forward will only lead to death.”

Wren sighed and nodded. Sigurd was right, he might not like it but he had to be patient and if fate wanted it, it would lead them to meet again. He really hoped they would see each other again, the guidance of a former Arisen, that kind of information was more valuable than gold. And seeing that Sigurd was still alive and fighting, Wren want to be like that in the future. Alive and back home with the people he cared about.

Speaking of which, he should get back to the inn before Asharae and Nug began to worry.

He needed to sleep on Sigurd’s words, this day was a lot to take in.

-

The brief conversation with Sigurd stuck with Wren thought out the night, making it hard to get a restful sleep. Just a night of tossing, turning and constantly trying to adjust his pillow to get comfortable but nothing worked, Asharae said there was a sleeping brew in her bag if he couldn’t stop fidgeting. He was tempted to take it but didn’t.

He tried to push everything with the drake and Sigurd to the back of his mind while he was in the company of Beren. He should be happy right now.

They were finally able to deliver those much needed weapons and from the looks of it, Humphery was showing great promise. There was a new found spark in the boy’s eyes, there had already been a fiery ambition when they first met but now that he was under Beren’s wing, he finally had someone to help direct that energy into something useful. When Wren, Asharae and Nug arrive in the moonglow filled meadow, there were even more of the blue flowers than on their first visit, they were greeted with sight of Humphery aggressively swinging his sword at a training dummy. Splinters of wood and straw flying everywhere and the boy’s brow wrinkled in concentration.

“No, no, no! Focus your blows.” Beren’s deep cut into Humphery’s frantic attacks, making the boy stop and turn to his mentor. Wren struggled to hide the shiver of lust that shot through his body at the voice, he wouldn’t mind being on the receiving end of it under different circumstances. “You are so focused on causing as damage as possible that you are leaving yourself open to harm.” He scolded and Humphery’s shoulders slumped in shame, his head bowed forward.

“Forgive me, Ser...” The boy muttered. He sniffed then lifted his head, squared him shoulders and stood proudly. “I shall try hard and work on covering my weakness.”

Even from this distance, Wren and Asharae could see the proud smile that appeared on Beren’s face.

“Good lad. Now, take up position and remember your basic training.”

“Yes, Ser!” Humphery shouted and saluted. He turned back to the training, holding the blunt sword in both hands, a bit strange seeing as it was a basic fighter sword. Beren really was taking him back to basic training if they were focusing on the lad’s stance instead of going out and fighting against actual monsters. “Keep your weight centered, feet firmly on the ground or even the weakest goblin will knock you off balance. Ne’er underestimate- Oh, it appears we have an audience.”

“Hoy! Not interrupting, are we?” Wren called out, his mood was instantly as he waved at the two, Nug copying his actions while Asharae gave a friendly nod. They carefully put the shipment on the ground while avoiding crushing any of the moonglow, with nothing in their arms, Wren jogged up to Beren and was fully expecting to greet the man with a firm handshake but was instead brought into a bear hug. Beren’s thick arms practically consuming him and his senses filled with a natural musk and moonglow pollen, was that from the flowers or Beren himself?

Either way, Wren liked it.

“I am glad to see you in good health, my friend!” Beren laughed, his large hand thumped on the elf’s back but there was a good bit of force behind it that it caused the air to knock the air out of Wren’s lungs. ‘Not like I need those lungs to breathe! Or my ribs in tact...’

“The feeling is mutual, my dear.” Wren responded, taking a small step back. With his own height, he was able to see over the warrior’s shoulder to see Humphery approaching. His head held high and trying to imitate his mentor’s posture. “’Tis wonderful to see you too, Humphery. I trust you are pleased with Ser Beren’s guidance?”

“More than pleased, Ser Wren. None of those cravens in the city could dream to match his level of skill!”

Beren cleared his throat at that and gave his student a disapproving stare that made Humphery instantly turn more self conscious. “A-Apologizes, Ser. I meant no harm with my words...” The boy stammered, realize he stepped out of line.

“Vernworth may have issues with its command at the moment but it created some of the finest warriors to ever wield a blade. They deserve respect. Now aid Ser Nug in unloading these weapons. Tomorrow will begin your training with various weapons.” At those words, there was a new spring in Humphery’s step. He might speak without thinking about it first but he really was the perfect student for the beastren with all the ambition, the boy gave a straight backed salute then headed over to the crate with Nug following behind him.

Wren glanced over at Asharae, and even she was smiling at the sight, they were both happy that Humphery was getting what he wanted. “He’s an eager one.” He commented, turning back to Beren. The pride on the other man’s face was as clear as day, it was a stark contrast compare to the worn down and frustrated expression he wore when they first met. Beren’s smile only grew at the observation. “I’ve you to thank for that new recruit, aye?”

The siblings exchanged a look and shrugged. Humphery was the one that approached them and practically begged for Wren to become his mentor, Asharae still laughed at the memory.

“The lad’s well eager, he is. He fears naught, and follows my commands with nary a word of complaint.” No fear, eh? That sounded like the same boy they met on Vernworth, you had to have a lot of courage to approach a small group of strangers after watching them take down a rampaging cyclops them ask them to become their mentor. The lack of fear was a lingering worry for Wren, that characteristic could lead to deadly consequences but it appeared that Humphery’s ego wasn’t as inflated as Wren fear it might be, that was a common trait young recruits had, but Beren clearly had things under control. “Soldiers like him boost the morale of all around them. His presence bodes well, and I’ve you to thank for it.”

“No need for thanks, we are glad that you are both happy with the arrangement.”

There was that other lingering worry that Beren and Humphery’s personalities would clash.

“There’s just one problem.” Beren continued, reach up to scratch his beard.

Oh dear, spoke too soon.

“Seeing a lad so spirited, so foolhardy, makes me recall a time when I was much the same.”

Wren could just imagine that.

A young, less battle worn Beren. No beard but he probably still had that man of thick hair, it was probably more wild that it was now. He must had been a tall young but Wren struggle to imagine him skinny, Beren struck him as the type that put a lot of physical in everything he did; strong of body and mind, sounds a lot like Asharae. His sister now, that is, Wren still didn’t remember enough about their childhood personally to know if Asharae was just as fiery then as she is now. She must have been, there was no way that the younger elf could have been a quiet and timid child.

Was Wren like that when he was child?

Spirited, maybe, but he didn’t know if he was fearless? He must had been a little brave given his fondness of monsters, people didn’t take the time to seek them out and study them if they feared for their own lives.

Wren smiled fondly regardless, there was time to get those memories back. “I can just imagine you as a young recruit, eager for your first battle against a chimera or ogre.” He teased and Beren let out a deep laugh. There was that spike of lust again, that low voice did so many things to Wren.

“Aye, I thought I knew everything in those days. The folly of youth, eh? Still...”

He looked conflicted. Like something was buzzing around in his mind, past regrets maybe? Everyone had regrets from when they were young, whether it was stupid choices made because they couldn’t let go of their pride or even foolish actions made when drunk. It was the one thing everyone could bond over but Wren wasn’t going to push Beren to open up, the beastren didn’t seem to be willing to talk about his life as a young recruit and it was none of Wren’s business.

Beren’s clawed hand came up and lightly stroked his jaw, fingers running through the short but thick beard that he had as he glanced over at Humphery and Nug. Wren hoped that Nug wasn’t pestering the boy too much with her questions, he and Asharae were use to them but she could be a little overbearing for anyone that didn’t know her.

Thankfully, it appeared that Humphery was enjoying her attention how his bold gestures, the confident look on his face and Nug’s wide eyed stare was anything to go by.

Beren chuckled and shook his head. “Seeing his fighting spirit. It sets my blood to boiling, you see. Make me yearn for a bout with a skilled combatant.”

Why was he looking at Wren like he was a piece of meat?

And why was Asharae giving him a knowing lo-

Oh!

Wren’s face turned red, he tried to convince himself it was because of the heat on cloudy day when their was a breezy blowing through the meadow; he couldn’t look at either his sister or his friend. Surely, Beren wasn’t implying that, right?

“I-I see...”

“Need I explain further?” Beren grinned, his sharp teeth on display as he took a step closer. “I’d test my steel against yours, friend.” Wren felt like he was going to melt.

“N-No, I understood that. I merely-” ‘I can’t fight you, even in a friendly spar because I know how my body will react.’ Gods, it had been so long since he had known the touch of another person and Wren was pretty sure that he would combust if he ended up being pinned to the ground beneath the strong beastren. He had to think of a way to get out of this without offending the other man, once Wren had found a release for his other frustrations, he would be more than happy to spar but right now it was impossible. Finding the right words to explain himself was proving to be impossible too.

“My friend, I mean no offence but I- What I mean to say is-”

“What my tongue tied brother is trying to current affliction, he has forget most of his training with a sword and does not want to appear rude by sparring with you when he is not at his best.” Asharae cut in.

Was that true?!

Did Wren know how to wield a sword before the curse?

“Forgive me, friend. Your affliction escaped my mind and I didn’t factor in that it would effect you in such a way. My apologizes.”

“There is naught to apologies for, my friend. There is still much I am relearning about myself, were the circumstance better, I would happily accept your offer to test out steel.”

“Why not indulge in a hand-to-hand sparring session then?” Asharae suggested

“A… hand-to-hand...”

That was worse than using weapons!

So much more close and intimate, he would be able to feel the heat of Beren’s body against his. The heavy panting, the sweat rolling off their bodies, muscles rippling and flexing beneath that layer of fur. Oh gods, this is what would kill Wren. Not the dragon, not Disa or whoever else was tailing after him; he was going to die from lust and his sister was the one who helped killed him. It would go down in history as the most embarrassing death of any Arisen that ever existed.

“That sounds like a wonderful suggestion! What say you, friend?”

Asharae and Beren turned to him, both expecting an answer but Asharae was looking very smug about the position she had put her older brother in if that smirk was anything to go by

“How can I refuse?”

Seriously, someone! Anyone tell him how he can say ‘no’!

Wearing a grin that rivalled a beastren that got the newt liquor, Asharae looked between the two and turned to walk away. “Now that this is settled, I will excuse myself to lend a hand to Nug and Humphery before one of them pokes their eye out trying to show off.” She announced, walking away before Wren could throw a rock at her smug face. Why did she do this?! Was this her trying to help or trying to make him squirm? Because he really didn’t know how to react to any of this!

The clink of metal and buckles snapped Wren out of his internal melt down, his head whipped to see Beren unbuckling his armour and removing it. “W-Wha- I thought we were going to spar?” The elf stammered, he could hear Asharae snickering from the other side of the meadow. Beren must have seen how close he was to breaking if that amused expression was anything to go by; were his pupils dilated or was Wren hallucinating from the repressed lust? “We are. T’would be unfair for me to be fully protected while you are in a more vulnerable stare.” Beren replied, motioning to Wren’s lack of metal armour and nothing else he might be implying. “We must make this fair.”

With shaky hands, Wren began to undo the buckles of his quiver and bow holster then his cape seeing as there was no way to try and talk his way out of this. But it was going to be a fair fight, right?

“Y-Yes, we must make it fair...” He agreed.

Beren was going to crush him into the ground.

-

Wren was versed in hand to hand combat, that wasn’t a lie.

Not long after they settled in their small home in Vernworth, Asharae woke him up as the sun was barely rising and told him to meet her outside the city gates. There was no time for Wren to make quick meal. He thought it must have been urgent, relating to the dragon or Disa but once he was dressed and outside the gates, Asharae tried to punch him in the face.

It was only by pure luck that he was able to leap backwards before Asharae’s fist could collide with his jaw.

He had to bark out a rushed order to stop Nug from tackling Asharae and demanded answers.

Her answer was training. Just like with Beren now.

Wren was tempted to say ‘no’, take Nug home and start making their breakfast but how could turn this down? It was needed. At the time, Wren agreed to begin these sparring sessions but he thought she was being overly cautious, he believed that with their combined skilled the chances of someone getting the drop on them was highly unlikely. Until he was stabbed by Bermundo. If Asharae noticed him taking not only their sparring sessions more seriously but even maintenance of their weapons and gear, she never mentioned it. She must have just been happy that he was actually looking over his shoulder now.

So he wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to weaponless combat, he had the strength to back up those punches.

What Wren had in physical strength, Asharae more than made up for in speed and dirty tricks. There was a time in his youth that he would be against using underhanded tactics in combat but that was before he had a knife sticking out of his ribs, now Wren wasn’t above throwing dirt in someone’s eyes or delivering a swift kick to the crotch. If it kept him alive then he would do it.

Should the same logic should apply to him and Beren, right? Wren was only a little shorter than the warrior but he was leaner and quicker on his feet, what he underestimated was the sheer power behind Beren’s punches. He knocked the wind out of the elf with a direct punch to the gut. If he wasn’t the Arisen, Wren would have been terrified that it ruptured one of his organs, it hurt so much!

He was able to avoid most punches but the ones that were landing were staggering him and it felt like his own punches were little more than a tickle to Beren, he was taking them like a true warrior.

Another punch was thrown at Wren’s head, he narrowly avoided it.

Then another and another.

There was an opening!

His only chance to get the larger man off his front and put some space between them, Wren tried to deliver a hit to the side of Beren’s head but it turns out the beastren had faster reflexes than he anticipated. Beren grabbed his arm in an iron grip and in what felt like the blink of an eye, Wren was twisted around so his back was pressed against Beren’s front and one of the warrior’s thick arms was wrapped around his neck and squeezing tightly. Any attempts to kick back or hook his leg around one of Beren’s to try and throw off the other man’s balance were futile, instead Wren was slowly pressed down onto his knees all while he felt the weight of the beastren got heavier and heavier on his back.

What should he do now?

His vision was starting to blur and darken around the edges as it became harder and harder to breath with each passing second, Beren’s arm had such a tight grip. Wren’s first instinct was to bite down on the beastren’s arm or hand, hard enough that even his blunt elven teeth would be able to draw blood but that would be going too far, right?

In a normal sparring session, Wren would hold back.

He wouldn’t cause serious harm and he certainly wouldn’t draw blood.

But Beren made it clear that he didn’t want either of them to hold back their punches, he wanted to see what Wren was capable of. If he really meant it then… Wren would get on his knees and apologize profusely later if he read this situation wrong.

With one arm hold support his weight and the bulky warrior that was pressing down on his back, Wren’s other hand quickly reached back and buried his fingers deep into Beren’s hair. Someone above must have decided to have mercy on him because Beren’s blessing of thick hair was Wren’s out, he wound his fingers to the roots and wrenched the other man’s head forward so grip loosened slightly and Wren was able to sink his teeth into the other man’s cheek. “Graaah! You little-!” Beren swore but was cut off by an upper cut to the jaw.

In the chaos, Wren was able to twist his way out of the stunned warrior’s hold. Turn his body and deliver a hard kick to Beren’s chest, forcing him back.

But he underestimated the sturdiness of a warrior, Beren grabbed his leg before the elf could scramble away and was dragged back towards the beastren until they were chest-to-chest again. Two large hands pinned his arms above his head and a broad body between his legs stopping Wren from trying to kick his way out of submission again. Having Beren bearing down on him like this, like a chimera ready to devour him.

“Do you yield?”

Gods, the things that voice did to the elf…

Wren could no longer tell if his heavy breathing was his exhaustion from being knocked around or having the broader man bearing down on him like this. The vulnerability he was feeling, it was intoxicating.

“I yield.” Wren admitted.

He had to bite back a whine of disappointment when Beren released his arms and sat back, his body still between the elf’s legs, the temptation to wrap his legs around Beren’s waist was really hanging over Wren’s head. The pair stared at each other for a moment, their chests heaving and gaze firmly fixed on each other. Beren’s honey brown eyes flicked down to the deep v of Wren’s tunic, lingered there from a moment before returning to the elf’s flushed face; was that lust of him taken a chance to stare at the Arisen scar while he could?

Wren didn’t have the energy to ask when warrior flopped down on the moonglow so he and Wren were now lying side by side.

“I daresay I needed that. You’ve my thanks.” Beren panted.

Wren couldn’t help but stare at the beastren as he tried to catch his own breath, he was stunning. It was no wonder that he felt this attraction to the other man, were it not for his sister, Nug and Humphery being so close then Wren would have made a move and kissed Beren. It would have been in the heat of the moment and had it not been for the kiss they shared when they met, Wren would have shoved down his feelings entirely and never brought it up again. But now…

“No need to thank me. T’was needed on both sides.” He replied with a wave of his hand and turned his gaze back up to the sky.

An easy silence feel between them, just the distant sounds of their companions moving around the camp and the gentle breeze blowing though the mountains, making the moonglow to sway in an almost hypnotic way. They had a sweet scent to them, it wasn’t over powering. In fact, the smell of the flowers was making Wren a little sleepy, did moonglow have sleeping properties to them?

Asharae would know, he would ask her later. She’s been experimenting a lot with the seeds and cutting that Beren gave her on their first meeting.

“I’ve ne’er met anyone like you.” Beren suddenly spoke, his voice was low but the affection was clear. Wren tilted his head to look back at him, Beren was still staring up at sky and smiling. He look so… serene, relaxed. A far cry from the tense and aggravated man they first met. “You’ve done more for me this past while than anyone I’ve known has e’er troubled to.”

“T’was no trouble at all.” Asharae would disagree. “I gave you my word and I always keep my promises.”

“A commendable sort, you are. Would that I had some way to repay you for all the good you’ve done me.”

“No repayment required, you do more than enough. Training recruits like Humphery, it will do more good that I could e’er manage.” It was a funny idea when he actually sat down and thought about it, Wren was didn’t know the first thing about teaching an aspiring soldier. It wasn’t like giving tips to Glyndwr, a man who already knew the in’s and out’s or archery but was just lacking the self confidence. Being a mentor was just so much… more. Just another reminder to Wren of he didn’t want to be Sovran, he wasn’t cut out for it.

“Hmmm, regardless, I owe you a debt and I fully intend to repay you.” Beren hummed.

Wren could see that there was no changing the other man’s mind on this, that was fine. He couldn’t think of any favour he would want from Beren, besides letting them stay at his camp and allowing Asharae to take a couple more clipping from his moonglow garden. When they returned back to their true home over the mountains, if there weren’t any moonglow there then Asharae could harvest some seeds and they could take this piece of Vermund back with them. Sure, his sister wanted to forget this place the moment they were finally able to leave but Wren didn’t want to forget anything ever again. He would take the good and the bad.

“My apologizes for taking so long to bring these weapons, I briefly considered having them sent with an ox cart but the raids on carts have become so common I feared they would not reach you.”

“Ah, they got here and that’s the important thing, my friend. Now tell me what has been happening with you, Humphery informed me of the cyclops fight that lead to you meeting, I would very much enjoy hearing that tale!”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise the boy told him about how they met, it was an eentful day, after all. “The glory lies with my sister, she dealt the finishing blow.” Asharae deserved more credit. At first, Wren could pretend he was okay with getting all the praise for each monster they felled and bandit they brought to justice but now he couldn’t ignore how people would sing his praises and willingly turn a blind eye to not only his sister but brave Nug too. If it weren’t for them and the ‘blessing’ of Arisen psudeo-immortality then Wren would be dead a long time ago, eat by a cyclops or ripped apart by a group of hobgoblins.

Asharae might not enjoy the company of large groups but buying her a mug of ale went a long way in making her smile. Sure, there would be a sarcastic comment and even light suspicion that her drink had been poisoned but once that passed, she was always grateful.

And a few kind words went far with Nug. She just wanted to make Wren and Asharae proud, and fishing. Fishing was always fun for her.

Wren would have to think of a way so they started getting the credit too. An Arisen was nothing without their new-to-the-world pawn and snarky younger sister.

An easy silence fell between the elf and beastren as they turned their gaze back to the sky, they were still so close that Wren could feel the fur of Beren’s arm and it made him smile. There was a slight coarseness to it but it wasn’t unpleasant or prickly, Wren wanted to reach over and run his fingers through it but that would be a little inappropriate given how he was feeling. Thankfully, he was distracted from his lustful thoughts by approaching footsteps.

At first Wren thought it might be Nug but they were much too light and Asharae was far more quiet in her movements, so that left-

“Ser Beren!”

Ah, yes, young Humphery.

The young man looked a little disheveled, had unpacking the weapons really taken that much of a toll on him? Or maybe Asharae had been trying to goad him into their own sparring session. No, she wouldn’t do that. Asharae could be a little fire ball in her own rights and was the first to throw a punch if she was insulted but she knew what happened when you were the only to attack a human, it never looked good. And even though Humphery was an aspiring warrior, she wouldn’t taunt an inexperienced fighter. That just wasn’t fair.

“Beg pardon, Ser Beren, but I would like to request that Ser Wren and Ser Asharae stay.” Humphery said. It was moments like this that showed the lad was training to be a soldier, he sounded so proper when asking for anything.

“Is that so?” Beren mused, smiling at the lad’s boldness.

The lad nodded. “Yes, Ser. I want them to see how much I have improved under your teaching.”

So eager to please, it was admirable and a little cute.

Beren must have thought so too by the way he was chuckling, he turned back to Wren and asked. “Well? Would you be willing to cut into your busy Arisen schedule for one night?”

Just another request that Wren couldn’t turn down.

Not that he wanted to, he liked spending time with the beastren.

-

Now cooking is what Wren did best.

Saying ‘no’ to people? Eh, he wasn’t good at that but he was very good at making everything at his disposable and ensuring that nothing went to waste that way everyone went to bed with full bellies, he could sit down and let his aching body rest too while watching everything else around him. While stirring the venison stew, Wren glanced over to see what the everyone else was doing.

Beren had gone back to training Humphery like he had just had an intense sparring session with Wren, back to wearing his full armour and not holding back at all. It was admirable but it also made Wren question his own stamina, he was exhausted but here was Beren with the strength and energy to swing a great sword that was bigger than Humphery like it was nothing. He might have to arrange more training sessions with Asharae because this was not a good sign for his fighting capability.

Maybe if he could talk to captain Brant about training with him too, the man was nearly the same size as Beren and being able to fight and possibly take down men of their size.

He wasn’t the only one that was interested in watching the warriors train, Nug was too.

She had been loitering around when Beren was running Humphery through basic drills, Asharae had to guide the pawn away when she was getting too close and tried to get her interested in their own training session. Nug, of course, accepted the offer but even from where he was sitting Wren could tell that his pawn was more interested in what their companions were doing. Wren felt bad that she couldn’t join, while serving up dinner, he thought about how they could have more warrior focused training for Nug. Perhaps that was something else he could ask captain Brant about.

Once the scent of a freshly meal reached the extended group, any and all training was forgotten, weapons were dropped and everyone was ready to settle for the night and just indulge in some friendly banter. Beren was very vocally, praising Humphery for his progress and how he would be the envy of many a recruit in the encampment. The entire time Humphery was practically glow from his words but Beren wasn’t ignorant, he wanted to know what the brother and sister were up to as well and how the Arisen duties were going. Of course, Wren and Asharae had to mention the recent attack on Melve. It would be an injustice to not spread the word but there was another purpose for mentioning this, it helped Wren and Asharae gather information on how wide spread these attacks was and so far, they were disappointed with the results. Disappointed but not surprised at this point.

“A second dragon attack on Melve?” Beren sighed and shook his head. “Those poor people, is there no mercy left in the world?”

Another person who couldn’t tell the difference between a drake and the actual dragon.

Perhaps that was because the dragon was a much rarer sight. For a creature with such a terrifying size, it was very good at keeping itself hidden

“T’wasn’t as devastating as the first attack but... Tis becoming harder and harder to remain hopeful when you see these victims lose what little they had left after the first attack.”

The mood became more heavy after that, not quite depressing but they weren’t as carefree anymore. He wouldn’t say it out loud but Wren felt a weight lift off his shoulders when Beren didn’t say ‘Things will change once you claim the throne’, he had heard that from so many people and captain Brant, and while Wren did want to use what limited Sovran power he had to makes things better in this kingdom, he had no intention of staying here for the rest of his life. He wanted to go home.

With a fresh supply of weapons at his disposal, Beren reminded the elves of his part of the deal. From now on he and an eager Humphery would start their patrol on the road between Melve and the way castle, they could keep that area safe but everything past the way castle would need more soldiers. That would take more time and more training and motivated soldiers that were assigned to keeping the monster population down instead of hiding behind the encampment walls.

Asharae weighed in at this point, saying that everything between the way castle and Vernworth was a hazard.

The roads were filled with not only the usual goblins and harpies but there was an increase in the ogre population and cyclops weren’t staying in the forest like they normally would, she was fairly sure she heard the tell tale roar of a drake at one point too but there was no evidence to support that so hopefully that was her imagination. Beren wasn’t deterred in the slightest, he met Asharae’s warning with a confident grin.

He has been wanting a real challenge long since he came to Vermund.

Any beast that wanted to take him on was welcome to try.

After that, things became easier.

The sun had set, dinner was eaten, their tents were set up and they retired one by one to their bedrolls until only Wren and Beren were the only ones left sitting beside each other in front of the still burning fire. They should go to bed but when Wren made a few passing comments about the people of Melve and how he wished he could make sure they were safe it reminded Beren of three more residents in the mountain that were far more isolated than the people of Melve.

“Not far from here, should you keep following the path north then you should stumble across the hut of an elderly couple and a small child. I rarely see them leave that area but I try and scout that area just to ensure they are safe.” He explained while pointing down at the map that Wren had taken from his sister’s pack, he would return it before retiring for the night but looking down at it, he was only just realizing how remote Melve and the encampment was from Vernworth. For a place that was meant to be a primary defense against the dragon should just have more... just more?

“Tis very honourable of you.” Wren replied.

“I would not be able to live with myself if I did not do all in my capability to protect vulnerable people.”

“Could you show me on a map where this hut is? I would like visit them and see if there is aught I can do to help them.”

“I can escort you there.”

“That- I would be very grateful for that. You have my thanks.”

Beren smiled back at the stammering elf, he must enjoy that he was able to get these kinds of responses from the other man otherwise why did he keep doing it? “We can leave for their home now if you wish, the elderly residents are somewhat night owls. We would not be disturbing their rest in the slightest.” Beren continued, standing up, fully expecting them to just venture off into the wilds together.

Glancing back at the tents, Wren internally debated leaving without telling Nug or Asharae first. If one of them woke up and he wasn’t here, he would never hear the end of it but...

It wasn’t like he was wandering off into the forest alone.

“Let us make haste, my dear.”

-

“Mayhap on our next meeting, we will hunt monsters instead of deer, eh?” Beren suggested, a light hearted grin on his face that caused a lump to form in Wren’s throat. He turned away and nodded, turning to focus on the hunt.

They weren’t hunting for deer or rabbits for food as Beren escorted him up to that secluded little hut further north. The old man and woman that lived their were nice enough, rather reclusive but still polite, the only real complaint that they had was the increasing wolf population in the area. Wolves weren’t an issue, keeping down the population would be easy enough so they wouldn’t bother the old couple any more and they could keep down the goblin population. After saying their ‘farewells’, Beren and Wren prepared to leave but the small girl that lived there rushed out to stop them.

She was acting very shifty.

No. Not shifty, more nervous with how she was constantly looking over her shoulder back at her home to make sure her grandparents weren’t watching.

The girl introduced herself as Trysha and offered them a small pouch that she said was filled with herbs, Wren was ready to turn it down and explain they had more than enough back at camp but Trysha cut him off. It wasn’t just the herbs in the pouch, there was a list in there too. Now Wren was confused.

Trysha shuffled anxiously on the spot and whispered that she had a request to make of them.

It turns out the girl was an aspiring magick user, she didn’t care if it lead her down the path of a mage or a sorcerer, she just wanted to learn magick but her grandparents wouldn’t allow it. Claiming that she was not ready for such teachings and it was too dangerous, Trysha didn’t believe that. It wasn’t like she was trying to learn spells that would move mountains, she only wanted to study and understand her talents a little better.

Most of Wren’s knowledge on magick was instinct and what he knew from Asharae, he wished that she was here so he could hear her opinion on this. He ended up agreeing much to Trysha’s excitement, the list she hid in the pouch had vague locations of spell tomes she was interested in and said she didn’t need all the tomes but she would be grateful for any he could find. Wren was still unsure and made a mental note to talk about it with Asharae later.

And that is how Beren and Wren found themselves halfway between Trysha’s hut and the moonglow meadow, before returning to camp, they thought it best that they do a quick scout of the surrounding area for any monsters that might be attracted to the camp fire. It was a smart idea, it was the same thing that Wren did when he, Asharae and Nug were camping out in the wilds but he knew that Beren kept the area very clear of danger and on the way up here, the elves took care of any stragglers. That included those annoying choppers.

Wren couldn’t deny that he felt a burst of pride when he watched Nug kick a chopper right off the cliff and into the Brine below.

Her skills were growing so fast before his very eyes but he could still see the inexperience. The occasional clumsy swing, how she sometimes left herself open to attacks when she came running in to protect him or Asharae and that wasn’t forgetting that there were a few close calls were the brother and sister almost got swiped by her blade. Recently, Wren have been considering getting her a warrior’s mace or even an axe but he was too anxious about how she could handle a heavier weapon.

Nug was strong. Her lanky frame hide that so well but she was more than capable of hauling two or three dead saurian bodies at the same time, so he was not worried that she wouldn’t be able to carry a heavier weapon, far from it.

His fear was that she would misjudge a swing and cause serious damage to either Asharae or anyone they might be around.

Neither he nor Asharae had the skills to help Nug improve, they weren’t warriors.

He must have looked like he was lost in thought because he didn’t hear Beren step closer, nor did he see him until the beastren large hand on his shoulder. There weren’t many people that could make Wren feel small but Beren was one of them and what he made Wren feel, some words were only said between lovers or two drunk people that met in a tavern. “You’re staring. Is there aught on your mind?” The warrior asked.

“I...”

Beren did say that if Wren needed anything then he would do what he could. It wasn’t like he was going to ask the beastren to trap a drake for study purposes.

“May I make a request of you, Ser Beren?”

The beastren paused and looked back at Wren, he was a little caught off guard at the formal title but didn’t question it. He figured that it must be a serious topic if he was choosing this approach so Beren stabbed his sword into the ground and gave Wren his entire attention. “Already callin’ in that debt, eh? You waste no time, friend.”

A pang of guilt appeared in Wren’s gut.

“Ah, is it truly calling in a debt when you are can say ‘no’?”

Beren smiled back. “I have a feeling I won’t say ‘no’.” Just seeing how relaxed he was helped ease the elf’s anxiety. Maybe he was over thinking it and Asharae’s own paranoia was finally getting to him, he shouldn’t let that happen, that wasn’t who he was. Asharae was the skeptic, Wren was the optimist.

“Would you be willing to train Nug in the ways of the warrior?”

“Your pawn?” Beren asked, caught off guard at the request. He had many recruits over the years, all which came from different walks of life, be they human, beastren, young, former criminals, poor and even arrogant nobility but not once has he ever had a pawn in his squad. Mostly because they wouldn’t obey him.

A shame, really. Despite his Battahli up bringing, Beren held the belief that pawns held a lot of promise and would take on his teachings better than any human or beastren ever could.

“Yes. Nug has been a warrior for some time now but she needs guidance.” And she needed it from someone who wasn’t going to treat Nug as just a pawn, she was more than that. She was capable of learning but only if the person teaching her treated her like a person. “Guidance that neither myself nor my sister can offer her, and I was hoping-”

“That I would take her on.”

“She won’t be any trouble, I give you my word on that. Nug is eager to learn and will do whate’er you command her to do.”

“I have ne’er taught a pawn but I would be lying if I said the idea didn’t intrigue me.” And not for pride reasons, if any of his former peers in Battahl. If they found out that he willing took a pawn on as a student then he would be shunned from the Battahli army and even Bakbattahl itself, it was a good thing that he no longer cared what her former peers thought of him. He didn’t really care what his fellow Vermundian soldiers thought about him. “This is not aught I can do o’er night though and I suspect you can not order your pawn to remain with me for an extended time.” He had a point there. In theory, Wren could order Nug to stay with Beren but she may take the order too literal and not move from the spot until he returned to claim her or being away from him might cause the pawn great distress. The latter possibility was giving Wren anxiety so his choice was made.

“No, I can’t order her to stay. I want her to learn but I don’t want her to feel that I have abandoned her.” One day he would sit down with Nug and talk about what they should do should they all be separated because of circumstances out of their control but this wasn’t the time to try that out.

“Then what if you were to stay?”

Wren blinked and turned to the warrior. “Me? Stay here?”

“Why not? If what I’ve heard of pawns’ learning ability being second to none then I should be able to teach her the basics in a week, maybe two if things go smoothly.”

“Only two weeks, you say?” Was that arrogance or Beren was just that good in his teaching methods? Wren could help but smirk as he thought back on their sparring session and how Beren had him pinned to the ground, the confidence was very attractive either way.

“If there is no improvement in Nug’s skills in that time, then I shall march myself straight to Vernworth and resign in front of the captain myself. I wouldn’t be much of instructor if I can’t teach even a pawn.” Wouldn’t that be a sight? Watching This fine specimen of a beastren marching into the guard house and telling Brant that he no longer wanted to be an instructor for an area that was already short in trained soldiers. Actually, it might be best that Wren not picture those two men in a heated discussion, it got Wren a little too hot under the collar and then Beren said this. “Mayhaps, you and I can engage in another bout of hand-to-hand, you can ne’er know when you will be caught in such a vulnerable position and have no weapon to defend you.”

Was he...?

“I shan’t argue with that.” Wren moved so they were face to face, he hoped the darkness was hiding how red he was. Might be a good idea to turn down his lantern to try and make his attraction not as obvious as it was. He was ready to say they should get back to camp when he felt Beren’s hand move from his shoulder and down to his lower back, it made the air in Wren’s throat catch for a moment.

“You have a body that is wasted on being an archer.”

“You’ve been paying attention to my body?” Wren asked back, his mouth quirking up into a teasing smile.

A low rumble emitted from Beren’s throat, he tried to disguise it with a chuckled but Wren heard it.

“I must disagree with your observations. My aim is undeniably spot on, many a time I have shot a rampaging cyclops dead in the eye.” To be fair, that only made the cyclops in that situation even more angry. Luckily, it ended up marching off a cliff so it was a battle well won.

“Hmmm, aye, I cannot deny that but that does not meant you don’t have other talents...” The warrior nodded but didn’t once take his eyes from the elf, were his pupils bigger or was it a trick of the light? “I can easily picture you wielding aught larger.”

Wren’s breath hitched.

“What did you have in mind?”

Suddenly, Wren was pressed against one of the near by trees, his bow was instantly dropped to the ground but the quiver was pressing uncomfortably with it trapped between his back and the tree. But what he was more focused on was the large beastren looming over him and the hard metal chest plate pushed against his, that is what he chose to focus on instead of anything else that was hard, that was proving to be difficult. His breeches were suddenly a lot tighter and the need to thrust against the warrior was strong.

It didn’t help when Beren’s hands moved from down the elf’s arms to rest on his hips. They dipped under the leather vest and fabric of his tunic making Wren shiver when the cold metal of Beren’s gauntlets made contact with his skin.

It had been so long.

He needed this.

He needed the physical contact.

“I’ve wanted to get my hands on you from the moment you first walked into my camp.” Beren growled, his voice heavy and pupils blown wide with lust.

Another shiver of anticipation travelled through Wren’s body.

“What are you waiting for then?”

Chapter Text

Wren was sore.

But it was a good kind of sore.

His body was free of any tension as it lay completely relaxed against the grass, the cool feeling it brought to his skin eased the ache in his lower body but there would be bruises for sure. Wren wouldn’t be surprised if there were already starting to develop on his hips and thighs, there would be small cuts too, he could already feel the breeze making them sting slightly. There was a riftstone at Beren’s camp, maybe he could pull their next mage pawn aside in a quiet moment and have them healed before Asharae noticed that her brother was suddenly struggling to sit properly or even lie on his back because of the friction burns from the tree he was previously being held against.

Or would that be an abuse of magick?

He wasn’t sure but depending on how back his post-sex limp was, he would decide then.

For now, he would just enjoy the moment of the clear sky above them and Beren’s warm body beside him and forget about the rest of the world. “That...” Wren began, letting out a pleased sigh and closed his eyes. “Was more than worth the wait.”

Beren laughed and reached over to caress the tender skin of elf’s thigh, brushing over a scar that was there. “That it was.”

Wren had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop from moaning, the rough pads of Beren’s hands felt so good on his skin. He knew what it felt like to be with someone who had either work or battle worn hands but beastren were different, with the exception of their noses, beastren had extremely rough textured skin. Maybe it was to protect them from the harsh climate of Battahl, who knows but Wren knew he was grateful to be able to feel it. Between that and the sensation of short fur against his heated body, Wren was putty in Beren’s hands.

Rolling onto his side, grunting when a pain shot burst in his lower region, Wren could get a better look at his lover. Funny, the beastren didn’t look nearly as worn out as he felt.

Warrior stamina, no doubt.

Beren must have heard Wren shift beside him because he rolled his head to the side to look back at him, even in a post-sex state, he was still an intimidating presence. Was it his over all size? Those piercing eyes? Or the mouth filled with sharp teeth? Beren appearance alone demanded respect and the fact he didn’t get it from the encampment was shocking, the beastren racism in this kingdom was still shocking to Wren.

It had to change, it had to be one of the first things to change once Disa was no longer pulling the strings.

Slowly reaching over, Wren tenderly stroked his thumb against the part of Beren’s face that he bit during their sparring session. Funny, how even under the fur, he could see the slight swelling. He would have to borrow some salve from Asharae to make up for this action.

As well as his own aches and pains.

Beren was caught off guard by the gentle touch, his eyes were wide as he stared back into Wren’s blue eyes. Seeing that the other man was just being affectionate, he let out the breath he was hold, closed his eyes and relaxed. The feeling of exposed skin against fur was not a common experience for beastren so Beren intended on savouring this while it lasted.

“Forgive me, my dear...” Wren whispered.

Beren blinked open his eyes and frowned. “Whatever for?”

“I fear I went to far in our sparring session. T’was out of line for me to bite your face.”

“Now, now, I invited you to do such a thing. Save your apologies, I assure you that I more than enjoyed our sparring session and what it lead to.”

Oh yes, Wren enjoyed the aftermath too.

But even the most blissful moments had to end and they had been out here for much longer than they planned, Asharae and Nug would be getting worried if they had woken up. Perhaps Humphery was too but he wasn’t likely to show it, he might try and come looking for his mentor and the Arisen; and the last thing they needed was for the lad to stumble across this sight. Let him keep some form of innocence while he could.

“We should go back before...” Wren breathed, closing his eyes and just letting himself get lost in the sounds of the forest and their own synchronized breaths.

“Yes, no doubt our absence will be noticed but first...”

A pair of large hands suddenly grabbed the elf’s hips and he was quickly rolled on his back, Wren’s eyes snapped open to see Beren grinning down at him. It shouldn’t arouse him this much to be in this position but it was the most alive that Wren had felt since waking up in that excavation sight.

“What say we make a few more lasting marks, eh?” The beastren suggested, rolling his hips against the elf’s and drawing a deep moan from the other man. “I want other to know that I was able to mark you in ways that no monster can.”

“I am at your mercy, my dear warrior.”

-

They returned to the camp a few minutes later, their monster patrol and hunt was long forgotten but Beren joked that he would wake Wren up early the next morning to make up for the areas they didn’t manage to search, just the two of them again. Wren knew it was most likely a joke, his friend took training very seriously but that didn’t mean there wasn’t part of the Arisen that didn’t let himself hope that meant there would be a repeat of tonight.

Now all he had worry about was telling Asharae they would be staying here for a week or two so Nug could train with Beren and Humphery.

It was a relief to see that Humphery and Nug were no where to be seen but to his surprise, Asharae was sat at the slowly dying camp fire and sharpening her daggers, she didn’t acknowledge her brother or their host returning but she knew they were there. When did she- No, he didn’t want to even consider that his younger sister had heard them. She most likely woke up with a dry throat or the need to relieve herself, noticed that her brother and the warrior were gone and decided to wait for them to return before retiring to her own bedroll. “We should follow the example of our young companions and get some rest.” Beren suggested. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

That they do.

“I will inform my sister of our agreement.”

Beren nodded then suddenly leaned in and placed one last kiss on the elf’s lips, stunning him once again. “Sleep well.” Beren purred and Wren shivered, that baritone voice did unspeakable things to him. He was too busy watching the warrior leave that Wren hadn’t even noticed his own legs were taking him over to the fire until he was sat next to Asharae, who still hadn’t looked at him or even nodded in acknowledgement of his presence.

She just kept her focus on her digger and the whet stone.

For a moment Wren feared that she was going to stab him.

Maybe he should put a bit more distance between them, just in case he had to make a run for-

“Did you have fun?”

What?

“Pardon?” Wren asked slowly.

Asharae lifted her dagger and held it eye level, close to her face as she carefully inspected her work. Having a freshly sharpened blade that close to your eye would normally give someone anxiety, Wren couldn’t judge because this was the same way he inspected newly crafted or recovered arrows. “Your little tryst with Ser Beren.” The female elf continued. “Harpies in heat aren’t nearly as vocal as you.”

Oh shit!

“A-Ah, I was not aware that you had heard myself and Ser Beren.”

“We all heard you, brother.”

Oh gods, suddenly Wren was wishing that a second growth covered drake would swoop down and swallow him whole.

“I had trick them into drinking some sleeping draught to spare their innocence.”

Was she implying that she had to hold Nug and Humphery down to pour the curative down their throats? Oh, Wren really hoped not. He was going to pretend that Asharae had actually tricked them into drinking it willingly, maybe lied and said it was a strangely coloured wine and they were both naive enough to believe her. And if that was the case then Wren had a lot to teach Nug about spotting when his sister was clearly lying.

“A-Apologies...”

“No need to apologies. As strange as it may sound, it was actually a comfort to hear- or rather, know you were indulging in... those kind of things.”

“That is an odd thing to say to your brother.”

“Perhaps but there is truth to my words. You have ne’er been short on admirers, I spotted counting how many you’ve have a long time ago and those are just the ones that I knew about. Were you to remember and tell me, I am sure the number would triple.”

Wren frowned disapprovingly at her description of his past actions.

“I am not an ox cart. People do not pay me for a ride.”

Asharae snorted. “I wish they did, at least then we would aught to show for your numerous mistakes.”

Wren didn’t reply.

No laughter, no words, nothing.

It made Asharae worry, she stopped her own chuckling and looked over at her brother who was staring at the few remaining embers of the fire. Any post orgasm bliss he once had was completely gone and he looked more self conscious with how he was rubbing his hands against his legs and chewing on his bottom lip. ‘Was I truly so willing to fall into other people’s beds before?’ He thought and felt ashamed if that was the case.

Wren wasn’t stupid. He knew that he felt attraction to a lot of people since he escaped the excavation site, before then, he just didn’t know but he never fell into bed with any of them until now. But was he more willing to do that before?

That didn’t sit right with him.

“Hoy.” Asharae called out, her voice more understanding.

Wren looked up at her.

“I meant no harm with my words.”

“I know, tis fine.” He replied and turned away again, but Asharae could hear that his words were hollow.

“No, it is not fine. I don’t think and clearly I said aught out of line, I thought you would- This is just...” Let out a long, drawn out sigh. Ashrae ran her finger through her hair, tucking it behind her ears and stared up at the starry sky as she tried to think about her next words carefully so there would be no confusion and Wren would understand that her teasing was never meant to hurt his feelings. “Falling in love comes to you as easy as breathing, brother.” She began. “You do not fall into bed with people as much as I made it sound, you were no virgin but you told me about a few romantic encounters. But I can not count the number of times we would arrive in a new village or town and you would find a new sweetheart. Mother would say you had more love in your heart than most.”

Falling in love, eh?

Yeah, that sounded more like Wren.

Love had a far greater appeal to him than than just carnal lust, though he did enjoy that too. Asharae wasn’t finished talking. “Often the feelings were reciprocated and other times they weren’t but it ne’er stopped them for playing with your affections, it always ended the same way.”

Oh...

Asharae had her head bowed and her hands wringing together, she looked... angry. A common look she wore but this was not directed at her brother. Looking between her pinched expression and hands, he could see the beginnings of fire magick fluttering around her fingers so Wren moved closer and placed her hands on top of hers before she would accidentally set something on fire. Beren would not be pleased if they accidentally burned down his hard grown garden.

“Sister...” He began when Asharae grabbed onto his hands and squeezed tightly.

“I like Ser Beren. Really, I do but I do not wish to see another take advantage of your love. I have witnessed it too many times, you have always been forgiving by nature but heartbreak was the one thing you could ne’er handle.”

“I am not in love with Beren.” That was one of the few things that Wren could say with certainty, his mind might be scrambled but he was sure that he could still tell the difference between love and lust. “What I feel is attraction and admiration but not love, at least the romantic kind.”

“Do you think you might fall in love with him?”

“I honestly can’t say, I do not plan to but feelings are ne’er that simple.”

“I see...”

He would tell her about asking Beren to train Nug tomorrow, she didn’t need that weighing on her head after this conversation and Wren had a lot to think about now too. He had to think about in how to approach this- what he had going on with Beren, it wasn’t love but there was no way of telling how Wren’s feeling would evolve over time or if he might actually develop romantic feelings for someone else. They sat in silence for a little while, Asharae rested her head on her brother’s shoulder and let her eyes slide shut when she felt her brother’s arm wrap around her shoulders, it was nice.

Just for them to be able to sit like this and not give a damn about the rest of the world.

Asharae could feel herself starting to drift to sleep, she rubbed her cheek against the thick material of her brother’s cloak and yawned. What they needed was a good night’s sle-

“I picked up another request for us.”

Asharae opened her eyes and frowned, there goes her chances for an early night.

“Only you would find someone to help in the middle of the forest.” She retorted and sat up. “What did you volunteer us for? Pest control? Escorting a stuck up noble? Climbing to the top of a mountain?”

“Naught like that, dear sister. At least... I can not promise on that last one, the list I was give was rather vague.”

Asharae’s head whipped around to him at the word ‘list’, what exactly had he signed them up for that there was a list involved. She held her hand out and demanded to see the so called list and for him to explain further. “This child gave me a list of locations we could search for these tomes.” Wren began and then went into further detail about what Trysha wanted from them, Asharae was silent the entire time but her focus was unwavering to it was difficult to tell if she was getting more annoyed or not. Was there ever a time where she wasn’t frowning?

“Is it reliable?” She asked when the older elf stopped talking.

“Tis our only lead.”

“Very well, let me see...” Wren handed over the list and watched Asharae’s face as she read through it. There were no twitches of her mouth, that was good sign but her brow did furrow in concern and she began tapping her fingers against her knee. “This is... rather spread out across the kingdom.”

“Well, t’would be too easy if we were to find all five tomes safely locked in a chest in Vernworth, wouldn’t it?”

Asharae snorted and rolled her eyes. “We would ne’er be that lucky.”

He couldn’t argue with that, nothing was ever easy in this kingdom.

Asharae only got up to retrieve the map of the kingdom from her tent and bring it back so they could compare the suspected location on the list to what was on their map. Both siblings visibly deflated when they saw how wide spread this little fetching quest was actually going to be. Towns were the obvious place to start their search, if they had the gold to buy the tomes which would be very expensive and if that was the case, maybe they should try the more remote places first.

“Still, so much land to cover. Where should we even start?”

“I was thinking the battle grounds in the west, tis less like to be pillaged by bandits and merchants with it being so far off the beaten path.” Less human life but more monsters, nothing they couldn’t avoid or handle and maybe the prospect of finding some lost treasure would encourage Asharae. Wren would hoping to find a tome or two for himself, nothing magick related, he would prefer a history tome or maybe a scroll. This all sounded like a solid plan, they could run it past Nug in the morning and it wasn’t like she would object to the chance to explore new territory as well as learning from a seasoned warrior.

Speaking of learning...

“There is aught more I should inform you about before we retire for the night.” Wren confessed, scratching behind his ear. Asharae sighed and ran her hands through her own bed mused hair and stared back at her brother expectantly.

“If you are going to share a tent with Beren, pray, keep noise to a minimum. I ran out of sleep draught.”

“What? No! No! I am- We are not- Why would you think that-”

Wait a minute.

“You terrible sister...”

Asharae smirked and shoved him back. “Horrible brother.” She retorted. “Carry on, what do you have to tell me beyond your affair?”

“It is not an- Hmph!” Wren huffed and scowled at his sister. This just made breaking the news all the more easier. “We are going to be staying a further two weeks so Beren can train Nug.”

“Are you so desperate for physical contact you need to lie and involve poor Nug?”

“I am not- Ugh! We will discuss this further in the morn, goodnight!”

Wren stopped back to his tent, shoulders hunched and face bright red as his darling sister cackled.

He was going to get her back for that comment.

-

They weren’t prepared.

Not in the slightest.

Even with a newly recruited mage and even a sorcerer, they had greatly overestimated their own skills and how far the battle ground actually was from Vernworth, maybe they should have stopped in the city to resupply but no, they were feeling cocky and did a few trades with travelling merchants they had crossed paths with. Merchants could be nosy at time so they asked where the group was head, Wren lied and said they were following up a monster infestation further west. Asharae muttered under her breath that she wished they had a contract for that area, so they would at least be getting paid for their troubles.

Wren stood on her foot to make her shut up and she elbowed him in the gut.

They didn’t always have to be paid, it wasn’t like they were struggling for funds anymore.

The merchants made a few comments about how western Vermund had a big population of hobgoblins, venin harpies and rock rattlers. Wren lit up at the mention of other saurian varieties so Asharae quickly shot that hope down, they were not making a detour so he could see if he could find a nest of them to study. They said thank you for the warning and adjusted their strategy to combat these monsters when they encountered them, Nug was eager to show Wren and Asharae what she had learned from Beren in those two weeks that stayed at his camp. The merchants wished them luck and after some helpful trades, they parts ways.

It would have been nice if any of those merchants mentioned that the road that took them deeper into western Vermund also lead them them into the path of a number of ogres, a minotaur and a drake of all things!

They narrowly avoided an encounter with a griffin but while trying to hide under thicker tree canopys but that only lead them to a spot where a drake was sleeping. It was only when an unusual thumping in Wren’s chest and a strange pull alerted him to his presence, they only managed to make a run from it when it stirred awake.

Wren liked to interact with various beasts and despite her caution, Asharae enjoyed a challenge, and Nug was always looking for the chance to prove her worth as a pawn but none of them were stupid enough to pick a fight with a drake. That drake in Melve didn’t count because it wasn’t planned, they had back up from a former Arisen and they couldn’t leave the people of Melve to fall victim to another another monster’s destructive fire. It was strange, once they were a safe distance from the drake and could breath a sigh of relief, Wren realized that the drake in Melve didn’t cause the strange thumping in his chest or the pull. The Melve drake did have a pull but also it gave him a feeling of repulsion for this stinge kinship, he hoped they would cross paths with Sigurd soon, Wren really wanted to ask him more about what he thought about that drake.

He shook that thought from his head and they continued on their way. The merchants were joking about the number of hobgoblins and bandits, the number of pillages and completely destroyed ox carts they passed made a lot of sense now.

After fighting their way through saurians and venin harpies, they managed to reach the ancient battleground, it was a depressing sight. It was times like this that Wren was harshly reminded that the history tomes he read came from real events, the damaged ruins, the still standing barricades and ballistas that were still in working order and the strangest part was that they weren’t the only people in the battleground.

A man by the name of Oskar was there fending off a group of skeletons. Of course, Wren and Nug charged right in to help him.

Turns out this wasn’t another case of a traveler that tried to take a less travelled road and got ambushed, he was here with a purpose. Apparently, within the ruins of the castle overlooking the battlefield there was a cenotaph with a bell he had to ring, he had been neglecting this duty for so time because he didn’t fully understand the seriousness of it. And because of this neglect, skeletons had become the driving force in the area, Oskar wanted to make up for his mistake but the skeletons were making it impossible for him to even get close to the cenotaph.

Asharae let out a sigh in advance for when Wren would offer their help, which he did.

This made Oskar very happy, he promised them payment and they could take whatever they found in the cenotaph except one thing, he didn’t say what that was but he would explain when they were at the bell.

Cutting through the skeletons was always easier with an addition member to their group even if it was temporary, they got to the bell of the cenotaph and Oskar rung it, he said that it will take time for the ancient magick to kick in but over time the number of skeletons should diminish and all that would be left were the ghosts. Nug let out a fearful whine at the mention of that. Oskar gave then an old looking key as their reward, Asharae was not pleased with this reward but Oskar promised that it must open a door in the ruins. He had never found it but maybe they would have better luck.

When Oskar left, Asharae said they should just leave and there likely wasn’t anything for them to find if there payment was a rusty old key to a door that may have been broken open long before they were born.

Wren disagreed, they still had to search for that tome for Trysha. Asharae groaned but told him that she would wait in the room with the bell, she didn’t want to poke around a creepy skeleton filled ruin more than she had too. Maybe it was the magick from ringing the bell but there weren’t as many skeletons this deep into the ruins, it was by pure accident that they found the door that they could use the key on and there were some valuables inside including a large bag of gold, a hand full of onyx stones and a double ended spear that was enchanted with fire magick. It reminded Wren of the spear that Sigurd used, for that reason alone, he decided to keep it even though he had no idea how to use it.

It was too valuable to sell so keeping it was the second best choice.

Maybe if he crossed paths with Sigurd, he could give it to the other Arisen. At least then it would be in good hands.

They should get back to Asharae now, it wasn’t safe for them to stay separated in this place for a long period of time but while walking through the darkened hallways, Wren found himself stopping again and focusing his attention on another lantern with a glowing blue light. These things were everywhere, there were too many for this to be a coincidence and as much as he tried, Wren couldn’t shrug off the questions that were floating around in his head.

“What do you make of these?” Wren asked his magickally inclined pawns, tapping the strange lantern with his bow because there was no way he was going make skin or even gloved contact with it.

“Tis a lantern, Arisen.” The sorcerer replied in a flat tone and Wren rolled his eyes.

This is what he gets for hiring a straight forward pawn.

It wasn’t as funny when their sassy was directed at him, he already had to deal with enough of that kind of attitude from Asharae. “I am aware that it is a lantern.” He replied dryly, Nug covered her mouth to hide her giggling. “But why is the flame blue? Tis not a common sight, is it magick or aught else?” It obviously had to be magick but the unspoken quest was ‘is it dangerous’?

“I believe they are acting as a guide.” The more soft spoken mage brought up as they stepped forward, they pointed their staff down the dark hallway they came from and even in the thick darkness, the strange blue light was breaking though. “They have been lighting an unmarked path since the gates, my first suspicion was that they may be a trap, leading us to that skeleton lord but given how they keep going forward… Perchance, we should follow them?”

Follow a trail of strange lanterns further into an ancient cenotaph that was filled with skeletons and gods know what else just to see where the lanterns were trying to lead them too?

Yeah, that sounds exactly like something Wren would do.

“Let us retrieve my sister and venture forward.”

-

“That was hell!” Asharae screeched as she pushed past the heavy stone door, raced out into the sun light with Nug close on her tail and took a deep breath of the clean mouth air. She hated caves, she hated mines and hated skeletons! The first two made her feel trapped and the last were just creepy and pointless. Why did necromancers even bother creating them? Their bones were so brittle that they snapped like twigs and crushing their skulls was as easy as smashing an egg.

And that was ignore the bandits that were in the cave, there were only slightly more irritating than the bats that were flocking them and tried to latch onto Asharae’s long hair.

Ugh, just thinking about them caused her to reach up and ruffle her hair just to make sure there wasn’t one hiding there.

While doing the bat check, she was nearly knocked down to the ground by Nug who raced past her, followed by a very worried Wren and the other two pawns.

Asharae wasn’t pleased with exploring the cenotaph further, she thought they should just leave and go back to Vernworth. They had to take a moment to process her words because she has never said she wanted to go back to Vernworth willingly before but she was really craving a strong drink of ale after these past weeks, Wren promised that he would buy her so much ale when they returned to Vernworth that he and Nug would have to carry her back to their home. She was going to hold him to that.

Now that his sister was sated, Wren could handle everyone else.

“Take a moment to catch your breaths.” He told his pawns. “Sit and take in the view, explore, do as you please but do not wander too far.”

“Yes, Master.” The pawns responded together then dropped down to enjoy the refreshing, mountain breeze.

And now to handle Nug, who had ran in front of the entire group and was off in her own little space. Anxiously clenching the handle of her great sword and taking quick breaths, it was too much like how she reacted after the battle with the dullahan. “Nug?” Wren gently probed, taking slow steps around her, making sure not to make physical contact just in case he startled her.

Her eyes were wide but not focused on anything in particular.

“Nug, why don’t we sit down and take a few slow breaths, hmmm? Does that sound like aught you can do?” The Arisen gently pushed.

Even with the fur, Wren could see the damp build up of sweat on her forehead. “I… I- Mhmm!” She agreed, pressing her lips firmly together and nodding. With her great sword still in hand, Nug shakily sat on the cool grass and Wren sat in front of her, she was struggling to meet his gaze. This felt so shameful.

She shouldn’t be the one needing comfort!

“Now, deep breath in.”

She followed the command.

“Hold it for a moment.”

…

“And slowly release.”

Along with the breath, Nug’s hands eased from around the hilt of her great sword so Wren was able to take t from her and place it to the side.

They repeated this process until Nug’s breathing was back to normal and her posture was no longer stiff and ridged like a snow harpy had been breathing down her neck. The Arisen didn’t say much more beyond guiding her in calming down, he just sat there and waited for her to move at her own pace.

“I... I don’t like spirits...” She choked out then turned away. Bowing her head in shame at the admission, a good pawn shouldn’t be scared of anything, in her eyes. She felt so confident after the training with Beren and this is how she reacts when faced with a challenge? A pawn must be ready to face any kind of foe to protect the Arisen but all it took was one sinister chortle from the phantoms that were haunting those caves and Nug went stock still.

“I know you don’t.”

‘Such shame!’

“I shouldn’t be scared.” She argued, screwing her eyes shut and fully expecting to be scolded for her cowardice but no harsh words came.

Opening her eyes to dare look at her master, Nug saw no anger on his face. Just sympathy.

“Why not?” He asked back. “All living beings are scared of one thing or another.”

“But I am a pawn.”

Yes, all living things had something to fear but not pawns. They couldn’t die so why should they fear monsters, it made no sense for Nug to dislike spirits and ghosts but they just... she couldn’t find the words to explain it. They made her so uncomfortable. If she could, she would never interact with any of them again but that wasn’t her choice to make. Should the Arisen decide to search a graveyard then Nug would loyally follow, she just couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t freeze up again in battle.

“And pawns are not allowed to show fear?”

Nug wanted to say ‘no’.

Every other pawn that she had encountered didn’t appear to show fear of any monster. Dislike, yes, but never fear so why was Nug different from them? Was she not a good pawn?

The mere thought of not being a good pawn, it brought tears to her eyes. What good was she if she couldn’t do her duty properly?

“Shhh, there is no need for tears...” Wren whispered as he reached over and dried the edges of Nug’s eyes with his sleeve. He wasn’t against having a good cry when things got overwhelming but Wren would not sit back and let his pawn beat herself up over something that he viewed as perfectly natural. If Nug had no fear then that would be more troublesome than helpful. A lack of fear lead to stupid decisions, or so Asharae liked to remind him when he went on rants about wanting to see how a griffin was able to build a nest or even finding one of their eggs in tact just so he could see what it looked like.

“Master?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Are... Are you scared of anything?”

Oh, that was a big question.

Wren huffed out and ran a hand through his hair, those caves were so dust filled that it was sticking to his hair, he would have to arrange a trip to the bath house when they got back to Vernworth. But was he scared of anything? Of course, he was.

“I’m scared of losing my sister, I am scared of losing you.” And many other people. He didn’t want to see Sven, Brant, Ulrika or Beren come to harm because of his actions.

“What about monsters? Do you fear any of those?”

Somehow that was an even trickier question.

“I fear the dragon.”

Nug nodded but didn’t look any better, she looked like she expected that answer because everyone feared the dragon. Even pawns. It was possibly the only thing they were scared of.

“I also fear people.”

“What? But you... I don’t understand, you enjoy the company of people. How can you also fear them?”

“Because we expect atrocities from monsters, tis in their nature to be destructive and cruel, is it not?” Wren would argue that not all monsters weren’t violent, mindless beasts that craved human blood but the fear was real for a reason. “People, though... My mind may be flawed these days but each time I see a human perform an exceptionally selfish act, I find myself beyond horrified and at times disgusted by them. I understand Asharae’s distrust of humans very well but this is also why I cling to my belief that not all people are bad. I need to believe that.”

If he didn’t believe that then what was the point in getting out of bed each day?

What was the point in fighting the dragon if there were only selfish people in the world?

“I want to believe people are good too.” Nug agreed with a nod, it looked like she was doing that to reassure herself of that belief. “But I don’t like the ones that hurt you or Ser Asharae.”

That was something they could both agree on. With a much happier smile on his face, Wren reach up and brushed the sandy strands of hair from Nug’s forehead, she was due a hair cut but so was he. It was starting to tickle the nape of his neck and it was distracting.

“I don’t like them either, my dear.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as Wren began fixing and picking the dust and cobwebs from his pawn’s hair, Nug helpfully leaned down so it was easier and only squirmed when her master playfully pinched her ears. Turns out that sensitive ears was a trait that both elves and beastren shared.

He was only seconds away from asking Asharae if she happened to have a comb in her pack when something caught his interest from the corner of his eye. Turning to see it, a cracked wall with a very intricate carving in it and a worrying number of weapons stabbed into it.

“Oh, look at this...” Wren said in awe, leaving Nug’s side to jog over to a crumbling wall. Wait, not a wall, was that... a mural?

A mural depicting a man fight against a half human, half beast?

It had the body of a lion and large feathered wings much like that of a griffin but with four paws instead of two and a set of bird claws, as well as the head of what might and been a woman if that chest was anything to go by. Wren didn’t focus on that area too much.

There was no record of a creature like this in Wren’s journal or any beastiary he had ever stumbled across, the only monsters he had ever seen that had human like features were the harpies or the Medusa but this was entirely new and Wren was enthralled with it. What was it? Was it still around? Why was it hidden this far into the mountains?

He had to take a note of this!

Frantically pulling off his pack, Wren blindly rummaged around inside and pushed out his journal, opening to the first relatively clear page he could find and started sketching down the mural in his excitement. He must have been muttering a lot because his actions attracted the attention of his sister and the other pawns because they approached him from behind and stared up at the mural too.

Each of them had their own views, the pawns were curious and studying the sight. Asharae was more suspicious, cautious even, in her eyes any creature that was depicted on an ancient wall had to be respected or feared. Many craving of the dragon backed up that belief but she had never seen this carving either and that scared her. Her fear was that Wren would be tempted to go looking for this monster when they were already meant to be looking for that damned dragon at some point in the future, what was this new monster going to steal from her brother!?

“This is very strange. Why waste good weapons imbedding them into a carving?” Nug asked after she pulled one of the spears from the wall and inspected it closely. It was such a waste, she might not know how to use it but maybe she poke a fire or a dead body just to make sure it was dead?

Oh! Perhaps she could use it when fishing!

She had read in some tomes that spear fishing was a method some of the fishers of old times, she’d like to try that.

“It could be for a number of reasons, my dear. Perchance this creature has religious ties and was once worshipped as a deity and any opposed to that belief attempted to deface the mural.” That would explain why most of the spears were imbedded in the image of the beast but he couldn’t say that with any certainty so Wren left that question open when he wrote it down in his journal. He barely noticed the sound of approaching footsteps even a familiar snort came from his left. “It looks rather ugly.” Asharae commented, tilting her head as she took in the mural.

“So do you first thing in the morning but I ne’er comment on it.” Her brother responded.

He side stepped to avoid the in coming punch to the ribs.

“Bastard...”

“No. I was planned, you were the mistake.”

If elves could hiss like beastren could, Asharae would be doing it right now.

She then went quiet as she dug around in her own pack, Wren only paused in taking his own notes when he heard the sound of turning pages that certainly weren’t from his journal and to his surprise it was coming from Asharae. She had taken a tome from her pack, when did she buy that? It wasn’t part of Wren’s collection and it didn’t look like any that belongs to their small collection of spell tomes. It looked very old too,

“Where did you-” Hang on a moment, he had seen that book before! “Did you take that book from the cenotaph bell!?”

Asharae paused mid page turn.

Gave her brother a fleeting glance then went back to going through the pages.

“No one will miss it.”

What?!

“Why would you take that!?”

“It was on the list.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The list. The list you so generously agreed to complete for that child in the mountains, I remember seeing the name of this tome on the list so-”

“So you just took it.”

“Yes.”

“I-” This was frustrating. They did need to book but this wasn’t right! It had an important role to play, they couldn’t just take it but he also promised Trysha. With a low growl, Wren snatched the tome from Asharae’s hand and shoved it into his pack along with his journal. “I am not happy with this.”

Asharae met his disapproving stare with her own unmoved one.

“Then why are you keeping it?”

Good question. Wren just wished he had a good answer for it in return, he had an answer but not one he liked. “Trysha only requested a number of tomes, should we find them then this one will go straight back to the cenotaph!” If he had to, he would take down Oskar, frantically apologize for the actions of his impulsive sister and even escort him back to the cenotaph so he could perform the same ritual to banish the skeletons again.

“And if we are unsuccessful?”

“It shan’t come to that.”

At least, Wren will do everything in his power to make sure that it wouldn’t come to that.

Asharae opened her mouth to say something rumble of rock and the tingle of magick in the air was enough to tell the siblings what they were not as alone as they once believed, they whipped around to see a collection of rocks assembling themselves into a much more intimidating shape.

“A golem.”

“We can ne’er have a moment to rest, can we?”

-

It was bit of a blessing disguise that golem decided to attack them.

When pulling precious ores and magick medals from the collapsed body that was once a very angry golem, Asharae noticed another cave entrance but this one was a carved stone door. No doubt that it lead somewhere interesting, probably somewhere with monsters, she was in two minds whether to even tell her brother about it or try and get them to leave the way they came. Unfortunately, her own guilt wouldn’t let her hide this. With her mouth twisted into a frown, she begrudgingly pointed it out, Wren promised to make her favourite meal when they got back to Vernworth.

She was pleasantly surprised that this cave had not monsters, bandits or even bats flocking around in it.

But the fact that it was a long since abandoned hallway instantly set her on edge, this place didn’t build itself and whatever built it could still have followers lurking around. Or maybe their spirits were. Wren hissed at her to shut up about the possibility of spirit, he didn’t want to set Nug off again.

Thankfully, the cave-hallway was much shorter than any of them anticipated.

The first sign of sunlight and they all took off running until they were greeted with fresh mountain air and a view of Vermund that left them speechless.

“Look at that view!” Wren praised, he looked so awestruck and the bright grin on his face lifted Asharae’s heart. This was the brother she remembered, the man that appreciated the world and didn’t take the beautiful things like this view of Vermund for granted, even Asharae found herself getting caught up by the sight. Seeing how the setting sun silhouetted Vernworth and made the ocean glittered, she could forget for a moment about all the terrible things hanging over their heads.

The temptation to sit down and just take in the view was great.

So great that when Asharae glanced out of the side of her eye, Nug had already stabbed her weapon into the ground and sat cross legged at the edge of the broken path, staring out at the distance with such wonder. Asharae envied her innocence at times. She could still remember when she and her brother first left home and that was their reaction to every new thing they crossed paths with. It would be nice to get that back.

“Even from Melve, we could not grasp the sheer size of this kingdom but from here… tis far more vast than I e’er could have imagined and we haven’t set foot in Battahl.”

Not yet, anyway but when all of this was over, Wren was hoping they could visit the neighbouring kingdom. It would be nice to see a place where the ruler wasn’t trying to kill him. Unless he did something in those three months he was imprisoned and had no clue who he was, wouldn’t that just be his luck if he did something to upset the ruler of Battahl too?

‘Sven would love this...’ Wren thought as his gaze lingered on Vernworth palace, the clearest part of the city that they could see. The higher points of the palace must have spectacular views but nothing could beat this, maybe Wren could find something interesting in this temple to give his young friend, he did promise that next time they saw each he would answer any questions Sven had about outside Vernworth. A hidden treasure would be just the thing to see that excitable smile.

“Shouldn’t we focus on this place before you have us turning o’er every pebble in the kingdom?”

“You make a fair point, dear sister.”

Now, let’s get a good look at where those lanterns had taken them too.

It might have seen better days but the structure wasn’t like anything they had seen in Vermund so far or even in the Malachite Forest with the elven ruins, this place had to be older than both which was a both concerning and thrilling. Wren chose to focus on the thrilling aspect and what they could possibly find. “Tis a wonder that it is still standing. For it not to have been reclaimed by nature, could it be protected by magick and if so what power! What could the purpose of this place be?” He rambled, his head craned back so he could get a good look at the still standing pillars and stone roof, as well as the cracked steps.

“A place of worship?” Asharae suggested, titling her head at the statues that were at the base of the stairs. Despite the clear weather worn damage, there was clearly was care and devotion put into making these, the statues were probably the only well cared for thing here as the rest of this structure? Temple? Regardless, it was slowly crumbling but someone had to be visiting regularly to have left these blue lanterns lying around.

“Hmmm, a likely theory but to what deity?”

If it was even a deity to begin with, there were tales of the some civilizations believing the dragon to be a deity… that never ended well for any of them.

Wren held his hand out and grinned at his sister. “Shall we investigate further?”

Asharae smirked. “Have I e’er been able to stop you?”

Her brother’s grin only grew and he ran up the steps, taking two at a time, oddly energetic for someone that hiked through a battle ground, a skeleton filled castle and then through haunted mountain mines. Where did he get that energy?

With the pawns being up the rear, Asharae somehow managing to stay in the middle despite how exhausted she was and Wren at least ten steps ahead, they made it up to the entrance of the temple in record time but slip to a screeching halt when they saw what was waiting for them.

“Oh gods...” Wren breathed, eyes wide as he stared up at the creature.

Awe wasn’t enough to describe what he was feeling, he was enraptured with it. He took a few tentative steps forward, not taking his eyes from the creature. It must have been pleased with his reaction because the corners of its lips turned up into a very satisfied smile, Asharae didn’t like it, it reminded her too much of a snake waiting to strike its next victim. “Another dogged adventurer, come to take my life?” It spoke, snapping Wren out of his stupor and making Asharae flinch back. Monsters that could speak clearly and with a degree of intelligence were never a good thing.

The creature lifted and spread its colourful wings, smaller than that of a griffin but no less intimidating, especially those glowing purple eyes that felt like they were staring into the siblings’ souls.

“Many have tried, and, as you can plainly see, all have failed.” It boasted in a strangely soothing voice. Wren and Asharae almost didn’t hear the footsteps of Nug and the other pawns matching up the steps and suddenly halting when they were met with the same sight. “I would abandon any such fool ideas, if I were you.” Those burning orange eyes were now fixed on Wren, who are least had the decency to look more unsettled rather than intrigued at the idea of a monster that could crush them under its paw if it was feeling merciful.

“After all, that which is won by brute force is apt to be lost to the same.”

Asharae frowned, not entirely trusting it not to try and kill them but if it was giving them to option to leave with their lives then they would be idiots to-

“We mean no harm.” Wren spoke up.

And Asharae had to push down the urge to punch him in the back of the head. What was he thinking?! They were given permission to leave and he wanted to stay and talk?

But no!

Her foolish brother kept advancing forward, holding his hands up and away from any weapons he was carrying to show he meant no harm. “I confess t’was not our intention to come to this place, we were not even aware of existence and only followed the lanterns. Our only crime is being curious.” He admitted.

Asharae was screaming internally. ‘And curiosity killed the beastren! Or in our case, the elf with no self preservation skills!’

The creature appeared to be satisfied with Wren’s words, its pupils dilated ever so slightly and its posture became more upright and proud. The excitement was clear as day. “Perhaps I might interest you in a game of wits, instead?” It offered. “I set before you a simple task: solve my riddles to satisfaction. Should your answers please me, I will bestow upon you the contents of yon chests. I trust you have your attention?”

“Riddles? O-Oh dear...” Wren breathed, suddenly looking very embarrassed.

This confused Asharae, she expected many reactions from her brother but never embarrassment. He had his head bowed and was scratching at the back of his neck. “Did you do aught that I should know about?” Asharae whispered, was there trouble waiting for them somewhere that she didn’t know about?

“I… Naught serious, I swear.” He quickly replied. “But I fear I may have spoken out of turn.”

“And what, pray tell, does that mean?”

“It means I owe a certain beggar an apology for calling him a berk.”