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Everything was lost in a buzz of senseless noise. Bets made between students, screams of support or insults from classmates, few of the responsible ones trying to put an end to the fight before it got out of hand. He ignored all of them, there was only him and his opponent. A trumpet blast signaled the beginning of the fight. Harold slammed his visor shut and drew his blunt training sword, no blood will be drawn here today. His opponent appeared to be regretting his decisions now that he was actually in the ring, most did after challenging Harold to a fight.  Seeing that his opponent was too nervous to go on the attack, Harold pressed forward instead. The recent rain had turned the training grounds into a field of mud, but Harold marched without hesitation, steps steady despite the uneven footing—years of training made sure of that.  He advanced quickly, sludges of earth flying in every direction with each of his heavy steps. He was much taller than his opponent, and had a greater reach as a result, Harold attacked first. A slash from the right, something to test the mettle of his opponent without overcommitting.  The shorter knight was no slouch with a sword, he easily parried the half-hearted attack, though he never got the chance to counter.   A slash from above, a slash from right, a feint from below, a slash to the head. Four well practiced chain of moves executed to perfection, most fights would’ve ended right then and there. His opponent appeared to have expected it, he managed to block the first two attacks and leaned backwards at the very last moment to dodge the last, what he didn’t appear to have expected was the punch that followed.  A single mighty hit from a hand covered in steel gauntlets and his opponent was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his ringing head. A kick from Harold sent his face into the mud, the shorter knight raised his hands in surrender before taking off his helmet to empty his stomach.  That was it? All that big talk from before and he gave up after two measly hits to the face. He ignored the cheers and boos ringing out from the audience, instead of ending the fight he turned his sword around to grip it by the edge. He drove the pommel into his defeated opponent’s elbow, a crack rang out, the poor boy’s arms bending in an unnatural way.  A blood curdling scream rang out. All of the sudden it was almost dead quiet, only a single person's cries of pain remained. A lone thought entered Harold’s head.  ‘ Pathetic.’     The smug voice of his employer ended his reminiscence. “Staring a hole into that fire won’t light up your non-existent sense of humor.”... Employer…     A crossbowman mercenary from the Arlon frontier region, the man sitting on the other side of their campfire was one among many. A beard fitting a rugged frontiersman covered his face, his dull dark eyes filled with cynical humor. The cheap green gambeson meant to blend in with their forest surroundings betrayed his empty coffers with its tears and wears. …Employer… The idea of calling this man by that title didn't sit right with him in the slightest, yet the facts of the world cared little for his feelings. He was being paid to escort the mercenary and his wagon through the edges of the Altena Forest, that was the undeniable truth.  “Hmph, won’t even bother speaking huh? I swear, if I had to spend more than 3 days travelling with you, I’d be permanently crippled by the boredom”.  “Yeah” was all Harold had to say.  “Well, if you’re going to be like that then I might as well hit the hay. You take the first watch, wake me up in four hours and we’ll rotate. We’re moving at the first sign of light. If the weather holds, we’ll reach our destination by the afternoon, you’ll get your pay then” he said.  “Sure”  The crossbowman looked at him for a moment before scoffing and going to his tent.  Harold sighed as he ruffled his hair, now a dirty blonde rather than the brilliant gold it once was. Once called the most charming knight of the academy, can’t even keep a smuggler entertained. What a sorry sight he was, small bags having formed under his eyes from a lack of sleep.  Rust had begun to edge into his armor, even his helmet wasn’t spared. It truly took a monumental amount of neglect to make enchanted steel rust like this, the blacksmith who made it would likely have bawled his eyes out if he saw the crude collection of orange plates that his masterpiece of craftsmanship had turned into.  The only part to remain free of rot was the brilliant trimmings of gold and silver that decorated it, depicting the coat-of-arms of his house, The Lyon. It forever served as a reminder of his origin, of who he was just a month ago. However, in spite of the crest that haunted him daily, his harness was also the one possession that could allow him overcome the predicament he was trapped in. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, knowing that his one lifeline was a direct gift from father.  It’s been over a month by now, yet he still remembers the argument as though it happened yesterday. It wasn’t the first one they’ve had about his violent tendencies by any stretch, but it was the first time he dared to yell back.   Now here he was, camping in the wilderness like an animal, calling a low life of society his employer while feeling sorry for himself despite knowing he was in the wrong. Even now he felt a tugging sensation pulling him back home, to simply apologize to father and leave this senseless rebellion behind. Father was in the right, he always was. Even if Harold never really understood why.   No, neglecting his harness was unacceptable. He suddenly felt like a fool for allowing it to rust. Next week, he promises himself. Next week he’ll scrub all the rust off and oil it properly (he ignores the fact that he made the same promise a week before).  With him mulling over his depressive mood, his shift seemed to end in a flash. The mercenary took up watch and Harold went to sleep while dreaming of days that somehow felt distant and seemed so near at the same time. Mornings spent with teachers of poetry, history and mathematics. Afternoons learning etiquette and swordsmanship, long evenings riding across his family’s estate.  An unbroken streak of victories in jousting tournaments, uncontested dominance over the training grounds.  Whispers behind his back, nicknames meant to anger him, insults of his lineage.  With the unpleasant dreams filling his night, Harold was glad to see dawn finally break over the horizon. A very short breakfast later, the pair of them were moving once again.  The mercenary tried to make some small talk, apparently his name is Vannol, before giving up after realizing that Harold is determined to ignore him as much as possible. After that it’s silent, with only the sound of tapping hooves and rolling wheels to accompany them.  In his troubled mind Harold never realized the unnatural nature of such silence, despite having been trained to do so. The only time critters of the forest became this silent was to avoid the thunderous march of a swarm.  Vannol noticed them before Harold did. “Army ants!” he yelled out as he hurried to load his crossbow, Harold heard them a moment later, the scuttling of small feet.  Realizing they’ve been detected; a dozen giant army ants rushed out of the forest foliage. Harold dismounted his horse to meet them head on. He couldn't reach them with his sword while on a mount. He suddenly regretted not grabbing his lance when he left home. *THWACK* a crossbow bolt hit one of the ants square in the head, killing it instantly. “Don’t let them reach the horses!” his employer yelled. Harold nodded before charging forward. The army ants were quite large, long enough that if they were to stand on their rear end, they’d reach his shoulders. It was his first time seeing one in person.  Nonetheless, swinging a sword at an ant and a person isn’t so different. His first swing takes one of their heads clean off. He chains his swing into a thrust and kills a second foe. Their exoskeletons are tough, but no match for enchanted steel befitting a knight of a duke. The ants attempt to bite his arms with their sharp mandibles, but Harold’s been training with a sword since he could run. His stance is formidable, and he keeps just enough distance to not get swarmed while still being close enough to attack his foes.  Harold has to admit, the crossbowman was certainly a sharp shooter. In a short period of time two more bolts find their targets, killing one and disabling the other. Harold seizes the opportunity; three quick thrusts claim three more foes. It was only a moment later that he realized his mistake. He had overcommitted in the heat of battle while there were still four more enemies remaining, he’s surrounded.  One of the ants took hold of his right arm from behind. It couldn't pierce plate, but the unoiled rusted surface of his armor served to make it near impossible to break free from its grip. He only had a moment to curse his foolishness before one of the other ants locked his leg in its jaws and pulled him into the ground. A third ant takes hold of his helmet and tries to bite through it. Harold thought he could hear yelling, but everything was lost in a haze of noise as mandibles met steel.  With strength fueled by desperation Harold drew the knife on his waist and stabbed, the ringing suddenly stopped. He gets up to see Vannol engaging two of the remaining ants while the other lied on the ground with a bolt stuck in its head. The man was by no means a rookie with the blade but with only a gambeson and a buckler to protect him he won’t last long. Uncontrolled rage welling up from within Harold completely forgets his sword and tackles one of the ants.  The moment he took hold of his enemy; it felt like a dam that's been building up his entire life burst. One, two, three, four… Again and again, he hit it in the head, again and again steel gauntlets met exoskeleton. It almost felt cathartic in a way, to unleash his anger in such an unrestrained manner with no worry for honor or glory. There was room only for the struggle of survival. With a yell, the seventh strike caves in its skull. He almost laughed out loud before finally regaining control of his emotions and reminding himself of how improper that would be.  Harold took his helmet off and laid on the ground there, panting, once again wondering how he ended up here, feeling satisfied for having caved in a creature's skull when he should’ve been training and learning at the academy.  Vannol let out a boisterous laugh as he approached. “Here I was thinking I was travelling with some disgraced snob, turns out he’s more savage than any bandit I’ve ever met!” he held out his hand, offering to help Harold up.  “I’ll have you know I’m the son of duke! And I’m not disgraced, I…I chose to leave” Harold says.  “Ha! If the sons of dukes were so willing to cave in an ant’s skull with their bare hands, then these bastards would’ve run from the frontier long before I was born!” Despite himself, Harold couldn’t help but chuckle at those words. He took Vannol’s hand. “I suppose Harold the exterminator does have a nice ring to it.”  “Heh, so you can speak after all, here I was thinking I hired the first autonomous golem as a bodyguard. But the 'exterminator' sounds far too impressive, I like Harold the 'brute' much better”.  Vannol’s face suddenly turned serious as he took a look around at the fallen corpses. “But to see army ants so close to the frontier, things have truly gone to shit in Altena ever since that goatfucker Joachim slaughtered the elves.”  “That was 6 years ago, was it? I believe it was at Arlon gate. Isn’t Joachim’s involvement in the incident still under investigation by the frontier council?” Harold asked.  Vannol scoffs “Complete farce is what it is, ever since the elven clans were shattered Altena has become a no-man’s land. The fact that army ants are so close to the walls is proof enough of that. The council is delaying his execution because they can’t find anyone capable enough to deal with the situation, and as much as it pains me to say it, Joachim is about as competent as one can get when it comes to holding the frontier walls against the hordes.” Vannol sighs.  “Enough about politics and atrocities. More of the little bastards might swarm if they realize their scouting party got slaughtered. Less likely if they were to just disappear. I’ll give you half your pay now, you stay here and burn the corpses. I’ll deliver these goods to their buyer and hopefully we can put some distance between ourselves and the swarm before nightfall” Vannol said as he got into the wagon.  Harold eyes him with suspicion. “You sure you won’t bolt?”. The mercenary laughs “Why do you think I hired you in the first place? Unfortunately, I like living and I’d be as helpless as a dwarf in water if I encountered a scouting party like that by myself. What would I do without Sir Harold the ‘brute’ to protect my maidenly self”. He doesn’t miss the emphasis on his supposed new title. “Trust in my self preservation and wait here, I’ll be back within an hour. You’re not allowed to know our meeting place anyway.”  Harold reluctantly nods before getting to work on dealing with the corpses. It’s certainly not an enviable job. The smell is worse than any peasant latrine and he struggled to get a big enough fire going without any oil. After an hour of gagging and more questioning of his life choices he finally had all the ants burning in a big pile. Ant flesh looked terrible and smelled ten times worse, he had to wonder how the wall garrison dealt with incursions. He refused to believe that any guard would be willing to put up with this on the regular  “Still alive Harold?” Vannol smirked as he approached, now with a much emptier wagon.  “Barely” replied Harold with a green face. Vannol chuckles “Don’t worry, you never get used to the smell, nor do you forget it. It’s a lifelong companion for anyone living on the frontier, more loyal than any spouse. Know that you're now forever bound to the fine aroma of the devils' balls, truly exquisite stuff I tell ya.” Harold could feel himself dying a little inside with each passing word. But he finds it in himself to smile nonetheless, he had just won his first serious battle and proven he had what it took to survive and maybe even thrive.  He’d grimace, looking back upon these thoughts, thriving on the frontier had a very different connotation than that of his homeland.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“You’re far more talkative now.” Vannol says while stirring a pot stew hastily made using jerky and wild vegetables. It was nighttime now and they made good pace with the cargo no longer slowing them down. “Willing to share what was up with you? I meant it when I said I was questioning whether I had hired some kind of golem”.  “I’ll tell you if you share what the cargo was.” Harold says, not expecting an answer. “Sure!” Vannol sees his surprised face “What? It’s nothing illegal, I assure you.”  Well shit, he hadn’t actually intended to share his past with anyone. He thinks for a moment before shrugging, “I left my house”. Vannol scoffs, “Yes, I have two working eyes, what led to it?”  Harold sighs, realizing he’s not going to be able to get out of this conversation. “I got into a fight at the academy, a boy named Jacob accused me of charming his older sister and requested a duel. I accepted and accidentally broke his arm”. Vannol laughs at this “Accidentally he says, ha! Harold the ‘brute’ indeed.”  Harold glares at him for a moment before continuing. “Father got mad at me, said that Strength is to be found in restraint, if you can’t even resolve a conflict with someone 3 years your junior without beating them senseless, then you’re no better than a chicken rooster” said Harold, impersonating his father, badly.  “I refused to apologize to Jacob and argued back against father, I called him a spineless coward, he threatened to disinherit me and soon enough I was rushing out of my home” Harold finishes his story, closing his eyes. There was a moment of silence, “That’s it?” “What do you mean ‘that’s it’?!”  “Well, I was expecting something more dramatic is all. Plenty of young'uns come to the frontier in search of a new life. Usually they tell tales of loss and future revenge, yours is tame in comparison. You can return home at any time if you wish, the only thing to lose would be pride” Vannol says, with that same smirk that Harold was starting to hate.  Harold does his best to push down the anger welling up within him “I’m not going back, I’ve decided to make a life here and a Lyon never goes back on his word!”  Vannol laughs “Stubborn as a stallion! That’s good, hold onto that, stubbornness can bring you far in the frontier.” he digs through his pocket before throwing Harold 7 silver coins.  Harold is shocked by this “Didn’t we agree on 6 silver in total? You paid me 3 earlier so shouldn’t it be 3 now?”  Vannol holds up his index finger “First lesson every mercenary has to learn. If you’re risking your life fighting someone else’s battle make sure you get properly paid for it, you’re a former knight in training with a full plate harness and a mount, take no less than 5 silver for 2 days of work. You can jack up the price from there depending on how desperate your client is.”  He holds up his second finger “And clean yourself up! Your current disposition just screams ‘please take advantage of me’, you have to make your demands from a position of authority. Remember! They need you to save their life, you on the other hand can go without pay for a few days. You have the room to negotiate, clients usually don’t.”  Harold listens attentively as Vannol continues to give advice, he’s been in this line of work for over a decade after all. As uncouth as he may be, the wisdom that comes from years of experience is to be respected. He soon realizes that Vannol taught these lessons with practiced ease. ‘Plenty of young'uns come to the frontier huh’.  He finds himself respecting the marksman in front of him, helping out a stranger like himself, and likely many others, even if he has no reason to do so. “You’ve certainly got a bleeding heart, I’m surprised you’re smuggling illegal goods”  “Well, I’m not a brute like you, within me lies a pure maidenly heart. And like I said earlier there is nothing illegal about my cargo!” Vannol answers with mock offence. “What is it then? You’re telling me you bring grain and cloth through Altena forest to the middle of nowhere?” “Spot on actually” “Horseshit, no one risks their life to sell grain beyond the walls.” “What can I say? This is a strange world we live in. Anyway, give me your bowl, the stew is ready, I’m sure you’re sick of eating nothing but beef jerky.” Vannol fills his bowl, it’s a brown broth with a few pieces of meat and vegetables floating in it. He’s surprised by the nice aroma, something that promises to fill him up and keep him warm throughout the night.  “Well? Try it.” He does, it's surprisingly good. He realizes that this is the first real meal he’s had for the last month or so, since he left home. He couldn't cook, nor could he be bothered to learn while caught up in his depressive mood and he didn’t have the money to buy meals from taverns. He’s been subsisting on nothing but roasted game meat and whatever minor provisions he could get his hands on.  Taking a moment of clarity to truly look at the last month, he realizes what a complete and utter fool he’s been. Neglecting his armor, his physical health, and his training. Reviewing his battle with the army ants, the realization that this neglect could've gotten him killed sets in.  An entire month of struggling with his thoughts, and of all the things that could’ve snapped him out of it (a pretty girl, legendary adventure or a new great calling etc), it was a bowl of stew made by a crossbowman.  “Thank you, Vannol.” the mercenary just smirks “Any time, the stew’s good right? The wonders of Altena’s bounty, and my cooking skills ofcourse.”  “Heh, with all the mentions of your pure maidenly heart and you showing off your household skills, maybe you should find a good husband to settle down with in some farmstead.” Harold jokes.  “HA, I’ll consider it if it means I don’t have to deal with burning ant flesh again.” They both share a hearty chuckle at the shared trauma of all frontiersmen.  They talk a little more after that, and soon enough it’s time to go on his watch. Although his thoughts are very different from the day prior. 'I’ll return and apologize to father eventually, but not yet', He decides.  To return now would be to tarnish the name of his house. The House of Lyon was built upon the back of the competence of its advisors and the prowess of its knights. He would return home, but only after he has proven himself.  What that meant, he didn’t really know. But unlike yesterday, he was prepared to try.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There were no incidents the following day, they simply packed up and made their way back. He felt good, like he was finally himself again after weeks of hallucination. At the edges of his vision he could see Arlon gate, the largest one in the Altena frontier region. Built nearly a millennium ago, it marked the beginning of the unification period. It once symbolized peace and the united front formed by humans and the elven clans. Now? It was the grounds of a great tragedy, one that would undoubtedly become a lasting taint in frontier history. “Let me know if you’ve got any more work, I’m strapped for coin at the moment.” Harold said as they officially declared his mercenary contract complete. “Sure, you’re reliable enough. You should also look for work in the mercenary’s guild, I’ll put in a good word for you.” “Thank you, Vannol. I truly appreciate it.” He truly meant it, for the first time in a long time it felt like he saw the world clearly once more. “No problem, just try to avoid any uncouth work, things can get pretty brutal out here. And don’t die! I’d like to share a drink with you someday. I’d ask now but I’m guessing you have a lot on your plate at the moment” the marksman says while smiling. “True enough, may god bless your journey.” Harold slightly bows his head and begins to ride ahead, his companion waves as he goes. He could see the frontier walls in the distance, every single tree in a three-kilometer distance had been cut down to allow for better visibility. The walls are a fearsome thing, stretching 30 meters high with a wide moat of water running at its base. Large watch towers had erected upon it, no doubt filled with guards prepared to signal the reserve should any incursions or invasions be detected. Thousands of men could arrive in less than an hour, tens of thousands in less than a day. This is the final border of human civilization. Below and upon its walls millions have met their ends for the last thousand years and will likely continue to do so for a thousand more. Despite its size and history, there is no grandeur to be found in its design. If he had to describe the wall in a single word, it would be practical. Not a tourist attraction by any means, but that is to be expected from a structure that stretched for hundreds of kilometers. The fact that the council was capable of maintaining and modernizing the walls at all was truly a testament to their strength and dedication to holding humanity’s frontier against the endless ant hordes. It wasn’t particularly difficult for Harold to get through the guards. Pioneers came through the area all the time, and Harold was clearly a well-armed traveler returning from an expedition of some sort. He supposes that the notion is technically true, any venture out beyond the frontier is considered to be an expedition, even if it was for shady dealings in the middle of the forest. First and foremost, he had to find a permanent place of residence. He had just arrived in the area when he took up that contract with Vannol, and he hadn’t managed to find lodgings yet. He probably should’ve asked his companion about it before they parted ways. The nearest city was only a 30-minute ride away, a metropolis named Alanfer, he was confident that he could make an arrangement with a tavern or a landowner to rent out a place to stay, especially so if he used his status as a high noble, though he wanted to steer away from making use of his title whenever he could. On that note he should probably clean himself up, it wouldn’t do to negotiate while looking like a robber baron. He asked around at the wall garrison and was able to buy some oil for cheap, it’s technically illegal to sell garrison equipment but he doubted the local quartermaster was observant enough to notice it missing. An hour of scrubbing, wiping and oiling later he wouldn’t be out of place in a royal parade. He took a moment to admire his reflection in the water. The enchanted plates of his armor hummed in power with the energy flowing through it, active now that he’s run proper maintenance on it. While doing so he also planned for the near future, he didn’t wish to camp in the wilderness any longer. He decided to avoid staying in the city, renting a stable to shelter and feed his horse would strain his already tight budget, it would be far cheaper to stay in a rural area. He could reach Alanfer easily enough should the need arise. The same guard that sold him the oil directed him to a local landowner named Thomas. The estate was located along a small river 30 minutes away from Alanfer. It was a quaint little thing, large fields of grain and vegetables with irrigation dug from the river, a few small cabins built along its edges with a larger house being located in the center. There were about a dozen men working the fields, some paused to stare at him while others only spared a quick glance. The few children who were playing nearby excitedly ran over to him, he could already tell what was about to happen… “Are you a knight mister?” “Where are you from?” “Are you from the garrison?” “Have you ever fought a dragon?” “Does your horse have a name?” “Your armor is really pretty” “Is that your sword mister?” “You aren’t robber baron are you” “Of course he isn’t, he’s like a hero from a story!” All of these were said in less than 5 seconds. Harold suddenly wondered if dealing with children was something taught in advanced communication classes in the academy. If not, he decided that it was a massive oversight. He spent nearly a minute being bombarded by questions and struggling to answer them as the farmers watched on with amusement clearly evident. The ones who were more suspicious of an armed man approaching also seemed to relax as they watched the horseman squirm under the pressure of children. This continued until one the farmers came over to disperse them. “An ogre is coming for us, run!” “Hey! My dad isn’t an ogre, take that back!” The children all ran away, laughing and yelling. Harold could already feel his opinion of the landlord rising. Father always did say happy children meant a prosperous domain and a capable leader. “Little rascals, I swear we could lynch them on an ant swarm and they’ll manage to kill its queen by talking.” Says the man, he was a rugged looking fellow with a straw hat and facial hair that would give a dwarf run for its money. His skin was well tanned from the sun and he had a strong build that can only be achieved through hard labor. “I’d believe it” He was still reeling from their relentless assault. “Anyhow, what would you be looking for sir, we’re good hard-working folk, got no quarrels with any nobles.” Harold supposes that his status as a noble is obvious enough with the decoration on his armor and sword “I’m looking for a place to stay, maybe for a few months. Would it be right of me to make such talks with the owner of that house?” he said while pointing at the large house he saw earlier. “Thomas, I believe he was called.” “Aye, that would be correct. I believe Sir Thomas is currently out at the moment, he’ll be back in a few hours. His daughter should be home, make yourself comfortable sir…?” “Harold Lyon” “Patt, make yourself comfortable Sir Harold. Sir Thomas never turns down a guest.” “Thank you for your help, Patt.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Evelin’s day was the very epitome of normal. She had cooked breakfast for herself and her father, cleaned the house, spent some time reading at the grove of trees near the river, and spent the rest of the afternoon studying. The only event of any note was father going out on his patrol. A simple and easy day, if a bit boring. Or at least, that would’ve been the case if it hadn’t been for the armored man currently standing in front of her home. The first thing she noticed was how tall he was. Evelin was hardly a short individual, but she certainly felt like it as she barely reached the man’s chest. The second thing she noted was that he had golden blonde hair, a trait shared by most nobles from the eastern kingdoms. The third thing she noted was that she’s been silently staring at the man for nearly 10 seconds, and he was starting to nervously glance around waiting for his greeting to be recuperated. She just hoped that he wasn’t actually a noble and instead someone from the garrison or the reserve. It wouldn’t do for her to offend a member of the aristocracy. “My lady?” With that accent he was definitely from a noble family, quite a powerful one judging from his expensive armor. She made a fourth note that she was delaying giving a response, and that the atmosphere was getting ever more awkward as the seconds ticked by. She had to gather her bearings and give a dignified response befitting someone who was (technically) also a member of the nobility. She’s studied etiquette before (even if she’s never had any practice), in this situation she’d say ‘Greetynges, mine lord’. “G-Greetynges!” ah, that came out wrong, a ‘lady’ isn’t supposed to squeak like a rabbit. “Greetings…is Sir Thomas home?” he said, thankfully ignoring her embarrassing situation. “N-No, father isn’t home at the moment.” “I see” There was an awkward silence once more… “Ahem, would you like to come inside? Father will be back in an hour.” She had finally put her voice under control and was at least speaking like a normal human being again. “Thank you for your hospitality” --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harold wasn’t sure about what to make of the girl currently serving him a cup of tea. She did her best to speak in the old tongue, normally only ever used by ancient houses from the central lands. He hated them, his snobbish former peers from the academy that is. Always talking nonsense about the importance of their bloodline, not realising that the honor of a house depends on its current members, not ones who have been dead for centuries. Daring to call him a descendent of the Red Duke. He didn’t really speak the old language himself but he’s, unfortunately, heard it enough to recognize she wasn’t a proper speaker. “You don’t have to force yourself, I’m not from any of the central families” he said to reassure her. “Huh?” She seemed confused, he guessed that she didn't know much about the nobility so he decided to explain. “The old tongue of the nobility is only spoken by a select group of families from the central lands; it went out of fashion for most eastern houses about a hundred years ago. We speak the common language now.” She seemed both surprised and relieved at the statement, she likely didn't interact much with the nobility even if she was technically one herself. With the frontier council having so much influence in these lands the nobility were little more than minor land owners, some in the central lands would argue they weren’t nobles at all. “If I may ask, for what purpose do you seek my father?” Evelin asks, taking a seat opposite of him after placing some pastries that looked positively delightful. “I'm looking for lodgings. I intend to stay in the region for at least a few months and a garrison guard directed me here. I’ll pay, of course” He took a bite from one of the pastries, its appearance didn't lie, it was delicious. “That's great! We have a few empty cabins, I'm sure father wouldn't mind lending you one of them, you can talk coins once he arrives” She gave Harold a shy smile. “You said you were from the east? You must’ve travelled far to come here, is this the first time you’ve come to the frontier?”

“Yes, I only arrived a week ago. I returned from a… venture beyond the walls today. If it’s not an inconvenience, would you tell me about the region?” Harold gave a well practiced charming smile as he asked. Combined with his sharp features, golden hair and distinctive ruby eyes, most would’ve been enamored with his face. But the girl in front of him seemed more interested in answering his inquiry. “This land’s been critical to the history of southern humanity! There is so much to talk about, did you know that the city of Alanfer actually predates the frontier? It was founded as a fortress city nearly 1500 years ago, but it was during the unification era that…” ‘Seems like we have a scholar here’ Harold was honestly impressed. An education was difficult to acquire for someone living in the frontier region, especially in rural areas like this. Even more impressive is that her knowledge is of history, hardly a practical field of study for someone living on a farmstead. It was mostly things he knew, he had studied plenty of military history as a part of his training, but he had spent 5 years fully dedicating his time to learning at an academy with professional teachers. He occasionally chimed in with interesting facts or insights, Evelin seemed unexpectedly combative, in an intellectual sense, when it came to academic matters. Never willing to blindly believe something, but always willing to challenge herself and others to learn. It was quite nostalgic to discuss history like this, it almost felt like he was back at the academy. “Have you ever received a formal education, if I may ask.” he said after a while. Evelin seemed quite embarrassed by the question. “N-no, I’m self-taught. But it's my dream to one day learn at an academy and to work at a king’s court as a steward. Even if I would be starting late in comparison to most others.” Harold was even more impressed, history wasn’t even her intended field of study. Judging from how her eyes twinkled as she spoke, it was likely just an interest. “Lady Evelin, I can quite confidently say that you are superior to most noble academy students two years your senior. So I wouldn’t worry about you being late.” A crimson blush bloomed at his words “S-surely you jest, I’m not that impressive. Just someone who has too much time is all and please, you don’t have to call me a lady, I could hardly be considered one”. Harold decided to press his advantage “Not at all my lady. I’m truly astounded by your brilliance, I’m sure that you’ll have no difficulty graduating in a year if given the chance.” He was slightly exaggerating, but it was fun to tease someone like this. It was at that moment that someone who he assumed to be Thomas walked in. “I didn’t know we were having a guest, hopefully this girl of mine didn’t talk your ears off?” He said casually, somehow not at all worried about an armed man being alone with his daughter. “Not at all sir, she was a delightful conversationalist. As bright and beautiful as a polished gem.” Harold watched with morbid curiosity as Evelin somehow became even redder. He could already tell that life here was going to be interesting.

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Thomas wasn’t sure how to feel about his newest tenant. On one hand, he was a trained knight with a full plate harness and a good head on his shoulders (or at least so it seemed), not to mention he's a Lyon. Normally he’d be willing to let him stay for free, Thomas himself was once a knight of the reserve, he was granted his estate as a reward for his service, and he was more than capable of dealing with any foolish bandit attempting to rob him. But he was getting old, and he had no illusions about bandits being smart, there was always the chance they’d try something. Harold was a large intimidating figure in his armor, and bandits were stupid, not suicidal, they wouldn’t challenge a knight in his prime.Not only that, it was good for Evelin to interact with nobles her age. It’s good practice for when she makes her dream of attending an academy come true. The two of them appeared to be getting along great, and he was glad for that.So what’s the problem? The problem was that they appeared to be getting along great. It wasn’t exactly normal for a member of a powerful noble house to be looking for lodgings near the frontier. His intentions were questionable at best, and it was very possible for him to be someone of impure alignment. And even if he was a good person, there’s always the possibility of death. He didn’t want Evilin to face grief so soon after Annah…Thomas wipes the tears welling up in his eyes and pushes down the bitterness rising in his heart. No, he couldn’t protect her forever, she had her own life to live, he could only hope to soften the blow if the time were to come.“This is the cabin, it's been unoccupied for a few years so it might need a good cleaning.”“Thank you, Sir Thomas.”“Follow me, you can house your horse in the stables.” He took a good look at Harold's stallion; it was definitely no riding horse. Too big, too muscular, it also had a raging fire in its eye that could only belong to a warhorse that enjoyed a fight. Yet it seemed to make no attempt to buck off its rider nor did it have temperamental tantrums. The skill of its rider? Or perhaps loyalty to its owner? “He have a name?”Harold thought for a moment, he didn’t. He’d simply been calling the stallion ‘his horse’. Well, better late than never he supposed. “Atlas, His name is Atlas” he decided.“When mount and rider become one miracles can be achieved. From its sight alone I can tell that horse will follow you to hell and back, make sure you give it the respect it deserves.” Thomas traces his fingers along a scar on the neck of his own horse. For single moment Harold thought he saw a wistful look in the veterans' eye, but it disappeared as quickly as it lasted.He definitely had some history with his mare, he supposed that most veteran cavalrymen did. “What’s her name?”“Charlotte, I’ve long lost count of how many times she’s saved my life. Poor creature, truly unfortunate to have been saddled with a reckless fool like myself. Thankfully she’s been able to take it easy for a while now.”The stables weren’t far from his cabin, only a 5-minute walk away. He unsaddled Atlas and gave him hay and an apple, Thomas did the same.“Don’t you get tired walking around in your harness all day? I’m getting exhausted just looking at you. I assure you my estate is quite safe.” Thomas said as they walked back.Harold chuckled and shook his head “I’ve always had excellent stamina, I hardly notice the weight of my armor, even if it’s uncomfortable at times.”Thomas eyes him skeptically before sighing dramatically “That kind of stamina won’t last into your 40s, I’d know. Treasure it while you still can”Harold only smirks in response.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Harold added doing house chores to his quickly growing list of new experiences, thankfully it wasn’t so different from maintaining his armor, nor did it smell like burning ant. Always look on the bright side of things, they'd say. Now that he had a proper roof over his head, he had to face his second and main problem: his finances. After his contract with Vannol he had 12 silver, he spent one on the oil he bought from the garrison and he paid 4 silver for his first month’s rent. That left him with 7 silver, he had to get himself a lance, that’d likely cost 4 and he had to replenish his travel supplies, which would be another silver out of his coin purse. That left him with just 2 silver, hardly enough for the purchases he had planned.First he had to overhaul his cabin, he may have been getting used to rough living, but he refused to sleep in a straw bed that likely hadn't been changed for years. He had to replace the bed, get a proper pillow, refurnish the kitchen (and hopefully learn how to cook while he’s at it), decorate, and maybe even establish a reading room to continue his studies. Maybe he could invite Evelin over after he was done.On a more militaristic note, he’d have to get Atlas some armor, he wasn’t comfortable charging enemies without something to cover his mount. He almost had a heart attack remembering how expensive his own harness was, he definitely wasn’t buying plate barding (horse armor) any time soon. Leather would have to do in the short term.He was starting to have a headache thinking of his near destitute status, even if his possessions were actually more valuable than what most people would make in a lifetime. But such thoughts never crossed his mind. Managing his purse was much easier when income meant asking father for coin or winning a jousting match.He’d have to find work as soon as possible, he’ll head into Alanfer tomorrow and see what he can find. Hopefully, there’s something worth his time there.

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Harold walked through the doors of the mercenary's guild, his brand-new lance in tow, and took a moment to observe the people who were present. They varied greatly, though most looked quite similar to Vannol. Leather, chainmail or gambesons with weapons such as spears, bows, crossbows, bucklers and short swords. More notable figures included a couple of robed individuals who were clearly mages, a group of elves trying their best to avoid drawing any attention to themselves, and a few people with plate harnesses. He noted with some pride that theirs were clearly of much lower quality in comparison to his.People sent plenty of curious sights his way, it wasn't everyday someone new with an enchanted steel plate showed up after all.He walked up to the notice board to observe various contracts. If he understood correctly then the guild itself did not offer any work, they merely served as an enforcer to make sure contracts are fulfilled and pay is handed out properly, while taking a small share themselves of course.Most of the work posted was quite tame in nature, guarding caravans to other cities, manual labor and the like. More dangerous work included bounties on bandits and thieves, scouting missions beyond the wall. Truly grand scale work were mostly issued by the council, mass reconnaissance and expeditions beyond even the massive Altena Forest, serving as a peacekeeping force between warring nobles, and even an extermination order on a giant ant nest.Among the council contracts there was one in particular that caught his eye, a relatively minor one despite being issued by the council. An elimination order on a troll that's been raiding villages, they are normally easily dealt with by the garrison, but this one has been avoiding confrontation with the military. The council was offering 2 gold for locating the nest and 3 more for eliminating it (1 gold is worth 10 silver). It seemed like the perfect contract for him, it paid well, and he could retreat if things got too dangerous, a troll wasn't catching up to a man on horseback.He took the notice to the receptionist fully prepared to put Vannol's tips to use just to find out that you can't negotiate payment for council issued work, you either took the pay offered or didn't take the contract. He supposed it was fine for him either way, in some ways it made his life much easier. Apparently, the troll has been raiding villages to the west of here, the latest report coming from a village named Sonin. He could get there in less than an hour if he moved now.---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The ride to Sonin was calm and he had lunch along the way. The grassy deforested hills of the frontier region being the only thing to fill his sight, and soon enough he was standing at the gates. It was a small livestock village, likely even smaller than Thomas's farmstead.One of the people caught up in the raid explained that the troll wounded 2 people and took off with a cow, relatively low losses considering how dangerous trolls were to the average person. This was supposedly the second raid, with the previous one going much the same. The troll came after dark, assaulted the guards and ran away with livestock.It had likely taken up residence in a cave at the base of the mountain to the north. Several people have already made differing reports of seeing the troll in one of the caves, but every time a squadron from the garrison arrived the reported cave would be empty. Thankfully the village had a map detailing the entire region, he could simply check them one by one until he found its nest and killed it.The northern mountain was a strange landmark, it was a lone peak that was disconnected from the rest of the Otgon mountain range that connected the northern and southern frontier.There were a dozen caves around the base, that's where he'll find his prey. Harold tried to call upon any information about trolls that he knew of as he made his way there. They were large stupid creatures, extremely strong and famed for their stamina. They were naturally capable of stemming bleeding very quickly, the only way to kill them was a single decisive strike to a vital organ. A pike formation of a dozen men made short work of the brutes, but Harold obviously couldn't do that here. He'd have to kill it with a decisive charge, 'not at all different from a jousting match' he humorously thought.Still, he didn't fail to notice how empty of wildlife the area was. Trolls consumed large amounts of food, likely the reason why they lived alone, the one that had taken up residence here must've over hunted and resorted to raiding to feed itself. Trolls may be stupid but thousands of years of history have drilled into them the danger of an organized community. Afterall, the species were hunted to near extinction, by both humans and giant ants. They wouldn't attack human settlements unless they were desperate.Each cave he checked was filled with animal bones and signs of it once being occupied, though not anymore. Each one was empty of trolls, it was just when Harold was beginning to get frustrated with his lack of progress that he finally found his prey. It was standing in a large clearing in front of its cave; it appeared to have been waiting for him. Harold wasn't surprised—his presence had likely been noticed long before he arrived.What shocked him was the appearance of the troll. It was massive, if he had to guess it was well over 5 meters tall and likely weighed more than 5 tons. Much larger than the average troll, which explained the overhunting. But that wasn't the most notable feature of the creature standing in front of him, it was the fact that it had armor. Not of great quality mind you, it was a crude collection of metal plates tied to its body using leather straps. It took a moment for Harold to realize that the plates once belonged to someone, it was a collection of individual bent harnesses. If he were to fall here, his will likely be added among them.Despite their crudeness Harold immediately recognized the problem they caused, he couldn't get a clean strike to a vital organ. The only target was its helmetless head, a disproportionately small thing that had an ugly sneer wiped across it, nearly six meters in the air. He'd have to be right next to it to land a hit with his lance, not a great idea to get that close when their opponent was 5 times the weight of him and his mount combined.The troll simply stood there, looking at him while brandishing its concerningly large club, one hit from it wouldn't kill him, but it certainly would hurt. Harold began to circle around his opponent, observing it. It simply stared back; it was smart enough to know that it couldn't reach a man on horseback.He wasn't getting anywhere like this, he had to test the troll, see how fast it was. If he was lucky, he'd be able to put it down with a single charge. He and Atlas rapidly pick up speed, continuing to circle the armored troll. Walk, trot, canter, gallop. Soon enough the troll is facing a ton of muscle and steel rolling towards it at over 50 km/h. Faced with such an opponent, even a drake would consider retreat.But the plate trophies of this troll weren't just for show. When Harold gets close enough it raises its massive club and swings with surprising agility, completely catching him off guard. Only years of jousting allows Harold to react, practically throwing Atlas out of the way.Alas, he wasn't quite quick enough, he was grazed in the shoulder. His pauldron groans under the pressure, deforming before setting itself back to its original shape, the wonders of enchanted steel. His excellent armor prevents his arms from being completely crushed, but his shoulder is badly bruised, and he is almost thrown off his mount. The troll doesn't chase after them, Atlas was untouched and quickly made some distance from the troll before stopping.Harold understood the situation now; the troll was too dangerous for a lone rider to face alone. It would move nests once found if the attacker escapes, with those bold enough to put it down by themselves meeting a grim fate at its hands. Yet, Harold doesn't consider retreat for a single moment, his pride as a knight of Lyon wouldn't allow such an action. He would not back off before a mere troll.Atlas seemed to agree, the stallion angrily pawed the ground, digging up dirt and breathing heavily, though certainly not from exhaustion. He wanted blood. But before any attempts at victory were to be made, he had to better gauge his opponent's capabilities. He drops his lance and draws his longsword, the lance wouldn't hold up if he were to try to parry with it, and breaking the lance was as good as losing the battle, he wouldn't be able to reach the troll's head.Harold and Atlas charge once more, but slower with more caution this time. When the troll takes its swing Harold directs the momentum of him and his stallion in the same direction as the club's trajectory, and Harold uses his sword to slightly push the weapon off course, making it miss entirely. Mount and rider working together have done the impossible, they parried the massive log. His arms are numb from the action, but that was hardly an issue worth noting with the adrenaline flowing through his veins.Again and again, they charge in for a skirmish before rapidly disengaging, Harold's parries become ever more precise while the troll's frustration quickly builds up. Its swings become wilder; it begins to chase them after disengaging despite knowing it's too slow to catch up. Somehow, Harold and Atlas were doing it, they were beating a troll, creatures famed for their stamina, in a battle of attrition. With each clash it became slower, but so did Harold and Atlas.The parries were straining Harold's arms to its very limits, and his earlier bruise was beginning to hurt despite the adrenaline. Atlas, even with his monstrous stamina, was also beginning to burn out. Each charge was slower than the last, each acceleration longer than before. They'd have to end the battle sooner or later.Eventually, Harold makes the decision to take up his lance and prepares for the decisive charge."Come on Atlas, one last push and we send this bastard to the devil" His steed seemed to understand the notion, practically snorting steam as they began to take up speed once again. Walk, trot, canter, gallop. Once again, a ton of muscle and steel was rolling forward at over 50km/h. Scraping up dirt and leaving a cloud of dust behind, it was all or nothing now. This time the troll seemed far more hesitant to face them, and its swing came much slower.Harold tilts his body at the last moment, the club practically scraping his armor as he passes by. But as close as it may have been, the troll missed nonetheless, Harold certainly wasn't going to. In one fluid motion following his dodge Harold slightly lowers his lance, aiming it directly at the troll's head. Time slows down as both combatants see the lance inch ever closer, nothing could stop it now.When the connection finally comes, it comes violently. Harold's lance practically exploded as it met the troll's face, now nothing more than a useless half broken shaft of wood in his hand. The troll's skull shattered like a porcelain vase, the explosive impact leaving nothing but a grotesque ruin of bone and flesh. The rest of its now headless body instantly drops to the ground, dead."RAAAAGH!" "HHRRNNH-EEEEEEH!"Both Harold and Atlas let out their final guttural war cry and neigh respectively, the foe that had once towered over them lay beneath their feet, and the gory puddle of blood and brain matter to seep into Harold's heart, settling into a deep sense of twisted satisfaction.

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Harold decided that going back to the village on foot was for the best. Using Atlas as both his riding horse and his war mount was already pushing it, riding him now after battle would make Harold a slave driver. With how close some of the troll's attacks came to hitting them, it was an incredible feat of loyalty (and bloodlust) for Atlas to not bolt on him. He'd make sure to handsomely reward the stallion later, especially so now that he finally had a few coin to his name. Maybe he'd even get a bonus.He was looking forward to having some spiced wine. No, he was not feeling all giddy to be able to afford something as simple as drinks again. It was merely an after battle high is all, nothing unnatural for any warrior.A flare of pain in his shoulder snaps him out of his bright mood, he'd probably have to rest it for at least a week before he could take on another contract. A shame too, he felt like he could take on an ant nest by himself. But there was a thin line between pride and utter foolishness, and going into battle injured was clearly the latter.Now that his thoughts weren't caught up with sharing wine with a pretty girl, his attention is pulled by the jingling of metal in his satchel. He was taught to respect the fallen, and he was able to recover some items that could be used for a burial. Mostly metal and wooden carvings bearing intricate designs likely belonging to mercenary bands and semi-noble houses. He counted 9 in total. He wasn't kind enough to weep for them, but at least he could allow their families to do so and hoped someone would do the same should he be the one to fall in the future.He suddenly remembers that among the carvings is his own ring that he's been trying his best to ignore for the last month. He brings it out to twirl in his hands as he walks. It was a masterful piece of jewelry. A silver body decorated by gold trimmings depicting the Lyon coat-of-arms made up its base while a brilliant red ruby was encrusted on top. He's been too afraid to put it on. The ruby shined only for the honored members of house Lyon. If his father went through on his threat of disinheriting him, it would shine for him no longer.His somber mood lasts until his arrival at the village, the news of his victory is met with as much cheer and celebration that such a small community could reasonably muster, that being a big hearty meal and some drinks to go along with it. Truthfully, Harold found the food to be somewhat bland but— A young boy no older than sixteen begged him to take him as a squire before being dragged away by his sister.
 A young woman who had likely just celebrated her twentieth birthday blushed as he taught her waltz

An elder who had probably seen over seventy springs compared him to a hero they met many years ago.

"Thank you Sir knight!." A little girl said as she handed him a crown of wild flowers. It was beautifully made and smelled wonderful. "Thank you, my lady." He said as he took her small knuckles into his own before giving it a small peck. She bowed to him before running to her parents with barely restrained excitement.
—the cheers of the villagers more than made up for it.The humble celebration continued until evening, when Harold decided to head home despite the people's invitation to stay the night; his new cabin was too close to warrant a stay. He also wished to collect his reward as soon as possible, and he did so on the way back.He received his promised 5 gold along with a bonus 1 after he reported the irregular nature of the troll. He decided to leave the carvings of the fallen with a council official at the guild for them to be identified. The man smiled and promised to pray for his safety.It was almost dark by the time he arrived at the farmstead; the homes of the farmers were lit with soft glows of candlelight and the occasional sounds of laughter filled the fields between them. He could also see that some buildings were without light or sound, even if there were clear signs of them once being lived in, his own cabin among them.Thomas was unsaddling his horse when Harold came to the stables, the old knight had his harness on. "Good evening, Sir Thomas. I'm surprised you're out in your armor so late. I had assumed that you were retired."Thomas slightly bows his head in greeting. "Sir Harold. Your assumption wouldn't be wrong, I retired years ago. I don my harness and circle the area every evening before sunset as a show of force to bandits, to remind them that challenging the knight of Speyer is a grave mistake that hundreds have made but never had the chance to repeat. It's also good for Charlotte to get some exercise in, old as she may be. A good warhorse shouldn't wither away in the stables"Harold also unsaddles Atlas as they speak, after which he begins to groom him. The stallion deserved at least that much for fighting so hard today. He made sure to buy plenty of treats, he didn't know what Atlas liked so he decided to buy one of everything."Does it not get tiring? To patrol your territory everyday, that is""Sometimes, but I'm barely into my fifties. I'll find a squire eventually, but until then? A little exercise won't kill me.""Don't most knights find a squire in their thirties?""They do, but I wasn't always a knight. I first joined the reserve as a scout. I was merely a sixteen-year-old stableboy somewhat capable of riding and that was apparently enough for the recruiter. I was only granted knighthood after reaching forty, when I retired from the reserve"Harold's eyes widened in surprise "Do all reserve soldiers retire that early?" he asked"All cavalry except higher ranking officers do. Council organized exterminations are a brutal affair, especially so for heavy cavalry. Taking on an ant nest in its entirety is near impossible, we simply kill its queens before retreating, the rest of the swarm will be gone within a few years. Such operations require an unprecedented amount of reconnaissance and secrecy, to prevent the swarm at large from converging in defense of its nest, meaning the cavalry has to make sure not a single scouting party reaches the main body of the army"Harold considers the older man's words for a moment. An extermination army would number in the tens of thousands at a minimum, such a massive force along with its supply lines would be easily noticed by any scouting party heading in the general direction of the army. Even if you were to arm every man capable of riding in the Arlon frontier region the cavalry would still be stretched thin trying to keep the fog of war up."But shouldn't that incentivize the council to have as many capable riders as possible? Isn't letting cavalrymen retire so early counterproductive to that?""Heh, being retired from the reserve just means not participating in daily drills or skirmishes. If an extermination is being organized, I wouldn't truly have the option of backing out. I could still be called upon at any moment, until the age of 65 retirement is merely the council's way of avoiding paying your salary" Thomas said."Frontier politics may have far less intrigue in comparison to inner region courts, but it's ten times as decisive and a hundred times as deadly to make up for it"Thomas makes a grim face with a haunted look in his eye "Tens if not hundreds of thousands of soldiers could be sent to their death at the snap decision of a garrison general. Joachim is proof enough of that, the elven clans may not have been officially a part of the garrison but they were integral to the history and defense of the entirety of the Altena frontier. Then there is the purge of bureaucrats that happened merely a year before the massacre, what could drive someone to such madness I don't know, but considering Joachim is still breathing its clear politics had something to do with it."Harold ponders to himself once more. 'It seems just about everyone is in agreement that Joachim needs to be executed'. The more he heard about the Arlon general the more he was shocked by the fact that the man hasn't been replaced yet. He was taught that the council had very little corruption, the militaristic nature of the entire governing body meant that any sign of bribery was met with brutal crackdowns, and it was difficult to take advantage of the common man when the majority of the people in question were career soldiers.Thomas seems to have noticed his contemplative expression. "Well, don't bother yourself too much with it. There's not much we could do either way. You should go rest that arm as soon as possible, I can tell you've injured it. I'm surprised you're fighting anything that could get through enchanted plate, you fought a drake or something?"."It was a troll""A troll? Ha, must've been one hell of a troll to catch someone off guard like that. Are you sure you didn't just trip?"Harold was somewhat annoyed by the teasing, "Shouldn't you go rest old man? You might not be able to get up tomorrow if you don't get out of that armor soon"Thomas grins as he turns to leave "Watch your tongue brat, little children shouldn't be saying such things to their elders". He's gone before Harold could get one final comment in.Harold sighs in exasperation. It seemed like there's something about frontier veterans and snark. He hoped he wouldn't join their ranks in a few decades. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Harold got up at the first sign of light the next day, he had much to do now that he had a few gold pieces to work with. He dug through his belongings to find a set of clean clothes just to remember that he didn't own any, he's been living in his harness for nearly a month. Maybe Vannols' comment on him being a golem had some merit after all.Surprisingly enough, both Thomas and Evelin were also up and outside. He supposed that rural folk worked with very different clocks than those from the city. "Good morning, Sir Thomas, Lady Evelin"."Good morning!" Evelin replied with a bright smile on her face."Good morning, I know you said you don't get tired walking around in your armor all day. But do you really need to have it on before breakfast? Surely you aren't heading out to slay anymore trolls at this time of day" Thomas said with utter exasperation. Harold responds with an awkward laugh."Trust me, I'm working on it"The veteran eyes him skeptically for a moment before sighing and heading towards the other tenants' cabins, likely to get them up for the day of work ahead."Lady Evelin, do you have anything planned for the day ahead?" he asked.She seemed surprised by the question "Not particularly, why?""I was planning to head into Alanfer today, I was just wondering if you would be willing to show me around"She responds the moment he finishes "I'd love to! I'll go ask father for permission" Evelin runs off faster than Atlas to catch up with Thomas.With how far away he was Harold couldn't hear what was actually being said, but he could tell the general progress of the conversation. Denial from Thomas, Evelin gets angry… Now she appears to be begging… Thomas glares in his direction before finally relenting.Evelin runs back with a huge smile on her face. "It took the puppy eyes but father finally bent the knee. He said we could take the wagon and the workhorses there.""Quite gracious of him, hopefully I didn't cause too much conflict. It wouldn't do for family to argue because of my selfish request" The hypocrisy of his statement wasn't lost on him."Don't worry about it, father is being overprotective is all. We needed to make a supply trip to the city anyway, I can show you around the markets while we're there""Thank you, Lady Evelin" --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was the first time Harold was driving a wagon; it was somewhat awkward to control two work horses at once. War horses were temperamental, they were trained to kick and bite on command but riding them often meant a constant struggle for control.Riding horses were much calmer and were always an absolute joy to ride. To an experienced rider like Harold it sometimes felt as though some horses were trained to be entertainers.From his very limited experience of driving a wagon, work horses appeared to be stoic, reliable and obedient. He'd say they'd make excellent war mounts, but they were a little slow due to their size and he didn't fancy doing the splits while fighting.Atlas on the other hand was the perfect mount. He was calm while travelling yet unflinching in battle, obedient to a fault and had a near endless well of stamina. Even if Atlas was much smaller than work horses, he knew he'd put his money on Atlas being stronger (No, he totally wasn't biased). Harold had to thank God for blessing him with such a mount when he had simply grabbed the first horse saw in the stables while running from home.'Heh, look at me thinking about horses while a comely flower sits next to me. I suppose the frontier has a way of changing people'"Lady Evelin, I realize now that I know very little of you. Would you be willing to enlighten me?"A thoughtful look crossed her face. "About myself? Truth be told, I don't know if there's much to share. Unlike you and father I've hardly ever travelled, I've spent my entire life cooped up in the farmstead with the occasional trip to Alanfer. Father's always been very protective of me""May I ask if there's a reason why he seems so reluctant to let you out? You're seventeen right? That means you reached adulthood a year ago" As a third son he's always been let off easier in comparison to his older brothers. He was sent off to live and learn by himself upon reaching fifteen and he's been free to travel through the dukedom of his family as he pleases even since."It didn't used to be as bad, he once promised to take me on an adventure and show me the world when I reached fifteen but… my mother was killed in a bandit raid four years ago and…" She goes quite soon after, unable to finish her sentence."I'm sorry, it was insensitive of me to ask""No, don't worry about it. It was a long time ago. What about you? Your family I mean.""Both of my parents are alive, I have two older brothers and a younger sister but… I never really got to spend time with them. Both of my brothers were personal wards of my father while my sister was personally tutored by my mother as the only daughter. I was free to do whatever I wanted and I was rarely included in courtly matters. I'd say I was neglected but… I guess in many ways I was the one to push away my siblings. I was never a good brother, now that I think about it… I ran from home, a month ago" Harold expected Evelin to be angry. It would be completely reasonable. She had lost her mother to tragedy, and here he was running away from the very thing that was taken away from her by force.The rage he was waiting for never arrives. Instead, Evelin looks at him with a smile, yet her eyes undoubtedly hold a deep sadness within. "You should go back someday. We don't get to pick who we were born to, but the family we're given is the only one we'll ever have"Silence falls after that, until Harold responds with a resolute nod. He thought he could see the slightest bit of happiness shine through Evelin's sad eyes at his response. The girl he was sitting next to was truly a saint.After a long moment spent pondering, Harold finally builds up the courage to take out the ring of his house. He puts it on with bated breath and…A soft red glow can be seen. The edges of Harolds' mouth turn ever so slightly upwards to form a small smile.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

In many ways, commoners on the frontier had it much easier than those who lived in other regions of southern humanity. Taxes were low to pull immigrants for the sake of increasing manpower reserves. Work was plentiful, an able body was all you needed to sign up for the reserve and those with talent had the chance to rise the ranks thanks to the highly meritocratic system of the frontier military. One didn't even need to have a career in the military if you were merely looking to live a simple, honest life. The massive number of soldiers meant supplies and services would always be in high demand, even a simple farmer such as Patt could live with a roof over his head, have a full belly every night, and were even able to save up for luxuries like silk and fine wine. But frontier life wasn't without disadvantages, the main one being caused by the same thing that enabled greater living standards in the first place: the military. With the number of men signing up to be soldiers there are bound to be some who had ambition for riches but didn't have the talent to achieve it through proper means. Such people would turn to banditry. They couldn't stick around for long with the garrison's presence across the entire region, but they could make off with a single grand heist after robbing a rich frontier village. That's why the land of Sir Thomas was so idyllic, no bandit would be willing to attempt an attack on a farmstead that had a fully armored knight patrolling every day. Every tenant, including Patt, was truly grateful for his protection. They'd be willing to march to war should Sir Thomas ask them to do so. All that's to say, Patt respected Sir Thomas with every fiber of his being. And that respect was being tested to its very limits at this moment. "Preposterous! He shows up unannounced""Why announce his arrival to a farmstead?""Lives on my land" "Didn't you agree to it?""And dares to charm my daughter and turn her against me!"Patt could feel a headache forming, and it wasn't because of the afternoon sun. "I'd hardly call taking her to Alanfer 'turning her against you'. Didn't you have an argument with Evelin just a week ago about you being overprotective? She's travelling with a knight, and he's a Lyon to boot? Aren't you acquainted with their current head? You always sing his praises whenever Lord Aberlin gets brought up" "Firstly, he isn't a knight, he's currently a mercenary! And just because he's a Lyon doesn't mean he is of the same ilk as Aberlin." Patt could only sigh in utter exasperation, Thomas was smart, but he could be more stubborn than a mule whenever Evelin was involved. "You have to let go Thomas; Evelin is an adult now. She should at least be able to travel with one of the first friends she's made in years, as far as I can tell they seemed to be getting along swimmingly…" he didn't have the chance to finish. "That's exactly the problem! Think about it, Patt. A handsome well-spoken noble who's likely had his fair share of women shows up and sweeps her off her feet. My poor girl will get smitten just to get thrown away after his fancy passes!" "As innocent as she may be Evelin is a smart girl and a good judge of character. She'll be fine Thomas, you're overreacting. Besides, from what I saw you seemed to be getting along with Sir Harold like a house on fire, surely you would've been able to tell if he was someone willing take advantage of her." Thomas grumbles, unable to form a response to the bastion of logic that is Patt. He had to remind himself that the man was once a quartermaster, there's no winning against arguments against snakes like them. "Even so, I just don't like it. There's something hidden in those blood red eyes Patt, something not quite human" "Well now you're just making up excuses, and you have the exact same shade of eyes! Relax Thomas, it's just one trip to the city. What could possibly go wrong?" --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "GET BACK HERE!" Everything has gone wrong. Just five minutes since they've passed the city gates and he's already gotten pickpocketed. Well, 'pickpocketed' isn't quite the right word. It was closer to a snatch and run. The thief must've thought that Harold would be unable to catch up to him with his armor on, but he would show him the mistake of underestimating a knight. Harold was rapidly reducing the distance between them, and he could tell that the thief was getting desperate. The thief made several sharp turns among merchant stalls in an attempt to shake him off, once even jumping over one. Harold on the other hand was like a steel bull with his armor on, he charged through stalls, threw people across the street as he struggled to make sharp turns and destroyed merchandise in his fury. Eventually, the thief makes a mistake. He turns a corner into a dead end, and the raging knight has him cornered. The thief makes one last desperate attempt at escape, trying to run past Harold. In a single moment the thief is tackled to the ground… and Harold sees red. Harold brings his fist down upon the thief's face. He felt something crack, he could hear the thief begging for mercy beneath him. He brings his fist down once more. Everything becomes a haze of anger. He thought he could hear someone begging him to stop behind him. He ignores them and brings his first down once again. More yelling, irrelevant. Just as he raises his arm in preparation for a fourth strike, someone else places themself between him and his target. "Please sir knight, you have your purse back, surely you could spare this poor man's life. Just hand him over to the guards. P-Please, I beg of you." Harold could see fear in the woman's eyes and that she was shaking from terror. The thief lies on the ground, sobbing like a child. His broken face could barely be recognized as a humans' and blood dripped from Harold's gauntlets. He turns to leave just to see that a crowd has gathered behind him. Men stood in front of their families protectively as mothers tried to soothe their crying children. They all parted before him as he left, some ran away; even the guards seemed spooked. The scene felt all too familiar, just like his final day at the academy. Yet, just like before, Harold felt no guilt. Rather, the dripping of blood created a vague sense of accomplishment before settling down into disappointment at the weakness of his foe. 'Pathetic' is the only word to cross his mind. He didn't wish to dig any deeper into his thoughts, lest he see the source of such an ugly thought, unbefitting one of his station. So he did what he did best, he ran away, with the excuse that Evelin was waiting for him. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thankfully Evelin was still waiting for him in the carriage. He had cleaned his gauntlets and recomposed himself on the way back. He was once again the knight that Evelin knew. "Did you manage to get your purse back?" "Yes, if anyone dares to think that I'm slow just because I'm in armor they'll find out that they're sorely mistaken" "You didn't hurt him too badly did you?" Harold pushes the image of the broken thief lying on the ground out of his mind. "Not a scratch on his body, I gave him up for the guards to handle." It was very technically the truth, the thief was (badly) bruised, not scratched or cut. "Thank goodness, I was really scared there for a moment." Harold flashes her a smile "Thank you for your concern, my lady. Should we move on? I believe we have many stalls to visit." Evelin returns the smile "Let's" The rest of the trip goes as planned with no incidents. Alanfer is a bustling metropolis and was the economic and trade hub of the region. The pair of them visit stores for essential supplies for Harold and the village; clothes, spices, tools, furniture and the like. They went to higher districts with the intention of doing some window shopping, but Harold ended up buying an orchid hairpin for Evelin. The crimson blush and the hushed 'thank you' made the five silver more than worth it. He really had to figure out how she's able to bring so much blood to her head without passing out. Their trip through the city ended with the two of them stuffing their faces with various street foods, even if the prices meant it was practically highway robbery.Harold offered his date a wineskin, spiced just the way he likes it, as they made their way back home. "Want any?" She looked at his offer with a very pensive face before finally accepting. A surprised look crossed her face after the first sip. "It's good. What's this?" Harold smirked in pride, he had good tastes after all. "Eastern grape wine mixed with Ghana spice. It's a light drink, perfect for a long road. Surely this isn't your first time having wine." Evelin shook her head. "No, but it's the first time I'm enjoying it. P-perhaps it's simply due to the company?" Her voice slightly shook with the awkward attempt at flirting. "In that case, it appears as though you have ruined every future drink I will partake in! Even divine nectar brewed by God himself would surely be found lacking without you to accompany it." He ended it with a charming smile and a wink. The girl furiously blushed before hiding herself behind her sleeves, holding back his laughter was the greatest test of will he had to endure yet. She'd need to spend at least a century meditating if she wished to challenge him in a duel of coquetry.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

32nd day of Humanus, Day 1 of writing. Thank you Evelin for this kind gift.
 
 Though I was reluctant at first, I decided to try writing a diary since Evelin suggested it. She bought it as a gift for me yesterday while we were on our trip (date?) to Alanfer. I wanted the first page to be special but I’ve given up after a dozen crumpled papers. I’ve also decided to ditch any attempt at ‘writing with manners’ as professor Langford used to say. I’m sure old ‘Dullford’ would be furious (but really, when is he not?) if he read this, but he’s the last person I’d show my diary to.
 
 After waking up this morning with a clear head and an empty wineskin, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve grossly overestimated my ability to budget. I’m almost out of money once again. It truly was a shock to wake up with only three silver in my pouch when I had six gold the day prior.
 
 I have also come to the conclusion that I would make a terrible quartermaster, as I have forgotten to buy food. Sergeant Garric (or was it Marshal Garric? Why couldn’t he just be called professor like every other teacher?) would’ve strangled me if he found out, and I’m sure Vannol would laugh his ass off as he did so. 
 
 Huh, Since when did those two get linked in my mind? I guess their manner of teaching is fairly similar, but Sergeant Garric should learn to relax once in a red moon while Vannol could use at least a single class on etiquette (maybe a whole semester actually, though I doubt even that would be enough).
 
 Either way I’m an idiot. Thankfully the housewarming gifts of my new neighbors were mostly food, so I got through the day just fine. 
 
 What was I writing about? Finances, right. So what did I spend 57 silver on? Well, I’m proud to say that all of them were used on well thought out purchases that are absolutely necessary to my day-to-day life. Yesterday’s purchases include:
 
-A new bed, thick blankets and a feather pillow.

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

-Some new clothes

-A whetstone

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

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

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

-A new lance

-Street food (an army marches on its stomach)

-Spiced wine (absolutely necessary for troop morale)

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

-A tiny iron padlock with no key (I really can’t explain the reasoning behind this one, might’ve been slightly buzzed when I bought the damned thing off of that merchant on the road)

-Now that I’ve reread the last few items I’m considering handing my purse to Atlas, he’d probably do a better job of managing it than I.
 
 I was able to move everything in and give the cabin another checkover. I realized that the quick cleaning I did on the day I arrived was wholly insufficient. The cabin is much larger than I first realized. 
 
 Two bedrooms, a kitchen, a backyard, and a cellar—big enough for a family. Considering Evelin’s mention of her mother, I’d guess that this place was under attack at some point.
 
 I was just about finished with (re)cleaning when a battalion of children—the same ones from before—stormed my house, practically demanding me to tell them a story. They seemed quite disappointed to see me outside of my armor, I suppose I don’t make as much of an imposing sight without it.
 
 I retold them my fight with the troll. I evidently wasn’t very good at entertaining children because they stormed out just 10 minutes later, claiming that Sir Thomas told much better stories than I did. My pride wasn’t shattered, nope, not at all. If Evelin or Patt ever says otherwise, know that the two of them are bold faced liars.
 
 I ended the day doing something I’m far more comfortable with, maintaining my equipment. Armor could always use a scrub and a sword could always use some sharpening. It's an eternal task that helps one relax, I’d go so far as to claim it's meditative.

Notes for tomorrow: -Let shoulder rest properly

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

-Buy food (very important!!!)

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

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

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

A week, he decided that he’d rest his shoulder for a week. It was a short period of time, yet it felt much longer than that. He started patrolling with Thomas, Atlas would grow frustrated if he had no way of burning energy, and it wouldn’t do for his new lodgings were to get attacked. He also met with Evelin everyday to read together. Books weren't exactly his favourite pastime, but the company more than made up for it. The girl could explain to him how grass grows and he’d probably find himself listening attentively.
 
 Other than that, there was one disastrous attempt at cooking that nobody thankfully found out about, and his daily training drills. The children seemed to enjoy watching his mounted maneuvers. Thankfully, he had finally learned to deal with them, to a certain extent. Memorising their individual names and who their parents are helped a lot, he could threaten parental discipline if they started touching his equipment without permission.
 
 A method of dealing with a volley of questions still eluded him, but he was sure he’d find a counter to that particular tactic soon enough.
 
 His life had finally settled down into a daily rhythm, and he was glad for that. 
 
  But soon enough the ever crushing feeling of boredom began to set in. Despite it only having been a few days, he began to count the sunrises left before his full recovery. He almost stormed out to Alanfer on the sixth day, but managed to hold himself back since there was only one remaining, and a Lyon never goes back on their word, even if it was merely a promise to themselves.
 
 It was strange, he was desperate for a fight, yet he never had such issues during his four years at the academy. It felt as though something awoke within him after his first kill during his contract with Vannol. He felt like an addict that needed his fix, his daily drills only seeming to accentuate the problem. 
 
 As he swung his sword he could imagine a foe being felled and their blood flowing down his blade before seeping into the ground,

drip by drip

. Their body would grow cold and pale as a puddle of red formed underneath. In its reflection he could see his own red eyes, yet it was no longer the brilliant ruby on his ring, but rather a lake of swirling red, not so different from the pond that reflected it.
 
 On the seventh day he nearly broke down the door of the Alanfer guild as he rushed in before recomposing himself after receiving startled glances from the people within. The contracts offered were different from the week prior, even if similar in nature. The only expectations being the higher-end council work such as expeditions and extermination orders. Supposedly those have been around for years.
 
 After a short period of consideration, he decides on a contract.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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

Sure,

over thirty people tried to take up the contract, but none of them were suitable. She needed someone who could travel quickly yet was still capable of defending her by themselves from entire ant work parties. They also had to be educated, god knows how much faster research goes if you have someone to bounce off ideas from, even if they couldn’t contribute anything truly useful.
 
 Someone good looking would also be preferable, she’ll get that paper on the positive link between sexy partne—

ahem

environmental beauty and intellectual productiveness approved by the executives one day, the institute couldn’t hide from the truth forever!
 
 But after a week of waiting, she’s at the point where she’ll take anyone who could fulfil just the first two requirements. Loved as she may be, she didn’t want to test the patience of the old coots back west, she had to bring results within a month if she wished to keep funding up.
 
 Her thoughts are disturbed by someone setting down a parchment of paper in front of her. She instantly recognizes it as the notice she posted.
 
 “I’m interested in your contract, an expedition near central Altena is it?”
 
 She tried not to squeal in happiness the moment she took in the person in question. He had very high quality equipment, which also likely meant he’s a noble—someone with a formal education. He was also quite handsome, sharp features complemented by an untouched, clean skin; his eyes were like a pair of gems encrusted on a silver piece of jewelry, drawing her in with their unique intensity.
 
 Divara takes in a deep breath to calm herself, looks could be deceiving, she needed to further investigate before entrusting her safety to him.
 
 “Yes, that's correct. I’m Divara from the house of Valcairn, you are?”
 
 “Excuse my rudeness for not introducing myself earlier, I’m Harold of house Lyon”
 
 “Lyon? I’m surprised to be in the presence of someone from such a famed house, though some would use infamous instead” Harold slightly flinched at the last part, his family was nothing if controversial.
 
 “Well, I suppose one could say there was some trouble back home. Nothing serious enough for a western noble to worry about”
 
 It seems like she’s already been identified, definitely had a decent head on his shoulders.
 
 “I suppose so. It has little to do with the matters that are to be discussed here. I was sent by the western institute of technology to study a small nest of leafcutter ants that have taken root in western central Altena”
 
 “A leafcutter nest?! So close to the frontier? Shouldn’t the council be notified of this?”
 
 “Of course the council knows, the army ant swarm is heading in its direction so the fledgling colony won’t survive the month anyway. Militarily speaking this nest means very little. Research wise? It’s a great opportunity to study a species of ants that mostly lives on the other side of the Altena Forest, beyond the silver dragon. Studies on leaf cutters normally require a massive expedition and extensive planning, this is a golden opportunity for me to break into academia while spending relatively little resources”
 
 He gained a thoughtful expression “So you’re telling me that this is an extremely important expedition for you? I’m guessing you’re not just taking anyone as your aide then”
 
 Divara cheered inside, it felt good when a conversation partner was able to keep up. “Correct. Firstly, what are your achievements and how experienced are you?”
 
 “I’ve been training in swordsmanship and riding since I was five, my most recent contract involved eliminating a 5 ton troll”
 
 She hummed, impressive. “Do you have a formal education?”
 
 “I studied at the eastern independent academy from fifteen to nineteen, I didn’t complete my education but I only had a single year left before leaving. Aside from core classes my education was mostly geared towards a military career”
 
 A dropout? And his field of study wasn’t exactly ideal for what she had in mind, but it was much better than nothing. 
 
 “Do you have a mount?”
 
 “I can assure you that my steed is second to none”
 
 Divara took a moment to think, excusing the action by taking a sip of wine. He wasn’t exactly perfect, but she really doubted she’d find anyone more suitable within a reasonable timeframe. 
 
 “We’ll leave from Arlon gate tomorrow, arrive there at first light. We have a lot of ground to cover, also prepare enough supplies to get you through at least three weeks” She held out her hand, he didn’t shake it. Instead sitting down across the table.
 
 “Now, about pay” He flashed a very charming smile as he said those three words, her heart might’ve raced had it not been for the wolfish tone. A shiver went down her back instead, she wasn’t going to like this was she?
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 Divara woke up the next day still feeling violated. In hindsight, speaking about the importance of the expedition so freely was an idiotic move on her part; Lyon ended up squeezing out an exorbitant daily rate. She could pay it no problem, institutional funding was no joke, but it still felt shameful to be completely out negotiated.
 
 Waiting at Arlon gate, she greeted her new companion with the harshest glare she could muster. “You’re late” she said, her words dripping with venom.
 
 He seemed completely unphased. “No I’m not, there’s still 10 minutes left until our agreed time.”
 
 He was technically right, but Divara was anything if not stubborn. “For one gold per day? I expect you to show up an hour early with tea and biscuits prepared”
 
 Harold rolled his eyes in exasperation “I’ll make sure to keep that in mind next time

princess

Divara. Should we set out? I’m fully prepared to leave”
 
 “Same here, we should leave as soon as possible. Help me up on my horse.” She said, assuming a stance that exuded haughtiness, chin raised, hand on hip, weight shifted onto one leg with eyes half closed. All carefully calculated with the goal of annoying Harold, and it was working wonderfully.
 
 The knight arched his eyebrows in response “Can’t do it yourself? Are you sure you’ll be able to survive the trip ahead if you can’t even do something as simple as mounting a horse?”
 
 “I can, this is more for your sake than anything. Not everyday a brute like you gets to touch the hands of a supposed

princess

.” She said, throwing his earlier barb back at him. 
 
 Harold’s body stiffened at the word ‘brute’, Vannol and Divara must

never

meet. It presents the risk of the title becoming permanent. 
 
 He sighs loudly while dismounting Atlas, making sure that his annoyance is clearly known to his employer. Reaching out with his hands he gently helps Divara up, he couldn’t afford to give her anymore ammunition. His mental well being may very well depend on it.
 
 “Let us go then, we need to make enough distance to leave the reaches of army ant scouting parties. I look forward to working with you, Sir

brute.

…He was already starting to have regrets.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The Great Forest of Altena was truly a wonder of nature. It stretched out for thousands of kilometers beyond the frontier walls, its true scope still unknown to humanity, even to the elven clans that once dwelled within.
 
 It’s a land that’s been fought over for many a millenia. Billions of ants, millions of humans and thousands of elves have likely fallen within its borders, all on a quest to take command of its great bounty; both from the vegetation above and the riches below its soil.
 
 Harold still felt a sense of amazement while traversing the forest, there was no water for miles around yet the air was still thick with moisture, if he focused he could hear thousands of critters going about their daily routines. The sun couldn’t be seen through the foliage, yet the trees held an otherworldly glow that lit up their surroundings.

This amazement didn’t stop him from getting annoyed when his employer stopped for the sixth time in the last hour to take samples from surrounding plants. Mumbling things he couldn’t quite understand even if he knew all the words being spoken.
 
 “Hmm, still the same signature… strange, very strange. That could be explained by my theory but the marked reserve still doesn’t make sense… I didn’t quite believe it when I first read about it, but it seems like all plants within the forest undergo mana interexchange somehow, perhaps a form of fungi web? But for it to stretch out over 20km…”
 
 This mumbling session was taking particularly long, Divara even took out her notebook to start jotting things down. They were probably going to be here for a while.
 
 “Is this really necessary?” He knew it was stupid to hurry her, the longer she spent the more he got paid after all, but he was finding his patience stretched thin. 
 
 “What do you mean?” she asked, still not taking her eyes off of her notebook.
 
 “Stopping every few minutes to observe plants, what need could there possibly be for this”
 
 She stopped and gained a thoughtful expression, tilting her head and looking up to think. He noticed she had a habit of doing that whenever something stumps her.
 
 “I guess there is no need actually, all of this is very well documented even if unexplained. I guess I just wanted to confirm it for myself. Maybe I’ll try to craft a hypothesis about mana exchange after this whole thing with the ant nest is done with. Now quite! I’m thinking”
 
 Harold could only sigh in response, Divara was the one paying after all.  With nothing to do he could only observe her as she continued to write in her notebook. With her pretty round face, dark blue hair and clear auburn irises, he’d probably have found her strange habits charming had it not been for her constant active attempts at annoying him.
 
 “I’m done, help me up onto my horse, Sir Brute” That one phrase haunted him the most.
 
 “Would you be willing to stop calling me that?”
 
 “No”
 
 For the umpteenth time that day Harold sighed out his lungs as he dismounted Atlas, and for the umpteenth time raised Divara up onto her horse.
 
 For the umpteenth time Divara felt a sense of petty satisfaction. She’d have stopped by now had it not been for his overdramatic sighs, a dead joke isn’t really her style, but he kept managing to breathe life into it.
 
 So their strange routine went on for a few hours more, until the sun reached its peak and began to shine in its unique grossly incandescent manner, managing to shine through the treeline above.
 
 They decided to stop and have lunch around the same time. The horses needed rest and the heat of the sun would drain their stamina if they kept moving. Unfortunately, neither of them knew how to cook nor did they know how to forage. Dried meat and goat cheese it was then, he was starting to miss his short outing with Vannol, if only for the one bowl of soup he had on that last night. He swore that he’d learn to cook soon enough, if only so he wouldn’t have to chew on jerky swimming in a sea of salt ever again.
 
 “So, what’re you trying to confirm for yourself exactly?” He asked, mostly to break the silence.
 
 “A lot of things actually. Altena is very unique, and I don’t just mean the sheer scale of it. The entire forest is its own ecosystem, almost completely separate from the outside world. The vegetation of Altena grows nowhere else when planted, and foreign species of plants die when planted in Altena. People used to think it had something to do with the soil, but recent studies have proven that false. Furthermore, plants of Altena grow extremely quickly, unnaturally so, it's the reason why the forest has been so hotly contested for a millennium”
 
 Harold didn’t know any of this, he did however remember there being a specific class at the academy purely dedicated to the Altena forest. Apparently this is one of the reasons why.
 
 “So, why is that the case then? Is it something unique to the location or the weather?”
 
 Divara grinned like a wolf. “That’s the thing, we don’t know. A thousand years of study and we still don’t really know why Altena is the way it is. The elves claim its because of a divine spirit, the southern church attributes it to God, I think it’s because the plant life here can use mana to cast rudimentary spells”
 
 “You’re saying the plants around us are mages? Surely not. I studied magic and was declared inept at it. My teachers said it requires a certain state of mind, something I’m fairly certain

plants

don’t have” It was quite frankly offensive to consider the idea that these plants had more talent in magic than most of humanity.

“

But,

who said that has to be the case? It’s been believed that magic is cast by using one’s will to bend the mana within the body. The idea has held true for most theories but there’s no actual proof! We don’t know

how

magic is cast, we only know the method for doing it.

If

our idea of magic has been completely wrong for thousands of years, Altena could be the key to the truth! It’s the entire reason I dedicated my life to studying this forest!”
 
 Divara’s face turned sour, “

It’s why I’ve sacrificed so much to be here

” she whispered out, it likely wasn’t meant for his ears, but he heard it nevertheless. 
 
 He felt a sense of camaraderie begin to form for the mage in front of him. They were both nobles far from home, trying to pursue their own personal goals, even if hers were clearly far more well defined compared to his. 
 
 He decided to push her further, she seemed to be enjoying talking about the mystical place they were in, better that than dwelling on the path walked to arrive here. “What makes you think that the vegetation here is using mana? Why wouldn’t other plants do the same?”
 
 She regained the fire in her eyes as she continued “The plants here? They all have the same mana signature. Every living being produces mana in some way, but their frequencies slightly change from individual to individual.

Except

the vegetation in Altena, there is

something,

I don’t know what exactly but

something,

that allows that to be the case. As for the second question, we don’t know. But I have a hypothesis that it has something to do with what I call ley-lines, blood vessels of the world itself that strengthen at some places to create massive pools of mana below the ground. I believe that the vegetation here draws upon those ley-lines to fuel their growth, and they all have the same signature because they’re all drawing from the same river of mana rather than using their own!”
 
 Harold smirked in amusement, who knew someone could have such a passion for plants? Even if he didn’t really get what the excitement is for, Divara’s enthusiasm was infectious.
 
 “In that case, we’ll have to make sure this expedition goes as well as possible don’t we? Maybe you’ll be able to get the support needed to reach your goal if we manage to find out something new from these leaf cutters” he extended his hand out to his companion.
 
 “Here’s to happy research”
 
 Divara gained a toothy smirk. “To successful research” she shook his hand.
 
 Her auburn irises gained a mischievous glint. “You know, I’m surprised Sir Brute is such a good partner for conversation, maybe I’ll have to stop calling you that…then again, I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea. You might start thinking you have

manners

”
 
 The person in question gave her a deadpan look “

You

want to talk to me about manners? Really?”
 
 “Hey, I’m not the one who supposedly caved in an ant’s skull with their bare hands”
 
 His eyes widened in shock ‘

How does she know that?!

’

Divara’s grin turned feral, reminding Harold of a blue furred wolf “So you are the one! You’re the one that old crossbowman was blabbering about!”
 
 It felt like Harold was about to have a stroke, it seems like he had failed his quest of preventing a meeting between Vannol and Divara long before he even began. It seemed like he would be known as Sir Harold the ‘brute’ for the foreseeable future. Someone was going to die for this.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Apparently that someone was an army ant scouting party. He really shouldn’t have been surprised when they got attacked while Divara was in one of her mumbling sessions. They’ve nearly doubled their travel time with how often they were stopping, they were bound to get noticed eventually.
 
 He really shouldn’t have been surprised, but it wasn’t exactly easy to stay calm when three giant ants fell on you from above. Atlas was

not

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

especially

not against Atlas.
 
 The third ant was quickly dispatched by Harold’s sword. Despite the embarrassment of being thrown off his mount like an amateur stable boy, it felt good to have something flowing down his blade, even if it wasn’t exactly blood. These feelings were noticed and were promptly ignored.
 
 “Well, you certainly weren’t lying about having the finest mount in all the lands, his rider on the other hand seems to be a little too desperate to wrestle an ant, jumping down like that. Makes me wonder whether I should’ve hired just the mount, he’s definitely more civilised compared to his rider”
 
 His companion’s words were also ignored, he had taken up a policy of neither feeding nor trying to put out the fire in the hopes that it’ll burn out on its own.
 
 “We seriously need to get a move on, you can have your samples after we get out of army ant territory”
 
 She thought for a moment before sighing, “I suppose you’re right. I have most of what I need anyway”
 
 Harold smirked, his heart bursting with satisfaction as he remounted Atlas, she was starting to actually listen to him! Soon enough he’ll have her eating out of his palms (literally if his quest for learning to cook comes to fruition within the next few weeks). 
 
 Divara seemed to have noticed his good mood, staring at him with one eyebrow raised before turning around and continuing down their path. They left the corpses unburned, there was no need to do so when their death pheromones would only pull the swarm in the same direction it was already moving towards, away from the frontier.
 
 “So, why do these roads exist anyways? I’m guessing the forest doesn’t naturally create convenient infrastructure for humans to traverse through” he asked.
 
 “It’s made by ants” Divara replied. “Leaf cutters more specifically, they used to be the uncontested rulers of Altena before the frontier was established. They were surrounded on all sides by humans, elves and army ants; the campaign against leaf cutters was hardly a fair fight, but it still took centuries to exterminate them. Even now the supercolony beyond the silver dragon’s territory still stands, making leaf cutters still the largest force in Altena”

“Well I know that” his history education lightly glanced over the campaign against leaf cutters “

How

do they do it? Altena with its quick growth should’ve retaken these paths long ago”
 
 “That, we still don’t know. Some people like to act all high and mighty, lording their intelligence over the ant hordes, but there’s much we still have to learn from them. Most of my teachers agree that ants naturally have a far better understanding of magic in comparison to humans”
 
 “Hmm” Not the clear cut answer he was hoping for, he supposed that’s why they were trying to study these creatures in the first place.
 
  Such small conversations filled most of their travels, they didn’t really have much else to talk about, and Divara seemed to be enjoying them. Harold was as well, though he would never openly admit it, only a barrage of teasing awaited if he did so.
 
 The sun eventually set, the glow of the trees dying down along with it, another one of the mysteries of great Altena. They marched onward nevertheless, they had a lot of ground to cover. They were marching through an overgrowth tunnel, with only the faint glow of lanterns to light up their path their current surroundings could’ve been mistaken for an underground cavern. The only thing dissuading such a notion was the warm breeze and the smell of nature.
 
 The forest was quite overgrown in general, but the wooden walls of an overgrowth tunnel was thick enough to prevent passage through it entirely. Pike formations were employed in these passageways to decimate leaf cutter minor and mediae work parties, at least until the majors showed up. 
 
 Majors, the dreaded soldiers of leaf cutters, he’s read through many terrified accounts of their strength and size. He was itching to find out whether he and Atlas can drive a lance through their armored bodies or not.
 
 He’ll find out soon enough when they arrive at their destination.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 The next day was mostly calm, ignoring one attack from a pack of grey wolves. It was actually a good sign to encounter predators other than army ants, it meant they’ve likely left the reach of their scouting parties.
 
 The pack fled after one of their brethren was cut down and another one’s skull was cracked open like an egg by hooves. Divara felt the need to remark on the fact that his horse still had a higher body count than he did. He responded by apologising to her for killing her brethren, noting her wolfish smirk and sharp canines.
 
 The number of trees actually lessened as they went deeper into the forest, but their size increased exponentially. By the time they arrived at their destination the trees were tall enough to completely tower over even the great frontier walls. 
 
 Massive trunks of wood stretched over one hundred meters into the air, spreading out into branches larger than entire trees from back home. Leaves cast great shadows down upon them, the sky having turned into a great expanse of green rather than blue. 
 
 This was Riesegen Baum, the former center of the elven clans and now the base of operations of a fledgling leaf cutter ant nest.
 
 Even from down here he could see the trail, stretching out over branches and vines connected by bridges formed of ant bodies. Thousands of minor and mediae workers cut and carried leaves several meters in length, their foraging trail going out as far as the eye could see, into a colony that was likely an underground masterpiece of engineering larger than even the dwarven forts of the Otgon mountains.
 
 Breathtaking was the first word to come to his mind, he dismounted Atlas and took a moment to simply take in his surroundings. His serene moment didn’t last very long as Divara suddenly pulled him aside, Atlas followed dutifully as always. 
 
 He was about to question her actions before she pointed towards something in the distance, it was a major. He felt the word didn’t quite do it justice, ‘humongous’ probably would've fit much better. Between a troll and a major, he couldn’t tell which one was bigger, but he definitely knew which one was deadlier. 
 
 The head of the major bulged with muscles, its mandibles glistening in the sun as they rapidly clicked together, the accounts of these things chewing through chainmail in seconds suddenly didn’t feel so impossible anymore. But any threat its weapons created was secondary to a major’s main feature.
 
 Their exoskeleton gleaned, shining like a plate of metal. The reason for its metallic appearance was simple, it

was

metal. Leaf cutters are one of the few species capable of advanced metallurgy, the exact specifics were vague but they used acids to purify ores dug out of the ground to plaster over their majors, forming a thin but formidable armor that’s become one of the main reasons why leaf cutter colonies were so dangerous.
 
 Harold found himself not being scared in the slightest, he had experience with large armored creatures, a single gap was all he needed. Leaf cutter metallurgy was advanced, but their designs certainly weren't. He could see gaps between the plates of metal made to allow movement, that’s where he’ll strike should he be forced to fight one.

When

he is forced to fight one, he doubted they’ll be able to avoid conflict during their multi week stay, and leafcutters are renown for being territorial.
 
 Divara tugged on his arm before whispering into his ears, “Look! A scouting party’s broken off the main trail” she pointed at a Major leading three mediae heading north.
 
 “Let’s ambush them”
 
 Harold was flabbergasted “What? Really?”
 
 “Yeah, I want to study the plate on that major, nobody’s gotten to see a fresh one still on the body for a long time, this is a big deal!” Divara said to him, showing off her iconic smirk.
 
 Every bit of his training on battlefield tactics told him that this was a terrible idea. They didn’t have a camp to fallback to, they didn’t know the surrounding area, hell they didn’t even know if there was another foraging trail nearby in the direction the small group is headed towards.
 
 But he was itching for a fight, and Divara’s smirk had an aura of invincibility, he nodded along despite the foolishness of such an action. 
 
 The pair of them followed after the four ants, keeping them in sight while still maintaining enough distance to avoid being detected. After deeming that they’ve made enough distance from the trail, Harold charged.
 
 Just like always, walk, trot, canter, gallop. A cloud of dust behind, a glistening lance upfront with the strength of a warhorse backing it up. He intended to kill the major in a single hit, the giant creature turned around just as Harold came within striking distance, too late to dodge now. He lowered his lance, aiming at a gap between the plates.
 
 The major did, in fact, not dodge. But Harold still failed to reach his desired decisive victory. The major slightly turned its head to the right, Harold’s lance made connection but failed to pierce, instead sliding off of plate reinforced exoskeleton.
 
 ‘Tsk’ he failed, but he was the best jouster at the academy for a reason, his redirected lance found connection in a mediae while another was trampled under Atlas. Two left.
 
 He turned around after distancing himself to see the major charging him while the last mediae approached Divara.
 
 “Don’t worry about me! Deal with the major” She yelled, he could already see energy gathering in her hands as she chanted in a language he didn’t know. He was far more concerned about the major.
 
 He and Atlas charged once again, Harold was prepared for the major’s tricks this time. His enemy also seemed to understand, as it met the charge head on this time. Harold’s lance got caught in between the plates on its head the moment they made contact, reaching flesh but not piercing deep enough to kill. 
 
 At this moment, Harold’s strong grip worked against him, he flew off his mount while still holding his lance. The ant kept charging, thinking quickly on his feet Harold landed on his feet, legs locked and prepared to push back against the mountain of muscle that was a leafcutter major, however insane the idea of challenging it in a match of strength was.
 
 Expectedly, his push back meant little. His lance was the only thing keeping the two of them apart as Harold slid across the ground, plowing dirt as he went. He let out a blood curdling warcry, his muscles being pushed to their limits as his bones creaked under the charge of the major.
 
 But as he screamed, a primal unnatural well of strength flowed out from within him. The major slowed, losing steam as the opposition increased. Perhaps Harold would’ve been able to stop the beast entirely, had it not been for him being slammed against a tree.
 
 The lance shattered upon the sudden impact, his back likely would’ve done the same if he didn’t have armor on. Harold drew his sword in a single instant, and an instant later the major had its mandibles locked around his body. He did his best to push it away with his sword, but was no match for the ant bearing down on him.
 
 It slowly sawed through his blade and armor, not even enchanted steel being able to hold up against the relentless assault of chitin for long. One, two, three, four… a painfully long thirteen seconds later the attack ended as an orb of fire hit the major from behind.
 
 The ant turned around as it screeched in pain, it had just locked its eyes onto Divara when—
 
 
‘BANG’
 
 A deafening sound rang out, Harold noted with a dazed mind that Divara appeared to be holding a tube of metal with smoke coming out its end. The leafcutter flailed around in pain as its mighty armor was pierced like paper, in its rage it completely forgot about Harold and charged its new foe.
 
 Divara was just turning around to flee when a storm of arrows flew from above, targeting the legs of the major with masterful precision. The charge that was being wound up screeched to a halt, all six of its legs were disabled.
 
 Harold stabbed his sword between the plates in its head, piercing to the brain and finally killing the raging beast, so that was the might of a leafcutter major.
 
 Harold looked down at his armor, it was already beginning to fill itself back in but it had nearly been pierced. He was seconds away from dying. His blade wasn’t doing much better, it took on the brunt of the attack after all. It had already fixed itself thanks to its enchantment, but he could see the dullness of the part that was used to block.
 
 “Are you okay?” Divara yelled as she rode over, worry clearly evident in her face.
 
 “Never better, almost died is all. You have any other beasts that need dissecting? Maybe a gryphon or a dragon?”
 
 His employer sighed in relief, “Idiot” is all she had to say.
 
 “Well look who it is! If it isn’t Sir Harold the ‘brute’” Harold turned around in shock to see a familiar face. At the head of a small group of elves was a mercenary crossbowman with an annoying smirk smeared across his rugged face.
 
 “Vannol?!”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“Vannol?!” Of all the things Harold had expected to see during this expedition, the old crossbowman was not among them, him being with elves even less so.  “Good to see you again Harold, I know I named you ‘brute’ but trying to wrestle a major is taking it a little too far don’t you think?” He said with a signature look of smugness.  “But to see you again so soon, and in Altena of all places too, small world huh?”  One of the elven rangers spoke up “Mind introducing us?” Harold noted that the elves seemed quite friendly with the mercenary, not particularly common considering the recent state of affairs between humans and elves.  “This is Harold of Lyon, I worked with him a little over a week ago to do the supply run for Wolfhagen. He’s inexperienced, but I can attest he’s a capable fighter”   “And you are?...” Harold asked  The elf didn’t reply immediately, instead whispering something to Vannol. He couldn’t hear them but he did see Vannol nod in response.  “We’re forward scouts of Wolgast, the newly formed united elven clan. We were scouting Reisegen Baum for any chances of future reclamation. I’m Finnor, the leader of this squad” He raised his hands for a handshake. Divara stepped up to shake it before Harold could, she was the leader after all.  “Divara, from the house of Valcairn. I’ve been sent by the western institute of research to study the leaf cutter nest that has taken up root in Reisegen Baum, it seems we are bound for similar goals. Would you be gracious enough to share anything you have learned of the colony?”  As the two of them spoke the rest of the scouts along with Vannol began to dig through the ant corpses.  “What are you doing?” Harold asked.  Vannol replied “Destroying the death sack. Unlike army ants, you don’t actually have to burn the entire corpses of leafcutters to make sure it doesn’t attract other ants, burning just the death sack is enough”  “Why is that?” Vannol shrugged “No idea”  “Teach me”  “Sure”    As it turns out, the smell of a burning death sack isn’t much better than a burning army ant. The elves also grimaced at the aroma, but seemed far more accustomed to it in comparison to him and Vannol. He actually pitied them for having become somewhat used to it at all, that’s what centuries of fighting does to someone he supposed.  Finnor and Divara finished speaking just as they burnt the last sack.  “We’re staying with Finnor and his squad for a few days before they move camps” Divara said, she looked a little upset about the burning of the death sacks, but seemed to accept that it was necessary if they wished to avoid further confrontations with the leaf cutters.  The major was dragged by the horses while the mediae was carried by the elves, Harold and Vannol. Harold grunted in exertion as he slung a mediae over his shoulders, the mediae was much larger than an army ant worker, heavy enough that everyone except Harold had to carry it in pairs.  Divara came up beside him as they walked. “Quite the company we’ve found ourselves, it appears as though the clans aren’t as shattered as the council would have us believe. With the way the Finnor spoke of this ‘Wolgast’ clan, I believe we’re dealing with more than just a small resistance group”  She sighed before ruffling her hair in frustration. “I really didn’t want to get involved in frontier politics, but it appears as though we don’t really have a choice anymore. You’re acquainted with the mercenary, yes? Try to get some information out of him”  Harold could only nod in response, thanks to Divara’s words the precarious nature of their current situation finally set in. Divara was both a member of a noble line and a representative from one of the most powerful institutions in the west.   He on the other hand was from the house of Lyon, his father had enough military power to challenge all other eastern nobles by themselves. Even if he was currently on bad terms with his family, just the potential of having a Lyon on their side was enough to paint a massive mark on his back.

They had to tread carefully. Elves were obviously in a desperate situation, and he didn’t doubt their willingness to go to extreme lengths to get what they wanted out of the two of them. He could only hope that Divara knew what to do. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Finnor had no idea about what he was supposed to do. It was just a routine scouting mission; they'd simply observe the leafcutter nest and return to Chief Sigvald to report its movements. It had swelled rapidly since the last mission which was concerning but not enough to force them to take action, the army ant swarm will crush the fledgling colony when it slowly comes through.  It was just supposed to be a routine mission, yet here he was dealing with a pair of very influential people. He didn’t know the specifics as a lowly squad leader, but having powerful supporters in the east and west may very well be enough to bring Joachim to justice.  Any negotiations with potential allies were supposed to be handled by a general at the very least, he was promoted to squad leader just a few months ago! He was only thirty seven! How was he supposed to handle matters that could decide the future of his race!?!  He performed breathing exercises taught to all rangers to calm his mind. He had to be temperate with his actions, he didn’t know anything about the political or even the military situation at large, any decision he makes here will likely be deeply flawed or outright detrimental to the effort of Wolgast.  So his objective should be to establish a more permanent line of communication and hand off the actual ‘communication’ part to his superiors, hopefully to people who are far more suited for the job than he is.   Thankfully, he had Vannol. The crossbowman’s loyalty was unquestionable at this point, Finnor’s life had been saved by him too many times for it to not be, he could be trusted to serve as line of communication to the Lyon.   More problematic was the Valcairn, she was headed back west in just a few weeks, they couldn’t hope to reach her there. Any negotiations with her will have to happen before she crosses back through Arlon gate, meaning he’ll have to set up a meeting with Divara before their expedition comes to an end.  As he considered the situation a plan slowly formed in his head. He and his squad will head back to Wolfhagen to make their report and hopefully come back to Reisegen Baum with someone with the authority to negotiate.  Vannol will be left behind to hopefully turn the Lyon to their side, or failing that at least keep him open to the idea of opposing Joachim and to set up future lines of communication. He could also try to delay their expedition, not sabotage of course, that was too risky. Perhaps sightseeing? Finnor could already think of a few places off the top of his head that could be worth seeing in Reisegen Baum.  Finnor smirked as he continued to iron out his plan, this may just work. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Harold put out the last embers of the fire as he dwelled on the events of the day. He’s been ignoring it as best as he can, but he could no longer deny the ugly feeling that’s been born inside of him, a love for violence. The attack on the leafcutter party was a stupid idea, he knew it.

Him and Divara, they didn’t have a plan, an ounce of teamwork or even knowledge of what the other is capable of. Had Divara not been a surprisingly competent fighter, he’d be dead, not even eaten because leafcutters aren’t carnivores. Just left to rot in his armor in the middle of nowhere.  He wanted to put the blame on his companion, he truly did, but who was the one with the military education? Who was the one employed for his expertise in battle? Had he put his foot down Divara probably would’ve listened.  But no, he instead charged in like a bull. No, worse than a bull actually, a bull charging head in would’ve been playing to its strengths.   More memories of similar incidents popped up. His beating of the thief at Alanfer, the incident at the academy, at the end of his fight against the troll, even his very first-time hunting with father as a boy. A deep-seated love for violence. Why was he like this? Why was he so infatuated with the melody of clashing steel?  An ancestor from generations ago was remembered, along with insults from his peers about his lineage. But it couldn’t be, that was someone from two centuries prior, it just couldn’t be—   A sarcastic voice disrupted his thoughts “Are you trying to relight the fire with your glare? If so keep doing it, might just work”  He turns around to the sight of a trademark wolfish smirk. Strangely, the moon decided to show itself beyond the trees for the first time that night, shining down upon Divara. Her eyes seemed to slightly glow, the yellow auburn orbs exuding an aura of confidence that seemed to pull him in and refuse to let go of his sight.  Her dark hair with its hue of blue seemed so reminiscent of a great wolf, so noble in its grandeur, yet so alluring in its wild nature. Now no longer held up in a braid, it flowed down to her waist, a waist hidden by a nightgown that was quite conservative yet still fit snugly around her lithe form. Perhaps its conservativeness was the exact reason why he found it so attractive; it left much to the imagination while still showing off her figure.  Harold realized that he was staring, but he didn’t care. For a single moment, nothing existed. Not his pride, not his nobility, not his savagery. For a single moment, the only thing to exist in his world was his beating heart and the moonlit beauty standing in front of him. Perhaps it was the first time he was seeing her clearly, perhaps it was simply an escape from his hateful thoughts. He didn't care either way.  “Like what you see? Feel free to praise me, I know I’m beautiful” He never thought he would hear the voice of an angel, nor did he know that they sounded so smug.  He decided to parry rather than block. “Yes, you have the beauty enough to dwarf a goddess. I think I might’ve just fallen in love”  A deep red flush and flabbergasted stuttering was the response he got. He was figuring out her buttons alright, if he can’t win with insults he’ll win with compliments. He’ll be the victor of this war of wits yet. A shit eating smirk sent her way seemed to force Divara to gather her bearings before sitting down next to him. “Jackass”  “What could you possibly mean?” She rolled her eyes in response.  He decided to redirect the flow of the conversation before she could come up with something clever to say back. “What was that thing you shot the major with?”  “It’s called a handgonne, it uses mana crystals to fire metal balls at high speeds” she said.  Harold was intrigued “Seems powerful, where can I get one?”   “You can’t, mana crystals can only be activated by the mage that made them. The traditionalists claim it's proof that magic depends on the will and mindset of the person, and as such unique to each individual. I don’t believe it for a second, I’ll figure out a way to get this thing to trigger without my input somehow”  One of the many things the woman next to him was trying to accomplish he supposed. So driven, so ambitious, so filled with dreams for the future. He supposed that was where true beauty was to be found, in the burning fire within one's soul. He wondered if his own could one day burn as bright as hers.  He doubted it, so lost, so directionless, so dependent on others for its spark. A Lyon, a person of great pride, that’s what he was supposed to be, yet it felt as though the pride he felt was either trained into him, or made itself known only when he stood over a fallen corpse of a foe; there was no greatness to be found in such pride.  His dark thoughts are banished as Divara launches into one of her tirades about the nature of magic, her bright soul dominating over whatever meager black mark that made him the way he is. He didn’t want to see the ugliness of his own, so he’ll let himself cling to hers instead, if only for a single evening.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

He woke up the next day feeling much more in control of his emotions, the downward spiral of the evening prior being tucked away to the back of his mind. It wouldn’t do to get distracted when they were still in hostile territory (isn’t that just an excuse though?).
 
 Vannol was already making breakfast while Finnor and his men appeared to be preparing to leave. “Good morning Finnor, where are you going?”
 
 “Lord Harold, me and my men have been called back to Wolfhagen for an emergency. Vannol will stay here to hold the camp, you’re free to stay here for as long as you see fit” It technically wasn’t a lie, setting up the meeting was an emergency.
 
 Harold had his suspicions, but he simply nodded before bidding them farewell, it was a pointless endeavour to try to make assumptions about their intentions when he had so little information to work with. Maybe Divara would have a better idea of what was going on.
 
 He shook his head. That’ll have to wait until Divara wakes up, which was likely still an hour away, the mage was surprisingly a late riser.
 
 He took a seat across from Vannol, the mercenary was making a soup quite similar to the one he made for Harold before, though he could distinctively recognize that the foraged vegetables were different. It smelled delicious.
 
 “Still your maidenly self huh, I have to reiterate you would make a great housewife someday” Harold said in a mocking manner.
 
 The mercenary seemed to eat it up. “That’s what I keep saying! But for some reason no man would take me! I wonder if it’s the missing tooth or the beard. People are so obsessed with looks these days, no appreciation for a pure heart”
 
 Harold snorted in amusement, ‘never change’ he thought. The simmering of soup filled his ears as their conversation died down. They were still on the edges of Reisegen Baum, the sky was still green, birds fluttering by as the sun rose beyond the leaves while the trees began to release their luminescent light.
 
 He carefully observed Vannol as he cooked. Hopefully he’ll be able to learn by observation and not make a fool of himself in front of others when the time comes to make his first public attempt. It seemed simple enough, just dicing and adding meat and vegetables with a sprinkle of salt.
 
 One question did crop up however. “Where did you get the water? There aren’t any streams nearby”
 
 The crossbowman looked at him as though he was an idiot before taking out a hammer and a metal tube with a sharp end. “I’ll show you”
 
Vannol led him to one of the massive trees, handed him the hammer before he began to touch the tree in various places. Harold was just starting to think the mercenary was making fun of him when Vannol finally spoke up. “Got it!”

He positioned the metal tube so that it was pointing down. “Now, hit it with the hammer”
 
 Harold did as he was told, each hit digging deeper and deeper into the bark before on the fourth hit he felt something slightly different. Vannol shooed him away before sucking on the tube, water began to flow out of it into a bucket he placed underneath.
 
 “That’s how you get water in Reisegen Baum. Just like everything else in Altena, from the wildlife. You’ve got much to learn before becoming a proper frontiersman” He certainly did, and he had every intention of learning, hopefully from the mercenary in front of him.
 
 Divara woke up soon afterwards, her bed hair as unruly as always. Harold couldn’t help but compare it to a dog that’s just been blown dry in a particularly messy way. She practically demanded him to meet her every need even as she dazed around half asleep. Apparently her forcing him to help mount her horse was extending beyond being a mere joke now.
 
 Harold somehow ended up doing it, he could hear Vannol sniggering behind him the whole time. Something about him being a ‘maid helping his madam through her morning routine’. Maybe he’ll use the crossbowman as a meatshield the next time he fights a major, none would miss him.
 
 Eventually,

finally

, they have breakfast and are ready to start the day in earnest. But when he asked Divara what they were supposed to do, her response was:
 
 “For you? Nothing, I’ll call you if I need a research assistant, even if you would be somewhat useless” Ignoring the second part, that presented a real issue. He was bored, he had nothing to do, and having nothing to do kept making him come back to his unpleasant thoughts from the evening prior.
 
 So he did his best to make himself busy, mostly asking Vannol about Altena and getting the veteran to teach him anything and everything he knew. Harold thought the mercenary was a good teacher before, but now he realized it was more than that. Vannol was

great,

perhaps he’d even go so far as to call him talented.
 
 “Vannol, why are you still a mercenary?” he suddenly decided to ask.
 
 Vannol appeared to be completely thrown off by the question “Huh?”
 
 Harold decided to expand on it “You’re clearly well learned, decades of experience under your belt to boot. You’d probably be able to rise the ranks in the garrison or the reserve if you wished to do so, it would be a much more stable life. Being mercenary isn’t exactly ideal”
 
 The veteran seemed to consider his words for a moment before giving an answer.
 
 “Sometimes, a man needs to fight for more than just gold or himself. Sometimes a man needs to fight for principles, to do what’s right. Me being in the garrison wouldn’t allow me to do that”
 
 Of all the things he thought would be a motivator for Vannol, ideology certainly wasn’t it. But he supposed the signs were all there, with the way the veteran helped him out after he first arrived on the frontier.
 
 An ideology, a principle. Something the Lyons held to the highest degree, they were the leaders of the new aristocracy movement after all.
 
 He remembered the words his father used to say. ‘

Serve, protect, improve. Those are the obligations we hold for the people who have entrusted us to rule. Any member of the house failing these obligations is a Lyon no longer

’. He never truly understood his fathers words on a moral level even if he understood logically. He simply trusted father to be correct, he always was.
 
 “What do you fight for?” He eventually asked Vannol.
 
 “To be one with the world” he replied.
 
 “Look around you, we are surrounded by the miracle of nature, by Altena. It’s infinite, it’s forever. Even the immortal elves are impermanent in comparison, nevermind our short lives” He pointed to the landscape surrounding them, Harold’s eyes followed.
 
 “Our suffering, our happiness, our triumphs and our failures, our births and deaths. All are meaningless in comparison to this, the grandeur and beauty of the world. The elves understand this, and so do I. We can only hope to achieve permanence by understanding our impermanent fragility, by becoming one with the world” He finally closed his eyes. The man in front of him looked so different from the Vannol he knew.
 
 “That’s why I fight, to reclaim our home in Altena. So that one day, we may be able to become one with the world, one with the divine spirit” Harold recognized his words, it was the teachings of elven religion, the teachings of Altesian druids.
 
 Just like the words of his father, he didn’t really understand, but he nodded nonetheless. He trusted them to be correct.
 
 “What do you fight for?” Vannol asked him. He had no true answer to give. To reclaim the honor of his house? To eventually return home?
 
 Neither of those answers sounded correct. Afterall, fighting is the thing that sparked the fire that would lead to his argument with father wasn’t it? 
 
Because he needed money? To survive? Those weren’t quite right either. He could live an honest life just fine without having to resort to fighting.

‘Because he enjoyed it?’

The silence stretched on, their conversation dying down. It was only broken a while later when Divara called him over to help get one of the plates off the major. Vannol’s question still echoed across his thoughts, he didn’t wish to confront the answer so he once again clung to the voice of someone else. To Divara.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The following few days went by much the same. Divara continued her research of the leafcutter bodies, only occasionally calling upon Harold, mostly to help her with the butchering. He had to say, she wasn’t half as squeamish as he thought she would be. Seemed more fascinated with it all than anything.
 
 Vannol continued to teach him about surviving in the Altena, the veteran was a treasure trove of wisdom. What was edible, what could be used as medicine, how to track, how to hunt, he knew so much that Harold began wondering if the mercenary had lived here his entire life.
 
 He also didn’t miss the occasional mentions of Joachim’s atrocity and the plight of the elven people. It seemed like Vannol had been left here for a reason after all. Despite knowing of the obvious attempts to convert him, he decided that he’d bring it up with father, after he had reconciled with him of course. 
 
 Joachim seemed like the type of person father would oppose fiercely, and matters of the Arlon region had massive implications for the entirety of southern humanity. As the most powerful house in the east, the other members Lyon would likely get involved regardless of what Harold did, so it was probably for the best if they were to step into the ring sooner rather than later.
 
 But that didn’t matter at the moment, alliances like this weren’t forged by a third son in the middle of a forest. Only the head of the house had the authority to make such talks.
 
 Harold shook his head as he focused on the work in front of him. It wasn’t particularly demanding work mind you, but it still gave him an excuse to ignore matters he currently couldn’t do much about.
 
 He was currently holding a plate of a major as Divara ran tests on it, hitting it with a small hammer as her hands glowed with a spell he didn’t know the effects of. She’s been doing it once every six hours since they cut it off from the main body. 
 
 After several days, he finally grew curious enough to ask. “What are these tests for?”
 
 “I’m checking the mana signature within them, all leaf cutter plates have an enchantment on them that makes it extremely hard. It’s why the council doesn’t really bother to collect them, even if they are as tough as enchanted steel. It’s too bulky to make armor with, too difficult for blacksmiths to work on and too rare to use as a building material.” She took a moment to write down some numbers in her journal.
 
 “It’s been believed that the plates are the same in nature as the enchanted steel of humanity, but these tests of mine disprove such a notion. I’ve checked the mana signatures of both the plates still attached to the body and the plate that’s been cut off. It should’ve had the same frequency and properties. It's still from the same creature after all, but it’s been slowly changing, with each passing hour the difference in signature and hardness increases” She began to bite the backside of her index finger as she gained a thoughtful expression, likely considering the possible causes.
 
 He decided to prod her on “Any ideas?” Harold asked Divara, he’s long realised that straight up asking for the reason behind the why tended to annoy her, especially when it was clear that they were working on uncharted territory.
 
 “Not really, I don’t exactly have much to work with here. Mana signatures were discovered only a few decades ago, it’s a barely explored frontier of knowledge. Due to how new it is I wouldn’t be surprised if I was considered one of the few experts on the matter, so there aren’t many others who could offer wisdom on it either” She continues to glance between the plate and her notes, he knows better than to disturb her any further when she’s like this, so he stays quiet after that.
 
 After a few minutes, he decides to take a closer look at the major in a futile attempt to combat his boredom. It was completely butchered for its parts to be examined, yet it still made for an imposing sight with its sheer size, its metallic exoskeleton still gleaming.
 
 It was when he took a good look at one of its armored joints when he noticed something was off. He knew how armor design worked. No matter how hard a blacksmith tried, weaker joints was something unavoidable if you wished to make sure its owner would be able to move around. Two solid plates can’t phase through each other.
 
 The armor of the ant definitely had weaker joints, he saw it and failed to take advantage of it in his very first battle after all. But there was nowhere near enough room to allow the range of motion the major had shown during the battle. That must’ve been why his lance got stuck in the damned thing, the gap was much smaller than what he would expect from armor made by a blacksmith.
 
 That explained why his charge failed, but it raised a much bigger question about how it moved. Despite its size the major was definitely no lumbering brute. He tried flexing its joints, and the plates

moved through each other

.
 
 He had to rub his eyes just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he moved it again and this time noticed that the plates actually deformed when pressed against one another, going back to its original shape the moment it lost contact.
 
 “Divara, take a look at this!” He showed her his findings, her eyes widened for a moment before telling him to bring the detached plate. They placed the metal where it originally was and attempted the same thing as before, only this time the plate didn’t deform, remaining stubborn in its shape as metal should.
 
 Divara’s mouth morphed into her wolfish smirk “Very interesting, very interesting indeed. Good find Harold, this gives me a good thread to follow to figure this thing out. You should be prepared to fight tomorrow, just in case. I need to see their refining process in person.” Harold was already feeling giddy at her words, even if he refused to acknowledge it.
 
 “Want me to come with?” Vannol asked as he approached.
 
 Divara shook her head “We need to be able to make a hasty escape and you don’t have a mount. I also want to avoid fighting if possible, you going would only serve to pull more attention towards us.” 
 
 Vannol seemed offended by the very notion that he’d be a burden. What proceeded was the greatest mud slinging competition Harold will ever be a witness to, escalating until Vannol finally seemed to remember who he was arguing with. 
 
 Harold watched on the sidelines with a stoic face, hiding a deep sense of smug satisfaction; this is what they got for ganging up on him yesterday during dinner when he mentioned having a sister.
 
 The two of them eventually came to a settlement, Vannol will set up a temporary camp where Harold and Divara can fall back to and fight off any pursuers, hopefully allowing them to avoid pulling the nest to their actual camp.
 
 Despite their argument, they still made sure to bury him in snark during dinner, this time about some nonsensical detail on his armor. He wasn’t sure before but he knew it for a fact now, there’s nothing he can do to avoid the verbal barbs, they’ll make fun of him for breathing air if they have to.
 
 Harold sighed in exasperation, he was starting to miss Evelin, she would’ve defended him if she was here. Hopefully. He didn’t know if he could continue living if it turned out otherwise.
 
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
 The morning after went as planned, Vannol set up the camp while Harold and Divara tried to locate a quarry or a mine.
 
 “We can just follow the foraging trails, they’ll all converge on one point eventually. A trail without leaves is the one that should lead to a quarry.” She said, the pair was extremely careful about any scouting parties breaking off of the trail and went to great lengths to avoid them. Fighting was unnecessary, and they knew from their first fight the danger of underestimating a major.
 
 After several hours, they eventually found what they were looking for, a mine. Supports made of timber could be seen even from the outside, meaning the whole thing was likely excavated by the ants. Not surprising considering where they build their nests.
 
 What was surprising was the sophisticated division of labor on show. Mediae and minor workers came out of the mine carrying bits of ore and various colored rocks, which were all left in a big pile swarming with tiny minim workers.
 
 He couldn’t see what they were exactly doing to refine the pile of ore, but he did notice the steady stream of minor workers carrying refined metal into one pile and waste into another. Nearby, young majors stood still as minims and minors worked togethers to mend the metal onto their exoskeletons, turning them into the same fierce enemy that almost ended his life just a few days prior.
 
 It was far more efficient than any human workforce except perhaps the military. Every individual had a duty that they executed to perfection, there were no slackers nor did any of them seem to get tired. It was a perfectly designed system with a singular goal in mind: produce as many soldiers as possible.
 
 He could feel both a sense of amazement and dread at the scene. This was the true power of giant ants, and especially leafcutters. Unmatched industrialism with a tireless horde prepared to work until the last second of their lives in service of the nest’s greater good. Had it not been for infighting between colonies, he was sure humanity would’ve been overrun long ago.
 
 Divara also seemed quite taken by the sight. “You stay here, I need to see the minims work close up. Watch my back.” she ordered, he didn’t like letting her go by herself, but she’d likely be in less danger if she went alone, his harness wasn’t exactly subtle.
 
 He continued to watch as Divara approached on foot, her horse left behind with him. She cast a spell upon herself, silencing her footsteps.
 
 She settled down a few dozen meters away from the minims working to refine the ore, her eyes glowing with a magnification spell. He could distinctly see her furiously write things down onto her notebook before circling around to observe the forging process of a major’s armor, once again writing pages upon pages of notes.
 
 He let out a sigh of relief when she finally got up to leave, it seemed like they had managed to avoid being detected.

Disappointing.

That thought was stopped dead in its tracks as a mediae began barreling towards Divara at full speed. Shit.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Divara seemed to have noticed the mediae a moment before he did, in a single instant she drew her gonne and shot; the mediae fell a moment later, the projectile having completely pierced through its skull and into its brain. The immediate danger had passed, but now every ant in the quarry knew of their presence.
 
 All hell broke loose. Harold mounted Atlas and charged straight through the middle of the quarry, trampling minim workers by the dozens. Divara made a mad dash to reach him as she chanted a spell under her breath. Majors charged them head on while mediae and minors manoeuvred to encircle them.
 
 Being completely surrounded by mediae would be a death sentence, he wouldn’t be able to charge through them without a lance. They didn’t have a single second to waste, so he didn’t slow down for Divara, instead reaching out his hands to grab her while galloping at full speed.
 
 The mage appeared to have expected it. She cast her spell as she jumped, floating in the air for a second, allowing Harold to catch her on the way down without much difficulty. They immediately changed directions, moving towards the weakest part of the encirclement that was formed only of minor workers.
 
 Being smaller than even an army ant scout, the workers had no hope of stopping a galloping warhorse. Atlas burst through their ranks with ease, the majors and mediae hot on their heels. The ants were fast, faster than a running human but still much slower than a horse, they wouldn’t be able to catch up to them through speed alone, but their stamina was a cause for concern. Atlas wouldn’t be able to keep up a gallop forever, especially so when he was carrying two people.
 
 His worries were somewhat alleviated when Divara whistled to call her horse, it seemed like he wasn’t the only one with a loyal mount.
 
 “Great sneaking.” Harold said with every drop of sarcasm he could muster.
 
 “Oh shut it! Save your breath for the fight ahead.” Harold smirked in response as the two of them rode away on their respective mounts.
 
 The four of them had to be careful about their escape, they couldn’t just gallop away at full speed, their horse’s stamina wouldn't last long enough to lose the leafcutters. Fortunately, Harold was an expert cavalryman.
 
 Recalling the mental image he had of the surrounding area, he quickly planned their march. They’ll circle around a longer path rather than making a beeline for their secondary camp, both to avoid the main trail and to exploit the difference in speed between majors and mediae.
 
 Majors were slower than mediae, so if they kept pace for long enough the majors would eventually be left behind, they could link up with Vannol afterwards to exterminate the remaining pursuers. 
 
 Aside from a few instances in which Harold had to tell Divara to reduce her pace to conserve stamina, his plan went without a hitch. It still didn’t detract from the strange experience of being chased by ants for over half an hour. 
 
 The constant skittering of their legs and the occasional high pitched screeches constantly had them on edge, yet the knowledge that they couldn’t hope to catch up served to calm the nerves.
 
 It was a relief to finally see the Vannol in the distance, the mercenary rushed to load his crossbow as he spotted the group of mediae in pursuit. Even from a distance, Harold could see the stunned expression on his face in response to the casual wave he gave.
 
 ‘
THWACK’
 
 
Vannol’s aim was as sharp as he remembered it, a bolt instantly found the eye of one of the ants, though it failed to kill at such a long range. 
 
 ‘
THWACK’
 
 Another bolt was fired.
 
 ‘THWACK’
 
 
And another…
 
 
 ‘THWACK’
 
 
And another…
 
 
 ‘THWACK’
 
 
The fifth bolt finally pierced deep enough to kill, Harold took this as a sign to dismount and face his pursuers. He hit Atlas to make the stallion run to safety, he was likely too exhausted to continue fighting.
 
 Harold drew his sword and prepared his stance, over the course of their chase across the forest the ants had formed into a trail, meaning he wouldn’t instantly get surrounded. But the ants understood the advantage to be had in numbers, so the ones in the front began slowing to allow the rest to catch up, Harold made the snap decision to attack first in response.
 
 Leaf cutter mediae were much tougher than army ant scouts, but were still no match for an enchanted steel blade, a flash of his sword instantly killed one of his foes. Several thrusts chained together each claimed a victim, these were nothing compared armored majors. 
 
 The ants began to spread out to flank and surround him, but the shots coming in from Vannol and Divara allowed Harold the time to back off and reposition himself whenever necessary.

A slash from the right, a thrust, a slash from overhead, a pommel driven into the eye of a mediae trying to attack him from the side. It almost felt like a systematic execution rather than an actual fight.
 
 Slowly but surely, the three of them were whittling down their numbers, but his arrogance cost him, he overcommitted to an attack in favor of repositioning. Three ants attacked at the same time, he was able to cut one of them down before the other two took hold of his arms, he felt a drop of acid burn his skin.
 
 Thankfully both of his allies were excellent shots, Vannol’s bolt killed while Divara’s bullet stunned the ant for long enough for him to finish it off. He realized a moment later that the corroded part of his armor wasn’t recovering as enchanted steel should, it seemed like mediae acid was potentially more dangerous to his armor than even the hulking mandibles of a major.
 
 “GET DOWN!” Divara suddenly yelled, he threw himself to the ground without questioning her words for a single moment.
 
  A spear of light flew from her hands, piercing through and instantly killing several mediae, it seemed like their corpses had to take a moment to process the fact that they were dead, left standing with a burning hole in their bodies before collapsing. The terrifying display of power appeared to have finally convinced the ants that such a dogged pursuit was no longer worth it. The remaining forces fled. 
 
He didn’t know they could do that.
 
 Harold was still reeling from the light of the spell. “Couldn’t you have warned me sooner?!” He yelled.
 
 Divara giggled in an uncharacteristically childish manner as she approached to pull him up. “Sorry, sorry. Still unused to fighting, this is only my second rodeo you know”
 
 He laid there as he stared at the offered hand in annoyance, this scene somehow felt really familiar. “What’s got you in such a good mood? I’m hoping it's not the fallen corpses of our enemy.”
 
 “No, no…” She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I think I’m on the cusp of a breakthrough, I just need to ponder a little on what I discovered today.”
 
 “Well… it only

almost

cost us our lives. Remind to me to squeeze more money out of you the next time we work together again”
 
 Her response was to laugh as she pulled him up with a grunt of struggle. Vannol took this moment to intervene.
 
 “Remind me to not work with either of you ever again! You two arrive here being chased by an entire camp of leafcutters and you’re laughing about it.”
 
 Divara replied “It’s called courage, though I’m not sure you’d know anything about that.”
 
 The crossbowman scoffed “A mental illness is what it is. Come on, let's get out of here before any more arrive.”
 
 Harold smiled as they all turned to leave, ignoring how close to the mark Vannol’s words may have been.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

—47th day of Humanus.
 
 I’ve decided to write in this once every couple of days rather than writing daily, precisely for times like this when there isn’t much happening.
 
 The days since our escape from the mining camp have been quiet, not a single leafcutter in sight. I suppose elves know how to pick a camping spot better than anyone else in the world, we’ve only had to deal with the occasional wolf or bear, easily driven off by a few shots. 
 
 Vannol and I also saw a troll yesterday, quite surprising considering they’re nearly extinct. The armored one I encountered was an outlier, I hadn’t expected to see one ever again. Vannol explained it was probably fleeing from the army ants, leaf cutters weren’t half as aggressive in comparison making Reisegen Baum one of the safest places in the frontier side of the Altena. 
 
 I’ve noticed that leaf cutter scouting parties were far fewer and less throughout in comparison to army ant scouts, they seem to prefer sticking to their foraging trails. Despite our debacle at the mining camp Divara and I have continued to observe their trails and daily routines. I’m fairly certain the number of majors guarding the trails have increased since our battle.
 
 Divara, what a strange woman she is. Her appearance suggests she’s only a few years older than me, though her expertise suggested otherwise. Even ignoring how ridiculous it is for someone so young to be trusted with an expedition (a very well-funded one considering how much I’m being paid), she has the same air most of the younger professors at the academy tended to have. 
 
 She often refers to other scholars from the western institute as if it’s common sense to know who they are, probably experts of their individual fields. Yet she never refers to them as superiors. Only either as equals, or those below her if they’re a traditionalist. 
 
 She even claims to be one of the pioneers of modern magical study. I’d have called her a fraud, but I’m confident she doesn’t have a single lying bone in her entire body, she’s much too prideful to lie unless absolutely necessary.
 
 On the topic of pride, mine as a noble is being tested to its very limits. Divara’s expertise indicates she’s much older than her appearance would suggest, but her demeanor makes me think she’s actually a child. 
 
 Every morning she makes ridiculous demands of me. Bring me a cup of tea! Help me make my bed! Brush my hair! She seems to think I’m contracted to be her butler, at this point I’m expecting her to demand help in dressing herself (I wouldn’t mind that actually), but I do mind everything else.
 
 I still do it of course, I’m slowly being crushed in our war of words, she’s moved onto calling me ‘toddler terror’ ever since I mentioned the kids back at the farmstead (Where does she even get these nicknames?). 
 
 I’ll strike back eventually, I just need an appropriately romantic setting. I’ve come to realise she’s quite vulnerable to my charm and I believe I can gain the upper hand in a single decisive strike. She’ll be sent reeling as if she’s been charged down my Atlas! I just need to bide my time.
 
 Vannol is absolutely eating the situation up, the mercenary is a real comedian, loves to laugh his ass off at anything that’s

even remotely funny

. Scratch that, he laughs at anything that potentially chips away at my sanity. He’s apparently shocked at me being literate.
 
 Ignore the small splatter of blood, it definitely isn’t from me headbutting Vannol.
 
 On a more serious note Vannol’s continued to teach me, and I finally cooked a proper meal! Divara and Vannol both said it tasted like shit (my taste buds certainly agree), but who cares about them? I’ve finally cooked after all this time! Nothing can detract from that, not even stew that had more salt than the ocean.
 
 Another activity of note would be Divara’s research. She says she’s potentially found proof that magic is ‘systematic’ in nature rather than ‘personal’. After all these days of listening to her jargon I think I finally have a decent grasp of the difference between modern magical study and the traditionalists.
 
 Traditionalists believe magic originates from the soul and depends on the will of the user. Supporters of modern magical study believe that magic can be quantified, arguing it’s no different from the mechanics of motion. I have no idea how one is supposed to turn magic into numbers but if Divara says it can be done it probably can be.
 
 Divara would probably skin me alive if she read this oversimplified explanation, but I couldn't care less.
Upon further consideration, I would like to retract my statement. She’s become scarily good at skinning things after all the days spent working on ant corpses. Today she caught a minor wandering off the main trail by itself and proceeded to keep it alive as she extracted acid from it after digging through its head for nearly an hour. 
 
 Mages are terrifying.
 
 Truth to be told, it was kind of hot. I refuse to elaborate on this statement any further (Who wrote this? I knew taking a swig from Vannol’s mystery flask was a bad idea).

Discoveries of the day:

-Atlas prefers his treats diced into thin pieces. He also seems to enjoy sleeping with his barding on, but only if the straps are loosened.

-Vannol knows how to use an elven longbow. I also don’t think I’ve ever seen him miss with that crossbow of his. I’m beginning to suspect he’s an elf in disguise.

-The corrosive effect of leaf cutter acid can be nullified by spreading lime on the affected area. My armor has now finally recovered but I did notice that the enchantment is far weaker than before.

-Divara has a beauty mark on her nape.

-

Covering your mouth and nose doesn’t help with the smell of burning death sacks. God save us all.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

“I GOT IT!!!” Harold nearly had a heart attack as he woke up to that cry in the middle of the night. He rushed out of his tent with his sword, still half asleep, expecting an attack. Harold was trained well enough that he’s probably capable of reacting to and beating most garrison soldiers even in such an unprepared state, that didn’t stop him being thrown around by the frantic mage that woke him up.  In a flash of lightning Divara had him on the ground, sitting on top of him as she repeatedly shook him by the collar while yelling something about enchantment inscriptions. She had deep bags under eyes and a manic look on her face, the enchanting beauty he was so used to seeing in the moonlight was nowhere to be found.  After a while, long enough for Vannol to wake up and go back to sleep after seeing the ridiculous scene in front of him, Harold was finally fed up enough to put an end to her ramblings.  “What’s got you acting like a rabid dog?! If you don’t start making sense I’ll personally deliver you to an asylum!” That finally seemed to snap her out of her trance. She gestured for him to follow as she ran to the tent where she was running her experiments.  He took several deep breaths to put his emotions back under control before following, this had better be good. He entered the tent to the sight of one of the leafcutter plates glowing with a web-like pattern across its entire surface, Divara giddily staring at it as the pattern slowly grew more intricate with each passing moment.  He was entranced by the scene. “What did you do to the plate?”  “Just wait!” she said as the lines continued to brighten. “Now, try bending it.”  He did as he was told, grabbing the plate from the side and pushing. Even with his physical prowess, he definitely wasn’t strong enough to bend metal, he should’ve been met with stiff resistance.   He instead watched in awe as the metal deformed under his grip like water, offering no resistance whatsoever. The moment he loosened his grip the metal returned to its original shape, just like when the plates still on the corpse were able to move through each other. She then handed him another plate of metal; he recognized it as Vannol's washing basin.   The same web-like pattern grew along it, he was amazed to see it deform under his grip just like the leafcutter armor, even if to a much lesser degree.  “This is it; this is proof that enchantments function on a system of laws. I’ve been trying to replicate the properties of the leafcutter's natural armor based upon how the minims at the mining camp were inscribing internal patterns into the metal. I finally managed to get it to work by flooding the thing with mana at specific points." She pointed at were the glowing lines ended at the edge of the plate. Now that he focused, he could see that the lines seemed to be 'flowing' inwards.  "The reason why the plates attached to the major kept its magical property was thanks to the mana still within the body feeding the enchantment, I'm almost 100% confident that once the corpse deteriorates for long enough its armor will turn stiff and lose its deformable property, even if it takes a long time. Unless you provide it with another source of mana of course."  She pointed at his sword. "I suspect that enchanted steel works very similarly, the only difference being that enchanted steel constantly attempts to bend into a specific shape rather than becoming deformable, meaning the entire forging process that enchanters use is likely a method for creating an inscription that someone discovered by accident, and claimed to be some nonsense about infusing souls into metal. Entirely different from leaf cutter armor in structure but exactly the same in principle." She continued to speak without taking a single breath, Harold was struggling to keep up, it was almost as bad as being on the receiving end of the children's questions back at the farmstead.  "The method I’m using to activate the enchantment is highly inefficient and I still don’t know what most if not all of these inscriptions even do but all of that will be found out in time. What matters is that it's been proven, a system of laws govern enchantments rather than soul bullshittery!” Her face turned serene as she finished her rant, the glow of the metal dying down along with it.  She promptly collapsed into his arms, completely exhausted, he was fairly certain she hadn't slept in two days. Honestly, how obsessed someone had to be to push themselves like this.   He picked her up to take her to bed, she both needed and deserved the rest. He once again felt like a butler, though that meant little in the face of something more important. The passion and (crazed) happiness in her eyes just now… A bright soul indeed, in every sense of the word.  Just as he turned to leave for his own tent, Divara quietly spoke up. “Have you managed to figure out anything about Vannol and the elves?”  Harold had to sigh in exasperation, she had just collapsed from exhaustion and yet was still worrying about their current situation. This girl was hopeless.   He took a seat next to her bedroll. “I suspect he’s been working with the elves for a long time by now. His disdain for Joachim is clear, and he occasionally speaks about the plight of the elven clans and how important Wolgast is to the future of their people.”  Divara narrowed her eyes. “They’re trying to turn us to their side then. The abrupt way in which Finnor and his squad left… they probably went to report our presence, which means a higher ranked official will likely return to speak with us.”  He supposed that made sense. “What action would you suggest?”  Divara spent a few minutes mulling over her thoughts, Harold patiently waited for her to decide. “I think it’s for the best if we spoke with them, reestablishing the elven clans could be critical to putting western Altena back under humanity’s control. Either way they won’t do anything to hurt us, they can’t afford to make any more enemies.”  Harold nodded in response before bidding her goodnight. He was thinking much the same, he’ll have to speak with father about this eventually, Divara probably had to do the same with the leaders of the western institute. He was starting to hate Joachim just for causing him so much headache. How does one stay in power when it seemed as though he was surrounded by enemies on all sides? It just didn’t make sense. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  “So, your work here is nearly done then?” Asked Vannol as they had lunch, or breakfast in the case of Divara.  “Almost, my mission was to study the behavioral patterns of a newly founded leafcutter colony, I still don’t have much to show on that front so I’ll have to figure something out.”  For a few moments it was dead quiet, it seemed like even the birds had gone silent in shock.  “Didn’t you spend most of your time studying the leafcutter armor?” “Yes.”  “And that wasn’t your actual mission.”  “Precisely, it’s more of a personal project”  Harold laughed, Vannol joined him a moment later. Completely insane, that’s what she was. She had spent all this time pursuing a personal project and was now trying to accomplish her actual objective in the few short days she still had. Doesn’t the western institute blacklist or imprison researchers for embezzlement? He was fairly certain this was embezzlement.  “Hey! What are you two laughing about?!” Divara’s pouting mixed with genuine confusion somehow caused the two of them to laugh even harder, Vannol was wheezing at this point.   Harold was the first to gather his wits. “W-well we better get started on our actual mission shouldn’t we? Would you be willing to teach me a class on time management later Professor Priority? Maybe we could do it while fighting a drake.”  He decided that he enjoyed being the one to give nicknames once in a while, even if he had to concede it wasn’t half as good as ‘Toddler Terror’.  Regardless, she definitely wasn't as bright as he first thought, 'obsessed' was much more fitting.  Vannol thankfully had an idea to get Divara out of her current predicament. The elves had supposedly located where the main nest of the leaf cutters were, and he had a way of observing the inner workings of the colony with no risk of detection.  It sounded ridiculous, but he doubted the mercenary was going to lead them to their deaths. After a bit of questioning, it was decided. They’ll take his supposed secret passageway to the leafcutter nest not even the leafcutters themselves knew of. In less than an hour they set out.  They left the horses behind; he didn’t like leaving Atlas with nobody to watch over him, but apparently Vannol's secret route wasn’t very horse friendly. After experiencing it for himself, Harold decided it wasn’t very human friendly either.   They first had to traverse deep into leafcutter territory, he noticed that the vegetation significantly decreased the deeper they went, to the point that the blue sky could be seen beyond the green horizon of leaves that dominated most of Reisegen Baum. Older trails of leafcutters had left a dirt path that was already beginning to be reclaimed by plant life, the incredible speed of Altena’s growth ensuring nothing remained decimated for long.  They eventually reached a tree that was noticeably old, shriveled and left with barely any green on its branches. Considering how long these giant trees lived, it must’ve been around for longer than the frontier.  His and Divara’s wonder stopped dead in its tracks at Vannol’s next words. “We have to climb up to the top.”  What? “The… top?”  “Well, more like three quarters, but same difference”  He must’ve seen their stunned expression. “I did tell you it wasn’t very horse friendly.”  That suggested it was human friendly, this certainly wasn’t. Harold shook his head after some time spent gawking, covered in plate armor or not; he wasn't about to back off before a challenge. He outlasted a troll in a battle of attrition, this was nothing in comparison.  Vannol proceeded to practically fly up the damned thing, jumping from branch to branch as if it was second nature to him. Harold steadied his breath and tried to follow his example, he decided slow and steady was for the best after almost falling off to his death... three times.  Slowly climbing up branch by branch was surprisingly easy as their large size provided steady platforms to reach out for the next branch. The ease of the task gave him a surge of pride for his physical strength. That feeling was crushed when he looked down to check on Divara’s progress. She had made valiant effort, she truly did, having climbed up a quarter of the way by herself, but her lack of physical conditioning had eventually caught up to her and she was currently lying on a branch half dead.   That was a problem, she was their most important member for the work ahead. He made his way back down to where she was lying. “You alive?”  Heavy panting was the only response he got. He sighed before tying her to his back using a rope, he received a muted ‘thank you’ from his cargo. Vannol had already reached their destination, the smug crossbowman casually waving at him as he sat on a branch.   Harold had never been more grateful for someone being small, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve been able to climb up if he was carrying someone heavier like Evelin instead. The added weight significantly increased the difficulty of his ascent, but he was still determined to reach the top in a single breath.  So up he went, branch by branch, not stopping a single time to rest. After an excruciatingly long time, he finally reached Vannol.  “Stubborn as always, I applaud you for your determination. I hereby dub you Harold the donkey” He couldn’t be bothered to respond, his lungs had a hundred breaths to make up for. Divara patted him on the back as he laid there for a good ten minutes, Vannol thankfully didn’t open his mouth again.  He spoke after Harold had finally gathered his bearings. “Now we head back down”  He pointed down a hole in the trunk, they couldn’t even see the bottom.  “How exactly?” “By rope, obviously.”   …Definitely not a human-friendly route.   The way back down was thankfully much easier than climbing up, they just slid down the rope, though his hands were slightly burning by the end. Vannol took out a lantern to light up their surroundings, it was then that he noticed the wooden tunnels leading down in various directions.  “Hollow roots of ancient trees, an underground tunnel naturally formed by Altena. That marked one will lead us straight to the leafcutter nest.” Vannol said. He could only nod dumbly as they continued onward.  “Finnor and I found this a few weeks ago, incredible isn’t it? The roots connect to other hollow trees as well. I heard that the elder elves once had the entire system mapped, though that knowledge is lost to us now.” Harold didn't miss the bitterness at the last part.  After a bit of walking, they stumbled upon a small hole in the wall. Beyond it was a leaf cutter brood chamber. None of them spoke a word in fear of alerting the ants, but he could clearly see Divara’s enthusiasm as she took out her notebook. He suspected they were going to be here for a long time.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

They returned several times over the course of the next few days, Divara had filled up two journals with her notes. Harold tried reading them but decided that it was a futile effort, there was not a single coherent thought in that monstrosity of random musings. She apparently has an assistant who helps her distill it all into something comprehensible, he certainly didn’t envy the position.  Returning there also meant he had to climb the tree every time, he supposed that it was good physical conditioning if nothing else. After a while Divara finally made the decision to end the expedition, she had a deadline   to keep after all.   They were meant to begin their march back home two days earlier, but apparently the chance to observe the leaf cutters in their nests was too good of an opportunity to pass up because of a mere time constraint.  Vannol seemed somewhat worried about their return, but his expression softened when he saw a pair of giant squirrels approach from the distance, jumping from tree to tree with great dexterity. They stopped right outside their camp, revealing the two riders.  One he recognized, it was Finnor. The scout looked just about ready to keel over dead, his face turning green from nausea. It was probably his first time riding a giant squirrel, his discomfort understandable given how the furred creatures would suddenly change directions while running, going straight up and down trees as though it was the most normal thing in the world.  The other elf he didn’t know, but was clearly someone of authority judging from his luxuriously braided pitch black hair. He was taller than both Finnor and Vannol, only slightly shorter than Harold, though much thinner in stature similar to most elves.   His uniform looked similar to Finnor’s, light leather clothes covered by a green cloak that blended in with the surroundings, though his was decorated with slight trimmings of metal that formed into a vine-like pattern.  He waited and gave a moment for Finnor to catch his breath before introducing himself, looking at the squad leader with disapproval clearly evident in his eyes, though there was a calculating element in his gaze.  Finnor eventually spoke. “I present to you Chief Sigvald Falkenspeer, general of the northern scouts and a member of the Wolgast elder council.” He drew two fingers over his shoulders as if tracing the arc of a sword, likely a military salute.  Divara had expected such a meeting to occur, and she spoke first as she approached. “Divara of house Valcairn from the western institute of research. Pleased to make your acquaintance”  Harold followed suit. “Harold of house Lyon. It’s an honor to meet you, general.”  Chief Sigvald nodded in respect to the two of them before speaking. “The honor is all mine. If I may ask, what do the two of you seek in Reisegen Baum?”  Divara replied. “We’ve been sent by the western institute of research to study the leafcutter nest that’s taken root here.”  The chief raised one eyebrow. “Without permission from the clan of Wolgast? You’re currently on elven territory”  Divara narrowed her eyes. “The western institute recognizes no such clans, nor will it abide by frivolous claims of ownership with no political presence to back it up.”  Both Vannol and Finnor appeared to be mortified by her words, Harold didn’t blame them, that was quite the aggressive statement.  Thankfully, the general appeared unphased. “Not one for games are you? Fine, I’ll get straight to the point then. The clan of Wolgast requests the support of house Valcairn, house Lyon and the western institute of research in its impending declaration of independence as a newly formed united elven clan.”  Divara continued to speak. Harold made no effort to intervene, this was far out of his field of expertise. “On what grounds do you make such a claim? Only descendents of the first high chieftain are recognized as legitimate claimants to the united clan.”  “Oberyn Von Falkenheim, great grandson of the first high chieftain Aldric von Falkenheim, is currently in line to rule Wolgast upon reaching adulthood when he turns thirty years old in a few months, an elder council of sixteen chieftains are serving as a regent until his coronation.”  That was surprising, Harold had assumed the entire dynasty was wiped out at Arlon gate, it appeared as though that wasn’t the case. Having a descendent of Aldric at their helm significantly increased the legitimacy of the clan, making it potentially a symbol for the elves to rally under.  “What does the clan of Wolgast offer in exchange for our support?”  “Is the rightful restoration of the clans not enough for you?”  Divara gave him an unimpressed look, the general sighed before continuing.  “We’re willing to insure the safety of any western institute agents along with the rights to traverse freely through our territory. We’re also willing to offer favorable trade deals to Valcairn; forage and timber of the Altena are currently in high demand, yes?”   Divara paused to think for a moment before replying. “I unfortunately don’t have the authority to make such arrangements, but I promise to deliver your message to both the head of Valcairn and the leaders of the western institute, you’ll have to continue negotiations with them”. The general nodded in understanding before looking towards Harold.  “What about you? Harold of Lyon.”  Harold shook his head. “I also don’t have the ability to make any promises, but I’ll take it up with father the first chance I get.”  Sigvald seemed disappointed, though it appears he expected such an outcome. “I see, please do so.” The talks after that were much tamer in comparison, mostly agreements on how they’d make contact with each other. In an hour they had made all the necessary arrangements and he, along with Divara, was bound for home.  “You’re remaining here?” Harold asked Vannol.  “Yes, I’m a scout of Wolgast after all.” He replied.  That certainly explained his agility and survival skills. But… “You’re an elf?!”  Vannol laughed in response. “Not at all, I’m a human in blood, even if I like to consider myself an elf in spirit. This is my homeland, I grew up right here in Reisegen Baum, in the old capital of the elves.”  Harold remembers their conversation from before. Is that why you’re so opposed to serving in the garrison?.    “I see, may you remain steadfast in your path forward, son of Altena.”  “Ha! That kind of talk doesn’t suit you ‘brute’ but… I wish you luck in finding your purpose.”  Harold was stunned for a moment, he never did give an answer to that question did he? What do you fight for? 
 
 “I…I promise I’ll have an answer for you the next time we meet.” He said.  “See that you do, that’s my homework for you, teacher to student.”  Harold smiled as he mounted Atlas. “Thank you, for everything you’ve taught me.”  Vannol smirked “Any time.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Divara had decided to abandon most of their camping supplies to allow for more room to bring her subjects of study, things like leafcutter acid and major plates; she even brought the untouched body of a minim worker.  Harold felt like a child as he excitedly fondled his new lance; it was a farewell gift from General Sigvald, made with Reisegen Baum timber but styled slightly differently from elven lances to make sure it doesn’t raise suspicion from any garrison guards. It absolutely was just a political maneuver to get on his good side; he had to applaud the general, it was highly successful. The weapon was masterfully crafted with intricate carvings along its entire body, perhaps he finally had a lance that wouldn't shatter on him.  Divara was given a necklace carving instead. She seemed quite disappointed with it until she realized that it was made out of a major's exoskeleton, disappointment was quickly replaced with delight when she found out.  Already they were approaching the edge of Reisegen Baum, the towering trees waning into familiar overgrowth tunnels, they were moving very quickly with barely any supplies weighing them down.  Small conversations and barbs with Divara continued, it was strange to think she wouldn’t be around anymore in just a day or two. He’s technically only known her for only a few weeks, though it certainly felt much longer than that. Her larger than life personality had a way of being imprinted into one’s memory to the point it feels like you can’t imagine life without them.  He had to laugh at his thoughts, look at him being all sentimental for a parting of ways that hasn’t even happened yet.  “What are you laughing about?”  “Nothing much, just thinking about our time together is all.”  “Is that so?” He expected her to continue, likely with some jab he wouldn't be able to conceive of even if given a year to ponder. He got silence instead. There was almost a sad look in her eyes, he supposed he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed their time together.  He couldn’t find the proper words to say, so he let comfortable silence wash over them instead.   The overgrowth tunnels eventually ended, leading to an almost normal looking forest, still overgrown enough that the sun struggled to pierce through the foliage, but far more reasonable in comparison to Reisegen Baum.  Their silence is disturbed by a familiar scuttling of feet. He turned to see a group of army ants scouts, behind them stood...  He sees Divara pull out her gonne, he was about to yell at her to stop but—  “ SCREEEECH”   The army ant soldier let out a cry of rage, in his panicked state he yelled at Divara to run before galloping away at full speed. He could thankfully hear the mage follow after him. His instincts screamed at him to fight, to overcome this new foe, but his logical mind knew better. Fighting the leafcutter major was foolish, yes, but trying to fight here was straight up suicidal.  Not because army ant soldiers were more dangerous than leafcutter majors, they were actually much weaker, but their presence suggested they were in the path of the swarm’s hunting trail.  His worries were proven valid when they pierced through the foliage into a small opening, which made no sense. Open fields didn’t exist in the Altena, it was too overgrown to allow such a thing... No, this was one made by the swarm.  Thousands if not millions of army ants marched, trampling and consuming everything in their path. The trail was made up of two parts, one marching forward to new lands and the other heading back to their nomadic nest made of ant bodies, carrying anything and everything that could be considered edible or useful.   Herbivores, carnivores, other giant arthropods, humans, he thought he could even see a drake amidst their quarry. He didn’t have a moment to ponder on the sight, they had to get out of here right now.    Harold drew his lance and galloped forward at max speed, pushing Atlas to his very limits. He did his best to avoid soldiers wherever he can and made sure to at least stun those in their path in the hopes of opening a path for Divara to follow through on, her horse wouldn’t be able to charge through like Atlas.  If there was one silver lining to this situation it was that those they charged past wouldn’t be able to follow them, the bodies were too dense to allow such a maneuver. Nevertheless, scouts clung to Atlas’ legs before being crushed, soldiers tried to attack them, some almost succeeding were it not for Harold keeping them at bay with his lance.  After an excruciating twenty seconds at full gallop, they finally reached the other end of the line. Atlas's barding was completely torn and one his stirrups were heavily damaged. He turned around to see Divara, her horse was slightly bleeding from the thigh, thankfully it was a small wound that could be easily treated. But most of her belongings were lost. Neither of them stopped to rest, Divara grit her teeth and charged ahead. They had to get away from the swarm no matter the cost, even if it meant abandoning weeks of work.  It seemed like they had just barely avoided the clash between the army ant swarm and the leafcutter nest. He almost felt pity for the ants in Reisegen Baum, he and Divara only survived the encounter because they were inconsequential, the swarm let them go because there was little benefit to hunting them down.   The leafcutters wouldn't be so lucky.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Divara was unreconcilable.  Harold tried to find the proper words to cheer her up for the fifth time before once again coming up empty, their strange relationship of trying to annoy each other as much as possible didn’t leave much room for comforting words in moments like this.  He attempted to hide his discomfort by stoking the hearth in front of him, something to keep him busy and avoid the problem at hand. He’s been doing that a lot lately, hasn’t he?.  The crackling of fire and the stirring of stew served to keep silence at bay. Forage from their surroundings along with the last of their provisions slowly swirled in an iron pot, after weeks of practice his stew was finally beginning to resemble the one made by Vannol, even if the aroma clearly demonstrated its inferiority. It’ll be a while yet before the student surpasses the master.  The silence stretched on until the stew was ready, Divara finally spoke after tasting the first spoonful. “It’s shit. Too much salt and it’s overcooked, the texture is also terrible.”  Much better than his last attempt he supposed. Despite the harsh words she didn’t stop eating, each spoon of stew being devoured faster than the last until she decided to abandon it entirely in favor of drinking from the bowl. A wolf indeed.  She immediately held out her bowl after finishing, demanding seconds. He complied without question. The second bowl disappeared as quickly as the first, thirds it was then.   Divara finally put down her bowl after the fourth serving. She sat down next to him before leaning her head against his side, her shorter stature meant her head didn’t even reach the top of his shoulders. Not a word was spoken yet, he supposed it wasn’t needed to comfort another, especially between the two of them. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  Whatever little comfort he was able to offer her apparently did wonders for her psyche as Divara was back to her normal self the morning after, excitedly speaking about potential methods of circumventing the issue of lost materials.  “I don’t have an exact diagram of the inscription, I intended to draw it after returning, but I still have my notes on its appearance. I can probably replicate the design after enough trial and error; if anything, it gives me a chance to figure out the individual functions of each element of the inscription, it’s a win-win really.” She immediately went into another tirade about a potential replacement for the leaf cutter acid the moment she finished.  This fit her much better than the brooding mood from the evening prior, her brilliance should never be allowed to wither, the world will be left darker for it.  Their conversation continued until sunset, wherein they once again made camp for the day. They were completely out of provisions, but Divara was able to catch a rabbit with a spell, a miracle considering the army ants that recently moved through the area. Hopefully Vannol and the elves managed to avoid the advancing swarm, thankfully the overgrowth tunnels leading to Reisegen Baum should slow down the army ants by a considerable margin.  Divara skinned the rabbit while he gathered firewood, roasted rabbit could be good every once in a while, especially when seasoned with an assortment of Altena spices.  The mage spoke up after a while. “Harold, why are you working as a mercenary?”  He raised one his eyebrows, that was an awfully serious tone of voice, she also called him by his name for once rather than using some ridiculous nickname. “Where is this coming from?”   “I just realized we don’t actually know much about each other, I didn’t want us to split ways with no knowledge of who we were.” Harold hummed, he supposed that was true.  Harold told her of a general overview of his life. His younger days, his time at the academy, the incident that ended it, what he’s been up to in the frontier. He made no effort to mention the violence nature that spanned his entire life. She, nor he himself really, needed to know about any of that.  Divara somehow seemed to be in complete disbelief about it all, especially about his days at the academy.    “You were a lady charmer? A master of courtship and etiquette you say? I’d love to meet this supposed knight in shining armor one day.”  Despite the insult, he couldn’t help but laugh in response. He certainly has changed a lot hasn’t he? He mostly blames Vannol and Divara herself, though he supposes that he was never truly a big fan of having a stick stuck up his ass at all times, the pointless etiquette and subtle power plays never came intuitively to him, even if he was forced to learn regardless.  “Well, keep waiting because you’re the last person I’d try to be polite with.”  “What could you possibly mean with such harsh words?” Divara giggled before continuing. “Though... I don’t particularly mind this Harold either.”  His heart skipped a beat at her words, who knew he needed validation that badly? “Why, that’s the closest you’ve ever come to complimenting me, it seems like my knightly charms are doing wonders already.”  She smirked before throwing him the skinned rabbit, it was excellently done. “What about you? It’s only fair if you tell me about yourself as well.”  She tilted her head and looked up to think, she spoke a moment later.   “How much do you know about Valcairn?”  “The Valcairn is a noble family that mostly focuses on trade and enterprise right? If I understand correctly your ancestor paid her way into the aristocracy.”  Divara gained a grim expression. “Well, imagine what my merchant parents felt like when it turns out their ‘genius’ heir wanted to abandon the line of succession to become a researcher. Father came around to the idea eventually, mother is still on the fence and my younger brother absolutely despises me for abandoning him.”  Harold’s eyes widened slightly in shock, they both had struggles with family then. Divara continued on.  “Father only began supporting me after praise started flowing in from my teachers. I think he expects me to rise to some leading position within the institute. My mother believes academia to be a waste of time regardless of talent or success.”  It was the first time he saw Divara truly be angry with someone.  “They just don’t get it. The art of discovery, it’s more magical than anything else in the world, a privilege for those with the heart to brave the unknown.” Silence settled after that, Harold considered his words for a while before taking the chance to speak up.  “But you still love them don’t you?” Divara gave a hushed ‘yeah’ in response.  “I realize this might be quite hypocritical for me to say but… Even if they’re not perfect, the family we're born to is the only one we'll ever have.” The same words that Evelin spoke to him before, it almost felt like he was passing on the torch.  He held out his pinky for a promise. “I’ll reconcile with my family if you promise me to do the same. Deal?” Divara took it after just a moment of consideration.  “Deal.”  Harold had to say, roasted rabbit after a deep conversation was absolutely delicious, it helped that it was technically him who made it, he’ll make sure to hold this over Divara’s head later. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  It felt strange to see a human built structure after weeks of wilderness, the massive walls of the frontier seemed so much smaller after having seen the trees of Reisegen Baum. It also felt quite strange to see a clear blue sky rather than a green expanse above, the ridiculousness of such a thought wasn’t lost upon him.  The sun shone overhead, having just reached its zenith, Harold had to just spread his arms and soak it in; after nearly a month spent in the Altena he was now just realising how moist his armor was, he couldn’t wait to sleep in a warm dry bed again.  Divara also appeared to be enjoying the sunlight, though her journey was still far from over. She still had to make her way back to the western region, on the other side of the continent.   Passage through Arlon gate was uneventful as always, though the site felt far more sinful than before now that he’s a friend of an elven scout, even if the scout in question wasn’t actually an elf. His words about the slaughter of the elves at this very gate suddenly felt a lot more personal, Vannol had likely lost people he knew, people he grew up with at this place.  After just half an hour, the pair of them were at the Mercenary’s guild wherein Divara declared their contract complete. She handed him a bank note from the western institute with his payment written on it, at a rate of one gold per day he was given a substantial portion of money. Spiced wine was suddenly back on his daily menu again after so long.  Divara gave him a look that was equal parts sad and fond. “You know you could head west with me right? You were a lifesaver throughout this entire expedition, both physically and mentally. I could probably argue for you to be considered a contributor to the published study.”   Harold almost bent right then and there. He wanted to go with her, he truly did; the last few weeks was the first time in his life he's felt so in his element, and, dare he say it, happy.  He shook his head as they left the guild. “Unfortunately I’ll have to reject your offer, I promised myself to make a life here in the frontier.”  She frowned, Harold felt some joy at knowing that she’d miss him as much as he’d miss her. Perhaps she was the first true friend he’s made in a long time, perhaps it was the same for her; neither of them were particularly easy to make genuine connections with.  “Wipe that frown off your face, you’re going to discover the mystery of the Altena aren’t you? You’ll be back soon enough, and I’ll be waiting right here to squeeze more gold out of the institute’s coffers.” He gave her a charming smile as he finished, he felt delighted when she laughed.  “It seems like spending some time with me has done wonders for Sir ‘Brute’, after I’m done with our second expedition together he’ll finally have the manners to be considered a human.”  She dramatically stopped in front of her horse before raising her arms. “Help me onto my horse Sir Brute!”  Despite the nickname, he couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, Princess Divara!”  He practically threw her onto her mount before slapping the equine from behind, the two of them wildly rode off through the streets. Harold waved cheerily as he watched them go, a bright soul indeed.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The lord of House Lyon sat in his office, looking over economic proposals to deal with the current shortage of timber. Current proposals included the planting of a new forest and the increased mining of stone to replace timber in construction works, neither one was a particularly favorable option.  It’ll take decades to reap the benefits of the first even if he were to call in experts from the western institute to accelerate the rate of growth. The second option was simply far too expensive, and it only somewhat alleviated the problem at hand while being the cause of a hundred others.  The quarrying of stone required timber, there was also the fact that wood had uses far beyond just building. If he didn’t find a proper solution quickly hundreds would likely freeze when winter eventually arrives.  Aberlin could feel a headache forming, he’ll have to consult with his steward before making any decisions, he’ll be the first to admit that he wasn’t the brightest when it came to managing the economy.  For now, he’ll deal with matters he had a natural aptitude for. The first reports from the army had begun to flow in, his effort to train a professional army had finally bore fruit. Each month more and more men and women signed up to join the Duke’s guard, forming the first eastern standing army in over five hundred years.  With the amount of money he was pouring into the military it was no surprise that his forces were swelling rapidly. The old aristocrats of the central region will just have to deal with it, they held no sway over matters out east, Aberlin had no interest in being caught off guard when the shitshow that was the Arlon region eventually boiled over.  The Arlon region, he got the urge to drink himself into a coma just thinking about the current situation there. An entire race shattered, the one responsible still in power, a dozen coups in the works.  In just the span of a single day he had received letters from six different would-be-revolutionaries, requesting military and political backing from Lyon. He responded to every single one of them, promising his support should they reach certain objectives such as gathering enough manpower to perform the coup in question.  He knew it was futile, the rigid structure of the frontier military meant every single soldier was under scrutiny, and any movement that could potentially be a threat would include too many people to slip by Joachim, he knew of the snake’s intelligence from personal experience.  No, any coup he offered support to stopped corresponding eventually, likely court martialed for ‘sabotaging the security of humanity’. Today’s new coup leader was an officer from the garrison, a Colonel of the Orchid Knights. Aberlin wrote the same letter as always, offering support for the even slight chance that this one will be successful.  Next up was…  Well, he certainly didn’t expect to receive a letter from his son. Harold, another source of his recent stress. The boy was always troublesome, constantly getting into fights and arguments because of his sharp tongue, but he never expected him to run away from home like that. At least it seemed like he was still alive.

To my most noble and honored father, Lord Aberlin of house Lyon and the Grand Duke of Goslar, I hope this letter finds you well.  
 Your foolish son would like to express a heartfelt apology for his most recent misconduct two months ago. Forgive me if the proceeding abandonment of my position at the academy has served to accentuate any worries about the safety of my being, I reassure you that I’m safe and am acting in accordance with the virtues of Lyon, as expected of my personal station.
 
 I have been staying in the lands of a knight by the name of Thomas of Speyer in the Arlon frontier region who most graciously allowed me to occupy a cabin in exchange for a fair portion of silver. Rather than sitting idly by, I have worked to uphold the honor of house Lyon by slaying an armored Troll that terrorised the honest people of Sonin and by working with Divara of house Valcairn, a scholar of the Western Institute of Research, to study a leaf cutter nest for the advancement of human wisdom.
 
 I have been awarded a substantial portion of gold for my service despite my insistence otherwise. During the recent months I have learned much of the world and the true value of money and would like to humbly apologise for my liberal spending of gold on non practical matters during my excursion at the academy.
 
 Aside from the significant advances of magic and our understanding of the world that was made during this expedition, I have also been contacted by the honorable Chief Sigvald Falkenspeer, General of the northern scouts and an elder council of the United elven clan of Wolgast. 
 
 Led by Oberyn Von Falkenhiem, the great grandson and legitimate descendent of High chieftain Aldric Von Falkenheim, the United Clan of Wolgast seeks the honorable restoration of the elven people to their rightful place in the western Altena and requests the support of house Lyon in their coming declaration of restoration and dishonorable discharge of Arlon Marshal Joachim.
 
 Understanding my position within the house of Lyon, I have made no binding agreements or promises and have deferred such talks to the head of the house. General Sigvald currently offers favorable trade deals with the house of Lyon for the Bounty of Altena and also offers free and safe access to any person bearing the Lyon coat-of-arms. 
 
 The note I have attached to the letter should detail procedures to make contact with the United Clan of Wolgast, I hope you’d at least consider the possibility of offering support, the tyranny of Joachim has gone unpunished for too long.
 
 Regarding my return home, I would like to beg for your forgiveness as, in light of my misconduct at the academy during the incident with Jacob of Aachen, I cannot return to Goslar until I have proven my virtue in both body and spirit. Only once I have proven myself deserving of absolution will I arrive in person to apologize for my misdeeds.
 
 I’d like to reassert once again, I’m healthy in both mind and spirit. Please reassure mother, sister and my brothers to have a peace of mind knowing I’m fine.
 
 Your Honorable son Harold of Lyon. May God keep you in good health and high honor, as is your due.

Aberlin had to sigh in exasperation as he read through the letter, of course his son is in the most turmoil stricken land in all of southern humanity. No rest for the wicked he supposed. 
 ‘You could’ve just come back home. What need is there for all of this? A parent’s love isn’t so easily lost.’
  Though he supposed his son may have some more reflecting to do, apologies for his misconduct yet no effort was made to mention where his failure lied; promises to prove himself yet nothing about what that truly meant.  Thomas of Speyer, that’s a name from long ago. Yes, it’ll do his son some good to spend time with the veteran, his is a wisdom gained through the greatest triumphs of humanity.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Harold’s return to the farmstead was met with much jubilation, mostly by the children. Apparently he had somewhat of a following, almost half the boys and even some of the girls decided that their dream was to become a knight like him and Thomas.   Though he suspected sir Thomas to be the much bigger influence, Harold’s youth likely just made it easier to relate to for the children and made it seem more plausible.  He was currently regaling them with his fight against the leafcutter major, though he made sure to exclude the presence of the elves. His story telling skills definitely needed some more work, the children’s uninterested faces during the first bit of his story being the proof.  Half-way through Harold decided to focus less on the technical details and more on overexaggerated theatrics, it seemed to be doing wonders.  “And then, with nothing but a lance in hand, I took on the massive beast in a match of strength, trees were toppled as I was pushed back, the earth rumbling as we fought for dominance!” The children somehow believed the ridiculous claim, they were listening with rapt attention now.  “While the beast tired from its charge, I only grew ever stronger and soon enough I had entirely stopped it in its tracks. Alas, even if my strength was that of a giant, my lance could only handle so much. My weapon shattered in my hands and in less than a second the beast was trying to tear through my armor with its wicked mandibles.” Gasps rang out among the small crowd.  “But then, I was saved by a goddess of moonlight riding a dragon, the beast stood no chance against its great fire, armor pierced like paper. Using the moment of distraction I grabbed my blade and stabbed… then the great beast was no more” Claps and cheers rang out, Harold felt some pride knowing that his ability to entertain children had improved so much since the last time he tried to tell a story.  That pride was shattered when the dreaded volley came. By his estimate, there were at least 10 questions being thrown his way for every second that passed. His salvation came in the form of Sir Thomas, the old knight dispersed the enemy with just a few words yelled in mock anger, the children all ran away laughing.  “Sir Harold.” He nodded in greeting, Harold returned the gesture.  “It’s good to see you safe, with how long you’ve been gone most people assumed you left or… worse.” He said, disapproval clearly evident in his voice.  He never did tell them how long he’ll be gone for, did he? “Forgive me Sir Thomas, I went on an expedition to Reisegen Baum. I should’ve told you before I left.”  Thomas eyed him for a moment before sighing. “See that you do. I’m sure Evelin will be glad to see you, you worried her to death with your absence.”  “...I’m very sorry sir.” It felt like he was being chided by father, he supposed they were quite close in age and mannerism, though Sir Thomas much more easy going in comparison.  
  68th day of Humanus 
 
 Evelin has refused to let me go out on another contract since my return, as a punishment for my idiocy—
  “Train me!” Evelin suddenly said during one of their reading sessions by the grove.  “What?” Was his dumbfounded response.  “Train me! In fighting, riding and surviving.” Her eyes had a fire burning within as she said those words.  “Why?”  “We’re living on the frontier, what do you mean ‘why?’. Everyone needs to be prepared for danger.” She was being uncharacteristically pushy, where did the girl that blushes at the slightest compliment go?  “I mean, sure, but where did this suddenly come from?”  Evelin scoffed, Harold was somehow getting the impression she was mad at something. “There’s nothing sudden about it. I’ve been begging father for nearly a year now, but he always makes up an excuse to avoid training me despite his promise to do so. I can count the number of sessions we’ve had on one hand.”  She shook her head, still scowling. “It doesn’t matter, train me! Consider it punishment for worrying me to death with your disappearance.”  Well, he couldn’t just reject a lady’s passionate words now could he? “I’ll train you, but in exchange I want you to give me advice on cooking.”  A radiant smile bloomed upon her face, Harold almost had a heart attack. Too precious.  “Come on! Let’s have our first session right now, I’ll bring training swords.” She ran off before he was able to get another word in, she certainly had the athletics down to a pat.

70th day of humanus
 
  As it turns out, almost everyone from the farmstead is trained to at least some degree. Sir Thomas conducts weekly drills and apparently doesn’t allow Evelin to join. This time however, she asked me to—
 Sir Thomas was glaring a hole into his back at the moment. Harold couldn’t see it, but he certainly could feel it as he corrected Evelin’s stance once again.  “Put your right leg forward a little more, you’ll trip over yourself with a stance like that.” She was actually much better than most newbies, not to mention her great stamina. He was surprised at Thomas’ refusal to teach her.   She had talent, and with training from a veteran like her father, could probably join the Orchid Knights if she so wished. Even with their reputation of being selective, the fact that they made up a significant portion of the garrison’s heavy cavalry was proof enough that it wasn’t impossible.  Harold wasn’t a great teacher, so he instead turned to the traditional method—beating the skills into the student. Though he made sure to not injure her, limiting it to minor bruises at most.  A swing from Evelin was sidestepped with ease, he locked her hands against her body before pushing with all his weight, her stance shattered like glass as she fell.  “A fight between two warriors is closer to a brawl than a duel, be prepared to get physical with your opponent.”  Evelin nodded in understanding before getting up for another round, the farmers who were also making use of the training grounds chuckled at the sight of the normally composed Thomas losing his temper over such a small matter.

73rd day of Humanus
 
 I was approached by a small mercenary band of fourteen named the ‘Hual Riders’ today, I’ve supposedly made somewhat of a name for myself. I didn’t join the band as an official member, I did however go on a contract to guard a merchant caravan with them. I ended up meeting—
   Harold was struggling to keep up with the current conversation. Hugo was a ball of peppy energy, and the only mercenary Harold had met who was younger than him. Judging from his decent plate harness, he was likely the son of a smaller noble house who came to the frontier seeking adventure.  Hugo was also apparently a big fan of Lyon for being the leaders of the new aristocracy movement. “The words of Lord Aberlin, ‘I decree upon these lands a meritocratic aristocracy’. It inspired me to don my harness and prove myself to the world! It truly is an honor to meet you Sir.” The black haired boy excitedly said.  Harold didn’t know of such words ever being spoken by his father, so he was fairly certain it was fake.  “Ah! About the proclamation of—” Harold tuned out his words after that. It was almost as bad as Divara, except Hugo had none of the charm. This was going to be a long day.   
  74th day of Humanus 
 
 I finally got Evelin to cook with me today. With my newfound wealth from the expedition I was able to refurbish the entire kitchen. 
 
 It didn’t start out great—
  “That’s too much water! And reduce the fire a little, we don’t want to burn the house down!” As it turns out, Evelin is not a gentle teacher as one would expect, or perhaps he was just that bad. She never swore at him, it was the condescending tone that contrasted so sharply with her normal demeanor that scared him.   It’s fine though, he was confident he’d learn quickly under her stern guidance.  “Why are you just pouring the spices from the bottle like that?! Use a spoon to measure how much you’re putting in, you’ll burn someone’s mouth off!” He’d have to if he didn’t want to get skinned alive.   —but I was able to get something done eventually.     Harold smiled as he tasted the broth, it was great! Much better than what he made before. He nodded in satisfaction, happy with himself. He decidedly ignored the words of the exhausted girl sitting across the table.  “It could‘ve turned out worse I suppose, at least this won’t poison anyone.”   Yes, his broth turned out great.  He decided to shift the conversation to something else. “Have you ever wished to join the Orchid army?” he asked.   The Orchid army, the female division of the frontier military. While hardly the majority, they still made up a significant portion of frontier forces, around one-in-five if he had to guess.  Evelin shook her head. “Not really, I was never really interested in fighting, the only reason I’m training now is to make sure father stops worrying about me all the time.”  Right, the somewhat strained relationship between Thomas and Evelin was public knowledge. Despite his relatively short stay here, Harold had already stumbled upon one of their arguments. The old knight supposedly had a habit of promising her more freedom to do as she wished just to go back on his words later on.  He certainly didn’t envy the situation. Harold also had his fair share of arguments with his father, but those conflicts were made much simpler thanks to the fact that they didn’t really live under the same roof due to Harold spending most of his days at the academy with only the occasional trip back home.  Having an argument with someone just to share breakfast with that person the next morning? He could only imagine the awkwardness.  He hoped the two of them would resolve their issues soon; family shouldn’t be fighting amongst one another.

79th day of Humanus
 
 I have claimed a decisive victory today in my struggle to tame the children here. They’ve been watching Thomas’ drills and Evelin’s training sessions. They were ecstatic when I offered to teach them today, their ecstasy instantly became groaning when I—
  “FALL IN!” He yelled out at the top of his lungs, the children quickly ran to form a column. It was a monumental struggle, but Harold was finally able to convince them that marching was a cool knightley thing to do.  He took his place at the front of the column. “FORWARD, STANDARD PACE!” He began beating the makeshift drum he made out of a bucket and a fire stoker, they all began to march in unison.  He could see Thomas also doing marching drills with the adults, they were obviously faster and more organized in comparison, but that did little to stop the rascals from yelling out taunts and challenges to their parents and older siblings.  They were both marching in circles, and came across each other several times as a result. On the third meeting, Thomas issued a race between the two forces, the children all agreed to do it before their commander could get even a single word in.  Either Harold was a terrible officer, or this group was harder to control than a drunk bull. Harold decided to attribute it as a combination of the two.  Patt signalled the beginning of the race before leaving. He supposedly had paperwork to sort out, Harold didn’t miss the stink eye he gave to Thomas.  Likely Thomas’ paperwork then.  Thomas purposefully set a slow pace to give the children some fighting chance, and Harold probably would’ve won if he managed to retain control over his squad.   Bending to the incessant demands of higher speed, Harold set an unsustainable pace, resulting in half their forces lying on the ground exhausted not even half-way through.  Thomas and the adults laughed their asses off as they slowly walked past them, Harold joined them in their laughter despite his loss.  
  82nd day of Humanus 
 
 I worked with the Hual Riders again today, a job to escort a caravan from the same merchant as before. The contract ended up being cut short due to an emergency on the client’s end. We still got half our pay which was great considering the fact that we didn’t actually do anything beyond showing up. We spent the day—
  “ONE, TWO, THREE…” What Harold assumed to be a lot of people screamed around him as he and his opponent emptied a mug. He couldn’t actually tell what he was drinking or how many people were watching in light of the fact that he was shitfaced.   It had started out innocently enough, the Hual Riders all blowing a few silver in a tavern to celebrate easy money.  An hour later Harold somehow got himself into a drinking competition with Hugo and another member of the band named Randy. Hugo was knocked out cold just a few minutes in, not surprising considering it was his first time drinking. Randy and Harold on the other hand… the two of them have been at it for long enough that every eye of the tavern was on them.  Bets were being made on who would be the winner. Harold was clearly the underdog, his experience with drinking being mostly limited to spiced wine, not hard alcohol. Randy on the other hand was a famed reveller of the Haul Riders, known well among taverns for being a happy drunk capable of drinking a shipment dry by his lonesome. "Ya sh-should jus’ toss in th’ towel, b-boy y’ain’t beatin’— burp —tolerance built up o-over y-years’a hard drinkin’!" "Ha! H-havin’ regrets, ol’ man? Y’sure y’can keep goin’? I-I wouldn’ wanna b-bury yer ol’ bones come m-mornin’!" Despite his confident words Harold knew he was losing. He had reached his limit three mugs ago, and if the words of the audience was to be believed, Randy still had quite a few left until he reached his record.  “H-hah, bottoms up!” The moment he was half way through, Harold knew it was over. He dropped his mug and ran through the backdoor to empty his stomach. He could distinctively hear Randy slam his empty mug down as he let out a boisterous laugh.  Their drinking had taken quite a while, but the night was still young. Harold never realized how or when, but he somehow ended up in front of a brothel with Randy. He supposed it couldn’t hurt, it’s been a while since his last tumble.  The older mercenary was clearly a regular, he immediately left for a room with a curvy brunette. In his drunken stupor Harold ended up getting a room, the headmistress promising to send him ‘something good’ since he didn’t have anyone specific in mind.  In a few minutes, he was met with the sight of blonde hair. Even with his swirling vision he could make out her long ears, she was an elf. His gaze lowered to her body, the skimpy clothes most prostitutes wore left little to the imagination, her lithe form was free for all the world to see. Her appearance somewhat reminded him of Divara.  She settled down on the bed, Harold lowered her back onto the bed before leaning over her. He thought he saw fear in her eyes, though he wasn't really sure; it's not like really mattered anyway.  He slowly began to undress her, starting from the top. But when he lowered her gown, he didn't see silky smooth skin as he expected.  A deep purple hue bloomed across her shoulder, the edges tinged with a sickly yellow. It was swollen, puffy to the touch, and looked as if it might ache with every movement. The sight quickly sobered his thoughts.  It wasn't just the one, the elf was injured across her entire body. Some looked days old, some hours... some were just beginning to swell.  The worst part of the sight was that Harold knew she wasn’t a slave, the practice having been completely outlawed in the frontier.  “H-How much do you get paid for this?” The elf stayed quiet for a long while. Harold waited patiently.  When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper. “...t-two copper”  ...He was paying three silver to the brothel. Harold let out a deep sigh, for what else could he do?  After a long silence, he left the brothel after giving the elf five silver. Shame filled his heart for having considered it at all. This was blemish upon his honor he wouldn't forget for a long time to come.

84th day of Humanus
 
 I haven’t gone on a contract since the incident at the brothel.
 
 I took a walk through Alanfer to truly take in the city, and I’m ashamed to have not realized the sins that run rampant throughout the metropolis until now. It feels as though slavery has been reinstated in the city, with the elves being the target of the abhorrent practice.
 
 Though technically not owned by masters, their desperation is being exploited by the worst of society. Elves perform terribly in manual labor due to their small frames yet are being made to do the most dangerous tasks for nothing more than scraps. 
   A silver mine near Sonin is apparently employing a large number of elves for their thin bodies, sent to squeeze through god knows what. From what I’ve heard, the casualties there have passed three hundred in just the last month. 
 And… Well, the less said about brothels the better.

88th day of Humanus

The fall festival is arriving in just three days, and to celebrate the people of Thomas’ estate are… Building a new windmill… Never a moment’s rest with these people is there?—
  “READY! PULL!!!” Almost every man of the farmstead yelled at once, Thomas and Harold each directing a group of men to pull up a massive 5 bladed sail. Another group of men led by Patt worked to fix it in place. They’ve been at it for two weeks, and are finally completing construction.   The fact that they were able to build it so quickly was a miracle courtesy of Patt, the former quartermaster certainly knew how to get things done.  They all cheered as the mill began to turn, the fruits of their labor on show.  As they waited for the first bit of flour, men gathered in a circle to wrestle, a tradition that had started just a few days before Harold joined the construction works. Cheers rang out as Harold’s opponent roughly met the ground, he was still unbeaten.  He had literally wiped the floor with every other contestant, not surprising considering he was the only one who had formal training. The only other person who did was—  “For the last time. No, I’m not joining.” Thomas said.  Patt grinned. “What? You afraid of young Harold? What happened to the Knight of Speyer, hero of the frontier? He’d never run away from some random greenhorn!” Thomas looked at him for a moment before scoffing and taking off his shirt. It seems like Harold’s title as champion would be challenged after all.  Harold observed his opponent. Thomas was clearly well conditioned, especially for someone of his age, but he was still two weight classes below Harold’s tanky build. This should be easy— —Harold’s back met the ground for the third time. Thomas stood over him, still not a speck of dirt on him. Everyone cheered at his defeat, their lord had avenged the bruised backs and egos built up over the last few weeks.  “You could do with more restraint.” The old knight said matter-of-factly as he turned to leave, Harold was left completely dumbfounded. Who was Thomas exactly?

1st day of Dimidius
 
 The fall festival along with a new season has arrived. With the harvest starting in just two weeks we’ve all decided to blow through the last of our stores in celebration. According to Patt, this year is looking to be a record-breaking harvest.
 
 The celebration began with a few words from Thomas as we watched the sunset, after that—
  The air was thick with the smell of fresh bread and beer, complimented by the aroma roasted pork “Come on Harold, just one more mug!” Patt drunkenly yelled, Harold rejected the offer. He’s been hesitant about drinking since—  His thoughts were put to an end as the music started. An old folk-song Harold didn’t know the name of.   Some sang, others began to dance. Harold did neither, he only knew waltzes and famed classical songs; it was in moments like this that he realized he was somewhat of an outsider, even if it didn’t really feel like it anymore.  It’d be for the best if he didn’t make a fool of himself on such an occasion. This was their festival, not hi—  “Come on! What are you sitting there for?” Evelin suddenly pulled him into the fray.  “I-I don’t know how—”   “What is there to know? Just move with me!” It appeared as though he no longer held agency over his actions.   He did his best to keep up with her. With sudden swings and wild movements of arms Harold couldn't really describe, it was nothing like a Minuet or a Viennese. Despite the struggle, he found himself enjoying every moment of it either way, perhaps it was simply thanks to the company.  Evelin wore traditional grabs. A vibrant tunic decorated with colorful patterns over a simple white dress. With her snow-white hair tied into a braid using seasonal flowers, she almost looked like a forest spirit of some kind. Her beauty comparable to that of an angel made descent.  He said that last part out loud, didn’t he?   Judging from his partner's furious blush, that seemed to be the case.   Harold laughed as he literally swept Evelin off her feet, raising her by the waist whilst spinning in circles. Her surprise ‘yelp’ only served to make her seem even more adorable, she was too precious for this world.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The countryside surrounding Alanfer was almost idyllic, green hills and fields of grass stretching out to infinity, with only the distant blue Otgon mountains as proof of a wider world beyond the pastures.  An occasional herd of cattle would look up to observe the two dozen men and five wagons passing by, their lazy eyes never fully opening. A herder from Sonin waved at them, Harold returned the greeting, trying his best to ignore Hugo who just would. not. shut. up.   Harold thought it impossible to talk about the new aristocracy movement for more than an hour, it was a fairly simple ideology. Serve the people, meritocracy over nepotism, protect the innocent.  Harold thought it impossible for it to be a topic of conversation for more than an hour, Hugo decided he’s going to rant about it for three hours straight, not to mention their previous conversations (if it could even be called that).  The worst part was that Harold couldn’t tell him off, he had duty to house Lyon to support the movement, and getting mad at a young noble for annoying him did not align with that duty.   So he just had to endure. And maybe observe the cattle more, they certainly had better things to say compared to Hugo.  Somehow, it just kept stretching on. Three hours turned into four, then five, then six. They visited three towns of various sizes to make deliveries and buy goods, but it kept stretching on and on and on.    After however much time had passed, something other than Hugo filled his ears. He would have cheered, had it not been for the fact that it was a battle cry. It appeared as though their employer was getting his money's worth today.  From the top of a hill rode out over a dozen riders, headed by two well armored men; one plate and the other a brigandine. All deserters from the garrison or the reserve.  Harold prepared his lance and formed a small wedge along with the other men of the Hual Riders, Harold was placed at the front for his excellent armor.   Walk, trot, canter, gallop. It was his first true battle against other people, he couldn’t help but feel excited about the notion, even  if he couldn’t figure out why. Of course you know why.     No different from jousting, he told himself.   Just as the two lines neared, Harold lowered his elven lance, aiming at the most well armored foe. Contact.   The bandit with the plate harness was a second too slow, he was thrown off of his mount by the force of the hit, even if it failed to pierce.  Harold never had the chance to celebrate his victory, he was lassoed and brought off of Atlas by another bandit. But Harold's ability to grapple on horseback was not to be underestimated, he dragged the lightly armored bandit down with him as he fell.  Harold recovered first, in less than a second the dagger on his waist found the throat of his opponent. He was tackled by the plated bandit just a moment later, the man appeared to be struggling to breathe thanks to the massive dent in his chest plate made by Harold. The two men fiercely struggled for dominance, but the winner became clear in just a few moments  Harold had the bandit in a chokehold, he once again drew his dagger and stabbed. It failed to pierce.  Harold kept stabbing, hoping to find a gap in his enemy's defenses. Eventually, the dagger came out red, and the bandit stopped moving.  Harold's mouth morphed into a grin at the sight of blood. He told himself it was simply because he had cleansed the world of a villian, there was nothing sinful about the warmth in his chest. The bandits clearly weren’t well prepared, the Hual Riders had wiped them out while only sustaining a few non-serious injuries themselves. One of the wagons caught fire and burned down during the attack, but the driver and the horses were fine. Most of the other mercenaries gleefully looted the bodies, the only exception being Hugo.  The boy was standing over a corpse with a bloody lance, his eyes shaking in horror. Harold approached and moved to put his hand on Hugo’s shoulders, perhaps with some notion of offering comfort. Hugo dropped his lance and collapsed onto his knees before he could.  Harold decided it was probably for the best to leave him alone for now.  Harlan—the leader of the caravan—made the decision to camp nearby for the night; the attack needed to be reported to the garrison, both to identify the attackers and to receive compensation if the bandits were garrison or reserve deserters, which they almost certainly were.  The Hual riders grumbled, they hadn’t planned to stay the night and had no camping supplies as a result, but a promise of extra pay from Harlan shut them up.   Harold set up a makeshift bedroll using Atlas’ saddle and barding, really nothing more than a bit of leather to keep him from touching the dirt. He was greatly worried for his sanity when Hugo settled down next to him, even more so when the boy was completely silent.  There was something inherently wrong about him being quiet. Harold considered a dozen different things to say, none of them seemed particularly helpful.  The one to eventually break the silence was Hugo.  “...How do you get used to it?” He asked.  “What?”   “How do you get used to the killing?” he explained. “The emptiness that settles into the gut. I… I knew I’d have to kill eventually but…but…” Hugo appeared to be struggling to find his words, Harold waited patiently.  “I didn’t expect to feel such a… rush of power, to feel good about myself.” Both his voice and his body shook as he spoke, Hugo turned to stare at him with eyes filled with shame. “It terrifies me…”  “H-How do you get used to it?” He asked with great desperation, his face turned crestfallen at Harold’s response.  “I don’t know” He truly didn’t. After all, Harold also killed for the first time just hours ago. He felt the rush of power, yet found none of the shame, none of the emptiness.   The only thing he recalled was a warmth in his chest.   Hugo continued to stare at him, as if he was expecting Harold to continue. He only received silence in return.  The boy eventually lied down, likely contemplating what he did today. Harold did the same.  The guilt of killing. Harold desperately looked through every nook and cranny of his heart for it, yet found none.    It’s because they were bandits. He told himself, the moment they abandoned their humanity to rob another, they had also forfeit their right to sympathy.  They had no humanity, that’s why he felt no guilt.

They set out early the next day, making deliveries to various villages across the countryside. Harlan’s caravan didn’t peddle goods and prices, it was closer to a delivery service. Planning out trips days in advance and transporting goods between sellers and buyers.  Hugo stayed downcast the entire time, his brown bangs concealing his eyes.  Harold was pleasantly surprised when they eventually stopped at Sonin, the livestock village hadn’t changed one bit since he fought the troll nearly two months ago.   Rather than immediately begin unloading the cargo like they had before, Harlan left the caravan to speak to the village chief. It seemed like they were going to wait here for a while, Harold didn’t really mind. In just the few minutes since their arrival, several villagers approached him to give their respects and thank him once again. It felt good knowing you’ve helped people.  In the distance, the same little girl who made him a crown of flowers excitedly waved at him; it seemed like the little lady recognized him. Harold couldn’t help but smile at her delighted squeak when he made a motion of putting a crown on his head before gesturing a ‘thank you’.  The pleasant moment abruptly ended when angry yelling was heard from where Harlan was.  A moment later the merchant came running to the caravan with a bleeding nose, the mayor and a few other men hot in pursuit. The now dismounted Hual Riders immediately formed a phalanx to prevent the villagers from reaching Harlan, Harold joined them.  Safe behind his mercenaries, Harlan turned back to yell at the mayor. “I told you! The shipment was burnt down in a bandit attack, there’s nothing I can do about that!”  The mayor yelled back. “You promised the safe delivery of that grain! We planned it out weeks in advance, we blew through our stores during the fall festival because you were supposed to bring us that shipment!”  Men and women were beginning to gather at the sounds of the commotion, none looked happy.   “And I keep telling you, there’s nothing I can do about that! Until the harvest begins in a few weeks no one is going to be selling grain anymore. You’re just going to have to figure it out amongst yourselves!”  A dozen outraged people argued back, some beginning to press up against the Hual riders. More villagers arrived, most holding spears and farming tools.  “You expect us to starve?! I can see a wagon full of grain right there, sell us that!”   “That’s a shipment bound for the Alanfer garrison. The guards will skin me alive if I don’t deliver!”  “We’ll skin you alive if you don’t sell!” “At least pay us back for the delivery!” “You have to do something!”  The argument continued to escalate, both the mayor and Harlan could no longer be heard over the angry yelling of three dozen people. The Hual riders tightened their ranks, some preparing to draw their weapons as the villagers began to push the mercenaries in an attempt to reach Harlan.  Shoving turned into hitting as tension increased, the mercenaries began shouting threats to make the villagers back off, it only seemed to stoke the fire further.  A scream of pain, the spilling of blood. A metallic smell alerting every single person in the area.  Harold didn’t know whose it was. Perhaps one of the riders lost their nerve, perhaps a villager decided to force their way through the phalanx using cold steel.   All Harold knew was the chaos that followed. The mayor was cut down where he stood by Randy, one of the lighter armored riders received a hoe to the head. Someone standing in front of Harold swung a shovel at him, Harold parried and stabbed in response.  In just a few moments a dozen bodies hit the ground. In a minute almost half the Hual riders, veterans of the frontier with years of experience, were killed by herders and farmers. Not one of the villagers were spared.  Harold didn’t know how many people he killed, but it must’ve been many. No skill or thought was needed here. He simply swung his blade, and another corpse was added to the list.  A young boy no older than sixteen, a woman who had just likely celebrated her twentieth year alive, an elder who had probably seen seventy springs. They all fell, no different from the rest.  A middle aged man turned to run away from him, Harold gave chase. He thought the man looked somewhat familiar, but he ignored the feeling. 
 Such thoughts were worthless when compared to the thrill of victory.
  The man tripped in his panic, Harold’s blade met his throat just a moment later.    Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a blur run towards him. Harold prepared his stance and turned to the new attacker.   His opponent stopped, they were shaking in terror. He’d have called them a coward, had it not been for the fact it wasn’t an enemy at all. It was the same little girl as before, glancing between him and the corpse at his feet.  A single broken whisper was carried by the wind as tears began to flow from her shocked eyes.   “Father?”   …That’s why the man seemed so familiar, it was the little girl’s father. He suddenly recalled each person whom he had just cut down.  Just two months ago they… 
 “How do you get used to it?” “It terrifies me…” “The emptiness that settles into the gut.”
  Harold searched desperately for the emptiness described by Hugo, for the guilt that should be plaguing the heart of any human being for having slaughtered another.  He only found a warmth in his chest and a sense of power that waned into a single feeling directed at the fallen. The same feeling that’s haunted every victory that came easily. A feeling that could only be described as—  ‘ Pathetic’     —contempt.  He suddenly remembered every single teaching of house Lyon, every nugget of wisdom his father had bestowed upon him, every word of advice his mother had seen fit to part with. They all pointed to the sheer wrongness of this situation.  He reached out his hands towards the girl, she screamed in horror as she backed away. For the first time, Harold noticed his gauntlets, they were steeped in the blood of the innocent. Down his blade it flowed, settling into a puddle drip by drip.    With his downcast eyes he saw himself in its reflection. Yet, they were no longer the ruby on his ring, instead having turned into a swirling pool crimson, not so different from the liquid that reflected it.  It felt like his entire world was collapsing in on him, nothing made sense.   This is all just a dream , he wished to tell himself, that in just a moment he’ll wake up and be hounded by Evelin for another training session.   Yet the eyes of the girl banished any such thought. A monster like him wouldn’t be capable of dreaming of such a look; filled with a mix of terror, betrayal and loss. It was too real, too guttural, too human.  Harold didn’t know when he began running, nor did he know if he mounted the right horse. It didn’t matter, he just had to get away from here, away from the beast that had cut down the father of that girl.    To Evelin? Thomas? Vannol? Divara?    To father.    He’d know what to do. Father was always right.   He’ll tell Harold what to do, he’ll tell Harold what was right.