The dining hall was alive with the mingling scents of smoked fish, wild mushroom stew, freshly baked rye bread, and the faint tang of fermented mead. Smoke curled upward from the central fire pit, its warmth provided a welcoming relief against the sharp chill of the mountain air oozing through the stone walls. Timber beams, darkened with age and soot, stretched overhead, and the flickering light of torches cast shadows across the faces of the gathered crowd.
Timur, the leader of the Eleftheroi, sat at the head of the long table, his imposing figure made more so by the animal pelts draped over his shoulders. His piercing eyes, a sharp contrast to the weathered lines of his face, surveyed us as we settled into our places. I found myself seated near the centre, Nathanos on my right and Abda to my left. The atmosphere was warm, yet there was a noticeable weight due to the gathering, an unspoken recognition of the Eleftheroi’s storied history and resilience reached our ears.
Timur raised a wooden goblet, its rim glinting in the firelight. “To our guests, the men and women of Nova,” he began, his voice rich and commanding. “Your reputation precedes you. Not just from the tournament but from your deeds beyond. You have my respect.”
He continued “ To the winners of the tournament and the group that got rid of Embers of Flame.”
The hall erupted in cheers, the sound hearty and genuine. I inclined my head in gratitude, catching a glimpse of Ruslan, Timur’s elder son, at the far end of the table. His dark hair and confident demeanour marked him as a leader in the making, though there was a hint of restlessness in his gaze.
As the meal progressed, Timur leaned forward, addressing me directly. “I must admit, I first heard of Nova through my son and niece. They returned from the tournament, their pride tempered but their spirits unbroken. Azlynn, especially, spoke highly of your group.”
Nathanos shifted slightly beside me, but Timur’s attention remained fixed on me. “Skolderbroda—I warned my children of them before they left. Seasoned mercenaries, veterans of countless battles. To hear that a new group like yours bested them in a team fight… it is no small feat.”
“We had our share of luck,” I replied modestly, though Timur’s faint smile suggested he saw through my humility.
He gestured broadly, his goblet momentarily forgotten. “Luck, perhaps, but still cannot be denied. It is the mark of valour we Eleftheroi hold dear. Our people—we value strength, resilience, and the will to face adversity head-on. It is why, when the time comes, my son will take his place as leader of our tribe. But…” He paused, his gaze flicking toward Ruslan, who met it with a mixture of pride and uncertainty. “There are lessons he cannot learn here.”
The hall grew quieter, the conversation around us fading as Timur’s words commanded attention. “Ruslan is good. He is strong. But he has not seen the world beyond these mountains. He has not faced the challenges that forge a true leader. Augustus,” he said.
His eyes locked onto mine, “I would have him join your group.”
In our culture, it is important for the prince to be educated abroad and to serve in a foreign military for his development. I intend to send him to the Southern Empire in a few years, but first, he must experience the outside world and learn its customs.
The surprise must have shown on my face because Timur chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. “I know it is an unusual request, but he can learn much from you and your people. The way you conduct yourselves, the way you command respect—these are things he must see and understand.”
Before I could respond, Timur’s gaze shifted to Nathanos. “And my niece, Azlynn. She has… expressed a fondness for you.”
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Nathanos blinked, his usual composure momentarily faltering. “Azlynn is skilled,” Timur continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “A remarkable horse archer, one of the best among us. But she is also headstrong. She saw you at the tournament and has spoken of little else since.”
“I see,” Nathanos managed, his tone carefully neutral.
Timur leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “In the Southern Empire, she would not be accepted into a noble house as she is not my direct descendant. They think of us as barbarians they will never accept my niece in their proud families,” he said, the word laced with disdain. “But here, we value deeds over lineage. If she wishes to pursue this path, I will not stand in her way.”
“If Nathanos has no objections, neither do I,” I said carefully, glancing at my companion. His face betrayed nothing, but I made a mental note to discuss this with him later.
I continued "I believe it would be better for them to interact to understand one another. We should avoid rushing or forcing these decisions upon them."
Timur nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Then it is settled. Ruslan will join you, and Azlynn’s path… will be hers and Nathanos to decide.”
The conversation shifted after that, Timur speaking at length about the Eleftheroi’s traditions and their enduring struggle against the Khuzait. As he spoke, Abda leaned closer to me, her voice a soft murmur. “Did you know some of the herbs I collected today are unique to these mountains? They’ve been used for generations by the Eleftheroi to treat everything from infections to fevers.”
“I had no idea,” I admitted, intrigued. “What else grows here?”
She continued talking about some of the flowers and herbs.
I tried to remember her words. Knowledge of such resources could prove invaluable in the days ahead.
As the evening wore on, the mood in the hall grew lighter, laughter and the clinking of goblets filling the air. Timur eventually rose, signalling the end of the meal. “You are our guests tonight,” he said, his tone warm. “Rest well. I am looking forward to your answers tomorrow.”
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As the fire crackled gently in the corner of the hut, I turned to Nathanos, who sat on a low stool, sharpening his sword with slow, intentional strokes. His face, usually calm and composed, held a faint trace of unease, and I decided it was time to address the topic that had been on my mond since dinner.
“Nathanos,” I began, keeping my tone light, “how was your talk with Azlynn? She seemed… eager to know you better.”
He paused mid-stroke, the whetstone hovering above the blade. “It was… fine,” he said after a moment, his voice betraying a hint of shyness.
“Fine?” I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “You know, if this marriage idea isn’t something you want, no one—least of all me—will force you into it. This is your life, your choice. I just want you to be clear about what you want.”
Nathanos looked up, his cheeks faintly flushed. “It’s not that I’m against it,” he admitted, his voice quieter.
Before I could respond, Sora, who had been lounging on a nearby cot, chimed in with a mischievous grin. “Well, I did have a little chat with her during dinner.”
Both Nathanos and I turned to her, and she sat up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “She seems nice, straightforward in a way that’s rare for someone with her background. And,” she added, smirking as her gaze shifted to Nathanos, “I think someone here is more interested than he’s letting on.”
“I—” Nathanos started, his words stumbling as he tried to find a response.
“Relax,” Sora said with a laugh. “No one’s rushing you. But, for what it’s worth, she seems genuinely interested in you, not just because you’re the big, strong champion everyone’s talking about.”
Nathanos gave a sheepish nod, his hand resuming its work on the blade. I decided to let the matter rest for now, though a small smile tugged at my lips as I watched him wrestle with his feelings. For a man who could face a dozen enemies without flinching, this seemed to be his greatest challenge yet.
As I lay on my cot, staring at the flickering firelight, Timur’s words echoed in my mind. Ruslan joining Nova, Azlynn’s getting married to Nathanos—these developments promised to shape our group in ways I had yet to fully grasp. For now, though, I let the day’s weight settle, allowing myself a brief reprieve of sleep before the challenges ahead.