The entire village was put to the torch. If there were any survivors, then they were long gone by now. Only the dead inhabited this place, and the rigor mortis had set in. A grotesque scene to ruin a once picturesque scenery. At least, he imagined so.

Even the children weren't spared. The youngest was only a few months old toddlers. Some were tossed aside like so much as dirty laundry, and some had their heads bashed in with a heavy blunt instrument. A hammer, most likely.

Sy knew this would be painful for the girl, so he wasn't at all surprised when Alliea broke down in tears. The girl fell to the ground, rocking back and forth, her arms around her knees. Shaking. Vánagandr comforted her, in so much as a woman can without an ounce of motherly instinct in her. The bartender did the best she could, and that had to count.

They needed the privacy, so he made himself scarce.

He looked through the bodies of the dead; the few he found were under the rubbles of burnt homes. They must have been trapped within their own homes when the thatched roof caught fire. Sy only hoped they died of smoke inhalation, then being burnt alive. A terrible way to go either way.

The rest of the populated villagers was cut down when the civilians made to escape. Mostly sharp blades being the main cause of their deaths, or the arrow he found sticking from their backs or the chests. He found one speared through a wall, hanging limply against a crumbled home.

Sy should feel sick to his stomach, but he couldn't. All he felt was a hardened resolve for whatever justice he could bring, not that it would help them any. They were dead, but he could still help the living. Alliea and her people needed closure, and they're not going to get it from Kiset.

If Sy could bring about the resolution they needed, then he might as well try.

The disgust and the rage were there, just bubbling to get out of his chest. He needed to calm down. Nothing good would come of expressing anger without a suitable target. Using the breathing technique to calm his fast beating heart helped him stay focused. He needed to narrow down on specific goals he had in mind.

First, he had to find survivors.

And that's when they came, by ones, and then twos. A few dozens in all. They came out into the open, from the dark forest behind them. The refugees came stumbling along into the wrecked village, covered in dirt and blood. They held onto each other and their children; some cried freely, and some wore fatalistic expressions.

Sy stayed put, but Alliea didn't. She leaped up to her feet with a cry of surprise and delight, and ran to them. They were caught by surprise, but they knew the girl. Despite her foreign bright clothes, they recognized the girl. And one, in particular, a tall young man of similar age with Alliea, wrapped his arms around her.

"It's a trap," Sy, startled, turned to the bartender, surprised. "They let these people escape for a reason,"

Sy turned to look back at the small group of people as they conversed, with Alliea wildly gesturing towards the odd pair. He didn't want to dispute Vánagandr, but he wanted to stay optimistic. "You reasoning?"

"If they wanted to wipe them out completely, they would have blockaded the entire village, and cut out whatever routes from anyone escaping," Vánagandr grunted, and crossed her arms. "If I had to guess, the survivors would call for help. Specifically, they would call their own people for help, or follow the stragglers to the other variean villages to finish what they started,"

"Rinse, and repeat," Sy grimaced, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "So it is a genocide,"

"It's better if these people come with us," Vánagandr's eyes narrowed toward the empty fields. "No doubt, they'll be scouts about and watching us even now. We can protect them, all of them if we have to,"

"I hadn't realized you cared so much, Vánagandr," Sy replied with a weary smirk.

"What I don't care about is the senseless slaughter," The bartender's hands gripped into a fist, her smile all teeth, "I have no doubt they'll come for these people,"

Sy rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I should have known. You just want a good fight, eh?"

She gave him a knowing look. "Don't you?"

"I'm on the side of the angels," He simply saida.

"Liar," She blankly stated.

Their conversation halted when Alliea brought over the rest of her gathered people toward them. They wore guarded expressions, but they were a scared, desperate people with little hope. Their very lives have been destroyed. What else did they have? Nothing. When they found Alliea, what they found was a tiny hope in the form of a sunflower dress.

They clutched on to that lifeline, even if it costs them their very lives.

"Alliea," Sy nodded to her, then turned to face the rest of her people. "Food and shelter will be provided for you, and warm beds for as long as you wish. Your children will be safe, and no harm will come to them, or any of you, so long as my friends and I are with you,"

An older trembling woman stepped forward. It was interesting that they all looked exceptionally young and brilliant, but this one had some defining features that marked her as one of the oldest in the group. Alliea did say they could live for hundreds of years. Not even the blessed humans could claim such a thing.

"Why would you help us?" She looked more tired than brave, resigned to whatever fate awaited her. Still, he couldn't help but pity her. "Your kind has hated us for a long time,"

Sy was quiet for a moment, then gently asked, "What's your name?"

The woman hesitated, but she braved on. "Solorteruiel Ainwilae, milord,"

"A pleasure, Solorteruiel Ainwilae. Also, I'm not a lord. Just a commoner, here," Even when Sy said this, it was obvious Solorteruiel didn't believe him. None of them did. He then paused for effect. He needed the sweet spot, the tender nerve that would solidify their beliefs in him to be something more than just tangible. "Come with us, and rest. And when you have filled your stomach with rich food, and water, I will have a proposal for you. Consider it a form of payment from you,"

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

"Can you, for all of us?" There was hope in Alliea's voice. She knew Sy for barely a day, and they barely spoke a few words to one another. But she knew about the kind of people he kept in his shop. That might just be the very opportunity Sy needed to convert them to his side. Jǫrmungandr, especially, must have imprinted a powerful impression on the young girl.

Alliea was curious, and she did want to come with them. "Absolutely,"

"Why should we trust you, Blessed One?" This time, it was the young man that spoke up. The boy looked exhausted and looked about ready to drop. Still, he kept to his feet and faced Sy with a fierce expression that only belonged to the young. Oh, Sy liked this one.

"Do you have any other choice?" Sy replied, now looking at all of them in turn. This time, he turned to the few children still alive. "Right now, your children are in need of medical attention, and we have a druid who could look after their health. And frankly, you can't afford to turn down help,"

Alliea turned to her people, her features forming into something akin to confidence. "Jǫrmungandr the Worldmaker is a powerful druid. Little Nennich is there, safe. Listen to the lord, please. Lord Sy could help us,"

Interesting names, that. And, Jǫrmungandr the Worldmaker? really? Sy would bet a thousand talis Vánagandr would hold this over her brother's head.

They had no choice, and he knew it. The older woman, Solorteruiel, stepped forward and bowed. "We're in your debt,"

The journey back didn't take place until much later. The varieans collected what they could, and dragged what carriage that hadn't burnt down. Sy helped bury the bodies; it was a terrible job. And meanwhile, Vánagandr went missing in the middle of all this. He would have suspected negligence, but she wasn't the type to be lazy.

The people still wandered around, look lost and miserable. A child, as old as four, maybe five, was wailing for a mother that wouldn't come. Someone came along to pick her up and comfort her.

Sy sighed.

When they headed out, the children and most of their goods were placed on carts tied to the summoned horses. Sy still hadn't seen the bartender.

It was within the second hour of their journey when Vánagandr stepped beside him. She looked as fresh as a daisy, while Sy was covered in dirt and the smell of death.

"I was right," She said, looking smug. Well, she didn't smile. She was just smug about it, on the inside. He just had to squint very hard. "Two scouts. They're following us a mile away,"

"Well, it's not that hard to follow our tracks," Sy indicated to the small road behind them. The tracks they were leaving, an idiot could follow it.

Vánagandr shrugged. "They're irrelevant. As soon as we arrived at the village, one of them must have left to inform whoever is in charge. Killing them now would be pointless,"

So, they'll know within the day, if word hadn't reached them already. They were probably already on the move, and hurrying these folks would be detrimental to their health.

"When they come, can you delay them?"

"Of course I can," She replied matter of factly. If there was ever a defining flaw about her, it was that being absolutely confident in about everything she does. Hesitation was for the weak. "Should I kill them all?"

"Ah... let's hold off on that for now," He didn't like the idea of bringing a war to his doorsteps. If he had no other choice, then Sy will do what's necessary to keep his home, and the varieans safe. "I still need to talk with whoever's in charge, when all this is over."

Now that he had calmed down some, he could think clearly. Compromise, and negotiations are the way to go if there was ever to be peace.

Vánagandr glanced at him, eyes like molten gold. "And if they don't back down?"

He glanced at her. "You know what to do,"

They made camp only once before they resumed their journey. Sy made sure everyone was ready to leave before the sun was even up.

Sy breathed in the chilly morning. The air tasted fresh and vibrant. When that ascending sun slowly reached its zenith above the clear blue skies, the summer twilight fell upon the lands like a golden blanket. Odd as it sounded, the racial trait of his fey side might have reacted to the morning sun. He felt fresh, newer.

As he looked beyond the trees and the hills, and toward the distant white-topped mountains, he realized just how different it was from his home. He was a city boy, through and through. The city of Toronto was a rumbling of machines and flesh, always growing, always expanding. It was a beast that devoured and devoured, and not at all like nature. It had its own beauty, and Sy loved his city all the same. And he missed it dearly.

The thought of home realized just how homesick he really was. Still, seeing all this, the natural state of how the world should be, and all the endless fields of wild lands and forests brought to him something else, something he didn't have before: a fresh start.

So it was with no coincidence when Sy found himself walking alongside Solorteruiel. The children gave him curious looks, watching with such intense expressions he knew only a child could accomplish. Solorteruiel looked unsure, but nodded with respect, and murmured, "Blessed One,"

"Please don't call me that," Sy felt uncomfortable. To be called a saint or some demigod just felt unnatural to him. "Can you tell me more of these lands?Kiset, and Afuiham; is there anything important I should know about them?"

The now unanimous, and democratically voted head of her people bowed her head slightly, thinking. "I do not know much, but I'll try," Sy remained silent, waiting for her to speak. And when she did, he knew Solorteruiel was mourning. "They say that these lands are blessed, or perhaps cursed, by the Gods of War, seeking glory for all time,"

Sy raised a brow, slightly surprised by that unfortunate news. Who would find war, any war, worthy?

"Once, these lands held a hundred kingdoms vying for power," Solorteruiel shook her head in disgust. "Wars happened, as they wont to do, and now only a few remain. These surviving kingdoms absorbed the rest of the lands, through war and conquest, or through treaties and marriage, and their strength multiplied,"

"And Kiset...?"

"Kiset is a powerful nation, and their strength in arms are capable of going against the very powerful dynasty of Afuiham. Their relationship with each other is complicated, though they have trade treaties of their own, despite the skirmishes and past wars. Napia, the lands to the west that borders both Kiset, and Afuiham, have been contested for the past hundred years by both kingdoms, due to its fertile lands and great mountains,"

"And what of Napia, or the people that live there?"

Solorteruiel shuddered. "Those lands belong to the barbarian tribes of the orcs. The stories say that the orcish people were once descended from the loins of the Wolf Goddess Yrnja. The blood of the goddess flow through their veins, born only for war and death. The wolf lords are the only reason why neither Kiset, or Afuiham hadn't conquered Napia," She hesitated, then siad, "The orcs do have some form of trade with Kiset, I think. I'm unsure of the politics...,"

Orcs, she said. Sy shook his head in wonder. What are the chances...

The matriarch shook her head, and said, "I apologize, but that is the extent of my knowledge,"

Sy chuckled, shaking his head with a grin. "You've told me plenty enough. Thank you," When Vánagandr made her appearance, Sy excused himself and made his way to her. "What happened?"

Vánagandr grimly smiled. "A small army follows. Heavily armed, armoured, and official looking. A hundred, in all. They've found us, and they're looking to make death,"

Sy gripped his spear. "We're almost home. Can you delay them?"

His bartender's expression didn't change. She dryly replied, "I can do more than that,"

"You remember our talk yesterday," Sy winced. The last thing he wanted was to alienate an entire country. "Talk them down, first. We don't know the capabilities of the blessed ones, yet,"

Her brows furrowed in annoyance. "You know I'll not try very hard before they try to kill me, or worse."

"If then, you can have your fun," Sy's felt his eyes boring holes into his bartender. If he like throwing up, but said it anyway. "Try to leave none alive,"