The Nu had blocked the east and south, to the west only mountains then the unending water. Otto knew the only way for him and Ulrich to go was North. It was toward their home, or what once had been their home such a short time ago, yet not the most direct route.

"The winds are shifting again, chief." Ulrich broke the hours-long silence as the two trekked through the rolling plains. They had come out of that forsaken forest their brothers, sisters, mothers, daughters, sons and fathers had been slaughtered in days before. The new openness of the central plains did not suit Otto's temperament.

"Yeah, winter has been coming for a while now." He spat the words more than he said them, eyes always scanning the horizon both in front and behind them. Otto had been eyeing a small group traveling the same way some distance to the northwest. They hadn't made any adjustment to come closer, nor had they run off. Another wounded animal fleeing death, he thought.

Otto sighed, as if the effort of the thought was the same as lifting the frame of a hut, "They used to say I was reckless. Always looked to break problems instead of solve them." The they he spoke of was only Brennus, yet he could not say the name.

"Well, yes, but that was the way of things. It definitely suited most of our problems back in the Tuculli." Ulrich said. He swatted at a fly as it came near again. "Sure is late for flies."

Of course. Why would I bother trying to explain anything to him? Must be why he let me talk so much. He just gathered information. No use in explaining what you are looking for I guess. Otto thought, once again abandoning the efforts to converse with his last remaining Urzoth brother.

He eyed the horizon, always coming back to the group, only a patch of brown in the sea of dying grass, but certainly a small band of some sort of refugees. No more than twenty. Perhaps they changed course, or Otto's persistent gaze in their direction steered his and Ulrich's movement closer to theirs, but the two groups neared each other.

"It's them! It's- it's Urzoth!" Ulrich shouted, almost childlike. Unsuited for a man of his age, Otto thought, but he is right. Otto continued to walk silently as Ulrich sprinted for the group. Slaves now? Maybe Novissime in our stolen clothes. Otto poured over all the worst possibilities.

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But the worst was not so. The travelers were indeed more Urzoth. Ulrich had reached them first while Otto refused to change his pace. When he saw the embraces and heard the cries of joy, even Otto's cold, unfeeling expression warmed. It was not the kingdom he had left with, but it was family.

There were twelve women, the hardy laborers who tended animals and had raised kids to maturity. Four men in sackcloth clothing - stripped of the stolen Novissime armor - who had fled the battle only to be captured by the Novissime did not even raise their eyes to meet Otto's. "Is it true then?" A woman asked, "We all figured the rest of you were dead. Is the king?"

Otto gave the woman a cold nod.

"I guess that makes you our king then." One of the men said still too ashamed to look at Otto.

Otto let his eyes fall on the man. There was no judgment or hatred in them, and no love either. Otto watched the man squirm under the pressure of simply being seen. "There are no more kings of the Urzoth. Never will be. If we make it back to the Tuculli we will suffer through the winter as best we can, grow old and die. This is our reward for living past our time." Otto was simple and stern with the words, as Brennus had been, but inside he was more than a little proud of the speech.

The group was unsure of what to say. Any flicker of hopeful light they tried to kindle was snuffed by Otto's cold words.

"Well, actually we hoped to travel to Vencia. The Novissime who took us said they aren't with the Empire anymore. We are heading to Joan, sir, then catching a boat there. It's more civilized than the Tuculli, but it's safe. Good work to be had, too. At least that's what I hear."

Disgusting, Otto thought, but before he let the silence hang for too long, he spat, "Ok. Do that then."

That's it then? The Urzoth roamed the North, fractured for centuries, were united by a great king, challenged the Novissime and were utterly crushed. Even those who survive won't carry on the name. I should say that to them, challenge them to be better. No. No, they are right. I am right. There is no future for us. Everything has been for nothing.

In their escape, though Otto did not bother to ask about it, he could see the group had managed to take with them a wagon of food driven by four horses. They took turns riding in the wagon and on the horses and walking, and in this way were able to travel farther each day, not needing to stop as early in the nights. They were also able to get moving faster in the morning.

"We'll be at Joan before too long, Chief. Are you still heading back to the Tuculli? Or have you given any thought of Vencia?" Ulrich asked.

Otto did not answer, nor did he honestly entertain the question. He simply continued forward. Always forward.