During their time riding with Hans, it became pretty clear pretty quick that he was not one who enjoyed sitting in silence. Likewise, he didn’t enjoy having his two passengers speak amongst themselves in a foreign language. But, as far as Kreig could tell, it wasn’t as though he could bring himself to speak out about it, either.

All and all, there was little doubt in Kreig’s mind that Hans was, at the moment, pretty confused. It didn’t take many minutes before he started trying to converse with his horse, and at that point, Kreig decided that enough was enough.

“Hans?”

The boy almost leapt off the boot, startled mid-sentence. His head whipped around to face Kreig. “Uh, yeah?”

“What is the nearest village?” Kreig asked in German.

Hans visibly relaxed at the simple question. “Setzburg. It’s more of a town than a village, but it’s as northern as a place can get. I was going to stop there for a few days, but then the stablekeeper noticed me talkin’ to the horses, so I just… Well, as you can see, that was the right choice.” The smile on his face didn’t look all that triumphant. “Guess the Gods really do have a hand in everything, huh?”

Kreig couldn’t bring himself to answer such a sacrilegious statement. “There is no shame in befriending the horses. They are your companions as much as your fellow soldiers are.”

Hans frowned. “Wouldn’t be too sure on that one. It’s not like they can talk back or anything, and once someone fires a shot or something, most of them just try to run anyways. Humans aren’t cowardly like that.”

Kreig would have liked to disagree–most humans would rather run than die–but doing so might alert Hans to his conflicting motives. “A good warhorse is braver than most men.”

A shrug. “I haven’t really had anything to do with those. Anytime I try to talk to ‘em, some high-nose private hostler comes around and nags about how they’re the prized possession of lieutenant what’s-his-face and that if I so much as touch it, I’ll lose the arm.” His frown grew deeper. “And then the damned horse snorts at me like I’m an idiot. An idiot–me!”

“I doubt the horse meant it personally,” Kreig tried to say soothingly, but it had all the effect of throwing coins at a dragon.

“Yeah, right,” Hans huffed. “Nothing against horses in general, but some of these things are worse than people. Here I am, working hard to keep them clean and healthy, and all they can think about is kicking me in the head. You know, five years ago when I was still a boy, a horse went an’ kicked me so hard I almost died. One moment I was petting them on the side, and the next everything went black. I only know they kicked me ‘cuz that’s what the high-browed wizard scoffed at me when I came back.”

From what Kreig could understand of the grumbled story, wizards were still the very same arrogant sort they always had been. Then again, if they’d taken Hans to a barber for the kick, he probably wouldn’t have been here to pick them up. “At least you survived.”

“Yeah, for all the good that did,” Hans said bitterly. “Maybe if I’d gotten brain-damaged I could have stayed at the ranch as a farm-hand, and I wouldn’t have to get dragged into this stupid, pointless war.” His brows furrowed. “Oh, uh, thanks for that one, by the way. You know–killing War and all that. Very swell.”

“...You’re welcome.”

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From that point on, Hans continued rumbling and grumbling about his life and how things had gone. Apparently, he had a rather common life-history, being the fourth son of a farmer and thus being given the grand choice of either helping his older brothers on the farm for pennies on the dime, or to leave and find his luck elsewhere–most certainly in one of the emerging cities. At the time, he’d gone with the latter choice, but the only reason he hadn’t taken it back and tried to return home was that it would probably be an awkward reunion.

Likewise, when he got summons to join the army, he hadn’t been able to refuse. At least he hadn’t been forced into the infantry or the like. Caring for horses was what he enjoyed doing, although he did admit that being on the battlefield one time or another might be interesting. It would give him an excuse to return home, especially if he lost a limb or his mind.

Not that a horse couldn’t do that for him, but if he returned with injuries from a horse, he’d get laughed out of the village.

And then, all of a sudden, speaking in the roughest German she could muster, Sam asked, ”What about lying?” Both Kreig and Hans turned to look at her with blank faces. “W-, well, I just mean, you know. What keep you from lie about horse bite, say it was war?”

It took a few seconds for Hans to pull himself together enough to answer with a somewhat straight face. “For one, I may not have been in a war, but I don’t think my main mode of injury there would be to get bit by a horse, secondly-,”

“Not horse bite,” Sam said with the kind of enunciation you’d use to explain something very simple to someone who didn’t have a lot between their ears. “Other… hurt. Pain. Bone crack. Leg go bang. Yes?”

“Secondly,” he said with the same tone she had used, “the war is over. You ended it.” He looked at Kreig with gratefulness in his eyes. “It was a very good thing, but with the war ended, I don’t think the king will be all that interested in starting another one. This war has been going on for longer than probably any of us have been alive, and although almost a dozen nations took part in the preventive measure, it drained us the most. Our army is depleted, yeah? Really, if anybody should know that, isn’t it you?”

A hint of suspicion gleamed through Hans’ voice and Kreig clenched his fist. He glanced at Sam and found her silently sweating. Once their eyes met, her eyebrows shot up and she gave a hasty shake of the head.

She turned back to Hans with an almost desperate smile. “Heh, uh,” she pointed at her right temple. “Dummkopf?”

He blinked at her and turned to Kreig. Apparently, the strange look he gave him was meant to be one of camaraderie, because he quickly gave a wry smile and a shrug. “Got bit by a horse, I’m sure,” he said under his breath. Kreig wasn’t sure if he should agree or not, so he simply abstained from answering at all.

Their journey continued. Luckily for them, the town of Setzburg was within a day’s travel, so by Hans’ estimates, they should get there before it became too hazardous to use the roads. To pass the time, Kreig spoke with Hans as best as he could, trying to get as much information out of him as possible. Sadly, there wasn’t much to get. He had only visited Setzburg in passing, and he wasn’t even originally from the northwestern parts of Pawinina. The numerous times he complained about the cold and the weird animals up here was enough for Kreig to understand that part.

Soon enough, the sun set. Normally, moving in the wilderness at night was a deadly gamble, but Hans made the striking argument that if they had the man who beat War on their side, nothing out there could possibly endanger them.

Except the cold, of course. At night, the frigid temperatures of the north became even more hostile, usually to the point where any exposed limb could get frostbite within minutes.

But, according to Hans, the town was only an hour or so away, and the carriage was certainly warm enough to keep them warm until them. Kreig, on the other hand, wouldn’t take any chances. When Hans’ back was turned, Kreig silently cast Fire Dragon’s Heart (X) on both him and Sam, ensuring that they remained alive to reach Setzburg.

And as per Hans’ promise, before the dark had fully fallen across the lands, a small but robust town reared on the horizon, the outline of a hilltop fortress being visible in the lack of stars around it.

That hilltop stirred something ancient inside Kreig. Somehow, it felt familiar.

“You should’ve gone through here on the way to the battlefield, but,” Hand glanced sympathetically at Sam, “I guess you wouldn’t remember that.” Quickening the pace of the horse, he pointed a finger at the black outline of the fortress. “That over there is the place that named the town. It’s a bit of a ruin right now since nobody bothered to rebuilt it after the invasion of the, uh…” He furrowed his brows. “Give me a second, I think my great grandpa told me about it, uh…” His face lit up in realisation. “Oh, right! Invasion of the White Roots!”

He looked at Sam again. “I’m not too knowledgeable on that stuff, but my grandpa was in the war. Pawinia was still under Imperial rule back then, so when those two fought we got dragged into it.” He shook his head with a look of distaste. “We should really be glad that that kingdom isn’t around anymore.”

“Theocracy,” Kreig said softly. “It was a theocracy.”

Hans shrugged dismissively. “Theocracy, kingdom, whatever. That was almost a hundred years ago.” He hummed. “Shame about the fortress, though.”

Softly, so quiet Hans couldn’t hear him, Kreig said, “Sorry.”