Actions have consequences.
Faus turned over in his bed, groaning. The worming sensations were coming back, spasms and pain followed. Just as he remembered it… He had hoped his younger body was more resilient. That he didn’t have to relive those early days of being an old man. But if anything, being younger— everything became more sensitive, less worn.
The price of using a Spell not of his own alignment.
“Gehh—“ Faus moaned out a breath, feeling a wringle across his chest.
He turned his head, in the faint outline of darkness, he saw his pack; his spoils from the night. Some semblance of reason returning. What’s a few hours, a day of pain? For the spoils that allowed him to flee this heartless city.
It was worth it. Or it would be, come the hours that he would need to settle an injustice. Be it in this life, or any other, he will make sure punishment is dealt.
And there he drifted, the hours going by. There was barely a moment of reprieve, finding time to shut his eyes and let himself sleep. When he awoke there was soreness another groan escaped from his lips, but there were no worms trying to dig into his flesh. Only the creaking feel of joints, and tight muscles going about a half cemented stretch.
Another meeting will take place tonight, but first he had to whittle down this coin. Setting out he cleaned himself, Faus styled his hair and refined his dress to hide the burdens of the slums.
His walk calm, unhurried, to the bare ends of the morning market. The dreary wake of dry overcast set everyone to their homes. Few people were out, and even some of the merchants were closing up their shops early for the day.
He first went to one of the depots— a shortage facility for grain, beans, and oats. Where items were dealt by the kilos instead of hands. And where a few silver coins would go unnoticed.
The line was short. Faus was the last to be served, with no one to follow behind him.
“What, and how much?” The woman intoned a saying far too common. Her voice was shrill and eyes looked far, she paid a flash of attention to Faus. Her eyes lingering on the corners of his clothing, and gave an almost leer that brought her back to the present.
She looked to say something, but Faus fished out a note. Nothing spectacular, just something to appear handy. “Five kilos of grain, and two kilos of oats please.” He spoke, to seemingly read off the note of no consequence.
Though it had seemed to play a part, the woman’s eyes returned a distance. Well, as soon as he fished three silver from his pocket. The woman turned to the open storage, stacked with sacks of the intended supplies.
“One silver and 22 copper.” The woman said, stacking the sacks on the counter.
“Uh… can you break the extra silver?” Faus asked.
The woman paused, but after a second deposited a pouch of Copper before him.
“It’s a copper for the sack— Four Disks of Copper, and nine common coins.” She affirmed.
Faus checked, everything was in order. He palmed one of the Disks, they were about three times the size and ten times the value of a single common coin. Same for the coins of Silver and Gold, but he hadn’t seen any of those while raiding the crook, strange.
“Thank you.” Faus replied.
He gave no time for her to think, leaving to go about his way. The sacks weighed upon his shoulder as the corners of his lip twitched. Things were going well so far. He could finally get ahead in this life.
Faus made his way home— at least in part, he had stopped by a secluded spot in the slums to drop off the sacks. Like he could get away with lugging those sacks through the shallow hole without raising some eyes. Food, no matter how raw, was worth more than any coin here. A fight might not happen, but he could be damn sure that more eyes would be upon him if he meandered through the more populated part of the slums.
Coins in hand, he moved to an offshoot tailor. Prices were a bit strained, with how little the selection was, Faus would have thought he could bargain with the owner. But no, the woman was immovable as a mountain on her prices.
Walking out of there, two pairs of plain clothing, a pair of heavy wears for winter, and a rugged bundle for “traveling.” All settled in a rugged sack— free of charge, at least that was the only good thing about the place. Because he felt his coin sack much lighter than he intended— perhaps he would need to make an exchange with Agatha?
Faus glanced at the sky, the clouds had parted somewhat, showing the brief glimpses of dusk coming around. He frowned somewhat, he had planned to do more than what he accomplished today… guess he had to push a day back for buying equipment later.
He stopped by to get himself a meal, wholly, under prepared for how hungry he was. He walked out of the restaurant with not a coin to his name.
Annoyed— looks like more plans needed to change.
Maybe it was time to admit that he wasn’t as good with money as he liked to think. Planning was never his thing, he was a leader— a small leader sure, but he didn’t come up with the plans, he just executed them and set about tackling the front. Although, about a quarter of the plans did go to shit, and he had to improvise much on the wind.
He grumbled internally, he didn’t like remembering holding still in the cold, wet, rain in enemy territory.
The coming night hid his travels home. There he set about his clothes along the bedside, a smile graced him in the dark. He returned to the upper floor, where he counted half the spoils— their weight much too heavy, and non inconspicuous to be worth the trouble going around. Half was enough, to waive through the troubles a journey would bring. And when it ran out… he sighed, money always ran out.
Faus came out to heavy clouds, the moonlight trying, failing, to break through. The trek was nothing, bare of anyone but himself. Everything was much the same, the home, the door, and the light at the edge of the doorway.
The pause was absent, when he descended the stairs, hearing the briefest whispers, and the slight of muffled outrage, he knew this step would go smoothly.
“Fritz.” Agatha’s voice trounced all to silence. Raina seated herself, her hands retreating from the table as a flush still lingered on her cheeks. Stone as his name was, stoic and still. Her two guards were the same, shifted more upright. “I’m glad you could come early.” A question lingered in her eyes, the sack mostly.
“I am too, but first— this city is going to be turned upside down, and best you all move out of here as quickly as you can.” He didn’t leave a second of interruption, setting down the sack on the creaking table. Faus fished and set aside the worn journal. Taking out a bundled cloth of coin.
“One for you.” He threw it to Stone. “Another to the crazy lady,” to Raina next. “And the rest, for the children.” A large clicking bang hit the table, Agatha eyeing it wearily. But as soon as she peeked into the bag— a gasp from Raina broke.
“This is all… silver…” Raina splayed out her clothes. Even the look on Stone felt worth the price, but even their eyes shifted to Agatha— beyond stunned at what was with, a piece of himself felt proud, that he could make the difference, in not just paying back dues to a person who gave him a hand, but to a person who would give many others a chance he’d been given.
“Fritz…” Agatha’s voice quivered. “Where did you get this?”
“Funny story, that…” So began the tale of how he trounced the castle’s defenses, broke the vault, and made a daring escape off into the night… At least he tried, Raina was getting on his nerves that the story petered out the bland facts. “…So I jumped the fence and doubled back a few alleys to make sure I wasn’t followed. But I got a pricey show for all the work I’d done.”
“Was this all of it?” Stone asked.
“And that is something I won’t share.” Faus replied.
“Fritz, with this kind of coin there are going to be search parties.” Agatha chimed, her voice conflicted. “Heightened levels of security in all the districts, maybe even all, forget passing the gate, we’ll be lucky to get out of our abodes for the next month.”
“Then I suggest you get out of here as soon as you can, because me stealing some coin isn’t about having this city become a pile of ash and blood.” He replied, picking up the book.
“What does that—“ Raina’s question was cut off.
“I signed with the Lord today,” that got the room’s attention. Stone and Agatha immediately sharpened their eyes, “a twenty/eighty split, eighty to the Lord coffers. For each misplaced coin, billing, and dissuaded law clauses held. I have been given the task to swindle as many as I can, and keep the dealings under cover…”
What followed was an hour of silence; reports of names and businesses who got swindled by the clauses, switched contracts, misplaced debate, and orchestrated tax fraud. Dozens of businesses, perhaps hundreds of names all together over the course of the five year period. He did not know, he didn’t read beyond the halfway mark, because he just needed to make one— singular point.
“The Lord is committing treason.” Agatha spoke what they all thought, but there was still a heavy breath in the room. The child guards looked partially tense, what seemingly was a dish of water already trailed down their faces. It could only become a bucket, as the lingering absence of responses came about with open mouths but no words, until they closed again.
“I wish you would have informed me of your plans Fritz, perhaps we all could have been more prepared than this.” Agatha supplied.
Faus shrugged, “Not that I thought this was going to be something this big— circumstances change, so have each of our plans.”
“And you took this.” Stone motioned to the book. “This might as well damn the Lord, if not entice implications to his allegiances, so wouldn’t it have been enough to know of its existence and leave it to dissuade a more feverous search?”
Faus sighed. He hadn’t really been thinking at the moment there. Most of his life he spent it on infiltration, loud infiltration. A one, two, maybe three days of covert work and then— action, and a wild run through the forest and hills with whatever plans they had. Although, the plans usually involved some key Heirloom that they had on hand. If they could not take it, then they broke it, taking intel in the chaos that followed, because what could he do with three days? He could only play off the innocent old man a bit for so long, even if his shaky writing wasn’t a bit at all.
That reminded Faus, he had to find a way to work on his penmanship this time around.
“I wasn’t thinking my word would mean anything without it.” Faus replied with some truth.
Stone made no comment, returning to a far off stare, deep in thought. Raina was just about as cold as he ever saw her, for what that was worth.
A big huff from Agatha called attention, “No use in getting emotional over spilled milk.” She turned to one of the boys, “Christoff, could you give Fritz the papers please.”
Christoff nodded and came around to a bundle of papers. He thought there would be more, but Agatha stood right after.
“If you’re going after these men, I cannot help you with the circumstances, and the gift allotted to us.” Agatha motioned the other guard to take the coin. She came around, prompting Faus to stand as she opened her arms and gave him a gentle hug. “Thank you, my child…” she whispered.
Pulling away she announced to all, “But it's time for us to depart this city— tonight.”
“What?!” Raina jumped out of her seat. “You can’t!”
Agatha turned, and gave her a warm hug. A whisper for only them to hear, when they broke apart, tears collected at the corners of Raina’s eyes. Her chin quiver, as she tried so hard not to make a sound. Agatha came around to Stone, just the same, there was no motion from the man but a single nod. His eyes captured his mind more than his heart.
“I know this is abrupt, but we shall leave earlier than take our chances with the storm on the horizon.” Her eyes turned to Faus, “Thank you again Fritz. I wouldn’t have found such comfort in the option without you.”
Faus gently nodded.
“If any of you wish to come, you’re more than welcome to. We’ll be taking the tunnel in the fourth district sewers under the running wall.” Agatha said.
“There’s a tunnel there?” Faus asked, perplexed. There should be anything but shit around there if he recalled right.
Agatha chuckled, “We have to move a few stones. But there is a last resort for us. One that might close the longer you all stay within the bounds of this city. So…” There was silence as she left an implied question in the air, a flash of sadness dawned her eyes as found the moment. “Then, best of luck to you all. And Fritz.”
“Yes?”
“Vengeance is meaningless if it takes your life away in the process.” She spoke words with a lifetime of heart, and yet somehow, no matter the weight of those words. He couldn’t finalize it in his heart to be his truth.
“I will set my sights to live, don’t worry.” He replied, as Agatha went off ascending the stairs one last time before he heard the door click.
There was silence, as he took the moment to read over some of the information. A frown appeared, at who they were listed under— raising some of his suspicions.
“What are you going to do now?” Stone asked, surprisingly.
“Figure out how to take care of some heartless bastards.” Faus waver the papers.
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“How soon are you planning to get it done?” Stone hinted.
“The sooner the better,” he replied.
“Then you have my hand for two days— I shall be departing the third.” Faus blinked in surprise. Stone apparently knew the question. “Contract killer long ago; low time for the people here who need some proper justice.”
Well, that at least explained some things.
“I’m joining— Stone, is it alright I leave with you then?” Raina chimed in. Stone nodded, and Raina smiled through her tears. “Perfect, one last hue-rah!”
“You're a mercenary too?” Faus didn’t believe it.
Raina huffed, glaring. “Why do you think I can't keep up?”
Faus was indeed skeptical.
“She worked to primarily help the people of the slums get back on her feet, getting some decent jobs and like that, it's one of the reasons why the grannies patched things up for free. Donations came to Raina and she in turn donated further.”
Huh… Then, she'll probably make a good scout at least.
“Have you killed anyone before?” Faus asked.
“What do you think?” Her voice went hard, eyes cold.
Seriously? There was a lot more blood in the streets than he initially thought. A little unsettling, if he was being honest.
“Alright then, then I hope we can have a fruitful execution.” Faus extended his hand. Stone scoffed, Raina hummed. But they both took it, now it was time— time for justice to descend upon those noble knights.
----------------------------------------
Two Days later…
It wouldn’t be long, things were going well. Desmond could think of nothing going wrong, but the portly swindler of man he had as a hidden hand beat down sweat like a torrent of rain. His clothes were disheaved, his breathing heard like quakes. He was barely in affordable attire, without a fine vest, a miss buttoned furled shirt, no lined shoes— was it too much to ask, to keep a semblance of order?! Idiot! Rumors should be spreading among the staff, another week and the inner rims of the city would get a whisper of pig’s abhorrent state.
There will be questions. Questions that required actions he did not want to do.
“Ezekiel, from the beginning. And if you pause for another minute in need of breath, I will make sure my time is worth it.” Desmond replied, a promise, nobles were a cruel sort. And he would make sure Ezekiel Gol would go mad with the whispers of punishments of different lands, before he could even know of the chains being put upon him.
“Well, your Lordship—” Ezekiel gulped. Steading his voice. “The fund has been breached; some silver was taken, and… incriminating evidence.”
Desmond took a breath. Leaning back into his chair. Hearing right— after all the careful planning, years of work, coming to ahead like this.
“And just why do you believe there is incriminating evidence?” Everything was tagged and leveraged, covered up by tax exemptions, favors, and contracts. Working around the systems of the higher authority without a damn thing they could do about it, less they patch the whole and waste their entire troves they hoarded. Then the Royals would come, and Stars knows, what kind of power lay dormant in that fortress.
“A… journal your Lordship. A ledger of nearly every deal made.” The swine meeked out— Desmond thought he heard wrong.
“What?” A laugh mixed his scoff. “I’m sorry. One. More Time.” A pressure filled the room inadvertently.
“A ledger… to keep the balance of our dealings.” Ezekiel’s voice got so quiet by the end that the clenching of his teeth almost overpowered his words.
“Imbecile!” Desmond let his Thame go. The power of an Invoker; Second Minor Realm. It should have been a shiver upon most men. This… power, fell far below his place— Ezekiel just about tripped on himself, catching a hand on one of his chairs. “Do you have any idea what this could turn into? Do you?!”
The man seemed to choke, Desmond just about called the necklace hidden under his shirt. Its call was just at the edge of his senses… but, the pressure came down. His face returned to the natural color it once was, another breath was needed.
No, not now… It wasn’t worth it.
Desmond waited. Waited for a good five minutes for the man to park himself in the chair— finally.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” He said marching up from his place, taking a poise around his desk, to lean on its edges right in front of his ‘guest’. He bore into Ezekiel’s eyes, a calm blade, but a promise nonetheless. “You, and one who normally does the job, will carry the rest of the “supplies” to the site. Your share will be cut to afford the pushed time frame, any and all involvement, from this point onward, that is to be written shall be bearing your bribes and evasions of law.
There will be no second chances.” Desmond leaned over; face to face. “Do I make myself clear.”
Ezeikle didn’t speak a word, only nodding frantically.
“Good.” He retreated behind the fine polish of wood. “My son shall be supervising you in due time, along with the associated papers. You have by the end of the day to sign them, or the consequences shall be enacted.
“Now, begone.” He waved the man off.
Ezekiel stood to bow, leaving the room in due haste. As he should, though he forgot to tell the swine to wear the proper clothing. Not good. His anger got the better of him— he frowned, thinking…
Ezekiel liked to stoke the fires a little much for the amount of guards he had and paid blind eyes to turn for his late nights. He was part of the wealthier district, but not so much being a standout against the merchants, though perhaps he was more isolated than the rest. That his grudges bore deeper than the merchants, the slums, for one thing, painted the man as a monster.
But that’s what made him viable, he was the fall— a reason, should things turn. He was weak without his contracts, the law; the will of his own and higher lords protected him. Without it, what would he be? That he knew. Fodder. Though perhaps the man gained some bravado, after all the discretion he was planning to go against him.
Desmond was not wholly convinced it was a simple ledger, he spoke of it, first, as a journal, and that if it had a basic systematic detail of the happenings over the course of their deal, then… there was nothing but eradication for his family.
He had placed his bets, thinking the weak will of the man would press down the instinct of betrayal or greed. Desmond took a risk, and now he needed to dust off another contingency.
But first, he got up, he had to enlighten his son, and play a heavier hand than he thought to raise his son. It was too soon for this part of the world to be revealed, but this was the price he had to pay.
He was sorry.
----------------------------------------
Berndt moved through the forest. Cloaked under the night of heavy clouds, he took strides with barely a crinkle along the cool wind.
He had taken one of the few Heirlooms born for illusion; both in silence and appearance. As he was but a shadow under the night, fading in and out of the scenery from tree to tree. It was one of the conditions of its use; night, darkness, and forest. The necklace that held its power tied close around his neck. Thame pumping, a bead of sweat came down across his brow, he had a run in a long time. Last he could remember as perhaps along this path, though further out than he had ever been.
Berndt made assurances, learning the terrain around the compound of his father’s estate. In case a day where he would need to flee from the turmoil of the enemies barging in at the gate, or… from his own family. The terrain was low, almost a valley, a small stream cut through the land, but between the muck of the shore and the crisp fall of leaves was the saving grace of a yellowing grass. It would take him the better part of the night to get to the nearest town of Reginel, but with some coin, and a day, he should be ready to head out.
He grimaced, though the cramping in his sides might prolong the stay.
There was a rustle, banking off a bend in the stream. Perhaps an animal, deer were plentiful—
Berndt felt his side get slammed.
His eyes went wide— the funnel of Thame to the Heirloom stopped. He shored for a second, his eyes turning to the edge of his vision, a man— no, a woman in dark leather met his vision, and the faint smell of tobacco lingered behind the wind.
Berndt went splat, falling to the muck, his hand catching the edge of the frigid water. But Berndt didn’t pull away, he was just starting. The woman made no move, only retreated a step, and gave way to the sound of crunching leaves. The whiff of tobacco became stronger, till the figure came out of the shadows and woodwork.
“Mother—!” Berndt, shocked, nearly fell over himself as he tried to stand up.
A woman of smooth cream skin, hair like the sun, eyes sharp like emeralds— she was the undaunted form of her house’s power. Even father sometimes fell short of her twiddling hands of the games of nobility. Even now, she walked along a sedated pace, with poise and proper form. Her clothes were a fine silk, but drabbed in a forgotten blue. Less of a dress, more of a cover for the briefest shows of armor under her garments. Her hands covered in the gloves of the deepest black, nestled with her smoke pipe of wound silver and gold.
She took another breath, and expelled a calm stream of smoke.
“Has there ever been a time that you’ve gone for a late night run, Berndt?” His mother; Kelsey asked.
“No— no mother.” He couldn’t help but stutter, her eyes glancing upon his neck line. She hummed— he shivered.
“Return the necklace Berndt.” Her personal hand meant this was not up for discussion. His eyes caught a closer look to the guard— Ester; Mother’s personal guard, coming from the old family. He hadn’t dug up much on her, other than her loyalty was only to mother’s. Not the former estate, not father, not to anyone… but mother. Berndt carefully marched his way, removing the necklace and placing it in his mother’s palm. “Good boy.”
Her hand rose— he flinched, expecting a smack, but she did ruffle his hair. Bewildered, he watched, as she took another smoke.
“Ester, would you give us some privacy.” His mother command, Ester bowed and went off to the forest. The silence made him gulp. “Now, at the pace you’ve currently set you will reach Reginel by the morning. A carriage bearing the mark of three stars shall await you there and stay no longer than noon. Give the driver the name of Kaspar Ein, and they’ll take you where you need to go.”
Berndt stared. Was he hearing this right?
“What?” He blurted without realizing.
His mother smiled, showing part of her gums— she never did that— Berndt felt his heart seized by the cold. It was always white, poised, and tight. Something for the gallas, balls, and meetings demanded her constant attention. Meetings that were even part of her own blood. He remembered nearly all the dinners they had to attend together, if only they played out the same way, until Grace kicked up some sort of ruckus; complaining about the food, complaining about her lack of dress, complaining… Ugh…
“Berndt, my child.” She stowed away the Heirloom in an inner pocket, reaching to cup his cheek in affection, only for his hand to shake involuntarily. He gripped it with his other. “You are the eldest, my smartest, and most clever.” Her words were sweet, like honey. But her smile faded, and a shiver returned. “But also the most careless and naive of the children. I do not know whether you find yourself in the wrong moments, thinking the wrong things, or that perhaps this is the limit of your attentions.”
Her hand pulled away, taking another puff. Looking off to the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the faint moonlight. “There are but three more months and you shall be twenty-two, two years more before the official succession shall be forced to be called upon. But with no prospecting spouses to be by your side. No thought of becoming the next lord of the Dukedom. I wonder Berndt, what path are you choosing your life to be.”
Mother’s voice was lost, and Berndt felt as much. The silence awaiting an answer that he could not hope but to say, “I wish to be the next lord of the estate, Mother.”
“Oh, and what support have you gathered?” She asked, and a tick of anger flashed inside. It was dulled, blunted, but it was still the meaning of his father. “It’s late Berndt, perhaps you’re trying to catch the edge of some lesser noble interest, but even the easier path— to which you let slip for too long— is hard to manage as you stand. I’m sorry but there is little that can be done.”
Berndt felt a vein bulge, “You’re sorry? For what?”
“Regardless of your little network and the covers you’ve made, the position of a shadow isn’t fit to stand as a face of a House.” His breath came heavy, along the fainest outlines the steam met the smoke and went off to the wind. “And the minds of your father and I will not change, given the circumstances.”
“What?!” Berndt yelled, recalling Ester to the shadow of a nearby tree. “I am named heir— if you know even half of the things I’ve managed to keep under there shouldn’t be another candidate.”
His mother returned to a flat look she wore most days, “My words still stand. You have not gained an instinct for the role, and having you work even under the reign of your siblings could mean the destruction of the House.”
“So what is this? Are you going to off your own son?!” He retorted.
Slap.
The same hand of compassion slapped his cheek, “Never say those words to me again!” Berndt staggered back, meeting his mother’s glare. “I will never kill any of you, but if you cross the line— you know the consequences.”
“Then damn you! Damn you and your consequence!”
Slap.
“Do you even know how little I have left, chained to this family?! Damn you all!” Tears came of their own will.
Berndt shut his eyes, bracing for another slap. Only none came. Slowly, he peaked and met his mother’s eyes, seeing them go soft, a sigh escaped her lips, as she massaged her brow.
“There is nothing to be done, you have the next few years, should you not tarnish the House’s name. Make good of this opportunity, before you are to be given the title of Count and off to the edge of the territory. Where the bridge inlays, the roundabout passage out these Barren Lands.”
“Mother… what are you saying?” Shocked.
“That your life was not meant for these ploys and strings, but silence and ink.” She confessed. “Should you choose to leave the Kingdom into the grander continent I shall assist your passage, on the condition that you take a new name for yourself, and send support to your family what you can.”
“You're taking away everything… my name, my legacy…”
“There will still be a legacy from what you can command, it just won’t be under the name of the Dukedom.”
“Then who is to lead? At least tell me that mother, who is the one to take up the mantle?”
Mother paused, there was strain in her eye. Something minute, near invisible had he not been with her his entire life.
“Grace, is currently the most likely seat.”
There was a tick in Berndt’s eyelid, when the sudden eruption went over his head. His body heated up, his eyes went blank, Thame spewed over in hues of blue, enough to make his mother grimace. Ester came out of the shadows beside mother. His Avatar’s Hearthstone vibrated on the inside of this chest pocket.
Berndt didn’t move; he couldn't think of understanding the logic behind such a decision. Only that he couldn’t be anymore furious, feeling the coming pressure in his head, the strain in his neck. He took a deep breath, and something snapped inside.
He yelled to the skies, muscles clenched. Thame erupting to the sky, collessing in power— gathering, surging, till as he ascended a Minor Realm.
Then, it stopped. Returning to the nature it was, Berndt was still, staring at the sky. Only with his mother’s and Ester’s surprise unmistakable— but, Berndt couldn't careless.
“The House… this entire Kingdom is doomed.” He faced them to speak flatly.
His mother frowned, gathering herself, “She will lead. You might think you know a lot child, but you have too few eyes and ears to know the tapestry that we’ve begun to make.”
Berndt saw his mother’s eyes. The cold finality in those words. Even by his miraculous ascent to the Peak of the First Realm, it meant nothing. Grace would get there in time, just like his Mother, and pass over to the Second Realm before the age of twenty-five.
He returned to gaze up at the Stars trying to find a glimpse of them through the clouds to no avail. Surely this was some kind of joke, that he lost to a harlot, no matter how much blood they shared, he couldn’t understand it— any of it. Why? Why was this the way of his life?
What could he have done better? What did he do wrong?
“May you find safe travels, my child.” His mother’s voice broke him out of it. “I shall see to it that your father stays his hand on the account of your breakthrough. Until you return, I hope you can find your place in the coming years.”
He stared as his mother turned away, returning back to her own trail. Ester gave a poised bow, following mother. Until then, Berndt was left alone with nothing but the rustle of the branches and the nip of the cold wind.
He didn’t know when it had set. That he had come to realize this was not a dream. Only when he began to settle the experience, one thing was sure. The man who started the day was long gone on that autumn night.