--- P.O.V. of Nord ---

Piles of corpses. The camp was nothing more than dust being carried away by the wind. "..See if there is any survivor" He ordered his men, but there was no authority in his tone. A few soldiers, scouts wearing fur jerkin and leather armour, rode their horses.

The smoke was already dissipating as the fire had died out with the rain during the night. "Don't you see it? They kill us... slaughter us like pigs!" His brother, Feron, was his personal councelor in the affairs of the tribe.

"We need to ride, brother.. ride against the ones who did it" Nord didn't blame his brother for seeking revenge as he also wanted that. "...Do you remember what father said?" Feron sighed "He is dead. You don't have to live your life like he expected you to do... you are the chief now, you have the power of choice"

"I'm trying to do what I believe is right... and war is not right" Feron was enraged and pointed at the destroyed camp, the bodies of their kin. "And is that right, brother? Is that what you want for our people?"

He pulled the reins towards his body and turned around, letting his horse stroll away. There was no reason for him to be there if his council wasn't going to be heard. One of his scouts came out in a hurry.

"Chief.. There is still a few survivors" Nord smiled. Perhaps there was still hope in the middle of that chaos. "How many?" He desired it to be at least half of the citizens, but knew it wouldn't come true. "twenty... all the kids of the camp"

Nord frowned. "...At least they still have their future ahed.. and so does the tribe" He saw the hesitetion in his scout's eyes and his expression grew cold "Speak" It was his chief's order and he obeyed. "..They cut off their hands"

A devil's blow. The tribe would need to carry their weight for they wouldn't be able to hold swords. Nord clenched his fists and bit his lips. "...If they want war... they will have it" He looked at his man with seriousness "Find people to help the kids... get healers and move them to a safe location"

"...The spilled blood will be payed with blood"

--- P.O.V. of Aramin ---

There he was, inside the tavern again. His master had sent him shopping. Not the common products that people buy in the town's market, a few products that were the reason they were on that village. But his master had also put booze on the list, that addicted old man.

"Two bottles of the southern beer" It wasn't the waiter from last night. It was a man in his 30s, with hair growing white and a short beard. He raised his brows "Two bottles? It is quite expensive... are you sure you got the money?"

He wasn't suspicious, but concerned. "Master gave me a few coins" He took a few lyras from his pocket. "...Your master huh? Well, it will be eight lyras" The boy's eyes widened "Eight lyras!?" It could only be extortion.

The man sighed "That's a common reaction, but southern beer has been a rarity since the war started in the south" The boy handed the coins with a frown in his face "What war in the south?" The brewer took the payment to put it under the counter.

"Something about a conflict with some tribes" It wasn't something that would be worth their concern since it was so far away. "..Ah I almost forgot" He was turning around to leave the tavern, but remembered something "Do you know someone called Leonard Meis?"

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A strange smile appeared in the man's face. "Of course, I am Leonard Meis" He was surprised. This man was supposed to be his master's friend. "Bertrand sent me" Leonard's mouth opened and he stared into nothing as nostalgia hit him.

"It has been quite a while since I last saw him" He looked at the boy "Is he perhaps.. your master?" Aramin nodded. "Well, come in then. Let's discuss this in a more comfortable place, you are a dear guest.

...

Aramin didn't think about the upper floor of the bar. It was the owner's house and it was quite cozy and big, enough for a family to live in. He sat on a couch while looking at the carpet and the rest of the furniture.

Meis soon brought two cups of tea and put one on his hand. He felt the warm feeling. "So.. what do I owe the visit?" He took a sip, but immediately retreated. It was too hot. "Master asked me to buy a few things from you"

He took a paper from his pocket and handed to Leonard. "..That old bastard... He only comes to me when he needs something" The tavern owner started to read carefully. "Most of it is basic stuff... but a few ingredients are quite dangerous.. Do you know what he is planning?" He shrugged at the question.

"Wait a few moments.." Meis disappeared into his house as the boy tried to drink the tea.

--- P.O.V. of Bertrand ---

The shouts came from inside. Bang. A flask fell and broke into pieces as Bertrand stood up. He had sent the boy to meet his old friend. In normal days, he would go himself. However, he didn't want the boy to stay there at that moment.

He opened the door to see the man, the lycathrope. His hands were already turning into claws and there was fur growing over his body. Most believed that werewolves would only lose control in nights of full moon. But it was completely wrong.

It was like a curse. The human mind slowly fades away as the beast takes over and it becomes permanent. He was old and weak, but his power was yet to die out. He gestured his hand and energy spread through the room.

Bertrand snapped his fingers and the sound echoed, almost making the man deaf. It had the right effect. The lycanthrope was still trembling and confused, but his transformation was put under control. For a while, that is.

"You know.. I have to buy quite expensive ingredients" The master's voice was cold. The forsaken man was scared and confused "I-I.. I don't.." Bertrand pointed at the bed. "Sit, you need to calm down"

The man complied. "I-I.. did I do all of that?" The mage continued to speak coldly "I'm afraid so" One could go mad with all of that happened. Only god knows how many the poor guy killed... "I can help you"

"..Help me? How can you help me?... Look at this, I'm a monster" Bertrand looked deep into his eyes "The fact that you are talking to me and feeling guilty shows that you are not a monster... yet"

"However... nothing comes for free" There was nothing, no money, no land, the man could give to the mage. "you see.. I don't have much time in this world" He paused "And you are going to do me a favor"

"I will keep your power in check... teach you how to control it and give you a chance in life to redeem yourself.. start by telling me your name" The man's eyes widened at his words. He didn't find it possible to live normally ever again.

"I.. I'm Grasil" The mage closed his eyes in deep thought "Grasil huh?" There was a strange moment of silence and Grasil couldn't handle it anymore. "What do I need to do?" The old man opened his eyes and grew a small smile.

"You, my friend.. are going to serve my diciple.. protect him, keep him away from harm when I am no longer here"

--- P.O.V. of Aramin ---

"Thank you very much" He bowed in respect, but his master's friend laughed "There is no problem. Tell Bertrand to come by and talk to me.. it has been so long" Aramin became quite interested in the life his master never spoke about. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

Another small smile came as an answer "Don't need to be so polite. Go on" The ingredients were very expensive, enough to buy all the bar if it was for sale. "How did you meet him?" Meis had to be very influential to get all of that.

"He didn't tell you?" Aramin shaked his head, denying. "I was a court mage once.. and so was he. Uhm... he was the mage's captain" The boy's eyes widened. What th- Why did the old man hide that from me?

"But that was many years ago, kid" Aramin sighed in acceptance. That was a very good explanation to all the money his master had.