Standing by Winterclaw's main gate, several of Mark’s guards surrounded him—not that he felt in danger by the small troop moving toward them.

The soldiers marching toward him were dressed in heavy armor with well-crafted weapons, were draped under thick furs, and looked like fierce warriors, but between his power and the archers and crossbows on the wall, Mark wasn’t too worried.

“I’ve always wanted to meet the western clans,” Venjimin said, standing at Mark’s side. “Our records in the temple about them were always embarrassingly scant. With any luck, I can improve on them.”

“Good luck,” Mark said, his eyes not wavering from the warriors marching toward them. His mind was a little more engaged in the present encounter than thinking about writing up records on distant clans.

A couple of scouts ran up to the incoming men. Mark tried to read the lips of the distant conversation, but he was hardly an expert in the endeavor, which was made harder by the snow whipping up around them.

What surprises does this land have in store for me today?

There was no need for Mark to wave or introduce himself; as the warriors stepped into earshot, their eyes fell directly on him, and the group made their way to him, raising their hands non-threateningly.

“You are the so-called Imperator that rules here?”

“He ain’t no Imperator anymore,” interrupted one of the guards. “Ye speakin’ with the King.”

“King, is it?” Said a large man in platemail, which was almost entirely hidden beneath his thick furs. The man stood at the group’s center, his face worn with creases like an unyielding rock.

“It is,” Mark said, meeting the man’s stare.

“Even better,” he grinned, revealing a gold tooth. “May I have your ear, King?”

Mark looked across to Venjimin, who nodded.

“You may come,” Mark said, waving the man and his troupe through the walls.

People huddled in the streets and alleys to see the strange group as Mark led the warriors through the Low District. Even among the barbarians, they looked foreign, and in fact, there was only one man Mark had met who reminded him of them, the giant Trayox.

Stepping into his cabin, Mark gestured for the barbarian to take a seat opposite him at his table.

“You’re a Western clan, right? That must have been a long journey for you and your men.”

“Aye, it was,” the man nodded.

“So, why is it that you’ve come all this way? My understanding is that travel has become somewhat precarious these days. Surely, you wouldn’t risk such a trek without good reason.”

“Straight to business,” the man grunted. “Good. I like that. My Matirach has sent us here in search of allies against the wargs.”

“Matriarch?” Mark repeated with a raised brow.

“Yes. I, Gorfang Tide, Warmaster of the Wamandy Clan, come under instruction from Yelinda, Body of the Goddess. She seeks to unite the lands of Vutland, Ergimus, Sentinal, Vorg, and the Daggers under one banner to drive back the wargs.”

“Under her banner?” Mark probed.

“Who else’s?”

Mark huffed. “Right, and why should I trust you or bow to your queen for that matter?”

“For starters, she is no queen. She is the embodiment of the Wind Goddess, her avatar in this world, and the bearer of her unyielding power. She is above the ranks of kings and queens and above you, with all due respect. Secondly, our temple fortress, which is high in the mountains, is impenetrable. I want you to understand that we do not come here out of desperation. She extends a hand in the hope of helping others like you—people in need. If we fail, we can go back and hide behind our walls as the world crumbles to the warg’s power. You, however...”

“Let me guess, you have an impenetrable fort but no army, correct?”

The man’s nose twitched into a scowl.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” Mark corrected with a sigh. “But you haven’t offered me much. I will give you props for your command of the common tongue, though,” Mark added, pointing at the Warmaster. “I’ve met one from your land, and his language skills were a far shot from yours.”

“Props?” Gorfang shook his head. “Enough of this meandering chatter. Tell me where your alliegencies lie. I have no love for this back-and-forth. If you’re unwilling to see sense, we can find others with sharper minds.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mark said, straightening in his chair. “We should work together, you’re right. But you come here acting as if you have authority over us. We have worked hard for what we have, and I’m not willing to hand us over to some foreign power’s subjugation just because they can blow bubbles or whatever this Body of the Goddess is capable of.”

“Blow bubbles?” Gorfang sneered. “How dare you insult our avatar!”

Great, this guy’s just another zealot. How disappointing. However, it might be worth speaking with Yelinda about this. Maybe she can see reason. Besides, if she’s anything like me, she’ll be able to see my power without me having to show off with some flashy performance to test their beliefs.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

“Apologies again, Gorfang Tide,” Mark bowed his head slightly. “But perhaps a meeting between your avatar and me, Yelinda, could be organized. As much as I respect you, I’m not about to enter into servitude to the servant of some god’s avatar without even speaking to them directly.”

Gorfan hummed aloud and looked down, seemingly calming himself. “Your request is not unreasonable, but the lands are dangerous, as you said, and Yelinda protects the temple from invaders. If she were to leave, it would leave our people vulnerable.”

“That is fine,” Mark nodded nonchalantly. “I will go to see her. We can fly.”

“Fly?” The man crooked his head.

“My ship. You and me. How about it? I’m not sure how far it is, but surely it can’t take more than a couple of days flying.”

“I see. I had heard that the Imperium used such devices, but what of my men?”

“I suppose a few of them can come. But don’t worry. I will ensure those staying have a warm bed and something to eat.”

The man crinkled his brow as he thought about the proposal.

“Take your time to consider this offer if you like.”

“No,” the Warmaster raised a hand. “These lands do not have time. We must unite now if we want a chance at victory. The wargs take advantage of our division and cut us down. I do not wish to see more people fall to them. I am ready to leave on this flying ship whenever you are.”

“Great, because I was born ready,” Mark said, jumping up from his chair. “Let’s get this done.”

“Decisive; perhaps you’re not such a bad leader,” Gorfang said, rising from his chair.

“Inform your men of the plans. I’ll be preparing our ride. When you’re ready, let my people know, and they will lead you to me.”

**Erin**

“Can you believe it?” Erin said as they moved their belongings from their old cabin into one of the recently built rooms in the unfinished keep. “Knights, not bad, huh?”

“Yeah,” Callum nodded as he stuffed items below his new bed.

“Hi,” Clay said, meekly waving as he interrupted the pair and entered the room.

“Oh, hi, Clay,” Erin turned and waved.

“You’re not mad anymore?”

“I’m in a good mood, don’t ruin it,” Erin replied.

“Oh, sorry,” Clay bowed and entered.

“I said don't ruin it,” Erin sighed.

“Sorry, sorry,” Clay bowed again.

“It’s the saying sorry part and the bowing that’s killing it for me,” Erin growled.

“Just be normal,” Callum interjected. “We’re moving on, and so should you.”

“Got it, sor–” Clay cut himself off. “Umm, well. Moving on, huh? That sounds good, right?”

“Better,” Erin gritted her teeth. "But room for improvement."

“So, it’s the three little piggies,” Radic said as he entered the room. “How in the God-Lord’s realm did you three get picked to be knights alongside me? Some things I'll just never understand.”

“Great,” Erin slumped. “Radic is here.”

“Don’t make me throw you to the ground again,” Callum smirked. “We all know how that turned out last time.”

“You,” Radic growled and stepped forward but stopped as he scanned the room, catching the eyes of Clay and Erin. He was the outnumbered one this time. “Just watch your mouth, okay?”

“Fine, I’ll watch my mouth,” Callum smiled. “Just for you, big guy.”

“Yeah, good,” Radic nodded as if he had won the exchange. “At least you know your place.”

“Right,” Callum rolled his eyes.

“So, what do you think we’re going to be doing as knights?” Erin said, redirecting the conversation.

“From the charter written up by King Atlas, it sounds like we’re essentially our own bosses now,” Callum shrugged.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Clay grimaced as he packed clothing into a chest.

“Well, we’ve got each other,” Callum said, avoiding eye contact with Radic. “Maybe we should go test our skills together.”

“What are you talking about?” Radic grunted.

“Like a mission. Out there somewhere.”

“I hate to say this, but I kinda agree with Radic,” Erin said. “We can’t just go wandering about the wilderness. It was dangerous before, but there are wargs now. We’ll get ourselves killed.”

“We’re not just acolytes anymore,” Callum insisted. “We’re knights. That should mean something. We need to prove ourselves. Go out and find a challenge and defeat it. Show all the doubters that they were wrong about us and that we deserve this title. They might not do anything because of Atlas, but that doesn’t mean they respect us. Unless we prove ourselves, we’ll always be looked down on as a bunch of kids who were only given their titles because of their history with the king. Don’t you want to show them that they’re wrong?” Callum said, smacking the back of his hand against his palm.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to die either,” Erin said. “And you know how last time turned out…”

“Me neither,” Clay added.

“Actually, you know what. You’re a bunch of wimps. Maybe Callum’s not so bad. At least he’s got balls,” Radic said.

“So, you really wanna go out there, Radic? Or are you just saying that to sound tough after what me and Clay said we didn't want to go?”

“Hey! I am tough,” Radic balled his fists. “Don’t make me show you.”

“What, you gonna hit a little girl?”

“N-no,” Radic gritted his teeth. “You’re lucky, you are,” he added, pointing at Erin. “If you were a boy, I’d teach you a lesson.

“Sure you would,” Erin rolled her eyes. “Anyway, can we just come up with a plan to show our worth that isn’t going to get us killed?”

“I’m sorry to inform you, but that’s how this stuff works. If you want to prove yourself, you need to take risks and overcome dangerous odds. That’s what it means to be a knight.”

“Does it? And you’re an expert?” Erin said.

“Yeah, kinda,” Callum nodded confidently. “I used to listen to the bards that rolled up the roads from Kaelmere. That Kingdom is full of valorous knights who abide by a system called chivalry. They talked all about how knights would fight monsters and defeat evil. They were paragons of society that everyone looked up to, just like King Atlas said. That’s what it means to be a knight.”

“What about the temple?” Radic said.

“The temple? Don’t tell me his crazy ideas are infecting you,” Erin said.

“No. The temple. The one that the old feral is from. That Venjimin guy,” Radic said. “Atlas had to abandon his mission to loot the place because of the Imperators. But it’s still there, right?”

“Yeah,” Callum nodded enthusiastically. “You’re right.”

“So, why don’t we go loot it ourselves? I mean, no one is gonna doubt us if we pull that off,” Radic continued.

“The both of you are insane. It’s decided,” Erin sighed.

“Yeah, that sounds very dangerous,” Clay swallowed.

“Think about it, wimps. This is our chance. There’s nothing else—no obvious targets. If Atlas loots it first, then the only way to prove ourselves is on the battlefield.”

“He’s got a point,” Callum nodded. “You want to avoid doing stupid stuff that’s too dangerous? Then this is it. We just have to avoid the enemy. Looting is a lot less dangerous than killing wargs.”

“Well, that is true,” Clay nodded.

“They’re not convincing you, are they Clay?” Erin said.

“Well, they do have a valid point. I’m sick of being seen as the cowardly one. You should hear some of the things I’ve heard people saying about me since he made me a knight. You three get off easy.”

Erin looked down. She was well aware of how people in the fort saw Clay and spoke of him; she had joined in many times.

“If there’s a way to restore my honor without fighting wargs, then I can’t just ignore it.”

“Oh my, we’re really going to do this, aren’t we?” Erin groaned.

“It looks like it,” Callum grinned. "But you can always stay."

"Like the damned gods, I'm staying alone," Erin said.

“About time I show you three why I’m the strongest Knight,” Radic said, thumping his fist against his chest. “Soon, you will all give me the respect I deserve. Just wait and see.”

“Finally, I’ll get some respect for my name,” Clay said, his face lighting up for the first time in months.

"A party of knights going on a grand quest," Callum said. "This is what it's about."