Dinner was wrapping up, but many felt full some were still hungry for something else. Sam and Berreta were waiting as they had heard that the Lieutenant’s sister was Auctian but they thought it was just a rumor spread among the troop. Gathered under the Spiritbane Canopy, Lieutenant Erik, a seasoned leader with eyes bearing the weight of memories, decides it's time to share a story that he carries close to him that very night.

“If you are wanting to hear,” he started in deep voice that surprised Jorge who jumped as the Lieutenant spoke. “a story that is interesting and resounds in the annals of time. I ask you to keep in mind what I am going to tell you is the truth and it may go against a truth you may know.” He cleared his throat before he continued. “I’ve gotten to know you all for a year and I trust you with my life, as I hope you trust me with yours.”

Around the fire's glow, with faces illuminated in anticipation, Erik begins to weave a tale that transcends bloodlines. His voice, a steady cadence in the stillness of the Wylde Wood Sanctuary, recounts the day he found Abby, an Auctian, washed ashore along the coast as his parents were moving to the main city of the Kingdom.

“I grew up in a town among the outskirts of the Kingdom called Iverst. Small place, not much there but to scout the surrounding lands for the Rothurd Kingdom’s army. Day by day was the same, playing in the mornings, helping my Pa in the field in the afternoons and home for dinner in the evening.”

Berreta added, “Isn’t Iverst the…”

“I’m getting to it,” interrupted Erik. The air is thick with the aroma of wood smoke and remains of a cooked meal. “That is, until one day, I was about eight or so, the horn of war blew…”

“I remember it clearly, my Pa, Uncle, and I were clearing the field of our carrot harvest. Some of the carrots were so large that I fell on my bum when I freed them from the earth. Pa would laugh at me. Suddenly guards were running through our field yelling for us to return to our homes. The war had found us. War horns blew behind us and Pa yelled for me to get home and find Ma.

I ran as fast as I could thinking Pa and my uncle were behind me, all the while holding on tight to the last carrot I had picked. I dashed through the dirt streets and rounded shops and smithies along a route I knew well. Ma was in the doorway motioning me to come in. I reached my door and embraced my mother, then looked back from where I had come hoping Pa was there. The Cavalry was all I could see. War Horses standing taller than me on my Ma’s shoulders. Soldiers around our shops and homes to protect it.

‘Ma’am,’ said the nearest one. ‘The Rothurd’s Army will be here shortly you and your kin must escape as this will be a war zone soon. Grab only what you can carry and leave.’

‘But my husband is still in the field!’

‘Worry not, for he has been conscripted and will be fighting for you.’ The cavalryman then saluted by using his left hand in a closed fist to tap twice on the right side of his chest. He rode off to another home.

My Ma stifled a cry and began to grab things around the house. Mostly food and a change of clothes. I grabbed what little I had and followed her. Soon we joined the others fleeing the town. Once we felt safe enough, we turned around. We were on a small hill that overlooked our town. Not three months earlier did The Kingdom of Rothurd declare war on Arvendon. What we expected was an army, but what we saw was…”

“The Tyrant King, Umbra” murmured Jorge.

“Yes, just one man against three troops of guards and a troop of Cavalry,” nodded Erik.

“So, it’s true, Rothurd’s Army is just their king…” said Sam absentmindedly.

“Yes.” The fire had begun to shrink and the embers where all that remained. Erik then continued his story.

“As we were looking back at our village we saw the fight ensue and end within the same second. All the Tyrant King did was step forward, and all the guards and Cavalrymen fell. The horses, in a panic, ran around the field without their riders. Before it began it ended. The next second the Tyrant King stood before us.”

Erik shivered for a second. “I’ll never forget the words he spoke to us.”

“I’m not here to claim land nor the lives of those who fight for their king. I only seek the head of your king. Fear me not and return to your village.”

“Is this true Ser?” Smith asked in a hushed tone. “That’s not what we were told, what about its ruins?!”

“He told us this and vanished before our eyes. We made our way to our town to find injured guards and cavalry, but no casualties. My Pa and uncle, while on the front line, were merely wounded. I was overjoyed and my Ma was ecstatic. Our healers in town were enough to heal the wounded troops. But not the egos that were bruised from the defeat. The guards and Calvary couldn’t stand that they were defeated but still lived.

I went to sleep that night only to be awoken by the smell of smoke and burning flesh. I was in my father’s arms as he and my Ma were running through the night.

‘Those bastards! What do they think they are doing,’ he was saying. ‘Carl, my brother, he didn’t…’ Ma looked at him consolingly and placed her hand along his back.

‘Now is not the time for mourning dear, we must get to safety first.’ And we fled all night. By noon the next day we had found an exposed root a good bit from the main road that could shelter us. My parents finally rested and explained what had happened.

‘They started sacking and looting the place,’ my Pa started. ‘Your uncle bought us time to flee but the Cavalryman with the guards…’

That was all I needed to know. The guards and Cavalrymen had teamed up and set out to decimate the town. People that opposed them were cutdown or trapped in their homes while it was set ablaze. Then they spread the word that the Tyrant King cares for no kingdom or people but his own. My family and I decided to never say where we were from, while those who sacked our town were rewarded for their actions during battle. “

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Erik's words lingered in the air like a heavy fog, settling unease among the troop. The narrative he presented clashed starkly with the official account of Iverst's fall, as painted by the Kingdom of Arvendon. According to Arvendon's version, the Tyrant King had ruthlessly attacked Iverst, leaving no survivors. The reality Erik unveiled spoke of a more complex truth.

Three decades past, the flames of war between Arvendon and Rothurd were kindled. Despite Arvendon's numerical advantage, the single-handed victories of the Tyrant King cast a looming shadow over their people. The relentless success of Rothurd's enigmatic ruler spurred increased military efforts within Arvendon. The central city focused on training soulbound individuals, hoping to tip the precarious scales of war.

“The coastline we followed on our way to the main city, was a desolate tapestry of untamed beauty. Amidst the chaos of fleeing Iverst's ruins, my family encountered a young unconscious Auctian. Nestled against the rugged rocks, her ethereal form, adorned with pink spots on a light-purple canvas, rose and fell with the rhythm of her breathing.

I extended a helping hand. From our meager supplies, I offered nourishment to the Auctian, nursing her back to consciousness. In the quiet aftermath, she began to share her poignant tale. A daughter of a chief scientist, she had recently reached the age of awakening, a pivotal moment in the Auctian's life when their inherent abilities manifested. Yet, her parents, driven by the desire to control her destiny, subjected her to a device that unveiled her destined ability: creation.

The revelation, rather than bringing celebration, led to a cold and heartless decision. Branded by her creation ability, she was exiled, cast adrift into the Great Ocean. Stranded and abandoned in the vast ocean, she faced the daunting task of survival. Her story echoed the echoes of our own past, and my parents, compassionate souls burdened by the weight of shared sorrow, claimed her as their own. From that moment forth, she became my sister, a bond forged not by blood but by the shared scars of betrayal and abandonment.

We moved on to the main city. For the first few years Abby hid inside of the hovel we rented in the slums of the city. It was mostly underground and hotter than hell, but she and I became close, as close as any brother and sister by blood. When the local guards learned Abby was Auctian there was a big to do about it, which in turn garnered direct attention from High King Sevas. He loved the fact we were an interspecies family and personally elevated our status among the city to the working class section above the slums. Abby didn’t need to hide herself and I could enlist in the military. It was something I carried with me that not even Abby nor my parents knew about.

The anguish of bereavement and the flames of retribution propelled me into the folds of the military, a sacred vow undertaken against those who reveled in the desolation of our once-thriving village. This journey has been more than a pursuit of justice; it is a resolute march through the crucible of vengeance, a path I tread with unwavering determination while shouldering the responsibility of providing for my remaining family—my parents and beloved sister.”

“Ser, why are you telling us this,” asked Sam bewildered at what the Lieutenant was saying.

"Sam, you wonder why I lay bare my heart before you? It is because the chapters of my vendetta have already been written.” He looked off to the distance of campfire and nodded. “I have extracted the price of revenge. In the grueling skirmishes with the forces of Rothurd, where many comrades fell, seven men remained that ransacked Iverst, the architects of my sorrow. Utilizing my position within the military, I tracked them down one by one, ensuring that they tasted the bitter dregs of justice. But my sister, Abby, remains in the dark, her innocence intact.”

"I share this not to instill fear or mistrust, but as a testament to the trust I place in each of you. The shadows of the past should serve as beacons, illuminating the challenges that lie ahead. The Spiritbane Canopy, with its sheltering branches, becomes a metaphor for our shared purpose—a unity forged in the fires of adversity, binding us together against the looming challenges that await. Together, we shall face the trials that unfold beneath its protective embrace."

Seeing that Erik trusted each one of his listening troops with this heavy secret left a toll on them. He knew all their secrets and he was sharing his, but his was a doozy that had caught them completely off guard. It would take time for them to absorb this, and he knew it. Without another word he went to his tent and sat in silence for a few minutes. A soulstone lay at his desk. The eerie black swirls ominously moved within the blue glow it gave off. The stones are standard issue of the Arvendon Kingdom, though only those with soulbound abilities could use them. When broken the essence within is released and those with abilities experience an awakening that helps in emergencies. Even if one in past the age of awakenings, it can cause one to happen. It was a fantastic piece of technology, one that gave soulbound users an edge in any kind of skirmish. However, the soulstones never sat well with Erik. Mostly it was their name.

Finally, he sighed and quietly called for someone who was not part of his troop. Someone who had helped him with his revenge, his partner in crime, someone never seen, heard, or felt by anyone. “Nat, was that something I should not have said?”

Suddenly a man appeared on the other side of his tent. His hair was black, eyes brown, and a well-trimmed goatee formed along the bottom of his face. He was wearing dark trousers and a light buttoned up shirt. A silver pennant hung around his neck with an engraving on it. He held a book in one hand and a pen in the other.

“No, I think it was necessary. The story tells them you trust them completely. Which if I know you as well as I do, it’s true that you do. Now you must sit and wait for their response. It was much for them to take in, especially Iverst.”

Nat looked at Erik, “And don’t think I didn’t catch you looking at me after that comment about chapters. I’ve half a mind to kick you upside the head for talking like that. You know flair for the dramatic is my shtick.”

“Well, you are my narrator,” said Erik. “Though you all are a weird little bunch.”

Nat, a mysterious figure with an enigmatic presence, exists on the fringes of Erik's life, intertwined with the threads of fate. Known as Erik's narrator, Nat is no ordinary individual; he possesses the rare ability to shape reality through the written word.

As a Narrator, Nat was privy to the intricacies of the world, witnessing events unfold across realms and eras of time. His power allowed him to influence the course of history, and over time, he became a guardian of the balance that held the fabric of reality together. The silver pennant around his neck is a symbol of his connection to the divine law, a set of rules created by the Narrators themselves, preventing them from manipulating reality without consequence. His presence often goes unnoticed, as he seamlessly blends into the background of the lives he touches and is completely unnoticed by those other than Erik, currently. While he doesn't directly intervene, Nat's influence subtly guides individuals toward pivotal moments, shaping destinies in ways both seen and unseen.

Erik walked to his bedroll and produced a pen and paper from under his pillow. And he began to write upon the paper.

“Now who’s the narrator?” asked Nat, peering over Erik.

“Only you,” retorted Erik. “This is for Abby please see that she gets it.”

“When did I become your mailman!?”

“Just do it,” yawned Erik after a few minutes. He wrote into the night well past when the glowing embers were put out from the fire. Erik finished the letter and placed it into an envelope Nat was holding onto. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Nat said sealing the envelope. “Now get to rest the sun’ll be up soon.”

Nat left Erik to a dreamless but restful night. The burdens he carried seemed to have been slightly lifted from the Lieutenant’s shoulders.