The next day was filled with the same monotony, though Levan spent most of the early day forging new tools for the stonemason, Yuri, and the weaver, Artyom. Levan had already completed the order of nails for the militia, as well as an order of barrel bands for Kirill. Though the tools for Yuri would take up most of his time, that old stonemason was so specific in his requests that every time he made an order for tools, or equipment he would always include the exact dimensions.

While he continued his work, the sweat of his brow dripping down onto the hot metals. He could hear his name being called, when he turned he saw Stepan and Mikal running up over to the forge. Levan shook his head, and rested the hammer on the anvil, placing the metal he was working on back in the forge, placing it in a cooler spot to not have his work completely undone.

“What do you want?” Levan asked as the ran up.

“You ain’t going to believe what we saw up in the woods, man.” Mikal spat out, still trying to catch his breath.

Levan rolled his eyes, and walked them over to a table that sat just outside his house. While his friends caught their breath he went inside to grab a bottle of ale and bread. His mother sat at the window looking out at Stepan and Mikal, her arms crossed.

“What is it now, Levan?” she asked as he walked in, “Did they get themselves into more trouble with Kirill?”

“I don’t know yet, mother.” he answered, looking through the drawers for a bread knife.

“Well whatever it is, please don’t get wrapped up in it.” she pleaded.

“I won’t, mother.”

“You said that last time.” Julina countered, “And look where that got you.”

“Yes, yes three days shoveling cow shit. I remember.”

“Watch your tongue, Levan. You may not care, but God and His Angels do.” she scolded.

“Sorry, mother.”

Levan found the bread knife, as well as three small wooden cups. He placed them onto the plate, along with a small loaf of bread and some cured sausage. Julina stopped him before he left the house, her brown eyes were filled with concern and sorrow.

“I won’t get wrapped up in it, mother.” he assured.

She gave him a small smile then let him go. Back outside he put the plate down on the table, pouring the ale into the mugs and taking a seat. Stepan and Mikal already finishing their cups by the time he got situated on the bench.

“So, you going to tell me what happened or just drink my ale?” Levan said.

Stepan nodded while chewing bread and sausage, Mikal didn’t seem to notice the question as he drank another cup of ale. Levan shook his head and grabbed the bottle and placed it next to him.

“Answers, please.” Levan demanded.

“Fine, if your gonna be like that.” Mikal said between gulps of ale.

“We was up in the forest, looking for Grigory’s cattle with Vasily and Samitry.” Stepan began, “And well, we found the old man’s cows.”

“Great story, Stepan.” Levan said, “Was that really worth running up here to tell me.”

Mikal answered, “No, you didn’t let him finish. When we found the cows, they was mauled, just like the deer and wolves the hunters have been seeing.”

Levan looked between the two, his brows furrowed.

“Ain’t it strange?” Stepan asked.

“I mean, I suppose.” Levan said, “But, shouldn’t that be expected? They wondered off into the mountains and got attacked by the same thing the deer and wolves did.”

“But what’s attacking ‘em?” Mikal asked.

“I don’t know. Do you?” Levan replied.

Mikal and Stepan shared a glance, before returning to their sausage bread and ale. Levan shook his head and finished his cup of ale.

“So, neither of you know what did it then?”

Mikal put his cup down, “We don’t know for sure, but the tracks we found. They’re pretty damning.”

“Damning?”

Stepan continued, “Vasily said that the tracks were too narrow to be any sort of animal. And the way they were arranged, well it looks like it may be Trogs.”

“Trogs, seriously?”

Levan couldn’t help but smile, it was such a ridiculous theory that he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. Trogs? This far down the mountain, what a load of shit. He thought, They’re just twisting my arm, trying to make me scared for no reason.

“No seriously, Levan.” Mikal said, “It’s Trogs.”

“Yeah, and I’m the King of the Victs.” Levan laughed out.

“Seriously man we aren’t lying. Vasily and Samitry both said that them tracks belonged to Trogs.” Stepan said.

“And have any of you seen a real Trog?” Levan asked.

Stepan and Mikal looked at eachother again, before shaking their heads.

“Right, so you’ve never seen a Trog,” Levan began, “And Vasily and Samitry say it’s Trog tracks, but they too haven’t seen a Trog. So how do they know it’s a Trog?”

“You didn’t see them footprints, Levan.” Mikal complained.

“Look, you guys can go tell your stories to the kids in town, make them scared to sleep tonight. I got work to do.”

Levan left the table, and returned to the forge. Picking up the metal sheet he was working on earlier, luckily his break didn’t deform the metal to badly. He picked up the hammer and began to work the metal against the anvil, the clang echoing out and off the mountains.

That night, Levan sat around a table inside Kirill’s tavern, Stepan and Mikal hadn’t bothered to show up, but there were other people there in the tavern enjoying their night as well. Around his table sat two militiamen, Maks and Urvan, both men still wore their green and brown gambesons and had their pot helmets sitting on the table, their spears sat propped against the wall.

“Look, all I’m saying is if Teodor gave two shits he’d be out there lookin’ for them bandits ‘imself.” Maks exclaimed.

Urvan ran his palm over his face, “You’re head is fogged with ale, man. Teodor is supposed to send others to do it, that’s why he’s the capin’ and you aren’t.”

The two militiamen continued to bicker about Captain Teodor and the expedition they were going on tomorrow. Apparently Stepan, Mikal, Vasily, and Samitry were so afraid that it was Trogs up in the mountains that they went to Teodor and the town militia to organize a search. At least I wasn’t the only one who told them they were overreacting. Levan thought.

There was a possibility that Trogs had indeed come this far down the mountain, but it was more likely a Verdrinkt had stumbled away from its scythe and ended up on its own looking for anything to quench its thirst. But even that was a stretch, the most likely outcome was that it was bandits, or poachers, they always came out this time of year.

Levan rose from the table and took the empty mugs up to the bar counter, Kirill sat behind the bar, cleaning and refilling mugs. He took the mugs from him and began to clean them. Levan took a seat at the counter and looked out over the crowd of people. The tavern itself was a small cozy place, a fire raged at the end of the hall with a stone work that surrounded it.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Old women and wives left embroideries and small idols of Tadhiel or his Angels on the mantle. It was a small yet heartwarming tradition the old women of Zoidiv have been doing for ages. Each embroidery and idol were to join those who died in raids, war, disease, or just old age in their journey to Heaven. It was a nice tradition, he could remember vividly placing Vilip’s hammer on the mantel after his death.

The rest of the tavern was filled with tables, one table in the far left corner was always reserved by the stonemason Yuri, for card games with his friends. They played cards until the sun set, and the moon was directly overhead. The rest of the town usually congregated to Kirill’s tavern, for conversation and socializing with eachother, even the Lord Priests occasionally left their church to join in the socializing.

As he looked out over the crowd Levan noticed two people he had never seen before. A woman dressed in a verdant green dress, with chestnut brown hair, her face hidden beneath the hood of her burgundy cloak. The man sitting with her was equally mysterious, he wore a burgundy brigandine cuirass over sand colored robes, with bleached leather strips that were wrapped around his arms.

He had a white cloth, dirtied by use and dust, around his head, it protruded slightly above his brow, and a burgundy colored cloth mask lay across his face. He was far more armed than the woman he sat with, the belt which he hadn’t bothered to take off, had not only a curved sword but a straight dagger and a small pouch.

Levan turned to Kirill, gesturing at the table, “Who are they?”

Kirill shrugged, still cleaning a mug with a rag, “Couldn’t say, they showed up earlier today, the man ain’t said a word, and the woman only asked for a room and any wine I had.”

Levan turned back to the table, he could see that the woman was talking, but in such a low voice that it would even be a challenge to hear her sitting nearby.

“She didn’t even say why they were here?” Levan asked.

“No, just asked for a room and wine.” Kirill repeated, “But I’d wager she’s a noble of some sort traveling the world.”

Levan chuckled, “I can think of a lot better places to travel to than Zoidiv.”

Kirill laughed with him and placed three mugs on the counter, each filled with more ale. Levan dropped three grivna on the counter and returned to his table. He placed the mugs onto the table, Maks and Urvan quickly grasping their respective mug. They continued their discourse about Teodor, without so much as a thought to include him.

“So, when is the search?” Levan asked.

“Tomorrow, why?” Maks asked.

“Oh, just curious.” Levan said, “Maybe I can join.”

Maks and Urvan simultaneously burst out into laughter. Levan grasped his cup and looked into the dark liquid within it. Before returning his gaze up to the two militiamen.

“What, I’m serious.”

“Look lad, your candor is impressive, but you ain’t a swordsmen.” Urvan said, “Aren’t even half as good of a swordsman as Vilip.”

Levan rolled his eyes, “And how would you know that?”

Urvan leaned over the table, “Come on, lad don’t be stupid. Everyone knows Vilip was the best swordsmen in Zoidiv.”

“But since Vilip is dead, who knows.” Maks said, “Maybe your the second worst swordsman.”

Levan slumped in his chair and took a drink of his ale, while Maks and Urvan laughed and continued their conversation. I’m a good swordsman, obviously I won’t be the same as Vilip, he was a master. But I’m better than these two drunks. He thought, taking another drink of ale.

He sighed, realizing the tavern’s lively atmosphere was not where he wanted to be right now. With a last glance at the roaring fire, he left the tavern, seeking solace outside. Levan found himself out at the well. The well was placed on top of a hill that looked out over the area surrounding Zoidiv. The hills that rolled on forever and worked its way up to the forests and Gilnian Mountains that towered just behind it.

He took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs, and gazed out at the moonlit landscape. Is that what the ocean looks like? Rolling hills of blue water? Levan pondered that often, he couldn’t remember a time when that question didn’t roll into his head, or at least float in the back of his mind. Maybe I’ll see the ocean one day. Maybe one day I’ll leave Zoidiv, set out on my own, have my own path. Not anytime soon, I still have to look after mother, and father. Levan sat in his thoughts for the remainder of the night, letting the moon dip lower and lower in the sky.

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The clearing out by Aleksei’s stable was bustling with activity, the clang of metal and murmur of voices filled the clearing as the morning light filtered through the trees. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-covered grass, mixing with the smell of leather and steel. Levan sat on the fence, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the men ready their arms and armor. The cold steel of Vilip’s sword pressed against his lap. The leather breastplate he wore felt tight and uncomfortable, but it was better than no armor at all.

Even though Stepan and Mikal refused to come out for the search, Vasily and Samitry were out in the morning light. They at least could lead the party up to where they found the tracks. At least that was more than could be said about some of the other hunters who had been up in the forest the previous days. Bizarrely the mysterious duo from the tavern were out in the group. The man sat silently on a rock, sharpening his sword, while the woman sat next to him. Eyes closed? Is she asleep, how can she sleep in all this racket? He thought.

Liya leaned against the fence next to him, her hand running up and down his arm. A shiver ran up his spine, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the anxiety gnawing at him. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes heavy and barely open, but she radiated warmth and concern.

“Why are you going out on this, Levan?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with worry.

Levan looked down at her, her hair waving in the wind. “I want to see what’s out there.”

“Just be safe, and don’t let Maks and Urvan get under your skin,” she said, her arms tightening around his waist, her head resting against his chest.

“I will,” Levan promised, jumping down from the fence and giving her a gentle kiss before joining the larger group. “I’ll be back tonight.”

Levan fell into the crowd that surrounded Captain Teodor. He was easily spotted by his shiny plate mail armor and sand blonde hair. He found himself standing next to the strange duo, they emanated a sense of uneasiness. Though he wasn’t sure if that was because they were uneasy or if they just made people feel uncomfortable.

“Gentlemen…and lady.” Teodor started. “As you all know, our town has been ravaged by an unknown barbarian that lurks in our woods. This barbarian; he kills our deer, the wolves, and he steals away cattle in the night to butcher them the way he does the stag. He must be brought to justice gentlemen.

“We know he hides in these woods, he knows we come for him. Be on your guard while you are out there. This barbarian knows the woods well, and he knows his weapon equally as well as you know yours. But this man does not have what we have. He does not have unity in arms and the faith of Tadhiel and the Angels of Heaven. Go find this barbarian and bring him to justice.”

The crowd cheered, and howled at the speech. Levan couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie that these men had between eachother. Maybe that’s what can fill that void. Levan thought. The group began an unorganized march out of town and up toward the mountains with Vasily and Samitry leading the party.

The march didn’t take nearly as long as he anticipated it, in a few short hours they were already up at the tree line, another hour and a half of traversing the forest and they neared the trail that Vasily and Samitry found yesterday.

Coming up on the decaying corpse of Grigory’s cow the stench became almost unbearable. Flies had begun to pester the closer they got to the corpse, and the smell of mildew and dried blood filled the air. Levan couldn’t bring himself to look upon the dead cow, if it looked anything like it smelled he had gotten enough information out of it.

Luka, Teodor’s second in command and the one in charge of the party, clambered up a rock to make an announcement. Though he had much less swagger and confidence than Teodor, he still managed to garner attention with his towering height and booming voice.

“Thanks to Vasily and Samitry, we have found poor old Grigory’s cow. But we have not found the barbarian that preformed this vile act. Luckily the fool left us tracks to follow. We shall split into several search parties, we will follow this path and the surrounding areas until we find this fiend and take him down.”

The search party split into multiple smaller groups, people pairing up with their friends, relatives, or comrades. Levan, again had nobody to group with. Vasily and Samitry said that this was as far as they’d go and left to return to Zoidiv. Levan’s lack of a group of course led him to be coupled in with the mysterious duo.

They had remained mostly silent, and a few paces behind him as they traversed the forest. They left him to do the tracking and investigating, which to be sure was frustrating. Levan had no experience in tracking or hunting, he was a smith’s son and smith himself. He had never been this deep in the forest.

After hours of searching and coming up empty, Levan let out a sigh and sat down, kicking up rocks and dirt as he did. The mysterious duo approached him; they didn’t sit, they didn’t speak, they simply stared at him. Their cold, ominous stares devoid of any emotion unsettled him. Levan stared back at them for as long as he could muster, but his gaze quickly fell from theirs.

“You going to say something or just stand there and stare?” he questioned.

The duo exchanged a glance, then the woman looked back at him and knelt in front of him. The hood of her cloak still obscured most of her features in shadows, but Levan could make out a piercing green gaze and a thin mouth. Small strands of brown hair draped down over her alabaster skin.

Levan leaned away from her. “Can I help you?”

“You can,” she said, her voice soft yet demanding. Her words carried an air of authority, despite being almost inaudible. “I should introduce myself first. I am Renelle Qouvard, a Mancer of the Ashen Cycle.”

“What the hell is the Ashen Cycle?”

“You’ll find out in time,” she said, removing her hood and letting her brown hair fall to her shoulders.

“What do you want?” Levan asked.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay.” Levan said, furrowing his brows.

Renelle shifted her weight and sat before him, her green eyes piercing right through him in a cold, emotionless gaze. “Tell me, Levan Yefimovich Anzorov, what do you know of the Xilaskar?”

Xilaskar, what the hell is a Xilaskar? And how does she know my name? Levan’s mind raced with thoughts. He could feel his heart beginning to race and his body shake, his hands becoming wet and clammy.

“Please answer the question, Levan.” She said.

“I don’t know what that is. Sorry.” He sputtered.

The woman nodded and outstretched a hand. “Your hand, please.”

“Why?”

“A test.”

“For what?”

“Nothing that concerns you at the moment.” She said, gesturing with her outstretched hand. “Your hand, please.”

Levan stared at the woman’s hand, it was small and pale. They were also clean, there wasn’t a speck of dirt to be found on her palm, in the grooves of her knuckles, or the indents of her fingers. Levan caved, slowly placing his hand atop hers.