Years passed without any word from Bryn. The twins grew and Dyla spent her days teaching them. They learned their letters and about different plants in the garden. They learned their manners when among people, but whenever left to their own devices, returned to their wild ways, always preferring the river and trees to the walls and company of the townspeople.

The town itself began to change. Two of the southern Jarls had banded together and had attacked Stadrhym, seeking to dethrone the High King and take control. The civil war raged across the south sending refugees north where some came and settled in Hjor. Despite the heavy taxes demanded by the High King from the northern Jarls, Jarl Soren grew wealthy from the war, selling the food from the untouched north farmlands to the starving armies and cities of the southern regions.

The Jarl seemed to grow younger with Bryn's absence. He began construction of a wall around the town, optimistically planning it to leave room for another neighborhood in its borders. The new families that did settle in Hjor of course heard of Bryn and his wild ways, but many scoffed and considered the stories exaggeration by bored townsfolk. After all, Dyla seemed like such a gentle woman, aloof but not the cruel wife of a blood-thirsty barbarian. Besides, they were determined they had left their troubles behind them in the south.

The war raged on and on the fourth year of Bryn's absence from Hjor, the High King succeeded, banishing the surviving traitorous Jarls and enstating new loyal Jarls. One of the new Jarls was Tyrik Hurson. And it was through him, as he visited the other Jarl's to renew trade contracts and political alliances, that news of Bryn finally came.

Jarl Hurson walked besides Jarl Soren as he enthusiastically showed him where the walls would run. As they passed Bryn's estate, Tyrik stopped.

"You know, I heard a curious story from General Firir."

Jarl Soren turned, wondering why Tyrik was bringing up the leader of the king's army now. "Oh?"

"Yes, he said that his spies had received word of where the enemy's army had made camp. They could easily ambush them and secure a victory in that region, however, a pair of giants had settled in the area they would need to cross.

"Of course the general couldn't afford to lose men defeating the giants and was planning how to get the army through the mountains when there was a commotion. The general went to investigate and found his men had left their posts and were all watching the giant's camp where a single enormous man was fighting both giants."

The Jarl's face paled and Jarl Hurson continued, not taking his eyes off the estate.

"He said the man fought like the gods' wrath incarnate. He defeated both giants. General Firir, eager to meet the man who had inadvertently solved his problems, sent soldiers down to get him. The man came, still bleeding from the battle, despite apparently using a few arcane attacks in his onslaught. The general thanked him and offered him a place of command in the army. The man laughed in his face and told him that if he had indeed done them a service that they should pay him all the gold they had.

"Of course the general was greatly offended by this and demanded the man join the High King's forces, officially conscripting him and ordering him captured."

Hurson turned to the Jarl, his dark eyes studying his reactions. "He told me the man killed six soldiers before getting away."

The Jarl tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. "Ah—well that is quite the story."

"Indeed. Now I do wonder if Lord Bryn has been at his estate, it is, of course, treason to desert the High King's army."

Before the Jarl could respond, Tyrik spotted Dyla in the garden. "Ah, Lady Dyla, it has been too long."

Startled, Dyla turned, her green eyes widening at the sight of Tyrik in Jarl robes instead of captain's armor.

"Oh Captain Hurson, I was unaware you were in town."

Hurson gave a slight bow. "It's Jarl Hurson now, actually. Benefits of being on the winning side of the war."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I apologize for mistitling you, Jarl." Dyla curtseyed. "I'm afraid I have not been attentive to the political changes of the south."

Before Jarl Soren could signal Dyla that something was wrong, Tyrik marched to the gate and asked, "Tell me, lady, does your husband attend the southern politics."

Dyla's smile faltered for a moment. "No, sir, he abhors politics."

"And is he home?"

The green eyes narrowed. "No, sir, he is on one of his wanders I'm afraid."

"A shame. How long has he been away?" The new Jarl gave a sly smile and Dyla immediately sensed danger, glancing at the Jarl Soren whose pale and jittery behavior confirmed her fears.

"A long time. Trade is hard in wartime."

"Of course."

Before Dyla could try to steer the conversation another direction, Jarl Hurson bowed a farewell and marched confidently back to Jarl Soren's manor. He left the next morning and that day, Jarl Soren sent for Dyla.

She was shown into his office. The Jarl was pacing the floor, his face red and his hair, speckled with greys, was messy from running his hands through it. Dyla sat down and he whirled.

"Damn it woman, how does Bryn cause me so much trouble when he isn't even here!? Jarl Hurson practically demanded my tax records. If he sees those records he will realize I've not been accounting your estate. Your sizable estate. That is a lot of gold the crown did not receive during the war. With the political climate, I could be removed. And then on top of that Bryn had to go and insult the general! He killed six of the general's personal soldiers!"

Dyla let the man rant until finally he sank into a chair and was silent for a moment. With a groan he waved at his paper lidden desk.

"I bought us a month. A month and I need to personally deliver our records to the capital." He covered his face, sighed heavily, and stood up. His hands fell away, revealing a colder more determined expression.

"He's been gone for four years. By all accounts he never said he'd come back. I don't have a choice. I don't know how you've even kept the estate up this long but I have to demand you pay the overdue taxes or I will have the king's army seize your estate."

He walked to the desk, plucked a paper off it, and extended it to Dyla. She could see the huge sum written on it but her lips curled and she stared at it in disgust. She too had wondered how they would afford the estate without Bryn returning each winter with his chest of gold. That was until Ulris revealed to her the secret room Bryn had ordered to be built in the cellar. Since the start of construction, Bryn's day wanders had taken him through Valhym where he had stashes of loot from throughout his raiding days.

Dyla had underestimated his wealth, having only known him a short while before they'd settled in Hjor. Stacks of coins and barrels of goods filled the safe when Ulris had shown her. Of course, now even that was nearly gone. But despite their dwindling stores and Bryn's continued absence, Dyla refused to give up any part of the estate. She stood, not taking the paper.

"He is gone, not dead, Jarl Soren. I am not the owner of the estate and cannot bargain. You have an agreement with Bryn and I can only advise you to keep it."

She turned to leave and the Jarl shouted after her, "I won't protect you anymore, I swear it. I'm not going to be ruined by a man whose wife hasn't even seen him in years. You hear me? You have one month!"

She stalked back to the estate calling Ulris into the office and quickly relaying the information. Ulris stood and took it in, nodding occasionally. When she'd finished he asked permission to speak his opinion and she granted it.

"From a business perspective, I would advise we sell the estate to the Jarl, buy his manor and use the difference to pay the taxes if he will agree to those terms. But as Bryn's steward, having sworn to serve the man who saved my life and not his bank accounts, I suggest we wait. If the estate is seized and the lord does return, then I imagine he will seize it back when he wants it."

Dyla smiled, she had thought the same thing. They would wait.

Two weeks later, a messenger ran into Hjor, his breath ragged. The Jarl was immediately called and the messenger handed him a letter, gasping, "Jarl Soren, sir, Kolsvik has fallen. The Duskar have invaded!"

The Jarl ripped the letter opening, quickly scanning its contents as townsfolk gathered around. He signaled the messenger to be taken care of and then strode back to his manor, whispering anxiously to his steward. When he returned to the square an hour later, every resident of Hjor, including Dyla, had gathered there.

Jarl Soren stepped up on a platform that had been set up and cleared his throat to silence the crowd. "Citizens of Hjor, it is true that the Duskars of the Archipelago have declared war. They have taken Kolsvik and Vosfell is under siege. Because they are limited to attacks on our coasts, the High King calls upon us and our neighboring Jarldoms to provide food and supplies. Gather all that you can spare and we need thirty able bodies to leave at dawn to transport the goods to Vosfell."

There was a roar of voices and a mess of arguing and volunteerings, bickering here and debating together there, the mess slowly being sorted out to the Jarl's satisfaction. He was the only one who saw Dyla slip away smiling.

Although the idea of not being able to get rid of her and Bryn made the Jarl shudder, he did have to admit it was more satisfying this way. Vosfell was Tyrik's new Jarldom and he had little room to threaten and throw his new weight around when his survival depended on them. Yes, the Jarl felt like grinning a bit himself but knew it was hardly appropriate, they were at war after all.