Rockhaven CH6 Continued

Cal sat in his favorite chair near the hearth, the warm glow of the fire lighting the room as the soft sounds of conversation filled the space. His daughter, Emma, sat cross-legged on the rug nearby, focused intently on a piece of charcoal in her hand as she worked on a sketch. His wife, Annabelle, sat at the dining table, mending one of Jacob’s shirts with practiced ease, her fingers deftly working the needle and thread.

“This one’s a falcon,” Emma said confidently, holding up her paper for Cal to see. The drawing was sharp and bold, the wings of the bird spread wide as if mid-flight.

Cal leaned forward, studying the image with a smile. “A falcon, huh? Looks like it’s ready to dive for its prey. Strong wings, too—good for flying long distances.”

Emma nodded, a pleased smile crossing her face. “It’s a messenger falcon. It flies all the way to Veloras to deliver important letters.”

“Well, it’s a fine bird,” Cal said, leaning back in his chair. “Just make sure it doesn’t get lost in that big city.”

Annabelle looked up from her sewing with a faint smile. “You’re going to encourage her to start making up stories again, you know.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Cal replied with a chuckle. “Stories are important. Builds imagination.”

Emma beamed at the praise, lowering her paper to make more adjustments to the falcon’s wings. Annabelle shook her head lightly, her expression soft as she turned back to her mending.

For a moment, all felt calm, the crackling of the fire and the faint scratching of Emma’s charcoal filling the room. But as the evening wore on, Cal’s thoughts began to shift toward the meeting he was expected to attend. The tavern awaited, along with the volunteers for the caravan.

Annabelle noticed the change in his demeanor, her hands pausing mid-stitch. “Thinking about tonight?”

Cal nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Yeah. Need to meet with the volunteers, make sure everything’s set before the caravan leaves.”

Annabelle set her sewing aside, folding her hands on her lap. “Just don’t stay out too late,” she said softly, though her tone carried an edge of concern. “It’s not like it used to be, Cal.”

He stood and walked over to place a hand on her shoulder, his expression gentle. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a meeting. Nothing more.”

Annabelle gave him a small, reassuring smile, though the worry didn’t completely leave her eyes. “Make sure you come home in one piece, all right?”

Cal chuckled, adjusting his coat over his shoulder. “I always do, don’t you worry.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead before straightening up, but before he could say more, the door burst open with a loud creak.

Jacob rushed in, his boots thudding against the wooden floor. His shirt was damp with sweat, and dirt streaked his hands and face. “Just give me a few minutes to get cleaned up, and I’ll be ready to go!” he said, his voice hurried but excited.

Cal turned to face him, crossing his arms. “Are the cows watered?”

Jacob paused mid-step, spinning back around to face his father. “Yes, Dad,” he replied with a quick nod. “And I ran the whole fence line to make sure nothing was busted.”

Cal raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild scrutiny. “No breaks at all?”

“Not a single one,” Jacob said confidently, brushing some dirt off his pants. “Now can I go clean up?”

Cal held his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Hurry up, then. We don’t have all night.”

Jacob grinned and bolted toward the wash basin, the sound of water splashing soon following as he scrubbed the dirt from his face and hands.

Annabelle shook her head with a soft laugh, watching her son rush about. “He’s got your energy, you know.”

Cal smirked, settling back in his chair for a brief moment before heading out. “Let’s hope he’s got some of your sense, too.”

The house settled into a quieter hum as Jacob finished cleaning up, the warmth of the hearth casting a soft glow over the room.

Cal and Jacob walked side by side toward town, the cool evening air carrying the faint sounds of chatter and distant music. Cal glanced at his son, breaking the silence. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Jacob shrugged, though the nervous excitement in his voice was clear. “I’m not sure. She asked me to stop by her place for dinner, so I’m guessing I’ll be meeting the whole family.”

Cal nodded knowingly. “And you did ask her father for permission for the other night, right?”

“Of course,” Jacob replied quickly.

“Good.” Cal stopped walking and placed a firm hand on Jacob’s shoulder, his expression serious. “Son… this is going to be awkward for both of us, so I’m sorry I have to ask this, but are you in love with this girl, or are you just looking to… wet your stick?”

Jacob groaned, his face turning red. “Aww, Dad!”

“No,” Cal interrupted, his tone unwavering. “I’m serious. I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s important. Brielle’s a good child, and she deserves respect. I won’t tolerate you making the same stupid, foolish mistakes I made when I was your age.”

Jacob hesitated, his eyes dropping to the ground as he kicked a loose stone along the road. “I… I don’t know about love, Pa. But I know when I’m with her, I feel… happy. She makes me smile. She makes my chest hurt and my stomach flutter, but… in a good way, you know? I don’t know what it is, but when I’m not around her, all I can think about is getting back to her.”

Cal smirked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Damn, son. You’ve got it bad.”

“Got what?” Jacob asked, his brow furrowed.

Cal laughed, shaking his head. “If I never knew anything about love, what you just said would be enough to teach me. You’ve got it bad, son.”

They resumed walking, the crunch of gravel underfoot filling the brief silence before Cal spoke again. “Now, when you get to her house tonight, make sure to greet her first—politely. No kissing or holding her hand in front of her family. Shake her father’s hand, thank him for allowing you to be there, and—this is the most important part—compliment her mother’s cooking.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at his father.

Cal continued, his tone light but firm. “I don’t care if it’s the foulest concoction goblins wouldn’t touch. You clean your plate, say it was the best meal you’ve ever had, and if you can stomach it, ask for seconds.”

Jacob chuckled nervously, nodding. “Got it, Pa. Thanks.”

“Good,” Cal said with a grin, clapping his son on the back as they approached the edge of town.

Cal placed a firm hand on Jacob’s shoulder as they neared the edge of town. “Now, remember what I said, and you’ll be fine. If the meeting doesn’t run long, I’ll be waiting for you outside Brielle’s. I’ll stick to the shadows and won’t spy on your goodbye kiss.”

Jacob groaned, his face turning crimson. “Aww, Pa!”

Cal chuckled, clapping his son on the back. “Otherwise, I expect you at the tavern waiting. Understood?”

“Yes, Pa,” Jacob replied with a quick nod.

As they entered town, the warm glow of lanterns lining the streets lit their path. Cal smiled faintly. “Good. Now get out of here and have a good time.”

Jacob grinned, starting to run off toward Brielle’s house. But after only a few steps, he abruptly stopped and turned back toward his father.

There was a moment of hesitation before Jacob stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Cal in a brief but firm hug. “Thanks for the help, Dad,” he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude.

Before Cal could respond, Jacob was already pulling away, his boots pounding the dirt road as he ran off toward Brielle’s house. Cal stood there for a moment, watching his son disappear into the night with a faint smile on his face.

“Good kid,” he muttered to himself before turning and heading toward the tavern.

Cal pushed open the tavern door, the warmth and noise spilling out into the cool night air. Inside, the familiar group of volunteers sat at a table near the back, mugs in hand as they talked in low tones. Evan, the youngest of them, gestured animatedly, while Osric leaned back in his chair with a knowing smirk. Elric, the mayor, sat at the head of the table, his brow furrowed as he quietly listened.

Cal made his way through the room, the wooden floor creaking under his boots. He pulled out a chair and sat with them, scanning the group. His gaze landed on the empty chair across the table. “Where’s Willem?” he asked, his tone calm but firm.

The table fell silent, the air growing heavy. Elric exchanged a look with Osric before leaning forward. “No one’s seen him since this morning,” the mayor said. “He left early with a cart full of supplies, said he was heading back to the giant.”

Cal’s brow furrowed. “The giant? Again?”

Osric nodded, swirling his ale. “Yeah, that fool’s obsessed. Spent a small fortune on food, drink, and… I don’t even know what else. Said it was a ‘thank you gift.’ Left before anyone could talk sense into him.”

Evan, seated near the edge of the table, chimed in hesitantly. “I saw him hitch the cart up just after dawn. He looked excited, like he couldn’t wait to get out there. Didn’t say much, though, just waved and left.”

“Didn’t think much of it,” Osric added with a shrug. “Figured he’d be back by now.”

Cal sat back, a frown deepening on his face. “And no one’s heard from him since?”

Elric shook his head, his expression grim. “Nothing. He should’ve been back hours ago if everything went smoothly.”

Osric leaned forward, his tone skeptical. “Look, Willem’s a good man, but running off into the mountains alone? Even with a cart of supplies? That’s asking for trouble.”

Cal’s gaze lingered on the empty chair for a moment. He tapped his fingers against the table, his unease growing. Willem wasn’t the type to shirk responsibility, but heading back into the mountains with a cart of goods alone… that was odd.

Cal glanced at the empty chair again, his unease growing with every passing moment. “Well,” he said, breaking the tension, “let’s go over the escort plans. Hopefully, Willem will show up soon.”

The group nodded, and they began discussing the caravan. Osric leaned forward, suggesting they take the western trail instead of the narrow and treacherous eastern pass. Evan, eager but inexperienced, volunteered to scout ahead if needed. Cal listened, adding his thoughts when necessary, but his mind kept drifting to Willem’s absence.

As the conversation wound down, Cal’s gut feeling worsened. Willem was reliable—if he wasn’t here by now, something had gone wrong. Finally, Cal couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He leaned forward, his voice firm. “Willem should’ve been here by now.”

Osric raised an eyebrow. “You’re right. He’s not the type to flake on something like this.”

Evan shifted nervously in his chair. “Do you think… something happened?”

Cal nodded slowly. “I don’t like this. Willem isn’t reckless, but heading into the mountains alone with a cart full of goods? It doesn’t sit right. My gut’s telling me something’s wrong.”

Osric frowned, crossing his arms. “If something’s happened, we need to act. Waiting around isn’t going to help him.”

“We’ll organize a search party,” Cal said, his voice resolute. “First thing in the morning, we head out and find him. If he’s in trouble, we’re not leaving him out there.”

Evan hesitated but finally nodded. “I’m in. Willem’s one of us—we can’t just leave him.”

Osric grunted in agreement, his expression grim. “I’ll bring my axe. No telling what we’ll run into out there.”

“Good,” Cal said, standing. “Make sure you’re ready. Enough food, water, and gear for trouble. We’ll meet back here at dawn.”

The group dispersed, the weight of the situation hanging heavy over them. Cal remained seated for a moment, his gaze lingering on Willem’s empty chair.

He muttered to himself, “damn it Willem"

Rok stepped out of his cave, the morning sun casting long shadows over the rugged terrain. Normally, he would head toward the stream to drink before searching for shinies in the familiar hills, but today, something was different. A faint tug in his chest urged him to go the other way, away from his usual paths.

He followed the feeling, his heavy footsteps crunching over loose rocks and dirt as he descended toward the base of the mountains. The pull felt stronger with each step, guiding him as if the path had already been chosen for him.

As he reached a flatter stretch of land near the base of the mountains, something unusual caught his eye. In the distance, he saw two dark shapes sprawled awkwardly on the ground, with a wrecked cart lying on its side nearby.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

Rok stopped about two dozen paces away, his brow furrowing as he took in the scene. The cart’s wheel was shattered, its frame splintered. Two dead horses lay motionless, harnesses torn. Arrows jutted from the cart and the ground around it.

“What this?” Rok muttered, staring at the scene in confusion.

Elara’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp and serious. “This was an ambush, Rok. Look at the arrows. Someone attacked here. It wasn’t random.”

Rok frowned, his gaze lingering on the wreckage, but he didn’t move closer. Something about the scene made him uneasy, the faint pull in his chest still urging him onward.

Got it! Let me fix that immediately and ensure I use the correct creature name, Gralkith.

Rok cautiously stepped forward, his massive form looming over the wreckage. He approached the overturned cart, its splintered frame jutting out awkwardly, and crouched down. Gripping its side, he heaved it upright with ease, the broken wheels groaning as they shifted under the weight. One wheel was missing entirely, and the others were shattered, unable to support the cart any longer.

As he lifted the cart, something caught his eye beneath it. A human body, face down in the dirt, motionless.

Rok stared for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion. Gently, he reached out with a single massive finger, nudging the body until it rolled over. He froze, recognition dawning as he saw the face.

“Rok friend…” Rok muttered, his voice low and filled with uncertainty.

He crouched closer, his sharp eyes scanning the lifeless features of the man who had been so kind to him. “Why… nice human here?” Rok’s voice wavered with confusion, his thoughts racing.

He wasn’t stupid—he knew death. He’d seen it in fights with the Gralkith, those bone-plated monsters of the mountains, and when hunting for food. He recognized the stillness, the emptiness in Willem’s eyes. Rok knew his friend was dead. But why?

Elara’s voice broke through his tumultuous thoughts, firm but somber. “It was an ambush, Rok. Look at the arrows, the wreckage… bandits, most likely. They must have killed him.”

Rok’s massive hands balled into fists, the ground beneath him trembling slightly as his weight shifted. His breathing grew heavier, his chest heaving as the realization sank in. Rok friend was gone.

Rok tilted his head back and let out a primal roar that echoed across the mountains, shaking the very air around him. His fury was raw, uncontainable, fueled by a deep sense of loss and injustice. His body tensed, his muscles rippling with barely restrained rage.

He stood there, towering over the wreckage and Willem’s lifeless body, his roar fading into the stillness of the morning as his anger burned hot and unrelenting.

Rok stormed off, his heavy footsteps pounding the earth as the pull in his chest grew stronger, guiding him toward something he couldn’t see but instinctively knew was ahead.

“Rok!” Elara’s voice rang out in his mind, sharp and urgent. “You have to stop! You can’t chase them down like this, not while you’re angry.”

Rok ignored her, his jaw set, his breath heavy and ragged. “Bandits pay. Bandits kill Rok friend. Rok kill bandits. Bandits pay!”

The rage surged through him, boiling over as he tilted his head back and let out another primal roar, his voice echoing through the mountains. His fury pushed him forward, faster and more determined, his sharp eyes scanning the ground for any sign of the bandits.

Elara tried again, her tone pleading but steady. “Rok, listen to me! Charging in like this will only make things worse! You have to—”

But her words were drowned out as Rok surged forward, his powerful legs carrying him further into the wilderness, his focus narrowed on vengeance. He wasn’t thinking of strategy or caution—only of making the ones responsible for Willem’s death pay.

Rok followed the trail relentlessly, his sharp eyes tracking the faint signs of movement: scuffed dirt, broken branches, and the occasional hoofprint leading him deeper into the wilderness. The pull in his chest grew stronger with every step, guiding him toward the source of his anger.

As the trail wound its way down into a deep canyon, Rok paused at the edge, his massive frame silhouetted against the rising sun. His keen eyes scanned the canyon floor, and it didn’t take long for him to spot what he was looking for.

Far below, nestled against the rocky walls, was the bandit camp. A few tattered tents formed a loose circle, with horses tied to makeshift posts on the outskirts. A small fire crackled in the center, its thin plume of smoke rising lazily into the air. Scattered supplies and barrels lay strewn about, while a handful of figures moved between the tents, oblivious to the giant watching them from above.

Rok crouched slightly, his gaze narrowing. His larger eyes, sharp and focused, allowed him to pick out details the bandits themselves might not have noticed—an extra quiver of arrows propped against a tent, a rusty axe leaning on a barrel, the glint of a poorly hidden sword near the fire.

Elara’s voice broke into his thoughts, calm but firm. “Rok, you need to think this through. There are too many of them to just—”

But Rok had already made up his mind. His lips curled into a snarl as his fists clenched. There was no strategy, no hesitation—only anger.

Without a word, Rok roared again, his voice echoing through the canyon like a thunderclap, and charged down the slope. The ground shook beneath his massive strides as he barreled toward the camp, his fury driving him forward with unstoppable force.

Rok charged forward, his massive strides closing the distance to the camp in moments. The bandits, startled by the thunderous noise of his approach, began to react, scrambling for weapons and shouting warnings to each other. As he neared the edge of the camp, Rok let out another deafening, primal roar that reverberated through the canyon.

Level Up!

Class: Stonebreaker

Level: 10

New Skills Unlocked:

Primal Roar

Stone Skin

Stone Crush

The words echoed in his mind, but Rok ignored them, his focus entirely on the bandits ahead. Even Elara’s voice, trying to cut through the haze of his fury, was drowned out by his rage.

The new skills flooded him with knowledge, instincts he hadn’t possessed moments before. On pure impulse, Rok activated Stone Skin, feeling the power surge through him as his body took on a stony, impenetrable appearance.

The first arrows flew toward him, their sharp tips striking his hardened skin but bouncing harmlessly away. Rok didn’t stop, his fury propelling him forward as the bandits scrambled to defend themselves against the unstoppable force bearing down on them.

As Rok closed in on the camp, he activated Primal Roar, unleashing a thunderous bellow that reverberated through the canyon. The sound was deafening, forcing every bandit in the camp to clutch their ears in pain and disorientation.

With a powerful leap, Rok hurled himself into the air, landing in the center of the camp with an earth-shaking crash. One of his massive feet came down squarely on an unfortunate bandit, crushing the man instantly beneath his weight.

Chaos erupted as the remaining bandits scrambled to regroup. Rok wasted no time, swinging his leg out to kick over tents, sending canvas and supplies flying in all directions. A group of bandits charged him with weapons drawn, but Rok slammed his massive fist downward, scattering them like leaves.

In the midst of the carnage, a sudden sharp, biting pain jolted him from his fury. Rok roared in surprise, lifting his foot to see a human wielding a two-handed axe buried partly in his heel.

The giant spun around, enraged, his massive fist swinging toward the attacker. But the human darted away, a burst of speed carrying him just out of Rok’s reach—a skill, no doubt.

Rok roared again, his voice filled with fury, and gave chase. The human appeared briefly, dodging and weaving, but Rok was relentless. His massive fists smashed into the ground again and again, each impact sending tremors through the earth as he tried to crush the nimble attacker.

The chase continued, Rok’s rage driving him forward, smashing the ground wherever the human dared to step.

Rok’s sharp eyes locked onto the human as he darted from place to place, each movement accompanied by a burst of unnatural speed. The bandit was clever, using his skill to keep just ahead of Rok’s massive fists. Each time Rok slammed the ground, the human was already gone, reappearing a few steps away, tauntingly out of reach.

Rok’s frustration mounted, his fury boiling over. He growled deeply, his rage channeling into action as he lifted his fist high. This time, he activated Stone Crush.

When Rok’s fist struck the ground, it wasn’t just an impact—it was devastation. A shockwave rippled outward in a wide circle, the rocky earth trembling and buckling as cracks splintered through the ground. The force knocked over tents, scattered debris, and sent smaller bandits tumbling, but Rok’s focus was solely on the shifty bandit.

The human’s eyes widened as the ripple reached him, his footing lost in an instant. He stumbled and fell, his skill failing him as the ground gave way beneath him. Before he could react, Rok surged forward with terrifying speed for his size.

Rok’s massive hand closed around the human with a crushing force, lifting him off the ground like a child might snatch a toy. The man screamed, his fists pounding uselessly against Rok’s stony skin.

“Rok friend…” Rok growled, his voice rumbling like thunder. “Bandit kill Rok friend. Bandit pay.”

The bandit’s struggles grew more frantic, but it was hopeless. Rok’s grip tightened, the bones in the man’s body snapping audibly, his cries silenced in a heartbeat. Rok crushed the life from him with the same ease that a human might crumple a piece of parchment.

With a disgusted snarl, Rok threw the mangled body to the ground, the lifeless form landing with a heavy thud. He stood there for a moment, his chest heaving, his rage still burning but beginning to ebb. The other bandits, those who hadn’t already fled or been crushed, stayed out of sight, too terrified to approach.

Rok’s gaze swept over the wreckage of the camp. Tents lay flattened, supplies scattered, and the fire was now just smoldering ash. But Rok no longer cared. His fury had run its course, and all that was left was a hollow ache.

Without another word, Rok turned and stomped away from the camp, each step shaking the ground beneath him. He didn’t look back, didn’t search for more bandits, didn’t care about the destruction he had left behind.

He only wanted to go home.

As Rok stomped away from the wreckage of the camp, his massive feet crunching against the rocky terrain, the adrenaline of his fury began to fade. A quiet stillness settled over him, but the ache in his chest remained. His mind turned to Willem, the kind human who had called him a friend, who had brought him gifts and spoken to him without fear.

Elara’s voice broke the silence in his mind, calm and gentle but tinged with sorrow. “Rok, are you all right?”

Rok grunted, his eyes fixed on the ground ahead. “No. Rok… angry. Sad. Willem gone. Bandits pay, but Willem still gone.”

“I know,” Elara replied softly. “You did what you could, Rok. But sometimes… even when we fight, even when we win, the people we care about are still gone.”

Rok growled low in his throat, his shoulders hunching as he walked. “Why… why bandits do this? Willem nice human. Help Rok. Why kill?”

Elara hesitated before answering, her voice heavier now. “Because some people take what they want without care for others. Some people choose to harm, to destroy, because they think it makes them stronger. It doesn’t make sense, Rok. It never has. But it’s why people like you are important—to stop them.”

Rok didn’t reply, his steps slowing as he approached the area where Willem’s lifeless body still lay. “Rok bury Willem,” he said quietly.

Elara’s voice softened. “How will you do it?”

Rok continued in the direction of Willem’s body, his tone resolute. “Giants bury with stone. Protect from wind, animals, bad things. Willem deserve stone burial.”

Elara was silent for a moment before speaking again, her tone reverent. “That’s… beautiful, Rok. I think Willem would be honored.”

As Rok left the canyon, his massive form emerging into the open expanse, his eyes narrowed. Ahead, near the wreckage of the ambush, movement caught his attention. Humans—several of them—were gathered around the site where Willem’s body lay.

Rok’s breath caught, and his teeth bared in a snarl. More bandits. His fury reignited instantly, a fire that surged through his chest and into his limbs. His fists clenched, and without a moment’s hesitation, he charged.

“Bandits pay!” he roared, the ground trembling beneath his massive strides.

The humans froze at the sound, their heads snapping toward him. Panic spread through the group as they scattered, some backing away with hands raised, others shouting at him in frantic tones. Their words were lost on Rok, drowned out by the pounding of his heart and the roar of his anger.

As he barreled closer, Elara’s voice erupted in his mind, sharp and commanding, cutting through his rage. “ROK! STOP! These are not bandits!”

His steps faltered slightly, but he didn’t stop, his anger still surging. “How know!?” he growled, his voice like distant thunder.

Elara’s tone was firm, insistent. “They’re shouting—they’re villagers! They said they’re from Rockhaven. Willem’s home!”

Rok’s strides slowed further, his massive chest heaving, his anger beginning to give way to confusion. His fists remained clenched, his enormous form towering over the humans, but the fire in his eyes dimmed slightly.

“Villagers…” he rumbled, his voice uncertain.

He stopped, his gaze landing on one human standing directly before him, cutlass raised in a steady hand. “If not bandits, why he have sword?”

“That’s a cutlass,” Elara explained quickly in his mind. “He’s armed, but he’s not attacking—he’s standing his ground. He probably means to protect the others from you, Rok. You should apologize for charging at them like you did. It was a simple mistake.”

With Elara’s urging, Rok took a deep breath, his voice rumbling like distant thunder as he spoke. “Rok… sorry. Not mean to scare. Thought you were more bandits.”

The human with the cutlass, his stance firm and unwavering, regarded Rok with cautious eyes but didn’t lower his weapon.

Rok crouched slowly, his massive knees bending as he came down near Willem’s lifeless form. His movements were surprisingly gentle, and he extended a single finger toward Willem. Like a human might delicately touch the petal of a flower, Rok placed his finger on Willem’s boot, his expression heavy with sorrow.

“Rok stopped bandits,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Bandits hurt Rok friend. Rok… revenge friend.”

“Avenge, Rok,” Elara corrected softly, her tone carrying a quiet sadness.

Rok’s head tilted slightly at her words before he repeated, “Rok avenge friend.”

The humans around him exchanged glances, their initial wariness shifting to understanding as they watched the giant’s careful, sorrowful actions.

Rok remained crouched, his massive form now protective rather than threatening, his grief and regret plain for all to see.

Cal lowered his cutlass, his gaze sharp but steady as he addressed the giant. “Your name is Rok, yeah? Willem mentioned you.”

Rok’s massive head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing. “Willem… talked of Rok?”

“Aye,” Cal replied, his tone even. “Said you saved him. Had the town in a bit of an uproar, telling anyone who’d listen about how a giant came out of nowhere and saved his life. He was grateful—grateful enough to buy up everything he could and haul it up here for you.”

Rok’s eyes shifted to Willem’s still form, his massive frame sagging slightly. “Willem… kind. Rok not deserve… so much.”

Cal’s grip on his cutlass tightened slightly before he relaxed, his tone hard but fair. “He didn’t owe you anything, Rok. But he wanted to show he appreciated what you did for him. Not many would risk their life for another, let alone a stranger.”

Cal glanced at the villagers behind him, their faces a mix of wariness and sadness. His expression softened slightly, though his voice remained firm. “We came out here to find him. Willem never showed up for a meeting last night in town. We figured something might’ve happened.” He stepped closer, keeping a respectful distance. “We’d like to take him back to the village, Rok. Give him a proper burial.”

Rok stared down at Willem’s lifeless form, his massive hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Giants bury with stone. Protect from wind, animals, bad things. Willem deserve giant burial.”

Cal sighed, his voice low but steady. “I get that, Rok. But Willem’s people are back in the village—his family, his friends. They deserve the chance to say goodbye. We bury our own.”

Rok’s brow furrowed, conflict clear in his expression. He glanced at Elara’s sword, which he had left back in his cave but could still feel in his mind. “What right thing?” he asked quietly.

Elara’s voice chimed in softly, her tone understanding. “Let them take him, Rok. They need to grieve, to honor him in their way. It’s what Willem would have wanted.”

Rok hesitated for a long moment before nodding slowly, his massive shoulders slumping. “Rok… understand. Humans take Willem. But humans care for Willem.”

Cal nodded, his grip on the cutlass loosening completely. “We’ll take care of him, Rok. You have my word.”

Rok stepped back, his towering frame still casting a shadow over the group. He watched silently as the villagers carefully moved toward Willem’s body, their movements cautious but reverent. The air was heavy with the weight of loss, but there was also a quiet understanding between the giant and the villagers.

Rok straightened to his full height, towering over the humans. He glanced once more at Willem’s lifeless form, now surrounded by the villagers preparing to take him back to Rockhaven.

“Rok go home now,” he rumbled, his voice low and heavy with finality.

Cal nodded, meeting the giant’s gaze without fear. “Fair enough, Rok. You’ve done more than enough.”

Without another word, Rok turned and began his slow, lumbering walk back toward the mountains. The ground trembled slightly with each of his massive steps, but his shoulders were slumped, and his head hung low.

Elara’s voice whispered softly in his mind as he trudged away. “You did the right thing, Rok. Willem would’ve wanted it this way.”

Rok grunted but didn’t reply, his thoughts focused on the path ahead. He was tired, his chest heavy with emotions he didn’t fully understand.

The canyon behind him grew smaller with each step, the sounds of the humans fading into the distance. By the time he reached the familiar trails of his mountain home, Rok felt the first faint tug of comfort in the solitude. The cave awaited, his collection of shinies and the quiet warmth of his fire offering a small solace against the loss he had witnessed.

Cal watched the giant retreat, his massive form growing smaller with each lumbering step. Even as the echoes of Rok’s heavy footsteps faded, Cal remained rooted to the spot, his mind reeling from what had just transpired.

He glanced at Elric and Osric, both of whom wore expressions that mirrored his own disbelief. Finally, his gaze returned to Willem’s body, lying still and silent among the wreckage.

“You think the giant was telling the truth?” Elric asked, his voice hesitant, breaking the heavy silence.

Osric, always the pragmatist, squatted down and picked up one of the arrows sticking out of the ground near the cart. He turned it over in his hands, then gestured at the scene around them. “Looks that way. Look at the arrows—there’s no way a giant could fire something this small with hands like his. And these tracks here?” He gestured toward the ground. “Human-sized footprints, not a giant’s.”

“Yeah, but…” Elric hesitated, glancing toward where Rok had disappeared, “but he had blood on him.”

Cal’s voice cut in, firm but calm. “He said he avenged Willem. Stopped the bandits. And if a giant says he stopped them, I’m guessing he stopped them for good.”

Elric blinked, looking at Cal. “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying the giant killed the bandits,” Cal replied, his tone even as he glanced at Willem’s body again. He let out a slow sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just a shame they got to Willem first.”

Osric stood and dusted his hands off, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. At least the giant kept his word. That much I can respect.”

Cal crouched near Willem’s body, his expression hard but tinged with sadness. “We need to get him up and start making our way back. It’s going to take twice as long to get to town now with the cart busted, and I don’t want to be out here when night falls.”

The other two men nodded, moving to help as Cal carefully lifted Willem’s body, wrapping him in a spare cloak they had brought. The three of them worked in solemn silence, their thoughts heavy as they prepared for the long trek back to Rockhaven.

The journey back was long and grueling, each step dragging more than the last. The sun bore down relentlessly, and the weight of Willem’s body added a grim heaviness to their task. By the time they neared the outskirts of the village, all three men were covered in sweat, their clothes clinging uncomfortably to their skin.

For Cal, the physical exhaustion wasn’t the worst part. It was Elric’s endless stream of complaints.

“This is taking forever,” Elric muttered for what felt like the hundredth time. “Why didn’t we bring more people to help? Why do I have to carry the damn—”

“Elric,” Cal snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut through the whining. “If you say one more word, I swear to every god listening, I’ll leave you out here with the goblins.”

“Or worse,” Osric muttered, half under his breath but loud enough for Cal to hear.

The thought earned a rare chuckle from Cal, though it was short-lived. “The next time that idiot volunteers for something, he’d better think twice. I’ll make sure of it.” He adjusted his grip on the makeshift stretcher they’d rigged for Willem. “Fucking fool.”

Osric shot Cal a sidelong glance, smirking slightly despite his own exhaustion. “If it helps, I’ve been keeping count of how many times he’s complained. I’m up to thirty-six.”

“Thirty-seven,” Cal corrected, rolling his eyes.

Elric, oblivious or simply too stubborn to care, kept muttering under his breath, though quieter now, likely sensing the other men’s rising irritation.

As they finally crested the last hill and the village came into view, Cal let out a slow, relieved breath. “Almost there. Let’s just get Willem home.”

Osric nodded, his expression softening slightly as they descended toward Rockhaven. Elric, mercifully, said nothing for once, perhaps too tired to complain any further.

Despite the physical toll, Cal couldn’t shake the thoughts running through his head: of Willem, of the giant, and of the strange circumstances that had brought them all together.

He shook his head, the confusion gnawing at him. “It just doesn’t add up. It’s bizarre.”

“You’re thinkin’ about that giant, aren’t ya?” Osric asked, glancing sideways at Cal as they trudged forward.

“Aye,” Cal admitted, his tone laced with frustration. “Why would a giant be out here alone? And why would a giant save anyone? I just don’t get it.”

“Can we stop for a rest?” Elric whined, his voice grating.

“Shut up!” Cal and Osric snapped at him in unison.

“I’ll kill him, Oz, I swear it,” Cal growled, his tone low but deadly serious.

Osric chuckled, his voice light despite the grim task they carried out. “You’d better not. I don’t want to carry Willem’s body and Elric’s.”

Cal snorted, despite himself.

Osric smirked, then his expression turned more thoughtful. “Gotta say, though… when that giant came charging at us, I thought for sure we were all dead.”

“Agreed,” Cal muttered, the memory sending a shiver down his spine.

“So… what do we do about the giant?” Elric asked hesitantly, his tone full of unease. “Are we going to kill it?”

“Shut up!” Cal and Osric barked at him again, their combined voices echoing through the hills.

“No, you damned fool,” Osric said, shooting Elric a glare. “It ain’t bothering us. And I’d be willing to stake all the money in the world that giant could destroy the village if he wanted, and there wouldn’t be a damned thing we could do about it.”

“We leave it be,” Cal added, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument. “No sense provoking it. It clearly didn’t want trouble with us once it figured out we weren’t more bandits. It’s just trying to live. So we’ll let it.”

The sun was dipping below the hills by the time they reached the village. All three men were drenched in sweat, their faces streaked with dirt and exhaustion plain in their every step. Despite Elric’s near-constant complaining, he had carried his weight, managing to help get Willem’s body back to Rockhaven without slowing them down.

As they stopped in the square to catch their breath, Cal turned to Elric, his expression hard. “Listen here, Elric. No one likes someone who complains and bitches the whole way through a hard task. We’re all tired. We’re all hot. We’re all sweating our guts out, and none of us are having a good time carrying back the body of a friend.” He leaned in, his tone low but cutting. “You need to learn to suck it up and keep your damned mouth shut. You carried your weight, I’ll give you that. But if you’d kept quiet instead of whining the whole way, you might’ve earned my respect. Now get the fuck out of here.”

Elric opened his mouth as if to protest but thought better of it, his face reddening as he turned and scrambled off into the shadows.

Osric watched him go, shaking his head slightly. “Bit harsh on the lad, don’t you think? I know you don’t tolerate fools, Cal, but constant bitching or not, he was trying.”

“I know, Oz,” Cal muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out a weary sigh. “But Willem’s dead. And he’s more worried about his own comfort than getting Willem home. That doesn’t sit right with me.”

Osric nodded, though he didn’t say anything further, his face lined with exhaustion and grief.

Cal glanced at Willem’s body, now wrapped carefully in a cloak. “Let’s get Willem to the storehouse. He can stay there until we figure out arrangements in the morning.”

“Agreed,” Osric replied quietly.

The two men carried Willem’s body the last stretch of the way to the small storage building near the edge of the village, usually reserved for grain and tools but now serving as a place of temporary rest for their fallen friend. They laid him down gently, their movements respectful despite their fatigue.

As they stepped outside, Cal leaned against the doorframe, staring out at the darkening sky. “Let’s just get this over with tomorrow. I need to get home.”

Osric clapped him on the shoulder, offering a small nod of understanding before the two parted ways, their exhaustion weighing heavier with each step.