When they reached the town of Crove, nestled up between two of the last few mountains in the Drake’s Tail range next to a small cove, Valen heaved a sigh somewhere between relieved and resigned.

After exiting the old tunnel system, their group had descended to the small game trail they'd noticed previously and followed it through the forest until they eventually reached a full road. The moon had been rising by then, so they made camp. The next morning, earlier today, they had begun to follow the larger road. It was an old and rarely used, plain even to Hera, who remarked just as much. Valen assumed that it was likely only ever used by hunters, and even then just sparsely.

Now, as he saw the fishing boats dotting the waters of the cove and some beyond as well, he understood why. Crove looked as though there could be about five, maybe six hundred people living there. Not a city, but a fairly large town, especially compared to the towns Valen had grown used to near the Divide. With the farmland they passed as they approached the town, he supposed that it would make sense for it to have grown to its size, even when it was so isolated.

They were completely self-sustainable; from the plentiful game in the forests surrounding them and in the lower reaches of the mountains, to the crop fields they were riding through now, and even the boats he had seen before, they had all of the food and wood supplies they would ever need. Not to mention, the folk who called these lands along Parovia’s Eastern coast home were the hardiest people he had ever seen.

To Valen, it was like finding a hidden little paradise.

“It looks like the Empire has not been here in a long time,” Simon said just loud enough for their own party to hear, as they passed several burly men laughing as they worked in the fields. Valen glanced skyward as Hedrick spoke up to answer – it was almost as if he had simply taken it as his own duty on their journey into Manidar to teach and explain the things they saw and lands they passed through – looking around for Raenelir.

The wyvern circled far overhead, still joyous about being in the open again. That was probably good; they did not want to startle any of the people of Crove by approaching town with such a large wyvern at their back. Aevra, for her part, was curled up in the saddle in front of Hera, sleeping soundly. To anyone they passed it looked more like Valen’s sister simply carried a bundle of some kind in front of her, instead of a live drake.

“There’s a reason for that, actually. Crove, along with most of the other towns along Parovia’s Eastern coast, were once populated entirely by a warrior people known as the Eastocs. When the Empire sent their armies and their riders out here to bring the Eastocs to heel, it was more out of necessity than any kind of real desire to face such renowned warriors. If I remember correctly, that was only slightly more than a hundred years ago, if even that,” Hedrick began, shifting in his seat and glancing over at the four of them still riding at the center of the rangers' formation before he continued.

“The men and women who call Crove their home are a good-humored folk, to be sure, but they are also strong and defiant. They don't take kindly to outsiders trying to tell them what to do. They were sea raiders for many years, travelling all around the edges of the continent to pillage the towns and villages that lived too closely to the ocean. If the stories are to be believed, they even sailed across the sea to lands unknown.” Here, Hedrick paused, giving them all a chance to digest the information.

So, they had been raiders, fighters, even explorers – it was easy to understand that they would not have easily submitted to the rule of the Emperor, even in the face of the Empire’s Legions and dragon riders.

“In the end, the thing that finally pushed the current Emperor’s grandfather to conquer these lands was the simple fact that he could not allow their pillaging of his lands to continue unpunished. They came and conquered, but it came at a bloody cost, and even after their loss the Eastocs remained angry and defiant in the face of their new rulers. As long as they swore not to pillage and raid anymore, and did not attempt to break away from the ruling council of Chieftains that held sway over their lands, the Eastoc people – such as the people of Crove – would be allowed to largely rule themselves and live their lives apart from the Empire in peace.”

Samorr chuckled, drawing their attention to the back of their group.

“Lucky bastards, eh? Who knew that if we were just a bit more violent before the Imperials started conquering the other lands of Parovia, we might have been left to manage ourselves?” the redheaded ranger said. Valen realized with a shock that while he sounded a bit amused by this, there was a dark rage in his eyes that he had never seen in the man before. He had to remind himself that though they had grown used to the company of the rangers, they still largely did not know much about their pasts.

“They certainly are,” Samuel said, and when Valen glanced over at him he looked like he was barely containing his own anger as well. That made sense; the twins had suffered almost as much as a person could because of heavy-handed Imperial rule. Valen and Hera had faced heavy losses as well, though it astounded him to think that the attack on their home that had forced them on the run had been only slightly more than two months ago now.

Thinking of the family he had lost as he looked over these peaceful lands sent a cold lance of sadness through his gut, as well as, to his surprise, fear. He was not angry with the Empire, he realized.

He was terrified of it.

So far, everything he had done to keep himself and his sister alive had been out of sheer necessity. Valen just wanted them to escape the Emperor’s reach so that they could live their lives, but… was that all that he should feel? A fear pushing him onwards, ever onwards to the next chance at 'safety?' Looking around at everyone else, seeing the anger and regret that had etched their way across the faces of almost every other member of the party, he wondered if he should not be feeling that same anger.

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It could not be that… that fear was the thing holding him back? The thought was unpleasant, and he shoved it into the back of his mind to consider another time. Hedrick had finished his explanation just in time, as they were now approaching the edge of the actual town, where most of the buildings were made up of a light gray stone and thatched rooftops.

People noticed the strangers now, of course. Crove might be a fairly large town, but it was also very secluded and they did not look like descendants of the Eastocs in the slightest. The stares followed them as they began making their way through the town, on the lookout for an inn or some other place they might be able to stay.

Second Ranger Bardus had assured them that, even if word had reached the people here of the ‘terrorists’ wanted by the Empire, the men and women who called Crove their home would not care. After Hedrick’s explanation, it made sense. These Eastocs would likely ignore almost any information on Imperial criminals that came their way, if it meant sticking it to their rulers.

Valen found that liked that mentality, and despite the distrusting stares of the townsfolk he began to smile at anyone they passed.

Soon enough, Bardus brought them to a halt in front of a squat, but very long one story building, with a sign hanging out front that had a boat carrying a giant mug painted on it. There was a long fence outside for hitching their horses as well, and when the Second Ranger hopped down from the saddle and secured his reins to it the others followed suit.

Valen glanced at Hedrick as his cloak fluttered in the wind; after their escape from Trinity, he had gone to apologize the first night for losing the ranger’s cloak in his escape. Hedrick, however, had simply smiled and pulled another identical cloak from his saddlebags, much to his surprise. It had almost been comical. Now, though, he realized it had simply been smart planning.

A good cloak served a number of purposes when one travelled as far as they had. It was something Valen had come to learn over the many weeks he had now spent on the road and he was grateful to still have one for himself. It was the other, dark green one that had been gifted to their party when they left the Iron Watch camp, but it was just as warm and, should the occasion call for it, concealing as the rangers’.

Which was why he was so confused when Bardus and the others removed their cloaks now, revealing the leather armor and dark clothing beneath for all to see. For the first time, Valen noticed something else. On each of their arms, right on the inside of their elbow at the base of their forearms, was a scar that Valen had not noticed before.

He squinted and took a step closer to Layne, who was the closest to him at the moment, trying to get a better look at the scar. When he was able to see it he realized with a start that it was the symbol of the Iron Watch, literally cut into their flesh. Thinking about how painful that must have been sent shivers running down his spine and he tried to tear his focus away from the scarring. Luckily, it was at that moment that the doors into the building they had stopped at swung open and the hairiest man that Valen had ever seen stepped out.

His hair fell halfway down his back, long, black and coarse, and his beard ran a similar length down his front side as well. His arms, revealed in a dirty white shirt with no sleeves, were incredibly muscular and covered in dark hair as well, the same color as the thick chest hair that poked out over the top of his shirt. Not to mention, he stood almost as tall as Valen remembered High Lord Velitarii himself to be, which was shocking all on its own.

“Now, wha’ do ye all think yer doin’?!” the man shouted as he stomped out, but then he looked down at those he was shouting at and his eyes went wide in surprise.

“Bardus? By th' Forger, wha' are ye doin’ here?!” he exclaimed, looking at a complete loss to be seeing the Second Ranger. Valen and the other non-rangers were confused, of course. Who was this guy, and why did he know Bardus?

“We’re looking to stay for a night, Ylrick. We’re headed across the Drake’s Tail, but we needed to stop here for a short time to resupply before we move on. You remember the dangers of that journey, do you not?” Bardus replied. The man, whose name was apparently Ylrick, gave the Second Ranger a dumbfounded nod before shrugging.

“Ye know tha’ I do, daft bastard, ye know. I jus’ thought tha’ ye were… well… ye were no’ due back for some time, y’know? Jus’ a surprise is all,” the man told him. He almost sounded offended.

“Good. Then here,” the Second Ranger cut in, before Ylrick could say anything more. As he spoke, he reached into a pouch on his saddle and pulled something out that he flicked through the air to the other man, who caught it deftly despite not having been prepared, as far as Valen could tell, for the sudden toss. The man glanced at what had been given to him as Valen craned his neck to see as well. It looked to be a coin of some kind, though Valen could not see either of its faces. Ylrick groaned as he examined it.

“Aye, but yer hard ones t’ understand. Me mead an’ me hearth are yer own, Bardus. May th’ iron stay strong,” Ylrick finally said, after pocketing the coin and giving the rangers a nod.

“May the iron stay strong,” Bardus replied. At that, each of the rangers bent their right arms across their chest, turning them so that the scars shown forward as their other arm went behind their backs while they stood at attention. A moment later the rangers relaxed, slipping their cloaks back on. That was when Ylrick turned his attention to Valen, Hera, Simon and Samuel, eying them curiously.

“I would try t’ ask about th’ kids,” Ylrick began, gesturing in their direction before shrugging and turning around to head back inside, “bu’ I’m sure tha’ whatever ye told me would jus’ be a lie. C’mon inside, then, an’ tell me wha’ ye need.”

Just like that, the strange man was through the doors, back inside his establishment. The rangers shuffled inside, all save Samorr, who stood in the back waiting for Valen and his companions to enter as well. Valen glanced at the others, not sure what to make of the whole situation.

“Oh, just go in already,” Hera sighed, before stepping past her brother and doing as she had suggested. Samuel smirked and followed her in, just shrugging as he passed Valen. Simon rolled his eyes at their apparent ease with this, but then went in as well, leaving just Valen and Samorr standing outside.

“Ylrick may be a bit odd, but he’s definitely trustworthy,” Samorr told him, once more looking amused by the whole exchange. Whatever dark anger had been in his eyes earlier was gone now, replaced by his usual unaffable ease. It made Valen feel better, so he shrugged off whatever the weirdness was that he had been feeling and stepped into the building.