Chapter 3

It was early in the afternoon when Varen woke again.

The roads were no longer quiet like when they had first left the capital, with scores of carriages, wagons and people on foot travelling alongside them in both directions. A few guards were patrolling the roads as well, though their role was mainly ceremonial, a show to raise the general populace's confidence in the Kingdom's military. The guards only patrolled the frequently used roads within the Kingdom, whereas the real dangers that travellers faced were on the side roads, where feral beasts and bandits roamed. It was for that reason that those who could afford it hired mercenaries to protect them on their travels.

Varen stretched his arms and legs, letting out a small moan of contentment as he felt his knee and elbow joints crack and pop. Sleeping in a seated position wasn't all that comfortable, but it had been a long while since he'd had the chance to sleep in, in a loose sense of the phrase. Even on weekends he was unable to languish in bed, since Eden's inn was even busier then.

"You're finally awake!" Caelie piped up from opposite him. She was still lying down on her seat, her hands pressed together on her stomach as she made patterns with her fingers.

"Yeah, any idea where we are now?" Varen answered. A look to his left revealed that Kleven was asleep, with his brows furrowed and arms folded across his chest.

"Absolutely no idea," she grinned. "We did pass through a town a while back, I think. I took a peek when I woke up and saw it in the distance behind us."

"Hmm…" hummed Varen. He reached into his bag beside him and fished around, pulling out a folded and slightly crumpled map. "That might have been the town of Axminnar, if it's the first one we've passed." He couldn't tell for sure, since neither of them had been awake to see if their ride had cut across other landmarks.

"How far is that from Lakenside?"

"Very."

Caelie let out an audible groan, "I'm gonna die of boredom before we come anywhere close! If my limbs don't atrophy before that…"

"I'm sure the horses need rest, so we'll get the chance to walk around when we stop for the night," Varen said, hopeful that he would get to escape his seat later. There really wasn't much space for maneuverability in the coach's tight confines.

"Oh right, the horses! Did you notice that we're on a driverless carriage? It's so cool," Caelie gushed, sitting up and pushing open the front carriage flap to reveal the horses moving in tandem.

"Yes, you were asleep when Kleven and I were trying to figure out how to work the horses," chuckled Varen, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden invasion of sunlight into the coach. A cool breeze bristled in through the opening, and he was glad that he'd kept his scarf and gloves on.

Several minutes passed before Caelie spoke again, "This is unbelievably boring."

"It really is," replied Varen in agreement. He could feel her staring right at him, and he averted his gaze slightly. Predictably, she started to grow restless as he pretended not to notice her, and he fought back a growing smile.

The dam finally broke after another few minutes of silence, and she blurted out, "Do you have anything to pass the time with, Varen?"

"I've got a few books—"

"What kind of books are they?"

"Academical," shrugged Varen. He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out the few publications in his possession. "Magical Theory for Beginners, The Founding of the Ivolas Kingdom, The Unknown Territories…"

Caelie's nose scrunched up further with every title he rattled off. "I can't believe you still keep those. We studied those so extensively during our time in the Academy… even sitting as we are in silence is less boring than reading through their contents for the hundredth time!"

"Oh? Is that so?" Varen smirked. Flipping open the first page of The Founding of the Ivolas Kingdom, he drew in a breath and began to read aloud, "The founding of our Kingdom was tumultuous and hard-won, not only on the field of battle, but also through the dominion of knowledge—"

She grabbed the tome before he could finish the sentence, closing it shut and clutching it tightly to her chest. Glaring at him, she said, "You're not getting it back unless you promise not to do that again!"

"Yes, yes, I promise," laughed Varen, and the book was returned to him begrudgingly. "What do you have in mind then? Since you're so bored."

The blonde girl's eyes focused in thought for several moments. "Oh, how about a game? Where we take turns to ask each other whatever we want?"

"Sounds like a ploy to get to know more about my past," Varen pointed out, bemused.

A look of melancholy crossed her features, and Caelie whispered just loud enough for Varen to hear, "I could tell you about ours as well…"

Varen found himself unable to hide his surprise at her reaction as he stared at her, but it was Caelie's turn to avoid eye contact, her blue eyes fixed on the floor of the carriage. He'd meant to subtly deflect her intentions jokingly, but he had expected her to pout and grumble like she did usually.

"Are you… sure? What about Kleven?" Varen asked tentatively after a moment's pause, shifting to glance at the sleeping blond. "Will he be okay with that?"

"I… I don't know, we've never told anyone of our background before… But, Kleven's too protective of me, and I want to make a decision myself, for once," Caelie admitted with a sigh, her shoulders slumped. "It's just, I thought it would be good for us to swap stories, to let it out to a friend who understands. When the Head Majstor brought your family up, your reaction was just like ours when someone brings up our family, and it struck a chord with me. I'm sorry if I've been annoying about it…"

Varen stayed silent as he thought on what she'd said. He recalled their interaction with the Head Majstor – had his reaction really been that obvious? Well-meaning strangers and acquaintances at work, the inn and the Academy had asked about his family over the years. Even Eden had when they first met, and Varen liked to think that he'd learnt to put on a strong face. His heart sank at the realisation that he might not have been that subtle about how much the subject still disarmed him.

"Varen?" Caelie asked nervously, and it seemed like she'd been saying something.

"Sorry… I just spaced out there for a second," Varen smiled wearily at her. "What were you saying?"

"If you don't feel up to it then I'll stop," she repeated, twiddling her fingers together. "Honestly, I don't even know if I'm up to sharing our past myself now. It was all just a selfish idea to begin with."

Varen shook his head. He took a quick look at the still asleep Kleven, reminded of the conversation he'd had with the blonde earlier that morning. "No, I think you're right… Perhaps it would be better for us to share our stories with one another. After all, we're… friends, and friends support each other, right?"

He hesitated slightly as he spoke the last sentence, and was relieved to see Caelie's eyes light up. "That's right! What else are friends for?" she said, her voice slowly returning to its usual bubbliness. Her mouth opened to speak again, but she was quickly interrupted by a low growl emanating from her stomach.

The abrupt sound shattered the serious tone of their conversation, and Varen couldn't help but burst out into uproarious laughter.

"I'll see what we have to eat," Varen said between mirthful breaths as Caelie's tanned cheeks reddened, "while you wake Kleven up so we can talk, alright?"

xxxxx

Varen nibbled on the piece of dried meat, which was all they were going to be having until they reached Lakenside. It wasn't much, but then again he was used to eating small meals in the first place. Not to mention the fact that he had no complaints about the taste.

"So… how do we go about this?" Caelie asked, having already devoured her share of the meat and washing it down with some water. She looked between her two male companions, nervous about the upcoming topic of conversation.

Her twin shrugged, "It was your idea, sis." It hadn't taken much to convince him, especially once Caelie mentioned that she was fine with doing all the talking. "Like I said, I'm fine with sharing our story with Varen, but you started it."

"Let me start it off then," Varen coughed, adding under his breath, "before I chicken out of it…" The twins focused their attention on him, and he took a deep breath. "H-have you guys heard of the Crowen family?"

They nodded, and Kleven asked, "The family of lesser nobles?"

"Exactly that, but don't let them hear you say it," chuckled Varen, unable to agree more with Kleven's apt description. "When I was ten, my mother passed away due to an illness. Although we lived all our lives in the capital where the best doctors are, we were poor then, and my father couldn't afford the treatment. After my mother died, he became a changed man. Somehow or rather, he ended up getting married just months after the funeral to the heiress of the Crowen family, who had been recently widowed as well."

He paused and found that the twins were listening with rapt attention. "And you know how nobles are, always obsessed with something. The Crowen family's only claim to fame was that they produced a powerful mage in every generation, which they already had. My older step-brother by five years, Draeon Crowen. Have you heard of him? His initiation ceremony into the Majstoria was quite a grand affair."

"No," Caelie chuckled softly, "we weren't anywhere near the capital at that point in time, but that can wait till you finish."

Varen smiled at her. "Well, the word to describe Draeon would be genius. At sixteen, he was the best mage in his cohort at the Academy. A few months after the marriage, one of the Crowen elders sensed some latent magic in me. So, eager to raise the family's prestige, the elders hired mages to train me. They wanted another prodigy, even if I wasn't related by blood, and after months of training, they tested me. Being a mage sounded like a fun idea, and the time I spent on it allowed me to channel my grief elsewhere. It didn't go very well, however – all I am capable of is this."

The words appeared in his mind, and Varen chanted the incantation, willing the small flame into existence.

Kleven raised an eyebrow at the sight, his reaction more subdued than his sister's wide-eyed staring. "An affinity to fire, eh? The most common manifestation of one's magic, but still impressive nonetheless. Most people don't even have the ability to use magic, remember?"

"I know, Kleven, but this smidgen of power is basically useless. All I can do is light a torch, candle or lamp. It's worse that I'm limited to a single element too. Most mages are able to invoke multiple other forms of magic at the basic level at the very least – nothing else responds to me, however," Varen laughed deprecatingly, the sound slightly bitter. "The Crowens' started treating me like I didn't exist after that. Well, I say that, but there wasn't really much interaction before, anyway. What hurt more was the fact that my father acted the exact same way as the family did."

"Take your time, Varen," Kleven said, clapping a hand onto his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.

Varen gave the blond a thankful nod, his nose flaring as he took deep breaths. His heart was beating rapidly as old emotions were dragged up to the surface, and he swallowed before continuing, "Two years later, when I was twelve, Draeon had already risen to gain a place in the Majstoria. He went missing on his third month after his official debut. I must admit, I felt a twinge of happiness when I heard the news, and I've never lost any sleep over that. The family took it harder than I did, of course, and my step-mother banished me from the clan for being a disgrace, while my father looked on in disdain."

The last sentence came out in a deep growl. Varen blinked, shocked at the sound he'd made, and found that his eyes were wet. A tear streamed down his cheek, and he wiped it dry with the sleeve of his robe. "And here I thought I'd gotten over it," he mumbled. How long had it been since he last cried? Years, if his memory served. He'd cried in his father's arms when his mother left the world, and he'd cried alone in an alleyway during the winter when he'd been disowned, huddled in his own arms for warmth.

That was the very last time he'd shed tears. When Eden found him, he was simply too exhausted and too numb to cry any more, his tears frozen to his grimy face. The memory returned with a vengeance, and he choked back a sob as his eyes welled up again.

A small whimper came from the seat across him, drawing Varen from his not-so-pleasant recollection. He froze when he realised someone was stroking his back, only relaxing when he saw that it was Kleven that was doing so. Caelie was clutching his left hand, soft whimpers escaping her lips as she did her best to hold back tears. The physical contact with the twins helped calm him down, and Varen said with a sniffle and a wry smile, "There's a happy ending to my story. An inn owner in the city, Eden, found me and took me in. She clothed me, fed me, and paid for my education. I did my best in the Academy and managed to scrape by with a scholarship, and here we are now. I owe her everything."

He paused for a moment, sniffling again. "If… no, when we get back, Eden wants to meet you guys. I think you two will love her, her apple pies are delicious!"

"It would be our pleasure," Kleven replied in place of his sister, who was still indisposed.

Varen nodded, subconsciously leaning toward Kleven, who was still stroking and patting his back like a parent would when their child cried. It reminded him terribly of his mother, and a warmth in his chest grew as his tears dried up. They were good memories.

Caelie too had calmed herself, though her hand was still tightly attached to his. She gave him a deep look of understanding, and he smiled warmly back at her. Now that his past was revealed, Varen was eager to hear the twins' background too, and he urged with a cheeky grin, "Come on, we've stopped crying, so now it's your turn to tell your story."

The petite blonde wiped her now red eyes and looked to her brother, who gave her a nod, and she began, "Well, our father was a career criminal, and our mother was a drunkard. We grew up in the town of Mirnas…"

"The bandit town?" That came as a surprise to Varen, but now he understood why Kleven mentioned that they'd had a rough upbringing.

"Mhm. It was called the bandit town, as you know, because it was the centre of all crime for miles around, and our father ruled it with an iron fist. I say our mother was a drunkard, but we've never actually met her. Everything we know of her was from what our father told us."

She paused for a second, and Varen realised that Kleven had stopped his previous action. The male twin had his hands steepled together with his elbows resting on his knees, and Varen noticed that his brows were furrowed above closed eyes. For some reason, Varen felt it only natural to return the favor. Reaching over, he rested an open palm on Kleven's back.

Caelie continued, a slight tremor in her voice, "Well, I'm sure you know what happened to the town. Eventually the military was sent in to subdue our father. The battle was messy, and there were quite a few civilian casualties, some of them from the hostages that our father's men had taken. When it was over, we were left behind by ourselves in Mirnas. We were twelve years old then as well, actually. The people… weren't exactly pleased to have us around, as you might expect, and without our father's presence to shield us, they began to harass us every day."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"Kleven," she reached over with her free hand to squeeze her brother's arms, eliciting no response, "protected me every single time. They would throw garbage at us, and rough us up occasionally…"

"They were cowards," Varen half-spat, surprised at his sudden anger.

"They were," Kleven said coldly, his eyes still shut, and Caelie nodded weakly.

"We survived that way for over a year. One day, one of our father's lieutenants found us. He told us that our father had been sentenced to life imprisonment in the lowest levels of the palace dungeons, never to see the light of day again. He also told us that our father had apparently managed to leave us some money, more than enough for us to live our lives with. It was kept in a bank two towns over, but before the lieutenant could escort us out of Mirnas, the people found out that he was one of our father's men. They… they lynched him, and we managed to escape while the people were distracted."

Her fingers clenched around Varen's hand, and she exhaled slowly. "Long story short, we're pretty well off now."

Both brother and sister visibly relaxed as the latter finished their story. "So, what do you think, Varen?" Caelie asked, her voice hopeful.

"Your story's got a much better ending than mine," joked Varen in a bid to ease everyone's feeling after such a heartfelt session. It was successful, and Caelie grinned widely, playfully smacking him on the arm. Kleven smiled too, bringing his hand back onto Varen's shoulder, and the two boys held each other in a half hug.

"In all seriousness, I think we made the right choice, letting it out to one another," Varen went on sincerely. "It was… cathartic, and I think the three of us needed it. I definitely needed it. Thank you. I'm extremely glad that the two of you are with me on this journey, and if the world is to end, then I'd be happy to finish it by your sides."

Caelie beamed radiantly, and she jumped up to pull her companions in for a group embrace. "What else are friends for, right?"

xxxxx

The three Junior Archivists approached a roadside camp as the sky's light began to fade. Varen was right about the horses needing to rest and eat, even if they were magically enhanced animals. They just needed less of it, according to Kleven, which was why they were so highly prized. So as the roads slowly emptied out with travellers reaching their destinations or simply stopping for the day, their party of three decided to do the same.

"Greetings!" a stocky man with a shock of grey hair called out as they disembarked from the coach. He was seated by a campfire, and his eyes flitted over their similarly grey coloured attire as they came closer. A moment passed, and he exclaimed with a welcoming grin. "Oh! You're Archivists! Come, come, warm yourselves by the fire, make yourselves at home!"

"Good evening, sir," Varen greeted with a bow. "We're just Junior Archivists, actually," he corrected the man sheepishly, taking a seat on the grassy earth before the fire, with the twins following suit. He glanced round the camp and found it was sparse. In fact, there didn't seem to be anyone else, save for another man leaning on the one carriage nearby with a spear in hand.

"All the same, young man. You do the Kingdom's work, and that's plenty enough. The other two Kingdoms would think nothing of us, if not for our Archives," the man said, his pride in their work apparent. "Where are my manners? Name's Dorian, humble weaponsmith, and that's my hired man Arden over there."

"I'm Varen, and my companions are Kleven and Caelie."

"Well met! Have you youngins eaten?" Dorian asked, gesturing to the small pot that hung over the campfire.

"Does dried meat count?" uttered Kleven, and Dorian recoiled in mock horror.

"It certainly does not!" the older man boomed. Standing, he said, "Give me just one moment."

Marching over to his own carriage, Dorian retrieved a wooden box. He set it down in front of the three of them, before hoisting the pot off the the fire and setting it onto the surface of the box. Producing three wooden spoons, he passed them over to the younger Archivists.

"Here, it's some stew I made just now. I was keeping it warm just in case any travellers such as yourselves came by," he grinned, setting his hands onto his hips. "Arden and I have had our share, so feel free to finish the rest of it."

"Thank you, sir," Varen said politely as he scooped up a spoonful of the stew and waited for it to cool. "We were really dreading the idea of having nothing but dried meat the entire way."

He certainly hadn't minded the meat at first, but it just hadn't felt as filling after their emotional sharing session. Caelie certainly shared his sentiment, seeing how she was staring ravenously at the meal before her as she impatiently allowed it to cool as well.

"Anytime. And just feel free to call me by name, 'sir' is much too formal for me. Just makes me feel old," Dorian chuckled. He took a seat and watched them eat for a few moments, before asking, "So where are you youngins headed? Dig site?"

"Yes, south into the Unknown Territories. It's our first time out," Kleven said in between mouthfuls.

"Oh? Without guards?" the weaponsmith questioned, a frown settling onto his face.

"Oh no, we're actually on our way to Lakenside for the moment, with instructions to meet with the town's Chief. He's supposed to have a mercenary group prepared for us there," Varen clarified swiftly. He idly fingered the letter in his pocket, recalling the Head Majstor's orders within. They'd only opened the letter prior to their stopping at the campsite, so its contents were still fresh in his mind.

"And here I was wondering what your superiors were doing, sending you youngins out into the field, unescorted, with nothing but dried meat as sustenance," Dorian tutted, heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"They work us hard, but I don't think they're that cruel," Varen said jokingly, eliciting a laugh from the group.

"What about you, Mr Dorian? Where are you headed?" Caelie asked, a satisfied look upon her face, having finished her only proper meal of the day.

"Why, lassie, I'm headed up north myself to deliver my cache of weapons. The northmen have been amassing weapons recently – especially firearms – probably for another mass culling of the northern Vaettir population. It's a long journey, but it pays well enough for me to retire."

"You make guns too? You're sanctioned then?" Varen noted.

Firearms were a relatively new invention in the past two decades, and they had been dubbed 'the everyman's firestave'. They took considerably less training than bows to use, and once mastered, had the killing power of a mid-tier mage. To prevent the technology from overshadowing mages in battle, the Council had banned the smithing of firearms unless one paid an extravagant cost for a license.

"Aye, the license ate a huge hole in my coin pouch, but it was worth it. Took but two years for that investment to come round," Dorian remarked. "Want to see my work? I've got the latest designs."

The three of them nodded, and Dorian retreated to his carriage once again. After a few minutes, he returned with a firearm in hand. The gun was nearly as tall as Caelie in length, with a beautiful flowing pattern carved along its length, and the older man flushed with pride as he held it before them.

"This is a flintlock rifle. Grooves have been carved into the barrel interior, which allows it to shoot further, and more accurately. Still hits just as hard as a normal musket though, enough to penetrate plate armour if the target is within range."

"That's… impressive," said Varen, and Kleven echoed the thought.

"A line of these firing in turn could probably decimate bigger Vaettir, not to mention men. If only the Council wasn't so restrictive with them, I imagine our lands would be much safer if these were more easily available."

"If only," Dorian agreed with a sigh. "It would be nice if the Council got their fucking heads out of their arses and looked at the bigger picture." He quickly tacked on, "Pardon my language."

"It's alright," Caelie giggled at this sudden swearing. "We're all adults here."

"You three are barely half my age," the older weaponsmith guffawed, the corners of his mouth curling up in a sly smile. "Allow an old man some sense of decorum."

A loud howl echoed in the distance before they could continue their conversation, and Varen immediately sat up straight, his hairs standing on end. Dorian turned to his guard and asked, "Arden?"

The spear wielding mercenary simply grunted and calmed them with a wave of his hand. "Feral wolves. We'll be fine, they won't come any closer to the roads."

"Well then," Dorian said. "It's getting late, and we should all get some rest. We've all got long journeys ahead of us."

"R-right, good night then," Varen stammered, his nerves still frayed from the wolves' sudden baying. Kleven clapped a hand on his back in reassurance as they made their way back to their own carriage.

"Don't worry bout a thing, Arden will be keeping watch all night," added Dorian, and the hired guard grunted again, thought it did little to diminish Varen's nervousness.

xxxxx

"Varen! Wake up!" Caelie hissed, jolting him awake.

A cursory glance out of the coach revealed that it was still dark out, and Varen rubbed his eyes nervously. Kleven was no longer beside him in the carriage, and he asked, "What's happening?"

"The wolves," she whispered hastily, "they're close."

"Didn't Dorian's man say that they wouldn't come near the roads?"

"Arden doesn't know either, he insists that he's never seen them act like this!"

"W-what do we do now?" gulped Varen as his heart started to pound in his ears.

"We have to get out and help," Caelie stressed, pulling him to his feet. "Move slow, we don't want to startle the beasts."

With anxious but purposefully unhurried motions, the two of them exited the carriage and made their way over to the campfire where the rest were gathered. Their whole area seemed to be surrounded by wolves, and Varen swallowed again, resisting the urge to panic.

Dorian raised a finger to his lips as he saw them approach, before feeding the fire with some dry branches. The flames crackled and rose higher, but the beasts were undeterred, still lingering in the shadows by the edge of the fire's light.

"I've never seen them behave so boldly, and in such large numbers," Arden muttered, his grip tightening visibly around the shaft of his spear. "When we get to the next town, old man, you're hiring more guards."

"No argument there," agreed Dorian. "But let's not worry about that now. Are you able to fend them off?"

"If you're fine with losing the horses and the cargo, as well as sustaining heavy injuries… maybe. A very big maybe."

"Right, not an option then," the weaponsmith said, turning to the three of them. "Can either of you fight?"

"I can," the twins replied simultaneously. Kleven glared at Caelie disapprovingly, and she quickly added on, "Though I'm better at patching people up…"

"Okay. Is a shortsword fine with you?" Dorian asked after momentarily studying Kleven's build. Kleven nodded, and the older man continued, "I'll get a dagger for the little lady as well, just in case. What about you, Varen?"

"I d-don't know how," Varen admitted, his gaze dancing around the shadows, shaking a little as he found feral wolves in every corner. It came as no surprise to him that the Trevek twins could fight, especially after hearing about their past, but he had no such strength, having grown up under relative safety in the capital all his life. The closest he'd ever been in a physical fight was when he'd been bullied for being poor, back when his family was still whole, and even then he had been too weak to retaliate.

"Hmm, no worries, I've got just the weapon for someone with absolutely no combat training. Wait here."

The weaponsmith stalked over to his carriage and returned promptly with a few items in hand. He handed a sheathed sword to Kleven, then passed a scabbardless straight bladed dagger to his twin. He then knelt and placed the remaining items on the ground – four leather vests, two intricately carved flintlock pistols, another dagger, a patterned flintlock rifle like the one he had showed them before, as well as a few small cloth sacks. It was a small armoury, and Varen could only wonder how many more weapons Dorian had in the back of his wagon.

"Put on the vests," Dorian instructed, swiftly putting his own on. A wolf took a step closer into the campfire's light, growling, and a few others did the same, inflamed by their kin's courage. Varen jumped slightly at the movement, suddenly too scared to breathe.

"It's okay, Varen, we're here," Caelie said softly, grabbing his hand, and Varen forced himself to take a deep breath. He concentrated on Kleven's broad back before him, the blond male facing away from them to keep an eye on the wolves, and it allowed him to regain his composure.

Kleven tilted his head to give Varen a stoic nod, while Dorian moved closer and placed a hand onto the latter's shoulder as well. "That's right, lad, you have to keep your wits about you in situations like this. Keep that in mind, it'll be like this at every moment when you're out in the Unknown. Come, I'll show you how to use the rifle."

Varen huffed as the sudden weight of the firearm was thrust into his arms – it wasn't that heavy, but he hadn't expected it to weigh as much as it did. The weaponsmith then placed three small sacks on the ground before him.

"First things first; ammunition, gunpowder, and firing paper," Dorian said, pointing out the contents of each pouch. "The three most important things you'll need. I've got about thirty shots for you in there. Now, to load it. I'll say it, you do it, alright? Pay attention, I don't think we'll have time for me to tell you this more than once."

"Half-cock the hammer," Dorian motioned for Varen to pull the mechanism on the gun halfway. He then gestured for Varen to hold the rifle perpendicular to the ground, with its butt on the floor. "Next, toss a pinch of gunpowder down into the barrel. With me so far?"

Varen nodded, listening intently to commit the steps to memory. The older man continued, "Good. Now, grab a lead ball and wrap it in a piece of firing paper. See the thin rod attached beneath the barrel? Pull it out. It's called a ram rod – use it to ram the bullet into the barrel. There's an indicator on the rod so you know how far you need to push the bullet in."

Grunting, Varen pushed down on the ram rod, his muscled burning from the effort. It felt like the paper wrapped-bullet barely fit inside the barrel, and it took him a few tries before it was deep enough within the firearm's interior.

Dorian nodded his approval. "It'll get easier with practice. Grab another pinch of gunpowder, and this time place it in the pan. It's that little bit right in front of the hammer. Then, snap the steel, the frizzen – it's above the pan – into place. Lastly, pull back the hammer all the way to fully cock it. That's it. What do you think?"

"It's logical, very much unlike magic," concluded Varen, gazing at the loaded weapon in his hands and running through the steps again. "For magic, you have to chant the words that appear in your consciousness, and the words can change from time to time, depending on your intent in the moment…"

"Aye. Magic's unpredictable with no defined steps, whereas loading this gun is as easy as repeating the same actions over and over. Anyone could—"

A spine shivering howl filled the night air before Dorian could finish, and the first wolf leapt forward into the campfire's light. Arden reacted immediately, skewering the beast upon his spear before it could attack, matting it's silver fur with blood.

"They're attacking! Caelie, stay back!" Kleven shouted, much to his sister's chagrin, throwing himself to the side as another wolf sprang off its hind legs towards him. He quickly recovered, whirling around to plant a kick on the wolf's muzzle as it pounced at him again, stumbling slightly from the action. The wolf whimpered from the strike and slunk back into the shadows.

"You okay?" Arden asked, and Kleven grunted in reply, "Just rusty."

More of the wolf pack crept forward, circling around them much more cautiously than their previous brethren. They eyed their preys' weapons warily, and Dorian snorted, "Hah, they're right to fear my steel!"

Reaching down, the weaponsmith picked up the extra dagger from the ground and handed it handle first to Varen. "Here, attached this to the front of the rifle. Much like mages, you'll be vulnerable while reloading, or in close combat. It'll help."

"Oh," Dorian quickly added, "to shoot, just hold the gun straight, rest the butt of the rifle against your shoulder and aim down the barrel."

"Right," Varen acknowledged, raising the firearm.

"Wait, wait. Spread your legs, shoulder width apart, left leg forward since you're right-handed. There, better. Remember to keep calm and regulate your breathing."

Varen made the adjustments and took aim again, his breath hitching slightly as he stared at the mass of wolves now crawling out of the night's shadows.

"Kleven! On your right!" Caelie shouted out from behind him, and Varen swiveled on the spot to see a silver blur sprinting toward his taller companion. Kleven reacted swiftly, stepping back, but another wolf pounced forward, and he was forced to switch his attention to the more immediate threat.

As the creature bore down upon Kleven, Varen steeled himself and pulled the trigger of his rifle. A deafening 'crack' sounded out, and he flinched slightly as his ears began to ring. He took a step back as his shoulder absorbed the weapon's recoil, coughing as the smell of burnt gunpowder invaded his nostrils. To his horror, the wolf was still moving, and Varen realised he'd missed. He watched helplessly as it neared Kleven and leapt off the ground with a snarl.

Dorian's pistols coughed before the wolf made contact, and it crumpled onto the ground next to Kleven's feet. The blonde called out his thanks, stabbing his sword into the other wild animal's head and twisting to face another that was moving in his direction, before the light in the first's eyes had faded.

"Don't worry, lad, it's only natural to miss," grinned the older man, kneeling and already in the process of reloading his pistols. "You've still got twenty nine shots, let's make them count."

Nodding, Varen followed suit and began reloading his rifle as swiftly as he could. He rose once he was done, just in time to see Arden impale one of the silver-furred beasts that was nipping at Kleven's heels. Dorian's pistols barked once again by his side, and two wolves collapsed with strangled yelps. Holding his breath, Varen took aim and squeezed the trigger. His eyes widened as a wolf at the edge of the pack crashed into the dirt, a victim of his bullet.

Well, that was something… It wasn't the one Varen had been aiming for, but he supposed he couldn't argue with the results. He knelt again and started to reload, nearly fumbling from the excitement of his first successful shot. It was definitely much more exhilarating than sitting behind a desk all day, even taking into account the risk of them not surviving the night.

Steel flashed and blood flew as they fought for what seemed like hours, and Arden and Kleven were starting to look the worse for wear. Kleven especially, the lesser skilled of the two, had received the short end of the stick. His robes were torn, and numerous scratches adorned his arms and legs, though thankfully none too deep. Even Caelie had not gone uninjured, sporting a bite mark from when she'd crept forward to finish off a few limping wolves with her dagger.

"It's like the whole fucking wolf population's shown up tonight," Arden cursed through ragged breaths. He leant on his spear as the beasts granted him a second's reprieve, before spinning around and slapping one away with the butt of his spear as it dashed forward.

The entire area smelt of gunpowder as Dorian and Varen took shot after shot. Another pair of the pack fell prey to the weaponsmith's pistols, and he yelled out, "You know what, if we survive this night, the three of you can keep the weapons! Varen! How many more bullets do you have left?"

"Five!" came his reply as a 'crack' rang out. "Damn it, another miss! Four left!"

Varen's hands moved unerringly as he poured another pinch of gunpowder down the rifle's barrel. He grabbed a bullet with his fingers, but quickly dropped it back into the pouch as a scream filled the air.

"Caelie!" Kleven bellowed, turning in her direction. His twin was sprawled out on the ground, a monstrous wolf atop her. Her knife was on the ground as well, just out of her reach. He started towards her, but another one of the beasts took advantage of the distraction and slammed into him, throwing him to the ground.

With a guttural cry, Varen charged toward the creature, his bayoneted rifle held out before him. The blade pierced deep into its side, and the wolf yelped as Varen followed through, using his momentum to push its dense weight off Caelie.

"You alright—"

The words had barely left Varen's mouth when a savage snarl came from his left. A large force crashed into his side and he gasped as he was sent flying. His head slammed against the ground, blurring his vision, and the last thing he saw was an arrow piercing his attacker's hide before blackness overtook him.