It all began after he was forced out of the ferry by the pointed tip of an arrow, and fell straight down the unforgiving waters of the Onohill River. The experience was excruciating, as his body had already failed him to the point where he could not even move. He faded in and out of consciousness and along the way, the lodged arrow broke because of the sheer force of the raging stream. Since then, the past few days and nights have been nothing but an entire blur for Hawk.
The last thing he remembered was briefly waking up on the riverbanks of an unknown place. He heard shouting from a distance and immediately drifted to sleep as he was being carried off. Waking up, he was being tended to by a girl with blonde hair in an unknown, yet comfortable place.
Hawk wanted to ask a few things, but the girl strongly advised against speaking, saying he needed to focus on regaining his strength. Hawk was adamant at first, but after seeing the girl's sincerity through her demeanor, he respected her request by thanking her and opted to remain silent.
After asking for information from the locals and hunters, he found out that he was at The Whiteflower; it was where he and his company originally planned to hide before things all went to shit. Hawk knew that Gillsberry was still located in enemy lands, therefore he decided to lay low until Xhiamas and the rest would arrive. It was also the perfect opportunity to give himself time to recover. He was feeling better than he was a few days prior, but the effects of the arrow wound on his shoulder still lingered.
Hawk rose from a quiet nap, feeling well-rested. He went down and wanted to ask for a mug of water and bread but noticed a bit of a commotion in the innkeeper's room. Peeking inside to observe, he saw that the man was now terribly ill, lying in his bed surrounded by others.
After the gloomy scene, he asked for his midday rations, which he paid for in labor by helping the local people with their daily tasks. In doing so, he overheard a conversation that the girl who had nursed him had set off toward Rosetown to help buy things that could help with the old man's ailments, despite the things that had happened. It made him smile knowing that there was still kindness, bravery, and innocence in the world, however, an uneasy feeling lingered in his stomach.
Noon had arrived and the girl returned, bringing what appeared to be Damali flowers--medicinal plants. Not long after, she was called back home which made Hawk realize that the girl belonged to a lower House.
To kill time and to say thank you for the hospitality, Hawk volunteered to help by cooking food for the inn whenever the cook was overwhelmed by the number of people who went in and out of the inn. For him, it was both a sincere gesture and a tactical move, one that could help earn the trust of the people.
Hawk glanced out the window and noticed that a number of the hunters were beginning to set out to the fields of House Huntingborne.
"Where are they off to?" He asked the bard who was playing notes on his simple wooden lyre while seated near the fireplace.
"Oh, they're off participating in the traditional hunt. I will be here to record their triumphs and sorrows. After this festival ends, I will carry with me songs that will be remembered for generations to come." The bard replied.
"I see, then why aren't you there with them?" Hawk asked him.
"I...uh...I prefer to stay here, indoors where it is safe for harmless folk like me. Also, they say that the real monsters have yet to come. These hunters support my great dream, and have pledged to tell their tales before I depart from this place." He replied while continuing to play random notes on his instrument, thinking of a new melody or two to pass the time while Hawk silently groaned at the bard's delusions of grandeur.
It was quiet throughout the afternoon and the night. The hunters and other locals returned from the hunt by this point, wet from the sudden downpour of rain, and fell into a deep slumber. Hawk spent his time watching over the old man in his chambers, but he too, fell asleep from exhaustion.
A day had passed, and the hunters gathered in the halls of the inn, preparing themselves for breakfast. Suddenly a villager entered, seemingly terrified as he acted hysterical, like a rabid animal left uncaged.
"Woah, calm down!" A hunter grabbed him by the shoulder, which snapped the local back to his senses, albeit only for a short while. This caught the attention of everyone.
"R-R-Rosetown..." The villager muttered to himself repeatedly.
"What about it?" Hawk asked, seemingly curious.
"The whole city is gone. House Polifio, buildings, women, children--the ancestral castle itself! Gone!"
Panic slowly spread amongst the rest of the people inside the inn. This made the innkeeper, who was now healthy as a horse and was wearing armor, to step in and control the chaos.
"All of you shut it!" He shouted.
His aggressive voice echoed throughout the inn, and the hall immediately fell silent. Most of them, even the hunters, were shocked at the old man's change in demeanor, while his peers merely chuckled as if they recalled a memory of when they were still young.
"If this lad is telling the truth, then there's no use panicking--now calm down," He handed a mug of water for the man to drink. "Where'd you hear this tale from?" The old man asked.
"I saw it with my very eyes, Petyr. I embarked on the Tulip Road and I smelled smoke in the distance. Curious, I decided to look into it. Not long after, I could not believe what I saw. Rosetown was gone--not a single soul, nor mortar brick, was left standing." The villager responded, still shaken.
Hawk could see the truth in his eyes, but had difficulty believing it himself.
"Well then, this is no laughing matter," Petyr said with concern. "Send word to the Lady Tryst of House Huntingborne. Tell her that the message came from me. She'll handle it from there."
He paced the room, thinking of what to do next. He then turned to the crowd after reaching a decision.
"All of you, get some well-deserved rest. The hunt will be put on hold until we get a bloody idea of what's happening. Am I understood?" Petyr commanded. Everyone coherently agreed to the order without hesitation except for a few people, who were taken aback by the turn of events.
"Is this a joke? You don't get to order me around, old man." A young, hot-headed, foreign male seated next to Hawk stood up and spoke, gaining attention. "Who in the world are you to say the hunt is suspended? You're just the innkeeper."
"Watch your tone, boy," Hawk grumbled and grabbed the rambling idiot by the shoulder. "Be mindful of where you're standing."
"Get your fucking hands off me."
The arrogant male shrugged Hawk's hand off his shoulder and stared at Petyr, who looked back at him blankly. He approached the innkeeper and started pushing him, goading him into a fight. This left a bad taste in the mouths of the other hunters present, who immediately grabbed hold of their weapons, but Petyr was unmoved.
"Calm yourself, lad," Petyr responded as the man continued to taunt and push him back. "I think you need time to cool off. Coraline--kindly escort our guest outside and give him something to drink." The blonde girl who tended to Hawk appeared out of the crowd, carrying a mug of ale.
"Please follow me, good sir." Coraline approached the man as she softly held his arm and gestured for him to head toward the door.
The arrogant fool suddenly knocked the mug out of the girl's hand, dousing her dress, and then spat on the floor, catching Coraline and the others off-guard.
"Now hold on--first, a weak old man who is out of touch with the world and is clearly over his head starts barking orders," He pointed at Petyr who stared at him with his deep brown eyes, and then shifted to Coraline who was being attended to by the hunters.
"And now, a bitch like her walks around and acts as if I'm some mutt on a leash who follows as he's told? I would rather die first than be told what to do!" He shouted.
Hawk and everyone in the inn was getting pissed at the bastard. As much as he wanted to knock some sense into him, he laid low lest he risk gathering attention to himself. The hot-headed man drew his blade, which made the other hunters draw their weapons in response.
"We are hunters! Hunters are supposed to run wild and free! What use is there in allowing ourselves to be shackled to these useless chains of commands and law-"
The man gagged and was never able to finish what he wanted to say, for the timid innkeeper had already cut his throat with a bloodied metal dagger.
"You talk too much," Petyr said as blood gushed out of the man's throat before his body dropped to the wooden floor. He looked at the innkeeper with fear as his eyes pleaded for help.
"You're not from here, but in Primera, we have laws. They are what makes this kingdom. The rest of you would do well to remember that." He stared into the eyes of every person in the room, sending a message that Hawk could feel deep down in his soul.
Petyr looked at the man who was inching closer to Death's door. The bastard grabbed hold of his leg, desperately begging for mercy, but the innkeeper merely glared at him in response.
"Disrespecting the owner of the establishment was one thing, and I let you off easy, but insulting a respected member of a House, not to mention the sweetest person that everyone around these parts knows--now that is something I cannot let slide, boy. You lived as a hunter, but now you die as an animal."
Plunging his dagger into the man's forehead put an end to his misery. The sight was gruesome for others to stomach as even the bard found himself vomiting after witnessing the execution.
"Someone clean up this mess. Drag his body out to the fields for the beasts to eat. I'll not honor this pest with a proper burial."
Petyr approached Coraline and asked the girl if she was okay. A few others went on to clean the blood-stained floor and carry the dead body away, while Hawk was left speechless at what he saw. The old man's reflexes were unearthly--it was too fast for a normal person to have seen. It was as if he was looking at an older version of Xhiamas.
Such precision and speed, Hawk thought to himself. The old man's reflexes, accompanied by the preceding events made him even more wary of the people surrounding him. One wrong move, and he would wind up dead like the person before him. He stared outside the window in silence and up toward the night sky as the dead body was unceremoniously dragged by force through the mud and toward the unforgiving fields.
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The rest of the day went by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it, it was already the early hours of the next morning. The stars were still out, and the sun had yet to rise. Hawk managed to get a good amount of sleep before heading outside to practice his archery skills. It had been a while since he had seen combat, and he needed to be in fighting condition.
"Seven hells... it still hurts. I hope whoever shot me down had a good laugh because I'll be giving him more than a bloody shot to the shoulder." Hawk muttered as he swung his arm around and stretched. He borrowed a simple bow from one of the hunters, and arrows for a few rounds of practice to return himself to fighting form.
Suddenly, he felt that he was being watched. Hawk motioned for the dagger strapped to his thigh, but a hand immediately stopped him from moving.
"Well, you're up and early." It was the innkeeper, dressed in simple cloth and leather. Hawk immediately calmed down.
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"Thank you for the work you've provided for the inn. However, it is quite odd. You see, you never struck me as a person who uses the bow and arrow. After observing your behavior for some time, all brooding and quiet, I mistook you for someone studying to be a scholar." Petyr said, walking around as he admired the sweet, morning breeze coursing from the Huntingborne mountains.
"And I never expected you to be quite skilled, good sir. A few days ago you were mere moments from embracing Lady Death herself, and now you stand a different person, reinvigorated. Last night was quite the event, eh?" He asked, attempting to make small talk.
"... All right. Let us drop the acts, skip the pleasantries, and move on to the important things, lad. You already know I'm more than what meets the eye, and I know you have quite a story to tell. It's been some time since I've seen a body flow down a river. " Petyr stepped up and stood in front of Hawk.
"When we carried you here to treat your wounds I welcomed you without hesitation as we here treat all equally. However, it was me who personally removed the arrowhead from your shoulder. As a guest of my establishment and technically as one of your saviors, I think it is common courtesy that I am treated to an answer of sorts. Now, kindly state your business with House Polifio." Petyr bluntly stated.
Hawk was not bothered by how the innkeeper knew about their conflict with the Great House but rather had a more concerning issue about how he would explain their situation. Gillsberry was still under the Polifio's domain which made everything complicated. Eventually, he gave in and explained everything in detail to the old man, who nodded in silence after hearing his story.
"So... you've met the Arrows... and had a chance meeting with the Warden of the West himself. Quite an interesting turn of events if you ask me." The old man responded in a doubtful tone.
"You could say that, sir. It all sounds mad, I know. But I have spent weeks thinking about how a budding baker like me would ever wind up as a pawn in a bigger game--and yet here we are." Hawk jested, while Petyr chuckled at the statement.
"A pawn, eh? It seems you've realized that something bigger is at play here, and have seamlessly accepted your role in all of this. Not too many people have had the same insights as you when first realizing the truth, and for that, you have my praise." The innkeeper smiled and reached out to shake his hand which Hawk accepted, but Petyr never let his grip loosen.
"Now tell me, you and your companions have been blessed and cursed with such knowledge, what do you intend to do with it?" His tone was quiet and cold. Everything immediately fell silent--almost as if the world had decided to eavesdrop on their conversation.
The tension was palpable in the air. Hawk thought he had already befriended the man, but he was wrong. Once again, he felt the deadly presence from last night emerge, and because of this exact moment, he truly felt like the pawn he said he was. Looking into Petyr's eyes, he knew one wrong move would decide his fate. With each passing second, the shooting grounds felt more and more smaller. Hawk could envision a grave dug right in front of where he stood. People could pass by, and no one would ever know that he was buried eight feet under.
The decision was hard but decided to let everything on his mind out in the end.
"Well, we escaped, we fought--barely survived at that. If I die at this instant, then I die. But deep down, a part of me wishes that I could have at least paid back the people who gave me a second chance at life; to make their lives a bit brighter. Apart from what I know, if I am unable to at least accomplish that, then I will be carrying that regret in the afterlife, forever."
Closing his eyes, he waited for steel to pierce his flesh--but it never came. What came next instead was a loosened grip and an old man, smiling once again after he had opened his eyes.
"That's a good lad," Petyr turned around and headed toward the inn. "We'll be serving breakfast soon. Little Tom bought us fresh batches of eggs from the nearby village earlier. Finish whatever business you were up to and head inside if you're hungry." He then left without another word--seamlessly wearing his facade of a gentle and kind-hearted innkeeper back on again for the world to see.
Hawk felt relief knowing that as of the moment, Gillsberry was safe for him and his friends. For days he waited anxiously for them and not much time was left until they would arrive. They never knew he still lived, so before he returned to practice, he silently hoped his appearance would brighten their day and put their worries to rest.
A few hours passed, and the radiant dawn peeked through the woods. Sunlight had now bathed the halls of The Whiteflower in a beautiful glow. Hawk sat down with a few villagers, sharing stories while enjoying freshly cooked meals when out of nowhere, noises filled the streets of Gillsberry. Petyr, the villagers, the hunters still at the inn, and Hawk peeked out the windows to investigate the commotion.
There, marching and all lined up in formation were soldiers in armor donning green cloaks embroidered with a golden rose.
Hawk almost choked on his meal. Fuck! Of all times, why now? He thought to himself.
Petyr stepped back and immediately noticed the shift in Hawk's behavior. "Baker, follow me. I need to have a word with you regarding our new guests. They appear to be in the hundreds, and I'm afraid our current supplies will not be enough." Hawk understood the message and stood up to follow the innkeeper inside his quarters.
"Well, this complicates things. It is still too early in the morning and my day is already ruined. You need to get out of here before you're caught." Petyr warned him as he pulled back a candlelight that hung from the stone wall, revealing a secret passage.
"This passage will take you east of here--into the Duskenvale Coppice. Hide there until the situation is clear. After you find the exit, there will be a cobblestone fountain with a broken marble statue of a lion. There you must wait. Not to worry, I will inform your friends that you'll be waiting for them."
"Thank you for this, old man. Why are you helping me? I'm planning on becoming an Arrow--shouldn't you be handing me over? You could get a huge sum of gold for turning over a wanted criminal."
Petyr laughed at the statement. "Look around you lad. Do you think I need gold? No. As long as I'm breathing and surrounded by good people, that would be enough. Also, let's say that I share a somewhat similar disdain with Lord Dunwick regarding the Polifios, but I always found myself to have been the more reasonable one."
Hawk's mind was too busy to look into why the two figures were acquainted with one another. He looked around the room instead for something that would help him in case he found himself in trouble.
"Use this," Petyr handed him an intricately designed compact bow; it looked powerful, and looked like it was an heirloom based on how it was in perfect condition. Hawk took a moment to test how well it would function--to his surprise, it suited him perfectly.
"I'd like for you to use this. Consider it as a token of appreciation from Gillsberry itself. I've heard that you're growing to be quite popular with the townsfolk; how you've helped them with their work and all. That's more than I can say for most of the sods outside."
"My thanks, old man, but I couldn't possibly--"
"Now, now. It's bad manners to refuse a gift. I will have no more talk regarding this matter. Take it and go, for I have guests to attend to." Petyr headed toward the doorway and fixed himself up as soldiers began to enter the inn, hungry and thirsty. At the same time, Hawk descended the hidden passageway and into the dusty and dimly lit passage, with the entrance slowly closing behind him.
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He ran for almost half an hour, but he was able to reach the end of the passageway. Exhausted, he pulled the cloth that was pinned to cover the exit, only to find that the cloth itself was also covered by false shrubbery. Hawk stepped outside and finally breathed in the fresh, forest air. He found himself in a rather peculiar place as the trees looked thin and pale in color. The only things left of value were the rubbles of crumbled-down buildings and the marble statue.
"A sad place if I do say so myself. Wonder what happened here?"
He walked around to observe his surroundings and found a place to sit down and wait. The place was awfully quiet and Hawk thought he'd already grown accustomed to the deafening sounds of silence, but this one in particular had an eerie tone, one that sent chills down his spine.
"Who goes there?" He asked as the sounds echoed around him, inching closer and closer. Hawk prepared a shot already but no enemy was in sight. There was no wind, but the scattered leaves of the dying trees blew across the ruins, covering his sight. Momentarily blinded, he heard the disfigured sound behind him and let loose his arrow. What came next was a dying cry of despair and a thud onto the cobblestone.
It was a raven; its colors were as black as obsidian but were now stained with crimson, and had a parchment strung to one of its skinny legs.
Retrieving the arrow, he attempted to pick up the bird and remove the parchment, wondering what message would have been written. For all he knew, it would have been information that could prove useful for Xhiamas. He was successful in doing so, but only found scribblings of symbols that confused him.
"What in the seven hells is this?" Hawk asked himself. He then immediately felt a sharp pain hit the back of his head, dropping him to the ground.
Groaning in pain, he was still conscious but could only crawl away from where he stood as his legs failed him. He turned around to find his assailant and saw a hooded figure who decorated himself with iron links of varied shades of color around the neck, armed with an iron staff, dressed in a black robe.
"Who are you, stranger?" The hooded figure asked in a quiet, male voice, as he readjusted his weapon and pointed it at Hawk, who lay helpless on the ground. Hawk fixated his gaze on the stranger. "I should be asking the same thing." He responded as he spat at his feet in an act of defiance.
"Wrong answer." In one swift motion, the stranger hit Hawk across the temple, knocking him unconscious. He then picked up the dead raven and retrieved the parchment. Afterward, he placed the polearm behind his back and dragged Hawk's body deeper into the forest, away from the ruins and marbled statue where the baker had hoped to meet his companions.