Aodh decided to set a good pace. Tralor was a significant trek, even for a Foxling. And the road to the city would see him passing into the central plains. There he would find the Dwaelven Capital of Eis Diem. A city he had never visited and was eager to see. Desra had given him no time restraint. What harm then if he spent a few days taking in the city sights. If he truly was to travel to the continent beyond then a few days either way hardly made much of a difference. Still, he avoided towns and settlements at first.

keeping to the forests he experienced no difficulties along the way and was making good time. A week after leaving the Manor he felt confident enough to finally make a stop at Fendoon, an old, and once proud human city, now it served as a trading hub made up of one giant market. It was called a town, though it was one only in name. No true settlement was allowed here. Not any more.

Fifty years past, a rather ambitious tribe of humans had once thought to unite and build a new city on the ruins of their old settlement. They had hardly put down the first bricks before the Vampirii had come down on them in force. Brutally decimated it had been the last attempt of the humans to rebuild some of what was once an almighty and powerful Empire. Now they contented themselves with merchant gold and bowed low before any Vampirii or Dwaelven presence.

All that remained of the city’s once proud and storied history was a vast assortment of stalls, carts and boisterous traders, of all kinds, denominations and races. Here in Fendoon could be found items from all over the Continent. A place where humans, elves, dwarves, Vampirii and even satyrs could all gather to trade and buy.

Aodh strolled through the crowds. There was seemingly no order to the stalls, or the wares. He saw blacksmiths aside grocers, herbalists next to armourers. He ignored them all, his own weapons and armour, like all Foxlings, had been custom crafted for them by the Dwarves. At a great cost. Desra was adamant that each member of the Dynasty be suitably equipped, they were to be exceptional, in all manner and style. Only the best would do.

He did glance at the goods of the herbalists, he would probably have purchased some of theirs had not his own bag been so well stocked from the Manor’s ample store. As it was there was nothing he needed for the time being.

He was surprised to see that a few wealthier Elves and dwarves had Beastlings with them. As he strolled along he saw a Bearling and two wolflings along with a Crocling. All of them seemed to be working as guards. From their looks and mannerisms Aodh recognised instantly that these were advanced genes. He supposed such a position was likely an attractive one for them. Work as a caravan guard was not likely to be overly strenuous for them, and likely lucrative. It did seem a waste however, a duty well below their ability.

Aodh got the sense that they agreed, though he was sure not to stare too long. In his human form most would not be able to detect him, not in such a tightly packed space at least. A beastling would however. One look at his eyes would be enough. And Foxlings were not all that popular with the others. Courtesy no doubt of the fact that they alone of their kind were truly independent and free from the hostility generally shown to them.

He was busy examining some elven daggers when a commotion erupted down at the far end of the market street.

At its end a solitary building remained standing, in the ruins of the old citadel was a hastily assembled tavern. Outside of it there was a crowd gathered by a platform. Aodh spied several humans atop the wooden stage.

Curious, he forced his way through the crowds to see what was the cause of the disturbance. A little apart from the others he saw a Half blood Vampirii accompanied by several armed thralls opposite a dwarf and five of his own kind. Clearly they were the source of the disturbance.

“I am a representative of Prince Grunvar himself. He has sent me out personally to acquire new thralls. As a delegate of Tralor those humans should be given as an offering. For it is only by the good grace of my Prince and his fellow rulers that you and all the rest of your people are even permitted to have a home. Let this be a token of your gratitude then.”

The half blood was tall, strong looking. His skin was pale, and his features dark, though he was certainly no thrall, he was certainly no pure blood either. Well dressed he glared at the dwarf with calm arrogance. Aodh knew a little of their kind. What few documents and pieces there were on the Vampirii he had read over more than once in his youth at the Manor library.

Thralls were little more than mindless human slaves. They only difference being that they were each marked to show their belonging to one Prince or another. A powerful Prince could have up to a thousand thralls, though usually it was a good way below that. Half bloods were different. Considered Stewards of the Pure Blood households, they were something like assistants to their masters. Endowed with certain powers from their Lords such as long life, increased speed and strength and more besides, they were generally sent to complete any errands or tasks outside the Vampirii cities. Pure Bloods themselves rarely, if ever left Tralor. As it was, half bloods were not then an uncommon sight. They were a dangerous foe. Aodh knew from experience.

“You want it then you pay for it paley. Those humans are for sale. For anyone to buy, you included. But do me a favour and stop acting like you are something special will you? After all you are little more than a slave yourself in truth.”

The half blood drew his sword, an elegant looking piece, clearly of Tralorian steel by its glow. The thralls accompanying him followed suit.

“You will apologise for that you half formed shit. I will not take such insults from the likes of you. Had the Vampirii not arrived you and your Elven friends would be extinct by now. Wiped out by those you now seek to enslave. For all your claims of longevity and origins here you required our aid to stop your kind dying out. Were it me I would hang my head in shame.”

The dwarves had drawn their own weapons by now. Aodh saw two elves come up to join their allies. It was now seven versus eight. It would be an interesting spectacle.

“Your aid?” The dwarf laughed, “And what aid would that be? The humans might have been distracted by you and your fucked up teeth but we always held our own. Which is more than can be said for you. Remind me again why you came to this continent? Just how bad did the Dragon Lords roast your arses?”

The half blood roared out in fury and would likely have thrown himself at his foe had not the loud, shrill sound of a horn blared through the air. A sound so strong and deafening one could not help but halt at its eruption.

Thundering footsteps sounded from behind the tavern and Aodh joined in with many others in releasing gasps of astonishment.

Giants? Aodh had not heard much about Fendoon, but he’d never expected to see this.

There were three of them. They lumbered around to stand before the two opposing parties. Everyone seemed stunned into silence, both by the imposing horn and by the even more imposing three newcomers.

Aodh was shocked, it was rare to see their kind. He himself had never seen one. Oldest of all the races, the Giants had long ago retreated to the mountains and high valleys as places of refuge from a world which they supposedly despised. No one was permitted entry to their homes, and no one was allowed to interact with their people. As it was they were largely ignored.

From what little Aodh knew then he surmised that these were exiles. Giants who for some reason or other had been banished from their own kind and were forced into coming down in search of a new life. He was surprised to see three of them together. Surprised and more than a little impressed. The Giants were fine smiths. Their work almost on a par with the dwarves,it held a high reputation. Each of the three wore typical Giant armour, heavy, sharp and thick looking. One carried a huge bearded axe over his shoulder and the horn around his waist, one a hefty warhammer and the other a monstrous mace. Only their heads were exposed, the lowest of which stood some 13ft off the ground.

“Who started it?” The one with the battleaxe asked. Biggest and strongest looking of the three he appeared the leader.

The half blood and the Dwarf looked at each other accusingly.

“This dwarf deems it within his right to lecture me, me a member of Prince Grunvar’s own household, on what is due to us. I have requested these slaves and I mean to claim them. They were already assigned to me.”

“I had already bought these slaves when that pointy toothed prick stepped in. He can hardly claim what I have already bought.”

“They were not yours to buy. You knew they were bound for Tralor.”

“I knew no such thing. I bid, and I won them. Were you not so arrogant you might have been here to acquire them yourself. Do not blame me for your negligence.”

“Negligence? You dare-”

“ENOUGH.” The lead Giant gave a quick glance to his Brothers.

“Seems like we’ve got a dispute. One that will take some time to decide upon. Very well then.”

With a frighteningly quick movement for beings so large the Giants attacked. The dwarf had hardly even moved before he was smashed over the head with the warhammer.

The Vampirii did manage to dodge the first attack from the mace, but it was a cleverly coordinated feint, his step took him directly into the path of the axe. It caught him on the shoulder, he’d hardly time to scream out before the mace came back again to slice across his upper body. Half blood Head and a great deal of shoulder went flying into the air.

Neither the thralls nor the dwarf’s friends made any moves. Aodh did not blame them. The thralls, for they now had no leader, nor obvious direction. And the dwarves and elves for they must have realised what any attempt to retaliate would result in.

“Right,” the big one bellowed, turning to the dais and to where a few scholarly looking satyrs kept order over sales. “We don’t do fighting in our market.” The Giant pointed back to where a sign did indeed declare just that. In writing both bold and large.

“You have a problem then you settle it. Amicably. No disturbances. And no weapons drawn. We are quite clear on that point. You all see the signs. The rest of you consider yourselves lucky. I see one more glint of open steel then me and my Brothers will have to shut this entire market down. Believe me, nobody wants that. Now get back to selling. The sun won’t stay out forever, and we need all of these lot shifted to make room for the others. On with it then.”

The Giants turned away, but the one with the maul turned back to wave his weapon about menacingly to the crowd.

“Next time we might not be so generous. Might be that anyone else causes any kind of disturbance then we’ll set the Daeodons on you. They won't be so picky on who gets what. You’ll all suffer.”

Most of the crowd seemed confused by that, noticing it the Giant sighed and shook his head.

He put two fingers to his mouth and whistled. At once there was the sound of terrible grunting and pounding steps. As one the crowd moved back further. Aodh joined them, though he’d never seen one he knew what a Daeodon was from pictures alone. That was enough.

From around the corner they came, three of them. They were huge, each one larger than a warhorse, taller than a man. The giant boars had huge jaws, full of teeth sharp enough to cut through steel. They came charging around the corner, the sight of them sent the people into chaos, a stampede erupted and Aodh had to push and dodge his way out of harm.

Thankfully these were no wild beasts, all three of the Boars pulled up abruptly beside the Giant who was now roaring in laughter at the panic he’d caused. The three Daeodon continued to howl and bite but made no move forward.

Aodh knew the Giants kept the beasts as pets, the same way men did with dogs. Though that was where the similarities ended. Even one of those beasts would be enough to destroy a village. Three of them, and seemingly well trained, would have certainly ravaged through the market at Fendoon had they been set loose. Aodh reckoned the threat would be enough to allay any further disturbances.

Satisfied the Giant with the maul finally made his exit, though not before urging one of the satyr clerks forward back onto the stage.

Hurriedly, and with obvious distress the chosen satyr made his way forward.

“Back…to…back to proceedings then.” The satyr finally managed to get out in a shaky voice. He pointed towards the closest of the human slaves for sale. The human looked almost Vampirii like such was the paleness of his face. Tied to the platform he had not had the fortune to be able to move away from either the Giants or their pets. Dwarf and Vampirii blood was splattered all about them.

“Lot…” The satyr cleared his throat and shook himself, “Lot three C five, do I see an opening bid.”

Despite the obvious shock on everyone’s face things were not long getting back to normal, gold and the prospect of a good deal were always worthy motivations for people to forget such scenes of horror.

Aodh watched on absentmindedly. He had no interest in the human slaves himself, what he was interested in was the Giants. He had never spoken with one, and was now filled with a burning desire to do so. Besides three Giants so connected to society were a great rarity, what harm could it be to try and work out some alliance with them. Beings as formidable as them would no doubt be of great interest to Desra, if Aodh could somehow work out an agreement or alliance with them…..Desra would have even more reason to trust and appreciate me.

Aodh frowned to himself, surprised by his own desire to appease Desra, he had never thought it that important before.

Ignoring the thought he stepped off to the side, he needed a means of introducing himself to the Giants, he supposed turning up to knock on their door was not an appropriate option. Not without some manner of offering at least.

Thinking back, Aodh remembered seeing a Winestall towards the middle of the market. One that looked rather better kept than any of the others surrounding it. The two wolfling guards on either side of it only added to the prestige. It seemed a good option for the moment. A large sign plastered across the front read ‘Arrowls’.

Making his way back he stood before the dwarf who evidently was the proprietor of the store. He took care to avoid the gaze of the wolflings either side of him.

“Arrowl, I presume.”

“The one and only. May I ask what interests you?”

“How much for the Arrendale?”

The dwarf peered up at him, “Expensive tastes eh?” The store’s owner turned around to look at the bottles and bobbed his head from side to side, “Best I can do is a hundred gold pieces.”

“For one?” Aodh made a show of glancing over at a similar stall not far behind him. “That is certainly not the best deal to be made in a place as well supplied as this.”

“Oh? Then why are you standing here smartass. I don’t do haggling boy. My store has the best goods, at the best prices. You don’t like it then go and try one of those other sellers. I’m sure you’ll find some piss at a reasonable price there. Though I do feel like using the old bog myself. Tell you what, you get me a glass and I’ll give you the equivalent of those other sellers for free if you like?”

Aodh couldn’t help smiling.

“A hundred gold pieces?”

“A hundred gold pieces,”Arrowl confirmed.

“And if I were to buy four?”

“Four?” Even the dwarf could not hide his surprise. “Well if you buy four I’ll give em to you for 380 gold pieces.”

“350.”

“Bhhah, what did I say about haggling? 380 is a good price. Take it or leave it.”

“How long have those bottles been in your store? How many people do you have willing to purchase them? The only half blood here today is dead. 350. You can have them all gone today and cover your store’s expenses for a month.”

“370.”

“360.”

Arrowl scowled at him. He wiped a hand across his face, saying nothing he stretched out a hand.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Fine, 360 it is. And count yourself lucky. You best not tell anyone about this neither. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Aodh nodded smiling, whatever the dwarf said he felt he was not quite so aggrieved as he let on, 360 gold pieces in one sale was a significant one, even given the wine’s reputation.

“Oh, and one final thing. Those Giants. What do you know of them?”

“The Giants?” Arrowl looked up at him with a frown. “I know little, though that’s enough. They’ve been here a month. Basically run the place already. Makes sense, not like anyone is going to stop them. Three Brothers. Jahron, the one with the maul, Yesser, the one with the warhammer, and the eldest and biggest of them, Mosar. I would stay well clear of them if I were you. Though judging by the look on your daft face I‘m guessing you are thinking the opposite. A bad move young man, bad move.”

“Perhaps. Thank you for the wine Arrowl.”

With a slight bow Aodh took the four bottles and headed back down to the tavern. Ignoring the warning and protests from some of the satyrs overseeing the sales he made his way to the rear of the inn where began the ruins of the old city.

Behind the tavern he found the space almost completely empty. Seeing nothing he pressed ahead, there was one large stone building a little less knocked than any of the others, indeed it looked in the process of being rebuilt. A colossus door had been added to its front quite recently. He guessed it must be the home of the Giants.

He had only taken a few steps when he sensed the Daeodon. Stopping, he glanced around. He waited a few moments but on seeing nothing to either side he took another step.

A step too far, suddenly the door of the stone building flung open and one of the three Daeodon came barrelling towards him. The warnings of the satyrs seemed rather apt now.

Aodh did not move. Coming to a complete stop he closed his eyes and waited. Thankfully his trust in the Daeodon’s training was well founded. With surprising agility and no small measure of skill the Beast skidded just past Aodh before coming to a stop almost directly behind him. Grunting and panting it made no further move. But Aodh got the impression that he could not make any further move either. He waited.

It took almost a minute, but finally one of the three Giants lumbered out. He was still in armour but had no weapon drawn for the moment. Aodh recognised him as the one with the warhammer, Yesser.

“Interesting, usually a Daedon charge sends any visitor screeching back to the tavern with a hefty chunk taken out of him. Not you it seems. You petrified or brave?”

One of the other Giants stuck his considerable head out, Jahron. “Or stupid?”

“Can I be all three?” Aodh asked, he was making a big effort to display nonchalance, though it was taking all his willpower not to turn and face the Beast busy breathing down his neck.

“I suppose you can,” Yesser laughed loudly. “What you think you are doing coming up here anyways? You didn’t get that this was a no go zone? Pretty damn obvious I would have thought.”

“I wish to speak with you.”

“Speak with us.” Yesser frowned, “What do you think this is, you think we speak to any old dwarf.”

Aodh frowned, “I’m not a dwarf.”

“To us you might as well be. Though it’s true you haven’t got the beard. But let us be clear. We don’t do hosting. You wish to speak to us, talk to those satyrs down there. We think whatever it is you have to say is interesting enough then we might share a word with you. Until then, kindly fuck off.”

“I have gifts?”

“Gifts?” Yesser had almost turned but that stopped him. His Brother’s large head popped out again.

“What kind of gifts? Jahron asked.

Aodh was pleased to see his idea was a good one.

“Arrendale. Four bottles.”

The two Giants looked at each other.

“Arrendale? You’ve got gold then eh?” Jahron raised a brow.

Aodh shrugged, the expenses meant little to him.

Gold was indeed not something he lacked. His years spent completing contracts whilst generally sleeping rough or in some old tavern had left him with quite a substantial boon. More than that however was the gifts Desra had left him for his departure. Gold enough to see him live comfortably for a year if need be. Expensive as it might be, the wine felt a worthy trade if it meant an audience with the Giants.

Yesser finally scratched his jaw and spit down heavily, “Hmmm, hardly enough to wet our tongues that. Still the gesture is a fine one. Very well, you might as well come in, you are more keen than most. And you did manage to not shit yourself when Mastie ran at you. For that alone you deserve something. We’ll let you sit with us. For a moment or two at least.”

Aodh, delighted, was about to step forward but a growl from behind made him reconsider.

“Ahhh, perhaps you might call off….Mastie was it?”

“Ah yes, wouldn’t do to have him tear your neck out now would it. Might spill the wine.” Yesser whistled and the beast instantly tore off back to its master. Breathing a deep sigh of relief Aodh strode up to the massive doors. It must have been at least 15 ft high.

Inside the place was clearly in need of renovation. All of the walls separating the rooms had been knocked down to create one large hall. It might have been a barracks at some time or other. The ceiling for the first floor was completely taken out. Most of the roof was caved in but had been repaired in parts, and the rest covered over with a thick canopy. A huge fire was lighting at the far end of the room and the three Giants were sitting down at what was an equally huge table, Mosar was at its head.

Clearly they were busy making this place their home.

Aodh hoisted up his bag with the wine onto the table, the task requiring quite a bit of skill and agility to accomplish. Though the three sat comfortably on their chairs he was forced to stand almost upright on his so as to be able to easily look on them.

“Right, give that here then little one.” Masar reached over and plucked the bag easily from Aodh.

“We‘ll have ourselves one drink before we get down to speaking.”

With surprising delicacy he removed the four bottles from the bag.

“I won’t lie, I am fond of this stuff, if only it came in bigger bottles. Eh, Jahron, go get the mead. We mix it then we might be able to actually get some use out of this.”

Jahron got to his feet and went over to where a stack of about eight large barrels were laid on the floor. Grabbing one he brought it back to rest on the table.

Taking three glasses Mosar poured three of the bottles into each of the glasses. The entire large bottle of wine hardly reaching more than a third of the way up the glass. He looked at the fourth glass and then at Aodh.

“You best be taking the bottle. Reckon a glass might be a little big for you.”

Standing up he released a lever of the barrel’s bottom and filled up each of their three cups almost to the brim. He winked at his fellows and took back Aodh’s bottle. “Here, you might as well have a taste of it. Proper Giant’s mead this. The real stuff. He took a quick sip of the bottle, though even that made a sizeable dent, before carefully pouring in some of their own mead into the Bottle.

“Now then. That’s a proper drink. It’s nice to mix the mead about now and again you know. Right then. A cheers. To good drink and a fine sunny day. What more would a giant need?”

“A giant woman,” Yesser added to great laughter from the other two.

“That indeed,” Mosar acknowledged, “But alas, we’ll get that sorted later. For now, a drink.”

Aodh noticed the looks of amusement on the Giants faces as he lifted the considerable bottle to his lips. Though they drank first, it meant little. Whatever they might need to poison him it would have to be multiplied by a hundred to do anything to them. He was sure they hadn’t though. Almost certain. Still, it was with no small sense of anxiety that he took his first sip.

The first of the mixture had hardly touched his lips before he was forced spluttering and coughing to spit it out.

The Giants burst into laughter as one. Yesser pointed at him, evidently delighted.

“Hahhahah….ahahahahh… always the same. Just a taste will do it. Giant’s mead is no joke my little friend. Even for us. Hhahaa. Did you feel the fire?”

Aodh beat at his chest, the strength even with just some of the Giant’s mead mixed in was enough to set his eyes watering.

“You…enjoy that stuff?”

“Enjoy?” Jahron laughed, “Enjoy is a strong word. But it is the only drink which allows us get any way drunk. Taste is an afterthought. Which is why it is rather nice to have that Arrendale of yours to allay it a little.”

“Not near enough,” Aodh shook his head, he had always considered himself a good drinker. Not now.

“Do you want me to finish it for you little one?” Yesser raised a brow as he questioned him.

Aodh was getting a little annoyed at the constant reference to his size. Though it made sense to beings the size of the Brothers, he couldn’t help but feel a little demeaned.

“No, I’ll drink it. It was more the shock than anything. I’ll go again.”

“Hoho, we have a trier. I do like a trier.” Jahron declared, clapping his hands. “Another cheers then.”

“To Giant’s mead.” Aodh put in.

The Giants loved it, his words setting off a chain of pointing and slamming of cups on the table.

“To Giant’s mead, yes that’s a good one.” Mosar roared out. “To Giant’s mead boys. The drink of the Underworlds.”

This time Aodh was a little prepared. Taking a deep breath he drank, eyes closed tightly shut he forced himself to swallow the mixture. It was a struggle, but thankfully he kept it down.

“Ahhh he’s getting a taste for it.” Yesser tipped his cup to him, “It’s just as well you didn’t spit it out again. First time is forgivable. Not the second. I do hate those who waste.”

Aodh managed a grimace. “It’s certainly…unique.”

The three Giants drank away happily while Aodh continued to fight down his own drink.

“So, you obviously have questions then little man. And I have time and a little curiosity so go on. Ask what questions you will. Who knows, we might even answer a few of them.”

Mosar’s words drew more laughter from the giants. Aodh had never imagined that the same three who had not an hour earlier decapitated two people for causing a disturbance, could now be so hearty and full of merriment. It was certainly odd.

“Why are you here? I thought Giants avoided other beings at all cost? Yet here you are seemingly presiding over a thriving marketplace. How come?”

“Straight in eh?” Mosar leaned back in his chair.

“Well, you would be right, our kind generally do avoid others. And for good reason too. Almost all of ye are blood thirsty bastards with nor morals or ethics. We however, are better suited for such conditions than most of our kind. We weren’t ever made for the idyllic life of recluses. We wanted a bit more. Since we couldn’t very well overthrow our own Kings, we decided to make ourselves ones. In all but name at least. That’s why we have settled here. This place will be a hub for the entire continent by the time we finish with it.”

“And you’ve been here a month, yes, it’s true?”

“Aye, a month, give or take.” Yesser put in.

“Only a month?”

Aodh wondered how long before the Pure Bloods decided to remove them.

“Hah, you are easy to read, little man.” Mosar shook his head at Aodh’s frown, “We have met with a Prince. This whole regime of ours is no rash move, it is a long time in the planning. The Pure Bloods may hold territory over these lands but here was only theirs on a map. They had no real authority here. So, they now have us ruling here. And we rule with order. So long as the gold keeps coming then they don’t bother us, and we don’t bother them. It is a fine arrangement. You see, we are good for business. A deterrent to any trouble if you will. As you can see, we are quite strict when it comes to our rules. Here is for trade and the exchange of gold, we don’t tolerate anything else. That’s why we brought in those satyrs. Good little workers them goat people.”

“And after today? What will the Vampirii say now you have killed one of their own?”

“That one out there?” Yesser scoffed, “Hardly a quarter blood. A pompous fool. No doubt the Princes will be glad to see him gone. His replacement will be of much greater use to them. Far more deserving of them powers they throw on them.”

“Are you familiar with them? The Vampirii?”

“As familiar as one can be. Why?” Mosar sat up a little straighter.

“I am curious. They do not seem the easiest to deal with.”

Jahron clinked his cup against the others, “I will be the first to drink to that. Bloody complicated no end the Vampirii. Think you have a deal struck then there is some other Prince opposing whatever deal it was you made. I’m surprised we even managed to pull off this one. We work with one named Lonedrar. He’s a little less jumpy than others. Seems more secure. He said we’d keep this place so long as the gold flowed. And so it has, and so we have.”

From Mosar’s glaring Aodh guessed Jahron was fond of oversharing. The Giant ignored his older brothers obvious annoyance however.

“You seem to be an overly curious sort.” Mosar turned slowly, giving up on getting Jahron’s attention, “And you’ve asked us quite a few things. So go on, tell us about you little one. Who and what are you. For the more time I spend sitting across from you the more I see.”

Aodh shuffled a little under Mosar’s stare. “I am a Foxling. A member of Desra’s dynasty.”

“Desra?” Yesser scratched his jaw and looked to each of his brothers, “I know the name.”

“Yes, you would. We are beastlings, though rather unlike any of the others.”

“Beastlings?” Mosar nodded, “Odd creatures beastlings. Though how come it is you don’t look like one?”

“As I said, we are not like the others.”

“No, that you are not. And you Foxlings, do you side with the Dwaelven or Vampirii?”

“Neither.”

“Neither?” Jahron downed the last of his drink. “So what is it you are after then? Gold, land?”

Aodh shrugged, “I am not our leader, so that I cannot answer. Though I would ask if you would be willing to meet with Desra. He would be most interested in speaking with you. Perhaps even of alliance. Maybe Giants and Foxlings could work together.”

Mosar shook his head, “Now hold on little Foxling. We cannot speak for any but us three. We are exiles. Not sure about what that means down here but for us that means true exiles. We return then it will mean our death. No words or promises will save that.”

“I understand. Then what of you three? You alone would be more than enough.”

“For what exactly?” Mosar asked.

“An alliance.” Aodh found that the words came easy to him. Do I care so much? He surprised himself with his enthusiasm.

“An alliance? To what end?” Mosar kept his gaze firmly on Aodh.

“To the same end all alliances are made. For power, for security. For mutual gain.”

“Mutual gain?” Mosar threw back his head in laughter, “I don’t know what alliances you’ve seen, they are rarely if ever mutual believe me. Our own History is evidence of that. A mutual alliance only exists when both sides are too foolish or too blind to see the reality. One side always emerges dominant. Always.”

“Perhaps. Though you might gain from it all the same. I know you cannot be happy to work with the Vampirii. I know enough of your history to understand that much.”

Aodh realised immediately his mistake. The past was better left in the past. The room, the faces, the very air seemed to turn frosty as he finished his words.

“Our history is just that. History.” Mosar’s voice had taken on a different tone. Gone was all hints of amusement or curiosity. “We do not live there. We live here. And now. We deal with what we can. In the present.”

Mosar pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “I have finished my drink. I think it is time you finished yours. You’d had your questions, more than a few. You will be on your way now.”

Jahron and Yesser were not long following their brother to their feet.

“You’ll see yourself out I’m sure.” Jahron gestured towards the door.

“Well then I am sorry to say goodbye. But I shall not overstay my welcome, perhaps one da-”

“Farewell Foxling.” Mosar cut in.

Yesser came forward and slowly but firmly pulled out Aodh’s chair.

Aodh bobbed his head before turning and making his way out.

He managed to get the door open with some degree of difficulty. He was about to shove it back in when he found it shut quite soundly on him.

Alone and back outside he cursed himself. There would be no more conversation from the Brothers tonight. He hoped he’d have a chance to speak with them again in the future however. There was still much he would have liked to ask.

Why would I mention it? That mead must have messed me up more than I realised. Aodh slapped himself and shook himself awake. Wrapping his cloak around him he headed back into the waiting crowds. Now almost dusk, it seemed the main business of the day had been concluded. Already the hordes of people were thinning out and heading back to wherever it was they’d come from.

The Giants and Vampirii and their broken alliance was known by all. More songs about the Giants had been written then there were still Giants remaining. Aodh alone must have heard half a hundred in one tavern or other. Once the hated monsters of human hatred, now the humans saw the Giants as kindred spirits, beings driven almost to extinction by a ruthless and cruel foe.

When the Pure Bloods had first arrived on the continent the Giants had been their first allies. They had shown them the lands and guided them on the forces at play. In return the Vampirii had vowed to restore what had been taken from the Giants by the humans and indeed the Elves and Dwarves. For a hundred years they had fought side by side, the Giants, even depleted as they already were, offering their aid to the Vampirii in the Great wars. Once over however the only lands given back to the Giants were mountain peaks, lands not useful or required by the Vampirii for themselves. Enraged, some Giants had protested, one settlement going so far as to attack the local Vampirii Principale. In the riots a pure Blood had been killed. The response was a savage one. The Vampirii retaliated without mercy, wiping out the entire Giant village, including their women and children, none of which had played any part in the revolt. The death of so many of their young had hurt the Giants more than any war.

It was a particularly dark moment in a particularly dark history.

Aodh frowned, could those three working with the Vampirii be the reason for their exile? It would explain their uneasiness with the topic.

Sighing, Aodh made his way back out onto the Southern Road and away from Fendoon. A sign to his right read ‘Eis Diem 200 leagues’.

One day I’ll return, Aodh vowed to himself as he left Fendoon behind. He felt some strange connection to the three Giants. A connection that would have to be forgotten for now. Those who had once caused the Giants such pain had commissioned him. Soon he would be working towards their ends. The thought was a sobering one.