The sword pierced the wolf’s fur with practiced ease and as the last ragged breath left it, the clearing fell into silence. This had been the last beast of the pack, Jorin’s eyes wandered of the corpses in the clearing. The wolves were clearly bigger than usual, their canines more pronounced and the rage in their eyes when they were still breathing was unseen in healthy wolves.

When they had gotten message about the pack attacking refugees fleeing to the capital, he’d organized a hunting party straight away. On their way they had come across a multitude of dead bodies along the roads, all killed and left behind to rot. This pack did not hunt out of necessity but for the sake of killing. The battle hardened veterans in his party hadn’t bat an eye when they saw the bodies lining the street and it was no new sight to Jorin as well. The wars he’d fought in his youth had changed him, not necessarily for the better but it hardened him for times as these.

“Gather the bodies and wood, we’ll burn the dead!” he shouted and mounted his horse. “Vares, Gord you come with me, we ride for Forn. Myra take along the rest of the soldiers once you are done.”

The cold wind ruffled his hair as he made his way to the road. The forest looked as peaceful as ever but the messages from the Nobles had left a strong impression. Most baronies had already lost one third of their population due to Monsters attacking refugees and those that made it safe to town often struggled with a lack of food, leading to lawlessness reigning in most towns. It hadn’t even been a week and yet, control of his country slipped out of his fingers.

As they finally reached Forn, they were awaited by a big crowd of people in the town square. Most were clad in thick furs and boots, accustomed to the harsh temperatures of the north they had come prepared, though their faces looked a bit fallen. As the crowd made place for him to ride through a small group of four kids was left behind and blocked his way, as they seemed occupied by a stick fight going on between two of them.

Jorin pulled on the reins of his horse to come to a stop before the group and before he could even get of his horse, a young woman dashed out of the crowd and grabbed one of the kids fighting by his wrist.

“Maro, drop your stick right now. You are in deep trouble.” She hissed at the boy and dragged him towards the crowd by his wrist. The other kids looked around with wide eyes, prompted by the sudden outburst of what was presumably one of their moms. As their eyes fell on him, the two kids that had been watching the fight ran away and vanished into the crowd leaving a single boy behind.

The boy looked quite young, he probably had not had his 12th nameday yet, his hair was disheveled and his body was covered in dirt. Jorin dismounted his horse and took a step towards the boy. The crowd had formed a circle around them, going mostly quite except for a few whispers that were carried away by the frigid wind.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Where are your parents, boy?”

At the mention of his parents the boy seemed to unfreeze as his eyes narrowed. “My father… he… he’s working in the smithy.” He replied, his eyes darting around, clearly trying to come up with an answer.

Jorin looked into his eyes. The boy held his gaze for a few seconds before breaking and looking at the ground. “They are dead.” He finally muttered.

“How’d you survive without them?”

“He’s stealing from the stalls!” a man yelled from the crowd, followed by a “Your Highness!” shortly after.

The boy started shaking, his eyes darting to the crowd around him, looking for a way out, some way he could escape but the circle was tight.

Jorin had seen enough. “Calm down, young man. There is no need to be afraid. You did what you had to survive.” Then he turned to the crowd. “Where’s Baron Brock?”

Just as he finished his sentence a plump man separated himself from the rest and approached him with a bow.

“Your Highness, welcome to Forn. We are honored by your visit. May I invite you to my home, it is awfully cold outside.”

Jorin eyed the Baron from head to toe. He was dressed in fine furs, his fingers beset with rings and a heavy necklace was dangling from his neck. He’d heard of the man before and possibly seen him as well though he never paid attention to him. Baron Brock was only the second Baron of his family, his father had been a successful merchant, bringing wealth and stability to the northern parts of the kingdom and had been rewarded with the title of Baron as a reward.

“Lead the way.” He answered and gestured the Baron to go ahead, before turning to his two soldiers. “Gord, take the boy to a nearby Inn and buy him some food.”

As he entered the Barons mansion it was like he’d been hit by a wall, the inside was warm as a summer day and it smelled like flowers. The walls were adorned in beautiful paintings or hung with intricate craftsmanship.

He wasn’t even able to take two steps before servants rushed him and Vares, taking of their cloaks and offering them glasses filled with colorful drinks. As Baron Brock saw him hesitate, he took a glass himself. “Juices from the south, they are stored in our cooling chambers and taste as fresh as if they were squeezed just yesterday.”

Jorin felt his pulse getting quicker and felt his jaw tightening but tried to calm himself down. He took a glass, sipped on it and commented. “I see you’re living a comfortable live, Baron Brock. But you must know why I’m here.”

The friendly smile on the mans face faltered for a second. “Yes, yes, if you’d follow me to my office.”

Jorin sat down in a chair at the table, legs crossed with Vares standing behind his left shoulder. “There have been multiple packs of wolves ravaging your lands, Baron. You said you found out where they are coming from but needed my assistance?”

The man nodded eagerly. “Yes your Highness, the scouts I’ve sent out have found a cave in the mountains. Apparently the packs originate from there.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “But as you know my focus has always been on strengthening our economy, which has come with some drawbacks… I can’t currently field enough troops to send a big enough force to eradicate the origin of these beasts.”

Jorin pinched his nose. “How many men do you have?”

“20”

“That is far too few. According to the law you should be a able to field at least a hundred men as a Baron. As soon as the rest of men arrive, we’ll restock our reserves and leave for the lair as soon as possible. Send for the scouts that discovered it, I want them to lead me there.”

“Of course, your Highness.” The man replied.

“Also immediately start recruitment for more soldiers.”