While he hadn’t planned on staying so long, Leon and his party wound up remaining in Vale Town for two weeks. They feasted with the Valemen, visited their temples to the Sky Mother, Mountain Father, and the thunderbirds, and saw with their own eyes the fields of silkgrass that made up the majority of exports within the Northern Vales.
Torfinn and his thanes accompanied Leon’s party, sharing stories of how the vale had been doing in the past half-century. There were some bad years where crop failures led some farmers to turn to banditry, and one particularly nasty year where they had to repel a raid from a neighboring vale, but otherwise, the Brown Bear Tribe had kept the peace, and the Valemen were prospering because of it.
When the time came for Leon’s party to depart, as he often did, Torfinn presented them with gifts. To Leon’s ladies, he gave robes of silkgrass so fine that they shimmered in the sun, and silver jewelry set with amber and covered in intricate thunderbird carvings. To Leon’s friends, he gave bolts of silkgrass, fine furs, ceremonial daggers, and silver arm rings. He saved the finest gifts for Leon, however.
To Leon, he gave a dozen bolts of the finest silkgrass the Valemen could weave. He gave chunks of glittering amber, idols of the thunderbirds, and several snow lion pelts. Most precious of all, he gave Leon seeds for many of the plants grown in the Northern Vales, including Greenhand potatoes—which Leon was most personally thrilled with, having quietly missed having some of his childhood foods—several unique trees, and that precious commodity that only the Valemen possessed: silkgrass.
“I will not pretend to know if it can be made to grow in the south,” Torfinn had said as he passed Leon the pouch of silkgrass seeds. “But this way, you’ll always have a piece of home with you. Carry it well.”
Had Leon been younger, he felt he might’ve burst into tears in that moment. But he kept his composure even as his eyes began to sting, and graciously accepted the gifts. He had precious few clothes made of silkgrass anymore, and to not only have many bolts of the stuff but to possibly have the means to grow more was beyond comforting, allaying much of his anxieties about leaving the plane behind.
The morning following the gift-giving, Leon and his party departed from Vale Town. The goodbyes were stretched, but Leon and Torfinn could only delay it so long. They embraced one last time, and Torfinn whispered to him, “Your father looks upon you with pride from the Sky Mother’s halls. When the thunderbirds take me there, I will tell him of you, and we will drink in your honor.”
“Save some feasting for when I get there,” Leon replied.
“No promises,” Torfinn cheekily responded with a grin and a clap on Leon’s shoulder. “If the Mountain Father is merciful, you won’t arrive for many years more. Don’t be in such a rush, Little Lion.”
With that, they parted. Leon endured more goodbyes from Freyja, who gave him a tight hug and a kiss on both cheeks, and from Asbjorn and Harald, who each clasped his arm and stated their admiration for Leon as warriors and mages. No more words were said. Leon nodded to them all and then led his people out of Vale Town.
It took all his strength not to look back. He’d left the Northern Vales before, back in the days following his father’s murder, but while this didn’t feel worse, it certainly felt more permanent. His first departure came as his childhood was violently ended, but with Torfinn in Vale Town, there was always the possibility of returning, of coming home.
Now, Leon knew that he wouldn’t be returning again before Torfinn and his thanes had entered the halls of the Sky Mother. This would be the last time he ever saw them. If he ever returned to the Northern Vales again, it would be a wholly unfamiliar place. No one would recognize him. No one would call him ‘Little Lion’ ever again.
A deep sense of melancholy settled into Leon as he walked away from Vale Town, remaining on foot despite the plethora of travel options he had available to him. He wanted to walk through the vale one last time, taking in the atmosphere, and dealing with the deep sense of loss that he felt.
At various times, he walked hand-in-hand with Elise, Cassandra, Maia, and Valeria, and even when their fingers weren’t entwined, they were never that far away from him. The rest of his party followed at a more respectful distance.
Leon remained committed to walking the entire way back to the Forest of Black and White, despite the amount of time that would take. Fortunately, it was only a full day’s walk to the eastern mountains where he pulled out his portable villa and let everyone rest. He, however, remained outside, lying down amongst the trees, staring up at the sky.
When the morning came, he struck a faster pace moving through the eastern pass. When they emerged from the mountains, the Forest of Black and White spread out before them like a carpet of dark green, pale blue, and the occasional hint of deep purple. In one corner, Leon could see even in the morning light the golden glow of the Heartwood grove, and decided in that moment to stop by before leaving the vale. He could also see the deep ravine that Artorias had called the Divine Scar, carved by the Iron Needle when it bit the earth.
He could see further out the rivers filled with river nymphs, Banshee Lake, and the mountain that he’d awakened his blood upon. Even further east he could see the walls of ice blocking off access to Nestor’s lab.
Most eye-catching of all this, however, were the glowing gold leaves he could see poking up amidst a clearing of purple grass separate from the Heartwood grove.
Leon stayed in the mountains for a few minutes just staring out at his childhood home, breathing the air, almost tasting the heady scent of the mountain flowers. In the distance, he could hear the howling of wind wolves and the calls of black iron bears. Not once could he hear the cry of a banshee or hear the crackling of ice. In fact, he couldn’t sense any kind of demonic power in the vale at all.
[Strange,] Xaphan whispered. [Have the lesser ice demons left?]
[You don’t sense them either?] Leon asked.
[I do not,] Xaphan answered.
Leon frowned. [Maybe Tusk killed them all. I really stirred up their nests when I was trying to get the Iron Needle.]
Xaphan grunted in response. After a moment, though, he asked in mild irritation, [You’re not thinking of visiting that old monster, are you?]
A grin spread across Leon’s face, his golden eyes narrowing mischievously as he looked again to the Divine Scar. [No,] he said, [though I think it would’ve been funny if I could get him to follow me.]
[Bah. Beasts like those don’t follow anyone. Too much pride.]
[Pride is a good thing, matchstick,] the Thunderbird suddenly interrupted.
The two began to argue, but Leon tuned it out in favor of just taking in his home for what was most likely the last time.
Elise drew his attention when she took his arm. “Ready for this, love?” she asked.
Leon smiled back at her. “I am.”
With his friends and family, Leon made his way down from the mountains and into the vale itself. Elise quickly released his arm in favor of excitedly gathering samples of many of the colorful flowers and plants they passed, even taking a few samples from the trees. They had incredibly similar trees back on Kataigida, but Elise claimed these were a slightly different species. Leon wasn’t going to argue, and if it meant that he could have the actual trees of his home accompany him to the Nexus, then he would indulge his wife in anything.
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Cassandra was likewise in awe of the primordial forest, though in a different way than Elise was. She simply appreciated the untouched natural world and sought to leave as little evidence of her passing as she could.
Valeria and Maia, having been in the vale before, were a little more blasé, but they were clearly appreciative of the paradoxical colorful beauty of the Forest of Black and White.
It didn’t take long for Leon’s party to reach the western cliff of the Divine Scar. There, he glanced at the rest of his party and said, “This is the place. Is everything ready?”
“Tikos gave us everything we need, boss!” Alix called out as she waved her son forward, who carried a seed given to him by Tikos.
“Set it up, James,” Leon commanded.
Alix’s son bowed and immediately crouched down to bury the seed while his sisters broke out a comm lotus device to contact Tikos with. The rest of his friends and their kids assumed a vaguely defensive formation around Gaius and Alix’s children, ready to defend them against anything that might jump at the magic that was about to be performed.
“We have this, Leon,” Marcus assured Leon. “No need to stick around on our behalf.”
Leon gave him a shallow smile. “See to it, then.” Thus, accompanied only by his ladies and Anzu, Leon started walking north around the Divine Scar, pausing only when he sensed an outpouring of water, light, and earth magic from behind indicating that Tikos’ seed was working. He felt the forest seem to buckle slightly and knew that every tree sprite in the vale was going to be attracted to Tikos’ power. If they played their cards right, then the population of Tikos’ tree sprites would increase once they returned to Kataigida.
But Leon put that out of his mind for the moment, aided in that endeavor by Tikos’ magic dulling with distance and time. Like a dog whistle, humans wouldn’t detect this magic after its initial activation.
As they walked, Maia met his gaze. [I’d like to find my aunt, if she’s still around.]
[Find her, then,] Leon smilingly replied. [Will you be long?]
Maia cast her gaze northeast. [No.]
[I’ll see you later, then.]
Maia nodded, then vanished into the trees. Leon didn’t mind her heading out to reconnect with family—that was essentially what the whole expedition was about. Hells, he was even curious about how the former Gorgon and her subordinate nymphs had been doing in the years since they’d last seen each other.
Setting a quick pace after that, Leon and the other four with him made good time to the clearing where his home once stood. As they approached, however, Leon slowed.
“Everything all right, Leon?” Cassandra asked while Elise took his arm and silently repeated the question with a concerned look.
“Nervous?” Valeria asked.
“What’s there to be nervous about?” Anzu exuberantly responded. “We could kick anything’s ass in the forest right now! Why don’t we hunt down some of those ice things that live here, for old time’s sake?”
“Don’t let us keep you,” Leon stated in a neutral tone as he came to a halt, the purple grass clearing just barely visible through the trees ahead. “No one would cry for those creatures if they were all wiped out, anyway.”
“Harsh,” Cassandra stated. “But from what you’ve told me of them, fair.”
[No one cries for the demons…] Xaphan sarcastically lamented.
Anzu, meanwhile, looked like Leon had just chastened him. “I… didn’t mean to be disrespectful, brother… I just thought—”
“I meant it,” Leon interjected. “If you want to go hunting ice wraiths, then do so. Have fun. I don’t want to be a bother to anyone else. We have a rendezvous point and time for a reason.”
“I’ll… stick with everyone else,” Anzu hesitantly said.
Leon sighed and his eyes fell. A quick squeeze of his arm drew his attention, though.
“It’s all right,” Elise said reassuringly. “You’ve never given me the impression that Artorias would’ve wanted you to be so dour and serious when coming to visit.”
“And this doesn’t have to be our last visit,” Valeria pointed out. “Aeterna is our home. We can always return if what the Grave Warden says is true.”
“Doesn’t have to be…” Leon murmured.
‘Feels pretty fucking final to me,’ he thought, though he refrained from saying those words aloud. He knew they were true. He could always return to Aeterna, but he couldn’t say when or under what circumstances. For all he knew, he wouldn’t return to this place in ten thousand years, and he had no way of knowing how it might change in all that time. This was still going to be the last time he’d visit in a long time, and it felt appropriately grave and momentous.
Still, Leon reached over and clapped his little brother on the shoulder. With a smile, Leon said, “Don’t worry about it. Let’s go pay our respects, then see what trouble we can get up to, yeah?”
Anzu’s guilty expression was quickly covered up by a smile of anticipation. He cried out, “Yeah!” and jumped in excitement.
After chuckling, Leon turned his attention back to the clearing ahead of them and forced his feet to move him closer. More and more of the clearing became visible as they passed through the trees. It looked almost unchanged, and Leon almost felt awkward returning without a stag or at least a few hares in hand. He could almost hear his father next to him, lecturing him on the ways of magic or some small detail of a book he’d had Leon read.
Leon even closed his eyes, momentarily pretending the footsteps of Anzu and his ladies were those of his father, walking home with him. But as much as he might’ve wished for it to be true, he was painfully aware that it wasn’t.
They emerged into the purple grass clearing and beheld what had become of his childhood home. Barely a few blackened timbers remained of the palisade, and only a few mounds of dirt marked where his and Artorias’ shacks had been. The tunnel entrances that allowed passage beneath the palisade had likewise been covered first by earth, and then by grass. No other sign of the home that Artorias had built for them remained.
Towering above all of this and casting it in shadow was a fifty-foot-tall Heartwood tree, its golden leaving gleaming in the afternoon light.
“Beautiful,” Elise murmured, entranced.
“Too right,” Cassandra agreed. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful tree before…”
Leon grinned, buoyed by his ladies’ words. However, he couldn’t get too far past what the Heartwood tree was, and his grin died quickly.
Wordlessly, he extricated his arm from Elise and approached the enormous Heartwood tree. Anzu and his ladies remained behind, giving him some space.
About thirty feet from the tree, Leon paused, his eyes surveying the tree that marked his father’s grave. Artorias had been buried in ancient fashion, just as he’d wanted, and Leon didn’t think his grave could possibly be grander.
A flood of emotions hit Leon like a tsunami as he stared at the tree, his eyes flickering to the few paltry remains of his home that still stuck out of the grass. The only thing that prevented him from falling to his knees was a strong natural desire to not appear weak in front of his ladies.
When he was a kid, his father was everything. He’d thought Artorias to be invincible, the paragon of martial skill and moral virtue. He burned with the knowledge that Artorias had been killed so young, not even forty years old, and that he would never see his wife again.
That part struck Leon hard. Though Serana was no more than an idea in his head, she was more to his father. He remembered how Artorias spoke of her, the love he still bore for her despite sixteen years passing between their parting and his death.
And now they would never be reunited, thanks to the orders of Lord Kamran.
Grief and anger warred within Leon for dominance, and Leon was sorely tempted to favor the latter just so that he didn’t have to feel so damned sad, but instead, he simply walked forward and took a seat on a large root sticking out of the ground. He leaned forward, letting his head fall into his hands, and with his eyes covered, allowed a few drops to fall from his eyes.
When he’d composed himself, he straightened up. If his father was watching from the beyond, he didn’t want to show such a weak side of himself. So, he faced the trunk of the tree and began quietly talking. His voice was shaky at first, but as he spoke, he grew more and more confident.
He spoke about all that had happened since the last time he’d visited. His adventures, the efforts he and his ministers had made in building the Kingdom, and how much pride he felt in having resurrected the name. He also gave voice to some of his thoughts on returning to the Bull Kingdom and the Northern Vales, though he kept it brief.
When he finished, he thought he could imagine his father smiling at him from wherever he now was. However, Leon’s face contorted in misery when he realized that his recollection was starting to get a bit hazy. Even for powerful mages, memory didn’t necessarily last forever.
But he would not forget his father’s face. He growled in dissatisfaction and called upon his origin power to fix this most awful of circumstances. He created a model for a new statue that would be built in his soul realm so that he would never forget his father’s face. It took quite a few minutes, but Leon didn’t move until the model was perfect. Then, after stashing the model statue in his soul realm, he began making another statue, this time of Torfinn. When the Valeman Chief was finished being rendered in stone, Leon made another, and then another, and then another. He didn’t stop until he had Asbjorn, Harald, Freyja, King Julius, Prince August, Roland, Minerva, and so many others he never wanted to forget depicted. He refused to forget their faces.
When he was finished, he sighed and relaxed, intending to spend a few more minutes basking in the light of his father’s tree. The aura that surrounded the tree seemed to envelop him, welcoming him in like a father’s embrace. Leon wanted to lose himself in that feeling and tell himself that his father was at least still around in some capacity, but when his eyes darted around, they eventually fell upon the tree’s roots, and the dirt and grass that surrounded them.
His eyes narrowed in curiosity, then alarm, then a bit of anger. He pushed himself up from the root he was sitting on and crouched down over a particular patch of grass not too far away from the tree. His old hunter skills were rusty, but they quickly came back to him as he stared down at the ground.
He saw footprints. Or, more accurately, bootprints. Recent bootprints…