Dahlia groaned softly as she awoke, sitting up as she looked around the unfamiliar room. Her head was killing her, a result of the drinks she had the previous night. She blinked, looking around at the foreign place.
‘This isn’t my home…. Oh, wait.’
Dahlia looked next to her, her eyes widening as she lifted the blanket. James was right there, snoring as he tossed and turned, keeping to himself on his side of the bed. Dahlia’s worries were eased a bit when she noticed James was still in his full attire, boots included. She looked around the room, noticing the window to her left. She slid out of bed, realizing that she, too, was in her attire, not a single scrap of clothing missing.
‘How much did I drink?’
Dahlia winced at her sudden headache. Water. She really needed water. Dahlia stumbled her way across the room, glancing at the window as she reached the door. The courtyard was visible from the window, showing that she was still at the tavern, most likely in one of the rented rooms. She opened the door, walking through the hallway and down the wooden stairs leading to the tavern’s first floor.
Upon entering the tavern, Dahlia noticed how sparse it was. The only patrons here were people having breakfast or people hungover from last night. She spotted Seamus over at a table, eating what looked like porridge. He tiredly sipped from a mug, his gaze meeting Dahlia’s as she approached the young man. The shaman sat down on a nearby chair, rubbing her temple as she eyed the breakfast Seamus was having.
“Did you get us that room?” Dahlia asked, knowing full well she had no recollection renting out a room. Seamus nodded, sipping from his mug again, which was filled with water now that Dahlia had a better look.
“You were both drunk and unable to walk right. I didn’t want you two to risk injuring yourselves on the way back to the hut,” he explained.
A tavern server then suddenly came up to the table, cutting off whatever Dahlia was about to say.
“Would you like anything?” She asked the shaman without giving Dahlia much time to rest. Dahlia sighed, looking up at the woman. She seemed middle-aged, but her hair was visibly graying.
“Water, please...” Dahlia managed out, feeling her dry throat itch for thirst. The woman nodded, turning away and heading off. Dahlia looked back at Seamus, who yawned tiredly. “Where’d you sleep?” Dahlia asked suddenly, raising a tired eyebrow.
Seamus’s face reddened, the question jolting him awake. “I… uh…”
Someone else suddenly interrupted their conversation by sitting down at the table. Both Dahlia and Seamus turned to see a tired Felix, who looked like he didn’t get enough sleep, if at all. The guard had been present last night, and Dahlia remembered how he had noticeably glanced at James’ directions. She had thought maybe he would come by to talk, but the guardsman had stayed his distance, talking with Harald instead.
“I… need to talk to you both. About James,” Felix spoke up.
Dahlia raised an eyebrow, her stomach churning as her exhaustion evaporated at the mention of James. Before she could inquire about what Felix meant, the server came back with her water, setting the mug down for her.
“Do you need anything else?” She asked Dahlia. The shaman had originally wanted breakfast but wasn’t feeling for it at the moment.
“No, thanks,” she responded politely before the woman turned to Felix.
“Felix, dearie, would you like anything to eat or drink?” She asked the guard.
“No, thanks, Gladis, I’m fine,” Felix smiled at the server, waving her off as she headed to serve the other patrons. Felix’s smile soon disappeared after the woman left, his fingers rubbing his eyes.
“Felix,” Dahlia started, looking down at her water as she held the mug. “What did you want to talk about?”
Felix looked over at the shaman, a tired and hesitant look on his face. He had dark bags under his eyes, probably from all the stress and hours spent on that damned council.
“Before I tell you… You both must understand that I have done my absolute best. The risks I took alone–”
“Can you please stop with the excuses?” Dahlia interrupted, staring at the guardsman.
Felix blinked, but nodded. “Sorry. I have to let you two know that the council has decided to exile James Holter from Yorktown.”
“What?” Dahlia asked. She had expected something like this to happen, but the news still hit her like a bucket of freezing water.
“Look, I did my best! Alright? But you cannot expect me to do much against those two imbeciles in the council’s seat! Even if we try to repeal it, those idiots have the power over the rest of the town. Most people here would even agree with her, especially since most of them think James is at fault for destroying the town!” Felix’s voice was hushed and low, but his anger and disagreement were clear in his tone.
“Blame me for it,” Seamus’ quiet voice caught their attention, making both the shaman and guard turn to the man. “You can tell Nora that I was the reason, right? Make it so that James won’t have to be exiled?”
Felix shook his head. “They’ll be exiling you both. The town and council want someone to blame, and James is the perfect scapegoat. A strange foreigner from gods knows where and a ship given to him by a marauder? No, the damage is already done.”
“Then we kill both council members, gut them and hang them by their entrails,” Seamus spoke out suddenly. His voice was full of bloodlust and anger, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Dahlia stared at the young man, unsure if she heard him right. Seamus shook his head and blinked, his green eyes shifting back to normal.
“Sorry… That was… something else...” His hands were shaking suddenly, carefully grabbing the mug of water next to his porridge.
Dahlia seriously had to talk to Seamus about his strange behavior. She turned to Felix, who was about to say something. He stopped, his eyes focusing on something behind Dahlia. The shaman turned to see what he was looking at. James was stepping down from the stairs, yawning as he wiped his eyes. His dirty blond hair was disheveled, his hand scratching at his scruffy beard as he headed towards the table.
“Hey, guys, you started breakfast without me?” He asked, raising an eyebrow once he noticed Felix. “What’s with those faces?”
“James,” Dahlia started.
“We need to talk.”
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Gryff stood at the bow of the royal ship, yawning as he watched the distant island slowly grow little by little. They had finally reached Yorktown, it seemed, to the spellcaster’s relief.
“Guess you’re not so useless, huh Bron?” He stated, his right hand grabbing the reddish hair of the elf bandit at his feet. The bandit whimpered painfully, his face covered in bruises and cuts. Gryff didn’t really have to torture the poor elf since, at the first sign of pain, Bron had confessed everything the knight wanted to know. This included the elf’s full name and personal fears and his admission to wetting the bed as a child.
As for why Gryff continued to torment Bron, well… The cryomancer was simply having too much fun. He really didn’t want to kill him outright like his other bandit friends, since it would devoid him of any actual entertainment during this entire trip. So, Gryff kept him around, as a somewhat fucked up way of a companionship.
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“You know we knew the way to Yorktown, right?” One man nearby pointed out. He was wearing a dark green tunic underneath leather armor, his patched-on emblem signifying him as one of Jarl Ivan’s warriors. Despite the hawk emblem he wore, Gryff knew of the more commonly known name for these men. Green-tunics were what most people in the south called the warriors of the Hawk Clan.
“Just wanted to be sure. You can never know if someone might fuck up,” Gryff said, turning his head to the neighboring ship.
The ship nearby, known as Talon by the name on its side, belonged to the Jarl of the South. If he could be called that. Gryff knew full well that there were other Jarls south of Valenfrost, most of them controlling their own sections of the hemisphere. Yet Jarl Ivan seemed to be the most well known among them all for some odd reason.
‘Perhaps the other Jarls have much smaller clans… I will look into it after this assignment, of course.’
Gryff saw Hugo on the bow of the other ship, his size repelling the other warriors on board. The cryomancer smiled at the amusing ordeal, as even a glance from the behemoth seemed to unnerve those ‘warriors.’
Talon was a ship that Jarl Ivan had sent out, a condition that Gryff requested during ‘negotiations’. Jarl Ivan had also sent out a fifteen-man crew to assist in Gryff’s assignment, to help with any encounters they might have. One such example was the encounter from last night when the elf bandit at Gryff’s feet had tried to board both ships with his small crew of thieves.
Unfortunately for them, Hugo had been itching for a fight. The monstrous man had killed every single thief on his lonesome when the bandits raided Talon’s deck during the dead of night. Gryff’s ship, Luna, was raided by the other ship, the one that Bron was on.
Bron’s survival resulted from dumb luck, as he tripped and knocked himself out within a few seconds of the raid. The cryomancer had only realized he was alive when he was cleaning up the bodies, which led to poor Bron being tortured the rest of that night and early morning. Bron had stopped begging for his mercy and death a while ago, which disappointed Gryff.
‘Going to put him down soon at this rate. Oh well, hopefully, someone will try something at Yorktown… Spice things up a little.’
Gryff looked back at Yorktown, which was slowly growing closer by the minute. It had gone from the size of his thumb to a fist sized island within the last 30 minutes, so he had no doubts he would reach the town in no time. Gryff turned back to the rest of his crew, which comprised eight royal soldiers and six of the Jarl’s men. The Lumen soldiers weren’t as experienced in combat as the average raider or warrior, but they were all well trained. Gryff had faith that they wouldn’t fail. Otherwise, he’ll make an example out of one of them.
He turned to the town again, squinting. The settlement seemed in ruins, burnt buildings and black ash covering the ground. Still, there were people around, walking and working. Gryff turned his attention to the harbor. There were only a couple of small fishing vessels and a modest ship, a marauder’s ship, its black hull and red paint making it obvious.
‘Interesting…’
“All right, everyone,” Gryff called out. “Get ready to dock the ships at the harbor.”
----------------------------------------
“What?”
James was dumbfounded, his words coming out before he had time to process the information.
“The council has exiled you. There’s nothing I can do, James. She’s made you out to be a threat to the townspeople.” Felix’s words were sincere, striking James with such an impact that his thought process was stunned for a solid second.
“Exile?” James asked, his throat dry and hoarse.
“They’re going to send you off on a boat to some nearby settlement. You’ll be lucky if you get there alive, since the area around there is frequented by pirates,” Felix explained. “We can do our best to get the town on your side. It’ll be difficult, but...”
Felix’s words turned into nonsensical mumbling now, as James’ focus tuned out everything else. He remembered what he had done for this town, how he had faced Deimos alone, how he ambushed the marauders with the help of his friends, and how he had killed that thing. He had gone through so much, and this was their thanks? James suddenly stood, his emotions in control, as he turned to leave.
James couldn’t hear what Dahlia or Felix were saying, their voices distant as he walked out of the tavern. His body was heated in anger, his jaw clenched so tightly it sent sharp pains throughout his skull.
‘James…’ Faust spoke into James’ mind, his voice loud and clear to the young man. ‘Listen to me, this isn’t worth the trouble, alright? You’re going to make it worse, James…’
James wanted to shut Faust up but knew that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
‘Does she know what we went through, Faust?! All the fighting and death? I fucking died defending this town! And she thinks I’m a threat! I will be once I get to that longhouse!’
He could hear his friends from behind, how their voices called to him. James didn’t listen as he hurried his pace, the longhouse ahead growing closer. Some people watched in confusion, others in morbid curiosity as James came up to the council’s headquarters, his hands pushing the doors open.
The freezing morning air rushed into the building, causing the candles inside to flicker as the councilmen responsible stared at James with dumbfounded expressions. They were at their fancy desk, talking before James had interrupted. The blond man stepped forward, his anger seething. He could see a crowd of people gathering around him, mixed reactions from the people as they watched James. The woman, Nora, stood from her chair, glaring at James as she did her best to seem tall and authoritative. It did not affect James in the slightest.
“Sir Holter! What is the meaning of this intrusion?” She called out. The mere sound of her voice was more than enough to set James off.
“You know damn well why I’m here! I risked my life more than once for this town, and you people want to exile me? The hell is wrong with you?!” James shouted, his voice booming throughout the longhouse.
“So you found out?” Nora asked, shaking her head. “I will let you know that we have every reason to exile you! While we have no proof of your association with the marauders, no one can deny the fact there’s a connection between you and them! Not only that, but ever since you have arrived, there has been nothing but trouble! Almost all the evidence points to you!”
James recoiled at the stupidness of Nora’s argument. He wanted to scream at her, to tell her that her suspicions were unfounded and pointless. Before he could get a chance, though, he could hear murmuring from the crowd behind him.
He ignored it, focusing on the other council member, Otis.
“Do you really believe her?” He asked, hoping to get the elderly man’s attention.
The old man hesitated for a moment, but Nora’s stare made him squirm in his seat.
“Yes… Of course,” Otis responded, not a single ounce of conviction in his voice. James furrowed his brow, looking at Nora.
“You’re a goddamn control freak, aren’t you? Can’t be satisfied unless every single person follows your little rules. So you manipulate and threaten your way to the top. Am I in the ballpark?” James called Nora out, despite knowing full well she wouldn’t understand that last part.
Nora’s face was twisted in anger, her face red as she breathed in to answer back. James couldn’t hear what she said before a series of voices talked amongst themselves, distracting James from his argument. The townsfolk were no longer paying attention, as they were focused on something else completely.
“Who are they?”
“More raiders?”
“Are those the marauders?”
“No, they’re wearing different colors….”
“What’s happening?”
James’ anger slowly dissipated, his expression turning to worry as he listened to the crowd.
“What the hell is happening?” he murmured. He could see his friends, Dahlia and Seamus, within the crowd, along with Felix and Haggard. Before James could ask them anything, the crowd suddenly parted, people scrambling away from a group of people. James had the eerie sense of déjà vu, the scene before him looking way too familiar. Two men led a group through, their shining armor reflecting their surroundings. A small wax seal was on their chests, showing their emblem, which portrayed a seven-pointed sun encased in a circle.
‘No,’ Faust’s voice rang out, a sense of dread overcoming James.
One man was around James’ height, his black hair slicked back as he smiled at the young man. The other was a behemoth, his height rivaling that of Deimos, possibly even taller. The gigantic man carried a halberd, which looked too unwieldy for any normal human to use, yet he carried it like a child’s toy. Behind them were a group of armed men, some of them in green tunics and leather armor, while the others wore partial steel armor and blue sashes.
“It seems we may have intruded on something important,” the first man commented, walking into the longhouse as the huge man followed close behind. James swallowed, watching as the man trailed his fingers along the long table inside the building.
“Are you the leader of these people?” The stranger asked Nora, all the while Otis did his best to squirm away. Nora visibly took a couple of steps back, nearly tripping as she stammered.
“W-Who are you people?” She asked.
The first man grinned, gesturing to his friend nearby. “I am Gryff of House Brenwick, and my friend behind me is Hugo of House Ardel. We are ambassadors for his majesty.”