“Where the hell is James?!”
Dahlia flinched at the shout, feeling the specks of spit hit her face. She wiped at her eyes, blinking a little before she laid her sights on the pissed-off ex-marauder. Helen Dunn wore a scowl like no other, her blue eyes narrowing as she turned to Dahlia.
“If he’s off on patrol again…” the veteran started with a growl.
“He’s running errands in New Aldren,” Dahlia answered.
“Errands again? Do those refugees have anything better to do than to pester him with mild disputes?” Helen groaned.
“It’s more than that, from what I hear,” Harald suddenly intervened, the veteran stepping into the conversation. Dahlia noted the way Harald crossed his arms, hiding the red welts on his hands from that day’s training session. They were currently at the training grounds reserved for the town guard, which neared Yorktown’s border by the forest. However, instead of the buzzing sound of trainees gasping for breath and the telltale whack of a wooden sword, there was only the noise from Helen’s spat with the veteran who held the training sessions.
“Like I care if it’s more than that!” Helen shot back at Harald. “If we keep letting him get away with being late, it’ll turn into a bad habit.” Helen was the second in command when it came to training. The ex-marauder had learned all she could, just like Harald. She too was a veteran of the Outsider War, even if her service was noticeably shorter than Harald’s.
“As well-intentioned as you are, I still think it’s wrong to rush the young man when he has the responsibilities of a clan leader,” Harald pointed out.
Helen huffed at that. “Yeah, white raven and all that,” she muttered with a wave, her eyes rolling. “No offense to James, but I doubt this clan is going anywhere.”
“Then why did you join it?” Dahlia asked, her brow furrowing. The shaman gestured towards the white raven painted over the blonde woman’s leather armor, specifically where her old marauder symbol used to lay.
“To get the stain of Deimos off of me,” Helen deflected, rolling her eyes as she waved off the shaman.
Dahlia continued to narrow her gaze at Helen, who refused to make eye contact with the shaman. Before she could continue to press forward, a voice shouted out from the entrance to the training grounds.
“Ship! Clan ship at the docks! Arm up! More invaders!”
Dahlia perked up immediately, her focus soon moving to the young guard at the gate.
‘What?’
Did she hear him right?
“What are–?”
“No time to explain. Gather up your arms!” the young guard panted out, his black hair soaked with sweat. “Holter is already going to confront them! We have to hurry!”
Dahlia blinked, her world suddenly gaining a sense of sharpness. “James?” She managed out, before hearing Helen and Harald shift from their positions.
“Who’s invading?!”
“James is doing what?!”
Dahlia didn’t wait for the two veterans to gear up. The shaman bolted out of the training grounds; her focus now on getting to the invaders as soon as possible. If James was already on his way to meet with them…
‘Please don’t do anything stupid, James,’ Dahlia hoped, her hand moving to check her belt. Her fingers clenched at the handle of her dagger, ready to unsheathe it when the time called for it.
----------------------------------------
James Holter stood before the docks, his eyes set on the purple sails of the invading ship. It displayed an image of a coiling serpent, its visage embroidered in golden threads. It was a symbol unrecognizable to him, even with his newfound knowledge of Valenfrost. The young man had done his best to educate himself during these last four months, even going out on patrols to get used to the surrounding sea. Yet, despite all the bandits he had faced, the places he had visited, he had never seen this symbol.
James shifted his focus to the lone man in front of him. The stranger had ventured from the safety of his ship, his hands raised as to show he was unarmed. He wore a dark purple cloak, his neat and fancy gambeson bearing the symbol of the serpent. There were no weapons on his belt, nor any hidden in his clothing, as his sleeves were rolled up and his cloak was swept back to expose his torso. He had no helmet, letting his brown shoulder-length hair sway in the wind.
James squinted at the stranger, realizing that the man was smiling.
“What’s so amusing?” James asked.
“I’ve never seen such a defensive town before. Usually, we are not greeted with raised swords and taught bows,” the stranger answered with a chuckle, his raised hands gesturing behind James.
James took a glance at his back, seeing the many armed guards and civilians, even a couple of orcs in the mix. They all had weapons drawn, ranging from swords, maces, spears, and bows. James noted how some of the armed citizens were still in their sleepwear, despite it being mid-day.
“He can’t blame us…” a voice commented to James’ right. The young man turned to Felix Arlo, who had his bow drawn and ready with an arrow. The guardsmen’s captain glanced at James with a look.
“With what we dealt with these past few months, it should come as no surprise that we’re untrusting of outsiders,” Felix muttered softly. James nodded to that, his focus turning back to the smiling stranger.
“We have a bad history with visitors,” James explained. “It usually starts with them being friendly before they try to kill us,” James raised his bandaged arm as if to show proof. “Didn’t turn out well for them, however.”
“We are not threats,” the stranger called out. “The opposite, in fact. We are here in search of allies.”
“Allies?” James asked, his sword arm relaxing a little.
“Allies, huh?” Felix chuckled, his bow arm slowly lowering. “That’s a first.”
‘He seems genuine,’ James thought idly.
‘Agreed,’ Faust muttered.
“Yes, allies,” the stranger repeated.
“How do we know you won’t send in those armed men on your ship?” Felix called out suddenly.
The visitor shrugged. “How do I know you’re not going to put an arrow in my throat before I take another step?” Silence. The lone man chuckled at the blank stares before he continued. “I guess you will have to trust me. Just as much as I trust you won’t gut me the first chance you get.”
“Good point,” James muttered.
‘Smart ass,’ Faust commented.
“Besides,” the stranger continued. “I doubt my four companions can take on an entire town, not including those orcs in the back.”
That was another good point.
‘What do we do?’ Faust asked, the spirit’s question echoing in the clan leader’s headspace.
“Hmm,” James pondered his decision for a bit, his bandaged fingers scratching at his chin. “If you want, we can arrange a meeting with the council. There you can–”
“Council?” The stranger asked, his voice sounding puzzled. He shook his head, a chuckle coming out. “I did not come here to converse with the town council. I came in search of the clan leader. The Draugr. I can see the banners. He bears the white raven symbol, no?”
James had to process the man’s words. “How did you…?”
“Word travels fast in the south. Whether it be captured bandits, fleeing orcs, or Vindis gossip.” The stranger’s grin was seeping with confidence. There was not a single inkling of a guess in his words. He knew what he was looking for, and he knew it was here.
‘I knew it was a bad idea to go out on those patrols.’
James had gone out with Silas on patrols around the island’s waters, protecting it from bandits and the like. He had gotten some fighting experience while he was at it and got some bounty pay whenever he had turned the captured bandits into Vindis’ authorities. He was stupid to think that his Draugr persona wouldn’t leak out.
James turned to Felix, who seemed conflicted. The guardsman had initially gone against the idea of a clan forming in Yorktown, instead opting for a council-centered government. However, he soon realized it was pointless to force it upon the Aldren refugees. Felix had reluctantly agreed to James’ clan. Of course, that was months ago. Now the guard was indifferent to the clan, as the town council still had a say in what the refugees did. However, the stranger’s request seemed to have muddled things.
Felix gritted his teeth, his jaw visibly clenching and unclenching before he answered. “You can meet with Draugr. But you must be alone.”
The stranger laughed. “Are you serious? I am not an idiot. Let me take four of my companions,” he argued. Felix stepped in to argue back, but James stopped him with a raised arm.
“Two, and I will be only accompanied by two guards as well. Make it even.”
The visitor’s eyes turned to James, his smile gaining an inch. “Ah. So you are the Draugr, I suppose? I knew there was something different about you.”
James sighed. “Two guards, each of us. We have our meeting in the town hall with no one else accompanying us. Deal?” The young clan leader watched as the man in front of him pondered the offer.
After what felt like forever, the man let out a breath. “I accept. But we must have it now. I must be home in the next few days, and the trip here took us long enough.”
“Fine. Gather your two companions and follow me.” James sheathed his short sword, his whole body turning towards the east, where the town’s longhouse was located.
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Felix moved to protest. “Hey! You’re not seriously going to talk with this guy so soon?”
“We should get it over with as soon as possible,” James explained before he stopped, his eyes glancing at where the stranger was. The visitor was currently conversing with his companions, who seemed to be just as confused and surprised as Felix.
“Look,” the guardsman started, his fingers rubbing at his tired eyes. “If you’re going to do this, which I’m sure you are, I’m not going to stop you. I just want to ask, who’s coming with you?”
James opened his mouth to answer but stopped as soon as he saw more folks arriving at the dock, their weapons drawn. His gaze focused on the two friends of his who had just arrived. Seamus hurried to James, his eyes full of fear and confusion as Dahlia rushed in behind him.
“What’s going on?! I heard there were invaders?!”
“James! What’s happening?! Are you all right?!”
Their voices overlapped with each other, their words echoing throughout the harbor along with the murmurs of the surrounding townsfolk. James raised his hands to calm the two down, their voices suddenly going quiet as they spotted the ship.
“What the…”
“Who are they…?”
They wouldn’t be able to finish, as James placed both his hands on their shoulders.
“Come with me now,” he said with a smile. Seamus blinked in confusion, Dahlia’s mouth opening to say something before she too was interrupted.
“You two are going to be my guards for the day.”
----------------------------------------
The longhouse’s interior was lit by candlelight and the crackling flames of the fire pit that was in the center of the room. James was seated at the long table that was used for the occasional meetings at the longhouse. It was the same one he was seated at back when the knights had come to the town. He refused to use the council’s usual table, as it was more or less designed to intimidate whoever sat on its receiving end.
Across from the young clan leader was the strange visitor who bore the golden serpent. He hadn’t lost his smile, despite his two companions’ grim and serious looks. Both of his guards wore steel helms not too dissimilar to James’ steel piece of armor. They were equipped with worn-out gambesons, chainmail covering their torsos and, by extension, their clan symbols. James eyed their belts, which held their weapons of choice. Both men were equipped with an ax and dagger, their engravings visible from afar.
James glanced at his own two guards, who were sitting at his side as opposed to standing right behind him. Dahlia and Seamus looked out of place almost, their clothing not even matching James’. Seamus was wearing a greenish cloak over a dark blue tunic that suspiciously looked similar to the guardsmen’s uniforms. He had no visible protection on him, the closest thing to a weapon on him being the knife he kept on his belt.
James noted the way Seamus’ fingers tapped sporadically against the wooden table as his eyes darted around the room nervously, avoiding eye contact with everyone present. Dahlia was much more held together. Her eyes were focused on the visitor, whilst also glancing at James now and then. She was wearing her poncho-like cloak, her dark green tunic visible underneath. James could see that she was equipped with her ornamental dagger, its engraved edge glinting in the orange light of the nearby fire pit.
Feeling a bit more secure now, James fixed his focus on the man across from the table.
“So, do you mind introducing yourself?” he asked finally, breaking the awkward silence. The man nodded, his hand moving to stroke at his growing stubble.
“Of course,” the visitor started, his gaze shifting up toward the ceiling. “My name is Daven Larsson. I am an emissary from House Olafson. Or better known as the Serpent Clan.” Daven gestured to his chest symbol. “I was sent here in search of you, the mystery Draugr of the South.”
“Mystery Draugr?” James asked.
Daven nodded. “Yes, you see, my friend, you are a bit of a myth among the clans in the south. Bandits and fleeing orcs had recently spread the word of a draugr lurking around the south, preying on those who dare wrong the defenseless.” Daven chuckled heartily, his hand waving in the air. “Of course, we thought little of it at first. Until we learned of the rumors surrounding a small fishing town in the distant southeast of Valenfrost.
“When our Jarl heard that a small clan was forming south of Vindis, possibly led by a man named after the undead, he had dismissed it as baseless stories. At least, until those stories and rumors had piled up, most of them coming from passing merchants in Vindis. When he heard that this small town in the south had fought off the Marauders of the North, and survived, he decided not to treat those stories so lightheartedly.”
Daven leaned into the table, his piercing green eyes darting to the sides as if to look out for imaginary eavesdroppers. “While I do believe a handful of the stories about this place, I still want to ask about some of them.” The visitor grinned, showing off the yellowed teeth his lips hid. “Is there any truth to the rumor that you have fought the Red Death himself? Better yet, is it true about those Lumen Knights who supposedly died fighting you?”
James blinked, his mind doing its best to process the words Daven had said.
‘How did word of those events leak out? Don’t tell me the townsfolk told those stories to passing merchants? After everything we tried to do to keep word from spreading beyond Yorktown?’
James wasn’t sure whether he should confirm or deny the events, as doing either could lead to unforeseen consequences.
“Do not worry about trouble if that Lumen Knight story is true,” Daven reassured. “Down south, we hate the Lumen Kingdom just as much as any bandit gang or orc tribe.”
“Does the truth of these events have anything to do with why you are here?” Dahlia asked suddenly, her arms crossing.
Daven blinked, his smile faltering as he turned to the shaman. “Well, not really…”
“Then we do not need to tell you anything,” Dahlia said. Daven’s expression changed to that of slight disappointment, but he nodded in agreement.
“Of course, you have a point. I am here to discuss an alliance, not to interrogate you.” Daven’s smile returned, his focus shifting to James. “As I’ve mentioned before, I am here in search of allies for House Olafson,” he explained. “After hearing about your small clan’s sudden upbringing, our Jarl wanted to build relations with this island.”
James nodded, his back leaning against his chair. Relations with another clan sounded good, especially with the enemies he had made these last four months. Still, something felt off.
‘Ask him how this alliance will work,’ Faust spoke out in James’ headspace.
The young man nodded in agreement with the spirit. “How would this alliance work? How can my people benefit from yours?”
Daven shifted in his seat, his eyes breaking away from James’ own. “Well, it is fairly simple,” he started. “An alliance with our clan will open up many opportunities and routes of trading. Medicine, supplies, and manpower will be increased. Many good things. All we ask is that you surrender full control of your island and town to House Olafson.”
Silence echoed after Daven’s words. It struck James like an icy breeze, the hairs on his back standing. He wasn’t sure if he even heard the emissary right.
‘Did he just…?’
“Do not take this the wrong way, of course!” Daven had seemed to notice James’ reaction. The emissary moved to sit up straight in response. “This merger will bring many improvements to your small town. More merchants, money, and, of course, protection.”
James raised a hand to quiet the other man. “Stop. Look, I can see why you would think we need help, but Yorktown is doing fine on its own. The last thing we need is to give control to a foreign clan we never heard of.” James watched as Daven’s expression dropped. The visitor didn’t seem all too thrilled about being rejected.
“Holter, you must understand. House Olafson wants what you want. With our influence, Yorktown can become a much more stable settlement. A bigger settlement. A safer settlement. The Serpent Clan has its roots deep in Valenfrost’s history. We even have a partial stake in Vindis, along with the other clans. With enough time, we will be on par with the Frue of the North.” Daven leaned into the table, his hand outstretched to James. “Please, consider my offer.”
James stared at the palm of Daven, his thoughts running wild in his mind.
‘Do we need their help?’
James thought back to his duties as a clan leader, his duty as a councilman of Yorktown. The responsibilities of this island. They had all nearly overwhelmed him at times. His life risked whenever he had to put himself in front of those of the town. These things all weighed on him heavily, usually with very little time for respite.
‘You could just hand it all off to these guys. I wouldn’t even have to worry anymore. I could just live my life here,’ his inner voice called out.
James frowned at that. He had thought about this dilemma many times. What was ‘living’ his life? Why was he here in Valenfrost? The idea of going back home had lost its importance ages ago. Earth had nothing for him, but Valenfrost had something.
Still, James wasn’t sure what kept him here. Was it his new friends? The crippling fear of allowing his mistakes to linger here? Or was it something more? James thought back to his first days in this world. Back when he first saved Yorktown, when he had fought the marauders and that creature. When he was first summoned, he was confused, terrified, and wanted to go back home.
At least until the night he had ‘died’. That experience of cold death alone was enough to permanently change James, but it wasn’t the first thing to make the young man rethink his purpose. It was when he was standing up for the people of this small town. It was when he stood up to Deimos, knowing full well he would never win. James’ drive, the one that had kick-started everything, was to protect the ones who couldn’t do it themselves. That drive was his entire reason for all the events that transpired in these last four months.
‘What will be the point of being here if I just take the easy route and give my purpose away to someone else? Not only that, but what kind of lousy clan leader will I be if I give my responsibilities up the first chance I get?’
James looked Daven straight in the eye.
“No deal,” he answered finally before standing up. “I can’t give up my people to a clan I know nothing about.”
Daven took a long look at James before he gave a dejected sigh, his head shaking as he stood up.
“Fine, it is your choice.” The emissary slowly made his way to the longhouse’s doors, his guards following close behind. “It is a shame we could not reach a deal. I will leave for my home. I need to report this.” Daven stopped his walk, his head turning back to James. “We will be on neutral terms with you, Draugr, should you ever change your mind,” Daven sighed. “Remember that Valenfrost is an unforgiving mistress. Most small clans usually take us up on our offers. The ones that don’t…” He went silent.
“We’ll be fine,” James responded.
“I hope so. I also hope that you do not end up the same as the Hawk Clan.”
“Hawk Clan?” James raised his head.
“Yes. The one that lies west of here, led by that idiot Ivan Falk. If you would end up the same as he or, god forbid, worse, we will no longer be on neutral ground. You will be an enemy to us all, same as him. Is this clear?”
“Crystal,” James answered, his thoughts going back to the men who had assisted the Lumen Knights. It seemed like Jarl Ivan Falk had his fair share of enemies.
“May the gods guide you,” Daven called out before he turned away, his back turned to the room. James watched as the emissary walked out of the doors with his guards, the cold air from outside suddenly rushing in.
For a good minute, there was silence among the trio of friends, their gazes set on where they had last seen Daven.
‘What now?’ Faust’s voice broke the silence in James’ head.
The clan leader furrowed his brow, a bandaged hand moving up to scratch at his beard. “Now? Now we–”
A sudden burst of pain suddenly flashed through James’ body, his hand instinctively moving to grab at his chest.
“What the?!” he involuntarily gasped loudly, his knees giving away as he collapsed onto the ground. James tried to take a breath, only for his lungs to fail him.
‘Air! I need—’
A sharp pain suddenly coursed through his head like a lightning bolt, disrupting all thought. James could hear his friends shouting, their blurred faces coming into view as he desperately tried to breathe.
“James?!”
Was all he could make out. James tried to get up, his body rolling over so he could get on his hands and knees. His lungs then filled with something viscous, causing the young man to cough violently. He blinked. Blood. It stained the floor like nothing else, the dark contents seeping into the ground. James coughed again, his hand moving to cover his hand. More blood. His chest hurt like hell. Almost as if it had been pierced. The pain alone was overwhelming.
“I…I need…”
‘Faust?! What’s happening?!’ James focused hard on trying not to pass out, his eyelids slowly growing heavier by the second.
‘Faust?!’ James called out again. He tried to reach out to the spirit mentally, hoping to find the Centurion spirit. James’ eyes widened. Faust was nowhere to be found. His presence was gone. At least, for the passing moment.
‘James?!’ the Centurion’s voice called out to the young man. Accompanying the spirit was the feeling of respite, the pains in his chest suddenly disappearing.
‘What the fuck is happening?!’ James called out in his mind, his muscles suddenly giving out. James fell back to the ground from his crawling position, the blood on the floor staining his face. His breathing was growing heavier, his vision darkening.
“What…What is happening?” James muttered, the pain in his body appearing and disappearing like crazy. He could feel how someone turned him onto his back, their hands moving to grab his chest, where it also bled. He tried to make it out, his eyes squinting as he used the last of his strength to raise his head.
The last thing James saw before he passed out was Dahlia and Seamus yelling and panicking as they tried to stem the bleeding from his open chest wound.