Dahlia stood on Yorktown’s Harbor, her eyes focused on the cloudy sky. Despite it being morning, the day was still dark. Clouds and faint mist filtered the sunlight that had peaked over the horizon, allowing little visibility. Regardless, the harbor buzzed with life.
Dock workers assisted the crew of Frostbite, preparing the ship for sail whilst also taking cargo out. James had ordered them to clear out the brig’s lower decks, as he wanted to make the vessel light enough to shave off sometime during his trek. Dahlia was fairly certain it wouldn’t make much of a difference.
It had been three weeks since they had sent out a messenger to Jarl Ivan, who had responded with agreement to the parley. After a couple more messages, both James and Ivan had agreed to a location and date. For a meeting that was bound for tomorrow.
Dahlia wasn’t sure why, but something had changed in James’ demeanor around the time they had sent those messages. He had a certain hardness in those eyes despite his assurances to the Shaman that he was fine.
‘Just like that one time. Back after we had visited Iendis’ worshippers.’
James had seen something back on his trip to the demi-goddess, something that not even she knew. Back then, he had told her that he was not allowed to speak of the experience from Iendis’ domain. She wondered if something similar happened to him, possibly during his sleep. Dahlia recalled the stories of Thien, the boatman of Dremor and devourer of dreams. It wasn’t too far-fetched to say that he had infiltrated the young Jarl’s dreams, no?
‘Even if that were the case, I doubt he’d be able to speak about it. Not unlike the last time he had spoken to them.’
Dahlia felt frustrated at the thought. James was clearly troubled. Clearly nervous. Something was wrong. At first, she initially thought of the meeting with Jarl Ivan, and even attempted to cancel the parley all together. Yet James had stopped her from doing so. He assured her that he needed to meet with the other man. That the clan needed allies.
That at least confirmed that James wasn’t worried about Ivan.
‘But that brings up another set of questions. What is he worried about? To the point where he feels desperate to ally himself with a man who had once threatened this town?’
Dahlia almost didn’t want to find out. She had a feeling that this was something that was beyond her. Something that a lowly Shaman shouldn’t poke around in.
‘No. I can’t think like that.’
Dahlia cared for James. More than that, she loved him. Even if he was caught in the games and conflicts of Gods and Jarls, she would do what she could to help.
The crowd of people around the harbor slowly parted to allow someone to pass. Dahlia took the chance to peer past them. There, she could see James walking placidly with Horuk and his small squad of orcs. James’ torso was covered in a cloak that draped over his front and back, its material a dark green. Dahlia had stitched him that specific cape, as he had asked her for one. He said it was for ease of use for his weapons and belt, but Dahlia knew that wasn’t really the case.
Underneath the cloak, Dahlia could see what he was wearing. It was the breastplate of his steel armor, the runes on its edges glowing a soft, almost unnoticeable blue. The armor was stripped of most of its parts, leaving James with limited protection. He had no pauldrons or even gauntlets, and his vambrace was the only indicator that he wore the steel armor underneath the cloak. He had on his dark breeches, his steel-toe boots clacking against the stone harbor. Dahlia could spot his helmet affixed to his belt, the chainmail on it swaying as he walked. If she wasn’t looking for it, she wouldn’t have noticed it.
‘So he is armored, but he’s intentionally hiding it under the cloak. He doesn’t even have the fur collar on.’
James was walking with Malik and a couple of the guardsmen, Greene and Farin. Both men were honorary Ravens, appointed by and vouched for by Helen herself.
‘Honorary Ravens.’
The title of ‘Raven’ for squad leaders had originated sometime shortly before the Battle for Vindis. James had pitched the term to Dahlia then, who had thought it to be a ridiculously childish name. At least until the title had spread around the training grounds as a way to distinguish those who had been fighting for James’ clan during the Battle for Vindis.
That had caused an effect on the rookies’ training at the time and before Dahlia knew it, Ravens had become an entire section in the guardsmen. The title had spread like wildfire and James had decided to go along with it. Dahlia thought about that as she watched two of the Ravens walk behind their Jarl.
‘Greene and Farin are good men. James will be safe,’ Dahlia thought, assuring herself as she flashed James a smile. The Jarl noticed her, and he flashed a grin in response, his right hand raising for a wave as he walked. Dahlia couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the interaction, her feet moving her in the direction of the clan leader.
“Your hair is a mess,” Dahlia muttered as she bumped shoulders with James. His blond hair was tied up, but the knot was loose, and strands of hair were flowing everywhere. It looked almost disheveled.
“Didn’t really have time to do it properly this morning,” James mumbled an excuse, his hand running to push back some loose bangs. Dahlia sighed at that and stopped him, her feet going on their toes as her hands moved to the top of his head. She undid the knot and regathered his locks, her precise fingers tying it all up. Before they knew it, James’ hair was all neatly tied up, not a single strand loose.
“Makes me miss my old hair,” Dahlia whispered as she rested back on the heels of her feet. She remembered the long hair she once had, back before this craziness had all started. She had done her hair in the style of her late mother, tying it into multiple knots like she had been taught.
“A simpler time, no?” James whispered back, his hands moving to grab hers. Despite the crowd of onlookers nearby, Dahlia couldn’t help but be enveloped in the small moment. She smiled, thinking back to the time they had met. A violent encounter, with her having to knock the otherworldly man out. After that, however, things went quite smoothly. As smoothly as a three day siege could be.
“Quite simple,” Dahlia said with a smile. “Dealing with marauders and monsters. I think we could have handled those fine had it not been for the Lumen Knights.”
“Well…” James gave a nervous chuckle. “Things happen.”
“Fate, is it not?” Dahlia muttered. She instantly regretted saying it when she saw the way James’ eyes had lost their sense of humor. He didn’t look angry or sorrowful. Just… tired.
Dahlia frowned but said nothing. Instead, she pulled James’ collar down, her head tilting as she pressed her lips against his. They kissed for a moment, James’ hand squeezing hers as he gently broke it.
“Time for me to go,” he whispered.
“Come back, please?” Dahlia asked in a breath, her face still centimeters away from his. “You can at least promise me that?”
“I always come back. Don’t worry.” James chuckled, his mouth forming a smile. “If I don’t, who else is going to protect this town?”
With that, he pulled away and headed off to the harbor’s edge. Dahlia turned to him, watching as James stepped onto the deck bridge. She could see how the rest of the crew waited for him, their movements suggesting that they were prepared to set sail.
Dahlia watched as James waved goodbye to her, his contagious grin almost glowing despite the low light of morning. She waved back as Frostbite began its voyage, the mist parting as it sailed off. Dahlia stood there, watching the ship for what seemed like hours. By the time it left her line of sight, she could do nothing but stand there.
For some reason, there was a feeling of dread in her chest.
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James didn’t know how long he had before he went insane. His heart lurched with pain as he thought about Dalia’s smile, her look of worry more than enough to fill him with guilt. He could never tell her why it was vital to get Ivan’s companionship. Nor could he tell her about his interaction with Iendis weeks back.
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He thought back to the memory of carnage and death, the blossom’s future showing him a threat he hadn’t considered important yet.
‘Ah, but I should have known it was going to happen. I just didn’t think I had such little time.’
Yorktown was going to be ravaged and raided by an entire clan of orcs, all of them led by Blood-Irk. James had expected the orc leader to be hiding out near the Abyssal Sea, Blood-Ohm’s own memories confirming that their clan was at least a month’s sail away. Yet, from what he had seen in that pink blossom, those memories were wrong.
‘He went off south, not east. And he somehow managed to gather a formidable force that’s more than enough to raze the island to ash.’
Blood-Ohm was manipulated into believing the orc leader was heading east for a retreat. All so his memories would betray the real fact that Blood-Irk was planning something else. It was a move that only meant one horrifying fact.
‘Blood-Irk knows about your abilities,’ Faust said. ‘He must have figured it out after you sapped that greenskin back in Aldren.’
James recalled that moment. It was when he had faced off against the orc leader for the first time. He had been stabbed by some desperate orc, and in retaliation, James had used his ‘drain’ ability on him. Blood-Irk had seen the entire thing and probably interrogated the orc on what happened after.
‘If it wasn’t for Iendis giving me that blossom…’
James shivered at the thought. The fate shown to him was one he would rather not recall. Even if Iendis wanted nothing but chaos, he knew better than to disregard the warning out of spite. All he knew was that he needed to prevent it. The way to do that was to simply get more allies and build his standing in the south.
That meant securing an alliance with Ivan.
Frostbite carved through the icy sea with great speed, the winds whipping against the sails as they carried James and his crew closer to Vindis. While the meeting was tomorrow, James hoped to get to Vindis sooner rather than later, just so he and his crew could sleep in proper quarters at their clan’s base.
The Raven Keep, as called by the thieves and council of the city, was a formidable base built near the Valdora district. Once the Merchant’s Guild and base for the Thieves Guild before it had burnt down during the Midsommar Incident. James had taken over it not long after the event and had funded repairs for it.
While it wasn’t completely restored, it would do for the time being.
“Are you feeling alright?” a voice called out.
James turned his head to Dimitri, who was on the quarterdeck with him. The shipmaster had been busy guiding the new wheelman, who was substituting for Liam for the moment. The ginger wheelman had been feeling ill and had decided to rest for the week.
“I’m fine,” James answered, brushing off the shipmaster’s worry.
Dimitri was old, his age showing in the form of gray that peppered his black hair that was swept back. His skin was suntanned, despite the lack of light in Valenfrost, and his beard was more gray than black. James didn’t even notice the new wrinkles that appeared on the man’s cheeks and forehead.
‘He looks so different from the man I met a year ago.’
“Friend James,” Dimitri said, interrupting his thoughts. “May I offer a word of advice?”
“On what?” James asked, curious as to what the shipmaster had in mind.
“I see you worry about the clan,” Dimitri said in a low voice that only James could hear. “You’re working yourself too hard, I think. Planning and meeting with all sorts of people. I can see how it affects you.”
“It’s my duty, Dimitri,” James sighed. “As Jarl, I have a duty to the people in my clan. I have to do my best.”
“An admirable quality, of course,” Dimitri agreed. “But, I feel as if a break would be beneficial. Take it as you will, but as a humble shipmaster, I, too, come across similar problems. I manage two ships, you know!”
Dimitri let out a chuckle as he patted James’ shoulder. “Men are never easy to control. In my younger years, I commanded ships during the Outsider Wars. I led men to their deaths and transported soldiers to reinforce losing battles. Many times, I had tried to do the impossible.”
“What was that?” James asked.
“To make sure everyone came back alive,” Dimitri said softly, his voice losing all the jovial tone it usually had. “I went through eight full crews in my time as shipmaster. Nearly all of those were lost during that war. The men here…” Dimitri gestured to the ones working the sails. Not even half the crew were from the original men James had hired last Frost. While a select few were back in Yorktown, most had perished during the Battle for Vindis, slaughtered at the docks by Deimos’ men and Lumen soldiers.
“They’re all remnants. Refugees in a sense,” Dimitri explained. “Some came from disbanded crews and others from a life of crime. I am the one who is responsible for them. For their work and, most importantly, their well-being.”
“I see,” James muttered. He didn’t know where the conversation was going, but he didn’t want to interrupt.
“But I can’t control everything,” Dimitri continued. “Things happen. Raiders, sickness, age, war. People die. Sometimes, you can prevent it. Other times… well, you can only do so much. This is why I encourage the men to relax when possible and to drink to their heart’s content. They know their jobs are dangerous. Most either don’t care enough or accept that it’s a part of life.”
James furrowed his brow. “What are you trying to say, Dimitri?”
“You’re young, friend James. Possibly the youngest Jarl I’d ever met. Which is why I say, take it easy,” Dimitri said. “You should be spending more time with your friends rather than politics. Especially since you’re not dying anymore. Take a few days off. Go somewhere nice with Dahlia. Which brings me to another word of advice.”
James raised an eyebrow at the shipmaster, who grinned as he leaned in.
“Marry that girl sooner rather than later. Life is short, friend James.”
He felt his cheeks burn at the suggestion, his eyes breaking contact as they tried to find something to focus on. “Well… I… it’s not that easy.”
“Hm, I doubt,” Dimitri chuckled. “Dahlia’s been through more than enough trouble with you. Survived deadly battles and fought for your name. Brought you back to life for Freyja’s sake. I’m not an expert, but I’m sure those actions aren’t of a person who doesn’t love you.”
“I don’t know,” James muttered. “I… I do love her. It’s just…”
Something about admitting his feelings for Dahlia gave him a sense of dread.
‘I’m going to get her killed. I’m like a curse. Anyone who gets too close will eventually suffer because of my actions.’
Iendis had made it crystal clear that anyone he cared for would be traded over to fate as a consequence every time he avoided death. Just like Harald and Bjorn, back when he avoided his fate a second time.
‘Consequence. I can’t risk the chance of losing her.’
“Things are complicated,” James said finally.
Dimitri cocked his head at the response but said nothing. After a few more moments of silence, the shipmaster turned his attention to the rest of the crew. He left James alone as he went back to ordering around the ship.
‘Perhaps it is not my place to say something,’ Faust suddenly spoke up. ‘But do keep in mind that relationships are built on trust. Dahlia already trusts you enough to be safe. I’d say it is fair to return that sentiment.’
‘Have you ever been in my position?’ James asked, his question genuine.
‘More than you know,’ Faust muttered. The spirit did not elaborate after that, and James didn’t prod. He instead looked out into the misty sea, his hand gripping the deck railing tightly.
There was a sense of dread in his heart.
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Eilif took a deep breath as he stared out into the mists, the moisture in the air fogging his brass goggles. He longed to taste the precipitation but the filter in his mask prevented any getting through. He could only breath in the salt scented air, his damaged lungs taking what they could.
‘It won’t be long until I’m back at full strength.’
Eilif could feel his body slowly regenerating, his spine sending out waves of healing throughout his flesh. Regardless, it was a painfully slow process. The gaping hole in his chest was finally going through its final stage of restoration despite it being weeks since its infliction. Eilif’s lungs were slowly filling with liquid as the wound healed, his breathing growing ragged. He had to take time out of his day to jab a sharp metal straw through his chest just to drain it.
It wasn’t that he could suffocate to death. It was more or less an annoying pain that he didn’t want to deal with while he worked. As was every injury he suffered throughout his service. It was part of the job.
The folks of Farengard didn’t go down as easily as Eilif had thought they would. For one, they had managed to inflict some serious damage on him. They tore his chest open with pitchforks and farming tools, and his left arm was ripped off by some lucky woodsman with a hatchet. Yet it had all been for naught. Eilif had played dead to fool the dolts, to make them unaware that his body was capable of regenerating. He waited and struck when the time was right.
“It’s time,” Kira called out from behind. She sat back against a barrel, her hands flexing as her eyes gazed at the misty sky. Both Eilif and Kira were currently resting on the docks of another outpost they had cleared. This one hadn’t been much trouble, thankfully. The soldiers here had gone down easily enough.
“I know,” Eilif responded. He stood up straighter, his hand ripping the straw out of his chest. His lungs weren’t fully clear of liquid, but it didn’t really matter. There was no more time to waste. The immortal man watched the fog, his gaze picking out the distant silhouette of a ship.
Their mission was coming to a head.