James took a deep breath of the cold Frost air, his lungs stinging lightly at the freezing oxygen. He was currently walking through the burnt remnants of Aldren’s forests, his destination being that of the ship he came here on. He had left the vault and its contents to Falrick and Lowe, letting them do their work. Seamus had also opted to stay behind to watch over and explore the island some more, leaving James alone with Dahlia as they walked back to the shore.

They were both quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the snow crunching beneath their boots and the light shivers Dahlia gave off every once in a while. James glanced at the young Shaman, who had her scarf wrapped around the bottom half of her face, hiding her features beneath the wool. Still, he could see the soft smile she wore, her rosy cheeks raising a bit.

“Happy about something?” James asked as he breathed into his hands, his numb fingers regaining some feeling.

“Nothing in particular,” Dahlia responded coyly as she rubbed her hands. After a moment of silence, she sighed. She walked a little closer to James, her shoulders bumping with his. James couldn’t help but smile a little, his gaze moving to the trees nearby. Without saying anything, he grabbed at her open hand. He felt as Dahlia immediately crossed fingers with him, her cold hand squeezing his.

They walked together like this, silent as they trudged through the ashen forest.

After a while, Dahlia spoke up.

“I’m always here for you,” she whispered softly. “You know that, yes?”

“Where did this come from?” James asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Please, you’re not fooling anyone,” Dahlia said. She was still looking straight ahead, her eyes not meeting with him. “I know that you’re feeling pressure from all this Jarl business. That and…”

Dahlia had trailed off, her sentence hanging in the air. It looked as if she was contemplating her next words.

“Nothing is your fault,” she finally said.

“What do you mean?” James asked dumbly. He knew damn well what she was referring to. James knew exactly what she was getting at.

‘I’m not a child, dammit. Just say what you’re going to say.’

“Aldren,” Dahlia finally said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

James didn’t say anything about that. He knew that she wasn’t initially going to say Aldren. The way she said it felt as if she was quickly changing subjects. Like she had changed her mind about what she was really going to say.

“Yeah,” James muttered. “I know.”

Dahlia ceased her walk, her hand pulling James’ stride to a sudden stop. The Shaman looked up at James, her gaze furrowed and her expression from before gone. She looked almost sympathetic.

“What?” James asked.

Dahlia didn’t say anything as she approached him, her left hand pulling her scarf down. Without a word, she pulled down James’ collar, bringing him down to her level.

“Dah–” James was interrupted when the Shaman kissed him, her heated lips pressed against his. The couple were at a standstill for a moment, the only sound being the faint call of some distant bird. After a couple seconds, Dahlia broke the kiss, her breath coming out in a huff.

“A Jarl’s duty is an ever-increasing pressure,” she whispered softly. “Don’t ever forget to let out that stress every once in a while. Even if you feel vulnerable about it. I am always here for you.”

“Got it,” James muttered. He almost wanted to keep the kiss going, his body aching for more intimate contact. Hell, he was ready to go all out in the forest itself. It wasn’t like anyone was around.

‘Calm yourself, James,’ Faust muttered. ‘Your duty comes first,’

The Centurion’s voice was enough to kill the mood, causing James to sigh softly as he stood up straight.

‘Buzzkill,’ James thought. ‘Fine.’

“Let’s get going?” James offered. He smiled at Dahlia, to which the Shaman returned with a grin.

“Yes, let’s.”

----------------------------------------

Frostbite floated placidly in the shallow waters around the island, its sails rolled and its crew resting by its bow. The ship’s hull was near pitch black, the only sense of color on it being the blue skeleton that had its grasp extended across the starboard side of the hull. Alongside it were scrawled runes that were still emanating smoke from recent use.

Despite its intimidating appearance, the brig wasn’t what James and his Ravens had used for their raid.

The young Jarl turned his focus to the two longships that were in the shallows. The one he came on was none other than Draugr’s Haunt, a longship that was procured from the very island he was on. Accompanying it was Horuk’s own longship, Freyja’s Revenge.

The orc’s own ship wasn’t very pretty to look at. It was painted green and black, the symbol of a white raven painted sloppily on its hull. With it were tallies of the monsters Horuk’s clan had hunted. James could count roughly thirteen serpent skulls and five leviathan marks. There were also a couple raptor tallies there. The ship was also clearly falling apart; its sails rotted, and its planks were on the verge of loosening out into the sea. The sight of it made James remember his first meeting with Horuk. He recalled how the orc had bargained for Draugr’s Haunt as a reward for beating James in a duel. That condition made even more sense now that the Jarl had seen the bucket of nails and planks the orcs were using.

Regardless, it clearly served Horuk well. Judging from the tallies on the hull, the orcs were proficient and deadly enough to rack hunt after hunt, even with the state of Freyja’s Revenge.

“So, which shall be our chariot home?” Dahlia asked jokingly.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Draugr’s Haunt, of course,” James said. “It’ll be some time before we can use Frostbite’s gate runes again.” He turned to the Shaman, who had her gaze on the treeline behind them. Both of them were at the shore, specifically where the battle had been waged that morning.

James could see his fellow clansmen set up their camp, Helen leading them around as Haggard lazed nearby.

Helen had taken over the place of captain and trainer for the new clansmen of the White Raven Clan. Other than Felix Arlo, she was the only qualified one to take the job.

The former marauder was a veteran of the Outsider Wars, a conflict that had once ravaged both Valenfrost and Azurvale. She had shoulder-length blonde hair that was pinned back into a tight knot, revealing her bluish eyes. With that and her pale skin, Helen could easily be confused for James’ older sister. Either that or his mother. But nobody ever said that out loud. Not if they valued their life. Despite being in her mid-to-late thirties, Helen was surprisingly full of energy and vigor, her strength never waning. James sometimes doubted she was that old, but those doubts were always washed away whenever he caught her gaze. Something about the vacantness behind her irises reminded him of someone who knew true loss. True war.

Helen reminded James of Hara–

“Oi! Are you two going to head back to Yorktown?” Haggard called out.

James flinched at that. He was so invested in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Haggard approaching him and Dahlia.

“Yeah. Heading home now. Duty calls,” James answered with a weak smile.

“Let me tag along,” Haggard proposed. “Nothing else to do here but labor work. Already tired myself out fighting those orcs and burning whatever bodies were left.”

Upon hearing that, James glanced back at the camp, focusing on the dark plume of smoke that rose into the clouded sky. It had become tradition at this point to burn the bodies of those who fell in whatever battle they participated in. Regardless of whether they were enemy or allies.

Of course, if Malik was around, James would have to allow the necromancer to resurrect whatever corpse he took a liking to. It was sickening work, but he had no choice. Not when he had a pact with the necromancer. If they weren’t turned into undead filler, the bodies were almost always burned. Not because of ancient tradition. No, it was for the safety of everyone around. For the safety of Valenfrost itself. It didn’t matter that James hadn’t seen any remnants of its influence for months. It didn’t matter that the last time was a year ago.

James did not want to risk that accursed abomination coming back. He swore to himself that he would fight back against it. That he would snuff its unholy existence from Valenfrost itself. Even after all this time, he could still hear the clicks it had made when it was still around. He could still remember the smell of death and the glint of its damned crystals. Just the thought of it made him shiver. No, James wouldn’t give it a chance to come back. Not when he was still alive.

“Are you alright?” Dahlia asked. Her voice snapped James out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the real world.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “You can come with us, Haggard. I don’t see a problem with it.”

“Good to hear,” Haggard sighed. “Let us–”

“Oh no, you don’t!” a distant voice called out. James turned to see Helen stomping her way over to the shore, her eyes glued on Haggard.

“You have duties to fulfill, Haggard. There is much left to do,” Helen almost shouted, her voice echoing out in the air. James glanced over at the man in her focus, who had a look of disparity and annoyance.

“I did my part,” Haggard complained. “I’m not a soldier. Not the kind to do hard labor anyway.”

“Oh yes, you are!” Helen shouted. “Did you think signing up for this meant lazing around all day?”

“Well—”

“Shut it,” Helen raised a hand at Haggard’s attempt at a rebuttal. “Unless Yorktown is on fire, or James has an emergency, your ass is mine!” She pointed a thumb at herself as she approached Haggard, who was silently watching with an expression that James had never seen him make.

It wasn’t like Helen was on par with his height, either. Helen was around the same height as Dahlia, which put her a full two heads shorter than Haggard, who was standing tall at a good two meters. Regardless, the taller man looked to be unnerved.

‘Is she intimidating him?’ James wondered. Then again, he could sort of understand what he was feeling. Just seeing Helen angry was enough to harkin bad memories from when James was training under her.

He recalled a month ago when he had mistakenly used Faust’s reflexes to deflect an attack. In his defense, the action was almost instinctual. She had berated James for an hour straight, forcing him to practice downward swings for hours.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t help doing it. Using Faust was a crutch that had proved to save his life multiple times in the past. Helen did not care for that, however. The veteran had wanted James to develop good habits in combat. To be his own fighter and learn his limits. To do that, he had to stop being dependent on Faust. Helen wanted James to not rely too much on the spirit, as there could very well come a time when both were separated once more.

‘She’s right, though,’ James muttered mentally.

He had become too dependent on Faust. It was because of his inability to fight properly that he lost his brief clash against Arthur, the Outlander who had fought for the Lumen Kingdom. Granted, he was suffering a life-threatening wound at the time. Regardless, James had learned from his mistakes.

Helen was rough when it came to training. In some ways, she was more brutal than his previous trainer. Yet she cared. That was enough for James. He knew she meant well, just like the man who had once trained him.

‘Yeah…’

James found himself deep within his thoughts, his mind straying towards a distant and painful memory.

“James?”

Dahlia’s voice snapped him out of his daze. James blinked as he recovered his senses. Helen and Haggard were gone. Upon looking around, he could spot the two walking off to the treeline, Helen in the lead as Haggard dragged his feet.

“Are you feeling well?” Dahlia asked. She frowned as she stepped up, her hands grabbing at his palms. “You’ve been staring off every now and then. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is good,” James responded with a smile. He had to force it this time, which Dahlia caught onto quickly.

“If you need a break, we can always postpone–”

“I’m fine,” James waved off as he turned away, his hands slipping away from her grasp. “Let’s get back home. We have a clan to run.”

“Right,” Dahlia muttered.

James didn’t have to turn around to see her expression. He only continued to walk towards Draugr’s Haunt, its White Raven emblem beckoning him onboard.

The clan wasn’t going to run itself. Not when there was more work to do. With every day, there was more work. More people to talk to. More disputes to settle. More territory to expand to. The White Raven clan was almost like a child to him. He needed to nurture it, feed it, and help it grow.

He could probably have someone like Silas or Dahlia watch over it, but even he knew it would not do. James needed to be there for the clan. It needed him to be there for it. Without him, the work would only pile up, and the problems would just get bigger.

Valenfrost was big. It was also merciless and unrelenting. His clan was but a small blob on its map. If he wanted to expand and unite the south, James would have put his all into it. He had to.

It wasn’t like it was bad for his health. James also had to keep himself busy. It was almost like a symbiotic relationship. James would put work and effort into the clan, giving it the growth it needed. In return, the clan would keep him busy.

Busy enough for him to avoid the voices that lingered in the back of his mind. The voices that came anytime there was a moment of silence or peace. The voices that told him that he was guilty.

That he was responsible for the deaths of Harald Stroud and Bjorn Farkas.