Daylight appeared in the form of orange streaks in the dark purple horizon, signifying the start of morning. For the small fishing settlement of Yorktown, mornings were usually quiet and devoid of life—at least, they used to be. Now that it was a thriving place of trade and commerce, the town was far from what it once was.
Ships arrived from the distance with the morning sun, their white and blue flags signifying them as peaceful traders coming from the southeast continent of Areno. They would all soon dock at Yorktown’s harbor, but not without first going through the checkpoints that were set up by the Jarl himself.
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The Arenian ship named Korra stopped at one of the checkpoints that were set up around the island, its sails rolling up as it was brought to a stop. Thankfully, the chain that was raised between the two longships wasn’t enough to damage the white painting of a dog that decorated the hull.
The ship's owner, Kiwil Samir, stepped up the bow with a raised hand.
“Greetings, friends! How do you do?” the merchant asked the nearby longship. There were two men dressed in blue and black tabards, their chests bearing the symbol of the White Raven.
“We’re doing well,” one guard called out. She was a young woman, her dark brown hair visible underneath the steel helm she wore. At first glance, she looked like a complete rookie. Yet, if one were to examine the calluses on her palms and the distant glare she had, they would be able to tell that this young guard had seen more than her fair share of fighting.
“Trading company and where are you coming from?” the guard asked.
“Ah, Kate! It’s me, Kiwil! Don’t remember?” Kiwil asked. “I’ve been here before!”
“I remember,” Kate acknowledged curtly. “Now, trading company and where are you coming from?”
Kiwil sighed. “Tahir’s company. I’m coming from Dallah.”
“Alright,” Kate sighed. “Now, how long are you going to be here?”
“Two days,” Kiwil said. “Crew needs some rest before we head to Bernis.”
Kate nodded at that as she scribbled down the details in her small journal. After some muttering, she looked over at the Korra’s crew.
“Any fugitives, contraband, or illegal runes on board? Are you still traveling with the same crew as last time you came?”
The shipmaster handed the guard the manifest for the ship, the paper detailing all the cargo on board.
“Nothing illegal or problematic. I’m still with the same crew. Oh, outside of her,” Kiwil gestured to the rear of the Arenian vessel. Sitting down amongst the crew was someone clad in a gray cloak, their hood pulled on. “Stand up so the guard can see you! And take that shady hood off.”
The figure visibly sighed in frustration. Regardless, they stood up, their hand pulling the hood off their head. It was a woman in her mid-20s, it seemed. She had short auburn hair that reached to her ears, her once-pale skin tanned reddish. The woman had a makeshift blindfold that wrapped around the left side of her head, leaving her with only one eye that glinted dark green.
“What’s your name?” Kate asked the stranger. The guard faltered with her question, almost as if the appearance of the woman gave her unease.
“Nami,” the stranger responded as she approached the bow.
“You’re from Kasan?” Kate guessed. The name and the clothes she wore were a dead giveaway. Yet the hair and eye color seemed off. Perhaps she was from a different part of that country. Kate clearly didn’t know much about the isolated nation.
“Yes. Driven out some time ago,” Nami answered. She shifted with her cloak, revealing a tunic and jacket that was clearly Kasani in origin. On her belt was a satchel, some pouches, and a long knife that was the length of her forearm.
“What’s your business in Valenfrost?” Kate asked.
“I’m a mercenary looking for work in Vindis,” Nami responded. “My things are in the cargo hold. I don’t have any other weapons besides the knife.”
“I see,” Kate said simply. Silence followed her words, complete with the two staring at each other in awkward tension. It was clear that Kate was uncomfortable at the sight of Nami. Yet the guard wasn’t sure why.
“Could we be going, please?” Nami broke the silence with a question. “The day is still young, and I’d like to get a proper meal. Besides, there are more ships waiting to pass through.”
“Of course,” Kate muttered. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”
Nami gave a small bow before she headed back to her spot. Kiwil gave Kate a queen piece before the guard headed back to her longship. Before she knew it, the Korra was back on its due course to Yorktown’s harbor.
As the ship sailed off, Kate couldn’t help but stare at it. Something about that foreigner felt off. Yet, at the same time, it was eerily familiar. From what, Kate didn’t know.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.
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The Shaman’s hut was near dark, the only light coming from the smoldering embers in the firepit and the lingering morning light seeping through the small opening in the ceiling.
James slowly shifted in the bed, his hands rubbing his eyes awake. He blinked a few times before finally sitting upright, his hair cascading over his face like a curtain. He sighed as he brushed it back, allowing his eyes to get a better view.
‘First light already? I guess it’s time to get to work.’
James stretched for a moment before he finally slid out of bed. Right when he was about to leave, however, his right hand was pulled back by a second party. James smiled a little as he turned back to the warm cot, his eyes spotting a sleepy Dahlia buried underneath a mound of fur blankets.
“Mmm, James?” she muttered. From what James could see from his view, Dahlia wasn’t wearing anything, her nude body mostly covered by blankets and shadows of the hut.
“I’m heading out,” James answered in a low whisper. “Work, remember?”
“Can’t you take a day off today?” Dahlia whispered. “I’m sure the clan can survive a day without you.”
“Can’t. Got to go to Vindis today,” James explained. “Meeting, remember?”
Dahlia groaned at that. Her free hand brushed some hair from her eyes, showcasing how tired she looked. “Will we ever get time to ourselves? Even a day would be nice.”
“Of course,” James whispered. “When everything’s said and done, we’ll have a few days for ourselves.”
“Promise?” Dahlia asked. She shifted in the bed, her hand pulling James closer. He could see how she leaned in, her expression a mix of hope and worry.
“I swear by it,” James murmured. Right when the words left his lips, Dahlia kissed him. The two stayed like that for a few seconds, their hands tightly held together. Once it ended, Dahlia let out a breath of satisfaction.
“I’m going to hold you to it,” she muttered.
“Got it,” James chuckled.
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The morning sunlight cascaded over the forests of Aldren, its rays of warmth illuminating the freezing woods. In these unending woods, two figures walked side by side, their cloaks flapping slightly against the biting wind of Frost.
Seamus Halvorson yawned loudly, his lungs taking in the frigid morning air. He took in more than he needed, and the air stung his lungs, forcing him into a coughing fit.
“Did you sleep well at all?” Falrick asked beside him, the Wizard’s breaths coming out in small puffs of steam.
“No,” Seamus muttered as he wiped his mouth. “You know I can’t.”
“Even after all these months, huh?” Falirck commented. He sighed softly and shook his head. “Are you sure you don’t need someone to help with that? I know a decent Dreamweaver from up north–”
“No!” Seamus exclaimed. He stopped his walk then and there, his hands clenching into tight fists. He shook his head. “No Dreamweavers. No magic. I’ll be fine. I always have.”
Falrick glanced at Seamus with a look of worry. The elderly man’s lips curved into a frown. He opened his mouth to say something but clearly hesitated. After a second, he spoke.
“Your mother was the same way,” Falrick said softly.
Seamus perked up at that. He turned to the Wizard, whose gaze was shifted towards the trees.
“Back when you were but a baby, your mother had gone through… a traumatic event. It was the height of the Outsider Wars, and it had finally found a way to get under her skin,” Falrick explained. “She lost sleep, got irrational, and refused to leave the fortress. Rejected any treatment I offered. Even your father got worried.”
Seamus stayed quiet at that, reserving the burning desire to ask questions. He knew there was more to this story.
“The only thing that kept your mother sane was you, Seamus,” Falrick revealed. The Wizard turned to the young man, his tired, dark eyes looking into his. “You were the only one who kept her grounded. Granted, it took a lot more than that to bring her out of that darkness, but the only reason she got out of it was because of you. Not your father, not magic, just you.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Seamus murmured.
“Well, to be fair, I’m not really sure myself,” Falrick sighed. “Maybe what I’m trying to say is, don’t dwell too much in your sorrow. You still have family with you. Even if they aren’t blood.”
“Like you?’ Seamus asked.
“More like the friends you made for yourself these past months. James, Dahlia, Lilith, and even that ex-marauder Helen. You can probably count on that girl you’ve pining for,” Falrick chuckled.
Seamus felt his cheeks heat up. “Kate?”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“You said it, not me,” Falrick said with a smile. “Don’t be afraid to confide in your friends. They’re there for you. They’re not going anywhere.”
Seamus was quiet for a long, long while. He mulled over his thoughts at that time, thinking about Falrick’s words.
“What was it that got my mother into such a dark place?” Seamus asked softly. Falrick stiffened up at that, his eyes darting away from the young man.
“Seamus, what do you remember of your family?” he asked. “From whatever memories you have left, what do you remember?”
Seamus shifted his gaze to the cloudy sky, his thoughts going to the memories that he had unlocked during his fight with Eli. He remembered the dream he had of his mother. The same dream that had plagued his mind for the past four months.
> “Seamus, I’m sorry.”
What did she mean by that? Seamus didn’t know. Hel, he wasn’t sure if he truly wanted to know. All that he was certain of was that she was the one who had awakened him during that fight and gave him the burst of adrenaline needed to finish Eli off.
Seamus himself didn’t understand how it made sense. His mother—who had been dead for a year now—somehow helped him beyond the grave.
‘Then again, it isn’t completely beyond the realm of possibility.’
Seamus knew that there existed magic that allowed people to speak with the dead. He had seen it firsthand in the form of Faust, the spirit that resided in James.
Yet, there was something different about the dream of his mother. Something off about it.
Seamus recalled the memories she unlocked for him, the ones that had rushed back into his head the weeks following the fight with Eli.
“I remember the fort. The one in central Valenfrost. The same one that Deimos had raided. I remember the training my mother had me go through. Where I learned Flash Strike.”
“What else?” Falrick asked.
Seamus took a second to think before answering.
“I know that I had an aunt and uncle who lived in Aldren. I had cousins. Lilith and Sigurd.”
Seamus had remembered what had happened to them. What happened to his mother’s sister, Aunt Greta. Those memories had come to him not long after his fight during the Battle for Vindis.
‘Perhaps that is what plunged my mother into despair? No, my Aunt Greta was killed when I was a growing child.’
“I had another uncle, but my mother said he moved to the Horkus Mountains, far from both Valenfrost and Eastern Azurvale. Other than that, there’s my father’s side. He never had brothers, and he killed his own father…” Seamus trailed off. “I was an only child, so that rules out siblings. Which means I am the last of my blood.”
“Seamus,” Falrick sighed. He turned to the young man with eyes that expressed sorrow. “You were not an only child.”
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When he approached Yorktown, the first thing James saw was the new wave of recruits working on their stances and strikes. Their training grounds bordered the town walls. James could see trainees sparring and practicing defense techniques, all of them being overseen by Felix Arlo, captain of the guardsmen.
Felix had once been a humble archer not long ago, back when James was first summoned to Valenfrost. The guardsman had the unfortunate luck of being the last of Yorktown’s defense, forced to rebuild it all from the ground up in the passing months.
Thankfully, the guardsmen had flourished and grown, now numbering in the triple digits. James had no one else but Felix to thank for the added strength of his clan. After all, if it weren’t for the guardsman, James wouldn’t be alive. He doubted his clan would even exist if Felix hadn’t helped him from the beginning.
James gave the guard captain a friendly wave as he passed by the training grounds. Felix raised an eyebrow at that, his hand waving back before calling out.
“I hope you’ll actually show up for training today!” Felix shouted across from the grounds. Almost all the new recruits turned their heads to James, who internally cringed.
“I’ll do my best, but you know how it is!” James called back with a nervous laugh. That earned him a look from Felix. “I swear I’ll get back to it when I have time!”
Felix didn’t answer and instead went back to coaching the young archer who was practicing with a bow. James sighed at that before he went on his way.
‘Training is a must, James,’ Faust called out. ‘The fight with Blood-Ohm went well, but it also showed that you need to refine your stance and swing. You can’t always rely on your magical castings.’
“I know, I know,” James muttered to himself as he shifted the poncho-like cloak he wore over his blue tunic. It was a gift from Dahlia, sown together recently as per his request. He had initially told Dahlia he wanted one like hers because he was worried his standard cape would snag on his equipment and belt. In reality, he wanted it because it simply looked cool.
‘Speaking of Blood-Ohm…’
James shifted his focus to the memories he had extracted from the dead orc. It was all still a blur, a mess of images and recollections. Still, he and Faust had managed to pick out the important details before they had turned into obscured, fuzzy memories.
‘He’s planning something. That’s for sure,’ Faust said. ‘He moved his clan to some islands far east of Valenfrost, perhaps a month’s sail from Yorktown.’
In the Abyssal Sea, at that. James knew little of that stretch of ocean, but he knew well that it was avoided by traders and travelers for good reason. No one dared to sail into it for fear of never coming back. Yet Blood-Ohm had ventured far into it without fear. The dead orc’s memories confirmed that.
‘Any chance that he got consumed by some leviathan?’ James asked hopefully.
‘I’d bet he’d sooner consume one rather than be taken down by it,’ Faust said. ‘Blood-Irk isn’t a threat we can take lightly. Sooner or later, we will have to confront him.’
“I know,” James sighed aloud. “We just need to strengthen our defenses. Our people.”
The White Raven clan was in a good position. Its populace, extending from Yorktown to the houses that flew his colors in Vindis, extended into the thousands. The guardsmen and soldiers were also growing, with different garrisons stationed on small islands near Yorktown and Vindis.
Yet James felt like it wasn’t enough. He had seen the orcs’ brutality in person and their leader’s strength firsthand. They weren’t something to brush off easily. He needed strength. In both clan power and personal strength. He needed to aim higher. Only then will he sleep well at night.
‘One day. I’ll be strong enough.’
An image flashed through his thoughts, one of Deimos. The man who had killed him. The man who had raided Vindis and threatened to sink to the bottom of the ocean. James still had a ways to go before he could even think about winning against him one-on-one.
‘Patience, James.’
James would soon arrive at his destination, which was the town hall. The same town hall where he once had to testify for his actions last frost. The same place where he had found out he was dying last Bloom. In fact, now that he thought about it, there wasn’t much good from here.
James wasn’t a believer in superstition—at least, not the earthly kind—but he was seriously convinced that there was something malicious about this building.
‘Regardless of what you think, you still have to go in,’ Faust said. ‘Don’t come up with excuses to evade your duties.’
‘Fine,’ James internally groaned. With a deep breath, he went through the double doors.
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“Far before the war, before the barbarians and the Lumen Kingdom invaded Valenfrost’s waters, your father and mother had tried to make a life for themselves. After the disaster that was Kjor’s rampage, Yorn wanted to settle and make peace with himself. Both he and Isabelle, your mother, wanted nothing more than to grow a family. And so they did. I was there when Yorn’s firstborn was introduced into this world. I remember the name they gave to him.
“Einar Halvorson. Named after the man your father called brother. His family name was in honor of your great-grandfather, Halvor the Great. Yorn felt as if it would be a curse to put his own name on his son, as Kjor did for him.
“Einar grew to be an amazing boy, his hair a fiery red and his eyes a dark sea blue, just like his mother. Ah, but he inherited the bravery and spirit of your father. Einar had a fire, unlike Yorn, and he learned to fight as soon as he was able to. Back then, your father was a different man. He had wanted Einar to grow up peaceful and rational, using only violence as a last resort. Of course, you remember him for the exact opposite.
“You see, Seamus, things changed once the Outsiders Wars began. Back when all hel had broken loose. While Yorn’s own clan was strong enough to fend off enemy forces, things were bound to take a turn for the worse. Not long after you were born, a fortress in his territory was raided by barbarians. Little Einar was there when it happened.
“I am not sure why he did what he did. Perhaps he wanted to prove to Yorn he was a fighter. Perhaps he had the same drive for battle he once had. Whatever the reason, Einar had charged headfirst into battle, carrying Yorn’s own sword as he did so.
“From what I can recall, Einar was wounded heavily in the fray. Yorn had tried to save him, but the child was taken by the barbarians. They didn’t even leave a body for him to bury.
“After that, Yorn changed. Isabelle changed. Events had shaped them into the people you knew. Your mother and father grew overprotective of you, each in their own way. Your mother, Isabelle, wanted to keep you sheltered in the main fort, never wanting to leave the island. Your father, Yorn, wanted to train you to fight since the day you were able to walk. He wanted to make sure you would be able to fight for yourself. To be good enough to take on any threat. To be able to kill.
“That is why Yorn was so demanding of you. He cared for you, Seamus. Perhaps he was too harsh. Perhaps. But he loved you all the same. He wanted nothing but the best for you. The same went for your mother. She taught you what she could, hoping it would keep you safe.”
Seamus listened silently to Falrick’s story as they walked, his thoughts processing every word. He did his best to remember any bit of it, hoping it would reopen any memories. Nothing came from it. He didn’t recall a single bit of it.
“Seamus?” Falrick prodded. “Do you remember any of it? Did your parents even tell you?”
“I don’t think they ever did,” Seamus muttered. “I can’t recall anything like what you said.”
“I see.” Falrick sighed. His hand shifted the brim of his hat, the snow on its crooked tip falling off as a result. Both men stopped at the entrance to the vault, its fallen roof and sparse rubble covered in white snow.
“I know what you’re thinking, Seamus,” Falrick said. The Wizard turned to Seamus, his hand loosening the scarf around his mouth so he could speak clearly. “You weren’t a failure or a replacement for Einar. You were loved by both your parents. Especially Yorn. Don’t dwell on it for too long. And don’t forget, you have friends who do care about you. Don’t be afraid to talk to any of us.”
“Thank you, Falrick,” Seamus responded in a puff of steam. There was an air of silence that followed his words, the snowfall around them absorbing every bit of sound. It was almost eerie.
Without saying anything, Seamus made his way to the dilapidated vault, his hands adjusting the scarf around his mouth.
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The harbor was buzzing with activity, with various merchants and crewmen walking to different destinations. Some headed off to the marketplace in hopes of selling off some of their stock. Others simply made their way to the nearby inn, hoping to get some actual rest and food after their weeks of travel.
Amid the crowded docks was the ship Korra, its crew offloading some crates of items to sell off. Kiwil stood nearby, accompanied by a guardsman who held a clipboard of sorts.
“Name?” the guard asked.
“Kiwil Samir,” the merchant replied with a sigh.
“Cargo?”
“Spices, booze, and a shipment of Hokako leaf,” Kiwil described. He pointed at the lit cigarette he held between his index and thumb. “Unwrapped, of course.”
“Business in Yorktown?” the guard asked.
Kiwil raised an eyebrow at the question. “Just a rest stop before we head off to Bernis. Maybe some trading in the marketplace with some of our excess stock. Already told Kate at the checkpoint.”
The guardsman scribbled all of this down on his journal, his mutterings inaudible. After a minute, he nodded. “Alright, are there any weapons on board or on your person?”
“Only a dagger on me and a couple of my men,” Kiwil said. “A couple of swords on deck as well for self-defense. Oh, and the mercenary who came with us.”
“Mercenary?” the guard asked.
“Yes, her, Nami,” Kiwil gestured to the cloaked woman who had just stepped onto the docks, her lone eye watching the two as they conversed.
“M’am! Do you have any weapons on your person? Or on the ship?” the guardsman asked.
“I have a dagger for self-defense. The rest of my gear is on board,” Nami answered.
“Would you mind telling me what you brought?”
“I would mind. What I have on the ship is none of your business. I don’t plan on taking it off board,” Nami responded with a narrowed brow. The guard seemed stunned at her answer. He almost looked like he was about to argue, but he quickly disregarded that course of action. Kiwil could see the look that passed over his eyes. It was as if the guard had decided then and there that it wasn’t worth it.
“If you take any weapons beyond the harbor, we will have to confiscate them and arrest you,” the guard warned. “Be very careful. Don’t try anything in this town. The people here have seen more than their fair share of conflict, believe me.”
“Understood,” Nami responded, almost coldly. The guardsman’s warning seemed to have little impact on her.
“Enjoy your stay,” the guard said before he walked off.