Blackgrave

Upon the morning of Chaos 38th, 836, Lord Isle, his assistant, Lord Ros, and Lord Gremmelt deliberated what to do about the town of Waldenhauf. The Commander, as well as all of the other Lords, were out on various hunts, so the affairs of The Order were left to the three of them.

“Should we send them back out? Naja may be nursing her wounds, but I know she can handle it,” Lord Gremmelt said to the others.

Lord Isle shook his head in disagreement. “If she were capable, she would have taken care of it before coming back. Besides, we can't afford to lose anyone. Everyone in her and Akecheta’s party will remain here until Greed to regain their strength.”

Lord Isle was dressed in loose fitting green robes and was wrapped in bandages from head to toe. Only a small slit on his face showed his dark and enigmatic gaze. Because of his injuries, he did not go on hunts and was instead responsible for compiling lore and studying the supernatural.

“I will go,” Lord Ros said confidently. He was an Initiate within The Order who had grown beneath the careful eye of Lord Isle. A youth of only twenty-four, he was the second child to ever be raised within the walls of Witchbane Keep.

“Very well,” Lord Isle said. “Take three blades with you. That should suffice.”

“Only three?” Ronan Ros asked, and Lord Isle nodded.

“Yes, go to Waldenhauf, and if the Witch is still there, return with her head.”

“Will the four of them be enough?” Gremmelt asked.

“They better,” Lord Isle replied. “Our numbers are dwindling, and our hunts are increasing. If we send any more, we are liable to open ourselves up to some kind of attack. These woods are home to many evils, some of which plot against us as we speak. Even now, the Commander himself can't afford to remain idle.”

“Be careful, Ronan,” Lord Gremmelt said. “Because there is no request, there isn’t anyone in town you need to speak to directly. Before you leave, seek out Ra’Selas or Naja—he fought with the Witch, and she dealt with the townsfolk. Unfortunately, most of the equipment we received from that Emburian merchant was cleaned out by others. I’m afraid you’ll just have to make use of the gear you have.”

“Not a problem,” Lord Ros replied. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Lord Gremmelt pursed his lips, taking in a heavy breath. His blue eyes swirled with sorrow. “I don’t think I need to remind you that Benard’s Festival is upon us. I’m sure he would understand—the mission comes first—but if you can make it back before Chaos gives way to Greed, I would like to have you present for the ceremony.”

“I will make haste,” Lord Ros replied with a nod of his head. “Benard was a brother, as was Rupert and Divas. And though I hardly knew Taucki, he was as much my kin as the others.”

“Don’t load the boy up with pains before the hunt,” Isle told Gremmelt. “Now”— he turned his head sharply towards Ros—”go out and show everyone we made the right choice. You’re a Lord, it's time you prove it.”

“I will do my best,” Lord Ros replied before heading out.

He emerged from the keep out into the courtyard, eagerly looking for a few good blades to join him for his hunt. Almost everyone out here was on the hunt in Waldenhauf. Which means none of them can come with me. Great. Wait… is that?

Ros spotted a man-wolf pair he knew to be Gilt and Arren. He considered him for a moment, recounting his interactions with the man. I’d rather not, but I have little choice.

He crossed the courtyard to greet them. They sat in the grass, backs to the wall, watching two others spar in the training pit.

“Morning, Gilt,” Ronan Ros said as he approached him. “I’m leading a witch hunt, and looking for worthy blades to join me. What say you?” Gilt looked up at Ros and shrugged his shoulders.

“I suppose it’s time I stretch my legs,” he said as he stood up. He stretched his whole body upward and rotated his arms one at a time. “We leaving now?”

“Not quite,” Lord Ros replied. “First we—”

Gilt turned and threw up his hand. “Arren and I will be outside the keep when you're done,” he said before walking away.

Lord Ros let out a heavy sigh. I had a feeling that would happen. Well, I can’t let it put me down. I have to find two more, and who knows how that’s going to go. He shook his head before heading off into the barracks. There he found Kangee sitting on his rack, shining his steel halberd, his crow perched on his shoulder.

Kangee… Well, he is certainly a dark horse if there ever were one. Wild War veteran—wait! No. Wildland War criminal. That’s right! He was responsible for what happened to the Blackfeather tribe in the east. And despite that, Lord Gremmelt still speaks highly of him. How bad can it be? If he was as bloodthirsty as the stories, they would have never let him out of Gol’Falag.

Ros took a deep breath, slowly exhaling it through his nose. Come now, Ronan, put your best foot forward, and go ask that man to join you!

“Greetings,” he said as he walked up. “I’m leading a hunt in Waldenhauf and am looking for worthy blades. Would you care to join?” Kangee looked up from his work at the mention of Waldenhauf.

“Waldenhauf?” he asked, and Ronan Ros nodded. Kangee gave an uncomfortably long pause before simply saying, “Sure.”

He got up, prepared his bag, threw on his leather jerkin and cloak, grabbed his halberd and sword, and was ready to step off when a figure walking past them stopped and crept close.

“Off to hunt?” asked the woman. She wore a sinister smile and swept her ashen locks to the right side of her face. She stared over at Kangee, the two locking their eyes.

Ithena the Wildfire. And I thought the other two were bad. Still, what choice do I have? Most others are on a hunt, those that remain are injured. Benard wouldn’t have complained, and neither shall I.

“Glad you asked!” Lord Ros replied. “Yes, would you care to join?”

Ithena had a sharp and rancorous look in her eyes. “Of course. My last fun was cut short”—she folded her arms, never looking away from Kangee—”and I look forward to getting back to it.”

“Perfect!” Lord Ros replied as he eyed them both. They were hardly paying attention to him, neither had even looked his way. “If you have everything ready, I am heading over to speak with our companions that encountered the Witch. If not, you can wait outside with Gilt until we leave.”

“I’ll tag along,” Ithena replied as she finally turned towards Lord Ros.

“Go on ahead,” Kangee told them. He walked away, feeding his crow a small piece of bread before disappearing into the keep.

Ros and Ithena returned to the courtyard in search of Ra'Selas. They spotted him at a wheel grinder sharpening his sword.

He noticed the two of them as they approached. Lifting his blade from the grinder, he stopped pedaling it with his foot and rested the sword on his lap.

“Lord Ros,” Ra'Selas said politely as the two closed in on him. He shot Ithena a scornful glance before adding, “Wildfire,” as acknowledgement to her.

Ithena smirked and folded her arms. “Eagle of Scrydell.” The two stared into each other's eyes like they were mortal enemies about to engage in a duel.

“Greetings,” Lord Ros said loudly to break the tension. He smiled in hopes they would reciprocate, but after neither looked his way, it faded to a half-frown. “From my understanding, you saw the Witch in Waldenhauf firsthand. I was hoping you could answer a few of my questions.”

“I’ll answer what I can,” Ra'Selas replied, breaking his gaze from Ithena.

“First, how long was the Witch's hair?” Ronan Ros asked.

Ra'Selas squinted his eyes in confusion. “It was beneath a hood, I never got a good look.”

“Ohh, too bad, too bad. What about her fingernails? Did she have them cut?” Ros looked up at Ra'Selas in between writing notes. “Or perhaps she is a nail biter?”

“I was too busy looking at her eyes to tell.” Ra'Selas slightly shook his head.

“Ohh, and what color were those?” Ronan Ros asked.

“They glowed yellow. It’s how I knew she served Doubt,” Ra'Selas replied.

“Tall, short, something in between?” Lord Ros was scribbling down everything that was said, even adding random notes and thoughts along the side of Ra'Selas answers.

“Tall and gaunt. We believe she was an elf afterall.” Ra'Selas was caught off guard by the questions. He tried to answer them the best he could, despite thinking most of them were pointless. Nearly ten minutes elapsed before Lord Ros nodded his head and thanked Ra'Selas for his time.

The two left him and crossed to the awning where several Witch Hunters were seated at tables eating. Spotting Naja beside Akecheta, Lord Ros made his way to them.

“Greetings,” he said as he approached, Ithena slowly trailing behind.

“Good morning,” replied Naja and Akecheta. They were both eating soup from bowls and each held a piece of bread in their hand.

“I am leading a witch hunt in Waldenhauf. Is there any insight you have that might be helpful?” Lord Ros asked.

Naja paused for a moment to consider the question. “Be wary of the town Elder and captain of the militia. They lied to us when we first arrived, and though the truth eventually did come out, things could have been smoother.”

“And what punishment did you give them?” asked Ithena. She stepped up to the table, staring down at Naja as if she were scolding a child.

“Punishment was unnecessary,” Naja replied, setting down her piece of bread and returning the cold stare she was receiving.

“Hah! Let him try that with us and I guarantee it will be the last lie he ever tells a Witch Hunter.” She folded her arms and wore a haughty smile. “Honestly, you should have at least taken a finger for the lie. I would have taken two, one for the lie, one for the audacity.”

“It's Witch Hunters like you that make the townsfolk lie in the first place,” Naja replied.

Sensing the hostility growing between the two of them, Lord Ros clapped his hands together in front of him to break their gazes. “Well, if that is all, then, we shall be on our way.” He smiled at them. With a turn towards Ithena he said, “Come, the others are waiting.”

Ithena held her gaze a moment longer before breaking away and following after Lord Ros.