Joining the War (1/2)
After Freyya leaves that mortal plane, we briefly see her floating high above the earth with her spear and lantern in hand. The world down below looks like a tiny marble from the distance she's at as she floats in the middle of black, empty space.
Of course, she's only waiting for her ride to come along and pick her up and take her back to the Death King's capital - the world she lives on.
While she was waiting, she thinks back on her brief conversation with Haalfrin, and she gives a devious chuckle. "That was pretty smooth of me, right?" she laughs. "Of course, I didn't make it clear to the human that the spell I gave him was invented BY dragons and FOR dragons. Eh heh."
Dragons have extremely durable bodies, after all, and their techniques are designed with that in mind.
If a human even uses that spell for more than a moment or two, they'll rip their own bodies apart. Even if they cut the spell's connection off in time, it'll have left the user in such a state of shock that they usually just fall unconscious immediately.
This is exactly why Freyya thinks that her plan is genius. "Haalfrin will use it in a battle, and he'll either get himself killed or knock himself out cold… and his enemy will kill him then."
In Freyya's mind, getting one little human to die in a battle is such a simple matter that she hardly puts thought into her plan.
... Now that she's thinking about it after the fact…
"Eh… Actually, that was a pretty bad plan. He could easily just practice with the spell, learn its flaw, and just never use it… I mean, any experienced mage would be able to tell that using my gift to Haalfrin is a bad idea."
Her shoulders droop in disappointment. "Oh well. He's gotten a lot of youth back, so his appointment with Das has been postponed by 3 or 4 hundred years. I've got plenty of time to figure something else out…"
"Still, I wouldn't complain if I get lucky and my first plan works."
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What Freyya doesn't account for is that Haalfrin already knows everything about how the spell works, seeing as how her magic scroll inserted all the details directly into his skull.
Because he doesn't need to practice the spell, and because he doesn't know any mages personally, he won't necessarily discover the hidden trap in her gift though.
…On the other hand… Haalfrin's already decided he's never going to use it anyway.
Haalfrin just looks down at the torn scroll (which none of the others can see, for whatever reason), and he thinks, "Hmm... I have nothing to compare this spell to, but since a goddess gave it to me, it can't be simple; rather, it's probably REALLY powerful."
He crosses his arms and huffs stubbornly, "I'm trying to get myself killed in battle. Why would I ever use an overpowered spell like this? I don't want all my fights to end so easily."
The unlearned mage cups his chin with one hand and thinks slyly, "Though… if this really is a divine spell… I can probably attract some trouble with it…"
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The trip to Uthraal city is scheduled to take about 3 months, and they'd be stopping by plenty of cities along the way.
Most nobles more significant than a tiny baron from a tiny village would have a mage related to them or employed by them, so Haalfrin is hoping to trade the goddess' technique for something with a power level suitable for an average mortal, not a goddess.
Unfortunately, there are no mages on the way. Sure, they cross several nobles, and the nobles have mages that belong to their houses… but all those mages are at war under the orders of the king; none of these mages are on convenient missions across the countryside that just HAPPENS to be near Haalfrin, like that "Fisco" fellow.
Well… who knows? Maybe there IS a mage sitting around in one of the towns… but Haalfrin can't search these places in depth, since he has to keep up with his caravan.
'Oh well,' he accepts, 'There's definitely plenty of mages out in the army… Of course… when they learn I have a highly advanced technique, they'd probably try to kill me for it. I wouldn't have my clan's help this time, so I'll probably die, right?'
He looks down the road with a firm look and nods. 'That sounds like a plan, then!'
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The caravan leader Haalfrin is traveling with is quite experienced, and he took the rain, muddy roads, and frequent encounters with bandits into account when he said they'd arrive in 3 months.
In fact, they stop at a town just outside of Uthgraal the night before their arrival. They'd normally have pressed on a few more hours through the dark so that they could reach their destination. However, because they're ahead of schedule, the caravan leader lets them all bunk up in comfortable beds for an extra night.
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Once they arrive at the inn and prepare to spend their last night with each other as a group, most of the guards, employees, and random people who paid for safe passage all congregate in the previously empty inn, and they all start chatting and joking with each other.
This IS their last night together, and some of them won't be sticking around for the return trip. It's nice to say goodbye, right?
Haalfrin, however, doesn't care about saying goodbyes to anyone, and he thinks that staying up late into the night on a crappy wooden bench is a waste of time. So, he bids them all farewell and says, "I'm going to bed now."
"Come on, Haalfrin!" one of the guards protests, "This is our last night together. You can't just go to bed NOW."
"Don't mind me. I'm tired." Haalfrin steps up the creaky stairs and waves at them. "Have fun, guys."
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It's pretty late in the summer right now, so Haalfrin isn't surprised to see that none of the beds have any blankets on them.
The first thing he does when he gets inside is walk to the far side of the room and open the shutters. It's far too humid in here, and he'd like some air circulation to at least eliminate some of the stinky, sweaty smell in here.
With that out of the way, he takes off his leather armor and climbs into the bed farthest from the door. He hugs his precious sword tightly and starts drifting off to sleep.
...
Maybe it's because Haalfrin has a restless mind, but the loud, rowdy sounds coming from downstairs is keeping the man up. He hears banging, laughter, and disjointed singing from down below.
Most people would be annoyed at how out of tune and chaotic the singing is, but it only makes Haalfrin feel nostalgic. He remembers going on countless voyages with his clan brothers over his lifetime, so these sounds are all too familiar to him.
Because of this, Haalfrin can distinctly tell when people are getting drunk; drunk people sound different.
'Oh,' Haalfrin remembers, 'I forgot. Boss said that he'd share a barrel of ale with us if we made the trip ahead of schedule. I was looking forward to that...'
'It sounds like they're having a lot of fun down there...," Haalfrin turns over on his bed and frowns. 'Should I head down?'
Haalfrin had always been a person who likes to enjoy himself, so the idea of sitting alone in a dark room while everyone else are enjoying themselves...
In the end, Haalfrin can't bring himself to get up. Rather than hearing old Alastan drinking songs, he hears Kareen tunes in his mind. Rather than stories told of strangers he doesn't know, he gets lost in memories of his own stories, and his clan brothers' stories.
In that moment, his impulse to head down and enjoy himself dies. Instead, he lays flat on his bed and stares at the ceiling. His mind wanders through old memories until he bores himself to sleep.
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The next morning, Haalfrin is the only one with a clear mind, so he's the first to be up and ready to go. Since the caravan leader accounted for everyone getting up late, Haalfrin ends up waiting on their main wagon for a few hours by himself - watching the sunrise.
After everyone is ready to go, they make the rest of their trip and arrive at Uthgraal by noon.
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After the Alsa'ree "savages" from the north invaded over 2 years ago and took all the border cities, Uthgraal had become the new frontier in the Alasta Kingdom. A lot of civilians had fled deeper into their country, and a lot of their houses had been appropriated into barracks to keep the soldiers warm.
So, as Haalfrin and the merchant he's guarding stroll through the city's main street, they look around and mostly see grim soldiers off to the side. At least it isn't winter right now, else the city streets would be vacant and the faces more miserable.
Some of the soldiers see the convoy headed towards the old market district, and a small crowd of them rush up, attempting to buy some ale right out the barrel.
Unfortunately, the merchant has to turn them down, since any form of alcohol is strictly rationed by the army, and the soldiers aren't allowed to buy it on their own.
Haalfrin and the other guards have to physically beat some of the off-duty soldiers aside since their boss doesn't want to get in trouble with the army. Besides, the merchant already has a pre-arranged contract with one of the logistics officers here.
After they arrive at the market district, Haalfrin and the others unload the heavy barrels while one of the Captains here oversees it all with a checklist in one hand – probably recording the incoming supplies.
'I'd spent too so much time as a raider,' Haalfrin wonders, 'that I forget sometimes how organized these large armies are.'
Once the cargo is almost unloaded, Haalfrin does a quick bow to the merchant. He'd talked enough with his companions on the way up that they all knew he was wanting to join the army, so they all bid goodbye politely before turning away.
Haalfrin then walks up to the logistics officer before he leaves, and he does a quick solute – the way he remembers doing when he was younger.
"Yes?" the officer turns around and asks.
"Where would I go," Haalfrin asks the officer, "to sign up? I want to join the army."
With the hot summer air, Haalfrin's sleeves are rolled up now, revealing all the Kareen tattoos he's gotten over his youthful years. Not everyone would know, but this officer happened to live near the coast; he knows how to recognize the Kareen's mark.
Staring at the white swirling patterns, the logistics officer appears surprised. 'Why's a Kareen was here by himself?' he wonders. 'Don't they travel around in clans? Besides, isn't this young man a little too pale to be Kareen? Maybe he's of mixed blood?'
The officer puts down his notebook and looks Haalfrin dead in the eyes. "This is our war, boy. Just go back to your land."