Back to the village

The sun had already set, casting long shadows across the village as Thabis stared up at the darkening sky. Sleep eluded him that night. His mind was racing, consumed with thoughts of how to cover up the events that had taken place. The rebellion, the deaths, the chaos—it all needed to be buried, and he had to find a way to do it without drawing suspicion.

After hours of tossing and turning on the hard, uneven floor of the house where he had sought refuge, an idea finally took shape in his mind. He would set the village on fire and place the blame on Ironfust Dennis, a notorious local bandit who had once tried to rob them on their way to the village. The bandit's reputation would lend credibility to the story, and the kingdom would be left sifting through conflicting reports, unsure of who to trust.

As dawn approached, Thabis forced himself up from the floor, his body aching from the lack of rest. Stepping outside, he was immediately hit by the acrid smell of charred wood. The previous fire that had ravaged the village during the rebellion had left behind a haunting reminder of the destruction that had occurred. The smell clung to everything, a bitter, smoky scent that lingered in the cool morning air.

He looked around at the village, now a shell of its former self. The once lively streets were quiet, save for the distant sounds of people preparing to leave. For the first time in days, Thabis allowed himself a moment of introspection. He had been running on adrenaline, his focus solely on survival and the mission. Now, with the immediate threat passed, the weight of what he had done began to settle on his shoulders. He was a trained scout, skilled in stealth and reconnaissance, not a commander burdened with the lives of others. The responsibilities had grown tiresome, and he longed for the simplicity of his old life.

The village was beginning to stir to life as people hurriedly packed their belongings onto small wagons. They moved with purpose, driven by a shared sense of urgency. The decision had been made to harvest the wheat before they left—there was no reason to leave it behind when it could provide sustenance for their journey. The golden stalks of wheat, swaying gently in the morning breeze, were a stark contrast to the blackened ruins around them.

Thabis made his way through the village, heading towards the makeshift stable where Thornton was tending to a horse. The animal was a black steed, sleek and powerful, with a mane that gleamed in the early light. Thornton had stolen it from Lord Hammond, who, in his haste to flee, had left it behind. The horse made Thornton look even more imposing, as if he were a dark knight straight out of legend.

"Nice horse," Thabis commented, nodding in approval.

Thornton smirked, patting the horse's neck. "It's a fine beast. Hammond won't be needing it anymore, so I thought I'd help myself."

Thabis chuckled but quickly sobered. "We're leaving soon. Make sure everything's ready."

Thornton nodded, his expression turning serious. "Understood. I'll rally the men."

With that, Thabis continued on his way, his thoughts now turning to Elia. They hadn't spoken much since they arrived at the village, both of them caught up in the chaos that had unfolded. He made his way to her house, the path familiar to him now. As he approached, he spotted her little sister playing with the neighbor's children, their laughter a small ray of hope amidst the ruins. The sight filled him with a sense of relief—despite everything, some semblance of normalcy remained.

"Thank the gods, they're alright," he murmured to himself, offering the children a reassuring smile before stepping inside.

Elia was sitting at the table, eating her breakfast. The simple meal of bread and cheese looked almost out of place in the dimly lit room, as if it belonged to a different time. She looked up as Thabis entered, a smile touching her lips.

"Good morning, Thabis. How are you holding up?"

Her question caught him off guard. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. "You know, the usual. Just a little excited—I can't wait to head back."

Elia's smile widened, the tiredness in her eyes momentarily lifting. "I'm glad. You know, I never thanked you for everything you've done. I can see why Robert trusts you so much."

Thabis felt a flush of warmth spread across his face. He quickly looked away, hoping to hide the blush that had crept up his cheeks. Her words meant more to him than he was willing to admit. He had always strived to be useful to Robert, believing wholeheartedly in his leader's vision for the future.

"You don't have to thank me," he said, his voice gruff to cover his embarrassment. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."

Elia reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Still, it means a lot to me—and to everyone else."

Thabis gave a curt nod, not trusting himself to say more. After a moment, he gently pulled away. "I need to make sure everything's in order before we leave. Take care of yourself, Elia."

"You too, Thabis," she replied, her voice soft but sincere.

Leaving Elia's house, Thabis steeled himself for the task ahead. There was no time to waste. He moved quickly through the village, making sure that most of the people were evacuated before he put his plan into action. As the last of the wagons left, he set the first torch to one of the remaining houses. The flames caught quickly, spreading from building to building, consuming everything in their path.

The villagers who had stayed behind to help watched with heavy hearts as their homes were reduced to ashes. Tears glistened in some eyes, while others stared stoically at the destruction, their expressions unreadable. It was a painful sight, but there was also a sense of liberation—a final severing of ties with the past. They were free now, free to forge a new future, unburdened by the ghosts of what had been.

Thabis had strategically placed the bodies of some of the guards at the village entrance, arranging them in a way that suggested a desperate last stand. He had also instructed Thornton to bring the bodies of the bandits they had killed earlier, placing them among the slain guards. It was, in his mind, the perfect setup—one that would keep the kingdom's investigators off their trail.

With everything in place, Thabis signaled for the remaining villagers to begin their march. A procession of 400 or so people, all seeking a better life, began the long journey back to Robert's village. Thabis took the lead, his eyes scanning the path ahead, always alert for potential dangers.

The journey was anything but easy. Keeping track of so many people took a toll on Thabis, the constant stops and starts frayinghis nerves. Every time someone got stuck in the thick underbrush or lost their footing on the uneven ground, it felt like another brick added to the already heavy load he carried. He found himself wishing more than once that he had taken a horse before everyone else—his legs ached, and the fatigue from his sleepless night weighed down on him like a physical burden.

By the time they reached the halfway point—a lake surrounded by dense forest—Thabis was utterly spent. The shimmering water provided a welcome relief, and he called for a short break. The villagers gratefully dropped their packs and collapsed by the water's edge, some immediately cupping their hands to drink, others simply sitting in silence, lost in their thoughts.

Thabis found a spot by the lake where he could sit quietly for a moment. He pulled out his satchel and drank greedily from his water flask, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. The exhaustion was creeping up on him fast, and he knew he needed to keep his wits about him, especially with so many people depending on him.

As he sat there, trying to muster the energy to keep moving, he noticed the bartender from the village—a burly man with a kind face—approaching him. Thabis hadn't had a chance to speak with him since the rebellion, though he remembered the man's efforts in calming the panicked villagers during the chaos.

"Thabis, isn't it?" the bartender asked, sitting down next to him. "I don't think we've had a proper introduction. Name's Richard."

"Richard," Thabis repeated, nodding. "I remember you. Thanks for keeping things under control back there."

Richard shrugged, a modest smile on his lips. "Just did what I could. It's a miracle we got through that mess alive."

Before Thabis could reply, a distant, eerie howl cut through the air, making his blood run cold. The villagers around them froze, eyes wide with fear as the howling grew louder, more distinct. It was the unmistakable sound of wolves—many of them, and they were close.

Panic began to ripple through the group, and Thabis shot to his feet, scanning the treeline for any sign of movement. Thornton was already off his horse, his hand on the hilt of his sword, eyes narrowed as he gauged the threat.

"Everyone, stay calm!" Thabis shouted, trying to keep the fear from creeping into his voice. "We've handled worse. We'll get through this."

He quickly gathered the remaining guards—only about fifteen men, weary and battle-worn from their previous encounter. They formed a tight circle around the villagers, weapons drawn, ready to defend against the approaching danger.

The wolves emerged from the shadows of the forest, their eyes glowing like embers in the fading light. There were at least thirty of them, lean and hungry, driven by a desperate need to feed. Thabis knew this wasn't going to be easy. The wolves were ferocious, and with so many villagers to protect, the odds were against them.

Thornton was the first to strike, launching a barrage of ice spikes from his outstretched hand. The spikes whistled through the air, each one finding its mark and taking down a wolf with deadly precision. But the pack was relentless, undeterred by the loss of their brethren.

With a fierce battle cry, Thornton charged into the fray, his sword a blur as he cut down the wolves with brutal efficiency. The guards followed his lead, forming a solid wall of shields and spears to keep the wolves at bay. It was a desperate fight, each moment a struggle to hold the line against the relentless assault.

Thabis took a position at the back, using his bow to pick off any wolves that broke through the front lines. His arrows flew true, striking down wolves that threatened to reach the villagers. The fight that could have easily ended in disaster turned into a surprisingly swift victory, thanks to the combined efforts of Thabis, Thornton, and the guards.

When the last wolf fell, the forest grew eerily silent. The ground was littered with the bodies of the wolves, their once fierce eyes now dull and lifeless. Thabis wiped the sweat from his brow, his heart still pounding from the adrenaline. They had survived, but the ordeal had taken its toll.

"We need to move," Thabis said, his voice hoarse. "There could be more of them. Let's get out of here before anything else decides to come after us."

The group didn't need any further encouragement. They quickly gathered their things and resumed their journey, moving with renewed urgency. Thabis decided to switch places with Thornton, allowing him to take the lead while he rode the black steed. The feeling of sitting in the saddle, letting the horse carry him forward, was a welcome relief from the strain of walking.

The rest of the journey passed in a blur of exhaustion and determination. The villagers pushed on, driven by the promise of a new life awaiting them in Robert's village. The sight of the old goblin cave, now a familiar landmark, signaled that they were close to their destination. The thought of finally reaching safety spurred them on, giving them the strength to push through the final leg of the journey.

When they finally crested the last hill and the village came into view, Thabis felt a surge of pride. Robert's village had changed since they had last been here. It was no longer just a small settlement struggling to survive—it had grown, both in size and in spirit. New homes had been built, fields of crops were ready to be harvested, and a sturdy wall now surrounded the perimeter, complete with a watchtower.

As they approached, Richard's eyes widened in amazement. "This... this is incredible," he murmured. "I made the right choice."

Thabis couldn't help but smile at the man's reaction. "Welcome to your new home," he said, the words filling him with a sense of fulfillment. "You'll meet the lord of this place soon enough."

As they entered the village, a young man with a commanding presence walked toward them. His aura was unmistakable—this was Robert, the leader who had orchestrated their escape and built this haven for them all. Richard could only stare in awe, taken aback by the strength and resolve that seemed to radiate from him.

"Welcome back," Robert said, his voice carrying a sense of authority that immediately put everyone at ease. "The lord will be with us in a moment. In the meantime, Sabas here will take you to our administrator, Eugene. He'll see to your needs."

Sabas, a stout man with a friendly demeanor, gestured for the villagers to follow him. "Come on, then. Eugene's got his hands full, but he'll take care of you."

As the villagers formed a line in front of the village hall, Thabis couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of Eugene, who looked like he was about to faint from the sheer amount of work awaiting him. Robert, standing beside Thabis, laughed as well, the sound light and full of camaraderie.

"That lazy lord of mine always finds a way to make me do all the paperwork," Eugene grumbled, but there was no real bitterness in his tone—just a weary acceptance of his role.

With the population problem now under control, Robert could finally turn his attention to the other tasks that awaited him. The village was growing, and with it, the challenges they faced. But for now, they could all take a moment to breathe, to appreciate how far they had come.