Chapter 16: Eastward Bound

Liam started to walk away, but Brad fell into step beside him. Before Liam could ask any of the questions swirling in his mind, Brad spoke, his voice low and discreet, so only Liam could hear.

"Your father," Brad said, "is a complicated man. He doesn't trust easily, especially not… unconventional methods. But he also understands the need for strength, for unity, especially now, with the Rubaks growing bolder."

Liam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"That demonstration," Brad continued, "it wasn't just for you, Liam. It was for them." He gestured with his head towards the departing warriors, the knights from other families, the Volgunder soldiers. "The rumors about you… the 'magic swordsman,' the 'weakling who got lucky'… they were spreading. Arthur needed to show them, to prove to them, that you were not a liability. That you were someone to be reckoned with, even if they didn't understand how you did it."

Liam was taken aback. He had thought the demonstration was solely for his father's benefit, a test of his own abilities. He hadn't considered the political implications, the need to maintain morale and confidence within the attack force.

"He… he did that for me?" Liam asked, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Brad shrugged, a slight, almost imperceptible movement. "He did it for the Volgunders," he said. "For Drakonia. But… yes, in a way, he also did it for you. He needed to know, and he needed them to know, that you were not a threat. That you were… useful."

They walked in silence for a few moments, the sounds of the dispersing crowd fading behind them.

Then, Brad spoke again, his voice softer now. "He's still afraid, Liam. Of the magic. Of what it might mean. Of what it might do to you. But…" he paused, "…he also sees your potential. He just… doesn't know how to express it."

Brad stopped walking and looked directly, and the tone of his voice was different.

"Just remember this Liam, you did well. You family needs you, your father needs you. Keep training hard, and who knows, maybe one day you will surpass all" and with that, he gently took his hand to carry him, his body show that it has reached it limits

The next day, the courtyard of Volgunder Keep was a whirlwind of controlled chaos. Liam stood near the stables, watching the preparations for the departure of the attack force. It was the morning after his grueling demonstration, and every muscle ached, a testament to the brutal reality of his training and the lingering chill of the ice magic.

He ran a hand over the smooth hilt of the mithril short sword, now sheathed at his side. The weapon still felt… right in his hand, a comforting weight, a silent promise of untapped potential. The shield, strapped to his back, felt less alien now. He had spent hours practicing with Brad, learning to move with it, to use it not just as a barrier, but as an extension of his own body.

"Liam."

He turned to see Brad approaching.

"Your father wishes to speak with you before you depart," Brad said, his voice low.

Liam nodded, his stomach twisting with apprehension.

He followed Brad through the throng of soldiers, knights, and servants. He saw Gareth, Anya, and Freya standing near a group of horses, their faces grim. They didn't meet his gaze.

He found Arthur Volgunder standing on the steps of the keep, overlooking the preparations. He was surrounded by his advisors, by the captains of the various contingents, all of them talking at once, their voices urgent, their faces grim.

Arthur saw Liam approaching and raised a hand, silencing the others. He dismissed them with a curt nod, then turned his full attention to his son.

"Liam," he said, his voice holding a neutral tone. "You have proven yourself… resourceful. You have earned your place in this force. But do not mistake this for approval. I still have… concerns."

Liam met his father's gaze, his own eyes steady. "I understand, Father."

"You will be under the command of Captain Karl Volgunder," Arthur continued, gesturing towards a tall, stern-faced man standing nearby. "He is a seasoned warrior, a veteran of countless battles against the Rubaks. He knows their tactics, their weaknesses. You will obey his orders without question. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father."

Arthur nodded, then turned to the man he had indicated. "Karl, this is my son, Liam. He will be joining your company."

Karl Volgunder was a stark contrast to Brad. Where Brad was lean and wiry, Karl was broad-shouldered and powerfully built, a mountain of a man with a thick, braided beard and eyes that seemed to bore into Liam's soul. He looked Liam up and down, his expression a mixture of skepticism and disdain. Six stars blazed on his tunic, a testament to his skill and experience. The other warriors gathered around – knights from various noble houses, seasoned Volgunder soldiers – were all clearly seasoned veterans, their tunics bearing at least four stars, and most boasting five or six. Brad, standing quietly beside Liam, was among the lowest ranked, a visual reminder of Liam's own precarious position.

"A barely two-star swordsman?" Karl said, his voice a low growl. "And one with… unorthodox methods? I have no need for green boys or those who dabble in forgotten arts in my company, Lord Volgunder."

Arthur's jaw tightened, but he remained calm. "Liam has proven himself capable, Karl. He has… unique abilities. He will be an asset, not a liability. I have given my word."

Karl grunted, clearly unconvinced. "As you wish, my lord," he said, his voice grudging. "But if he falters, if he endangers the mission, I will not hesitate to…" He let the sentence trail off, the unspoken threat hanging heavy in the air.

"Understood," Arthur said, his voice firm. He turned back to Liam. "And you, Liam, will obey Captain Volgunder's orders without question. You will not take unnecessary risks. You will not endanger yourself or others. You will control yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," Liam said, his voice low.

Arthur nodded, then turned to Brad. "Brad," Arthur said, his voice taking on a slightly different tone, a subtle shift that Liam couldn't quite decipher. "You will accompany Liam. You will be his… bodyguard. You will ensure his safety, and you will… report to me on his progress."

Brad bowed his head slightly. "As you command, my lord."

Liam felt a surge of relief at Brad's presence, but he also sensed a tension between Arthur and Brad, an unspoken conflict that he didn't understand.

"Very well," Arthur said, his voice regaining its usual authority. "The attack force departs at dawn. Be ready."

He turned and strode back into the keep, leaving Liam standing there with Karl and Brad.

Karl Volgunder looked at Liam, his expression still skeptical. "Don't think for a moment that you're special, boy," he said, his voice harsh. "You're just another soldier in this force. You'll follow orders, you'll fight when you're told to fight, and you'll die if you have to. Do you understand?"

Liam met his gaze. "I understand, Captain," he said, his voice firm, offering the traditional Volgunder salute.

Karl grunted, then turned and walked away, barking orders at his men.

Brad placed a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Come," he said, his voice low. "Let's make sure you're properly equipped."

They walked towards the barracks. Liam saw Gareth, Anya, and Freya.

"Liam," Gareth said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Be careful out there. Don't do anything stupid."

Anya nodded. "And try not to get yourself killed," she added, a hint of her usual sarcasm returning. "It would be… inconvenient."

Freya simply looked at him, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of emotions. "Good luck, brother," she said, her voice soft.

Liam managed a small smile. "Thanks," he said.

As dawn approached, the courtyard was alive with activity. Soldiers checked weapons, secured supplies, and said farewells. The air was thick with anticipation—fear and determination intertwined.

Brad approached Liam, his expression serious. "Remember everything I taught you," he said, his voice low. "Trust your instincts. And… be careful."

Liam nodded, his throat tight.

The order was given.

The gates of Volgunder Keep swung open, and the attack force began to move out, a long column of warriors marching towards the rising sun, towards the eastern wastes, towards the unknown. Liam rode with them, his short sword at his side, his shield on his back, his heart pounding. He was a Volgunder, a warrior, and a mage. And he would face whatever came, with courage, cunning, and the cold fire of his magic burning within him.