One Moo'r Plow

Home was not as I had left it.

There was a dread in my stomach as I stood and surveyed what was mine. The walls were pierced through in spots, burnt in others. A sentinel cautiously peaked over the wall and waved for the gates to open.

Something, someone had come to test the farm while the master was away.

I could smell burnt wood in the air, faint whiffs of old blood present as I stalked beneath the gate and entered my home.

Much was burnt. The stubble of harvested crops was burned away, and several buildings stood torched. I stood still, overwhelmed by all this.

I needed answers. Now.

Workers milled about the burnt buildings as I approached, my face tight. The grain silos looked burnt from the outside, an examination that made my heart plummet. Our stores for the winter had been piled here. If we had lost those, things would be dire indeed.

Ishila approached, summoned by one of the workers.

“Garek.” She sounded, looked and smelled relieved all at once. “Finally.”

And she did. I stood and listened as the half-orc went into excruciating detail of the happenings that had taken place while I was absent.

No more than a day after I had left, the harassment started. Arrows fired from the woods without so much as a glimpse of an archer. The guards had went forth once to try and find the attack's source and never returned.

Le’rish had returned the second day with a report, been informed of it and immediately gone hunting. She had yet to find anything. The guards were all but forced off the walls soon after, unable to see what was shooting at them. Soon after, the fire arrows started to fly. The workers had been commanded to abandon all else and stand ready to put out any blazes.

And they were plentiful.

Through the days, the nights, and all hours in-between, Ishila had labored to literally dampen the damage wrought to the farm. Le’rish had grown increasingly more frustrated, tearing through the woods in her Apex form to find the source of all this. She found nothing. No scent, no trace. It was as if the arrows came from all sides, yet left naught behind.

Valencia’s smile grew bloodthirsty at my side as she drank in the details, her arms crossed. Malice might not have roiled off of her physically anymore, but it was still present in her features. Painted upon her smile. A hunger that could little be satisfied save for hunting prey.

A smile that faded away to a frown when told the attacks had stopped a handful of days ago. Coincidentally, when we had destroyed the horde.

“Something reeks,” I spoke. “The stench of conspiracy is heavy in the air.”

It did explain why Le’rish had not joined us at the fortress. Busy chasing shadows and trying to preserve the farm itself.

“Pa’ and Ma’ both headed into the dungeon before it all started.” Ishila answered my query as to why they hadn’t helped. Not that I wanted to rely on Velton’s protection to keep my farm running, but he was available and I would make use of that resource.

“Any idea why?’

“I can tell you that.” Valencia interrupted, teeth bared into a smile as she leaned against the silo’s scorched wall. “Though you might not be happy to hear it all.”

“Well?” I gestured, eyebrows raised.

‘Same reason the dwarves have gone marching into the depths there.” She brushed away some dust from her shoulder, obviously enjoying the suspense.

“Any day now.” Ishila grumbled.

“There’s a dragon egg somewhere in those depths.”

I had known that, yet I was somewhat proud that I could fake being shocked so well.

“I should know. Spent quite a while chasing it.”

“And why did you, of all people, give up?”

She pondered this, then shrugged.

“It kept moving.” The dreadknight casually tossed out. “I could see it through the space of the dungeon itself. Feel it’s slumbering energy through the walls. Yet every time I drew near, it shifted away.”

“And this implies?”

“The dungeon might, just might, in the smallest possibility, be crudely sentient.”

“But,” She held up one hand. “That’s an issue for someone else. For now, let’s focus on finding your phantom attacker.”

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This did explain why Velton, the dwarves, and everyone else held such an intense interest in the dungeon itself. If touched just a fragment of an egg had done so much to Le’rish, what power could a full egg itself yield? The dragon’s memories faintly shared with me through Le’rish seemed to imply calamitous amounts.

“There does not appear to be a phantom to find.” Ishila gestured tiredly. “The arrows stopped coming several days ago, and while the guards are still too cautious to go look, Le’rish hasn’t found anything.”

Now, it was my turn to recount what had happened. Night found us at the tree outside my lodge, the details being finely ground through as I explained everything to Ishila. Everything save for one small detail. The language that the champion I had spoken in, and our shared origins.

“You gave up your most powerful Skill for her?” She repeated, almost flabbergasted.

I understood her sentiment, truly. But I did not share it.

“I did, and I would do so again. I owed a debt, and that was how I chose to repay it.”

“Look, Garek. I know ya’ have a thing fer adoption’ strays and makin’ friends of ‘em.” Ishila sighed and swirled her cup of ale round, eyes shadowed by the firelight.

“But this one,” She pointed a single finger straight at Valencia’s relaxed form. “She’s trouble. An’ all of us know it.”

The dreadknight denied nothing, simply bared her teeth in a smile and pulled from her own mug.

“I don’t know what hooks she’s got in you, but mark my words there’s gon’ be nothin’ but trouble ahead of ya’.”

“Probably.”

“Your funeral.” She shrugged and got up. “I gotta head back home and grab some stuff from Pa’s farm. See you in the morning.”

With that, the orc headed off and we were left alone.

I watched her go and took another sip of my drink.

“So, what now?” She asked, still relaxed as could be. The dreadknight gazed around and surveyed all that was mine through the darkness, and for once, there was not scorn in her eye.

“Patch up the farm and go meet Londer, I suppose. Try to figure out how our phantom ambusher is. I’ve a sneaking suspicion I’ve run into them before. On the wrong end of their arrows.”

“And they remained alive?” She scoffed. “I’m surprised, Garek. For someone with such a soft side, you do have quite the tally of bodies left in your wake. Bandits, berserkers drunk on the system, monsters, Godlings, Godtouched.Enough to make me respect you.”

“Enough to excite me, even.”

That last comment I hung on to, then quietly pushed it aside and moved on to more important things.

I recounted the ambush to her, from the targetted soldiers to how easily the shafts had pierced my hide. All information she soaked up and nodded along to. It had happened and then faded from memory until now. One and done. And eventually, I had written it off as someone harassing the baron’s soldiers.

Now it had come unto my doorstep once more.

I felt perhaps a bit frustrated, then. I had just resolved one issue, only to be presented with another. Would this endless stream of problems ever end?

I was not a man who shrunk away at adversity, yet this had become somewhat tiresome. But, I reminded myself, every worthwhile dream was worth fighting for. And I would do just that. Forge onwards and handle whatever stepped into my path.

“The only people I’ve slain are those who have provoked me and mine. Threatened harm to what I treasure. And I would do so again.”

“I’ve killed for less than a cause.” The dreadknight spoke candidly. “You won’t hear me questioning another’s reason for doing the same.”

“And after this? Will you continue with that?”

“I haven’t decided just yet. I fought out of necessity, sure. But we both know I also fought for the love of it. For the joy of the battle. Those were the moments I felt most alive.”

“Live by the sword-”

“Die by it’s stroke. I know.” She cut me off. “That’s already happened.”

“Now, I aim to see where I might go from here.”

It felt strange really. That Valencia of all people was this close to me with no hostilities shown. There was still that deadly smile, that spark of malice in her eyes as she talked about the felling of her enemies. But that hate was softened, almost dulled.

Almost.

“I aim to fight you, Garek.”

“Why?” Was all I replied, arms crossed.

“You are strong. Brave.”

“Like every other wide-shouldered fool in this land.” I rebutted her.

“Smart. Good.” Valencia continued. “Too good for this world. A few days ago, I would have called your kindness weakness. Said you were a fool for it. I thought it of ten enough. Now, I live because of it. And I cannot stop thinking of it. Any other man in this world and I would have remained a corpse. Any man less selfless, and I would be gone.”

“You are the only one of your kind in this entire world.”

“And it excites me.”

I remained silent as these words came. The dreadknight was more correct than she knew.

“I want to fight you again. Just the two of us. No interruptions. No Apex swooping in to save you. Uninterrupted as we test our full strength against each other. Only then will I truly feel alive. I live for combat. I breathe for violence. But with you, I will make something special.”

Was..

Was she flirting with me?

This. This shocked me.

It quite frankly took me aback. I blinked and gripped my drink tight as Valencia leaned forward from across the fire, a smile on her face.

“Let me be frank, Garek.”

I had never been more prepared, somewhat excited and perhaps flustered for a moment in my life.

“I want you. You are the only one of your kind there will ever be in this world. You are strong. Resilient beyond reason. Stubborn in getting what you want. But you are not the only one set in their ways.”

Valencia stood, stepped over the fire and grabbed my shirt by the collar. There was no little excitement as she hauled me up and pointed towards my shadowed lodge.

“Inside. Now.”

I grabbed the dreadknight, threw her over my shoulder and obliged.

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