I stepped into the old wooden long house, the rain pouring down ferociously beating the stone roads and wooden rooftops. I had barely peeled away my hood as I shut the door. Letting the noise of the outside be drowned out behind these very walls. Even back then this home of ours was sturdy, resilient, it had faced thirty years of heavy strengths and burdens but still held up stronger than the city walls. With candles, torches and finally a fire alight, I let the heat warm my cold calloused hands as I sat in my old wooden chair.

  The fire cracked and hissed, embers spitting out from it like venom, but I stared into it. I don’t know what I was thinking about at the time, only knowing that my mind had wandered off as the flames licked the walls of the chimney. They danced wildly, fighting back the cold that tried to claw its way in. Yet just when the heat had finally filled the room, its warmth wrapped tightly around me, I heard three loud bangs. I had thought it was a sign from outside, or maybe the window’s covers, maybe even a carriage wheel from all the wind. Yet I heard it again, this time louder. It seemed desperate, the hard bangs even pierced through the muffled rain.

  “Hello!” a voice cried out loudly, “is anybody there?!”

  Back then, many poor mothers or fathers would come and darken my door, some offering jobs, others small services. Yet none would pay, those who did offered all manner of things. I had half the mind to ignore it until I heard them once more.

  “Please! It's a matter of state and emergency!” they promptly stated.

  It was enough to motivate me at least, to pull me from my warm fire and let in another dash of seething cold. I stood up, hearing a gentle creak from my chair as I walked on to the door. Unlocking and bolting the thing I pulled it open.

  What stood in front of me was a man far from ordinary. He wore a fine cloak, made up of linen wool felt locked onto him by a gold coat of arms used as a clasp. The supple gray lining the white as it was soaked through by the storm. His hood covered his face partially, yet their voice was soft.

  “You are Gunther?” they sounded surprised, their clover colored eyes looking me over.

  Whether they were disappointed would only have to be measured by what they said next.

  “Yes, I am.” I said matter of factly, I held no contention for honed words or even formal greetings back then. “You are well dressed for someone unlucky enough to be caught out in the rain.” I studied him in silence.

  “I am aware of that fact, but I couldn’t be seen here.” they replied, “if anyone saw me at all it would be problematic, but here especially would be disastrous for myself and all involved.” they trailed off.

  “And why is that?” I questioned them, knowing full well what was to come.

  “I’d like to hire you and your band.” They had finally said, a simple word that would always ring in my ear whenever I heard it.

  I rolled my eyes at them, stepping from the door as I invited them. Cautiously they stepped inside, their walk was slow and meticulous. Each step they took was timid and I couldn’t help but notice their wandering eyes covering the entryway then finally being transfixed onto the fire. Once I shut the door and locked it back I had turned to see them already in front of it, letting the heat hold them now too.

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  “Now what is it you want to hire me for?” I sighed, wanting to get this over with.

  The idea of another stranger offering something for a small deed had both annoyed me and intrigued me all at once.

  The figure turned to me, their face partially illuminated by the fire.

  “Forgive me, the cold numbed both my manners and my fingers both.” they said, removing their hood.

  It was a woman who stood now near the flames, her hair a bright blonde akin to the sun. with her face being almost featureless having a mole on her cheek but being bright and youthful.

  “I came here as an envoy, requesting that you assist in an investigation.” She had started, her proposal already starting to falter onto my ears.

  “An investigation?” I already doubted, “I’m not well known for my diplomatic skills ma’am, neither are the men that worked with me.” I told her as I walked back to my chair, “we fight cutthroats, brigands, save the lives of valued nobles.”

  “I’m well aware,” she interrupted, giving me a sigh. Her eyes trailed back over the fire watching the flames dance madly. “Did you see her? The farm girl that had entered the city?” she asked.

  “I have,” I answered coldly, moving to toss another log onto the flames. watching the fire swallow it in a powerful gulp. “Nearly everyone had been talking about it all day. I couldn’t even find any work because of it.” I added.

  “Her name was Lavera from Janiq,” the woman informed me, “she had two brothers, a sister, and two cousins that went with her and her family to the northern colonies.”

  I froze, even after hearing all I had heard that day these details were never said. Not a word was mentioned about her name, her family. Not even siblings. Such detail did not find itself lost on me. So I listened, hanging on every word.

  “She told us of how they’d hoped to find success in the pale north, then how that hope turned to blood and chaos.” she continued, “she spoke of how she heard all of her family massacred. But could only hear the thing that did it, never truly seeing it.”

  Her words lingered on me for a moment, the thought already in the air yet I was still dense enough to ask.

  “So she watched her whole family die?”

  The woman closed her eyes, as if taking a breath would settle those thoughts.

  “In gruesome detail.” she answered, the pain in her voice was palpable. “She had walked from there to here all alone. Four months on end, not resting nor stopping.” she explained, trying to hide it but I knew just from watching her.

  I felt how she felt, imagining such carnage on a battlefield or a skirmish line is one thing, yet seeing the blood of your kin flow in a brand new home is another tragic stab in the back.

  “And so she’s seeking retribution? I would be in her position.”

  “No!” she said, her head whipping back as she stared at me with a wrathful heat. The fire leaping high in a wrathful hiss. “She wants peace, but we want to ensure it never happens again.” She seemed about to burst from the idea alone. A word that seemed to sting from what I said. “But we cannot come to a decision. Neither can we be united on this decision.” she had let slip.

  I eased my way back down into my seat, “so you represent one of the families that were at the meeting? The one in the High Chambers at the Keep?” I had put it together.

  While she was hesitant to answer, her silence had already been loud enough to answer for me.

  “So even they are wondering what to do?” I shook my head with a tinge of disappointment.

  “We know of what to do, but some refuse to do what is needed. To protect rather than sacrifice.” she replied. “The Ranni are hesitant, they want to isolate the Northern Colonies, to abandon everyone who may be threatened up there.”

  “And I take it the Vanir wishes to send a force to fix the problem?” I cracked, “well then what do you need a mercenary for? Let alone a large band of them?” I wondered.

  Silence filled the room, only being broken apart by the light crackles of the thick wood in the flaming inferno. Her stern but passionate look mirrored the flame as it rose strongly and burned brightly.

  “Its not that we cannot, it's that we would be blamed or ridiculed, or worse.” she answered, yet still leaving so many things unsaid. “Some of the Vanir families insisted on soldiers…so I came to you.”

  Her words were heavy weights that rested on my shoulders, a request that wouldn’t be taken any more lightly than any of the tasks I had taken before. I could have turned her down right then and there, meddling in political affairs was always a risk. Knowing what I know now, it was worse than a gambit or heavy gamble. I don’t remember what went through my mind that night, maybe a small amount of empathy had wormed its way into my soul. But I remember the next words as clear as day.

  “So Gunther of the Lone Claw’s.” she addressed me formally, as if a rehearsed opening before starting her proposition. “I, Eilina Nova of the Vanir families, request your company’s service.”