The mountains cast a shadow upon them the south. The journey north had been a grueling one, but they finally reached the other side. Frederick's dogs wouldn't dare venture too far from the seat of power back home. The half-brothers plop in the snow and take a minute to relax.

  "You didn't have to follow me, brother," the human half-brother said. He had fair skin, blonde hair, and a knight's physique. Cyrus was always his father's son and the anticipated hero of Windrest. The ladies sought after him and saw him as quite the catch, and to be fair, they were right.

  The other half-brother looks at Cyrus. Unlike the knightly heir, he was a half-orc with pale green skin, small tusks, and brown hair. Despite his natural predisposition to brawn, Alaric was more erudite. He looked at his half-brother and shook his head. "I didn't have to, but I wanted to. I wasn't going to let you run off only to die in the snow. Besides, I don't think Frederick has a very high opinion of me anyways." Cyrus laughed at that.

  Alaric looks around, only to see nothing. He gets up and offers his hand to Cyrus. He grabs it and is pulled up to his feet. They started walking ahead along the primitive dirt trail. As they passed some trees, Alaric closed his eyes and felt a pressure in his heart.

  He turned to face Cyrus and focused.

  He noted their difference in experience and nodded. They had to fight through some pursuers after being cornered while hiding in an abandoned farmstead. They managed to kill some Level 1 Bounty Hunters before escaping. Alaric still shivered thinking about how he loaded his crossbow and killed a man with a bolt through the heart. Granted, the bounty hunter was trying to murder him and was probably a cruel man, but he still took the life of another. The innocence of his childhood was well and truly dead no matter how much he wished it wasn't so. Cyrus did not seem as disturbed, but it could've been since the first man he killed actually managed to stab him. Perhaps that was why he wasn't that upset about sending a man to Solarus, or perhaps to Diabolos in the bounty hunter's case.

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  As the sun started to set, reflecting off the snow piled two inches thick, Alaric and Cyrus decided to set up camp. Cyrus took off his pack and used it to push away snow to reveal the icy ground and dead grass. Alaric, shivering now from the literal chilling cold rather than guilt, got to work picking up branches and sticks, rejecting those that are too wet. Rocks were set up in a circle with sticks arranged in a teepee with some kindling placed on top. Alaric pulls out his knife along with a piece of flint. He strikes the flint with the knife, chipping a small shard into the kindling, starting the ember. As the fire started climbing, Alaric and Cyrus cleared out some snow to place down their makeshift tents, stretching the animal hides across some branches.

  As the sun finally left the sky, the half-brothers sat around the fire. Cyrus looked at Alaric and said, "As soon as we can, we should try to reach Pelem to board a ship headed somewhere south, perhaps the Basilian Empire."

  Alaric nodded. "I know. This cold is killing me. The only good thing is that we only have to fight the wildlife as no one is crazy enough to settle up here."

  Eventually, Alaric added more wood to the fire before both half-brothers headed to their tents and bundled up in their blankets.

  Yet as they drifted to sleep, the wind blew hard to the east, whipping sails of several longboats. Little did they know, there was a river only five hundred meters north.

  Thrakk Skullcrusher stepped off his boat, his heavy frame sinking into the snow. He stood seven feet tall, verdant green skin gleaming in the moonlight. His tusks would put a boar to shame. He was bald with a long beard and bulging muscles.

  He motioned behind him for his fellow warriors to follow. Several tall and muscular orcs climbed off the ship, all carrying either a gruesome axe or hammer. Once the warband was assembled, they marched through the snow towards the smoke they could spot in the distance.

  When they reached the camp, Thrakk roared a mighty roar. The warband roars with him as they charge into the tents. Alaric and Cyrus don't have time to wake up enough, and both are captured embarrassingly quickly. Thrakk looked into their bloodshot eyes and grinned. "Wada we 'av 'ere boys! A pale runty and a mutt like our warg! Take 'em to tha ship! I got two new thralls!"

  As they were being dragged away, Alaric and Cyrus dared a look at each other and saw their dread in each other's eyes. Their freedom was at an end at the hands of barbaric orcs.