"That's enough," an older man said, stepping forward from the group of mercenaries. He was flanked by an older woman and a youth who might be in his late teens or early twenties. "Corwal, you're going too far."
"Derek… I see Mutallu and Quinna are with you as well. Does that mean you agreed to this idiocy?"
Corwal relaxed his posture, but the dagger remained in his hand. A smile returned to his face when he took a look at the three people.
Arawn examined them, but saw nothing special. They were all dressed in the simple armor with the bloody dagger insignia and that's it. The only difference he could note was the way the ether moved around them. Although they didn't call to it openly, it flowed around them with interest like they were sending some unconscious messages for it to stay around.
The older man sighed while giving Corwal a pleading look. "Peter has the right of it, though. You can't continue like this. It'd be best if you returned to us."
For just a fraction of a second, Corwal closed his eyes like he didn't want to see what was before him. It seemed to pain him, but neither his expression nor his voice betrayed it. "Funny, I don't remember ever having that conversation with you."
"You're family," Quinna, the only woman in the group, said with a disapproving look. "Stop acting like a stubborn child that thinks he knows the best when he clearly doesn't. Do you even know who you are?"
A smile began to stretch across Corwal's face midway through her words. He soon began to chuckle, and then full out laughing. By the end, he was chortling like she'd said the greatest joke in the world.
Everyone stared at him like he'd went mad. Even the leaders of Scarlet Treason as well as Arawn could only stand with confusion written all over their faces. Quinna scrunched her eyebrows, obviously trying to recall if she had said something wrong and not finding it.
After a couple long moments, Corwal pretended to clear tears of laughter from his eyes and calmed a little. There was still a bright smile on his face, but something was wrong about it. Mockery was common for him, but there was way too much of it this time.
"It's you fools who have no idea who I am. You think you do, but you don't." Corwal stepped forward again. He walked right up to Peter and looked at him with a pitying expression. "Your attempt to save me back then was pathetic. It was your only chance, and you squandered it. From the moment I was sent out, it was already too late."
Peter's expression darkened, filling with pain, but before he could say anything, Corwal plunged the dagger straight into his heart. "I have no family," he whispered and stepped back.
An outraged cry rang out among the mercenaries, and a few dashed forward, dropping by Peter's body. They sent ether into his wound. In no more than a few seconds, the gash in his chest closed, and there weren't even any scar to remind people of what had just happened. Only the blood on the armor betrayed that it had really happened.
Peter pushed himself to a sitting position, ignoring the doctors crouching by his side. "You can't! That's not you; it's the king speaking! Please, just listen to me!"
"You're fourteen years too late," Corwal said over his shoulder, then glanced at the trio standing with horrified expressions to the right of Peter. They could not believe that he was actually capable of hurting his uncle. "Now scram, or stay if you want a fight. That's fine with me too. It seems it's been too long since I've put you all in your place."
The ten mercenaries of Broken Talon looked like they had something to say in regards to such an option, but upon meeting Corwal's freezing glare, they wisely kept it to themselves. No one wanted to die just to let him release some steam.
Arawn joined his friend, who chose to turn his back to the mercenaries arrayed before them and walk away. The ten men joined them, not wishing to be left alone with Scarlet Treason.
When they were some distance away, Arawn couldn't help saying in a quiet voice, "I thought they were your friends."
"I thought so too," Corwal sneered.
His voice was nothing short of a growl, and Arawn chose not to question more. Although he wasn't afraid of death, he had no wish to experience it again. If he was lucky, he'd hear the story later on, when Corwal had calmed down.
Still, it wasn't easy to let go of such unexpected behavior. Corwal seemed so unruffled by everything. Even Arawn confessing that he was pretty much invincible hadn't received anything more than a momentary look of surprise. His show of power had gained even less attention.
Yet the mercenaries were capable of making him want their deaths. Was it the outfit or just Peter though? The uncle that didn't understand that his charge had grown up?
Family… Arawn knew the word and what it meant, but he had no clue about what feelings it should bring out in him. There had been times when he'd dreamed of someone coming and saving him from the imprisonment, from the power that cursed him, but it had been long ago, when he was still a young boy.
In time, he had learned that the greatest cage was his own mind and body. And no one could free him from them. Since then, he'd stopped thinking of saviors and heroes. Dungeons weren't a place to meet them, especially not the lowest levels where Arawn had always resided.
When they returned to the mercenaries, everyone instantly realized that something was wrong. One brave man asked about it, and Corwal snapped at him. The man shivered and scurried away, all his bravery lost.
Corwal ordered everyone to start marching again. The mercenaries didn't like it, but they didn't dare to be disobedient. They knew his power from earlier, and now he seemed in a foul enough mood to kill anyone who disagreed with him.
In a while, they rounded the bend in the road. Where Scarlet Treason had been, there was nothing left but trampled grass. This should have improved Corwal's mood, but his expression only grew darker.
He pushed everyone to hurry until they reached their hideout, then disappeared in a blink of an eye. Arawn was standing by his side one moment, and the next he found himself in an unfamiliar town without anyone around him.
Broken Talon's stronghold was in the middle of nowhere, so they had been forced to leave the carriage a distance away and walk through the thick woods on foot. Apparently, Mairyan king wasn't too fond of mercenaries, so they had to avoid being noticed by him. They weren't banned, but if the king decided some mercenary band was getting too strong, he would wipe them out without a warning.
Because of that, mercenaries in Mairya didn't have a base or had it in hard to reach places, like mountainsides or thick forests. The latter was where Broken Talon had its home. Thick bushes and vines protected the area which they called home.
Past the impossible-to-pass-unless-you know-the-way natural camouflage, there was a cleared area. A small village could be seen there. All the buildings were built from earth, having been raised by elemental mages. Not one of them was taller than two floors, making it impossible to tell where anyone important might live.
Women and children ran out to welcome the mercenaries. Some cried in joy when they saw their loved ones return, others just hugged them, seemingly never planning to let go. They were touching reunions, and Arawn wondered if this was what the word family meant.
In a while though, everyone returned to their homes and old life. They played with their children, went to eat dinner, or chop wood. Some people sat down to discuss what had happened and what this would mean for the outfit.
Arawn did not fit in with them, however. He walked through what passed for a street, but was really just a dirt track, and wondered what he was supposed to do now. It was surprising to see mercenaries having families and just relaxing with them, since it didn't fit with what he knew, but he needed to find a place to stay.
Night was quickly approaching, and he would need somewhere to sleep. He hadn't had anything to eat since morning as well. That reminded him, where in the world had Corwal disappeared?
The familiar face of the old healer woman passed by him, and he grabbed her shoulder. She glared at him. "What do you want?" she demanded in a tart voice.
"Do you know where I could spend the night?"
"What's wrong with the lodging we gave you? Not fancy enough? Deal with it. There's nothing better in this place."
Arawn blinked, not having expected such vehemence. What had he even done to the woman? Still, he calmly asked her what lodging and when had they been given that.
"Your friend, that noble bastard, confiscated a house the moment he arrived. Who does he think he is? Knows a few fighting moves and already sees himself as Saint Theus. If Rain was awake…"
The mild insults seemed to have no end, so Arawn interrupted the old woman and asked her where the confiscated house was. She mocked him, but pointed him in the right direction.
It was a two-storey building that looked no different from any other. The only special thing was its location, since it was at the end of the so-called main street.
Once Arawn entered, he was hit by a strong smell of alcohol. Following it, he found Corwal sitting by a window with five pots of ale around him. He'd already finished one and was well on his way with the second one.
When he turned his head to face him, his eyes were clear however. They shone unnaturally, but the man wasn't drunk yet.
"I'm gonna remedy that soon, don't worry," Corwal said as if sensing his thoughts.
"Why?"
"Why am I drinking myself into unconsciousness like a pitiful wretch? Or why I feel like a pitiful wretch and want to drink myself to forget that? To both, I hate those bastards."
He took swig after saying that and returned his gaze to the world outside. There was nothing there but the trees and more trees. Arawn picked a chair and sat down.
"You're not making any sense," he said softly.
Corwal smiled while drinking more. "Good. This tastes like shit, but at least it hits well."
"Would you not rather explain what happened? It might beat drowning yourself in alcohol."
With a shake of his head, Corwal took another swig. "It's not something that talking can help with. That man, Peter, he could have taken me away so I would have never been sent to the Kennel. But he didn't get his shit together. At that time, he was too busy trying to impress the king and keep his position to care for his sister's child.
"And now… now… he wants to act like my uncle." Corwal laughed, but his voice held no joy. It was a hollow, bitter sound. "God, I hate pretentious bastards like him. Now that I created something of the travesty that is my life, he wants to sweep in and save me. Isn't that just glorious?
"I'm sure he even thinks that I should be grateful. Back then, when I established Scarlet Treason, I thought he genuinely cared about me. It was a misplaced feeling, since hounds have no family, but I took pity on him and let him keep his dreams. Yet all the bastard really feels is guilt for his sister's death and hatred for the king who cast him out.
"And I'm a useful tool, you know. Who wouldn't want to get their hands on a hound? If they truly turned them, they could assassinate the king himself. There's nowhere we can't go."
With another swig, Corwal returned his eyes to the forest behind the house. "When I left Scarlet Treason, it was because my mission ended, but also because I was growing tired of that man's attention. He thought he was being kind, helping me out, but all I saw was him getting in my way. I was no longer five.
"Since the day he put his career above me, it was over. The things they do to us in the Kennel… The thousand different ways in which they break us to create the weapons they want… I screamed and screamed, but no one ever came. Not once did he spare a thought for me.
"And he wants me to just fall in with him? Become his baby boy who knows not the cruelty of the world? Ha, he's too late by a decade. All that's left is a blade dripping blood... He wears my sigil, and yet he still does not understand. What a fool…"