The snowy paths south of Davra were eerily quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath Isgram's boots as he and Gaia worked side by side. They carefully set fall traps, their hands deftly maneuvering the wooden structures into the earth. Isgram grunted with effort, adjusting a trap's tension.
"Do you think we'll actually catch anyone?" he asked, glancing sideways at Gaia.
Gaia's lips curved into a sly smile. "With any luck, we'll catch the unwary. But let's not underestimate the cleverness of our enemies. They've been elusive so far." Gaia tied her hair into a ponytail, and crouched next to Isgram.
Isgram nodded, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Still, it's been quiet since we left Davra. I half expected trouble to come knocking at our door by now."
"Yes, but peace can be deceptive." Gaia's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the mountains loomed under a blanket of white.
"You know, I think the villagers are warming up to us. And to be honest, who cares about these war talks when Alona cooks for us? Her herbal soups are incredible—if only we could convince her to share her recipes, I can't go back to roasted mushrooms."
Her gluttonous persnality became more dominant ever since the trio left Davra in the last few days.
Fang returned to the cave to start the herb garden project, as he deemed it crucial for the medicinal capacity in case of a war.
A stack of medicinal paste can save plenty of lives on the battlefield.
Isgram chuckled, shaking his head. "I think it's less about the recipes and more about the fact that she's a healer. Food always tastes better when it's made by someone who can mend a broken bone."
Gaia laughed lightly, her eyes twinkling.
"True enough. But still, I wouldn't mind having a few of her tricks up my sleeve. I could use a good herbal remedy for my headaches."
As they finished setting the last of the traps, a sudden, piercing scream cut through the stillness, reverberating in the cold air. Both of them froze, instincts flaring to life.
"That sounded close," Isgram said, his voice low and tense.
Gaia nodded, her expression serious. "Let's check it out. It could be one of our traps."
They moved swiftly, stealthily navigating the snow until they reached the source of the sound. There, sprawled on the ground, was a black-hooded figure, having fallen from his horse as he stepped into one of their traps. The sight of him, tangled and struggling, brought a surge of adrenaline.
"Looks like we caught ourselves some prey," Isgram said, a mix of surprise and satisfaction in his tone.
"Let me out of here, I have done nothing wrong!" Said the hooded man, his voice strained as it seemed he broke his leg from the fall.
"If you're that innocent, then you won't object that we take you to questioning in the royal courts, right? I heard they have mind-reading mages there."
The hooded figure knew well of how perilous it can be to Greenhill if he was captured, and worse than that, sent to the empire for further interrogation.
He tried to claw his way out of the hole, but his broken leg prevented him from standing let alone climbing.
"Let's make sure he doesn't escape." Gaia stepped forward, her hands weaving intricate gestures in the air. "Jungle of Concrete!" she called, and at her command, thick tendrils of concrete burst forth from the ground, ensnaring the man in a rapid embrace. It solidified around him, binding him tightly and preventing any chance of escape.
Isgram raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Nice work. Now we can carry him back with us."
Gaia nodded, her expression a mix of triumph and caution. "I'll use earth levitation to move him. Let's get him back to Davra and see what he knows. Who knows—he might provide us with crucial information about the rebellion."
With a wave of her hand, the concrete-encased scout lifted off the ground, hovering effortlessly as they turned back toward the village, a decision set in their hearts. As they moved, the icy wind howled around them, but neither of them felt the chill, only deep satisfaction.
As Gaia and Isgram navigated their way back to Davra, the hooded prisoner struggled within his concrete bindings, but each attempt to break free only solidified his restraints further. Isgram watched him with a wary eye, his hand resting on the hilt of his axe as they walked.
The silence was thick between them until Gaia spoke, her voice low. "If he's truly from Greenhill, he could be one of many scouts. They might have more eyes on Davra than we realize."
Isgram scowled, glancing over his shoulder at their captive. "Greenhill… if they're going to send more men, we might as well set up a bigger trap. There is little reason for someone to venture in the snowy hills instead of the road."
Gaia's expression darkened. "It seems strange, though, doesn't it? They'd risk sending someone here so soon after Fang's attack."
The mention of Fang's name stirred an edge of anger in Isgram. "Whoever is behind these plots has already tried to take him from us once. I'd wager they'll keep trying until they're sure he's out of the way for good." He clenched his fists, then exhaled, forcing himself to stay calm. "But they'll be in for a rough surprise if they think we'll let them get that close again."
The roads they traveled were too cold for the bandits, and many wild animals strayed clear of the open path.
Ever since the forest of death became a sanctuary free of hunting (Besides Fang's little hunting trips), the number of wild animals decreased drastically in the area and most of the herds moved back to the forest.
Unknown to Fang and his group, their presence gave birth to a new wonder, one only the king and his advisor encountered.
As they approached Davra, the village gates creaked open, revealing several guards awaiting their arrival.
Alona was among them, her eyes widening as she saw the bound figure floating at Gaia's command.
She exchanged a quick look with Gaia, who gave her a brief nod of reassurance.
"We found him near the southern traps," Gaia explained. "Caught off guard. Judging by his attire, he's not just a wanderer."
Alona stepped forward, her healer's instincts scanning the captive's condition. "He's injured. That leg will fester quickly if left untreated."
"Then it'll be his choice to speak quickly or suffer for his silence," Isgram replied, a hint of steel in his tone.
But Alona placed a steady hand on his arm. "Let me tend to him first," she said, her voice firm. "If he's willing to talk, we'll get more from him by keeping him conscious."
Gaia gave a slight nod of agreement. "She's right, Isgram. He's less useful to us dead."
Isgram grumbled under his breath but relented, watching as Alona knelt beside their prisoner. She murmured words of healing, her fingers glowing faintly as they hovered over the fractured leg. The man gasped as the pain lessened, his eyes flicking toward Alona with a mixture of fear and gratitude.
"Speak, then," Alona said gently as she finished her work. "You might spare yourself further pain if you tell us why you're here."
The man hesitated, his eyes darting to Isgram and Gaia, then back to Alona. After a tense pause, he finally muttered, "I… I came on orders from Greenhill. They wanted me to keep an eye on the movements in Davra."
"And why?" Isgram's voice was sharp. "What does Greenhill want with us?"
The prisoner swallowed, glancing nervously at Isgram's axe. "It's... I never knew why exactly..."
The man's voice wavered as he stammered, "They only told me to watch. To report any unusual activity… anything that might hint at an alliance with outsiders."
Gaia's gaze hardened. "Outsiders like us, you mean?" Her tone was edged with cold intensity.
He nodded, his face pale as he met her eyes. "There's a rumor spreading through Greenhill. They say... there are chosen ones gathering here, chosen by the gods themselves. It terrifies them. They fear that if you band together, you'll be unstoppable."
Isgram scoffed, but a flicker of unease crossed his face.
"They're right to be wary. We've fought hard enough to stay alive in this cursed land." He lowered his axe just enough to show his displeasure. "And yet, they're sending spies instead of warriors? Pathetic."
Alona's voice was softer, almost compassionate. "Fear drives people to desperate acts. But it's one thing to fear and another to act upon it with violence. If Greenhill is behind the assassination attempt on Fang, this won't end well for any of us."
The man's eyes widened. "The… the chosen one they call Fang—he survived?" His voice held a mix of disbelief and awe.
"Yes," Gaia said curtly. "And he'll remain alive for a long time, longer than your leaders would like. He has plans, and he won't let Greenhill or any kingdom stand in his way."
"Then this is too late. I... I have a family in Greenhill! I must contact them, please, don't take your anger out on the innocent!" The scout's eyes that never shed tears of pain, now shed those tears out of fear.
"You should have thought about it before your chief ordered you all to seek trouble."
A strained silence fell over them as the man absorbed her words. Finally, he murmured, "It isn't the chief..."
Alona raised her left eyebrow, and the Magisto duo let her continue the interrogation.
"Who is behind this?"
The scout shook his head, as he knew he said way too much.
Isgram knew how deep loyalty could seep, yet there was another one he should be loyal to.
"You give us a name, and I will do my best to escort your family out of Greenhill."
"It's... it's complicated," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "I don't know everything, but I do know there's a lot of fear brewing in Greenhill."
He took a shuddering breath, his face showing the strain of choosing between loyalty and survival. "They've been warned that there are chosen ones gathering here—people with powers the rest of us can't even fathom. That terrifies them."
Isgram's expression darkened as he took in the scout's words. "So they're rallying people against us under the guise of safety?"
The scout nodded, his voice hoarse. "They don't trust anyone from outside the village, and Eiridan, the priest, has been saying it's a divine warning. He claims the gods themselves will curse our land if we allow your kind to gather strength." He glanced warily at Fang's group, as if half-expecting judgment from divine forces even now.
Gaia's eyes narrowed with a mix of fury and understanding. "And yet here you are, sent to spy and gather information, not strike. Does he genuinely believe that observation alone will make us less of a threat?"
The scout let out a bitter chuckle. "They don't stand a chance in direct combat, and Eiridan knows it. But he believes if we gather enough intelligence, we might find a weakness or learn how to divide your group. It's not much, but... it's all they can hope for."
Alona listened quietly, her gaze softening. "If what you say is true, then you're as much a pawn in their schemes as any of us."
Isgram's jaw tightened, and he glanced briefly at Alona and Gaia before speaking again. "They're looking for shadows, hunting ghosts they can't catch. If they're that desperate, Greenhill has no idea what it's truly up against." He swiped his finger across the blade of his axe, studying the scout intently. "But you're still withholding something. Who else is pushing this?"
The scout's face paled, and he shook his head. "I don't know… Just the priest, Eiridan. The chief, at least, hasn't made a public stand. But there are whispers... they say others are quietly urging this, wanting to keep it hidden." He swallowed hard, as if suddenly aware of the weight of what he'd revealed.
The group exchanged glances, suspicion filling the air. If there were others pulling strings in Greenhill, it meant the hostility Fang's group faced could go even deeper than they knew.
Alona leaned closer, her voice soft yet steady. "Who else have you seen with Eiridan? Anyone you recognize among these 'others'?"
The scout shook his head quickly, a touch of desperation in his eyes. "No, I swear. They keep to the shadows. I don't know who they are."
Isgram's voice turned to steel. "Then your options are clear. We can't have spies slipping back to Greenhill. But if you stay here, we'll make sure your family isn't dragged into whatever twisted plans Eiridan has."
The scout looked at Isgram with something like gratitude, the fear in his eyes softening. "Thank you… I'll tell you what I know, but that's all I have. Eiridan's been riling up the people, claiming he's seen divine visions—visions of war and destruction if the chosen ones unite. That's why he sent us, to keep an eye on all of you."
A quiet tension settled over them, the scout's admission hinting at darker schemes but revealing nothing of noting.
"Gaia, we need to head back to the forest, Fang must know of this.
Alona, can I count on you to update your father and Varden?"
Alona was about to say something, but she stopped and gave the two a confused look:
"Wait, Varden wasn't with you two?"
"What do you mean, of course not he is in charge of the guard routines. Is he not in the village?"
Alona felt tricked, yet her information came from Varden's personal guard.
"His guard told me he left the village a couple of hours ago, early in the morning to talk to Fang... I assumed he split from you both..." She let the words linger for a couple of moments, unknowing of the king and his advisor who now sat in the forest talking to Varden.
"What business does he have with Fang? I thought we cleared all of our plans in the last meeting with Fujin?" Asked Gaia, as she directed the question toward the village sentries and Alona.
"Father did not inform me of anything urgent, it is possible he needed Fang's advice on something urgent."
Gaia's gaze narrowed, her jaw tightening. "It doesn't add up. Varden would know better than to approach Fang without consulting us, not with the threat of Greenhill's spies around."
Alona's confusion only deepened. "I thought he'd gone with you two for a patrol or meeting. His personal guard assured me that he was on his way to see Fang. If something had changed, Father would have informed me. He keeps no secrets from me."
Gaia crossed her arms, skepticism flickering in her eyes. "Are you certain, Alona? You've mentioned before that your father has been... cautious lately, especially when it comes to Varden's actions."
Alona hesitated, caught between her loyalty to her father and the unsettling realization that the chief might indeed be keeping secrets—even from her. "Yes, but… this feels different. If Varden left for Fang on his own, then there may be more to it than any of us realize."
With a final glance at each other, they split up, each heading off on their separate paths, the weight of suspicion and secrecy heavy on their minds.
Gaia summoned a golem of hers, shaped like a wolf.
She rode towards the forest, his paws leaving indentations on the ground.
Alona went to seek answers from her father, leaving the scout in the hands of the guards.
And lately, Isgram joined the guards as he formulated a plan to rescue the scout's family.