A large group of Black Crow soldiers and their goblin slaves returned to their camp after a day of gathering supplies and hunting to fill their ration. They returned in dismay after witnessing an army of goblins subduing their comrades. But worse of all was Bret Hart walking out of a burning building carrying their unconscious Captain. They surrendered at the sight of the Golden Condottiero, acknowledging that they had no chance to fight. Their goblin slaves were ecstatic to see their tribesmen and to finally be free from their tormentors.
Buchanan and Horace were tied up in chains and placed inside a makeshift cell along with their men. Hart brought along a train of the wagon he hid inside the cave to carry the prisoners and the civilians. The goblins offered to help him pull the train out of the cave, but Hart did so with relative ease by himself. Everyone found his incredible strength remarkable and frightening.
He pulled them all, eleven wagons weighing eleven hundred pounds with no horses assisting him. He parked the wagon in front of the cavern entrance and organized them to divide the Black Crows from the Black Flower citizens.
And the light draws out the goblins hiding in the trees. The children and elders that did not join the fight still came to spectate the battle and to take care of the injured. Natasha was part of the audience and lead the goblins to aid everyone. Her presence in the camp surprised Rock, who quickly ran to her side. "Mom!" He hugged her from behind, "What are you doing here?"
Natasha jumped when Rock suddenly hugged her, "Mom?" She turned around in disbelief, "Rock is that you?"
"Yeah, it's me,"
"Woah," Natasha took a step back and looked at her adopted son, "You've grown! You were only knee-high just a few months ago."
"Well, did they say halflings grow fast!"
"Come here," Natasha opened her arms and embrace Rock.
The goblins focused on removing the stones locked on the dark elves' collar. They had to be quick in order to minimize the damage it could inflict on its host. The best method was to stick arrows and knives on the stone with strings attached to them. Another person would pull as hard as they could then toss them as far as they could. The stones exploded like fireworks on the night sky, and colorful glitter gently floated down on the goblins and dark elves. The warm colors of the glitters and intense heat from the bonfire were the perfect catalysts for a celebration.
But it was not entirely a celebration. There was also a sense of grief in the air. Isla and the Maston tribe carried the remains of the wall and threw them to fire. They watched the pyre burn the remains of their holy trees to carry their spirits to the afterlife. Its melting waxes are left behind, seeping through the dirt and back to the earth.
Their task to watch over these funerals were difficult. And this particular ritual was the most challenging one they must undergo due to the sheer magnitude of the fire and the amount of Tungtress to burn. And the distracting festivities happening behind them.
Elena was standing next to Isla. She noticed Elena occasionally looking behind her, watching the goblins and dark elves celebrate instead of overseeing the bonfire. And she wasn't the only one. The younger women were easily distracted by the festivities. "Elena!" Isla yelled.
"Yes!" Elena straightened her back and turned her eyes back to the fire.
"Go take young women. Elder watch fire."
"What?"
"Go, deserve fun. Isla watch stead."
Elena bowed and the rest of the Maston women left in excitement to join the others. They deserved the break after fighting the invaders and saving their holy trees from eternal damnation. Isla and the other elderly women stayed to watch the bonfire. Upholding their tradition was important for the older generation of Maston women, and it was a task that does not come with rewards. But they weren't the only ones that are bearing such heavy responsibilities.
Arga watched the young men celebrate their victory and freedom. His generation has never been part of such a conflict as this. They mainly ran away from their attackers, seeking refuge under the canopies of the Maston tribe or watchful eyes of the local lords from the south.
It was the first time they were caught while running. And it was the first time they won against their enemies. But Arga wasn't dumb; he knew the reason they won. It was thanks to the efforts of Sun and his goblin band did they win. What truly surprised him was when they joined the battle. Arga's hands still shake from the battle, his wounds aching, and yet his body was filled with boundless energy.
The Orgut tribe never fought back. They always let their protectors do the fighting. But somehow, Cossack managed to convince to fight as if it was in their blood to seek conflict. It was such a strange phenomenon and Arga still felt like it was a dream. He continued sitting on the sideline, staring at the fire far away from him.
Korge was dancing around a small pyre along with the goblins and dark elves near the camp's former barracks. The young Orgut women and men joined hands as they dance intimately within the fire's warm embrace. While dancing, he noticed his father lost in thought while staring at the fire. Korge parted ways with the dancers and sat down with his father. "Papa? Something wrong?"
Arga took a few seconds to respond, "Korge," He turned to his son.
"Yes?"
"Orgut need new Chief. Arga think found new chief and it not you. Sorry,"
Korge quickly consulted his father, "No, no sorry. Korge not want Chief anyway. So, who new Chief?"
"Come," Arga stood up, and Korge followed him. The Orgut tribe had one symbol for their Chief. A red cap with feathers attached to it forming an extravagant crown that resembles fire rising towards the sky. They lost that symbol after running for so long. Ever since then, the status of Chief was passed down from father to son when their eldest child reaches manhood.
Arga is not going to throw this old tradition away. They may not have the crown to officially and spiritually grant the next Chief their right to rule, but if the support of the tribe is enough, then there should be no problem.
They went through the camp, between each small pyres and their dancers, until they reach the goblin Arga wanted to take the title of Chief of Orgut. But it wasn't the right time to speak to him. He was busy with his own problems, and Arga can only wait with his son for their candidate to finish his business with Artio.
Cossack was holding a cup of tea made by the Maston women. His hands were shaking so much that the tea would spill every now and then. "You alright?" Artio asked.
"Sorry, I just can't, um," Cossack's eyes swirl around while his mind tries to search for the words to use.
"What's the matter with you?" Artio was growing impatient. She's been sitting next to him since she escapes the barn. "If you're trying to say speak up."
"Right, sorry. It's just hard for me to say anything." Cossack shut his eyes and faced the ground, "I couldn't save you. And I'm sorry."
"Sorry about what?" Artio leaned closer.
"That I couldn't save you?"
"No, I don't need your apology." Artio grabbed his chin and turned his head to face her, "When I saw you come for me and beaten to near death, I felt helpless. I wanted to help you, but I didn't because I thought it was better if I just went with him. But I was wrong. I should have done something then. I should have never lost hope. After all, you killed a troll by yourself."
"But that's the thing, I did..." Suddenly, Artio kissed Cossack, shutting his mouth. Arga and Korge turned away to give them privacy.
Their lips stayed connected as they softly kiss each other repeatedly. Then Artio leaned back, "I'm leaving tomorrow, Cossack." Artio announced, "I can't be with you, and I'm sorry. There are things I need to do back home, especially now."
Cossack regained his energy, "That's ok! I'm going to be busy. There are goblins that are relying on me. And if I ever see you again, I want to make sure to be the best I could be. So I could be that hero I always envision in my stories."
"You're already a hero. For me, at least."
The two continued talking to each other as the night went by. Meanwhile, the brothers were busy helping with the festivities. They brought fresh meat and learned to milk the goats after the Orgut herders showed them their way of life. Everyone found it fascinating except for Sun. He was by no means a country kid in his past life, but he remembered fragments of his childhood in the desert with his father leading a herd of sheep.
It was a strange memory, but it was also one of the most precious ones. He had very few memories of his father, and he still does not know what happened to him. But Sun had no need to dwell in that quagmire. There was still work to be done.
Once they finished skinning the wild deers they caught, the brothers joined the dancers while the women took the lead in cooking the meat. However, all the brothers joined in as Sun was absent on the dancefloor.
He was looking for Shuja among the different groups celebrating in their separate campfires. No matter how hard he looks, Sun could not find her. The only pyre he didn't look at was the large bonfire he started after burning the barn to the ground. Isla and the other older women were maintaining their watch on the fire. This perplexed Sun because he didn't know the significance behind the fire.
Sun walked up next to Isla, making sure to make his presence known to her. Isla turned to face Sun before returning her gaze to the pyre. Her expression was soft and gentle which surprised Sun. He never expected the old woman to have such a sweet expression after his awful first impression of her. More importantly, Sun found it impressive that she could look at the pyre, with its light so intense that it could burn one's eyes if they were not careful.
"Doesn't this hurt your eye?" Sun asked, but Isla did not respond. "I mean, doesn't it hurt? It's pretty big, and the light is brighter than the sun."
"Not brighter than you," Isla remarked.
"Uh, I meant the actual sun. You know the giant fireball in the sky." Sun pointed up.
"Isla meant you." Isla pointed at him, "Outsider name Sun, killed Maston's enemy." Isla crossed her arms and faced Sun, "You strange. You very strong, could kill Maston and destroy homes."
"Here we go again,"
"No, not again. Me want say thank you." This surprised Sun even more than her gentle face, "Isla not know you. And Isla wrong act knowing you. You different and Isla think that good."
"No need for a thank you, Isla. I'm more than happy to fight the Black Crows. It was more fun too." Sun was about to laugh when h noticed black stains around Isla's eyes, "What's that?"
"Charcoal," Isla showed her black hands, "Help keep light burning eyes."
"And that was enough?" Sun was shocked.
"No. Rest need will to bear pain." Isla returned to her task and stared back at the fire and the Tungstree burning away, "Shuja looking for Sun. Shuja have important thing tell you. She outside wall practicing."
"Practicing?"
"Practicing to tell Sun."
Before Sun could ask her what she meant, Bret Hart interrupted their conversation. "Excuse me, but I need to talk to the leader of this army."
"It's hardly an army," Sun remarked.
"I'm an army," Hart responded, "And you are the leader of this army that won against the Black Crows."
"All I did was beat his ass,"
"And that you did." Hart smirked, "But I must tell you a few things. First, I congratulate you on your victory. Second, I wanted to ask. Have you heard of another mercenary by the name of Carnegie King?"
"No,"
"I see." Hart rubbed the back of his long ears, "Well, I would like it if you could avoid conflict with him. If by chance, you ever find yourself clashing with him."
"Well, I never heard of him. But I assume I will meet him and just as you said fight him. And why should I not fight him then? If he's just like Buchanan,"
"He's nothing like Buchanan." Hart took a deep breath, "And I only prefer for you to avoid King because there's a storm brewing. But I will not stop you, because you are important. I would know, I met Pagasa many times and learned much about the history of this land."
"You met Pagasa!" Sun yelled, "What is he like? What did he tell you?"
"Save your questions when you meet him. For now, I must go. These POWs are getting anxious, and the Dark Flower citizens need to get home. I must depart soon, and I hope to meet you again." Hart walked away from the large pyre. His shadow overcast the entire camp.