~~~~~~~~~~~

"It is time, Sire."

The voice of a young man would cut through the darkness, unnatural in the forest where usually only the creatures of the night were to be heard.

"Already?"

Another man's voice did cut through the nightly silence, followed by a heavy sigh. The sound of hooves on dry ground stopped; only one or another soft neigh was heard coming from the majestic warhorse.

"Yes, Sire."

Again a heavy sigh. Heavy armored boots hit the grounds as the men dismounted the beast.

"I am sorry, and I am grateful for your services all those years, Heron."

"It was an honor, my liege. I would always decide the same, no matter what."

Branches were heard to be broken, mingled with the sound of armor being taken off. Then, not long after the couple stopped their ride, a small fire would light the clearing.

"Reconsider now, Heron. There is no turning back soon. This is your last chance."

"I made my peace, Sire. It is for a greater good."

No regret was to be heard in the man's voice. No defeat, not a single sense of negative emotion. It sounded almost proud, determined. They had a remarkable similarity. Hair shared the same shade of a dark blond with a hint of copper. An elegant face with high cheekbones and a straight nose framed by those golden locks. One could mistake the men for brothers.

"We could find another solution still."

"No, Sire. This is the only way."

The royal armor changed its owner, and soon Heron was back doing what he had always done. Now he was the king. A third heavy sigh weaved through the night, followed by the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath.

"Then let's get over with it."

"I believe in you, Sire."

A hint of a smile flashed across Heron's face while a second sword was drawn. The clinking sound of crossing swords filled the clearing. The fight was short, but it felt like an eternity until the sword tip found its way past the armor, diving deep into its victim's flesh.

The choking sound of blood filling one's throat, stumbling steps over dry forest ground, and a heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. Then, there was silence.

Heron. Even while dying, he stuck with the plan and fell with his face ahead into the fire. The man turned around, sheathing his sword carefully before mounting the horse.

"Farewell, my friend. I will make sure your sacrifice was not in vain."

~~~~~~~~~~~

'Follow the road to the south, cross the Mulberry Bridge and turn left at the second crossing. In the eve you will reach the village Renn. I will wait in the tavern. Do not tell anyone and burn this note. V.'

Nothing more was written upon this small piece of parchment. Ruval did burn it as suggested, not without wondering what this was about.

"Oh, Var. I hope you've got a good reason to be so mysterious", he muttered to himself while mounting his horse. Slowly he rode down the dark streets, the sun hasn't risen yet, and wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. Winter was almost over, the first signs of Spring were already to be seen, and the days were warm. Too warm, though. But during the twilight, you still could feel the cold of the winter that was about to pass.

Since there weren't many on the street yet due to the early hour, Ruval reached the gates rather quickly. A short nod towards the guards, showing the knights emblem on his armor, and he was out. Usually, the gates were still closed at that hour, but being a royal knight sure was advantageous in times like this.

As the knight left, a silhouette slipped from shadow to shadow back into the direction of the castle. Ruval's early disappearing wasn't left unnoticed.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ithiliel!"

The loud shout, almost sounding like a bear's growl, rang through the small cottage. Ithiliel rolled her eyes, annoyed, but she didn't intend to hurry one bit. The sun was not up yet, it was still black night, yet both hunters that occupied the small hut were already up and about. She slowly finished adjusting her weapons for today's hunting trip before leaving her chamber. Slowly she snuck to the parlor and stopped behind her father, leaning down till her lips were next to his ear.

"What?!"

She couldn't help but shout the word into his ear. As expected, the yell and jump did follow almost immediately. Followed by a pained groan. Now she felt bad, almost. Ever since Bearnard got injured, he became unbearable. The fact of him not being able to move properly and needing help for almost everything turned him into being even more grumpy than usual.

"You damn brat!" The old huntsman panted the words heavily out while sitting back down into the chair, yet glaring at his daughter.

"What's wrong, old man? You called for me, and I answered," came as a reply, the mischievous grin that formed around Ithiliel's lips only broadened by looking at his face.

"I'm doomed for having such a heartless daughter. Causing me even more pain than I am already in. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Bearnard's grey eyes followed his daughter as she walked around him to the stove, watching her packing proviant for her trip, and sighed then.

"I hope you've got everything ready," he said then, still keeping his eyes upon Ithiliel's back.

She, on the other hand, didn't bother to answer him until she had her bag packed and turned them slowly to face her father with a small piece of bread in her hand.

"The bow and quiver are next to the door; I checked the arrows yesterday in the eve before I went to bed. The knives and the dagger are all nice and sharp, the sheaths oiled. Strings, ropes, bandages, and ointments are checked and in the bag as well. Food and waterskin just finished. This should answer your question. And stop glaring at me. No one asked you to wrestle with a hungry bear," Ithiliel answered, slight sarcasm dripping from each word as she spoke before biting a piece off of the bread.

"It is too warm. I did not expect a bear to be awake yet!" Bearnard growled in his deep voice. Indeed it was too warm for this time of the year, the first Spring moon hasn't passed yet, and yet some of the creatures of the forest already have awakened.

"Always expect the unexpected. Your words," Ithiliel said in a slightly mocking tone. She literally grew up with these words, and here he was complaining about his own teachings.

"Oh, shut up..." the older replied and waved a hand dismissively. Ithiliel grinned again, biting another piece off of the bread, and chewed it carefully while approaching her father.

"I have everything ready and perfectly prepared. Thanks to you and your lessons. Do not worry, I've got this," she gave as a response, a warm smile replacing the mocking grin on her lips, and she leaned down to plant a soft kiss onto her father's cheek. "I'll be back before you start missing me, old man."

A grunt was the only reply, and Ithiliel grinned again. Bearnard was not a man of many words nor using words to show affection. He was more the man who shows it through actions.

She gave him a soft pat on the shoulder before maneuvering around him again, shouldering her bag and heading for the door to pick up her bow and quiver.

"Am expecting your famous stew upon my return," was all she said before vanishing into the night, not aware of how much her life was about to change.

~~~~~~~~~~~