As Alaric approached the temple, he could see Lyra there, along with Brigham, waiting for him. The sun now had crept its way above the mountains, shining hits light down on them as the fog had dissipated.
Lyra smiled upon seeing him, Brigham simply stared, observing Alaric's appearance critically.
"You made it!" Lyra said. "I was worried." She folded her arms and let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall of the temple.
"That was quick. Ya must have some skill then, especially seeing as ya don't seem to have a single scratch on ya. All I see is dirt, water and grime." Brigham spoke.
Alaric looked down at himself. He was soaked in cave water and covered in mud and dirt. It had to be the dirtiest he'd ever been in his royal life. It felt so.. gross and uncomfortable.
"I'd figure the Leshy would've killed ya, or at least given ya a challenge." Brigham added.
"Leshy?" Alaric asked.
"Yeah, the things in the forest. They are the forest spirits, guardian's of the dark wood. Their favorite pass time is turnin people to sinners before killin em."
"Turn them to sinners? And what if you already are a sinner..?" Alaric inquired.
"Then they would just kill you." Lyra shrugged.
Alaric wrapped his fingers about the humming item in his pocket. A confused feeling came over him then, as he didn't understand why he would have been different in the eyes of those creatures..
'Then why didn't they kill me..?' He thought.
"Something wrong, Alaric?" Lyra asked, snapping him back to reality.
"Yes.. I am alright." He decided he wouldn't tell them about what happened. He could already see the look of suspicion cast on him by Brigham. He hated that look.. why was it that people always suspected the bad from him?
First his own Clan assuming he was the murderer of their king.. and now he was being suspected again for reasons unknown. What was it that Brigham thought of him? It's not like he did anything wrong.
So then why that look..
Alaric met Brigham's gaze with irritated dead eyes. His air turned cold, his expression little more than that of a hollow doll.
A visible shiver ran through Brigham as his face paled. The burly man broke from Alaric's eyes and turned to the temple, ascending the steps and opening the curtain.
"Come on then. Grifford wants to speak with ya." The man said.
Alaric began to ascend the steps to the temple. Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. He turned and looked over his shoulder at her with cold eyes.
"I'm glad you made it." She said with a soft smile. "Can't have you dying so soon. Who knows, I might wanna kill you myself. I am curious to see what you are capable of."
Alaric's expression softened slightly, and a faint light returned to his eyes as a strange warmth flowed through his veins from his chest.
"I.. thank you." He said, not knowing what else to say.
Alaric walked up the stairs, sending a sideward glance at Brigham as he passed into the small room where the old man sat facing him. The curtain closed behind Alaric and he could hear footsteps as Brigham and Lyra walked off.
"Alaric. You've come sooner than I'd expect, and in better shape." Grifford said suddenly. He waved his hand, motioning for Alaric to sit. "I take it that Graud gave you clear passage through the caves?"
"Graud..? Oh. The dragon. Yes, he did." Alaric spoke, sitting across from Grifford. "It was.. strange. I never believed in creatures such as dragons."
"Did he tell you the story behind the Clans?" Grifford inquired.
Alaric nodded. "Indeed he did. I knew most of it, but for all my life I never knew the reason as to why the Clans warred on one another to begin with. Now I do."
"Yes. The squabble of two brothers, one following on his beliefs, the other with countering ideals forged from tragedy." The old man spoke. "Funny how you could have two sides of the same penny. They led the same lives, same family, home, same way of being raised, and same event. Yet, they had two entirely different reactions and ideals."
"Resulting in the shadows that are now cast king over this land." Alaric added.
Grifford nodded. He reached behind him and pulled out a small tray as well as a pipe. He used a match to light the pipe. For a moment he just sat there, holding the match to it, then it finally lit. He flicked the match, killing the flame before placing it in the tray. He took in a deep breath from the pipe, then pulled it away from his lips and blew a large, flowing cloud.
"Want some?" He asked, holding it out to Alaric.
"No. I am fine." Alaric held up his hand. "Thank you for your offer."
Grifford shrugged. "Oh well. I figured you may want to try, considering the bell of war is to be rung soon."
"What?"
Grifford stared up at Alaric grimly, putting the pipe to his lip and taking in another deep breath. "Mortadire is right on our doorstep." He spoke after blowing out the smoke.
"I see. As expected, my brother is quick to take action, even if restless." Alaric sighed.
"Don't worry, we've got counter measures. We will not be falling here." Grifford said. "We will force them back, decimate their forces, and force them to retreat."
Alaric looked up at Grifford. "My brother is very good at inspiring his men. He could make the whole of Mortadire follow him off a cliff with a single word."
"Really? He's that good of a leader then?"
"Yes. So here is my question. What will you do when they don't retreat? What will you do when, even if their forces are cut down to only a couple dozen, what will you do if they don't falter? Because, honestly, to me it seems as though you are putting all bets on the fact that you can make them fall back."
Grifford took another puff of his pipe. "Honestly, yes. Our forces are nowhere near the strength of Mortadire. Our only saving Grace is this valley and our tact. Otherwise, we are beaten. And if they do not retreat, and all our countermeasures have been used, then we will fight to the death. That or we will have to be forced out of our land."
"You are taking a large gamble. I highly doubt my brother will back down. He will drive his men on. And he will no doubt see right through your plans. He too is very tactful." Alaric warned.
"Well. Then we will leave our threads to the fates and allow the Great Dragon to decide our end." Grifford said with a sad smile.
Alaric had heard of that before. In Ettran beliefs, the Great Dragon was a four winged divine dragon with glimmering white scales. It is said that all the strings of fate, down to every single living being and even the world, are tied to the mystical being's heart. In theory, if it were to die, so too would the world. It is worshiped and revered as the most powerful god of all Ettran gods.
"You'd lay your life in the hands of a fictional being?" Alaric asked.
"Fictional?" Grifford chuckled. "The strings of the world are proof enough. The fact that you and I live is enough for me to believe and trust in the Great Dragon."
Alaric snorted. "I can hardly believe in a dragon to begin with. But I do believe it, as I've seen it. But do you truly think there is some almighty god dragon existing in the bowls of this world?" He shook his head. "I do not believe my fate is tied to anything other than the weave of this world I walk upon."
"Ah, and you can remember the cause of the Clan's conflict, yes? If you cannot keep steadfast to your beliefs without putting down the ideals of others, you will never find peace."
"I am not searching for peace." Alaric said coldly. "I am looking for blood."