The Hollow Mountains.
The legacy of the race that once walked these lands, was found in every valley, and on every peak that dared pierce the sky.
Three statues stood against the sky, at a daring hundred feet tall. Their immensity, a standing reminder of what once called this place home, their weapons, a dire look into the volatile nature of all life and its need to fight, to survive.
For as close as they were to nature, they were not exempt from its laws.
A woman carved in pristine pearly white stone, that seemed to resist all forms of degradation, her clothes were long, and tight, her hands wrapped up, with gauntlets over, she had no eyes, covered by a sash. Her stance was casual, but the carver had made the stone come to life, as though she would start walking at any moment. She stood searching the East.
Her sister bore a spear, that was a head taller than herself and wore a winged helmet, her nose had curves that lingered near her eyes, making her look fearsome and enraged, watching the South.
And at last, the final sister wore plated shoulders, and had braids down to the middle of her back, she held a Zweihander with its point against the ground, the spitting image of a knight. Her eyes were like jewels against injustice, standing proud even after millennia had passed. Her face looked West, but she watched North.
"The First Daughter's fought against the Age of Ruin. In their hands, as the last of the true giants, they crafted our future with their sacrifice. As they took care of us with their lives, we honor them using our own."
Awick stood at the summit of the mountain. It was a long way, to the top, though those statues stood at a hundred feet tall, the mountain stood at least thirty times that. Everything in this place, was bigger, from the tall trees, to the massive rivers.
He put his weapon away, and his hands together. In a prayer.
Constance could not, for she did not pray to their gods, whoever they may be, but she did say a prayer in her heart, to the Goddess, that those valiant souls might have found their eternity.
Argo closed his eyes. There was no need to be rude, to people who were so clearly caring of each other, and of their own. He had seen horrors that would break most, and so he was certain, that these were people, who were nothing short of righteous.
Some time passed.
Awick waited, looking into the woodlands. And soon, a response came in the form of a man standing opposite that invisible line. Argo instantly felt that he was also a master, though he was not on par with Awick's intensity. There was a subtle difference.
The tetherings of magic, were in the air, lingering along the branches, and over the ground. An invisible net, around the mountain, perhaps.
Lunston glared at Awick, his lips curled back into a magnificent frown, "The more you bring, the greater the burden on our people. Must you continue despite seeing the signs of what it will bring?"
"The First Daughters saved us all, despite our differences. We carry their legacy. Our brothers and sisters from below, are not any less worthy, to be saved." Awick's voice felt magnetic, and his gaze was as clear as running water.
It made Argo feel strange, he could not bring himself to look at Awick as a fool, or a self-righteous lunatic, his gaze was too clear. The conviction inside, was too real, and far too visceral, for him to entertain the thought, that it had not come from a good place.
But the road to hell was paved with good intentions.
Lunston shook his head, he knew Awick meant no harm, but even so, "They did what they could. You lead us to do more than we can. You hunt every day, but the number of monsters does not drop. The number of refugees does not lower. And our food supplies, don't increase."
"When we stand before them one day after we are long gone, will you be able to look them in the eye?" Awick calmly shook his head, as though teaching a child, "I wish to enter our final resting place, knowing there was nothing more I could do."
Lunston looked at him coldly.
Argo could see both sides of the argument.
Lunston turned and vanished as though he was a mirage, "...Come in."
Awick followed the traditional mindset of the mountain people, to be warm and welcoming, protectors of travelers and explorers, as their ancestors were protected by the First Daughters.
He exemplified what it was, to be a Giant's Descendant. To go against the push and pull of what is and what could be, to create what was needed. He didn't believe, that they couldn't take care of everyone, as the First Daughters did.
Despite seeing that side, he tended to favor Lunston's opinion more. Though he was more direct with its delivery, likely due to years of being ignored for it, it held weight. He took him at his meaning and intention, not his words.
The more people that Awick brought back, the more the strain on the indigenous population, they couldn't farm in the mountains, so it was solely through the hunting of monsters and the husbandry of livestock, that they were allowed to survive here.
If the population grew too much, everyone would starve. And, if the Avancia Hold was known to the world more commonly through merchants and traders, nations would start to try and interfere, since the Hollow Mountains were technically belonging to three nations.
Namely, Hacury, Karlan, and Bridland, though Hacury was a small mercenary nation, Bridland and Karlan were both the descendant lands of the Heroes that fought the Lich and freed the Eastern Continent, the roots of their power went deep.
A Hold like Avancia would be a massive boon to anyone who held it. At a glance, if these giant humans were to side with any nation, they would gain two masters, which could turn a war with ease.
The Heart of the South, was a High-level Master, who nearly alone, had fought the Dumbaran's to a standstill, while also facilitating the defense of the Undead from the Sea, at the same time, for decades.
By allowing more people in, Awick had essentially opened them up to the greed of the nations, who desired to wield that sort of power in their own hands and get an unassailable foothold in the Hollow Mountains, which were rich with Monster Materials, and Magic Stones.
That said, neither was inherently wrong. One couldn't say, that saving people and honoring your ancestor's sacrifices, was wrong. But one also couldn't say, that trying to preserve without allowing outsiders in, what they created, was wrong either.
Both sought to protect the people, but their methods and ideologies were different, neither terribly flawed, but ultimately different.
Before his mind could start to daze into the deeper implications, and decipher the political climate of Avancia Hold, whether Lunston had thought that far ahead, or not, or if Awick had thought ahead or not, and what would become of everything, as well as how to benefit and so on, he was pulled out from it.
He felt a burning gaze next to him.
Constance was staring at Awick with nothing short of admiration, Awick's stance had been a valiant stand, in her eyes, he was naturally correct, to be accepting of everyone, and following the ancient traditions to honor your ancestors.
She aspired to be closer to that sort of character, that could so unhesitatingly follow his convictions, and honor his blood.
In that moment, he was certain of one thing. And that was that she had not considered anything beyond what she had heard, neither the implications nor the future that these two's disagreement would create, in the Hollow Mountains.
Argo felt a headache coming on.
If she took after Awick anymore, then, this journey would be even more difficult than it already was, and this detour, would surely not be the last one.
They broke away from the trees.
The air was sucked straight out of his lungs, and his mind went blank.
A giant stood before a gate a hundred feet tall, he wore a belt, and a cloth shirt, upon its belt, was a chisel and hammer. Its massive form opened the door, its laugh boomed across the mountains. Fairies, pixies, and spirits flew about its heartbeat, like a gong, calling nature to its side, always.
He blinked… and realized that it was the carving in the gate.
Its edges were so well maintained, its craftsmanship was so well done, that, he thought he was witnessing a living giant from the days before recorded history. His heart had almost fallen out of his chest. He could smell a time before their time, in the air.
It was hard to describe. It was as though he had time-traveled.
His breath returned to him, as he realized it was a carving and not a real-life giant.
Constance however was still bewitched, her heart beating like a racehorse, she was enthralled by the architecture. She had never, and he hadn't either, but she had never seen anything even remotely close to such radiant design and immaculate creation.
"Aarvar the Carver. Some knew him as the Son of the Garden. His hammer and chisel is the foundation upon which every stone was carved, in the Hollow Mountains." Awick explained it, whilst gazing upon it, "Nature is said to have loved him so much, that it could not bear to see him wither and decompose. But he had told it, to allow him to join the rivers, forests, and mountains, to have himself, be his own, final masterpiece in returning to them."
Constance and Argo were stunned. This was not history that they were taught anywhere else, and they were not legends, that could be heard by bards nor minstrels in any tavern.
It was the iron-clad belief of these people of the mountains, whose blood runs thick with the sacrifices of these mighty figures from the past, their names still alive on their lips, after millennia.
Argo drew himself back, he looked back, at the girl, who simply stared at the door, with the same round eyes, but he knew those eyes. He knew, that she hadn't seen a thing. Only observing it.
And that did not sit well with him. Those eyes could never sit well with him, not on an innocent face, like hers. Not on any child's face.
He stood up and walked back, she looked up at him, and he gently picked her up, he spoke, "I'm not mad at you so hurry up and enjoy the view already."
Constance's ear twitched.
Awick and Lunston were not rare, many people had their own convictions and beliefs. Though she didn't agree with him, she was willing to give the devil his due.
The girl stared at him, and then, at the gate.
It was truly magnificent.
Argo did not know, if the tales of Aarvar the Carver, were true. Or if they were embellished, outright fake, or perhaps undersold. But he could at least, believe in the tears he saw in the girl's eyes. She was seeing the door, for the first time.
He could feel her trembling form, and feel her hands unconsciously gripping his shirt.
Argo had unknowingly formed a smile. He could see a girl peeking out from those dark eyes. Though she hadn't the heart to come out yet. He felt satisfied, knowing she was there at all.
She was still holding on, somewhere.
Seeing this, Constance gave up.
She would not forgive what he had said, but she was done being angry with him when his emotions came from a place, that could produce such a warm little smile.
Awick and the hunt party had enough sense not to stare, and make the moment weird, but they were paying attention.
After all who would not take pride, in the emotional reactions of others, to the works left behind by their beloved ancestors? It was the greatest compliment they could receive, seeing that thing they love, being cherished by others.
A smaller gate carved into the massive gates began to slowly drag itself open, as they reached it.
The Human Gate.
Awick looked back ahead, it was dangerous to pass in this dark tunnel, without a guide, since there were traps, something their ancestors installed with great foresight, in case of monster invasions.
It felt as though they were crossing into a different world. Argo, Constance, and the girl, all looked up at the same time, as the narrow tunnel expanded.
"Welcome to Avancia Hold. The Home of the Giants."