A rider sped through the gates of Vyssia, the capital of Vyssium, and went straight for the Northern Central Sea’axfeared manor, catching the attention of the nearby house guards. Recognizing her, they immediately helped her off her horse. The children playing by the gardens stopped when they saw the woman approach the main house’s door.

“Dyvona is back!”

“Auntie! Auntie! How was Hetten?”

“Are all the Hetten as bald as they say they are?”

The woman coughed and said, “Where in the name of Humanos did you hear that all of Hetten are bald? Never mind that, where is Grandpa Wick?”

“He’s at our big castle!”

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“I want to see our big castle! Can you take us there, Auntie?”

“Castle? We don’t own a castle…” Dyvona muttered.

“A lot has changed since you got out of Varangia, Dyvona,” a loud, cheery voice boomed from the entrance of the manor. The owner of the voice stood proud and had a confident smile, her rich green dress only serving to enhance her air of bluebloodness further.

“Gwened! It’s good to see you!” Dyvona immediately ditched the children and hugged Gwened. “Where is your brother Gerard? Where’s Old Man Wick? What is this ‘castle’ the kids are talking about?”

“You haven’t heard about anything these past few months?”

“No. After I arrived at Hetten, I went to the forests for a while and couldn’t return. What’s happening?”

Gwened shook her head and said, “This is going to be a long story. Come on in and get comfortable first.”

Going inside, Dyvona was surprised how much the house had changed. There were a few expensive looking things lying around and were used as mere decorations. A few months back, the Central family wouldn’t have dared to put any of its precious treasure into light.

Even Old Man Wick’s favorite old sword was used as a display by the main fireplace. The aging hall was renovated as well, it was odd not hearing the creaking noises of the floor as the red-headed woman walked across the sparsely populated hall. After settling down, Gwened briefed Dyvona on what had transpired in these past few months.

“The entire Northwest Rhankia is… is…” Dyvona muttered. Her face contorted with doubt, shock, and a hint of happiness.

“Ours, yes. The other branches conceded and currently, Central Sea’ax is the second strongest branch, just under the main Sea’ax family.”

“I never would’ve thought those half-sized cave metal men would amount to this…”

“Where have you been?”

“Well, like I said, I went to hunt for some time. I was stuck in Hetten because I couldn’t find anyone willing to haul my goods back home for a low price. Luckily, I met Lord Otto, and he was in a great mood. He said he was willing to help me out for free.”

“Ah, Lord Otto? I heard he went with a large army of Varangians down south.”

“I didn’t see any Varangians,” Dyvona noted with a hint of confusion in her tone. “And I’ve been to most of the major Hetten cities.”

“Odd. But well, you’re here now. What’s your plan now?” Gwened asked.

“I’m going to see if Old Man Wick could buy my furs and bones at a fair price. Then maybe,” Dyvona removed a weapon from its tarp and placed it onto a table before continuing, “get this damned thing repaired at Greatia.”

“Ah, it’s that thing...A crossbow, was it? You got that from your father a long time ago, right?”

Dyvona nodded. “Aye. Why do you ask?”

“The Varangians might be able to help you. They have a lot of those crossbow-things.”

“Right! The Varangians! I forgot! I showed them my crossbow once, and they started crapping the damned things like they were baking bread. Do you know where I could talk to the Varangians?”

“I heard Lord Weaver’s currently here in Vyssia for business, at the southern Sea’axfeared manor.”

“Great! I know him, sort of. Perhaps I could ask for some discount,” Dyvona cheered as she grabbed her crossbow. The agile woman skilfully avoided the pestering children blocking the front entrance and got back onto her horse. After a quick ride, she stopped just short of the Southern Central Sea’ax manor.

It was different from months ago. The lonely old house which only sported members of the insignificant Central Sea’ax family now had several new buildings, and was swarming with outsiders. Scions of the other minor families could be seen discussing among themselves at the courtyard, while sellswords were loitering outside like flies attracted to a horse’s behind.

“Dyvona!” A tall man greeted the huntress as she stared at the manor house.

“Gerard!” Dyvona greeted back and jumped off her horse. The outsiders parted to let the woman pass. She could feel the inquisitive gazes of the people flanking her as she made her way to Gerard. “Is Lord Weaver here? I’ve got business to talk about him.”

“Ah, so you’ve heard that he’s hiring trackers and you’ve come back to sign up?”

“What? I never heard of such. I’m just here to ask him to repair my crossbow, but now that you’ve said it…”

Dyvona was brought to one of the meeting halls. Several Vyssian lords were loudly discussing with Weaver at the same time, almost to the point that nobody could understand what anything was being said. However, for some reason, Weaver was still able to give a firm and clear answer to them. Every time a nobleman spoke, the drone quickly filled an empty paper and passed his proposal to said person. Some were happy with what they got, others weren’t and continued to argue.

“Everyone, leave,” Weaver ordered as soon as he spotted Gerard.

A young lord stepped in and complained, “But we need to discuss our contract for the mine and-”

“We can discuss this some other day.”

“I don’t have ‘some other day’! The mine must be finished soon or I will-”

“Leave or I shall send an army to dismantle your entire fort,” Weaver threatened.

As much as it was a slap to the face, the young lord couldn’t argue because they knew that the northmen could do it if they wanted to, with little consequence. The lords left quietly and obediently, some giving Gerard a cold glare.

“Dyvona. It has been a few months since I’ve seen you,” Weaver commented monotonously as soon as there were only two Vyssians left in the room.

“Lord Weaver! It’s an honor that you still remember me. Humanos guide you. I’d like to ask a favor from you,” Dyvona placed the crossbow in front of Weaver and continued, “Is it possible to have this repaired?”

“Mmm. It is possible, but it will cost you.”

“Oh, come on, Lord. Remember how I showed you the crossbow? Surely the least you can do to pay me back is by repairing this old thing.”

Weaver went silent as he clasped his hand. “This logic is true. Perhaps we can call off any debts by giving you a brand new model? One usable by you.”

“Truly?! I’ll thank you in advance then!” Dyvona bowed her head low with a huge smile. “I also heard that you’re hiring hunters and trackers to venture far north? I’ve got experience exploring the north. After all, I had to find the entrance to the Mount Varangia dungeon.”

“You’ll go north all by yourself?”

Dyvona nodded confidently, though Gerard interjected, “Dyvona, it’ll be dangerous going north alone. You should perhaps take some of the family’s young hunters with you so-”

“Gerard, I’m not going to babysit some children. I’ve hunted alone for many years. I’ll do fine.”

Weaver filled a paper mechanically and meticulously. His entire arm moved in a steady straight line while his hands wrote with precision.

‘It’s like his hand isn’t even attached to his arm!’ the puzzled Dyvona exclaimed in her mind.

After just two minutes, an entire contract was made and passed across the table.

“I’m sorry, I can’t read or write,” Dyvona apologized.

“I’ll help her.” Gerard stepped in and explained the details to her. Because Dyvona already knew the location of Mount Varangia, she was treated as a special exception, and was tasked with tracking and scouting out the area surrounding Mount Varangia itself.

“Last time, you found the entrance to the dungeon. Perhaps you’ll find another one,” Weaver said.

“Well, Lord, I had the help of an old map.”

Weaver shrugged. “The map was old, inaccurate, and barely legible. It was a surprise you managed to find the entrance with that thing. What is it that you believe in? Luck, was it? Perhaps with luck, you’ll stumble upon another entrance.”

While Custodian had a full survey of its land, it had to admit that there were still some cracks in the system. Otherwise, the kojans wouldn’t have been able to strut into its dungeon so casually.

Dyvona nodded and said, “I’ll take this contract. May Humanos guide me to where I need to be.”

Far north in Varangia, a small group of humans were trekking through the cold forest. Despite the thick layer of fur on their coats, they could still feel the cold chill seeping into their bones. The leading tracker stopped the group and fished out a crumpled map. After getting his bearings, he pulled out an older map and compared the two maps side by side.

“Huh. This might be the furthest anyone has ever been,” the man commented with a proud tone.

“Really, boss man?”

“Aye. Look, this map is made by the lads at the Rhankia’s Cartography Guild. And this one’s by the northmen.” The leader pointed at the old map, then at the middle point of the printed map. “They thought this is where the edge of the world is at. What a bunch of lazy fools.”

“I can’t believe the northmen are letting us have the honor of furthering the sight of Humanos.”

“Only the demons would dare stop us now.” Just as he said that, one of the trees turned to him. “What the-”

The trackers froze as the leader’s head went flying. The man’s body didn’t even register what happened, and it stood for a full minute before falling down.

“KOJANS!” someone shouted at the top of their lungs. Weapons were drawn immediately as they rushed to meet the armed tree-being. The kojan brandished his long blade and swiftly cut several men with one swing. As he raised his weapon again, it was impaled with several javelins and spears.

His seemingly weakened state encouraged several men to turn and flee, but they were swiftly chased down and cut into pieces.

“Brothers, we won’t escape this place alive so let us meet again when we are one! Humanos! Watch us!” A man howled as he set a long branch on fire and charged head first at the rampaging being. Though he was quickly cut down, his actions caused many of the trackers to renew their assault with greater ferocity.

Every slash took the life of another victim, but the humans retaliated heavily. When it seemed that the trackers were about to win, several men were cut down from behind.

“So it’s true that we won’t escape. Forget living in this realm, brethren,” someone bemoaned in defeat.

In less than a minute, no one was left standing but the two warrior-treants. They wiped the blood from their blade, lined the bodies, and assorted the weapons of the fallen.

“Do we bury?” a kojan asked.

“If there are some humans here, there must be more nearby. We’ll have to scout around if we want to bury them.”

The other kojan nodded. “Let’s go. The sooner we bury them, the earlier we can give them respect.”

The two kojans bowed at the dead men then sprinted away, blending into the dark forest with their blackened bark-like skin. Unbeknownst to them, though, a spider drone was hidden carefully atop the trees.

‘More bodies to feed the endless machine,’ Custodian remarked.