Only two remained within the basement at this particular time.

Although Malt and Alexi sat relatively at ease within their earthen cocoon, the tension emanating from the meeting above could still be felt, and it was palpable. The news was likely of no real surprise to the perceptive village folk, but the truth of the situation was no less dire.

As for Malt, well, he had better things to be doing.

He dragged the thick blade of his messer to and fro along the whetstone on his lap, each fluid movement making the steel’s bite that much more viscous. His hands worked with a certain finesse and skill, a testament to the number of times he had done this.

The other watched him as he did this, eyes raised just above the novel in his shackled hand.

“I’ve suspected for a while, but you’re a Red aren’t you?”

Malt’s eyes lifted from his work for a moment, before falling back into his lap. “If you mean an Astoundrian, then yeah, more or less.”

His brow raised slightly, “I get us Khods being here, but how’d you manage to make your way to this hellhole? You don’t strike me as the type to dessert.”

A few moments passed before his response. “Got caught up in that shitshow at the mill. Fell into a river and, well, here I am.”

“You must want to get back then...or not I suppose.” His eyes drifted upward to the earthen ceiling. “Haven’t seen whatever goes on up there, but it seems a whole lot better than that dinky little fort you Reds were holed in. In fact I’d wager that applies even more so now.”

Malt’s ear almost seemed to twitch.

The captive’s eyes locked onto this movement as a little smirk stretched across his face. “Something I say catch your interest?”

Malt was more than aware of the game he was trying to play. After a bit of deliberation, he deemed that there was no harm in negotiation.

“Let’s cut the wordplay, what’s in it for you?”

Alexi swallowed down a little gulp before continuing.

“All I ask, is that when you leave, bring me with y-”

“Yeah that’s not happening.”

The prisoner pushed onward, his only weapon at the moment was perseverance.

“I’m not asking you to sneak me out, I just need you to put in a good word with that old man. You can toss me wherever once we cross the border. I just need to-”

“Honestly, I don’t care about what you need to do. Letting you roam free would cause way too many problems and frankly, that’s a pain in the ass I can live without.”

“Are you not curious as to why Dagridge is so neglected? Why it doesn’t receive adequate supplies despite being in such a key position? Why they don’t send one of those oh-so powerful heroes to end this squabble once and for all? Despite the fact that the war in the North is reaching a lull?”

Malt’s hands stopped completely this time, the blade audibly coming to a halt. These were matters that no longer held meaning to him, at least not at the moment.

Of course he knew he needed to return at some point. Even though he’d suffer much more if he returned. Even though he could live a relatively peaceful existence here, amongst those who had more or less become family to him. There was no doubt that he cared for those in the village much more than those at Dagridge, and he owed nothing to the Kingdom of Astoundria.

Yet something still urged him to return.

Some compelling force that was uncharacteristic of him. Maybe it was a mere vestige of the Malt that had existed before, the naive self that he felt fading into oblivion with every passing day.

Or maybe it was something else. Another force altogether that he had come to discover within his time here. He thought back to his decision to come to the southern front in the first place, and was quite honestly baffled by the stupidity of it all. It was a completely irrational choice that did nothing but put himself in danger for a nation he had no reason to care for.

And now, he felt a similar compulsion. A gnawing anxiety in the back of his mind that pushed him to return, despite the troubles it would incite.

Whatever it was, he was beginning to get the feeling that it was beyond himself. To call it ‘fate’ would be naive, but it was definitely something not unlike it.

Eventually, he caved in to curiosity.

“I can guarantee your life after all this is over. Nothing more.”

Alexi allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

His plan had worked. He had given an offer much too high in order for Malt to be more inclined to accept a lower one, which was in fact what he was hoping for all along. Now whether Malt had fallen for this, or if he’d caught on and just played along, he did not know; not that it made much of a difference.

“Sounds like a deal. What do you want to hear about first?”

“Dagrdige, how’s it holding up?” His priorities were made very clear with this.

“Keep in mind us grunts aren’t told much tactics wise, but I’d say I’m one of the perceptive sort.”

Malt had resumed his sharpending, but this couldn’t hide his investment in the information being spilled.

Alexi continued, “After you guys razed the mill we had no choice but to continue trying to overtake the keep.”

“Still?”

He let out a dry chuckle, “I had that exact same reaction. I’d never thought of my countrymen as more dumb than that moment. I thought they just refused to yield, driven by their own pride.”

“You’re telling me there’s some other reason?”

He gave a little smirk. Despite the fact that they were literally the farthest away from anyone whom this information could compromise, the captive’s eyes still scanned about as he leaned forward.

“I’m sure you’ve had the same thought at some point as well. That there’s someone behind the scenes of it all. As inflexible and over-prideful as the Khodor high command is, especially those of the Bruk’bar sort, they are still extremely experienced. There’s no way they can’t recognize how stupid of a predicament this all is.”

Malt nodded a few times, “I’d always wondered why you guys didn’t just go around us. Yeah we might’ve stung your asses a bit as you passed, but the casualties you suffered were much worse.”

“That’s about where the educated speculation ends. I’ve still no clue who this third party is, or why they find it fit to sacrifice so many lives for their cause.”

“Makes you wonder what it is they’re aiming for.”

Alexi’s eyes glinted with intrigue. It was as if he’e been searching for someone else to spill this information to.

“The ‘what’ isn’t nearly as important as the ‘when’ in our case.”

Malt’s eyes flicked up at him for a second. “Care to elaborate?”

He took a moment to wet his lips, “I managed to catch some rumors before I fled. Note that this was literally in the hours leading up to my escape though, so I didn’t get to see if this info is true or not.”

“Nough’ with the prefacing already, get onto the meat of it.”

The informant clicked his tongue, but continued nonetheless.

“The war up north of Astoundria, I hear it’s fallen into a lull.”

“I thought you said they were doing well just a second ago?”

“Well they are...probably, but it looks like the demons have gone completely defensive. I’d wager there’s some issues with public order within, something of that sort.”

Malt’s brow scrunched together, “Why not just punch through then?”

A sigh escaped Alexi’s mouth, “Man I dunno. Maybe they’re scared? Lazy? Taking a tea break? These are rumors I say, ru-mors.”

Malt looked at him with a mix of disdain and slight incredulousness. He shook his head, bringing his attention back to more important matters.

“I’m guessing this means the south is finally getting the reinforcements they need?”

“Well yes, but no.”

“...what?”

Alexi nodded his head in a manner that implied the situation was really something in between.

“I mean yes, your side’ll likely be getting some fresh new troops. But on the other hand, I doubt the person causing the whole debacle in the south wants this to happen.”

Malt nodded in quiet realization. “I see what you’re getting at. Whoever caused the shitshow at Dagridge is probably scrambling to accomplish whatever it is they want to right now.” He gestured with his head, making a concession. “Given that all this info isn’t horseshit.”

Ignoring that last statement with a twitch, Alexi nodded in affirmation. “Something’s comin’. And it’s gonna be big.”

Malt ran a hand through his hair, dragging some strands along with it.

“So that means I’ve about...what, a month or two to get back if I want to help with whatever’s going down.”

“We, you mean.”

“...yeah whatever dude.”

Malt placed the whetstone onto a table, bringing the glistening messer’s crossguard to his face. After lightly scraping his forearm with the wickedly sharp blade, and seeing his little hairs shaved off with ease, a little smile appeared on his face. The other looked at him anxiously as he did this. He was beginning to piece together the fact that it might not have been the old man that had done the slaughtering during the time of his capture.

Malt slid the messer back into its scabbard with a satisfying click, leaning it against an adjacent table.

“Never mind all that though, we’ve much more important matters at hand.” He dusted off his pants and stood with a grunt. He was beginning to hear footsteps up above, most of them quicker and more erratic than they were earlier.

Malt began making his way up the staircase, stretching as he did so.

Alexi called out before he could escape.

“Don’t forget to tell the old man about our deal, okay?”

Malt let out a long yawn, “Yeah yeah will do. Probably.”

“...that last part was a joke right?”

Malt continued, closing the door to the basement with a hefty thump. Leaving Alexi anxious and unsure seemed to be a theme around this household.