"The world is full enough of hurts and mischances without wars to multiply them."

― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

"They are going to kill the last tree?" Mireille whispered furiously and looked at the departing machines.

"I…" Alyssa was lost for words.

Alea lowered her head and clenched her hands.

"Why are you still standing here? We have to continue our route. The main camp is about a day's march to the northwest." The Lieutenant called back irritably as he adjusted the straps of his backpack, trying for a more comfortable position. "If we dawdle, we will be caught in the open, and I, for my part, won't enjoy that."

Mireille sought eye-contact with Alyssa, her whole person seemingly asking for an answer.

"We can't simply go and attack the loggers or something like that. I hate it more than I can say, but what would we do then? Emigrate to the Kingdoms of the Broken?" Alyssa whispered.

Alea had listened quietly and now interjected softly, "We could ask Vanessa to sabotage them. If Iseret is with her, it's even better. I would like to take action myself, but until we get the chance to talk to Lieseleta or my family, we have no power to make demands."

"But if they have killed the last one too because we hesitated?" Mireille whispered back.

"I don't think it will be that easy. The squad that killed the dryads should still be nearby. That we have not seen it might be because it wasn't quite that easy; perhaps there are wounded. We should try to ask." Alyssa mused.

The group sorted itself, and with Philias, the Lieutenant, in the lead, they marched into the snow-covered forest.

Alea hugged herself and leaned over to Alyssa, saying, "I feel a bit bad pushing all of that on Vanessa and especially Iseret; she has nothing to do with all of that."

"She should have her considerations. Asandria is quite furious, and Vanessa should be the same. I feel that elves might like dryads quite a bit." Alyssa replied.

"And what if it works for a few days, and they call in more people?" Mireille frowned as she said this.

"We have to get a message to Lieseleta. She would help if she knew." Alea looked uncomfortable.

Vivienne followed their conversation with interest, but as she heard the last sentence, she snorted. "I do think she has quite enough on her platter to be concerned about the army and the dealings of big trading houses. I fear our best bet is to make it costly and so no longer interesting. They do it because there is profit to be had. If that goes away, they will cease. Proud merchants are poor merchants, as they say back in Kruoghs reach."

"Easier said than done."

Meanwhile, the group was trudging through the snow until they reached the forest's edge, where a small path led into the twilight between the trees.

"Shouldn't we simply knock them out and then go and help the dryad?" Mireille said half-jokingly.

"Don't you dare," Alea grumbled.

Valens softly cleared his throat. "They have lived so long they will endure for a day longer."

"The others didn't." Alyssa lowered her head. Her void magic seemed to be sensing her emotions, or probably her control became lacking the more distracted she became; in the sight of her left eye, she saw wisps of dark flame brush across trees and underbrush, wilting leaves, and rotting bark. Gritting her teeth, she grasped her left arm and pressed it to her chest.

Morten squinted and shielded his eyes with his right hand. The sunlight shining through the gaps left by the fallen forest giants was unexpectedly fierce.

One of his men walked up to him and gestured with his head toward the massive oak tree dominating the center. "We finally fell her? What about the wood-women the last time we had to get the army, and Bjorn was injured for a week."

"Don't worry, the squad we got last time will go in first."

"Is it really worth it? I know we get paid for extra danger, but it's not that much more than we could make near a stream down south, and there are fewer beasties to bite our heads off."

"There are lots of desperate people that will work for a hot meal. Gotta stay competitive." Morten's grin uncovered several blackened teeth.

They stood in silence and observed the flowers and green leaves growing in the middle of a snowed-in forest.

"Gets you every time. Eh?" Borek chewed on some jerky.

"It's unnatural and not that useful. If you could plant some corn 'round here, that would be another thing, but I hear that farmland kills the magic or something like that."

After about an hour of waiting, there came the sound of metal on metal and tramping feet, and a group of soldiers, breastplates padded with wool hefting shields and spears, as well as some armed with crossbows, marched into view.

A man of about forty years with silvered hair and a four-day stubble nodded a greeting. "Morten. Need our help again?"

"I think it would be best to be sure. It was costly the last time we thought that our machines and axes would be sufficient."

"No one died, or did that southerner bite the dust in the end?"

"No, Bjorn survived, but one of our constructs was damaged beyond field-repair, and most of us were wounded. Don't know what you think we are hired for." Morten frowned in dissatisfaction.

The older man gave a short laugh. "Well. Here we are. I need one of yours to take his axe to the big tree, then they should show themselves, and we can get to work."

"Istvan. You could simply hack the tree yourself; no one of my men would have to take the risk!"

"Get to it, no discussion."

Grumbling, Morten grabbed one of the loggers, "Get an axe and hack that tree over there. No need to be fancy; several strong swings should do it. If anything changes or happens, you get out of there, understand?"

"Ah, yes, will do." The man scratched his head, and light blue eyes looked dully at the ground before he grabbed a sizeable woodsman's axe and, after testing the heft, turned to go.

“So, keep him alive will ya?” Morten glared at Istvan.

"Not going yourself? Tsk." Istvan gestured his men, and the crossbowmen fanned out and took position beside some of the bigger tree stumps while the spearmen advanced.

The logger called back, "This one? Morten, sir?"

"Yes! Hurry up; we don't got all day!"

The axe glinted in the sunlight as large muscles strained the fabric of the woolen shirt covering his upper arms. Then the blade arced toward the oak tree.

With a surprised look on his face, the logger turned around. The axe dragged through the flowers blooming on the ground; a slender arrow lodged in his left eye, and with an absentminded gesture, he grabbed for it before pitching forward, falling heavily to the ground.

"We are under attack!"

Between the trees, a figure rose, and another arrow flew before embedding deeply into a hastily raised shield.

"Damn it all!" Morten cursed and ordered his men to fall back toward the constructs. "Seek cover!"

Bolts shot from the crossbow-wielding soldiers before several arrows severely wounded three of them.

"Back!" Istvan gestured, and then concentrated metallic light shone from his upper arm and several shards of razor-sharp steel shot from his palm, cutting into and through the foliage and small branches, eliciting a suppressed scream.

"Forward!"

The soldiers hefted their shields and began to advance when several hulking forms burst from the woods covered in furs and wielding axes or warhammers they charged the line of the kingdom's troops. Snow flew from low hanging branches and yellow or dark orange eyes, great canines, and wolf ears clearly showed them to be wolf-tribe.

The tribesmen- and women- were on average larger and more massively built, but the one leading the charge was another head taller than even the biggest of his men. Swinging the warhammer with one hand and striking with the claws of the other, he assaulted Istvan, who conjured a floating shield of metal while backpedaling toward the relative safety of the shield line. The massive hammerhead shaped like a snarling wolf crunched into the magic metal and ripped a hole in the center with the tortured scream of rending steel.

Several crossbow bolts shot forth and claimed their red due among the tribal warriors before those crashed into their opponents. One of those bolts struck the oak tree in the center, and for a moment, the light seemed to intensify, becoming gold-green as snowflakes vanished into mist or a light drizzle and warmth permeated the air.

Everything seemed to slow and then speed up again as a willowy woman stepped out of the tree. Her hair the color of autumn leaves, her body clad in woven vines and flowers, she wielded a rod of white birch sprouting fresh leaves along its length. Her eyes were deep forest pools of black and green hinting at unseen depths.

She looked around and saw her fallen sisters; clear saplike tears fell from her eyes as a perfectly formed mouth tried to frame a question.

Istvan looked at the forces arrayed before him and violently spread his arms shooting slivers of metal in a cone before him, peppering the attacking force and causing them to hesitate. "Retreat!"

Two other branded among the army troops covered their retreat with waterbolts and flaming missiles. The loggers had long since activated the constructs and retreated with the soldiers.

The tribesmen held their position several of the injured were dragged toward the dryad, who called green energies from the ground to heal their wounds.

The hulking warrior leading the group paced impatiently, watching his departing enemies.

"Why not kill some more?" A deep voice sounded from his right.

He gave an answering growl and looked at his mate, a woman wielding a two-handed axe, hair woven into a long braid dancing on her back ornamented with bones, "We are but scouts who were already near. The Lord is coming with the host, and our blood is his to shed. We are not young pups fresh out for blood forgetting the purpose of the hunt."

Even as he scolded her, the words were spoken without rancor.

"One or two dead rustmen would have cost us nothing."

"True. But I did not want to risk a fight near Sirviel. She is not in a good state with her sisters dead."

The trek back to the logger's camp was a silent affair. The one water-branded used his powers to staunch the bleeding of several deep wounds and had to be carried the rest of the way on the steel arms of one of the constructs.

Istvan's face was grim, and as soon as they reached the clearing, he gave a series of orders, and his men began to gather logs and branches to fortify the loghouse.

Grabbing a crystal tablet, he injected some mana with a murmured word of command, and soon a sparrow made of grey dust sat on the back of his hand. "Tribesmen have attacked us. A group of perhaps twenty all in all, but they had the support of one or more of their windsingers. I request urgent reinforcements."

Some ways to the northwest, a wooden palisade enclosed a small army camp sitting on top of a gently sloping hill overlooking one of the hundred streams giving the lands to the north their name.

The commander looked at the messenger sparrow as it disintegrated into motes of magelight and then looked at the man sitting opposite his desk. The young blonde noble wearing the colors of the house of Nordstrom grinned, having heard some of the message.

The older man frowned, "Did you already know this would be happening? If that is the case and you did not warn us I will…"

"No, you misunderstand." The commander's face turned dark at the interruption, but the young noble seemingly did not notice, "I was only glad that our help is going to be needed so soon. I would have preferred to sit out the winter before my hearth fire in my wife's company, but as the patriarch would have it, I'm here. It's much better to be useful and needed than to only freeze my toes off for no gain at all. Am I right?" He took another sip of the mulled wine in his earthenware goblet.

The commander schooled his features and stood extending his hand, which the noble grasped after standing hurriedly. "I, by the power invested in my office, accept the generously offered help of the duchy of Nordmark. The men will be added as auxiliaries. I trust you will have no problems following my orders Sir Lars von Nordstrom?"

"No, I look forward to working together."