Rolf was dragged into Kram's tent by two muscular blood guards. Kram was seated in a massive Elkhorn chair, head lolled to one side and watched as Rolf struggled to break free from his blood guards's hold.

When Rolf held Kram's gaze, he pouted and stared at the his adopted father with distaste. Kram had tormented him through out his entire life, humiliating him, embarrassing him in front of everyone. All he cared was if Rolf would grew up to be one of the killing machines that would do his bidding mindlessly.

Kram waved a hand at the blood guard. They let go of Rolf and exit the room. When the two blood guards had disappeared, Kram gestured Rolf to get closer.

"Come here, boy."

Rolf hesitated and didn't move.

"I said closer!"

Kram shouted, his voice was thunder. Rolf was startled by Kram's outburst of anger, and so were the thrall who were still tied to the bed. The girl's surprised jerk caught Rolf's attention. He scanned the room, and found that the thrall was no longer in tattered cloth; she was given some proper clothing to cover her body.

Reckoned that he had no other options, Rolf inched forward until he was only an arms's reach with Kram.

"Closer."Kram spoke under his breath, almost whispering.

Realization finally dawned upon Rolf as he registered that Kram was going to tell him something that was meant to be a secret.

Looking down, Rolf inched forward slowly and hesitantly.

Suddenly, Kram grabbed the hemp satchel hitched to Rolf's belt and felt its content with his fingers. Inside, Kram felt the icy touch of the cold silver and a broken shaft.

Rolf turned to a bundle of nerves. Before he could improvise an excise, he caught the glimpse of a giant fist coming at his face.

Rolf raised one arm to cushion the blow, but it was too late. The callused knuckles skinned pass Rolf's elbow and landed a solid blow on the boy's face.

Rolf felt the world turning dark and his legs gave in. His weight brought him down to the ground.

The thrall gasped at this turn of event.

"I...I..." Rolf was trying to plead for his life, but Kram didn't listen.

The barbarian chieftain stood up, his hulking framed loomed above Rolf.

"You little shit!" Kram cursed quietly and then kicked in Rolf's side.

Rolf winced, the dizziness in his brain didn't dull the pain.

"You little SHIT!" Kram cursed again and kicked Rolf one more time. Winded, Rolf opened his mouth and struggled to catch a breath.

Kram picked up the satchel from the floor and took out the Blood Drinker in two pieces. The edge of the battle ax was covered with dried blood. Kram brought the ax closer and sniffed it: Yeti blood. He reached into the bag and found the Ice Giant's toe. Suddenly he knew what Rolf had done with the ax.

"Fool!" Kram grunted.

Rolf dragged himself to his feet and backed away from Kram , but he didn't dare leave the tent without Kram's permission. He preyed to all the gods that he knew of for Kram to spare his life.

Kram shot Rolf an accusatory glance. It took Rolf by surprise to see that Kram's face didn't held the intent to kill, but it was filled with helplessness of an old man.

Kram knew he was too old to lord over the band like a twenty year old brute who could swing a two hundred pound war hammer. Therefore, his dominance over the clan had to be established upon other sources of force, such as magic.

During every raid to nearby villages, he made sure to put on a show of strength for his raiding party. When that happened, the entire party would circle around to witness the great power at Kram's command. It was the moment of worshiping. It had became a ritual between Kram and his soldiers, a spell that he had cast on the mind of young barbarians. Without the ax, the spell would break and so would Kram's authority. As anger surged inside of Kram, he raised his fist and was about to hit Rolf again.

"Wait! I have brought you someone who can fix it!" Rolf stoop over and bury his head in his arms and chest as he announced the news.

Kram's fist didn't came, so Rolf thought that his plead had worked. However, even as he raised his head , Kram pounded a fist squarely on Rolf's face. For a brief moment Rolf was unconscious. Kram lifted the boy by the collar and pinned him to the wall.

"Who?" Kram asked hotly. "No one can fix a legendary weapon other than a dwarf smith, you idiot!" Kram still kept his voice low. It was already late morning, most barbs were up and about their business around the camp. Kram didn't want other's to heard him losing of power.

"The red bearded little man from the city!" Rolf shouted frantically, hopping to stop the next blow.

Kram's face soften a little, and then he let go of Rolf from the chocking hold.

"Where is he right now?" Kram asked with a dark face.

"I hit him and he passed out, so I tied him to the post just by the camp entrance."

Benmar was the only person on the tundra who would fix Blood Drinker. In the old days, Kram could have ridden a fortnight to the city and bring the ax to the dwarf, but not with the tension so damn high in the city between human and non-humans. No Barbarians had entered the city alive for five years. The sharpshooters guarding the wall would snipe off any barbarians from miles away. There were barbs that had chosen to live in the city, but they were not allowed to leave the city, if they were still alive that was. Kram heaved a sigh. He was slightly relieved knowing that Benmar was in his camp.

"Where did you find him?" Kram's voice softened significantly.

"On the trail. I have just finished dealing with the Yeti, and there he was. Look, Kram. I am sorry that I broke your ax. I needed it so that I can prove myself a warrior. I can't stand living with a bunch of bullies that doesn't take me seriously. I am a man now, I have killed a Yeti and —"

"You what?" A voice boomed from the threshold of the tent. Both Kram and Rolf turned their heads toward the speaker: It was Bolan. His seven feet tall body blocked the entrance of the tent and even from a distance, Rolf can smell the stench of vomit and ale coming off from hime.

This was it! Rolf's eyes were lit up by excitement. Let Bolan the Rock be the first one to be impressed by his trophy! Rolf thought to himself.

Rolf buffed out his chest, cleared his throat and mustered as much manliness in his voice as a sixteen year old teenage boy would:"I—have—killed—a—Yeti!" Rolf pronounced every syllabus clearly and loudly with a great measure of proud.

Bolan paused for a second and then said indifferently:"No, I meant what you said before that." His voice was flat and seemed not at all impressed by Rolf's achievements.

Rolf swallowed down his disappointment and mused about what Bolan meant. "Well... I said I took the —"

"You mean you WILL take the broken ax to the shorty! " Kram cut him short.

Rolf looked to Kram, and then looked at Bolan and back at Kram again. "Yes. Yes. I will! Right away."

As Rolf moved toward the exist, Bolan did not move out of the way.

"I have heard you said you have stolen the ax." Bolan said with a despised look on his face.

"No... No I didn't. You must have misheard." Stealing from any Barbarian was punishable by death, much less stealing from a chieftain. Rolf stooped to skin through in between the tent and Bolan's large frame but Bolan moved to block his way.

"I have heard you said it loud and clear, Rat boy. You got balls. What do you say chieftain? Let's feed him to the wolves pups, not enough meat for the full grown ice wolf anyway."

"Hey! Who do you think you are, Bolan. Kram hasn't spoken yet." Rolf said hotly.

"Ah-Ha. So you don't deny that you are a thief?"

"Bastard!" Rolf 's face was flushing red and he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"What is it rat boy? Thief!" Bolan hissed.

"Enough!"

Kram's voice boomed. Suddenly, the room fell pin drop quiet.

"Rolf didn't steal it. It was the dwarf. Rolf had caught him stealing the ax and That impish daemon broke the damn thing while he tried to escape. He will have to fix it, he is a weapon smith after all." Kram said.

"No way—" Bolan protested but he was cut short by Kram.

"That will be all. I want to hear no more of your nonsense!"

"You have to honor our tradition and out law. If you are too old to do it, someone else will do it for you!" Bolan was getting bolder, in part because he knew Kram had lost his ax.

"Hey, Shut up you jerk!" Rolf rose to Bolan's comment, but the latter didn't even spare him a glance.

Bolan scanned the room and found the thrall lying on the ground. He pointed to her and said to Kram:"I want her back."

"Back off." Kram hissed and locked his stern gaze on Bolan's eyes. No one spoke in the room, dragging out the silence.

Bolan looked back and forth between his prize and Kram.

"This is the last warning, young man." Kram said seriously. His dark eyes glinted and it started to glow.

Bolan had seen it many times on the battle field when Kram's eyes turned into two pool of crimson blood as the Blood Drinker sucked the living energy out of his opponent. It was a terrifying sight and also the defining moment of Kram's absolute authority. Bolan noticed the hunk of cold silver in Kram's hand started to gleam. The interlocking patterns on the check of the ax lite up as if glowing blood was flowing through them.

Bolan started to waver, he knew he was no match against Kram by himself. He blinked once and twice, and then eventually lowered his head and broke the hold of Kram's gaze: It was a sign of submission.

Registering Bolan's retreat, Kram's eyes slowly returned normal color while the crimson glow on the ax faded.