The Routine Escort (Chapter 1/21?)

         Cold mist swirled around and mixed with warm smoke rising from a large pile of smoldering rubble. The skeleton of a school, a once-grand building full of life, students, and mages. The most historic building in the city; reduced to waste in a matter of hours. Even the moon seemed dull and saddened, with her rays barely touching a pair of men. One stood tall and proud with a sword on his hip and a torch planted next to him. The other sat below him with his pearly arms bound behind his back, attached to a metal collar. Which sat over a red cape of hair, covering the prisoner in a red shroud.

         Without any living and credible witnesses, the only person found was suspected of the fire that destroyed the school. A well-known criminal in the city, so it seemed likely he had done it.

         “Commander, we found a mage,” a strong voice spoke up from the building.

         Jale—a tall, dark-skinned man—brought his piercing blue gaze from the prisoner to an approaching pair of men. One was shorter, with rugged blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a large scar across his right cheek. The scar stood out as a pink mark on his bronze skin. The second was taller, though shorter than Jale, with brown shaggy hair and brown eyes. His skin was lighter than the other two men, though noticeably darker than the prisoner. Both the men had small bulges on their bottom lips. And they both wore matching dull-gray breastplates that had a boar's head engraved on them. Paired with gray wristguards which had a tusk carved on each piece. This separated Jale, whose breastplate had a blue-outlined boar charging. Under the obvious armor, they all wore leather tunics, thick hide pants, and tall leather boots.

         The shortest man held a burnt corpse, which had a melted gold necklace tangled in his flesh. There was only one mage in this school who wore a gold necklace. A small red shimmer covered the living man's arms as he carried the body with unnatural ease.

         With a bow of his head, the tall man took a moment to give the dead man a prayer. Mage Levitt Malin, with my respect and appreciation. I offer comfort in knowing you will be missed but honored. Reach your peace. Silent words so the Divines could hear the honesty. Humans may have acted like ruthless creatures that thought they controlled everything. But Jale knew they couldn't, this accident was more proof of that.

         After the moment of silence, the guy with the long red hair gasped quietly, the chains clinking as he tried to look up. He appeared distressed, a touch upset, his green eyes shining with emotion. “I—I didn't mean to! He was dead when I found him…”

         The way this man spoke stabbed the commander with conflict. It sounded so sincere like he grieved over or regretted something, but Jale knew his citizens. And this one would do everything he could to get out of punishment.

         “So, you did start the fire,” Jale said coldly, glaring down at the chained man.

         More metallic clicking as the prisoner tried to look up. “It wasn't my fault! I can't always control it!”

         Lifting his hand, the commander glanced at the short blonde man. “James, take Mage Levitt to his family.” Switching his gaze to the taller man, he added, “Sah, go get a wagon and Derik. Tell the mayor who's responsible for the fire and death of Mage Levitt.”

         As he brought his harsh eyes back down, Jale lowered his hand to dismiss his men. “I think it's time Mr. Snyder met The King.”

         The chained man let out a chilling wail and pushed his head back. Dull metal dug into his skin as he peered under his brows up at the commander. “That's not fair! I didn't kill him!”

         A snort sounded from James as the pair walked off, leaving Jale alone with his prisoner.

         “You don't deserve the mercy of our prisons. Not this time. I'm done giving you second chances.” The tall man knelt down so he could look into the green eyes. “I can't allow danger in my city.”

         Pink lips quivered as the prisoner thought up a reply, his bottom lip missing the bulge that Sah and James had. A few seconds later and the lips parted and pursed as the pale man spat at Jale. “I'm not dangerous.”

         Jale wiped the insult off his cheek and watched the smaller man breathe hard and quick. And although adrenaline was visible in him, so was fear. “You just destroyed a large stone building in less than an hour, and walked out of the burning building untouched by the fire.” He stood up. “The journey to Selude is long, longer in this heat. Don't waste all your energy now.”

         The chained man grunted as his green eyes lit up in emotion. Faint purple specks began to swirl into ribbons as he pulled his hands apart as far as he could. Squeals of protest came from the metal chains as their captive fought to break free. “I've escaped you before… What makes this time different?”

         “Tell me, Snyder, do you know what the most dangerous creature in these swamps is? Or where to find water?” The commander asked, his fingers resting on the white hilt of his sword. While he had no intention of hurting him, should the warlock escape the chains he may have no choice.

         His prisoner didn't answer; the struggle to break the chains continued.

         Jale watched him for a moment. Desperate to avoid the king. I can't imagine Maverin would appreciate an unhinged warlock running around. I wonder if his elves could snap whatever is loose back into place. If things were any different, we could've been protecting this city together. But, he would kill you.

         A sharp whinny broke through the misty smoke. Stealing the attention of the commander, a large black beast of a horse approached. His green eyes shone and radiated through the haze. Matched by his hooves, which reflected against the cobblestone path, and set of large stripes on his shoulders. All shimmered in the gloomy night. Behind the horse, a large grey-wood wagon rolled. Thick silver metal built a cage in the back of the vehicle. Wood grinding against stone could be heard under the strong hoofbeats as the vehicle rolled up to the tall man. Atop the bench sat Sah and another brunette man.

         “Commander, your wagon as requested,” Sah said. As he spoke, small tusks could be seen poking out behind his bottom lip.

         Jale gave an acknowledging nod, releasing the hilt of his sword. Hissing through his teeth, he leaned down to grab the chains of the struggling man. “I told you not to waste your energy. The elves made these chains specifically for you. Your maegik won’t work while you’re wearing them.” He pulled the prisoner up, forcing him to stand with a single arm. The prisoner was light despite his wide shoulders, not a very big man.

         Sah glanced at them. “Arson, murder, destruction of a landmark… More to come I'm sure. You've really outdone yourself, Snyder.”

         A snort came from the prisoner. “I'll claim all those, but I did not kill Levitt!”

         “Save your breath. You'll probably want it when you're screaming your soul out.” Sah countered as Jale pushed the prisoner into the step.

         Without any further protests, the pale man climbed into the wagon, finding the bench inside and sitting down. His long red hair grazed the floor of his cell as he sat on the locks.

         The commander locked and secured the cell, watching his prisoner from the corner of his eyes. Once confident it was secure, he approached the horse, laying a hand on the large black beast’s flank. With his hand on the animal, he could feel the power and strength of the creature's huge muscles. But also aggression. Running his hand up to the harness around the stallion's chest, he observed the glimmering streak on his shoulder.

         “They told me he was raised raw.” The new brunette, Derik, glanced around. He was stout, with wide shoulders and a square jaw, hazel eyes, and tanned skin. “Are we waiting for anyone else, sir?”

         Jale nodded. “I see. We'll feed you a rabbit in the morning then, Flinte,” his voice was soft to the horse. Then patted the horse on the neck then moved back to climb onto the bench. “James. We need two people to watch the back as we walk.” His voice was no longer soft as he addressed the men. “We'll cycle through sitting on the back, I don't want any of my fine men corrupted by his foul trickery.”

         Sah bowed his head gently in understanding and handed the commander the reins. “Will the trolls bother us?”

         Pausing to think, Jale tilted his head back and forth. “I doubt it, they don't come that close to the roads anymore. But if they do, we'll be ready.”

         “Plus, they usually stay out of our prisoner escorts,” Derik added.

         When James met up with them, the commander decided James and Derik could start in the back, with the four ready and armed, they set off into the growing night. Through the dark they traveled, hoping to get ahead of a building storm. Once a solid hour on the road had passed, they had come to a small watering hole and Jale decided to stop, knowing good and well how dangerous night in the wetlands is. Trolls weren't the only threat, plenty of animals wouldn't mind a feast of human flesh. Thankfully the night brought no trouble, and the commander awoke to a meal being cooked. Smelled meaty, but oddly sweet. He could tell by the sugary hints underlying the savory scent it was a deer. The marsh deer were known for their natural sugar levels, which came from their diet of sugar reeds, and brought their meat a sweet taste even when plain.

         He sat up from the ground, bringing his sight up to speed to match his other senses. Prisoner escorts were never fun; he hated taking criminals to Selude, but his job demanded it. Why couldn't I have picked a different job… I could be on a farm somewhere, nowhere near the trolls or a warlock. Though they often carried mages that tried various spells to escape, a warlock threatened to make his fear of maegik visible. An uncontrollable creature infused with the power of an ancient human, torn apart from the inside from the demands of the energy. Not exactly Jale’s first choice for a travel partner.

         Shaking the sleep off, he brought his frame up and onto his feet, checking the surrounding landscape. Faded tones met his gaze; thirsty grey plants begged for a drink, what was supposed to be dark brown mud had been hardened into solid dry ground, which cracked and crumbled. The drought made the dangerous land even more hostile as everything here wanted moisture, even if it was blood—if the heat didn’t get you first. He had memories of the land being lush and green, with the healthy plants giving a blue tint and the dark brown mud tempting kids to play in it. With the promise of a storm, these memories attempted to come back.

         “Commander, should we give the prisoner any food?”

         Jale turned to the man who asked him the question, James. His trusted lieutenant was securing his breastplate back on, the dull grey metal was scuffed and showed wear. While some of his men took various bits of armor off to sleep, the commander preferred to keep his on while out of the city. And, seeing James mess with his armor made his leather tunic feel bunched and crinkled, so he pulled on his underclothes a bit as he moved his blue gaze to the wagon where the red-haired man lay curled up on the floor in a rather peaceful-looking slumber.

         With a sigh, he shook his head. “We'll give him food at our next stop. Make sure Flinte is fed, I promised him a rabbit,” he answered, heading towards the wagon.

         Along the way, the tall man had grabbed a single mug and filled it with clean water. Reaching the cell, he banged the sturdy container against the metal.

         “Get up. This is your only chance for a drink before nightfall. And in this heat, I suggest you take this offer.”

         The prisoner squirmed at the abrupt awakening, coming to his senses concerningly fast. He stood and lunged for the drink quick enough to force the commander to step back in hesitation.

         Jale narrowed his eyes at the smaller man, before holding the mug through the bars. “Try anything and we'll feed you to the horse out here.”

         The pale man nodded, having to drink with the help of the commander due to his bound hands. He took in the liquid with haste and his face grew relaxed. Jale watched the prisoner retreat to the far side of the cage, stretching his back in a small curve before finding the seat and looking around at the scenery.

{{i}indent}Odd, he seems too content now. He silently commented before returning to the small campfire. Brushing the last sleepy haze off, the tall man worked on cleaning up the small camp, helping his men roll up the leather from their sleeping spots and put the fire out—completely. Sah and Derik both had to strap their shin guards on, and everyone had to get their swords.

         Once everything was packed away, and everyone armed and armored once more, James worked on passing out portions of the venison to each of them. Jale nearly passed up the food but knew he had to eat, even if he wasn’t hungry. He accepted the meat and joined the others on a nearby log.

         “Commander, I think the horse needs more water,” Derik said.

         The commander let his gaze fall onto the stallion standing nearby, the creature had his head lower than normal and seemed to be interested in the plants around him. All wildlife knew how to get water from the fauna, even with the drought. But, the domesticated beasts have never needed to learn this talent, and Flinte was suffering because of it.

         “There's not enough water in this place anymore... The Divines must hate us,” Jale said with a sigh. “Let me take him to the watering hole again, he'll need as much as he can get there before we leave.”

         James hummed thoughtfully around his bite of food. “Sir, are you sure that's a good idea?”

         With an amused smile growing on his lips, Jale nodded. “Of course, it'll be fine, and good for him. Dehydration will always kill you before hunger.”

         “But what about the trolls?” Sah asked.

         “What about them? A troll would never endanger a beast as fine as a horse, especially not this close to town.” Jale patted the man on the shoulder before standing up from his seat. “Besides, Flinte could easily defend both of us.”

         The men sparked up a conversation about trolls and if they believed the commander as the tall man walked away. His clear blue eyes circled in their sockets, humans were all the same; dangerous creatures driven by power and greed, or worse—are aggressive needlessly. Their need to expand has pushed the trolls to the ends of the swamps, leaving little room for them to go. Trolls were generally peaceful Guiders, bringing lost souls home; or to their afterlife, but stealing their land hasn't made them very friendly. Most humans wouldn’t dare cross an angry troll, beings capable of tearing a weak human limb from limb, but, the military did. The King wanted the swamps to the humans, and if it meant war with the trolls, he wouldn’t care.

         Jale’s hands worked the rope holding the black horse free, then patted the beast on the shoulder to prompt the stallion to follow him. Flinte’s heavy body followed him along the small game path with sluggish, but sure steps. It wouldn't take them all that long to get to the water, it would just require a good bit of fighting the brush. Something neither the tall man nor the large horse were doing gracefully.

         “Flinte, what do you think about the drought?” When the stallion only flicked an ear, Jale spoke again. “We used to get rain often, nearly every other day it would seem. Now the land is dry, the water is scarce and it seems everything has gained a thirst for blood to make up for the lack of moisture. You weren't even alive when the water was here, you must think this land is naturally dry.”

         The commander spoke to the creature as if it was another person, it had always been easier to speak to animals to him. Sometimes he swore they could understand him. Laughing softly at the thought the horse cared, he pushed through a group of green bushes; the lush green leaves were closer to a teal color and the branches reached out with soft yellow wood. Proof water was nearby in this dry land.

         Flinte pulled his head away, attempting to pull the lead from the man's hands. With a hum, the tall man let go of the rope, aware the beast wanted a soothing drink. Sure enough, the black mass pushed past him and stepped into a shallow pool, lowering his large head to take in the warm liquid.

         “Drink as much as you need, we need your strength.”

         Jale decided to kneel next to the edge and scoop some of the spring water to his face to inspect it. It was clear and rather clean for the muddy floor it sat on. He let the liquid drain from his hands before cupping them to collect more, with his new makeshift cup, he brought the water to his lips and slid the refreshment down his throat.

         Satisfying his body in a way he couldn't even put words together to describe, it energized and woke him up even more than he thought possible. That and the liquid reminded him how thirsty he had been. Another few handfuls were delivered to his mouth, the taste crisp despite being warmed by the sun; rich and earthy.

         “Must be my mother's side that makes it so appealing...” he murmured out loud. The stallion lifted his head and nickered a deep bellow. His bright green eyes shone behind his black bangs, and the green stripes on his shoulders seemed to grow more vibrant.

         Jale chuckled as the horse seemingly responded to him. Holding a hand out for the rope, he clucked gently to encourage the stallion over. “Come on then, beauty, we should head out before we lose much more daylight.”

         Flinte brought his weight over, allowing the man to take the rope. Along with the stripes, the horse's hooves glistened with healthy statements. This brought a smile to his guide's face; it felt good knowing the creature felt better, even if he couldn't voice it. All animals are born with natural maegikal abilities, and thus have the energy displayed on their body to attract mates or warn predators. So the healthy shine was enough for Jale.

         I wonder if witches and warlocks have similar displays. All animals do, and so do the maekgik races. So, why wouldn't they? Perhaps one day I’ll get to ask someone. Or maybe one day before I die I could make my way to The Market, Rardor would know… His thoughts turned bittersweet at the thought of his old companion, called to another life away from Bogsgate, and Jale.

         The commander's thoughts would die down as he got closer to the camp. Chatter and laughter came from his men, relieving him with the knowledge their spirits were high.

         “Commander, we're ready to move. Is he good now?” James asked, breaking away from the conversation with the other two.

         Jale nodded. “Yes, he should be good for a few hours. We'll take a break at the river on the edge of the forest, if we can get a good pace we'll be there before noon.”

         The shorter man nodded and turned to relay the message while Jale brought the horse to the wagon. With some snaps of the gear and a snort from Flinte, he hooked the heavy wooden harness to the beast. Then connected the metal chains to the vehicle before giving him a comforting pat.

         “Carry us far.”

         The tall man took a moment to inspect the wheels, grey wooden rims fitted against silver metal rungs. They seemed to be in good shape despite the rough roads, which was relieving.

         “Alright, we move. Sah, James, you can start on the back, Derik needs a rest from last night.” His commands silenced the group with ease.

         With nods and verbal agreements, the three men moved around and gathered their canteens. Once in position, Jale urged the steed on and the cart rolled forward.

         Derik ran a hand through his brown hair and looked at the tall man next to him. “We're not lost again are we?”

         Jale glanced at his companion and then observed the path they traveled on. Hard, worn by horses and wagons, surrounded by dry bushes and trees, and wilted grass. “No. We marked the paths after last time, remember?”

         “We just passed the blue post, we're still on the right trail.” James piped up from the back.

         Sah scoffed softly. “You got lost going to Selude and I haven't heard this story?”

         Derik hummed and cracked a smile. “Well, it was when you were in Seldue, we had that mudling Maemo with us and we were bringing that one mage up to the king.”

         Relaxing on the bench, Jale chuckled. “Now now, Maemo has been on my branch longer than you. You're still my mudling.”

         His companion laughed before Sah pressed to continue the story.

         “I think it was the mage who got the elves before burning himself to death. Can't remember his name, crazy fellow, but he was really good at illusionary spells—have to give him that. Made the path look the same for days, thought we were still going the right way. Thank the Divines he reacted poorly to going hungry and lost the strength to play tricks on us.” Derik told the story without much glamor, but Sah appreciated the story anyway.

         “Damm, and let me guess, Jale was the most confident driver ever, believing he knew the way by heart?” the amused man in the back asked.

         James sucked his teeth and a playful smack could be heard. “Sah! Don't make fun of your commander! Do you want to be eaten by the horse?”

         Jale felt a soft tingle in the back of his head, but he shrugged it off as he laughed. “I've learned not to be so cocky, just because I know these roads well doesn't mean I know them when mages are manipulating them.”

         They were still relaxed and playful when the prisoner spoke up, not uncommon for someone facing his fate. Usually, they begged to be freed into the unforgiving lands or even to be killed before facing their torture. But this one was different, he didn't do any of that. He didn't beg.

         “James?” There was no answer, but the prisoner came to the edge of his cell. “I hope you survive this journey, you're funny, charming, and learned. If the commander died, you would be a very suitable replacement. Would certainly make that little girl of yours proud.”
Jale could feel the emotional shift from his men, and his brows furrowed. What is this man up to now?
Silence hung in the air, James showing restraint in not responding.

         Unphased, the ginger tried again. “What about you Sah? You could die, nobody depends on you. Oh, people would be sad of course, but… No dependents. Being a commander would do your father proud, but unlike him, you will never be respected enough.”

         Still, no one responded, but the words made the commander uneasy, his captive was trying a much darker approach to escape than simple brute strength. The sting of the air got worse as they traveled with the dark words, but not in a normal sense. Jale felt chills spreading over his body, and he reacted by glancing around, looking for a source of the cold. Not even the looming storm clouds offered wind, everything was still.

         “And the new guy… Derik. Your left tusk is smaller than the right, lost it in a fight probably. A headstrong man, who challenges your commander. But, you would die for him anyway. And you probably will. Only, only that would be heartbreaking, what would your brother do without his big brother to carry him around.”

         Jale snorted in anger. “Shut up.”

         “Make me.” The stinging venom in the two words shot back.

         Pulling the reins back to slow the horse, the commander didn't even wait for the wagon to stop, jumping down from the bench and walking around to the back. He was met with a soft smirk and blazing green eyes. The prisoner stood next to the door to the cell and had his fingers around the bars—and clearly liked the way Jale reacted.

         “I'll cut your tongue out,” Jale warned, his hand finding his sword's hilt.

         The pearl-skinned man leaned closer, so his head pressed against the bars. He studied the commander for a moment. “I don't need my tongue to communicate, Commander.”

         The tall man pulled his lips back to let out a hiss, only for the prisoner to speak faster.

         “Now I know you didn't lose your tusks in a fight. Why are yours so small?”

         Jale saw the purple ribbons swim in the green pools of the pearl-skinned man's eyes once again. Suddenly, he felt dread and backed up a step as he noticed the prisoner’s hands. That's impossible… The chains were elven warded…

         Chuckling a low laugh, the prisoner slunk back towards the bench in his cell. “I've told you before, Jale, you can't hold me.”



         Orange clouds lit up the sky as the sun set behind them, the billowing storm had fizzled out without dropping a single drop. The wagon had traveled along the road without incident for a few days, just needing more water breaks than planned for the big stallion. Setbacks or not, they had still been making great time and were hoping to find the forest Seldue claimed tomorrow. Stopping along a riverbed for the night brought much relief to the commander's sore bones.

         In the river, the water trail was only a stream in the center of the wide bed. No longer a surprise to the inhabitants of the dry swamp, they just set up a camp on the dirt bed and prepared for dinner. Sah had been purifying the water for drinking, while James and Derik started a fire and rolled out sleeping leathers.

         “Commander, where should we leave the horse? There's no vegetation close enough to keep an eye on him,” James, the blond man, said.

         Jale brought his gaze over the surroundings, spotting lots of rocks and cracked soil. But James was right, and the horse wouldn't be comfortable out on the bank. “Well, let's put him over here, I trust he can defend himself. That and—...”

         “Yeah yeah, trolls don't harm horses. You've said it enough times, sir.”

         Jale handed the man the long rope and gave him a single pat, or rather push, on the back. “Go tie him up.”

         With that taken care of, only one thing remained before they could rest—food. The tall man brought himself to the wagon, removing the meat from earlier, raw and wrapped. He knew it remained fresh in the heat, the wet leather protected it from the dry air and harsh sun.

         The commander unwrapped the sliced meat and skewered the chunks with sharp rods to let them cook. Once set, he grabbed a mug and filled it with the water, knowing the prisoner needed the water as much as his men. He doesn't deserve the release of death, The King will put him in his place. Maybe even help him…

         A clink sounded from the tap he gave the bars, alerting the prisoner to his offer.

         “I could refuse the water… Can't take me in if I'm dead.” The guy spoke much differently now than earlier. His tone was softer, regretful even.

         Emotionless, Jale still held the cup through the bars. “King would want you alive. You don't deserve the release of death.”

         His prisoner crossed his pale arms, green eyes narrowing. “You can't make me drink.”

         Jale stared into the other's eyes, a harsh glare that promised harm met him. “Actually I can, but considering the lack of rabbits we've seen, we may need the food for the horse.”

         “Would still be better than the elves, but I doubt even they could break me worse than I've done myself.” A single sigh of defeat fell from the caged male, and he took the drink.

         Jale took a step away, turning his head to add. “You'll be given food tonight again. Against our better judgment. Know this isn't a requirement, you can survive the trip to the King without food.”

         The commander found feeding the prisoners made them more tolerable during travel, especially the crazy ones. That and oftentimes they could spare a portion anyway, why waste the meat of an animal that needed to be taken to survive? No waste also led to better karma with the trolls.

         Sitting along the edge of the fire pit, the tall man rotated the food and let his body relax in his position, slouching his shoulders. A day spent on the wooden wagon hurt his back more than he'd care to admit.

         A figure sat next to him, Sah. “Don't worry, we'll make better time once we cross into the rainforest. The drought hasn't reached far into it, right?”

         Jale hummed thoughtfully and looked at his companion. “Each moon face it gets drier. Last time I went up there the leaves had lost a lot of their blue.”

         Bringing his gaze towards the wagon, Sah shook his head. “All this trouble because of one man.”

         The commander followed the other's gaze and watched the cell. “You know what the king will say. That we should've brought him sooner, then Levitt wouldn't have died.”

         “Sir, with respect, you shouldn't feed him. He'll survive the journey on just water.”

{{i}indent}You're definitely your father's son… Hopefully one day you'll learn, and hopefully before I retire. He stalled in his thoughts for a few seconds while a hand ran through his black hair. How could he explain his reasoning when this prisoner has threatened them already and has proven to be dangerous.

         “With any luck, it's improving his mood, lessening the chances he's trying anything to escape.”

         Sah hummed in disbelief. “I suppose that makes sense.”

         Jale took one of the rods, checking the food stabbed to the end. “Besides, food doesn't keep long in this heat, even with the wet leather.”

         His companion laughed while the tall man stood, shaking his head. “Then we'll hunt more, there's plenty of deer around.”

         Now towering over Sah, the commander scowled gently. “There is no reason to waste food. I don't want to waste meat from the troll's lands.”

         Sah understood that and finally dipped his head. “Of course, sir. I'll make sure the horse has feed and water.”

         Jale gave him a single nod and walked towards the wagon. He liked his men, and would gladly give his life for them, but sometimes their views got on his nerves. Even though he trained and picked the men to serve in his city, most of them still act like all the other soldiers.

         “I'll trade you.”

         His prisoner stood at the far end of the cell, the mug lay on the floor on its side. A good look at the male told him the pale man had been frightened of something. This led him to look behind him into the dark distant brush.

         “Food in your belly will help whatever you're seeing. I promise.”          

But the warlock didn't budge. “You didn’t see that?”

         Jale wouldn't give a second glance, he knew this man. A crazy warlock who was growing desperate to be freed, and the commander wouldn’t turn his back on him. “No. Eat.”

         Green eyes darted to the food being offered but fixated back on the spot of an unseen danger.

         The commander moved his long legs back, backing up from the cage. “Fine. I'll offer you some in the morning before we leave.”

         With that, he bit into the portion and returned to the fire. Savory meaty flavors filled his senses, all while the sweet sugar hints tickled the underside of his tongue. At least it wasn't as bland as boar or fish.

         The men had gathered to eat, but a subtle headcount showed they were a man short. Though anyone would shrug it off with a reasonable solution as to where the person was, he became unnerved.

         “Where's Sah?” he asked the guards.

         James had been the first to respond. “He met me at Flinte, he was feeding him. I assume he’s still over there.”

         Though most likely the case, Jale couldn't help but worry. “You didn’t stay with him?”

         “He’s just feeding a horse, how many men does that take?” Derik asked back.

         His blonde guard rubbed the back of his neck. “Flinte scares me, he nearly bit my finger off.”

         Jale hummed a soft chuckle, relieved a little. “The strong ones are always a little wild, James.”

         A rattle from the cell stole their attention. The warlock seemed distressed, and the commander shrugged it off until the guy cried out. “How can you not hear that! Look! Please just look, there's something out there!"

         The commander turned his frame towards the vegetation line, wondering now if it had been a trick or not. Even from a mad, or desperate, man, fear is a sign of danger.

         Unsheathing his sword, he waved a few of his men to follow. No harm in checking. They crept their way past the wagon, across the gravel ground with eyes watching for any sign of movement. Without the signs of wind, he doubted it would be trolls, but plenty of animals were beyond dangerous; boars could rip you apart with their tusks alone, and pumas are one of the worst things out here, invisible cats that have mastered stealth spells.

         The Quiet Wetlands had gotten its name for a reason, sound doesn't travel well through the marsh, and you would be a fool to underestimate it.
Derik stopped moving and checked upwards towards the treetops that overhang the bank, but he shrugged a light gesture to him upon spotting nothing.

         Jale held his long thin sword out and pushed a bush aside. Sitting behind the cover was a small brown reptile, a baby gator. Its front leg was twisted and bloody, and it stared up at the men with fearful eyes.

         “It’s just a baby gator,” Derik mused gently.

         Jale glared at the reptile with distrust, it was not just a baby gator. “No. It's dangerous.”

         “Commander?” Derik questioned as the tall man pushed back towards the camp.

         The commander felt relieved seeing Sah returning from the brush on the other end. “Where there’s a baby, there’s something to protect it. Use your head men, what would be around an injured baby gator?”

         James glanced around as they gathered in a small circle. “A mother for one, webbed-foxes or pumas for another.”

         “And trolls,” Jale said. “Keep your backs together, watch for movement…”

         As the men formed a tight ring, each one watched the still vegetation around the bank. Waiting for something to break through the brush, or call out a warning; is very unsettling in the darkening swamp.

         “Why would trolls be this close to our road?” Sah asked nervously.

         Derik rolled his large shoulders and gave a subtle huff. “Perhaps they’ve finally had enough of watching us parade around and want to snuff the military out bit by bit.”

         The commander looked around a bit carefully. Large trees with thick trunks and large exposed root legs; they were clearly not near the edge of the swamp. This brought him to a rather unpleasant realization that they were lost in the wetlands, maybe even closer to the trolls' last remaining lands than he thought.

         “It might not be trolls, it’s only a gator. A mother gator would just want us to back off if she sees us near her baby,” James thought out loud, glancing toward the commander.

         Faint clicking sounded from the brush, it sounded like bones grinding almost. Or, what the men knew it was, tusks being smacked together as a warning sound. A melodic voice spoke soothing and foreign, words in the distance as a small white shimmer floated through the air.

         Jale lowered his sword. “It is trolls, they’re here for the gator.”

         Derik grunted and lifted his broadsword higher. “Then they have no reason to mess with us.”

         “Derik, put your sword down, don’t give them a reason to attack us!” Sah hissed, putting his pair of swords back in their sheaths.

         With a soft nod, James put his sword down on the ground. “I agree, we’re just taking a prisoner to our king, they should have no reason to attack us.”

         The stout male growled gently and lowered his big blade, but didn’t put it away or on the ground. “But if they do attack us—...”

         “We wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. There’s four of us, who knows how many of them, even one would be a risk.” Jale interrupted, watching the vegetation as it quivered.

         When the men finally accepted they would be outmatched regardless of how they fought, they put their blades away and the tall commander walked forward. His hands were open-palmed and facing the brush, showing he had no weapon. He had to hope the trolls would understand their language as he explained they meant no harm.

         “We don’t bring any ill-will towards you, nor the baby gator. My men and I are just taking a criminal to our king.”

         After a few seconds of silence, a humanoid creature stepped out of the bushes; skin dark blue and matched the gravel clay river bed, with white eyes that studied Jale’s very soul. Atop its head grew amber hair, which stuck out all around its head and a bit around the neck. Notably, it had tusks on the bottom jaw, much like the humans—only its were much larger—and two smaller tusks poked out from the top as the creature opened its mouth. A male troll no doubt, the thick arms, and legs screamed strength—strength that could rip a human limb from limb if he wanted. He wore a silver scaly hide over his waist and a single band of yellow leather on his left wrist, however, the waist cover had a grey handled war ax strapped to it.

         “Commander mark, running boar carving. Commander Jale of Bogsgate you are.” Though the voice was deep, it came from strong pipes and rang out more like a serene instrument than words.

         Jale felt his heart sink, they knew who he was, what would they do to him or his men? “I am. I wish no harm for you… or my men. We just need to take that prisoner to our king for punishments.”

         The troll grunted something in a different language, before turning to rest his ghost gaze on the wagon. “Strong mage. A danger if a war breaks.”

         “He won’t fight for us. He would probably love to watch your warriors… disable our military.”

         A second troll appeared from the vegetation, a reddish one with leaner arms and legs. With its back slightly turned towards Jale, he could see two glimmering white lines on the nape of the neck, a very strong female. She stepped towards the wagon and seemed to be inspecting the man inside the cell.

         “Tunskin will see you,” the male troll demanded to Jale.