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The Hamlet

In the refurbished room, away from prying eyes, words were bartered and exchanged in an alien tongue that neither each side would understand from the other. Fortunate that with the efforts of their young translator, inexperienced and anxious combined, Grimwald was able to bridge the divide and spoke on their behalf.

The negotiation between humans and rabbits ended with a conclusion, but not what they had come to expect. Rabbit representatives from the House of Proudclaw desired the secret formula to gunpowder. A powdery substance of onyx hue with an explosive property. While the rabbits concocted a version of their own, it lacked the firepower to be used in combat.

Valice was briefed just before the start of the negotiation. Outright, she knew the risk to the deal. The supplies from House Proudclaw was enough to sustain the hamlet. Enough to survive against the harsh conditions of winter and even beyond. Yet all good things had a price to it and one she was too stubborn to surrender.

The formula was a closely guarded secret, preserved only to the Empire alone. Few were granted with such knowledge. Fewer remain to live with it. It was by her right that she should refuse the demand and proposed another, more suitable deal to their situation. Her father was honoured for this gift, and it was her job to make sure the formula would forever be a secret.

The talk lasted for hours as both sides used every skill and attempt to sway from the other. As it dragged on to the late of night, they found some sort of a middle ground. A chance to prove each other's worth.

Oraas Dem, the advisor to Lady Valice, proposed a visit to the rabbit estate to converse formally with the owner. A tour that would ensure the hamlet that House Proudclaw was one worthy of trust. Valice and the rabbit representative hesitated at first, uncertain to the extent with the lady siding to a disagreement. Eventually, however, both side gave in and concluded their talk.

With the representatives retired to their respective quarter, Valice and her advisor left the building, accompanied by the translator and her bodyguards. There was a tired look on the lady's face, mentally drained from the long conversation. Admittedly, she thought the rabbits to be quite as stubborn as she was and ever resilient to get what they wanted, but in her time of politics and talks and arguments in the past, she prevailed to tie with them as a result. While she was ready to head into bed, Oraas, on the other hand, remained energetic, alive and showed little signs of exhaustion.

“A most interesting of affairs, wouldn't you agree?" the advisor stated to her, smiling a tiny grin. He was rather quite calm about it since he personally volunteered to journey towards an unknown bastion, ladened with rabbits and other beasts alike. "Wonder what sort of customs do these rabbits have and what do they eat? Carrots only? Hmm, no, I do not think that is simple."

Valice was despondent at his reaction. She didn't suspect the old man to be interested over a bunch of flat-footed rabbits. It made her slightly worried.

“I do not think this is a joking matter," she responded in a low tone, squeezing both of her hands tight on her gloves. She should be furious, aggravated to the point that the advisor decided right there and then to volunteer for the task and without her consent. As much as she wanted to scold the man, her concern weighed heavily than personal pride. "Sending you to a place that we do not know puts you in jeopardy. Who knows what these rabbits would do once you get there? They may torture you for information or worse."

Oraas was flattered, slightly gracious that the lady was concerned for his well being and health. “You should place more faith in your subjects, milady," he calmly replied. “I am not as fragile as you might think. Be sure to understand that I am ready. I promise," he took a moment of pause and chuckled. “Besides, I've been at your father's side for many years. If I can manage this far with his temper, I can manage this one."

As always, Oraas would find the chance to make the lady smile or laugh just to divert the subject. However, she wasn't in the mood to indulge in humour. Not this time.

While it was true that the advisor had served the family loyally throughout the years, there was much room for Valice to be concerned about. For one, she knew the old man was in poor health and noticed once or twice of his peculiar accidents. The usual excuse that he shrugged off. Although he wouldn't admit to his weakness, she remained powerless to stop him.

No amount of reason or force could surrender a staunch fellow like Oraas, and Valice could do nothing more than to watch her mentor moved onward with little years he had left.

As they reached to the longhouse, Oraas bid the lady goodnight. Unable to sleep for a reason alone, the old advisor resumed his nightly stroll with the translator at his side.

“Are you sure you don't want the bodyguards?" Grimwald asked. “I'm not at all best when it comes to guarding stuff."

“You'll do fine," Oraas responded to him dismissively. “I do not want to bother them from their duty. Lady Valice is above a priority."

The stroll was a silent trip around the hamlet and neither the two spoke out to one another. After ten minutes of peaceful absence, they reached at last to the advisor's household.

It was a simple design with walls made out of cheap wood, one small window and black tiles for a roof. While the lady suggested for a more respectable house worthy of merit, Oraas insisted on his choice and remained adamant to live in it. To him, he preferred the small things in life.

“Grimwald Gore," The advisor spoke in absolute authority and gave the translator a stern and severe look. When Grimwald heard his name, he stood up straight for attention. His shoulders stiff like stone and sweat beading down from his eyebrow. He was nervous at every sense of the word.

“I trust that you are ready to do what must be done?" The advisor asked with assurance. “The importance of this visit would ensure our confirmation that these... people," he referred to the rabbits. “may benefit us in the long term. Do I have your word as a soldier that you would remain true to your cause?"

Grimwald gulped. If there were one person that he feared the most than the Partishan and the lady, it would be the advisor, Oraas Dem.

“Of course, sir." He answered slowly, unable to meet the man's gaze. It was all that he could say at the moment. Oraas eyed at the frightened, young man before he grinned slightly.

“I will see you tomorrow." The advisor said. As he was about to close the door, he made one final word to the frightened soldier. “Pray you don't disappoint us."

As the door creaked ever so slowly to a close, a sigh of relief escaped from Grimwald. “Damn bastard." He cursed silently under his breath. He left the advisor alone to his affair and retraced his steps back to the rabbit representatives. To him, he knew it was another hectic tomorrow.

====----====

The Longhouse

With her bodyguards left outside to patrol, Valice was left alone to her quarters, delved deep in thought to the future ahead. The likelihood cooperation with the rabbits made her question about many things. Things like the lives of her men and the possible chance to return to their world.

There was without question that the rabbits would prove useful to the hamlet. Valice was sure of it. Yet as much it brought some form of relief, she was bothered by another situation. Her decision to negotiate with the beastfolk had created complications with the Partishans. Including one unlikeable individual that remained temporarily in charge of the group.

Like an open page from a book, Valice saw the usual signs of Partishan Lars' deep hatred towards rabbits, towards anyone that wasn't human. She shouldn't be surprised. Partishans always suspected every one of treachery.

As the lady was about to retire for the night, all of a sudden and without warning, she heard a noise, a sound, of doors being slammed open and heavy footsteps that entered the building. She gives a good guess to be her bodyguards in which the lady groaned out loud in annoyance.

Unable to ignore from the chaos that was outside from her room, Valice quickly placed her outer garment around her nightdress and left the room to meet the disturbance. She strides towards the narrow hallway all the way up to the center where her brown eyes caught a glance of her bodyguards just waiting at the front.

The longhouse that used to hold feast and banquets was transformed into another purpose. No longer housed of random crowds of partygoers but instead replaced with officers, veterans and even Partishans alike. It was a place of operation, a war room to discuss privately from either trivial to important matters and the future of the hamlet. Mostly all talk and little action routine.

“Guardsman," Valice said in a neutral tone, staring on him with an accusing gaze. “You better have a good explanation to barge in and interrupt my slumber."

The guardsman, her bodyguard, stood straight and bowed ever so lightly. “Forgive to intrude on your moment of respite, milady," he answered apologetically, raising his head. “But we have caught someone from one of our patrols."

“And what pray to tell that you guys have caught?"

“We have caught ourselves a weasel."

Valice raised her eyebrow in silent, bemused by what the guardsman had meant. It didn't take long before she turned to the second guardsman that she noticed that he wasn't joking at the slightest.

Behind the guardsman's back was a humanoid weasel, bruised and bloodied with wounds that seemed reasonably recent. Bloodstains had caught on its onyx fur and the protective tunic that strapped around its chest as well as the guardsman who carried it. The creature was unconscious, eyes shut tight, barely breathing and close at the brink of death.

Valice was mortified at the state of the weasel's condition and as she was about to ask, the guardsman voiced in.

“It was like that when we found the little guy," he answered to her approachable question. His voice betrayed with a slight hint of sympathy. “Appeared waltzing towards to us. Naught a care in the world."

Valice closed in on the weasel as she extends her hand to rub its fuzzy face, its fur was soft like feathers. “And where did you exactly found this creature, guardsman?"

“From the east gate, milady. Damnable watchmen supposed to prevent this from happening. It must have sneak through under their watch."

The second guardsman reaffirmed his holding on the weasel. “What do you want me to do with this thing?" He asked and showed not one ounce of sympathy.

Valice stared at the weasel and thought on what to do. She could order the guardsmen to toss it back to the wilderness and let fate decide the outcome. On the other hand, she could allow it to remain at the hamlet, treat its wounds and interrogate it for further questioning, but doing so would further aggravate the Partishans. Fortunately for her, she wasn't cruel enough to ignore the cries for help.

“Bring the weasel to the medic," she gestured her hand to the guards, telling them to leave. “Send someone to keep on eye on it until the time being."

The guardsmen made a firm salute and left to do just that. As the door came to a close, Valice returned to her room to enjoy a moment of peace.

====----====

Accornhall

The east corridor fared worse than the front of the castle as vegetation had seized much of the halls, creeping inward through the cracks and crevices of the stone, turning into a playground of perilous danger. The rooms, each held their little secrets were cut off from entry, forever lost under a ton of buried rubble. Unlike other parts of the castle, the east side had a decent number of wildflowers that had a sweet and robust kind of aroma that was noxious to almost anyone.

Unaware that their leader had already gone upstairs to the second floor, the two that went along, Yara and Tristram, were in progress to search for the missing group that Mercurio had sent last week. So far, their result was mediocre at best. As they struggled through the vines and scented fumes, Tristram coughed terribly, covering his mouth with the rags that he received from Amion.

“Damnable nuisance," The weasel uttered out, slowly starting to lose his patience. “Out of all the places, Yara, you decided to pick this spot. Who in the right mind would head in this direction? I wouldn't be stupid enough to go here even if my life was at risk!"

Yara groaned in silent, trying to ignore the constant, petty antics that was Tristram. The bear had every right and reason to explore the east side of the castle as it was the last place they hadn't look. None of the areas had the survivors, and most were blocked by either vines or rubble. If there was a chance that they somehow managed to get through to infested wildflowers, then that was what Yara should do.

After hours of passing through peril, the mercenaries had finally reached at the end of the trail. They stopped to meet at an oaken door, carved with an artistic flair of design with a red rose symbol. Yara tried to turn the doorknob, but couldn't budge the door to open. The door was sealed shut tight.

“Guess it's my turn," Tristram said, right on cue as he rummaged through his pocket. In his hand, the weasel pulled out his trustee lockpick and begin his work on the lock. After several minutes, he heard a quiet click and pushed the door inward, revealing a pitch black room, devoid of any light.

“Lady's first," the weasel added, bowing his head, gesturing his arms towards the dark abyss.

“You're all heart, Tristram," the bear replied sardonically. Power flowed at the left of her fingertips as she entered the room. Her hand released a small ball of light, brightening the room for several minutes, enough for Tristram to spot the torch holders nearby.

As the weasel lighten the torches, the room revealed itself to be nothing out of the ordinary. The room had a couple of furniture, covered in sheets and empty bookshelves filled with dust and cobwebs. No any signs of survivors. No treasure to loot. Nothing.

Tristram felt rather disappointed. “Well this could have been better," he said, sighing. “Yet another waste of our time. Should have sided with Amion when I had the chance."

They thoroughly searched the room, hoping to find something worthy for their trouble. While Yara checked on the bookshelves, the weasel had the time to look at the covered furniture. As he pulled down one of the sheets, he was impressed by how it was perfectly preserved and that he could sell it to the right market. However, he wasn't looking for furniture.

Tristram was more disappointed than he should be and wondered if Mercurio's men were even here in the first place. Was the trip an entire waste of time? If that were the case, he was more than delighted to return to Blueberry town and ask Mercurio in person. He wanted to get close so he could place a knife up to the rat's neck.

After several tugs, the weasel discovered more furniture, each of them well-crafted than the next. The carved markings on the wood were elegant, perfect in every way that was pleasing to the eye. Then something caught his attention from the corner of the room. A smile began to creep upon his face. He knew exactly what it was.

The weasel approached it and unfold the sheets to reveal his hunch was correct. It was a chest.

“Well, alright, that's more like it," Tristram said, pleased, feeling bright all of a sudden. With his trustee lockpick, he made short work on the chest and lifting the seal open.

Within the contents of the chest were nothing as remarkable to what the weasel come to suspect. Some bit of clothes and toys and other miscellaneous stuff that bore no value. Yet, the weasel was still smiling and spotted something shiny further deep inward.

The weasel didn't care for cleanliness as he tossed the useless junks in the air. He reached down to pull something out of the chest. In his hand was a long dagger, ornate, sheath made out of metal of black and gold. Unsheathed from the scabbard, the blade itself was of a perfectly fine craft with a needle pointed tip. Its smooth surface had a strange black colour.

“Well, aren't you a beauty," he said, happily placing the dagger on the belt. As he continued to rummage the inside of the chest, he quickly noticed something and froze.

Inside from the chest was a ring, far more beautiful than the dagger itself. It had an earthlike appearance, melded in black and orange hue. When he held it at the palm of his hand, he felt the warmness of the ring as if it was recently forged in the fires of a furnace. In his years as a mercenary, he had never seen quite anything like it.

Just on cue, Yara returned from her search. “Found anything?" She asked.

Tristram snapped from his trance and turned to meet the bear, concealing the ring. “None…nothing worth valuable."

Yara paused in silent and eyed on something. “You're lying."

“Wha-what do you mean?"

The bear pointed at the weasel's belt. “Nice dagger you got."

Tristram had utterly forgotten about the dagger and laughed weakly. “Geez, you caught me on that one. But yeah, alright, there had been some kind of find. No sign of Mercurio's group, however."

“I feared as much," Yara sighed in disappointment, her direction turned towards to the exit. “Come on, let's head back. Amion would suspect a report from us."

“I'll be right with you in a second. Need to make sure I got everything I need." Tristram explained and continued to watch Yara leaving the room. As she was further away into the distant, the weasel opened his hand to gaze at the ring one more time, hypnotized by the sheer beauty of it.

There was a low laugh coming from the weasel. The low triumphant laughter, one found a treasure worth all of the treasures. “You're too good to pass up." He placed the ring firmly in his pocket and quickly left the room.