Into Darkness (Juumbled&Vekraihr)

[Vekraihr]

The soft clopping of hooves broke the silence of the darkened and early midday as a black and white rouncey made its way through the overgrown roadways. Wisps of fog were visible from both the horse and rider as the cool air of autumn continued to pervade deeper into the afternoon, signalling the approach of winter. It was difficult to tell what time of year it was here as most of the vegetation was dead or dying and seemed to have been that way for quite some time. Where once vibrant colors provided a breathtaking view, the dark light that filtered through the clouds showed only dulled hues of browns, yellows, some red, and little green. The cloaked figure upon the horse was a large man, standing approximately 6’2” and having a broad shouldered physique with arms as thick as the branches of a mighty oak.

Erasmus Concord of Eod was on his way back to the town of Caradoc after being gone for some 10 years. He didn’t know quite how long it had been as, on his way home from war, his ship was beset by a powerful storm which blew them off-course, ultimately shattering the boat along the rocky shores of Aesadius. He was the only survivor as far as he knew and he owed his current livelihood to the witches of the Brindleback Spines, a region in the mountain range to the north of his homeland of Mercia. They tended to him as he lay comatose for almost two years and helped him regain enough of his strength to make the journey home. They cautioned him of the darkened lands to the south but he didn’t pay much heed to their warnings.

As evening approached and the sun settled lower and lower into the sky, the clouds which seemed to perpetually blanket the skies briefly gave way. It was just long enough for Erasmus to get his first glimpse at the Sun since his arrival to Mercia and what he saw nearly robbed him of all the color he had left. A darkened spot sat directly over the disk of the Sun, nearly choking all the light it had to offer from reaching him. Around the darkness, the corona of the sun danced outwards and mingled with the twilight-colored heavens. “I’d heard rumors...But I didn’t think it to be true,” he said to himself with disbelief before urging his horse to quicken its pace.

After a few more hours of travel and with the sun almost gone, a village began to rise up on the horizon and Erasmus knew at once that he was nearing his destination. Hope began to fill the man as determination drove him ever onward. However, as the last light of day slipped at last beyond his view, he felt an extreme pain begin to overtake him. His blood felt like it was boiling as thousands of tiny daggers stabbed at him from all sides. Erasmus almost lost grip on his reins as his vision began to blur and the strange familiarity of unconsciousness tugged at his mind. “No...No, I can’t stop when I’m so close!” he spoke with a pained growl as his hands tightened slowly. As the village came closer and night time began in earnest, the rider lost consciousness and slumped against his horse, which continued to ride towards the only civilization it could see as small lights began to flare up within the village.

“I’ll return for you, my beautiful bride.”​

These words echoed inside of Erasmus’ head, a mantra which he’d used to overcome his adversaries, his pain, and himself. During his 7 years of service, he sacrificed blood, sweat, and sleep to be rewarded with scars, a toughened physicality, and the rank of Captain. His one good eye narrowed to focus upon the piece of parchment which lay unfurled upon a shoddy wooden desk, lit by dim candlelight which danced warmly upon the surfaces within his tent. The letter contained orders to return to port, as the war had concluded and Mercia reached an agreement with the land of Islon. While the particulars weren’t laid out, Erasmus knew the deal would heavily favor his homeland and its greedy autarchy. Relieved by this sudden news, the Captain stood from his desk and walked out of the opening flap of his tent, half-plate armor clanging noisily with each step. The evening sun was drawing below the horizon, back lighting the mountain range to the southwest. Painted was the sky with a palette of oranges, reds and pinks closer to the horizon and deep blues and lavenders overhead.

His company, the 12th Heavy Armor Battalion (which was often referred to as The Furious Daemons), was stationed outside of a town which had been successfully seized and occupied by the kingdom of Mercia. Tents of deep crimson, gold and black hues dappled the emerald fields, nestled against the shore of a stream which provided his men and horses with an ample supply of clean water. Seeing his superior shuffle out of the tent, a lieutenant of almost a head’s height less and not quite as much muscle rushed over towards him and snapped a hasty but practiced salute. “Sir!” the man shouted, Erasmus snapping a sharper salute in return. “At ease, Lieutenant Draken. I need all the men to gather, immediately. I have important news to discuss,” Erasmus spoke, his voice deep and powerful, with a bit of a raspy quality from a particularly bad respiratory infection he’d suffered as a child. “Of course, sir! I will gather the men at the rally point!” Draken responded before rushing off as quickly as he’d approached in the first place. Captain Concord nodded and placed his arms behind his back and under his black cloak, walking slowly towards the rallying grounds with his gauntleted fingers locked together.

Coming to a stop at the far end of the field, Erasmus looked towards the mountains and let himself get lost for a short while thinking of the journey back home. As members of his battalion gathered, his ears picked up the commotion of a group of men who were equally eager and dreading whatever words he had to speak. Turning to face them, Erasmus held up one hand in a fist and called out at the top of his lungs, “ATTENTION!” Swiftly coming to a hushed quiet, all eyes trained upon the Captain and there was a unified stomp as the entire group snapped to attention. “At ease, men. I wanted to first congratulate you all for surviving this long. The Furious Daemons are spoken of with awe and fear upon the lips of friends and foe alike. You have all earned your place in my regiment,” he spoke loudly and authoritatively as he scanned across the faces he’d come to know over the years. “Now, I have gathered because I’ve just received word from General Arktrad. Our enemy has surrendered the fight and has reached an agreement with the crown. Tomorrow, we march double time back to port and will be returning home within the month!” His announcement was met with unbridled cheers of joy and pride, the men clamoring, shaking hands and some even hugging in celebration.

Erasmus couldn’t help but break a small smile before holding his hand up once again. A less subdued quiet fell over them once again as he spoke once more. “We shall leave at first light. We awake before dawn to dismantle camp and prepare our wagons and horses. Thank you all, and revel like the Daemons we are! DISMISSED!” his last words were shouted, met once again with jubilation. Soon, the minstrels which accompanied the troupe for morale were playing upbeat tunes while fine foods were prepared and casks were tapped for the wine within. Erasmus took his meal to his tent, along with a goblet of wine and began to write a letter home, informing his wife that he was to return within two months and that he was eager to return and begin their lives together. After sending the letter with a messenger bird, Erasmus found himself to a troubled but restful sleep.

Startling awake from his dream, Erasmus’ vision came to clarity inside of a room which he was unfamiliar with and a firm but yielding bed. His body was wracked with pain which made even breathing a laborious endeavor. Blinking to focus his sight, he slowly pushed himself up from the bed to look around the room. A small, wrought-iron wood stove sat near the wall furthest from the bed with a flue that rose up and into the wall behind it and glass windows in front which allowed the warm light of the fire inside to light the otherwise darkened chambers. Looking upon himself, he saw he was no longer in the outer layers of his clothing and was instead dressed in a black, long-sleeved shirt and dark brown pants which were cinched around his waist by a black belt with a silver buckle. Dust still lingered against the dark wood of the furniture in the room, though a hasty cleaning had appeared to have taken place.

As the obliviousness of sleep left him, voices conversing in loud but muted tones carried through his door to his curious ears. Walking towards the door, he began to make out pieces of the conversation and discerned between a male and female participants. Opening the door with a slow creak, the conversation grew louder from down the hallway. “By all that is good in this world, I will see my daughter wed! I will not see my only daughter wallow in grief as a widow any longer! A woman, no matter her station, cannot own property and I refuse to let it out of the purview of my bloodline! Lord Connor is a fine lad and would make a proper husband, I’m sure.”

As the argument continued, Erasmus stopped in the hallway briefly as he spotted a mirror in another side room with its door opened. Torchlight filtered into the room and the tall man stood in the doorway, looking at the reflection staring back at him as he walked toward it. His once groomed chestnut brown hair was now shaggy and a bit matted from disregard, with sparse gray where his sideburns and hair met. His once clean-shaven face now sported a long, thick brown beard with a single gray streak beneath his lower lip. His face was disfigured by a long scar which started at his forehead, bisecting a cloudy blue eye, and continued to his lower cheek. The damage the wound caused contorted his lips into a half-grinning grimace. His other eye was a deep, azure blue set against the slightly bloodshot whites. The sockets of his eyes were a bit deeper set and darkened a bit from a lengthy weariness he’d suffered.

Stepping out of the room, Erasmus almost bumped into a shorter, older looking woman who gasped at his sudden presence and nearly screamed before biting down on her own lip. “Terribly sorry, sir...We didn’t expect you to be awake,” she began while wringing her hands a bit with anxiety. “Let me take you to his lordship,” she offered while turning around and began to briskly walk down the hall before turning to the left into a set of large double doors. Stepping inside, Erasmus heard more clearly the voices of the contentious individuals before they both suddenly stopped as the elderly man held a finger towards the woman to his right. “Not now, it seems our guest has finally awoken,” the patronly voice rang through the hall as the two sat at a long table, he at the head and the younger woman immediately to his right side. Erasmus knew this voice and face, though both had aged considerably since he last saw him. Lord Ham of Caradoc, as he lived and breathed, seemed just as obstinate in his twilight years as he’d ever been. The female seemed familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her.

“Thank you, Lenore. Please fetch our guest some food and water, I’m certain he needs both since he’s been asleep since he arrived yesterday eve,” Lord Ham commanded to which the older woman bowed her head. “At once, your Lordship,” she said and was quickly off towards the doors to the rear of the room. Alongside the longer edge of the table, a larger fireplace roared with flames that crackled and popped, filling the room with warmth and the comforting scent of a proper fire. Erasmus knew not what to say in this moment and merely took a seat across from the woman, bowing his head. “I thank you for taking me into your manor, your Lordship,” Erasmus spoke, his voice hoarse from the lack of liquid and he could feel the burning thirst more now than he ever could.

“Don’t mention it, lad. Villagers said you were nearly off your horse when it dragged you into town. Brought you and it here. Stabled ‘im with the others, don’t you worry,” he said with a smile, his years counted among the folds and wrinkles which creased further with his grin. Erasmus gave a grateful bow of his head, but didn’t speak for the worsening pain in his throat. It wasn’t long before Lenore had brought out a bowl of steaming stew, a bit of dry bread and a mug of heated water. At the smell of the stew, Erasmus would have drooled had he enough moisture in his body to be capable of it and, forgoing any and all manners, began to hungrily ladle spoonfuls of the hot soup down his needy gullet. Anyone looking upon him would never suspect him to be a lord, especially in his unkempt and quiet state.

 

[Jumbled]

It was mere hours before the townsfolk would arrive to the Caradoc Manor for supper. For years now, it was customary for Lord Ham of Caradoc to host the surrounding village every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (though it was truly his daughter that arranged the entire ordeal). Three days didn’t seem like a lot in the span of a week, but for their small staffed manor, it was really all they could manage with the overall shortage of food and favorable weather. The villagers were only ever grateful under the circumstances.

Lenore, a round faced, short statured woman, was one of the manor’s oldest servants. She could recall Lord Ham as a child, though she was just as much a babe as he was at the time. She grew up on the property with both of her parents that lived on the estate serving the Caradoc family. She served Ham’s father, watched as Ham went off on a religious pilgrimage (which she’d often say she thought was more of a “rebellious” pilgrimage), met Ham’s wildling of a woman he brought back with him and called wife. Lenore served as a midwife to Astrid, helping to bring Ham’s daughter Astra into the world and also became the rock which held the family together during Astrid’s passing.

Lenore was only a little younger than Lord Ham, though her health was certainly better than his. She blamed it on his intake of smoke and drink, though her warnings always fell upon deaf ears. Ham wasn’t one to quit his lifelong habits, though she guessed the drinking was just his way of coping. Lord Ham’s health had been wavering for several years now and on the colder mornings he often didn’t leave his bed. Lenore tended to him most days while she urged Astra to go out and tend to the gardens in the way she knew the girl would, though that was a hushed affair.

Lenore was no dummy. She knew the girl’s mother had been a wildling witch and had walked in on her magical lessons with afternoon tea many times before Astrid died. Astrid only ever smiled and thanked Lenore, never hissing or shooing the woman away. It made the servant uncomfortable in the beginning, though she grew used to Astrid and her ways with time. More than anything else, that woman was a healer. Astrid was open with her trade, often taking in locals to ease their aches and pains. She would even make home visits before she was inevitably hanged for witchcraft when Astra was around nine years of age. Lenore always did her best to shield Astra from public eye when it came to rumors.

Lenore, as protective as she was, made Astra put her mother’s things away and attend church under the public eye regularly. She knew, however, that the child stayed up at night by candlelight studying Astrid’s grimoires. So long as the child understood why her mother was killed, Lenore let the girl study as she pleased. It was a blessed thing she did, as it turned out. Not only was Astra able to feed the locals and her family, but she constantly tended to the aches and pains of both Lenore and Ham’s old, tired bones.

The climate had changed drastically somewhere around the middle of the war. Astra, now 26, suspected foul play of a dark and mysterious, magical nature. The changes were not instant, but instead, a slow drain on the surrounding lands of the Mercia Kingdom. Rumors insisted that the castle itself remained untouched by such a curse, and as time crept forward, more unsettling news came from random travelers before they simply stopped coming. The journey to Caradoc was no longer an easy one. Sickly bramble vines with thorns as large as a pike’s blade covered most of the land, draining it of life, while a thick miasma filled the air as the sun left the sky, capable of knocking a soldier onto the ground with a single breath. It wasn’t much better when the sun was out, either. The sky was forever stuck in an eclipse that blocked the natural light, leaving colors muted and the air with a bitter cold chill.

Astra leaned against a window, staring out into the back yard of their once lovely estate. Her arms rested along the sill, covered in both fresh cuts and old scars where she had fought against the bramble vines that encroached their lands every nightfall. The vines, as it turned out, were especially attracted to magic. Astra, being a witch by both blood and practice, fought the cursed creepers every morning by hand and blade. Using magic to dispose of them would never work since the plants would absorb whatever they could. Astra didn’t even dare use magic to heal the cuts caused by the plants, she’d only made that mistake once.

A shaking hand clutched her shoulder and Astra turned to meet her father’s gaze. In his age, his height was nearly equal to her own now, though he used to be such a towering man. His spine was weak and he stood with a sloping hunch as he moved. “Hello, father.” she greeted the man and she took his hand and began to escort him to his favorite chair by the fireplace. “You’re up and about earlier than expected. Are you feeling better today?”

Ham walked with Astra without much response. He preferred to ignore his health unless he was lecturing her about how he’d die soon. The talk always surfaced after these village dinner nights. Lord Connor had been asking her father for her hand for some time now, though the title Lord was a little misgiving, she thought. His lands were so overrun by vines and barren, according to village gossip, that he’d moved into their small village with a distant relative of his. She suspected he was after their manor more than her hand, but it was difficult to know. Astra supposed it was also possible he wanted her late husband’s lands, but she couldn’t say what they looked like. Their arranged marriage was nothing more than a ceremony interrupted by a call to war when she was 16. She had never seen her husband’s home because he’d left her with her father until his return, which never happened.

Astra shifted the dead wood in the fireplace, trying to bring her father a bit more warmth before offering him his stein filled with warm cider and a little hint of her healing touch. “Here, drink up. Guests will arrive soon and I need to check in with Lenore and Helda about supper.” Ham waved his daughter off as he drank from his cup, still ever the master of the domain.

Helda, Lenore’s daughter, was older than Astra by ten years, and although Lenore was ever present in Astra’s life, Helda certainly didn’t see Astra as a sister. Regardless of that, Helda respected Astra for all that she did. “Greetings, my lady. Soup is nearly ready.” she told her. Helda took on most of the kitchen duties. Their typical dinner was always a soup. That was the only meal that could really be stretched out to feed everyone. “Thank you, Helda,” she started as she felt the scrutinizing gaze of the kitchen-hand as she examined Astra. “Yes, yes, I’ll go change. Stop looking at me like that. No sense in wearing dresses in the garden.” she huffed as she turned on her heel. “Be sure to tell Lenore that father is in his chair.”

Torch light danced along the walls of Astra’s room. The shutters of the window were open, as she often found them, and several crows had perched along the top framing of her bed posts. After closing up her window, she glanced up at the birds, counting three. “You’re in for the night, then. Don’t make a racket during supper. Father hates the noise.” The crows tilted their heads as if they were listening to what she said with consideration.

The woman’s attention turned to the full length mirror that stood in the corner of the stone walls. She was looking a little ragged, perhaps Helga’s gaze wasn’t without reason. She wore her father’s old trousers and tunic that bore tears and holes from both age and the thorny vines. Her hair was a knotted, matted mess of auburn in need of a good washing and brushing. Even the stableman, Brinley, would have trouble getting through the thick mane of hair on her head. Astra rubbed her face with her hand, exhausted and overwhelmed by her appearance. She’d need to wash up well before the dinner.

Afternoon arrived and several wagons, carried by horses, entered the estate, met by Brinley as he tended to the animals. The villagers gathered much as they always did, mingling in the main hall which smelled of soup, fire and her father’s special blend of pipe weed. The room itself had the thinnest layer of dust along the top of the walls, to be certain. There just wasn’t enough help to keep up with the whole house, though Lenore did try. Between Ham’s health, meal prepping, and survival in general, she could only do so much. It was also evident that she could only reach so high from her stature. Lord Connor, a wiry man with oily black hair and dark eyes, shifted uneasily around the room, searching for Astra, though she hadn’t made an appearance yet. Her presence was increasingly scarce each gathering.

As they all seated for their meal, early so that they could all travel back safely to avoid the night’s toxic air, Astra arrived with Helda and Lenore with bowls of soup for everyone. She could feel Connor’s eyes glued to her every movement, taking in her slender form in her nicest dress, the one with slightly puffed shoulders and tight, long sleeves that hid the injuries from the vines. The dress, once vibrant blue, was duller now, though it still shimmered with the hints of gold accents along the hems and belted waistline. Her hair, now tame, was pinned up in braids, with random tendrils missed here and there along her neckline. For a moment, her golden-honey gaze met his dark one before shifting to the woman beside him. Astra didn’t like Connor. There was something off about him. Though, she supposed it was possible she liked no man in general, preferring to play the role of the widower as long as she could. That didn’t dissuade him from attempting to charm her and her father every visit. It was nearly as painful as breathing in the miasma, she thought. Astra was quick to excuse herself so that she might bring Brinley some food at the stables where she would hide until the others gathered to leave. She stood off to the side as Brinley got everyone settled, Lord Connor riding his own personal horse as he spotted Astra out the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but Brinley quickly reminded him that night was approaching.

The villagers left and Astra thoughtfully looked at Brinley before going inside. “Thank you, I’ll see you soon.” she told him. He would work a while longer before coming inside. It took a great deal of effort to fortify the stables in a way that the miasma wouldn’t seep into the stalls. But, as he pushed through his chores, he stopped at the sound of horses approaching the stables. Brinley walked outside with a cloth placed over his mouth, finding Lord Connor looking much the same with a cloth tied around his face. He’d found a traveler near the town and brought him to the manor, knowing they had some form of infirmary, though he wasn’t so sure on the details.

Connor used the nightfall as an opportunity to stay the night at the manor to conduct more private chats with Lord Ham. The two were up for what seemed like hours and Astra couldn’t be less pleased. Lenore was ever watchful of the man, ensuring he stayed out of the room the stranger was placed in whie Astra tended to him. It was certain he’d taken in too much of the air’s poison. Luckily for his horse, it took longer to affect the animals. Brinley reported that the mare would be fine by the next day, hopefully.

On the small stove in the room, Astra brewed a drink made from blessed water and various plants crushed in her mortar, ingredients she’d stocked away and stored in glass bottles from before the lands lost their luster. Some supplies were far older and found tucked away with her mother’s belongings in the old study.

Astra cradled the stranger’s head in her arms, helping him to drink the elixir down, though he was still unconscious. She would repeat the process several more times throughout the night before his lungs would begin to recover.

The next day broke and Astra urged Lenore to make Connor leave so she could attend to the gardens and vines without an audience. Connor wasn’t keen on going, and although he did protest, Lenore was firm with him. Ham was sleeping in his room downstairs, a newer development since the stairs were too much for him now, and any more commotion would aggravate him. “We will be seeing you Mond’ee, Lord Connor, but Lord Ham needs proper rest, now. Get on with ya’.” she insisted. Helda eyed Lord Connor as he left, folding her arms across her chest as she tsked aloud. “She ought’ just marry that man. He’s fine enough on the eyes and there ain’t much more to choose from.” Lenore waved a hand at her daughter dismissively. “He’ll ruin that girl and, in turn, the lives of everyone ‘round when he realizes where the food comes from. You’d be best to remember we’re all dependent on Lady Astra’s kindness. Now come, let’s get to work.”

The next night came and Astra remained in her working clothes, tattered and manly as they were. She’d taken time to care for the stranger throughout her day’s work, but left him to Helda’s care while she ate with her father. They were soon in their normal discussions of Lord Ham being old and dying soon, only amplified by Connor’s stay. Astra huffed and gritted her teeth.

“Father. I’m in mourning. My husband left me for war on our wedding day, swearing to return! I was promised to him for so long, my heart’s pain simply hasn’t recovered from his absence.”

“It’s been 10 years, dear girl.”

“Yes, ten years of pain and sorrow from such a loss, father!” she insisted. Astra liked her life the way it was, for the most part. At least, considering the outside circumstances, she was better off alone in her father’s home. It was harder and harder to sound convincing about missing a husband she barely knew and her father wasn’t an idiot.

“By all that is good in this world, I will see my daughter wed! I will not see my only daughter wallow in grief as a widow any longer! A woman, no matter her station, cannot own property and I refuse to let it out of the purview of my bloodline! Lord Connor is a fine lad and would make a proper husband, I’m sure.”

Astra’s lip curled in a disgusted frown. “Father, that man is appalling. He’s old. His interest in me is disingenuous.” Astra protested. She went on for a while, whining about the greasy lordship. Lord Ham was doing that thing he did when he stopped listening; his eyes rolled back before shutting and he smoked from his pipe deeply.

“Father-!” she began again, trying to grab hold of his attention. He opened his eyes and held a finger out to silence her.

“Not now, it seems our guest has finally awoken,” he stopped her. Astra looked puzzled, turning her gaze to find both Lenore and the stranger in the room. Where on earth was Helda? She was supposed to be watching him. Her mouth parted as if she wished to say something, but she remained silent at the sight of the towering man.

“Thank you, Lenore. Please fetch our guest some food and water, I’m certain he needs both since he’s been asleep since he arrived yesterday eve,” Lord Ham commanded to which the older woman bowed her head. “At once, your Lordship,” she said and was quickly off towards the doors to the rear of the room. Astra studied the stranger a while longer, finding him somehow more familiar in his awakened state, though she couldn’t discern why she felt she knew him. He walked all the way to the head of the table, seating himself across from her at the table. She eyed him silently for some time before turning back to Lord Ham.

“I thank you for taking me into your manor, your Lordship,” the stranger said. His voice was deep and raspy, but he was very well spoken. He was no commoner, then, though his appearance was unclean and battle-worn.

“It is our pleasure to care for the needy. Lord Connor rode you back to us. Found you out and about in the miasma. Don’t you know about all that? Shouldn’t be out at night. My poor girl, Astra’s, been tending to you since you arrived.”

“Father—” Astra spoke in a warning tone, reminding him not to speak about magic. His mind often slipped back into simpler times when her mother was around. “Bah,” he huffed at her. He placed his mug onto the table forcefully, some of the ale sloshing out onto the table as he did so, then found his pipe once more. He spoke through his teeth at her. “I’ll arrange things with Lord Connor next dinner. Stranger, you agree a woman of her age should be remarried, don’t you? This mess of a girl that can’t bring herself to the table in suitable clothing needs a man in her life.”

Astra glared at her father, pulling her arms closer to her body as if to hide her battered skin. She hadn’t expected the traveler to awaken, and Lord Connor staying so late through the morning had pushed back the time she was able to work in the yard.

“I do apologize for my odd appearance, sir. As you must know, times are troubling here. I did not mean to offend your eyes. I shall excuse myself to my chambers now.” she began as she pushed her chair out from the table. She was clearly upset by the conversation of wedding Lord Connor, as well as her father's jab at her appearance. Her cheeks reddened with the anger she attempted to keep at bay.

 

[Vekraihr]

Erasmus’ eye was transfixed upon the woman who sat beside Lord Ham from the moment he’d entered the room and not much changed as he nursed his bowl of soup down to his shrivelled stomach. She dressed in such drab clothing, certainly not meant for a creature as slight and fair as she. Her voice didn’t match the attire either, speaking with all the refinement and style of a lady. She fascinated him with her beguiling nature and his azure blue eye swam with distant memories fogged by time and the miasma-induced stupor he’d only recently recovered from.

Lifting another spoonful to his mouth, more carefully now, he plunged the spoon in through the opening of his beard and began to chew slowly and deliberately. He relished in the flavor, having only a handful of prepared meals far and few between during his journey. His powerful gaze stayed upon the woman as he thought deeply, trying to guess as to what this familiarity was he felt towards her. As the Lord addressed him, his gaze and full attention turned towards the wizened man.

“It is our pleasure to care for the needy. Lord Connor rode you back to us. Found you out and about in the miasma. Don’t you know about all that? Shouldn’t be out at night. My poor girl, Astra’s been tending to you since you arrived.”

“Father-” the woman started before being cut short by her father once again. At that moment, all the pieces rapidly fell into place and Erasmus nearly choked as he gave a sharp gasp at his sudden realization. How had he not realized it? Of course she was Astra! How she spoke to him should have clued him in enough. Weariness certainly dulled his mind.

“I had heard only rumors of the miasma during my time off at war. It’s been a decade since I’ve set foot here in Mercia,” his voice was still a little worse for wear at the moment, which he addressed by downing the mug of water

“I’ll arrange things with Lord Connor next dinner. Stranger, you agree a woman of her age should be remarried, don’t you? This mess of a girl that can’t bring herself to the table in suitable clothing needs a man in her life.”

No sentence could have sharpened his mind faster. His good eye flashed with vibrancy as the surge of energy coursed through him with his comprehension of who he was in the presence of. “A woman of her beauty certainly should be wed,” he began, his raspy, bass-laden voice a little warmer thanks to the nourishing soup.

“However, this Lord Connor doesn’t sound like much of a match for your dear Astra,” he continued as he started to stand. He’d been a bit hunched over when he first came into the room, but his back had found its strength once again and he rose until he towered over the others in the room. His posture was nothing short of commanding as his years of military exercise urged his muscles to familiar positions.

“I do apologize for my odd appearance, sir. As you must know, times are troubling here. I did not mean to offend your eyes. I shall excuse myself to my chambers now.” Her words tugged at his affections for her and his resolute visage softened ever so slightly.

“Indeed, times are troubled here,” he agreed with her, “But nothing could be further from offensive than seeing you, my poor, neglected bride.” As he spoke, his hand went to his pocket and fished around briefly before pulling out a ring on a chain necklace. A signet, bearing his heraldic crest and family name. “Lord Ham, Duke of Caradoc and Lady Astra,” he addressed them both. “ I, Lord Erasmus, Margrave of Eod, ask that you forgive my extended absence,” he spoke to them both, but Astra could feel the statement was directed a little more heavily towards her.

Ham leaned in and squinted a little, his eyes failing him in his old age. Erasmus held the hand with his signet out towards Ham to inspect it with as much scrutiny as he desired. Astra seemed to find herself either nervous or shocked by his assertion, giving a short laugh to which he turned his head to face her. As his gaze found her, the already fleeing color fully left her face and Astra quietly sat back down to the table and stared. Those honeyed brown eyes once captured his full attention and continued to beckon to him now as he slowly turned and settled into his chair.

“The war ended three years ago, Lord Erasmus. Your ship was claimed at sea by a storm rumored to have been called forth just for your troop. Some of your men returned to Mercia and yet we received no news of your whereabouts. What happened out there?” Lord Ham’s voice took a more dour turn as his gaze focused intensely upon the signet before slowly handing it out towards Erasmus. His hand was softly shaking, unclear as to whether it be from age or the immensity which was dropped onto them.

“Well, as you well know, during my return from Islon with the rest of my men, the sky suddenly grew fierce and dark. The Umira Ocean churned and suddenly we were in the midst of a horrendous storm,” Erasmus began as his eye began to grow distant, as if living in that moment as he recounted his experience. “Lightning flashed across the sky, into the ocean around us. Before I knew it, we were off course and lightning forked down from the sky and through the ship, splitting our mainmast and the deck below. The ocean pushed us harder without the sails to pull power from the wind. We must have run afoul some jagged rocky outcroppings, because I was in the water clinging upon a piece of flotsam before I knew it,” he closed his eyes slowly and held a hand over his chest.

What he didn’t reveal to them was the part which darkened his memory the most. A massive, darkened shape had appeared before him on the boat and spoke in a language he’d never heard, but for some reason understood the meaning behind the words. It claimed the storm of its own making and proclaimed his bloodline cursed for drawing its attention and ire. As it struck through his chest with a savage claw, so too did the rocks tear his ship asunder. When he came to consciousness, he was floating under the midday sun in the middle of the ocean.

“It took me days...Maybe even weeks to wash ashore...When I did, I was very nearly dead. If it weren’t for the wildlings who found me, I’d be dead. I owe my life to their craft and compassion,” Erasmus’ eyes finally opened, a solemn sincerity in his expression and his eyes looked towards Astra. “I was...Not capable of travel until just a few months back...I left as soon as I could and rode for Caradoc as hard as my steed would allow me. I found this land twisted and troubled and heard terrible rumors about the crown. I pray for our souls should there be any shred of truth to be found there.” His face was stoic as he kept his gaze focused on Astra before tearing it away to look down upon his disheveled appearance.

“I would appreciate the opportunity to make myself more presentable. If there might be some way I could trim and bathe myself?” Erasmus felt very out of place in this moment, having long played the role of a soldier, where his appearance mattered very little. All that had mattered then was the ferocity with which he swung his great-axe.

 

[Jumbled]

Astra could feel the stranger’s eyes fixed on her, much in the same way that Lord Connor stared, though it seemed like curiosity from the scraggly man across from her now; he had a genuine interest in her, for whatever reason. Avoiding eye contact, she looked down, realizing how under dressed she was for guests in that moment. ‘Of course he’s staring, oh Gods.’ she thought. Her body stiffened with her spiked nerves and embarrassment. She should have washed up before joining her father. She glanced back up occasionally, finding the man across from her nursing his soup more steadily than before, though still staring. He had recovered very well compared to other men. Perhaps it was due to his size. His arms were broad and muscular. His height was comparable to that of the man she’d married when she was 16. She hadn’t seen a man that tall since, though Lord Erasmus was certainly not as muscular as the stranger that sat before her currently.

Nodding when her father commented on her caring for the man, she continued to avoid his gaze. She hoped her father remembered not to speak of magic. His mind slipped far more easily these days. As she gave her father her warning tone, she’d looked up long enough to see the stranger nearly choke on his food. She tilted her head with concern. It sounded as though he had tried to breathe in his food instead of chewing and swallowing it. “Careful, sir…” she cautioned. He seemed well enough, though his voice only sounded half-present while he spoke.

Astra listened to the traveler as he recalled of his time at war, though he was brief. Ten years was a long time to stay away from home, she thought. But, ten years was indeed how long it had been since all the able-bodied men left for port. The anniversary of her wedding had passed only a month ago, giving her the most recent excuse as to why she couldn’t possibly marry Lord Connor. And as her father spoke once more on the topic of Connor, she realized her time as a widow was nearing its end. As he mentioned her attire she was reminded once more of her appearance before glaring at him. He knew how much she did for the household; for the villagers. He didn’t have to be so cruel.

“A woman of her beauty certainly should be wed,” the stranger spoke. Taking his compliment as nothing more than a sarcastic jab at her current appearance, she rolled her eyes.
‘Great, another man to validate father’s opinions.’
“However, this Lord Connor doesn’t sound like much of a match for your dear Astra,” he continued.

Astra turned her head, giving the man her full attention. She hadn’t expected that second part. Suspicious of most men, she took it to mean that the stranger was going to suggest he should wed her instead. Why were men so controlling and possessive of women? She watched as he stood at his full height, his posture stronger than when he first entered the room. She could only imagine what he was about to propose in that moment, so before he could, she also stood to excuse herself from the entire ordeal.

“Indeed, times are troubled here,” he agreed with her, “But nothing could be further from offensive than seeing you, my poor, neglected bride.”

“Oh Gods,” Astra muttered aloud. Maybe the miasma had gotten into this giant’s head. He was so bold as to call her his bride, and she didn’t even know this idiot’s name. She shook her head as he fished around for something; a necklace. She glanced at it briefly, barely paying it any mind. This guy was off his rocker.

“Lord Ham, Duke of Caradoc and Lady Astra,” he addressed them both. “ I, Lord Erasmus, Margrave of Eod, ask that you forgive my extended absence,” he spoke to them both, but Astra could feel the statement was directed a little more heavily towards her.

Astra couldn’t contain a laugh of disbelief. This man was so bold as to impersonate— she turned to look at the man claiming to be her long lost husband. Her face went from irritation to utter shock. Her eyes widened and her face went white. Perhaps she was, indeed, seeing a ghost. As if her legs could no longer hold the weight of her body, Astra fell back into her chair, her hands gripping the armrests with white knuckles. Her eyes were locked onto him as she tried to piece the information back together. Perhaps under the mass of muscle and forest of facial hair, she could see the features of a man she’d seen ten years ago.

As he recounted his time lost at sea, Astra’s mind finally spun itself back together before unraveling again. Luckily her father was capable of carrying on the conversation on his own because she was quite useless in her current state.

“Ah, the wildling witches,” her father spoke with a warm fondness in his voice, the same tone he took when recalling her mother, Astrid. “It’s no wonder you’d taken so long to come back, then lad. Those women are something else. Astra’s mother was a—”

“Father!” Astra suddenly interjected with the utmost urgency. Her hands had crashed along the edges of the table sending a spoon off the surface with a clang onto the ground as she rose from her seat. Ham stared at her as if she were wearing some strange mask on her face, appalled by her behavior.

Erasmus then requested a bath and shave, a request Astra found quite opportune. “Helda!” she shouted as she stood the rest of the way, her voice carrying through the halls with an overall tone of rage and haste. She then fled from the table in a swift walk out of the room to the stairwell that housed her bedchambers.

So, her husband was suddenly alive, and had been too busy enjoying the compassion of wildling witches to come back? It didn’t take a man that long to recover from being out at sea, she imagined. Astra had cared for many people, and as quickly as Erasmus had healed from the miasma in his lungs, she was sure he wasn’t saying everything there was to say. He enjoyed other women? Fine. What did she honestly care? She wanted no man, so he could run around with whatever suited his needs for all she cared.

Astra slid a large chest in front of her heavy wooden door. That man was not going to call on her this night, husband or not. She was not sharing a bed with anyone other than the two crows that perched along her bed that eve. Fuming, Astra slammed her shutters closed and the crows shifted and flapped their wings uncomfortably, squawking at her in protest. “Oh, stop!” she yelled at them, still heated from everything that had just happened downstairs. She threw herself onto her bed with an emotional huff before tossing herself over to her side. Her night was not going to be filled with peaceful sleep, that much was certain.

The next day broke and Astra rolled over, finding a crow standing on her mattress, tilting its head down with its beak near her face before opening it wide to let out a loud caw. She winced, thrusting a pillow over toward the bird as she turned herself over to fall out of bed nearest the wall with the window. She slumped her tired body over to the shutters, opening them to let the birds out. It was morning, which meant she had new work to do. She groaned at the very thought. She was too tired, but responsibility pushed her to undo the barricade from her door and go outside.

The sun had barely surfaced from the horizon, not that it ever really mattered, but the air wasn’t thick with the toxic plague that fell during the night. She grabbed her torch and went downstairs, hoping to leave the manor before the others had awakened. Her frustrations would be the fuel that pushed her to destroy the creeper vines that morn. She'd return in several hours for a quick meal prepared by Helda once she'd settled into the new morning.

The air outside was heavy, like a wet blanket that pressed against one's body while trudging through thick mud. But, there was no mud because the lands were nearly barren. The estate was massive, especially when only cared for by one small girl. The others had their duties and she had hers. Her torchlight grew faint as she walked further out onto the property where the gardens were, axe gripped firmly in her main hand. She’d made the mistake of leaving her tools closer to the garden before, and the vines took them all away during the night. The gardens, once massive and private, were now smaller and kept alive by magic so that she could feed any villagers that remained, which was tricky in its own right. The brambles were drawn toward magic, so using it was risky. She had to be strategic in her methods of maintaining the food supplies.

Although the horses that remained were thinner than an ideal horse should be, they were able to live off of what little grass and tree leaves they could find. Astra spent some of her energy in a main pasture for them to graze on each Sunday, but her lack of sleep was weighing heavily upon her mind and soul. Stupid husband. Just as much as Lord Connor was a concern for her the prior day, she now had to worry about the man that loved witches. Or perhaps that was a blessing. How was she supposed to get everything done with such split focus?

Astra pushed the thoughts out of her mind. He was a dead man, she was a widow. That’s how it was. He couldn’t just return after ten years and expect them to just pick right back up where they’d left off. There was nothing to pick back up. The lands were dead. The country was cursed. The people were sick and starving. There was nothing at all.

Astra’s torch rested aside a pole near the garden while she swung with all her might at the brambles that traveled from the far left side of the estate toward the garden. All of the pieces would be burned, some of them used for firewood inside the manor. She’d found no negative side effects from doing so, so long as the fire was naturally lit. The thorns gashed their way into her flesh, tearing new holes in her trousers and along her legs. She was always a bloodied mess by the end of her work.

 

[Vekraihr]

Erasmus couldn’t help but notice how Astra avoided any attempt at eye contact he made, looking down even and he couldn’t help but wonder if he were somehow making her uncomfortable. Or perhaps she was so put off by her father’s commentary about her attire. Such things weren’t too focused upon in the military and he’d never been concerned with style of dress to begin with. She did steal glances at him and he wondered what she might be seeing underneath his undignified exterior. Her lovely eyes and her feminine face had certainly only developed and bloomed as she aged, looking just as appealing, if not more so, to him as on their wedding day.

Astra looked at him as if he were a revenant and he didn’t have the brashness to question her for it. He’d certainly been to his grave’s edge and was only narrowly clutched from it thanks to the acceptance and talents of the wildling witches. Erasmus shifted a little bit in his chair, seeming as though he might be uncomfortable from how intensely she was staring at him. It certainly did make him a bit self-conscious but most of his discomfort arose from his internal struggle of how much information to disclose.

Lord Ham’s implication of Erasmus’ misadventures set him to a stern look and he opened his mouth to defend himself before Astra slammed her hands upon the table. Erasmus looked at her with a mixture of confusion and pensiveness. Certainly she couldn’t also be thinking of what her father was so happy to conjure forth? Erasmus shifted uncomfortably again, feeling the tension centered around him in the room as though he were the eye to a terrible storm. It certainly seemed as though his fortunes had turned, though.

As Astra fled the chamber, he reached a hand towards her and opened his mouth to call to her, only for Lord Ham to weakly pull at his arm. “Leave her to it. Her emotions will have calmed by morning,” he said as Helda began to walk into the room. “Yes, your Lordship?” Helda looked at Ham and almost completely missed the fact that the stranger she was meant to be watching was at the table.

“O-oh my God! I’m so sorry, sir! I just needed to step out for a moment--” Ham stopped her with a raise of his hand and shook his head. “That’s not why you’ve been summoned. Show this man to where he might bathe and shave. Also, it might serve you to know this man is Lord Erasmus, who you may remember is the husband to my daughter,” his older age certainly hadn’t made him speak with any less authority towards the servants of his household. Erasmus merely offered a small smile and nodded his head as Lord Ham spoke, not wishing to interrupt the Duke in his own household.

“Of course, sir! Lord Erasmus, sir, a great pleasure to have you here!” Helda offered a curtsy before straightening her dress a little. “If you’d follow me, please, we’ll have a bath prepared for you and whatever implements you need for a shave and haircut,” she said as she began to turn and walk out of the room. He sighed and looked at the remaining soup in his bowl, then to Lord Ham.

“I thank you for your hospitality, Lord Ham,” the margrave said sincerely before picking up the bowl of soup and drinking the rest of it, having almost half a bowl of broth and few errant pieces left within. Lord Ham waved his hand and gave a small wave with his wrist. “Don’t mention it. It is always a pleasure to have guests here. Especially ones of such import.” Standing from the table, Erasmus bowed politely before turning on his heel and striding from the room hurriedly.

‘The sooner I get cleaned up, the better. I’m not in the military anymore,’ he thought to himself as he was lead down the hall and through a few twists and turns. Finally, Helda stopped at an ornate wooden door and opened it to the bathroom inside. “We’ll start bringing some hot water right away,” she said as she grabbed a length of stick from a container near the doorway, lighting it upon a nearby torch and she began to light the lanterns in the bathroom. She searched around the room for a moment, finding within the drawers everything needed for him to properly barber himself.

“Thank you, Helda,” he said a bit absentmindedly, thinking of how Astra had reacted to the revelation of his identity. It was difficult to discern what exactly had upset her so ferociously without her speaking of it. She certainly seemed in no mood for further discussion and his brow furrowed with frustration at his inability to allay any of her concerns or pains. He didn’t let this trouble him for too long, however, as he believed that time and more conversation would help set them down a happier path.

Thanking the servants as they prepared his bath, Erasmus took the time to trim and shave while waiting for the water to cool a bit. Soaking and washing himself for the better part of an hour, he’d be unrecognizable as the man who had walked in. His beard had been trimmed down to around half an inch long and his cheeks were clean-shaven to his jawline, save for his sideburns. His hair had been somewhat sloppily but nicely cut, leaving it just a bit longer on top than he did on the sides. He brushed his fingers through the gray running along the sides of his head, looking at himself in the mirror. His rugged face held some lines from age, crows feet starting to spread from his eyes and creases forming at the edges of his mouth. The one fold was particularly noticeable on the side of his face which was permanently grinning.

Still naked, his eye followed the nearly half a foot wide scar which started just below where his sternum began and narrowed as it ran fully down through the middle of his abdomen and ended at his bellybutton. “I should have died, then…” Erasmus said, remembering the sensation of choking on his own blood and being incapable of breathing. He touched the scar and sighed before putting his clothes on and extinguishing all the lights in the room.

He made his way along the corridors, having a very good sense of direction and he found the room he’d awoken in. Here would be as good a place as any to sleep, he figured. Distractedly, he tended to the fire within the stove to ensure it burned well through the night. Erasmus then found his way into the bed and settled in, finding himself in a comfortable enough position before closing his eyes.

As darkness took over his vision and he began to drift into unconsciousness, he found himself standing within a field in some sort of dream. Overhead, the night sky was dark and devoid of any stars. Beneath, the grass appeared to be completely black and even he himself had no color in this land devoid of light. Suddenly, a voice spoke to him, omnipresent and sourceless.

“My corruption still flows within you…” rumbling and guttural, a bellowing laughter was accompanied by a shift in the winds. “And my gift still spreads across the land...Blessing your kingdom with my offering…Submit…” A growl built up around him before the ground itself seemed to heave before cracking in front of Erasmus. Jumping back, pillars of smoke and ash coiled up from the fissure and into the sky. The darkest colors coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape of monstrous proportions, which towered before him as coal red eyes flared to life. “It’ll be so much easier for you to just give in…” it spoke to him and, despite it being present, no mouth moved and the voice continued to sound from all sides of him. “Never.” Erasmus stood defiantly before the creature, spitting at it as it angrily roared at his insolence. A massive maw opened, full of jagged shadows which pierced into him from all angles as its jaws closed around him. Pain shot across every inch as he was stabbed from every side and his mouth opened to gasp.​

Drawing in a deep breath, Erasmus shot up from the bed, covered in a cold sweat and he looked over to the stove which had gone out at some point, allowing a chill to the air. He rubbed his eyes as he stood and checked the fuel within the stove, seeing it had barely burned at all. Something had put it out and he had a suspicion his dream, or vision, likely had a hand in it. Judging by the lack of light from outside, Erasmus gathered it was sometime in the early morning. Giving a deep sigh of resignation, he went to find himself some water to quench the unnatural dryness in his throat.

Successful in his mission, Erasmus stood in one of the doorways of the manor and simply sipped his water, not expecting to hear anything. However, much to his surprise, he began to hear light footsteps and he watched from the shadowed door frame as Astra made her way outside. Did she always wear those clothes when she was tending to the manor’s grounds? If so, it seemed to explain their tattered and worn nature. Erasmus allowed her a short period of time ahead of him before following her outside, trying not to draw too much attention to himself but also not trying to stay hidden, either.

Watching from a few yards away, he was impressed by her command with the axe as she started to slash her way through the brambles which seemed to permeate the entire countryside of his homeland. That was quite a difficult thing to get used to on his way from Aesadius as his memory of home was much more vibrant and pleasant. Watching her act upon necessity and desire to help made him feel a sense of pride that she once was his. Hopefully, with time, he could win himself back into her good graces and she would see him as she once may have.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat audibly and took a few steps towards her. “Good morning, Astra. So...Am I correct in presuming that you’re the reason why the gardens there are so tended to? As well as the relatively pure conditions of the manor’s grounds?” he questioned her, his voice resonant with bass as his eye glimmering with curiosity and warmth.
Astra looked at him slyly as she replied simply, “Well it’s certainly not father’s doing, sir.” Erasmus couldn’t help but smile at that answer and a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I’m honestly quite impressed, ma’am. Your figure is slight and feminine, belying the strength you hold within. Besides that, you keep an entire village fed and it seems you are shouldering most of the burden. Not to discount the efforts of your father’s staff,” his voice was warm and present this morning, though a small part of him was still with his nightmare. Upon any scrutiny, he would be apparently not well rested.

Astra looked as though she was trying to find the right words to say, seeming brought off guard by his kindness. Erasmus just smiled warmly at her and he leaned against the pole where her torch rested. He crossed his arms, causing his muscular upper arms to swell against the fabric of his shirt. He looked down towards the ground and shook his head with a grin. “It never ceases to amaze me what you witches can accomplish. Such a shame that, from what I hear, your kind has been villainized in this country,” he said genuinely, wearing a bit of obvious frustration on his face with his last sentence.

He looked up to face her, the frustration on his face melting away in lieu of a steely resolve. “But, your secret is safe with me...And I’ll sooner take it to my grave than to see you hurt by it. Now, what can I do to help?”

 

[Jumbled]

Astra chopped through vines as she always did; her mornings were predictable and hardly changed. So, when the sound of a man clearing his throat sounded behind her, she jumped out of her skin, turning with the axe in hand only to find the muscular frame of a war-battered man approaching her. It took her nearly halfway through his greeting before her body lost its stiffness and she lowered the axe to her side. His words, though deeply spoken, were well-natured and in no way hostile. This man, her assumed deceased husband, had apparently followed her outside. She was certain he’d sleep through the night and well into the morning, but perhaps the food hadn’t filled him enough for a sound slumber. Then again, how well did soldiers ever really sleep? Her father was always so restless, so perhaps most men were just the same.​

Observing him under the torchlight, she wondered how much of her he could actually see with his one good eye. She had noted his wounds under better lighting when he was unconscious and she tended to him, his one eye was far too damaged to ever see out of again. She tried not to stare so blatantly at the scar that ran down his face, so she averted her gaze further down, finding his arms and chest. His muscular form was so foreign to her she couldn’t help but lock eyes onto his body. The men that stayed in the cursed lands were sickly and scrawny, as one might expect from such a plague of sunless days and toxic nights. Peeling her eyes away, she lifted her axe again as she gave him a sly look. There wasn’t anyone else to work the lands, and he clearly saw her (or perhaps not so clearly) working in the garden. She wasn’t sure what he was implying with his questions, either.​

As she pondered his motive for following her outside, she noted the rumble and warmth of his voice. His throat was recovering nicely, at least. She didn’t know what to say to him as he spoke about her and the staff. “Yes, well…” she started, trailing off as she picked up the axe, trying to push herself into working again. Having an audience wasn’t ideal, she had managed to avoid Lord Connor at the very least, but Erasmus was a much larger force of a man to shoo away. Her arms lifted in the air, preparing to continue her chopping when he next spoke.​

​

“It never ceases to amaze me what you witches can accomplish.”​

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. Through her mid swing, she’d lost her grasp on the axe and it flew forward several feet into a large patch of thorns and vines. She looked at Erasmus with wide eyes almost shaking with shock. She couldn’t believe what he’d dared to mutter.​

​

“Sir you have lived in this same country your whole adolescent life. You very well know what they do to a person they believe to be a witch.” She felt her heart ache for her mother just then, but pushed through the feelings. “Whatever my father might have said, you must understand that he is not well. Perhaps you have some fondness of the women you’ve left behind and hope somehow I can fill this gap for you but I am not them.” she told him, her words somehow sounding like a warning. Her nostrils flared as she looked away, locating her tool buried halfway through the thicker part of a vine. “If you want to help, never openly state such things again.”​

Though she never once denied his actual claim, she certainly talked her way around it quickly enough to hope he would drop the subject. She stepped into the bulk of thorns as carefully as she could in hopes to grasp her weapon without maiming herself in the process, all while her mind raced in circles around what he’d said. Was he daft? Was he simply there to trap her and have her hanged? She should have just let him die when Connor brought him in.​

“It’s said that these brambles are attracted to magic. They sap it out of the lands. Anytime people begin to suspect something magical is at play, as if to save themselves from these things, they kill the supposed witch attracting them. As you can see, such thoughts are idiotic. All of the slaughter past us and the lands are still overrun. When the night falls and the thick miasma spreads through the air, the vines come back.”​

Astra wasn’t entirely sure why she was taking the time to give him any explanation. Her tone was soft and mournful as she took another calculated step toward her weapon. “I’m not sure what you expected to find, coming back to this place, but perhaps you were better off up in those mountains. So, if you wish to leave, there won’t be any heartache on my end. Go live with your wildling women and enjoy what life you’ll make with them. You owe me nothing, if this is simply you filling some obligation to me because of a silly wedding ten years ago... I’d long since thought you dead, Erasmus.” she said, looking back over to him. Distracted, Astra lost her footing on a vine as she slid, her ankle turning in such a way to send her falling down into the thorns below her.​

 

[Vekraihr]

Astra’s release of the axe and shocked expression was the exact confirmation Erasmus needed to defend his claim. His eye, still warm and kindly, held thoughts and distant memories swimming behind it. He indeed was raised in this kingdom and, while he’d never seen it with his own eyes, there were tales of how witches were hung, burned, and sometimes worse. It was the way of war, after all, to demolish your enemy’s resolve with atrocities. Make them afraid to show their faces. For a brief moment, he remembered the early days of war and was gone to mind’s eye.

He shook his head back to the present as she continued to speak to him. He noted some unseen emotion swell beneath the surface, something innate within him picking up on the feeling before it was suppressed. He was unable to read further into the emotion than that it had existed.

“My only fondness for those who brought me from the brink is the same fondness one might feel for their mother or father. Maybe the taint in this land has spread to your minds as well, as you and your father hint at some imagined, lascivious escapades at any opportunity,” his tone conveyed his weariness of such thoughts. A long, deep sigh followed as he listened to her next words with a nod. “Of course I wouldn’t. But who here is to listen but the shrubs?” he asked as he gestured around them.

Erasmus noted how Astra merely dodged the topic of her being a witch deftly without ever outright refusing its legitimacy. More confirmation for him. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her wander into the brambles and he took a few steps closer and stood patiently as if he were going to defend her from the thorny brush if it suddenly sprang up to attack.

He listened to her explanation of the bramble’s behavior intently and nodded slowly. “It would explain why nearly everything is dead, then. I suppose the common folk must think witchcraft is more widely spread, considering how damn near the entire country side is affected. Otherwise, you’d think this blight would be a little more...Particular about where its roots wander?” He heard her mention the miasma, something he’d heard of a few times before but he never really got a clear description of, though he knew now that it was more treacherous than he’d anticipated.

Erasmus listened to Astra speak to him as a woman who had settled into her place in the world, accepted her heartache long ago, and his heart ached with the thought of how she must have suffered without knowing what had come of him. Erasmus heard the telltale sound of sliding and, as she fell towards the thorns below, stepped forward, tearing through the brambles as they dug into him. His strong, dense arm wrapped around her waist in a flash and halted her descent with the ease of lifting a handkerchief and the tenderness of a falling feather. His grip was not soft, sure as the breath in his lungs and the blood that trickled from his gouged arms and legs.

“I expected to find you...Perhaps get reacquainted with you. I didn’t expect to find this curse upon the land. And you’re right, I probably would have been better off up in those mountains, where I was fed and could feel the sun gracing my skin. But I came here because that wedding was anything but silly to me and that damned war ruined what could have been the happiest years of our lives. I don’t think we’re the same people that we were then...But, given time, maybe we’ll find out we still do something for each other. If not, then I’ll consider it time well spent,” he said with a soft smile before grabbing the axe in his other hand and he carried both out of the brambles. The axe seemed almost weightless in his hand and the old weapon seemed to groan in protest to his grip.

Once clear of the brambles, Erasmus set Astra to her feet and sighed softly as he looked out over the land. He then began to toss the axe back and forth between his hands, seeming to gauge the weight and balance of it before clasping it a foot and a half up from the end of the haft. Turning towards the brambles, he drew the axe back and slashed through with such speed that the weapon could be heard parting the air. Despite the age and poor condition of the blade, which desperately needed a honing, Erasmus still managed to cut though several vines with just one swing. “A little...Aged, but I imagine she used to be a fine weapon,” he said with a smile. Unbeknownst to him, as he looked upon those twisted plants with the intent to cut them, his desires manifested into steel, hardening and sharpening it for just the moment that he swung through before that energy began to rapidly dissipate. If Astra had been paying close attention, she may have caught the phenomenon.

“I could use the exercise, why not let me tend to what need be done with this and your hands may be free to attend to other matters?” he suggested discreetly, not truly knowing the nature of her daily ministrations in these gardens. All he did know was that, while he was here, he would not make himself a burden and would do whatever he could to lessen the burden on her. She’d been shouldering too much on her own, he thought. He couldn’t help but admire the resolve she mustered in order to continue on as she had.

 

[Jumbled]

As her foot began to slide in the wrong direction, Astra’s balance threatened her body with piercings from the thorns. In all reality, it could have been a deadly situation if she landed the wrong way. Not even having time to react with panic or some last minute solution, she felt the strength of a weathered soldier wrap around her waist, holding her back at a tilt, safely away from the disaster that could have been. She looked up at him, his face quite close to her own as she locked eyes with his (more so his good eye). Her breathing was sharp and her heart thumped quickly as she recovered from the terror of the other outcomes her imagination was continuing to invent. She hadn’t even noticed her own hand clamped onto the material of his shirt near his collar.​

​

Erasmus held her there securely as blood trailed down his arm and only gods knew where else. Astra’s mind raced about, trying to grasp the situation more fully, though she struggled to focus. He spoke, still holding her safely away from the treacherous vines, about her; about them and their once promised life together. His idea of the entire ordeal sounded so sweet and genuine. Such thoughts had never once crossed her mind at that time. She remembered feeling relief when he had to leave after the wedding. It seemed like fortuitous timing because she was left to live with her father and could not be given away to another man so long as she was wed. Perhaps things were just different when you were a younger girl being handed off to a man without any say in the matter. Still, she found his words appealing and nice to listen to. He was far better spoken that Lord Connor, at the very least.​

​

Perhaps it was his height that made it so easy for Erasmus to hold her above the ground while straightening his posture and grabbing onto the axe. Still, her fingers clutched onto his shirt as she wrapped her other hand around him, gripping onto his shoulder. It was frightening to just dangle over the spindley vines of doom and death. Soon, though, he had her clear of them and placed her feet back onto the ground. Astra’s eyes hadn’t broken their stare since he’d caught her, so when her feet felt the solid earth below them, she seemed shaken and blinked several times. It took her a moment to realize he was bending toward her so closely because she still had hold of him. Perhaps he looked concerned, or simply wanted his tunic released, because he looked down to where her hand met his chest and Astra’s gaze eventually followed it.​

As if reality had finally set in the rest of the way, the woman very quickly snatched both of her hands back close to her chest, looking away from him as though she was embarrassed. He had given himself enough space in that time to swing around her axe, getting a feel for its weight in his hands. She almost objected, thinking to take it back, but words were lost on her. She stared at him, reminding herself that she was married to the man before her. How was he already so well recovered from the pain of the thorns? Did war really make a man hard? Such thoughts made Astra wonder what precisely he had lived through in those ten years he had been gone. As Erasmus swung the weapon down with such speed and strength, Astra couldn’t help but notice as several crows called out and flew up into the sky above. She stared up, tilting her head with wonder, though it was difficult to see the black birds in the darkness above.​

Astra looked back to the man before her as he spoke out. He was offering her far more than she could have hoped, and yet she was hesitant to take him up on his offer. She had a suspicion he wasn’t going to drop the witch thing, and yet he was willing to let her tend to things she needed to without his watchful eye on her. She shifted her feet, pulling herself closer together as she tucked a mess of hair behind an ear. Taking a moment to find the words she wanted, she finally landed on the question she wanted to ask.​

“You really didn’t bed any of them?” she looked at him with an intense, yet hopeful, gaze. She wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to her, but from the moment her father had suggested such a thing it wouldn’t leave her mind.​

Astra felt relief in knowing that she wouldn’t have to use as much energy that morning on chopping. She felt a little guilty since Erasmus was still healing and had already wounded himself because of her on the thorns, but as tired as she was, she welcomed the help. Every day seemed to take a little more out of her. She would tend to the horse pasture while he hacked away near the gardens, then she could send him in for a meal and do what needed done once he was away.​

She turned away, heading toward her new task, but paused for a moment to look back at him. “You really should be cautious around the shrubs. They tend to gossip.”​

She nearly smirked before continuing to walk away from him, leaving him to work.​

 

[Vekraihr]

Erasmus’ eye had the warm smolder of intent as she held onto him and their eyes locked briefly. And, despite the thorns having torn into him so thoroughly, she found nary a wince upon his grizzled face. Her hand clamped upon his shirt and then the other around his shoulder, making the corner of eyes wrinkle a little with a bemused grin. It was almost like a lover’s embrace, though he knew better than to think of it as such. His amused grin transitioned to a brief, light chuckle as she continued to hold onto him feverishly as he placed her on the ground. His gaze looked at where she had made purchase on him and her embarrassment made the situation all the more amusing to him. However, he didn’t laugh this time in order to spare her further.​

War had certainly come a long way to making Erasmus what he is today, though there was something more. Underneath his exterior, an impressive bastion of will fortified his demeanor. Erasmus continued to swing through the brambles after making his offer of aid, cutting through one or more with each swing as his muscles rippled with vigor. He heard the crows calling and he tilted his head a little. He’d heard them a lot more often since he’d entered this cursed land. It seemed some stereotypes proved to be truer than others.​

Erasmus stopped swinging as Astra spoke to him and his head turned towards her, his one good eye scanning her up and down. He was taking in everything about how she spoke to him, both verbally and physically. “I didn’t… From the moment they woke me, my goal has been to get back to you, Astra. I had neither the time nor desire for such philandering,” he explained to her with calm sincerity. He read the relief from her as she looked at him handling the axe so well, and he smiled a little knowing that he had at least eased her of one burden.​

As she began to walk away, Erasmus stopped and watched her for a moment, axe hefted over his right shoulder. She’d catch him staring at her as she walked away and he looked at her and gave a deep chuckle to her jest. “Duly noted. I’ll be sure to keep the confidentials away from prying leaves and nosy fronds.” As she informed him of the wheelbarrow and the ritual of burning the brambles back, he listened with a stoic expression and nodded slowly. “Thank you for the information,” he replied and gave a soft smile.​

Once she had gone, Erasmus turned to focus on the task at hand. First, he walked towards the shed to grab the wheelbarrow to load the chopped pieces of bramble into. He also looked around for a stone to sharpen the axe with, opening a few cabinets covered in dust and cobwebs before finding what he had been looking for. Sitting on the ground, he took the head in hand and began to run the stone along the blade until it shone and glinted with the muted tones that filtered through the darkness. Satisfied, he made his way back towards where the brambles were encroaching upon the property.​

Every so often, Erasmus would take short breaks from his work in order to check on Astra and ensure she was doing well. He never got too close or made enough noise in order to tip her off to his presence, nor did he linger long enough for her to steal a glance at him. He found himself having to go and empty the wheelbarrow several times to keep the branches from spilling onto the ground. The first time he stocked the firewood pile, and the rest he took to the field to burn with the rest that she and the stable master were setting ablaze. As he was greeted with a nod, Erasmus waved one hand with fingers outstretched towards the man.​

He didn’t count the time as the minutes turned to hours and, a few hours since he’d begun, his eyes appraised the nearly clearcut area. Sweat glistened upon his brow, the work being a little more exertion than he’d had to put forth lately.​

With each swing of the weapon, Erasmus was reminded of his time at war and how, in the beginning, weapons felt so foreign in his hands. Towards the end, he felt more comfortable with a weapon in hand. Especially his great axe, a weapon which he had taken a particular liking to and one which had been specially crafted for him upon his attainment of an officer’s position. Plants were less messy to cut through, he thought. Made less noise, too.​

Breaking him out of his thoughts, he found Astra to be walking over towards the area and he wondered how well he fared versus her. He was able to cut through many times what she had been, and his eye was focused on gleaning whatever thoughts she had to offer. “I hope I wasn’t a disappointment. My axe swinging is a little rusty with such a small one,” he said as he held the weapon easily with one hand and turned the blade back and forth as he appraised the damage done to it.

He didn’t realize it, but he’d worked up quite the appetite as he had worked for so long and his stomach growled audibly and almost angrily as he put a hand on his abdomen. “Not so rude in front of the lady,” he joked, looking back up to Astra with a lopsided grin. His stomach, as if responding, growled a little lower and in a more drawn out manner. The sound drew a warm chuckle from Erasmus’ chest and he patted his stomach a couple of times, “That’s better.”

 

[Jumbled]

Astra stole another glance at Erasmus as he swung her axe at the cluster of brambles. She walked over to the old gardening shed nearby, grabbing onto a spare torch, then returned to the pole that held the original one. As she waited for the fire to consider whether or not the new torch was worthy of its flame, Astra stared a little longer at the man working before her. She wasn’t certain about whether or not she could truly trust him and she actively worked to convince herself that it was the only reason she continued to stare.​

“If you really do insist on helping, then there’s an old wheelbarrow just over there for transport. I save what’s needed for firewood, and the rest is burned on the property. The field I have to work today will be the main burning site, so if the smoke bothers your lungs, feel free to quit now and retreat inside. Once the vines are cut far enough away from the garden, they will need to be burned further back as well. This is typically a Saturday chore, however, your arrival set my timing awry.”​

Astra wandered down to the stables to meet up with Brinley. She found the man propped up against a wall, taking a swig of drink from the old flask that he typically housed in his inner jacket pocket. As he saw her approach with her torch in hand, he tipped his flask toward her as if to say “cheers” to her. She shook her head with half a smile then placed a free hand on her hip.​

“I know it’s dark out, but I’m fairly certain it’s still morning, Brinley.” she lectured him.​

​

“Aye, but no better time than the present. You want some?” he asked with an outstretched hand toward her.​

“No, that’s alright. Well be working on the pasture today. And I’ll have to find time to prep the garden for the next night’s town supper. So, if you’re ready to work, I suggest we use this early, though late start, to our advantage.”​

“Shouldn’t you be in the gardens, though?” he asked her. His question seemed to make her slightly uncomfortable it seemed because she shifted her stance and looked away.​

​

“My…. husband…. Is tending to the vines, currently.” she managed to say.​

Brinley tucked his flask away and pushed himself away from the wall. “Ah, that’s right. I heard about the Lord’s return. Isn’t that something?” he asked as he gazed out in the direction of the manor. “Indeed, it is,” Astra replied flatly. “Are you ready then?” she asked him, steering the conversation in the direction she wanted it to go.​

The two went out to the field in question and set up for a long day’s worth of work. Brinley stopped his work to glance up at the hulk of a man carting the wheelbarrow over with the remains of his viny slaughter. Brinley nodded his head respectfully, glancing back at Astra as if to better gauge her opinion of his being there now. He’d known Astra for a decent while and had never once seen her with a man before. He’d always known she was married when she was younger, but figured since the guy had never been around she may have grown a little more curious or interested in others over time. That never happened. Astra spent more time in the stables avoiding her most recent “caller” Connor, though he supposed she might not need to do such a thing anymore. Brinley shrugged his head and shoulder to the silent conversation he’d been having in his head before continuing with the field.​

Some time had passed before Astra returned to the garden. “I hope I wasn’t a disappointment. My axe swinging is a little rusty with such a small one,” he said as she approached. She looked at him, then down to the ground where massive chunks of the awful plants were hacked away. She wondered if his comment was pertaining to the vines or his overall returning. She still hadn’t decided. Still, the idea of him versus Connor made it an easier choice.​

“Your hands would likely make anything seem small.” she quipped. “The burning in the field is nearly done and Brinley currently has it under control. It looks ready over here for burning as well. It’s quite the process, this mess of work. We have to do it every week.” she told him.​

The angry objections of Erasmus’ stomach cut through the awkward silence that had started to form between the two of them and out of nowhere he scolded it like it was some sort of child. Astra looked at him with an overly confused expression. His humor seemed out of place, or perhaps childish, and she had no idea how to respond to it. It growled once more and he remained committed to his little skit he had going.​

“Well, uh, I suppose you should head back to the manor for some food. I’m sure the others are awake by now. Helda can fix something up for you."​

 

[Vekraihr]

Erasmus looked at Astra and her limited reaction to his attempt at humor. He made a note of this in his mind and he gave a slow nod. “You should get something to eat as well. It’s not good to work too long on an empty stomach. Trust me,” he said before turning towards the manor and he began to stride back slowly. He took a few steps before remembering the axe in his hand and he turned back and grabbed the wheelbarrow, taking both tools back to the shed silently. Then would he resume his departure for the residence. He wasted little time with getting food and drink before going back out to the field to continue to aid in whatever way he could.

Brinley hailed him as he walked out and motioned for him to come over with a wave of his arm. “Hello, I’m Brinley. I tend to the livestock around here,” he said cordially while extending a hand. Erasmus took his hand and gave a firm shake with his dominant stature, nodding his head politely, “I’m Lord Erasmus Concord, Margrave of Eod. A pleasure, sir.” His face was contorted in its half-grinning state, his expression warm but stern. The area where Erasmus had cut earlier was now smoldering and burning behind the stable master.

“So, Lord Erasmus. I’m going to need you to stay with me and help tend to the fires...Make sure it doesn’t burn out of control,” Brinley said while glancing towards where Astra would currently be ensuring there was enough food to go around. “And where is the lady of the manor?” Erasmus asked as he looked in the direction where Brinley was looking. “Oh, the lady is just...Tending to the horses,” he said dodgily as he looked back towards Erasmus, who cast his gaze over Brinley’s head to the full stables.

“The horses, huh?” he asked with an inquisitive tone, crossing his arms a little bit and he looked down towards Brinley. The stable keep looked towards the horses, then back with a shrug, raising his eyebrows a couple times, “Eh?” It seemed more than he knew of Astra’s disposition, though it seemed that everyone else was just as defensive about the fact as she seemed to be. “Well, far be it for me know how many horses you keep,” Erasmus dismissed the conversation with a shrug of his own and began to watch the fires as they burned away the impurities of the land. Brinley heaved a sigh of relief.

A few hours would pass with them watching after the fire and ensuring it didn’t overgrow their bounds. After the fires began to subside near the gardens, Brinley nodded and looked at Erasmus. “Alright, we need to go do the horses, now. Feed them and exercise them before the night comes,” he said as he noticed Astra making her way over towards the gardens. “Yes, we need to go do that now,” he added on as he began to walk swiftly towards the stables. Erasmus followed, keeping stride with him in only the way military men knew how, each step falling with Brinley’s despite the height difference.

They passed by Astra on the way towards the stable and Brinley offered her a smile. “We’re just going to be over there, tending to the horses. Making sure they’re good for the evening. Over there,” he said while gesturing far off into the pasture and looking up at Erasmus. Astra gave him an exasperated look, pained by how dreadfully obvious he was being. Erasmus stifled a grin and a chuckle, keeping a stoic look on his face as he continued to march in the direction he was being ushered in.

They began to let the horses out and they trotted them out to the pasture and allowed them to graze on the grass. As the day dragged on, Erasmus and Brinley spoke of the state of the manor grounds and how Astra was quintessential to their upkeep and survival. It seemed many of the people held her in very high esteem for carrying on as she did, looking after her father and the land as well as she had. They discussed other things as well and, by the time the day was done, the two men had a much better understanding of each other. Brinley sipped on his flask from time to time, offering some to Erasmus. Politely, he declined with a warm smile.

“Astra’s a really lovely woman. Been kind to us... So...You’re her husband?”

“Yes.”

“And...You’ve been gone for ten years?”

“Yes.”

“And you just let her be that way? Such a wonderful, compassionate lady...And for what? Couldn’t make it back from war sooner? Ended 3 years ago.”

“War takes a funny toll sometimes...I don’t know if you’re aware, but my ship was destroyed...And I nearly killed. I came as quickly as I could...Understand that, Brinley,” Erasmus tone was stern and guarded. To the trained ear, there was more to the story, but it wasn’t being told. The rest of the afternoon was filled with an uncomfortable silence and Erasmus lead one of the horses around to distract himself from his frustration.

Only when the darkness began to deepen and the last of the flames had fully settled into smoldering embers did they feel that enough had been done for the day and Erasmus, Brinley and Astra began to make their way to dinner. Erasmus found his way through the manor to where he could wash up quickly and make himself a little more presentable. Dinner was silent and uneventful, with Astra tending to a bedridden Ham and taking her meal along with his to his chambers. Brinley and Erasmus were still not speaking with each other, though there didn’t seem to be animosity or anger there. Just discomfort.

After dinner, Erasmus requested for a bath to be drawn for him so he could wash the dried blood from his skin and the dirt from whatever other places it may be stuck to. Helda obliged and began to draw him a bath while Lenore found a change of clothes for him to wear. They hadn’t much which would fit the large man and if he tore up too much of the clothing he’d end up wearing little better than what Astra went around in. Not that the notion bothered him at all. Once the bath was ready, Erasmus stepped into the steamy chamber and disrobed, climbing into the bath with an almighty groan as the fragranced and soapy water enveloped him.