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It has been a week since the Raider attack on the city.

Fidel walked along the roads, keeping an eye out for bandits or feral predators to come bursting out of the wilderness. His hammer was slung over his shell, the best place for it since he doesn't have to always carry it around.

The trees hugged the road, so that was the reason why the paladin was vigilant.

He never knew what was about to happen.

A wolf, not a feral one, stumbled out of the woods in front of the paladin. He wore Raider armour, but it could've been stolen. Even from the distance separating them, Fidel could see blood dripping from a wound in the wolf's stomach.

He wasn't concerned about the wolf. That was, until he collapsed from exhaustion.

Even as part-warrior, Fidel had an obligation to help, due to his part-cleric nature. And so, he ran over and knelt down beside the unconscious anthro. The wolf had a heavy scar over his right eye, a line where no fur was growing, and was bleeding from the stomach, meaning that something had punctured through the armour. He took his talisman off his belt and kept it hovered over the wound.

"Heed my faith. Heal the one in front of me." Fidel muttered.

The talisman did as it was commanded. It began to glow with a soft white light and healed the wound, pushing the now apparent arrowhead out of the wolf's gut.

Fidel analysed the arrowhead, familiar with the unique shape.

That of the nearby bandit group.

Fidel growled underneath his helmet. Whoever this wolf was, it was wrong to anger this bandit group.

He heard a groan from underneath, making Fidel snap his head back to the wolf. The wolf opened his eyes, making Fidel gasp from underneath his helmet.

Heterochromia.

The wolf snapped into alertness and shuffled backwards.

"What do you want with me?" He asked, frantic on the situation.

Fidel recognised the wolf's accent as Raider-tongue. He unclipped his mace from his belt, aiming to kill the Raider in front of him. The wolf shuffled back more, splaying out a paw in hopes that the paladin would stop.

"Were you attacking the nearby bandit camp?" Fidel asked, keeping the mace hanging low.

"I was stealing from them, but not attacking." The Raider wolf answered.

"What were you trying to steal?"

"Food, that's all."

"Then you aren't a good thief, if you got shot with one of their arrows."

"I'm a Raider. I attack and take, not sneak and steal."

Fidel reclipped his mace to his belt and hauled the Raider wolf up to his feet. The paladin raised a finger.

"Because of your actions, the bandit group will think that you were aiding the nearby village. As a result, they will attack that village on false accusations. You and me are going to go over there and help them fend the bandits off tonight, you hear me?"

The Raider nodded, a fearful look in his eyes.

"If you try to run, or try to kill me, you are dead. You hear me now?"

The Raider nodded again, his eyes even more fearful than before.

Fidel began to march towards the now vulnerable village, the Raider wolf half-walking half-running to keep up with the tortoise. At a fork in the road, they took the one on the right. Ten minutes of walking later, they saw the village perched upon a cliff overlooking a nearby lake.

Fidel heard the wolf gasp at the scene. The paladin looked at the Raider, seeing his muzzle open and his eyes wide.

"Never seen anything like this before, Raider?" Fidel asked.

The wolf shook his head.

"None of the Jarl cities could match this. Also, any towns in Sofreze are in an almost frozen wasteland, so it's not surprising that I find this breath-taking." The wolf spelled out quite nicely.

Fidel nodded. "Yes, Whitcliff is wonderful from a distance. I always find that it takes my breath away every time like the first time."

The wolf grunted, his blue and brown eyes narrowing in concentration. Fidel looked back towards Whitcliff, doing the same thing as the wolf underneath his helmet.

When they got into the village proper, the guards available all drew their weapons and encircled the wolf. The wolf, although a Raider, never drew the spear off his back or the axe from his belt.

"Looks like the paladin has brought a Raider in." The entirety heard.

Fidel turned towards the source of the voice. It was a female owl, an arquebus slung over her back, and judging by the embroidery on her right wing, the rank of Guard-Lieutenant.

"And a good day to you too, Reinhelda." Fidel said.

Reinhelda strutted down the small dirt track of the village and ordered her men to take the Raider wolf to the makeshift dungeons they had. When the Raider was gone and the guards returning to duty, Reinhelda almost dragged Fidel to the local tavern. Once there, Reinhelda ordered a bottle of ale for herself and both sat at a table, both leaning their weapons against the table.

"Why are you here, Fidel?" She asked, pulling the cork off with her beak and taking a swig from the bottle.

"That Raider you just locked up, Reinhelda." Fidel answered.

Reinhelda set the bottle down, exhaling. "We just locked him up, Fid. No need to stay here now, he's out of the way."

"Not for that reason, Reinhelda."

"Why? What'd that mutt do?" The owl burped after the question, covering her beak slightly with her wing.

"Tried to steal from the local bandit group. Told him on his life to help us fend them off."

Reinhelda's face hold one of thought, of hesitation. She took another swig from the ale, still thinking.

"Do you think that the bandits would even try to come down here? Even they know we've no love for Raiders."

"And you know words that have no basis on evidence hold no truths. You may say you hold no love for Raiders, but they may not take you on your word. So they would think that you sent him, although you may say you didn't. And when they find him in the dungeons, yes, they would leave. But as soon as he gets free, they will not waste any time to come down here and burn Whitcliff to the ground and stomp on the remains." Fidel explained.

Reinhelda tapped the bottle in more thought.

"If what you say is true, Fidel, then there may be a choice. Hand him over to the bandits, or to allow him to fight with us against the bandits."

"He most likely would have no love for bandits. He may be a Raider, but they are more civilised than bandits."

"But that still doesn't concern the bandits."

"They would have no love for him, either. They would most likely skin him alive for a pelt then kill him."

Reinhelda drunk from the bottle, savouring the burn in her throat. She had to admit something. Fidel seems awfully aware of what the bandit group will do.

She slammed the three-quarter empty bottle down upon the table. "We are going to see our Raider 'friend', Fid. No objections." She ordered, slinging her arquebus over her back.

Fidel chuckled underneath his helmet. Even he's surprised he hasn't taken it off yet.

"Let's do it, then." He said, standing and picking his hammer up.

Both left the tavern and towards the guard barracks. When they entered, the guards there all saluted to the Guard-Lieutenant before returning to whatever they were doing before. It wasn't large, but it did the job for a small town.

They walked through to the back, behind a locked door. The jail-room, where six cells stood, nothing more than a tall rectangle. In the furtherest one, the one where Reinhelda once saw twelve spiders inhabit simultaneously, was the wolf Raider.

He just sat there, toying with the amulet around his neck. His spear, shield, axe and ivory war horn were taken away and locked somewhere. He looked downcast, he didn't even look up to see them.

Both paladin and guard came to the locked up Raider, but he never looked up.

"Where is your brother-band?" Fidel asked, making the Raider visibly cringe.

"They're..... They're..... They're dead." The wolf answered, taking his time to stay calm and not cry.

It seemed that he wanted to make sure that the belief that Raiders were unable to feel certain emotions was the truth. But even Reinhelda saw through it, she could tell that the Raider was deeply scarred emotionally through the death of his brother-band.

"What happened to them?" The owl asked, her voiced laced to the brim with pure sympathy.

The wolf immediately gave in to anger. He stood, growling, and slammed his fist against the solid bars of the cage he was in.

"One of our own was an insider for a rival 'band. He led them there, killed the rest and burnt down my home, my ancestors' legacy. He only left me alive for what must be his brand of torture. He will die for what he has done to my 'band, and he shall feel all of the pain that he has inflicted upon me and those he killed." The Raider explained, his voice as calm as he could despite growling.

"Your name?" Fidel asked.

"Trygrr. Why? And yours?"

"Fidel. And if you want any help, Trygrr, all you need to do is ask."

"Reinhelda, Guard-Lieutenant of Whitcliff."

"A pleasure of both. And is there any terms that I have to abide by to receive your help, Fidel?"

"Only that to help my finish my pilgrimage."

"Then I accept those conditions."

"Then are you ready to kill some bandits, Trygrr?" Reinhelda asked, smirking.

Trygrr smiled back. "Let us go and do so."

_____________________________________________________________

That night:

It was quiet.

The guards of Whitcliff ordered everyone to hide in the cellar of the tavern, while the guards all held up lanterns to illuminate the dark surroundings that the bandits would attack from. Reinhelda knelt on one of the roofs of the houses, her arquebus off of her back and primed to fire. Trygrr stood, holding his ivory war horn in one of his paws. Fidel stood beside him, praying, and the wolf didn't know why.

"What are you praying for?"

"That we will win this battle."

"Don't you have faith in the guards?"

"I have enough. But I put more faith in higher powers."

"Faith in higher powers is good and all, but loyalty to one's comrades wins wars and battles."

"That is where we disagree."

They heard a group of footsteps coming down the road. All of the guards stopped walking and silence reigned within the town perimeter. Trygrr took a breath and blew hard into his war horn, the deep sound echoing through the night. When he was out of breath, he slowly let go of the horn and allowed it to hang on the cord once more.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, the bandits charged, weapons brandished in horrible states of disrepair.

To kill single bandits was easy for the protectors, but the sheer numbers that came through was too much.

Hours passed. Countless skulls were bashed in, bullets fired, arrows loosed, throats stabbed and a copious volume of blood spilt onto the dirt, but the bandits retreated, a mere fraction of what they came in with.

Fidel pointed to Trygrr, the Raider heaving breaths to reduce his adrenaline rush.

"You're coming with me." Fidel ordered.

"What for?" Trygrr questioned.

"To get rid of these bandits once and for all." Fidel answered.

Both paladin and Raider placed their weapons away and stalked into the darkness, a lantern the only thing to light their path.

_____________________________________________________________

Together, they killed the sentries of the bandit group first then stormed the camp.

Left and right, clueless bandits of different species were killed, facing the wrath of justice either way. When they came upon the leader, she put up a good fight, but was triumphed over in the end.

The two went back, Trygrr unceremoniously dragging the dead bandit leader back to Whitcliff by one of her feet. When they entered the boundaries of the town, Trygrr stopped dragging the body and let go of the foot.

But a few words still rung in his head.

'Trygrr, you fight differently than from the other Raiders I've seen.'

Those were Fidel's words. And speaking of the paladin tortoise, he removed his helmet, allowing the Raider to finally see his face. Unscarred and pristine, worthy of any woman's hand. Unconsciously, his paw hovered over his scar, and his memory flashed over to the time he left Sofreze.

Ástridr dying, Løgner's smug muzzle, him dragging her corpse away, seeing the longhouse up in flames. But then he suddenly remembered one thing.

He didn't bury her.

The rest would've been buried under the remains of the longhouse, but not Ástridr. Heck, he didn't know if her weapon was outside the longhouse, so he couldn't bury her without it.

Tears blurred his vision, but he shook them away and became resolved and hardened once more.

When he gets the chance, he will bury her in a marked grave, along with the others in their joined grave. They deserve much more than a pile of rubble and the open air as their graves.

_____________________________________________________________

Somewhere else:

Isamu saw the town lit up by their paper lanterns. Still on the run in his own land. The night air lashed its claws onto his left shoulder. He wanted to pull the haori over his shoulder, wanting to keep it just ever so warmer, but tradition dictated that he had to keep it free.

Everyone else was inside their homes, therefore either unwilling or unable to look at the r?nin that has stepped close to their town.

Isamu kept on walking through, unwanting to deviate from his course. The inn here was the make of the land of Kespian, which was to the west of this land, Uslijan. Solid wall, roof and glass windows. The samurai thought that this inn, one of the make of Uslijan's long term enemy, would've been taken down or burnt to the ground. But that was not the case.

Isamu, needing a place to sleep, opened the wooden door and walked right in. The heat from the fire warmed him and scraping off the cold wind's claws. The door swung closed behind him while Isamu looked around the main room of the inn, more in line with this land than the one the building was modelled after. Others were relaxing around the tables spread at the edges, drinking sake. But Isamu noticed something else.

It was on the bounty board, something that those with less honour than him, the bounty hunters, would look at for work. Amongst the refuse of bandit leaders, petty criminals and marked ferals, was himself at the front. Isamu walked over to the board and looked carefully at his poster.

"Wanted for betrayal of the highest order, killing citizens of no accord and being a menace. Being him in alive for a large payment." He mouthed.

He began to chuckle. Of course the soldiers had to get here before him to post this up. Of course Lord Ichotsuke placed out a poster for his head to bring him in to brainwash him.

Isamu stepped away from the board and went up to the bartender, a black rhino (and no, I'm not being racist). He placed his nodachi against the counter and fished around for his coins, however meagre they were.

"A room for the night, if you please." Isamu proposed, placing a few of his already-few coins onto the counter-top.

The rhino counted the coins by sight, pleased by the number. He pulled the coins off and replaced them with a key with one swipe of his hand.

"Up the stairs, third one on left." He replied.

Isamu took the key, bowed at the waist and took his nodachi before ascending the stairs. He found the door to his room, unlocked it and entered, locking the room behind him. Satisfied, he laid the nodachi into the back left corner of the room and laid onto the bed, not taking his wakizashi or his tant? off.

He didn't feel safe here.