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Chapter 3: The Guild

The light of the glow-day woke him up, and soon after Freja joined him. She glares at Hans, and Hans notices the book in her hands soon after. “I see you read my father's journal; it shows him before his slip into madness." He says somberly

“It shows torture and horrors. Nothing more human." Freja snarls leering at Hans.

“Did you read the words? It's a guide to surgery." Hans says once more confused.

“Surgery? What is that human?" She demands in a mix of curiosity and anger.

“One of many forms of medicine, removing things or fixing things on the inside. My father was the best at it before he was trapped in a fallen mine for a half-year. At least that's what mother says." Hans says.

“So, your father was not always a madman. Impossible." Freja states.

“No one ever starts off as a madman wolfess." Hans says a bit of anger in his tone.

“You said he was a hedon and had always been." Freja says, mounting her own anger.

“He was old before I was born, I never knew him before his hair grayed. Would you call one of your grey-snouts a blood-thirsty marauder from day one?" Hans raises.

“Do not compare the noble grey-snouts to your race, human." Freja snaps.

“I'll ask again. Did you read the text." Hans states once more.

“No, I can't read human." She says almost pridefully.

“Can you read at all wolfess?" Hans presses.

Freja would be red in the face if it were not for her fur as she was asked that question, rearing

a bit from it.

“Answer me Freja." Hans demands

“No. I cannot read." Freja says lowering her head.

“It is to be expected from nomads" Hans says in a matter-of-fact way.

“Is that some sort of insult human?" Freja snaps once more.

“No, simply an observation." Hans says plainly. “Either way I'm hungry and I'm going to get something to eat before I leave for the day, you are welcome to stay here if you please."

A moment of silence passes as Hans stumbles from the bed, resting himself on a wall. Freja weighs the offer in her head, on one hand food, on the other she has to spend time with the human. Her stomach chose for her.

“Fine, yes, food." Freja stammers the anger not fully having left her tone.

“Alright, follow me then" Hans says limping out the door.

“You need a walking stick human." Freja says disconcerting.

“Not a mage, so a cane will have to do."

“Cane? You humans are strange." Freja says offhandedly.

“I can have a sword in a cane." Hans says smiling.

“What?" Freja says unable to really understand what she just heard.

“Sword. In. Cane." Hans says hobbling along chuckling like an old kobold.

The pair traverse the winding halls until they come to a wider gap, leading to two doors. Hans pushes the one on the left open revealing another maroon room with those horrible blue accents. He shudders a little before entering as if recalling something painful. In the room there is an inordinate number of tables arranged in even rows. Each table is adorned with a blue cloth and glow-rock lantern. Hans gestures for her to sit anywhere she likes. She sits at one table and watches keenly as Hans goes to some sort of a counter and gets a tray with four things on it. He sets it down at the table, and Freja can finally get a good look at it, two rolls, and two bowls of mutton stew. Hans says “enjoy" before beginning to eat the meal in silence. Freja hesitantly takes a bite from the stew. The meat is a little tough and bread a tad stale, she looks over to Hans who has soaked the bread in the stew and seems to be eating just fine.

“Why did you soak the bread?" Asks Freja

Hans raises a finger, finishes chewing a mutton chunk and says, “We use the leftover bread from the last bake for breakfast."

“Why?" She ask curiously

“Waste not, want not is what my father would always say." Hans answers.

“By the way what is bread made from?" She asks with the same curiosity.

“Two kinds of flour, yeast, water, milk, and sometimes egg. Well at least the ones us Nords make, though if you really want to know go talk with the chef." Hans says, less confident than he'd like.

“Odd, us Vulfan make bread by taking grain, crushing it to powder, adding water, and the basis." Freja says,

“Basis?" Asks Hans

“Basis, it's very old and grows back, the elders keep it pots and have tended it forever seemingly." She answers.

“I am curious as to what your bread is like." Hans follows before taking a large spoonful of stew.

“It's a bit sour, lighter, and lighter than my fur." She says.

“Hmm, mother says if the bread isn't darker than dirt it's a dessert." Hans says half-joking.

“Odd" Freja says before taking a large spoonful of stew.

The two eat for a while longer before finishing. Hans returns the tray to the counter in silence. “Up" He says, before moving back towards the entrance as Freja scrambles to her feet. The door nearly closes before she makes it to it. “H-Hey Hans!" She calls out. Hans turns around in the hall to look at her, Freja then quickly walks up to Hans and says “You can go again.". Hans continues forward once more through the winding halls, initially a tad annoyed by Freja's antics but doesn't let it get to him.

Freja thinks about her dream from the night before, mainly that of her village being laid to waste. She knows that Hans slew the chief, in cold blood at that, or was it? Somehow the seed of doubt had been planted in her mind. As for Hans he is still resolved in his life as a traveller, but his idea of being a lonesome wander is also being questioned, maybe, just maybe, some company would be nice.

Hans leaves the cavern-home of his family. He limps down the street, Freja walks just behind him. Hans heads towards the bank where his coin is stored, the ancient building being

engraved with some of the finest work in the hold. Inside is a wooden interior matching any other building on the surface, the human trade-guild's banner hanging from the banker's banister. Hans approaches the teller, a girl younger than him with hair the color of sun bleached burlap and eyes that of emeralds.

“Ah, Mister Woeda! Mister Joakim would like to see you upstairs." Says the girl after looking up from her papers.

“Thanks" Is all Hans says before he feels a gloved hand on his right shoulder. He turns to face Mister Joakim, of whom he only knew as Otto. To his surprise Otto seems to have grown from his dwarf-like demeanor to that of a short-ish man.

“How long has it been, old friend!" Otto cheers with the deep cheery voice as always.

“Five years I believe, maybe six since I have last entered the keep." Hans says with an exaggerated look of concentration on his

face.

“Nooo. Really?" Otto says, almost confused.

“Yep, I left six winters ago to return to the steppe." Hans says

Otto nods accepting that time has gone by much faster than he'd like before saying “Where'd you go first."

“Fellsreach. The fallen hold." Hans answers ice in his tone.

“Come, we'll talk over some Arak and Vician wine." He says leading him and Freja upstairs.

The stairs are simple planks of wood placed in steel slots, they give ever so slightly under the weight of Hans and Freja, while Otto doesn't seem to bend them at all. His office is

as ornate as a king's throne room with gold ornaments and exotic artworks on every surface, and yet it all seems to blend together to some perfect unknowable balance.

Otto pours two cups of liquor from one bottle, and a wooden mug with some beer. He passes a bottle to Hans and the mug to Freja. “Vulfan, to my knowledge have a lower tolerance to alcohol than us humans do, so I hope you're fine with some Helvetburger beer instead."

“You are strange among your kin, human." Freja says

“I'm a merchant and banker Vulfan, I seek profit, I don't see much of a difference between clientele. You call Otto though." He says with a tad of swagger in his voice.

“Well Otto, I do have a question for you." Freja says with a degree of formality uncharacteristic of her usual self.

“Go ahead but Hans and I do need to discuss some matters." Ottos says while Hans sips his Arak.

“Has anything happened to the Buckhunter tribe?" She asks need deep in her voice.

“Hmm, let me check." Says Otto casually before digging through a cupboard full of paper filled boxes.

“You're a Buckhunter?" Asks Hans a little confused.

“Yes." Freja says.

In the waiting silence, Hans decides its best not to say that he slew their banner-bearer in the last battle. Freja, confused as to why Has would ask that brushes it off as just curiosity. The two wait in silence once more, the only interruptions being Otto's comments of “Oops, wrong box… Not Vulfan… where was it…." until finally he cheers “Ah here. Oh." Otto turns to Freja, a grim look on his face. “I don't have the heart to tell you what happened to them, but

you can read it here." He says as he passes her a pristine white piece of parchment.

“I can't read human, Otto." Freja says.

“Get Hans to do it, and it's Nordic not human." Otto corrects and suggests.

Hans looks over the paper, wincing at what it reads. “Freja… I'm so sorry."

“What does it say Hans?!" Demands Freja, her hair standing on end.

“The buckhunters are gone." Hans says, trying his best to put empathy in his tone.

“Are they dead?" Asks a now frantic Freja.

“Most of the males apparently" Hans says.

“What of the rest of them?" Demands Freja.

“Joined the Longtooth to form the Longtooth-Buckhunters." Hans says.

“How did this happen?" Says Freja sulking.

“It says your tribe took massive losses during the battle between our keep and the horde." Hans explains.

“And how did we decide on disbanding the tribe." Cries Freja.

“Apparently a Balder took up the mantle of leadership and was killed with most of the

remaining males when the Black Eye or Keeptaker tribe attacked, we don't really know." Hans explains.

“NO!... No… no... “ Is all Freja can say before tucking her head in arms and beginning to weep.

“Well Hans, I believe we have matters to discuss regarding your service." Otto says, trying his best to ignore the whimpering wolf despite his nature.

“Yes, what of it." Hans replies.

“Your pay." Otto says with a concerned look.

“Am I not being paid for my years?" Hans demands.

“Not at all, I meant to discuss with you something of concern." Otto explains, moving a new stack of papers onto the table.

“Well tell me Otto, what is the problem." Hans says.

“Your last year has what seems to be an extra zero behind it."Otto explains. “That's the issue. Did you collect any banners, or slay any foes of particular note?"

“Yes, during the last battle of my service I took three banner and slew a warchief." Hans explains.

“What banners? If I may ask." Otto requests.

“Let me write them down." Hans says.

Otto hands him a feather quill, ink jar, and a sheet of parchment. Hans writes three tribes on it, Firedancer, Western Halk, and lastly the Buckhunters. Once he slides the paper

back to Otto, he understands why Hans decided to write them out. Otto nods at Hans and stores the paper away in one of the boxes.

“Onto the next matter at hand, I remember you wanted to become a traveler, yes?" Otto asks

“Still do." Hans answers.

“Great, that's the reason I wanted to talk in my office." Otto says sighing with relief soon after.

“Calling this place an office is undermining its splendor, Otto." Hans says with a smile.

“Thank you. I have an offer for you that you may like as a traveler to be." say Otto

“Oh, what is it?" Hans inquires.

“The trade guild can offer a warrant of transfer, it'll cost a hundred silver, but it means you can seamlessly transfer currencies between nations with one of our guild-houses." Otto explains.

“Anything else?" Hans asks.

“Yes, means you have to become a guild member." Otto says.

“What does that entail?" Hans demands

“Not much, it just means you can't scam other members of the guild, abide by its minimum prices when in cities." Otto hands him a sheet of paper, “Here just read it over."

Hans looks over the paper, nothing would really affect him overall, and most seems to be a

benefit to him. “Yeah I guess I'll join." He decides.

“Wonderful, I had you pre-approved once I heard you were no longer in the service." Otto cheers.

“Why?" Hans asks.

“Because I knew you wanted to leave, and I figured I would repay an old debt." He answers.

“Ah." Exclaims Hans.

“Now, I need your payment for your warrant of transfer, and I'll get you in touch with a good carpenter I know." Otto beams.

“Alright, alright. Give me a moment." Hans says throwing his hands up.

“Please give me a moment. I'll have Beret bring up the paperwork and required funds.

With that Otto leaves his office and calls for Beret to bring up “Hans's package." He refills his and Han's glasses with another bottle and pours two shot glasses pushing them over to the still sobbing Freja. He stares at her for a moment, pity in his eyes before taking a sip from his new beverage. He sighs and says, “A fine vintage, I'll give a bottle to the prince later."

Hans takes a sip from the white liquid, the taste of grapes and honey being first to wash over him. The wine, somehow, tastes of a hot sun and ocean breeze, a faint saltiness in the aftertaste. It is smooth as silk and seems to entice you like a seductress in a room of vices.

“Say where was the wine made?" Asks Hans excitedly.

“Ah, yes, in the nation of Vici, a unique land, cities built in the sea with great floating vineyards, I traveled there to secure a deal between our Keep and the city of Kageoa. If you ever find yourself on the western coast, try to catch a ferry there." Otto says swirling the wine in his glass.

“I'll make sure to go there one day." Hans says before sipping the wine once more.

The two men sit in the room, listening to the quiet whimpering Freja unsure how to handle the situation regarding her. Hans feels pings of guilt in heart while Otto just seems to drink more and more. She finally looks up Hans, her eyes red and face-fur wet with tears. Hans gestures towards the liquor of which Freja quickly pounces on, downing her beer with forceful gulps and then staring confused at the shots.

“Human, what are those?" She says pain in her voice.

“A much harder liquor." Hans says with a furrowed brow.

“Well they're-" Han's silences Otto with a raised finger.

“No, no thanks Otto." She whimpers before hiding her face in her arms once more.

The two men continue to drink their wine in silence exchanging information with little more than nods and head shakes. Beret bursts open the door, and the smile quickly drains from her face once she sees Freja. She sets about ten pieces of paper in front of Otto before the two exchange some whispers. She kisses him on the cheek and silently leaves. Otto checks over the papers one by one, takes out a stamp, and stamps four in the bottom left. He turns the set of ten around and pushes them towards Hans. Hans reads over the contracts scrutinizing any detail that may come to hurt him overall.

Finding nothing of concern he signs his name on four of the papers and returns them to Otto. Freja's whimpering grows quieter soon after and moments later stops entirely. Otto then places the papers into a leather satchel and places it into a larger bag with a plate reading

“Delivery to transport mage". The silence is broken as Otto says, “The official business is

done, but I have a rather clear schedule today and I have quite frankly had not one good conversation in the past month."

Otto, Hans, and later Freja, begin to just talk, Hans catching up on politics, Otto learning what the army has actually been up to, and Freja learning just how large and dangerous the world beyond is, from Otto's tales of serpentine societies that war with men with black hair and tanned skin that ride horses. Of cities made in treetops and built on the sea itself, of women that wear dresses of colors of wildflowers. Otto and Hans also share stories from their childhood, of playing in the fields and hiding in unclaimed caverns or empty mines. Freja tells the two of her childhood, to Otto's entertainment and Hans' intrigue.

The trio becomes a quartet as Beret joins the trio sharing her stories. All seem to pay an exuberant amount of attention as Hans' tells his war stories about fighting with the Revan Legions, of the battles with the Avin republics and Felid Kingdoms, of flying men in golden armor brough to kneel by creative mages, and harems of lionesses turning on their husband with a well-placed stab. He tells them of the battle of Fellsreach, of the brutal fighting in the tunnels, how the ground was slick with blood.

Otto laughs during the tales of his adventures, and Freja tells the rest of her tales. Soon the four of them are a little tipsy and the meeting is over with a booming “farewell". Hans limps his way out of the bank with a slip of paper for a guild wagon-builder and a horse breeder. He works his way there occasionally leaning on Freja to support, but mainly on his own. The two businesses are placed right next to one another, the hearth of the guild unfurled over the entrance and carved into the stone around the hollowed space.

The wagon-maker seems to already know what Hans wants and has it drawn up, a simple cart with a solid cover for goods and a second level for sleeping. The carpenter promises to have it enchanted so it may never break so long as he lives free of charge. Hans pays the man a two hundred silver for the wagon and goes next door to the horse breeder.

The horse breeder is a bit more, pushy so to speak, offering war horses and riding horses, but finally relenting and showing him a pair of draft horses for a hundred-fifty silver each. Once again paying for the horses and the five silver stabling fee he and Freja begin to walk back to the Woeda cavern.

The next week passes rather uneventfully, Hans sleeping most of the day, only waking up to eat and walk to check up on the wagon. Two days before the carpenter is set to finish the Guard-Captain arrives at the cavern with a gift for Hans, the Kopis he used in his final battle. Apparently, the royal family rather disliked the weapon, and seeing it as best in the hands of someone who would give it good use in the name of the Keep and mankind at large, gave it to him under the pretense of “He did bear the banner to victory."

Freja hates when the kopis is out of its sheath, as she partially blames the weapon for her tribe's near destruction, but has grown comfortable around Hans, asking him questions about the book of surgery his father penned. She wishes to learn human, or Nordic as Otto called it, but she can't properly find the right time to ask Hans between his cat-like sleeping habits and generally silent demeanor. On the last day she finally pipes up.

“Hans!" Shouts Freja

“Yes Freja?" Hans answers.

“I want to learn to read." She states.

“Okaaaay?..." Hans replies confused on how to respond.

“You can teach me in your wagon, right?" She asks once more.

“I guess? Not like there's anything better to do most of the day." Hans says, still confused.

“Good, then I shall join you." Freja states before letting Han's normal silence resume.

As Hans hobbles into the wagon-maker's shop he sees the mage still enchanting the wagon, the blue and violet wisps of pure magic seem to dance across the wood and metal. The carpenter hands Hans a cane before exclaiming how painful it was to watch him hobble everywhere like a three-legged dog. Thanking the man profusely Hans turns to Freja“So what is it that you want to read?" Hans whispers

“What?" Freja exclaims.

“What. Do. You. Want. To. Read?" Hans clarifies.

“Not sure." Freja states once more.

“I guess I'll pick then..." Hans whispers.

Hans rests on his new cane, admiring the craftsmanship of the wagon, the way the brown leather cushions wrap around the driver's seat. The cover store of goods is fully sealed with two doors, one accessible by the driver and the other from the rear. The top level, which was supposed to be open, is about half-sealed by wood, the grey fabric tent seems to meld with the dark wood of the wagon.

Hans watches the mage finish going over the wagon with her spells, turns to Hans, waves, and walks out of the shop. The carpenter runs his hand along the wooden chassis of the cart and rests his head on it soon after. He turns to Hans.“Take care of her would ya?" He pleads.

“I wouldn't dream of hurting her." Hans assures.

“Good, good." The carpenter says before sitting down on a rocking chair.

Hans walks with his cane down towards the center of town, past the bakery, past the armor, and right to the general merchant. Inside the store are dried goods, jars of preserves, spices, and books. Hans winds up paying three hundred silvers for over a hundred pounds of food, alcohol, books, and hand tools. He wraps the pile in twine, and marches back towards the wagon-maker's shop.

Hans packs the wagon well, hanging the shovel, axe, and other tools on the exterior racks, putting the fire maker rod in its proper tube, and making sure all the food is packed

around blankets. The wagon-maker wakes up to see Hans packing the wagon.

“Leaving so soon?" He asks

“Yep" Hans answers, he calls over to Freja “Could you yolk the horses please?"

After all the prep is done Hans takes up the reins for the first time, Freja sitting beside him. Freja wonders what she'll see, Hans is hoping to spend the winter solstice in shorts, preferably on a beach. As Hans drives the wagon towards the good-lift, a spiral to the gate, Freja reaches into the wagon's hold and produces a book, it says “The sagas of humanity" but she doesn't know it. Hans turns to see the book. He smiles as he says, “Well I suppose that would fulfill an obligation I hold."“You're gonna start teaching me to read now?" Cheerfully asks Freja.

“By God no, that's the legends of all humans. It'll make a good start" Hans says smiling as Freja scowls at him.