Holin made his way back to where he and the rest of his companions had set up camp. In the distance, he could hear some ruckus happening in the main camp, but his thoughts were on other matters. Namely the black spots he had seen on his student.

Student. It felt strange to think of someone like that.

He didn’t know what the black spots were, but when he saw them, he was immediately reminded about how the young man had caught his interest in the first place. The moment he saw those small black marks, he heard his heartbeat rise. His focus had narrowed, and his hearing heightened, his muscles relaxing into that ‘calm before the storm’ state he was familiar with. A peculiarity from his Aspect.

As he walked, he went through all of the things he had seen or heard about that might match those marks. Bloodspores, irridas stings, corpserot poison, leadlung disease… nothing fit. The spots were either too small, too numerous, not numerous enough, the wrong colour, the wrong shape… the list went on.

He hoped Rhone had some ideas because he was just about out of possibilities. He needed to know what it was that his instincts were warning him about. Even so, a smile broke out on his face. Whenever his instincts flared, things tended to get a lot more interesting.

He reached their camp quickly enough. Rhone was there, along with Kali and Adler. Off to the side, Red was sitting on a fallen log, running a whetstone over the long blade of his bardiche.

“We should have stayed,” Kali was saying to Rhone. “We could have waited for the opportunity and taken out the behemoths, ended the horde right there.”

“I agree,” Adler said. “This running away from our targets makes me sick. As does the air here. It’s too warm and the days are too long.” – Red gave an amused snort at this, which Adler ignored. – “The sooner we finish our task here, the sooner we can get back to Stronghold.”

Rhone was silent for a moment. He was sitting on the ground, the small carving knife in his hand biting into a piece of wood. When he spoke, his voice was pensive. “There was a particular hunt, back when Jerrick first joined my team. We were in the Whitecloak mountains. A blizzard had started up, snow so deep that each step buried you to the knees. We had been tracking a navridan for days.

We found it, of course, high up in the mountains on an isolated plain of snow and ice, nestled between three peaks. The beast couldn’t have asked for better conditions to make its home. Its white carapace blended into the surroundings, and its many legs skittered across the snow, barely slowing.

We engaged it, ten against one, but the conditions weren’t in our favour, to say the least. It wounded three of our party before retreating, injured but still much faster than us. Holin here, wanted to pursue.”

The two younger hunters turned around and saw him standing there with his thumbs hooked into his belt. He gave them a wink.

“I was inclined to agree,” Rhone continued. “Every moment the beast was out there meant a moment it could attract more. Jerrick, however, even back then, had a knack for knowing when to strike and the patience to wait for that time. ‘What does it eat?’ He asked. We had been living off of dried meat ever since we entered the mountain tops. A thing like the navridan might be able to find enough there to survive in a cold spell but others?

So, a plan began to take shape. We went down to the mountain. A steep thing it was, only three paths that are easily traversable. Especially with the intermittent storms.

Jerrick was able to mix a poison from the ingredients he had and others we found at the foot of the range. A slow-acting thing, not much use in a fight, but deadly.

We split into three groups, each taking one of the paths. Every day we would hunt animals or kill one of the lesser beasts answering the pull. We’d poison their carcasses and leave them at the start of the passes. A snack for others.

More and more beasts came every day but never did a horde form. The beasts, having no food, had eaten the only things they could, each other. Not unusual, of course, but the poison helped keep their numbers from reaching the tipping point.

For two cycles, we stayed there. Two more teams arrived after the first. The surrounding cities were getting nervous, their hunters reporting a distinct lack of beast activity. The new teams joined up with us when they heard what was going on. At the end of the two cycles, the cold spell finally broke.

When we got up there, the beasts that were left were weakened. Some were barely more than skin and bones from starvation and poison. We spent a few days there, taking our time, slowly moving inwards. When we found the navridan, it wasn’t in much better shape. Once the undisputed master of the area, it had been reduced to an overgrown insect. Its lunges were slow. Its jumps had it stumbling to the ground. We killed it, along with everything else there.

The number of beasts we were responsible for ending during those two cycles was enough to form a horde under different circumstances. But we were patient and chose our battle, and three teams of hunters were able to slay hundreds of beasts.”

Rhone looked up at Kali and Adler. “We’ll get our chance. Fighting through the horde to get to the behemoths won’t work. But when the horde is done feasting on what’s left of that city, they’ll find the trail three thousand people left. They’ll come and, at Lok, we’ll be ready for them. We’ll kill the behemoths there in the battle. And, if the horde breaks before they die, we shouldn’t have trouble gathering a few more local teams to hunt them down, not after one city already fell.”

“In that case, I hope the horde breaks on the walls before they die,” Kali said after a while. “Seems only fitting for us to hunt them down.”

Red stood up from where he sharpened his weapon. He stretched, rolling his shoulders, and looked at them. “Well until then, I’m am going to enjoy these streams that seem to be more numerous here than sand in Anuneer. You should join me.”

“Weren’t you already there this morning?” Kali asked, to which Red merely shrugged.

She and Adler did decide to join the big man, though. Rhone stayed behind after Holin met his eyes.

“I don’t remember Jerrick ever raising the subject of a navridan’s eating habits,” Holin remarked once the others had left. “I remember him being fresh on that hunt. Almost got himself killed in that first engagement. In fact, I think you’re the one that told him to try using those alchemical skills of his.”

“Did I? Must be getting old,” Rhone said. “…So what did you want to talk about?”

Holin opened his mouth to speak before glancing off to the side, hearing footsteps approach.

“Meera is back,” He said as he recognised the steps a moment before she came into view. He immediately noticed the satisfied expression on her face. “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“The camp is in an uproar,” She said, before spotting the pot on the still-warm ashes of the previous night’s fire. “Is there any left?”

“Of course,” Holin said. “We saved some just for you.”

“Thank you, I’m sure it has nothing to do with no one wanting to clean out the pot.”

“Well, since you’re bringing it up, and you’re the last to eat…”

“What was that about the camp?” Rhone asked.

“Oh! A dozen of the citylord’s d’yari disappeared and, on an unrelated note, the refugees have found alleviation to their food crisis. They are at this moment busy cooking up twelve d’yar-sized animals.”

Rhone gave her a flat look. “They managed to steal them from the under those guards of the citylord?”

Meera shook her head, eyes glinting with merriment. “Apparently, the stablemaster of the citylord woke up right at dawn and decided to take the animals to the nearby stream for water and then for a short walk in the woods.”

Holin chuckled “Strange that the stablemaster would do such a thing.”

“It is, now that you mention it,” She said, placing a finger on her chin. “Even stranger that the other retainers claim he was sleeping with them in the wagons. I hear the citylord was very displeased that his knights allowed such theft.”

“What’s keeping them in check?” Rhone asked.

“The high priest. After the carcasses were discovered in the woods at the other side of camp, a hunter informed the high priest of the prize. Right now, the priests are handing out meat as it gets cooked, a blessing from the Magus, of course.”

“He’ll gain more support with this,” Rhone remarked.

“Was that a concern?” Holin asked.

“He has been reminding people of the true nature of our murderous order of heretics,” Meera said, rolling her eyes. She looked back at Rhone. “It will, but his focus will be on the nobles now, as their focus will be on him. Especially after his display yesterday. Plus, the situation was a step away from blood. Hell, if nothing happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if a mob attacked the nobles outright. They were certainly desperate enough for it.”

“Well if they’re cooking up d’yari, I guess we won’t be covering any more ground today,” Holin said.

“I guess not,” Meera said with her mouth full as she ate the last of the stew that had cooked during the night. For a few moments, the only sound was of her chewing.

“What is it you wanted to say before?” Rhone asked Holin.

“You know that kid, about eighteen, nineteen terms, that came to thank Adler a couple of days back?” – Rhone nodded – “Well, I started training him.”

“You what?” Shouted Meera, looking at him in disbelief before swallowing the food in her mouth. “You are training someone?”

“Why not? The kid shows promise with a sword.”

“I’m just surprised that you would spend your time helping someone.”

“That’s a bit unfair. I help people all the time.”

“How so?” She asked. She even managed to sound genuinely intrigued.

“By killing the things that would eat them if given a chance,” Holin said simply. “What is that if not being a helpful member of society?”

“Yes, but you’re not doing it for them.”

“The result is the same.”

Meera shook her head.

“So, as I was saying,” Holin said, turning back to Rhone. “The kid has these—”

“The kid?” Meera interrupted. “What’s his name?”

“…why?”

She looked at him with a victorious smirk on her face. “You don’t know it, do you?”

“Of course, I do.”

“What is it then?”

“Hansel.”

Holin kept his face straight and looked her in the eye as he answered.

Meera hummed in a way that managed to convey just how much she believed that. She kept her eyes on him as she leaned over to Rhone. “Twenty silver says he’s speaking through his ass.”

“Come now, we both know you hold it in high regard.”

Meera raised an eyebrow with a smile on her lips.

“You were talking about the young man?’ Rhone interrupted.

“I told you I felt something about him, right?” Holin said to Rhone.

The man nodded. “You thought he might have been a supplanter.”

“Yes, but that wasn’t it. I tried figuring out where the feeling was coming from but couldn’t find anything. Until today. He has these small black marks on him. They are tiny and don’t look like anything really, but I know there is something more to it. The kid doesn’t know anything though, assumes its some kind of insect sting or something.”

“Irridas stings—”

Holin shook his head as Rhone started to speak. “Smaller, much smaller.”

“Some disease?” Meera asked.

Holin shook his head again. “Seems healthy enough.”

Rhone offered up a few more suggestions, but none of them felt like the right answer to Holin.

“One of the mages in camp is a healer,” Meera said. “Why don’t you take him there. If it is something, the mage can cure him.”

“On whose side is this mage?” Rhone asked.

“Neither citylord’s nor the priests’. Seems to be an independent.”

Holin frowned. “That… might not be a bad idea.”

“Thank you, oh thank you!” Gase heard the woman at the front of the line say in a tearfully relieved voice. She clutched at the hand of the priest as he handed the piece of cooked d’yari to her.

“The Magus provides for all his people,” The priest said with a serene smile.

The woman took the hand of her daughter, quickly moving from the line and everyone shuffled a step forward.

When Gase had returned from his sparring with Holin, he had found the camp very different from how he left it. A long line had formed in which the majority of the people were standing, waiting their turn at something. And the Blackguard were roaming about like they were looking for an excuse to hand out a beating.

Gase had found and joined the others near the front of the line, where Enmon had explained what had happened. It seemed that, after what happened yesterday, the high priest had taken matters into his own hands.

A passing knight glared at them as he moved past, eyeing Gase and everyone else like they were shit on his boots. Enmon had wholly failed to keep the glee from his voice as he described the citylord’s rant at his men. Half the camp could hear it. Now the knights walked around, searching for whoever it was that caused this mess.

“Don’t you love seeing that look on their faces,” Enmon said with a smile as two more passed by.

“You’d want to keep a lid on that mouth of yours,” Aesmin warned. “They look ready for blood.”

Enmon scoffed. “You saw what happened earlier. They’ll not do anything here.”

“What happened?” Gase asked.

“That blackguard captain came to question the one that found the d’yari carcasses in the woods. Asking him real polite if he saw how they ended up there, on account of the high priest standing next to the man, no doubt. So, the man starts lamenting about how much he would like to help, but he just couldn’t be sure. He inherited bad eyesight from his ma. Or maybe it was his pa. He could never tell the two apart with his eyes.”

Enmon chuckled. “Funniest shit I’ve seen in some time. Especially since our man was clearly a hunter and had a bow on his back. You should have seen the knight’s expression. And the high priest just nodded along like every word of the man’s story made perfect sense. No, If the Blackguard try to start something here, they’ll get ripped apart.”

The line moved and Gase forward, looking at the front, past the priests handing out food. He could see the carcasses of the d’yari, in various states of dismemberment. Three of them reduced to little more than bloody skeletons lying in the morning sun. The skull of one particularly big one caught his eye, a thick bone mask that flared to the side with six holes in two rows, where eyes had once been. Nothing seemed wasted.

Next to the skeletons, nine more carcasses lay. A man and a woman cut and sliced at them with the skill and precision that made him think they must have been butchers. Others turned hunks of meat on green wood skewers next to the large open fires that roared in the clearing.

Periodically, one of the people turning the skewers would slice off strips from the outer portion of the hunks and hand it to the priests.

Looking over all of this was a mix of hunters and cityguard. They might not have been as well-armed and armoured as the knights, but there were a lot of them here. Gase had to agree with Enmon, between them and the hungry crowd of over two thousand people waiting in line, the knights wouldn’t stand a chance.

They slowly made their way to the front until, finally, it was their turn. Gase was handed a still hot cut of d’yar meat which he gave to Hadi before getting one himself. The piece was about half the size of his palm. And about as thick as well. The top side was cooked but the bottom was still slightly raw. But he couldn’t care less. He waited for Enmon and Aesmin, and they ate their shares as they made their way out of the crowded area.

“I think that might have been the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Aesmin commented.

Gase grunted as he licked his fingers. He didn’t think he could agree more with a statement.

“I want more,” Enmon said, proving him wrong. “What do you think they’re going to do with those bones? There is still some meat on them.”

“They’d use everything they could,” Gase said. As he said this, one of the ‘cooks’ took a rock to the skeletons of the d’yari and threw the bones into a large pot. Probably to cook off the pieces of flesh and get out the marrow. Enmon cursed as he saw this.

“At least we got good pieces,” Gase said and looked at the line of people still waiting. “I reckon the last of them will get whatever’s thrown together in the pots. Haven’t seen any of the organs used yet either.”

“Your teacher is here,” Enmon said.

“Hm?” Gase turned to him and then followed his eyes to see Holin striding towards them

“I still can’t believe you actually asked one of them to train you,” Aesmin said, eyeing the hunter warily. Enmon had told her of the arrangement Gase had made with Holin, if it could be called one.

Gase made his way over, meeting Holin halfway. When Hadi joined him, he made no attempt to stop the boy. He had been trying to get him to open up, but that still seemed like a lost cause. The only word he had spoken to Gase or anyone else was his name.

Holin gave the boy a glance, and Hadi took a step back.

“Don’t worry about him,” Gase said to the boy. “He looks meaner than he… nevermind.”

“Doesn’t anyone think highly of me?” Holin asked with mock hurt before turning and walking off. “Come on, I don’t have all day. Well, not for this at least.”

Gase quickened his step and fell in alongside him. He opened his mouth to ask where they were going when Holin suddenly laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Your friend has quite the imagination,” Holin said, gesturing back with his head. Gase turned around and saw Aesmin speaking to Enmon as they both stared after him.

“Where are we going?” Gase asked.

“Those marks of yours have been bothering me. Might be something, might be nothing. We are going to find out which.”

It took Gase a moment to realise Holin was talking about the black spots on his chest. “If you think it can be serious. How do we do that?”

“We are going to see a mage.”

Gase slowed. “A mage.”

“Yes, as luck would have it there is a mage specialising in healing in the camp.”

Gase slowed down more before coming to a stop. “And where is this mage exactly.”

Holin turned to look back at him. “Why are you scared of mages? Not a bad fear to have actually.”

“Just humour me,” Gase said.

Holin looked at him for a moment longer before turning and pointing out their destination. Some distance away, Gase could see a familiar caravan covered in runes. On the coach seat sat the female figure. The apprentice of the mage that pulled him into this body.

Gase scratched his head. “Yeah… no. That’s not going to work.”

“…And why is that?”

Gase hesitated for a moment. “I’ve had… dealings with that mage before.”

Holin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had ‘dealings’?”

“Yes. It did work out as planned.”

“You stole from him, and now he’ll kill you on sight?”

Gase looked at the man. “What? No.”

“Great! Let’s go.”

A groan escaped his lips. How could he explain this without revealing anything he shouldn’t?

“Look at it like this,” Holin said, seeing he wasn’t moving. “My instincts are telling me that something is wrong with those markings. Leave it, and you might be fine, but I’d put more coin on you dying.”

Gase saw Hadi look at him with wide eyes while he stared at Holin in disbelief. He felt fine, and now the man said he could die because of a few tiny spots?

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Do I look like I am lying?” Holin said, his tone carrying an uncharacteristic seriousness. Gase felt a sudden shiver running down his back. Was he serious? He couldn’t be, right? It was just some insect or something.

“You are still hesitating, aren’t you?” Holin asked, his red gaze boring into him. “Well. This is becoming more and more interesting. What exactly happened between you and the mage?”

Gase hesitated. His first thought was to tell him what he had told Enmon. But that wouldn’t be reason enough to stay away from the mage if Holin thought his life was in danger. He could make up something. But he had no confidence in coming up without something believable on the spot, the hunter was sharp.

“I… can’t tell you,” Gase said, wincing at how childish that sounded.

“I’ll make it simple,” Said Holin after a while. “I did you a favour, training you. I did so because I thought you might be interesting. Now is the time to prove it. Either that or you can figure out your own problems. Both whatever those marks might be and how to wield a sword. Choose.”

Gase’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. A part of him was angry at Holin for saying that. Another part knew that the man owed him nothing, quite the opposite, as he had said. He looked down at Hadi, who was looking at him. Gase thought he might have seen a flicker of worry in those dark eyes. Would it be so bad to tell the hunter his story?

He could walk away now. The memory of the horde flashed through his mind. Of that feeling of helplessness as the khatri attacked them. Then he thought of the woman and girl from his past, wondering how far he could get on his own. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

“Fine, but not here,” Gase said, looking at the people near them who were casting glances at Holin when they thought the beastblighted hunter wouldn’t notice.

A while later, they were sitting in the clearing where they had trained that morning. Holin was looking at him with a contemplative expression. It had gone from inquisitiveness to disbelief before finally settling into its current incarnation.

“So you lived a past life… that you can’t remember?”

Gase nodded before shaking his head. “I remember pieces. At first, there was nothing but every now and then, something will come back to me.”

“And you woke up in this body. Which isn’t yours?”

“Yes.”

“And its original owner is dead?”

“He died to be resurrected, yes.”

Gase glanced at Hadi, who had been quiet throughout. He wondered what went on in the boy’s head. He had first thought about leaving Hadi with the others but decided against it. The boy had already heard enough to at least raise questions. He also hadn’t known Gase or Y’rid before a few days ago so, to him, it probably wouldn’t matter much.

Honestly, it felt good to finally talk about it. To speak of the events out loud and lay them before himself. Gase turned to Holin, waiting for the man to speak.

Holin dragged a hand through his black curls. “Either you’re one of the maddest people I’ve met or… Fucking hell. I knew something was off when I first saw you, but this.” – His mouth stretched into a grin – “This beats anything I thought up.”

“You’re… happy?”

“Oh yes. I told you I decided to train you because I thought you might be interesting. Well, you certainly delivered,” Holin said before springing to his feet. “Let’s go see that mage.”

“What?”

“The mage,” Holin repeated, the excitement evident in his voice. “I want to see what he can add to this.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“You don’t want to see him because you worry what he might do if he realises his spell failed, yes?”

Gase nodded slowly.

“No need to worry there. I can tell you right now that the mage never gave a rat’s ass about whoever this body belonged to. As for the spell, in all likelihood, he’ll want to figure out exactly where what went wrong. This generally means not harming his only clue. And also, and most importantly, I’ll be there. Come, come.”

After a bit more prodding Gase and Holin were once again off to see the mage, though this time Gase felt a bit of hope settle in him. If anyone could help him get his memories back, then who better than the mage that caused the loss in the first place. He was still nervous to deal with the mage, but knowing that Holin was going to be there helped.

The man might not seem like the most reliable, but he was the best fighter Gase had seen. And the hunter was on his side… he was mostly certain of it.

“What’s your name by the way?” Holin asked.

Gase almost stumbled a step. Didn’t he ever tell the man his name? He just sort of assumed Holin would know it, which seemed stupid now that he thought about it.

“The others you saw, know me as Y’rid, the man this body belonged to. But my name is Gase.”

Gase felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. It was the first time he told someone his name. It felt right.

“Hansel is a good name,” Holin said with a nod. “If you ever introduce yourself to one of my companions, you should use that.”