Someone shouted his name, pulling him out of his reverie. He turned just as Karol reached him. Karl felt a wave of relief at seeing him. His old friend’s hauberk was rent at the shoulder and he was bleeding from a nasty cut on his cheek, but he was alive and that was enough for the merchant.

“Karl!” He screamed. “Are you alright?”

“Safe and sound like a lady of Nurnberg.” He grimaced. The joke didn’t sound as humorous as he had imagined it.

Karol’s expression seemed about to soften at hearing his old friend’s humor, but then he noticed the red staining his side and his eyes widened in alarm.

“Fuck! You’re wounded!”

Karl held him away with a large hand. “No shit, man. And i am going to be dead if we don’t get back into the fight.” Wounded or not, he was going to bleed to death before letting those thieves get away with assaulting his caravan and killing his men.

Karol was having none of that. “Fuck off, moron. You could fill a bucket with all that blood. Come on, let’s get you out of here before you go down like a butchered pig.”

The simple notion outraged Karl. Getting out? Like, as running away? And leave the cargo to the brigands? Abandon his comrades? Never!

He fumbled for his axe. To hell with escaping, he was ready to do some ass-kicking instead.

“Nonsense!” He growled. He needed a couple of attempts to get it right, but his hand could wield his axe just fine. “I am fine as rain and…”

The moment he tried to get off the wagon and back on his feet the world decided to take a wild spin. Karl heavily collapsed against the wagon, the only thing saving him from just going down the arm he had thrown over the carriage’s side. He felt lightheaded, weakness dancing over every particle of his body. Alright, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t exactly safe as he thought; and now that he looked at it, that was a lot of blood alright.

Blinking, he found Karol looking at him with concern.

“The fuck are you looking at, asshole?” He barked. “Help me out before i die, come on!”

The guard looked surprised for a moment, but then he frowned with only the barest hint of amusement. Shaking his head, he reached to help him.

Karl gave him his arm, that the guard threw around his shoulders. He grimaced when he tried to walk and had to lean heavily against Karol for support, but managed to muffle the grunts pressing at his throat. The feat lit a spark of satisfaction in his chest. A true son of the Seven didn’t show pain. Beside him, he heard Karol mumble something. He was surely bitching about him being imprudent and whatnot. Ah, like he needed another Mildred! He hadn’t married a woman to be ready to listen to two, goddammit! Ah, that was a good one. He’d need to tell Karol. That ought to shut him up. But later, later…

Karol laid Karl on the grass with a grunt. He was heavy, the fat bastard.

“Come on!” The merchant barked between clenched teeth. He was pale, his face covered in sweat, but his eyes kept flickering toward the battle still raging close by. Somehow, he had managed to retain his grip on the axe.

Despite the rush of anxiety, Karol couldn’t but smirk a bit. Stubborn moron.

The smirk died on his lips the moment he raised his friend’s bloodied tunic. Like everybody in the caravan, Karol had been a soldier before making the turn for merchant guard. As such, he had seen his share of wounds, enough to quickly realize that what he was watching was a nasty piece of work. The spear thrust had punched through the chainmail Karl wore and the gambeson underneath, reaching the flesh. The shredded rings of the armor had been pushed inside and, probably pushed by another strong blow, had enlarged the wound. Through the shredded, bloodied mess, Karol could see a glimpse of bone.

He met Karl’s widened gaze, finding in it what he already knew. As soldiers, they had some basic medical training, but that wound…

Karol wetted his lip. “Alright…”

Ripping a part of the bloodied tunic, he bunched it up into a small roll and pressed it against the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. Karl hissed but otherwise said nothing. His fingers opened and closed around the axe’s handle.

“Get me Heinrich! Quick!” Karol barked. Their medic could have done something about it.

Karl noticed for the first time the men standing guard over them. The two exchanged a quick look, then nodded stiffly and rushed away.

Already ignoring them, Karol turned back to Karl. To his alarm, he found his eyes fluttering. He slapped him.

“Stay awake!” He barked.

Karl winced, and then again in pain...

“I wasn’t sleeping, moron!” He hissed through clenched teeth. “I was only resting my eyes for a moment.”

“Yeah, sure.” Karol’s tense attention was all on trying to staunch the bleeding. Goddammit, there was so much blood. His fingers were coated in it.

“Don’t give me that face.” Karl grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “This scratch isn’t going to kill me. It hasn’t even been ten minutes that i got it.”

This time, his friend’s gruff humor didn’t manage to snatch a grin from Karol. If anything, he was angry. In his battle lust, the fool must haven’t noticed the gravity of his wound until another blow rained down to make it like that.

“Shut up.” He hissed, pressing harder. Being so ragged, the wound was difficult to stem.

Karl rumbled a chuckle, all his frame shaking slightly.

“Goddammit, Karl!”

“Sorry, sorry…”

The duo remained there for a time that seemed eternal. Karol had eyes only for bloodied rag he kept pressing with both hands, and for the blood that kept bubbling around it and over his fingers despite all his efforts. Karl watched the sky, the only signal betraying something of what went inside of him the feverish way with which he grasped his axe.

Karol felt anguish mix to an ever-increasing rage. Where the hell had those two idiots went? Heirinch couldn’t be very far, could he? Maybe the doctor had already fallen? Or maybe they had been assaulted and were unable to return? Those guys that had jumped out to help them, he couldn’t be sure that they were on their side. Maybe, after killing the bandits they would turn upon them. Maybe the sounds of battle he heard were his comrades trying to defend against those monstrous knights. Maybe a bunch of roaring freaks would jump out of the bushes at any second, setting upon him and Karl…

“Hey, Karol.” Karl’s murmur shook him out of his bleak thoughts.

With a surge of concern, Karol leaned upon his friend. Gods, how pale had he become!

“How’s the fight going?” The merchant asked quietly. If you didn’t look at the wound and just at the calm smirk on his face, one could almost fool himself with thinking he was just resting, enjoying the touch of the grass and the cool shade of the trees.

Karol shook his head in awed disbelief. Even now, this fool thought about that…

Still, he too was wildly curious about that, if only to understand if help or doom was coming. Turning to peer above his shoulder, he looked. Between the trees, he could make out the carriages and a bunch of men embroiled into confused combat around them. He recognized the familiar armors of the caravan guards on some but the rest wore unfamiliar attires that could belong both to the bandits and the unknown latecomers. Whatever it was, he couldn’t get a clear picture of who was winning and who was losing. The treeline was in the way, hampering his vision.

“We are kicking their asses.” He lied.

Karl’s grin twitched at the corners. “Good, good.” The relish on his voice was just what Karol had come to expect from him. Merchant or not, he had remained as bloodthirsty and vindicative as the old days.

“When we get back home,” he murmured. “You and the boys are all getting double pay.”

Karol passed his tongue over dry lips. Gods, that damned blood wouldn’t stop coming out.

“About time,” he replied, the bluster coming out fake. “You’ve always been squeezing us like lemons. I was just thinking about getting another work.”

“Like if anyone would ever hire you, you lazy mutt.”

Karl paused, eyes fluttering close. Karol was just about going to shake him, when the merchant suddenly started talking again.

“It had been a good idea, though, this merchant thing. Well, this little problem aside.” He chuckled, a throaty, graveling sound. He stood silent for a moment. “We’ve been fighting a lot, us of the Seven, aren’t we? While the demon-speakers went crazy with their trinkets and their foul enchantments… they looked down on us, said that we were savages. Well, it looks like they got it wrong. We‘re still here, and they‘re not.” He tensed for a moment, his smirk disappearing as his wound acted up. When he resumed talking, his voice had got even lower. “We knew the true weight of honor. Still do. But… we’re changing, aren’t we? In the old times, nobody would think about leading a caravan to the foreigners. Now it’s all the rage. That’s why i tried it. It seemed a good idea at the time. A life slogging in the mud and blood for one making money in exchange for some walking. It seemed a good exchange…”

His eyes fluttered close. Karol shook him.

“It still is, old friend,” he said urgently, trying to keep him awake. “We made more money with a journey than with ten Seasons.”

Karl blinked, then pointed bleary eyes upon the guard. Karol felt his gut clench at seeing how pale he had become.

“Did we?” The merchant murmured. “Yeah, we did. In the face of those bastards back in Schwarz that laughed at us. Can’t blame them completely, though. Back in the old days, nobody would do this. The Seven don’t need no Westerners’ trinkets, that’s what my papa always said.” A tired smirk tugged at his lips. “Times have changed, i guess. In the face of those demon-speakers that said that we weren’t good at anything but to club each other’s brains out. Not that is bad, mind you. The battlefield is the Gods’ temple, and you aren’t a true man if you cannot use a sword, but… we too, you know? If we put our mind to it, we can do it too, like…” The man struggled to make his thought understandable, but the words seemed to be evading him.

“Ah, i am babbling.” Karl tried to raise a hand, to gesture like he always did. He only managed to lift it a couple of inches before his strength left him. He shrugged.

“I only wish that the boys hadn’t to go down in a place like this. I saw them take poor Ado. Poor man. They knew this could happen, they were prepared, but it sucks, it sucks so bad. When we get back home, i am gonna send recompense to their families. It won’t give them back to them but at least, it will… it will….” He trailed off, slumping down. His eyes closed. His fingers slackened, letting the axe fall.

Karol jumped in alarm. “Karl!” He slapped him, but the merchant was unresponsive. “Karl! Come on, old boy! Don’t close your eyes! Come on!”

He slapped him again, hard enough to hurt his hand, but the results didn’t change.

“Fuck!”

He was just about to slap him again, when a shadow fell upon him.

“Finally! You lazy sons of bitch…!” The budding rush of relief died the moment he raised his head.

It wasn’t his men.

The wolf had to be the size of a pony. Black-furred, it stood upon muscled legs ending in shovel-wide paws with claws the size of knives. His beady little eyes flickered with ominous light as he watched him, ears pinned against his head. Spittle fell from bared teeth each as long as a human hand. A throaty growl filled the air.

Karol froze. A… Dire Wolf? What was a dire wolf doing there?

The man was a warrior, born and bred with weapons in hand. Normally, he wouldn’t have hesitated to fight even before such a fearsome beast. But now, with his life-long friend slipping before him, crushed by anxiety and anguish, and now this; his mind went blank. Like the prey that stands before the predator and knows that there isn’t no way out but death, he just stood there, hands still stubbornly holding the bloodied rag, eyes wide as saucers pointed upon the beast that stood only a couple of meters away.

Vaguely, he thought that, despite everything, the wolf was a marvelous beast. Who knew where had it come from? From deeper in the forest maybe? And, was he imagining things or he could hear howl and snarls coming from where the battle used to be?

The Dire pounced.

There was broken bones and slashed flash, droplets of brilliant red painting the air.

But it wasn’t human.

Karol watched dazedly the wolf smash to the ground, an axe embedded into his flank. Furiously scrabbling the dirt, he fought to get back on his feet. But he wasn’t fast enough.

A group of warriors in unmarked armors emerged from the trees, crying out as they charged the beast.

Despite wounded, the wolf still put up a fierce resistance. Snarling and howling, he shook off the warriors assaulting him, hitting them with violent swipes of his large paws or trying to bite. But the warriors renewed their assault continuously, working together to keep the beast at bay.

Karol found his attention drawn toward one of them in particular.

Masked like his comrades, this one hadn’t charged like them. Instead, he had advanced calmly toward the wolf, only to walk with the same silent calm to the border of the fight, a long blade held at the ready.

Be it the instinct of a beast, be it some other less mundane reasons, the wolf seemed to have his attention upon the strange warrior as well.

Bloodied and battered by numerous cuts, the animal exploded in a sudden burst of frenzy. He slammed away those barring his path and barreled toward the silent warrior.

If he was scared by the sudden assault, the masked one didn’t show it. Calmly, he raised his weapon and waited. A ruckus of maddened ferocity, the wolf pounced. Karol found himself letting out a harsh breath.

The masked warrior smoothly stepped aside. His sword cut the air with a single, firm swipe.

The dire wolf slammed into the ground, skidding to a stop five meters away. He squirmed once, paws trying to gain purchase, then stood still.

Dazed, Karol watched as the other men ran toward the masked warrior. Words were exchanged, followed by a single, sharp reply. A couple of men ran toward the downed wolf, probably to make sure that he was effectively dead.

Then the masked man turned to him.

Karol blinked. With that mask on - Gods, was that the Faceless? -, he couldn’t be truly sure where the man was looking. Still, he felt his gaze settle upon him, like a hand had taken hold of his neck. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.

He was brusquely brought back to reality when hands grasped his arms. Before he could muster so much as a resistance, he was being hauled at his feet.

“W-wait!” He stammered. Two of the same unknown warriors had grabbed him, and were dragging him away. His gaze turned to Karl, still lying in the dust, silent and unresponsive. “My friend is dying! I cannot leave him!”

He struggled, but the rush of emotions had left him drained and the two men didn’t even acknowledge him.

In despair, he threw a glance toward his fallen friend. The last he saw of him, before the trees hid him from his sight, was that he was being approached by the masked man, with a small throng of scampering followers at his heels.

Karl!

Without a word, the unknown men had led him back toward the caravans. They weren’t overly rough, but not delicate either. Too drained to oppose resistance, Karol just keep his feet moving.

Thankfully, the battle was already over, with the latecomers having emerged as the victors. Silent warriors with their faces concealed were at work to gather up the fallen, no matter their faction. Karol felt his heart gave a painful squeeze at seeing the victims between his comrades. More bandits, at least three times the number, laid in the dust or were being rounded up as prisoners. Three Dires, each sporting a multitude of wounds were being piled out of the road. Rejoicing felt right, but he felt too drained for it.

They led him to a large clearing at the wood’s edge. There, a ring of silent soldiers kept watching over a ragged band of caravan guards. Karol’s relief at seeing his comrades was heart-branching, just as much as the anguish at seeing their conditions. All of them sported at least some kind of injury as well as bandages and medications. Karol was surprised by those but before he could ask, the guards shoved him into the circle and left.

And so began the waiting.

From time to time, another caravan guard was dragged to join them, but apart from that it was only mind-numbing waiting, full of doubts and worry. No matter the attempts, the guards refused to answer to questions. In fact, they seemed to refuse to acknowledge their existence altogether, just standing guard there like so many statues. They gave Karol the creeps. He had seen disciplined soldiers in his days, but that was just too much.

They soon gave up trying to get some answers - especially after Jon had been knocked out cold after breaking down with frustration and trying to assault one of the strangers - and settled into waiting.

The guards asked Karol for news about their employer, to which he could only shake his head. He didn’t count to see his friend alive again.

His expectations were blown out the wall quite suddenly.

They were waiting for what had felt like ages, when the ring of guards opened up to reveal a very pale but definitely alive Karl held up by one of the strangers.

The guards broke out in surprised and relieved cheers at seeing their employer alive, so much that the strangers had to tight their ranks to keep them from just swarming to him. Karol could barely believe his eyes. He could still feel the blood on his hands and forearms, could still see it bubble around the rag he had stuffed in the wound. With so much gone, anybody would be dead!

After having practically snatched the wounded man from the strangers, the guards laid him on the grass, forming a protective circle around him.

“Karol!” Barked the familiar rough voice of the merchant. “That bastard has been holding my guts in! Where’s he? Karol! Come here, you son of a bitch!”

The guards stood aside to let him pass, something that he did with uncharacteristically hesitation.

He warily glanced at his old friend, almost expecting to find another person in his place. But no, it was him; that large, arrogant smile, that gruff brashness in his eyes. Apart from being white as a sheet and looking tired, that man was undoubtedly his old friend.

And yet…

“Karl…” Karol kneeled on the grass, grasping the hand the merchant offered him. The strong, calloused hand was the same he was used to as well. Still, his doubts lingered like shadows in the corner.

Something of his turmoil had to appear, since Karl’s expression turned serious.

“I know what you’re thinking, old friend,” he said. “I was sure i was a goner too. But…!” Despite his obvious weakness, the merchant’s grasp turned to iron. “No daemon-speaking brought me back, no black-hearted curse tainted me. You have to believe me. That man, he brought him back from the brink with the tools of the honest men. Look!” He fussed with the bandage covering his chest and, before anyone could stop him, was showing his wound.

Out of instinct, Karol grimaced before the massive, burned scar. Still, there couldn’t be any doubt about it: that was the work of the scalding iron, what honest men used, not the mark left by wicked curses.

The men turned quizzical eyes upon him, unsure of what that exchange was supposed to mean. Karol ignored them, deep in thinking. As one of the Seven, he had been grown with stories and admonishments toward the wicked arts of the demon-speakers and the distortions they could bring upon the hearts of men. And still, before the still ongoing smell of burned flesh, and that gaze that he had come to know so well down the years, could he truly doubt?

Karol felt his doubts wash away. He smiled, holding the hand of Karol with both of his own.

“I am happy to see you’re still kicking, old dog,” he said.

Karl smirked. “Like something like that small knife could kill me!” He laughed, only to erupt into a flurry of coughs and curses.

“Ye ye!” He wheezed, waving angrily at the concerned guards. “It’s just a scratch, you pansies! Get off! You’re suffocating me!”

Once the little crisis was passed, Karl wanted information about his men’s conditions. His jaw clenched when he heard that they had had five fallen but he didn’t see anything about it, just nodding sharply. About the rest, after making sure that none wore life-incapacitating wounds, he just barked that it would pass and that they stop whining.

A great problem remained: the strangers. They had technically saved them, but what now? What were their intentions?

Karol advised for prudence. Karl rallied against that. He wouldn’t be kept in the dark like that, not after having risked life and limb! He pretended to know!

They were immersed in the discussion when one of the masked men interrupted them.

“You’re free to go.”

The words needed a moment to register.

“Wait a moment now…!”

The man didn’t leave room for arguing. They were free to leave, period. They would find their weapons on the carriages.

“Take them and go.”

“Wait!” Karl was furious for being disregarded like that. “What about my cargo?!?”

The cargo was gone. The strangers had to upload it to make space for themselves. Karl launched into a flurry of curses at that, but the man wouldn’t be impressed. With a last, stiff nod, he and the other strangers retreated, leaving them there.

As they watched them go, mixed feelings running through the group, Karol put a hand over Karl’s shoulder, that was trembling. “I say that we cut our losses and do as they say.”

“My ass!” The merchant all but bellowed, forcing his friend and all those around to flinch. “I lost five men. I won’t lose my cargo! Who’ll repay their families if i don’t get my money! Don’t you even dare argue with me,” he added with fury, seeing Karol ready to reply. “I won’t back down on this, not even if it kills me!” And that was a real possibility, judging by how the outburst had him folding over himself in pain.

Karol knew that opposing him in that would only lead to more risk for his health. And… he guessed he could agree with him. Without the cargo, none of them were seeing the money that would have made that blasted journey somewhat worth.

He sighed. “Alright, but try to be polite for once, alright?”

The merchant nodded, but the fierce light in his eyes and the naked teeth told the guard another story.

Karol sighed again. Karl was him alright. It remained to see if he would manage to get them killed yet.