Rick felt the world come back. It was a weird sensation; it wasn’t like waking from a deep slumber, but more like finding that existence suddenly came to be. From one moment to the next, he had simply, started to exist again. It was as if he had in one moment let his life into the blob and then the next, he was staring up at a white sky.

Panic wanted to rise, wanted to expel and force him into action. But he didn’t really, care. Lying down on what felt like hard metal, clasped together on what felt like rope, staring up at a slowly moving white sky.

He wondered why he wasn’t panicking, tied up and dragged as he was. Concluding that he had been through too much, felt too much and experienced too much to care. Not that he didn’t care but more that, it was exhausting caring this much.

Rick was tired. He just wanted to sleep and rely on the kindness of others. Feeling that he could do such with Brynjar, feeling that he could protect him, keep him safe, as he’d presumably already done after falling unconscious.

Rick didn’t really know what had happened after his life had emptied and he’d fallen unconscious. He just knew that Brynjar had somehow tied him to this plank of metal and dragged him along. Brynjar hadn’t noticed him awakening, nor had Rick tried to make him notice. He felt perfectly happy just staying still on the slowly moving piece of metal, tied comfortably as he was.

Maybe not comfortably, but comfortable with how he didn’t have to do anything. Lying still, staring up at nothing, not really thinking of anything important.

Until he was.

Thoughts coming towards the little beast and where it was. Wondering why it had run. Pondering on what it was doing right now.

Coming to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. Even if he felt a pinch of sorrow that it had disappeared, that he wouldn’t get to see it again, to express his gratitude, to thank it. It was probably for the better that it had gone away. He wouldn’t be able to keep it, and himself, safe. He didn’t have what was necessary to keep them both happy. He didn’t deserve such a kind little beast.

Something prodded the side of his head. Looking down, he spotted a smiling Bob staring up at him, equally tied but with his arms free, tied next to Rick’s heart. The two shared a small smile, but didn’t do much else, tied as they were.

Brynjar seemed to finally notice his awakening, stopping and speaking up.

“Hey you, you finally awake, huh? Took your time. But not really that weird considering how you knocked yourself out. You seem to be good at that. I mean, using up all your Lífið on that small, er, thing, seems excessively excessive. Like, did you try to create a small bomb or something? And you only used one rune for it, not defining it any rules, I mean, that's a recipe for eventuall disaster. And I guess, it almost was, wasn't it?”

Rick moved his neck to try to look up at Brynjar, but felt the same fatigue as before, halting his movements. Not as bad as it had been, but still very much bad.

“Oh right, I haven’t given you any drug-sssee-medicine yet… Give me a moment”

Brynjar spoke as he ruffled through his pack, pulling out his scribbled bag and grabbing a smaller bag from within. Inside this bag, a brown mush mixed with flakes of pink was folded out and presented to Rick.

Bitter taste, water down his throat and a few minutes later, Rick felt invigorated and fresh. Standing up after being freed from the rope’s bonds. He turned to look at Brynjar, but stopped himself as he saw what appeared to be a huge, enormous, gargantuan wall in front of them.

It loomed up and over, standing out as if a giant trying to gulp down the sun. Speckles of men walking atop this giant mammoth of a wall. And in the middle of this giant, there was a maw of jagged iron teeth with a circlet of an emblem above it, exposing an opening that led into what appeared to be a bustling city.

Rick stared slack jawed, wondering how long he’d been unconscious. His earlier panic rising quickly, crashing all hopes that he had had it under control. Brynjar spoke up calmly as he reached down and folded the metal that he'd been using to drag Rick.

“Impressive, right? Borg-Guðs, the city of man, built by the forbearers atop magic not conceivable to our mere mortal world. Created to stop the tide of monsters at the beginning of the human age. Or so they say. In this day and age though, it’s just a very impressive city made to train soldiers and educated future scholars, or Fræðimaður as they are liked to be called. Arrogant, greedy pricks is what I call them, though they are excellent sources for information.”

Brynjar supplied, using confident steps and a calm voice as he walked towards the city’s gate. Rick kept still, staring slack jawed up at the impressively humongous walls, Bob equally stunned on his shoulder. Standing still until Brynjar noticed, speaking up.

“Come along now, I have things to do and people to query, also a certain someone to get to my church for physical evaluation, and supply me with answers to burning questions.”

He spoke calmly, looking over his shoulder back on Rick. Rick slowly nodding back, taking a first, unsteady step forward. Telling himself that it would work out, that Brynjar would keep him safe, that the red man couldn’t have followed him this far.

Nervously, he reached his hand up and grabbed Bob, moving him to his chest while taking a deep breath. Repeating the mantra that he was safe, that he had nothing to worry about, that everything would be alright.

The trio of strange individuals neared the walls, neared the gaping maw of an enormous gate. An armoured fellow clad in shining armour from head to toe. A highly clad fellow in clothes atop clothes, looking like a baby wrapped up in a cocoon of clothes, if it weren’t for the exposed arm and leg. And to top it off, a wooden toy held in the grasp of the clothed cocoon.

A strange sight for any gates guard. A strange sight for this particular gate guard that stood silently and watchfully, clad in warm clothes atop a cold chain mail atop even more padded clothing. He stood alone by the gate as his fellow comrades preferred the warmth of the nearby barracks, his bad streak of dice landing him today’s duty of guarding the practically dead gate. Travellers few to nil during the coldest month of winter.

The guard stared as the two fellows grew nearer, recognizing one, not the other. And as they came within talking distance, he didn’t bother bringing his spear or shield.

“Hail champion! Are thine mission completed in these white, cold woods? And to whom thus thou bringeth to our humble abode?”

“Shut it Eric, you’re not a Fræðimaður and you never will. Now tell the alderman that me and my companion are here to stay for a couple of days. And don’t dally like last time, Eric.”

“I would never dally dear champion, I would never dally for someone as esteemed and powerful and LEGENDARY as you. I would never take the time to purposefully make you stay in the cold for longer than necessary. I would of course make your time by the gate quick and merciful. For someone as highly esteemed as you, someone with so much influence in the church of diligence as you, for-“

“Eric, stop being such a pain in the ass or hear me Dugnaður I will smite you as if you were the very opposite of diligence.”

The soldier named Eric simple smiled at Brynjars calm demeanor, a face full of youth with stubble of hair, standing with his arms tucked underneath his warm cloak. His eyes left Brynjars for a moment, turning to look back at Rick, eyes turning a shade of confused as he spotted Rick’s exposed arm and leg.

“So, who are you? Who is he? I’m assuming someone of value considering this jackass-champion wouldn’t help a kitten if it didn’t give him a glowing sword first.”

Eric spoke as if from experience, eyes going up and down Rick’s body, scanning it as if sizing up an opponent. Rick merely glancing down, trying to figure out how to respond. Coming up with a way, turning up and seeing Eric smile as he looked down on Rick's chest. Rick followed and spotted Bob.

“Hehe, is that a toy? I’m assuming one of those fake ones bought over at-at.. ehm, what was that place called now again? Útspil? Tréheimili? Eh, don’t really care. Hehe, it’s moving. Aaaaw, it’s waving at me-“

Eric cut himself off, his eyes going from soft smiling, to sudden realization. Opening wide as his mouth fell down. His face turned up, staring Rick straight in the eye, then turning to face Brynjar by his side. Looking at one, then the other, going back and forth quicker and quicker until his eyes fastened on Rick, almost whispering.

“Yo-yo-your t-t-th toy-toy-t”

“Yes, the toymaker. Now will you tell the alderman that we would want to enter the city, immediately?”

Eric continued stammering, his posture slouching slightly. Then quickly going tall while his eyes remained wide. Stammering out an uncertain “Yes-yes! Imm-immidietly!” And turned to run inside a cobbled building with what appeared to be a fire inside.

Rick stared after him, dread welling up, realizing that something was amiss. Something was wrong. He wanted to run, to escape. But he didn’t, turning to look at Brynjar instead.

Brynjar knew who Rick was, and being the champion of diligence, he must also know that he had a bounty on his head. And even knowing that, he hadn’t killed him, taken him to prison or given him up. Rick swallowed the dread, taking one deep breath to calm himself, reassuring himself. Waiting for Eric to return.

The wait felt like forever, standing in the cold-but-not-cold weather, near the humongous gate surrounded by rock upon rock that made up gigantic walls.

An outcry of several men burst out loudly from the inside of the barracks, muffled but loud. Men upon men speaking over one another far too quickly to be overheard from the outside. Rick tried to listen in, but in vain, holding a tighter grip around Bob for comfort.

Suddenly, a door burst open, a single man spilling out with several other men following. Those following stayed a respectful distance away, some only peeking their heads out of the door. The single man took quick and confident steps towards Rick and Brynjar, looking like a aged man with long braided hair atop his head coloured in silver white. He wore what appeared to be a scowl and stared intensively at Rick as he moved towards them. Rick shuffled a little backwards and behind Brynjar.

As the aged man came within punching distance, Rick spotted a sword stuck to his hip and a hand resting comfortably over it. His stare felt impossibly powerful, as if a god themselves had decided to use his eyes to stare at Rick. Slowly, he moved from staring at Rick, to staring at Brynjar.

“Brynjar, I hope you have a good explanation for this.”

As a response, Brynjar shook his shoulders, taking a second to respond. “Nothing to explain. Simple business, really. Just let us in and we’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

The aged man shook his head, bringing one hand to his face as he smudged it, sighing deeply, whispering loudly to himself. “Why is it always me” before looking back up and speaking to Brynjar.

“Ragnar is in town.”

A name that was said as if it would tell Brynjar everything, and considering his reaction, it seemed too.

“He is? Shit. Uuugh, dammit. That will complicate things. You sure you can’t just let us… slink by without telling him?”

The aged man shook his head again, saying. “I wish, but he was very specific to not let anyone in without informing him first. You know, considering who he’s chasing.” The aged man said, turning to look at Rick. Rick avoiding his gaze, feeling sweat form in excessive amounts, feeling it dribbling down his forehead and back.

Chasing him? Ragnar?

Rick only knew one man who chased him, the red-haired man. And if he was here, then the red-haired man was more determined than any man he’d ever heard of. And a determined man wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Rick looked at Brynjar’s back, wondering if he could keep him safe. If he even wanted to do that, considering how he reacted to hearing Ragnar’s name.

Panic rose like an angry flower. Dread formed like the swarm of hornets. Fear rising like water during a tsunami.

Trapped with no escape.

He looked past Brynjar who spoke unhurriedly with the aged man. Sound foreign to Rick at the moment, his mind too loud with fear. Looking past, he spotted the many guards huddling around the door of the barracks, whispering amongst themselves as they stared at him, at him. Further past them, he saw into the city proper, few people milling about. Some standing still and staring at the commotion by the gate, a larger crowd starting to form.

Rick took a step back, grabbing Bob harder as breathing grew harsher. Struggling for a proper breath.

The aged man suddenly walked away, leaving Brynjar and Rick to themselves. Brynjar speaking up while Rick struggled to hear anything over his increasingly faster beating heart.

“Toymaker, just look at them. Hypocrite’s the lot of em, I tell you. I come here with the heart of a dead dragon and no one bats an eye. I can just stroll right on by without any fuzz. But when the toymaker comes, oh boy, a storm gets brewing. Stupid people… Just because he killed a manticore with a dagger doesn’t make him better than me. I slayed a fucking dragon! Yes, I know, I got help from several hundred people and lured it into a trap, but that doesn’t make it any less heroic! Yeez, sometimes I wonder if people even care that I’m a champion… I’m not envious or anything...”

Rick wasn’t listening to Brynjars rambling, focused as he was on his internal demons, and the external threat. He was panicking on what to do, remembering the blob and how it could, might, protect him.

Quickly, his empty hand started searching his thick clothes for his statue, the blob, patting his entire body down. Not finding it, he slung his pack down on the ground, putting Bob on the ground next to him and rummaged madly. Tossing stuff around wildly as he searched, finding it tuckered within a small blanket that didn’t belong to Rick. Ignoring that, he pulled it out and stared at it.

Finding it still, motionless and dead.

Which was impossible, should be impossible. Rick had given it so much life, so much of him, that even thinking about it gave him a woozy feeling. He’d never given so much, he’d never failed so spectacularly. Why was this blob so different? Why wasn’t it alive, why had it required more than Rick’s endless ocean of life?

Rick stared in horror down at his motionless blob, his panicked mind not giving him respite from the thought of how defenseless he was. Looking up, he spotted Ragnar bent down, his helmeted head turned to look down on him.

“What’s got you so freaked out hmmhmm?... Oh, Oooooh! So, the rumours are true, you really are running away from Ragnar.”

A soft pause came, rubbing at his helmeted chin full of an invisible beard.

“Well, toymaker, I can't just let you go, so would you agree to yet another proposition? One that I assume you would like.”

Rick stared up at Brynjar, not moving as he tried to understand what was happening, mind to panicked to think straight.

“I’ll get that pesky Ragnar off of your back, and in return, we continue to be partners. Not forever, mind you, but only until I find that pesky little dragon. What do you say?”

Brynjar spoke, words like honey to Rick’s frightened mind, like nectar to the bee, calming him almost immediately, giving him clarity where panic ruled. Rick quickly shuffled up on unsteady feet, held steady by a firm hand on his shoulder and what felt like a smile on Brynjars helmeted face. Rick smiled back and nodded, his dread, panic and horror draining away like water down a slope, staring happily at his savior.

Brynjar reaching his hand forward and grabbing Rick’s, shaking it quickly as he stated.

“Perfect! Partner in crime, this is but a minor bump so don’t worry, once we talk our way past Ragnar, that small little beast will be but a memory of the past and you can continue your journey through the land without having to check your back for Ragnar.”

Rick nodded as Brynjar spoke, looking softly at him, blinking calmly as his heart started beating softer, slower. Then something in Rick’s mind clicked, churned to a realization, giving him something to think about.

Brynjar spoke of a little dragon, something Rick only knew of in tales and legends, having presumed he wouldn’t have any clues for how to help hunt such a monster. Then Brynjar spoke of a little beast, and Rick remembered his little beast. And an oozing uncertainty bubbled from the depths of his stomach. Oozing to form into a firm stone of unease. A stone pushed aside by the logical mind, stating that it could not be, Brynjar could not mean the little beast, the little beast wasn’t something to be hunted. It was innocent.

Rick didn’t have more time to dwell on it, for in the distance behind the now crowding gate. A figure from his nightmares emerged, walking a head taller than the rest, full of red hair and a scowl that seemed worse than any monster.

Rick gulped.