“The scouts have returned, the scouts have returned!” exclaimed a rather eager Flying Wolf as he rode his way through Rivea. He eventually stopped ahead of Ares, saluting the King in time with his wolf. “The scouts have returned, Ares-kin.”

“I heard,” Ares said, though he was a little confused. He hadn’t sent off any scouts, not that he recalled.

Ares was just about to speak with the Reptai, with the dawn sun strong and bearing over Rivea with it’s warmth. He threw a look to Rori, who merely nodded his head.

“As you had left on your journey west, I had sent Beor off with his warriors to scout the surrounding area, seeing to the various villages and such,” Rori said. “I was uncertain when he was to return.”

“I didn’t hear of this,” Ares replied with a raised brow.

“You had gone through so much, I had thought that the matter was unimportant to bring up to you due to all the stresses you had currently faced. I am sorry if I have wronged you.”

“No,” Ares shook his head, “you haven’t. If you felt it was best to keep the knowledge from me, then it is as simple as that. I would prefer to know from now on, though.”

Rori bowed his head. “I will keep that in mind for the future.”

“Thank you.” Ares turned to save the soldier and then nodded his head. “Well then… I suppose I will have to pay them a visit.”

“Would you prefer I do so?” Rori asked.

Ares turned to face the bearman, thinking for a long moment. He really didn’t want to give the spiel to the Reptai, he barely knew what he wanted to say, and he was quite curious about the scouting.

“I’ll deal with the scouting, I would like to see what they had learnt.”

Rori nodded his head as Ares apologised to the Reptai and then left, eager to see what they had scouted. He smiled to himself. This was also a good chance to try and gather information for his eventual journey to the east. ‘Come on, Beor. Give me something!’

When Ares arrived, mounted upon his oxen and flanked by a pair of Roaring Tridents and ten Flying Wolves, he frowned.

Beor and his group, only a dozen of them or so, were in the worst state imaginable. Ares swiftly rode to meet with Beor and then hopped off his mount.

“What happened?” Ares asked.

Beor sat as tall as he could as he was being tended to by some of those that knew how to use medicines and herbs.

“An unfortunate set of circumstances.”

Ares glanced around. “How many… how many of you left from Rivea?”

“A thousand,” Beor said.

“Only,” Ares’ eyes flashed around to count them, “thirteen return?”

Beor nodded. “An unfortunate set of circumstances. We came across some humans, some creatures, and a Gorro on our journey.”

Ares’ hair stood on end as his face darkened, growing taut. He nodded. “The Gorro…” Whispers and mutterings went through the camp. “The Gorro is a sign of bad luck, isn’t it? Misfortune and such?”

“The worst,” Beor nodded. “Unfortunately we had lost many then, but we managed to survive to return.”

‘I’m not sure the information will be worth it…’ Ares thought. A thousand of them had left, a thousand rather powerful warriors. He didn’t have them before, he hadn’t even thought they were part of Rivea, but considering what they did…

So Beor began to regal the tale, though not quite as slow. He spoke of how they had seen the Gorro, leaving it in peace before they continued. They noted that the villages nearby were outmatched by Rivea, most were only a few hundred in strength. They were then sighted by some humans, and many of them had lost their lives staving the humans off so the others could survive. Then they went south to the plains, where the Gorro had appeared and had slain a large number of people, of those that were native to the southern lands as well as the scouting party.

“We returned as quickly as we could from the southern lands, it was no more than a week ago.”

Ares raised his brows in surprise. That wasn’t very long ago, and they had seen the Gorro so recently? That surprised him… that was also far too close for comfort.

“The southern lands were filled with mostly… those that were not fit for fighting, like those we had left behind.”

Ares nodded his head. “Are the southern lands filled with boarfolk, rhinofolk and buffalofolk?”

“It is as you say,” Beor affirmed, nodding his head.

“Well that makes sense. They sent a huge army to us not long ago, much bigger than we had faced before.”

Beor’s eyes widened with alarm, staring coldly at Ares to see if he was lying. “It should have been no issue.”

“It should have been, but unfortunately…”

Ares then began to fill Beor in about what had happened, with the rebellion and then finally the fight. “Most importantly you missed my wedding,” Ares chuckled.

Beor was already slumped forward, his face heavy, eye lids shut tight.

“I’ll leave you to your rest, Beor. I’m glad you’re back and alive.” Ares placed a hand on the bearman’s shoulder, who nodded and growled a thanks.

Ares left him be and then walked over to the others that had returned, checking on them.

“Call for Emerli-kin,” Ares nodded to a Flying Wolf, who then rode off to fetch her.

‘Damn…’

The scouts had looked all rough, even rougher than Ares. Ares could have healed them, but even now he felt uncertain about using his powers for them. He didn’t want them to rely on him, but also his healing hadn’t been working on himself and he wasn’t sure how it would feel if he healed someone else whilst he was wounded so badly. His wound throbbed as if to confirm his suspicions, but he gathered it was just him finding meaning in nothingness.

He looked across the fort and then off to the distance. Even though the sun was rising, he didn’t feel safe.

“A storm is coming over Rivea.”