Ares hissed in pain, wincing as his body tried to retreat away from the source of such pain. He grabbed onto a staff tight, biting into a day as hot oils were poured across his stomach.

"That really fucking hurts," Ares said through his gasping, snapping the spear shaft in half. In these rare moments of pain, his previous strength returned to him, yet disappeared as quickly as it returned.

The last few days had been quite a pain for Ares, though Emerli had tried to fix such an issue. She would appear every morning to try and treat the wound and dress is, yet each time she had come, there had been a new level of pain and suffering.

"It will pass," Lana said. "Breathe, you don't want to cry in front of Runar, do you?"

Ares' eyes met Runar's sweet and innocent eyes, which stared at him with great wonder. He didn't want to worry her, though the fact that Lana was using her against him had caused a great stir within him.

"You're the most terrible, vile, unforgivable woman I've ever met!" Ares howled on pain and then bit into the cloth, wincing as the pain worked him like an inferno.

Finally the oil stopped, gathering around his stomach before it cooled and hardened. It encased him like a wax, dripping around his side's before it encased him.

Ares fell back as though he had just finished giving birth, his body sweaty and hot and aching. His stomach tightened, encased within the concoction that Emerli had created. There was a tension to his gut now, more noticeable now, but whenever his curse pulsed it did not affect him as harsh at it once had.

"That feels a little better," Ares said. "Thanks for that, Emerli."

The past few days had been quite awful with how Emerli had been testing the various oils and concoctions against his skin. Yesterday, neither Lana or Runar could remain in the tent because the smell was just so awful, so the pair went to go and paint a shield. Ares wanted to leave too, but it would have been difficult to apply the mop of moss against his stomach if he was not there.

“At least this time we could remain,” Lana said with a small smile on her face.

“I’m not sure if that is a good thing,” Ares said.

Lana frowned and very quickly Ares’ eyes flashed to her and he smirked at his wife.

“Perhaps I should leave you,” Lana said.

“Don’t.” Ares chuckled, though winced. “Oh, that isn’t too bad actually.” The pain wasn’t so great that he needed to wince, but the habit of it had overwhelmed his face.

“Good,” Lana said as she slapped his arm.

Ares threw her a look and narrowed his eyes, rubbing his arm where she had struck her. Lana seemed to enjoy striking him, Ares could only wonder if Lana enjoyed hurting him. Was she a sadist?

“Do you have anything for a wife that hits me?” Ares asked.

Emerli shook her head.

“A shame.”

Finally Ares was allowed to leave his tent for his daily walk. He planted a firm kiss on Lana’s neck to let her know that he had only been joking. He felt the wind against his face and the warmth of the sun that encompassed Rivea. His pair of guards joined him on his walk, dressed in their white cloaks. Rivea had a hundred of these White Cloaks, many joining the prestigious order, now seeing that everyone was starting at the same level, though some of the guards had left, many of whom were offered spots in the army.

Ares hadn’t taken it personally, for some of them seemed the sort that sought out something that worked their bodies for labour rather than training to fight one day. They wanted to build, to dig, to fight, rather than to train to walk around a pair of children, or look after a King that would leave without them and return cursed or half-dying. It was this that had caused many to leave. They took issue with themselves for allowing their King to be injured when they had sworn to protect him. Ares had allowed them to leave in peace too, though he let them know that they always had a place to return to if they would ever need to heal their hearts of such a heavy blow.

Truly, Rivea was his Kingdom.

He checked on the armour smith, Shim, to see how if she had made progress on the designs for the helmet. Over the week she had been tweaking the designs of the helmets so they were unique compared to the soldier’s helmets.

“It’s great,” Ares said.

The helmet was styled similar to the Attic styled helmets of Classical Greece, with ear guards to the side. Depending on the individual who was wearing the helmet, the piece needed to be customised to allow for ears or horns to be free from discomfort, and as such each helmet needed to be made separately. Humans had it so easy.

“I am glad you think so,” Shim said, her lips twitching to a smile.

Smithing nearby was a mighty woman, who had quite the mighty stomach. She was both muscular and curvy, at her side a rag that she would use to wipe her brow every so often. Ares squinted his eyes, for he was sure he recognised the woman.

“How goes it, Olga?” Ares asked, finally remembering her name.

The woman stopped and wiped her brow. “It goes well, Ares-kin.” She revealed to her a blade she was making, one of those made for the white cloaks.

“Looks good,” Ares said with an approving nod.

“Yes,” Olga replied, as though it was obvious it would be good.

“I’m glad to see you are still here within our service,” Ares said.

“As long as Lana remains, I will too.”

Ares smiled. Such loyalty was admirable, and he was glad that someone that had joined from so early remained within Rivea. He was sure that most of the people that remained were those that had followed Ares from near the beginning.

“I will leave you to your work then,” Ares said. “Your work is greatly appreciated.” Ares threw a nod to the crafters and then left, leaving them to their work.

The week had been quite productive, for many of the guard were kitted out with their new gear. He had allowed the children to help with painting the shields, doing the outer white and inner blue area before those with a more refined touch with paint had completed the proper touches.

Ares reached down through his shirt to touch the waxy like concoction that Emerli had created. It was doing quite some work, for the pain had gone down to a low throbbing, though he did wonder if that was a good thing after all. The pain reminded him something was wrong and that something needed to be fixed.

Heria would be back within three weeks or so, though an influx of refugees and migrants had already begun.

“Ares-kin,” called a wolffolk rider who rode up to him. His pair of guards remained at attention as the woman approached, Ares nodding for her to come to deliver her message. “We have received more refugees over the night, and there is another sighting of more. Hemwa-kin is running low on riders to escort them through the winding path.”

“Ah, well… then… just allow them to remain near or within he fort for now, I will send forward a group of white cloaks to keep an eye on them.” The plan had been to escort the refugees through the winding path after allowing them a few days to rest. They would travel with a small group of wolffolk riders, some of whom would leave, most of whom would follow the group. There were often small groups of riders which would ride hard to check whether the refugees had tried to attack the wolffolk warriors or not, but so far all had been peaceful.

The wolffolk rider bowed their head and then turned, replacing one of the wolffolk riders that was stations at Rivea, as each time a rider arrived, one of the riders that remained then rode out to the base of the mountain.

Since he had nothing better to do, he went and found a group of ten white cloaks, a few of them once being members of his personal Roaring Tridents.

“It seems there are a large number of migrants approaching, and I would like you to assist the fort. You are to keep order, and make sure none of the soldiers bother the migrants. Remain within groups of two, and if the migrants need any help, please do help them as best as you can. If there is an issue, try to remain neutral between the pair and mediate between Rivea and the migrants as best as you can. If Hemwa, or any other officer has an issue with the migrants, inform them that they are to bring such issues to both Rori and I, and we will deal with those matters. This is the authority I grant to you.” Ares then summoned a sword and motioned for each warrior to come to him. He rest the flat of his blade over their shoulder left shoulder, the same side of the Rivean salute, as though knighting them. He had done so on a whim because it seemed like a cool thing to do.

With that, the group left, taking with them some supplies as a group of twenty wolffolk riders escorted them, also bringing with them some supplies.

With that done, he made for breakfast. Today had gone so smoothly, what a wonderful day it had been thus far. As he approached Rori, throwing him a wave, another wolffolk rider appeared. They rushed along until they were nearby, waving for Ares’ attention. Ares nodded towards them as they appeared.

“Ares-kin,” the rider pulled up near him on their wolf. “It is Orndu, he has returned.”

Ares’ eyes snapped up to the wolffolk.