Efwen, the dark skinned man, had accepted the deal. For a few days, Efwen would remain at the fort with his people, each of them now under the protection of Rivea, her armies and walls. Ares wondered how they felt about such a thing, to trust relative strangers with their lives, outnumbered at least ten to one, whilst having left a life of abuse and enslavement only recently.

“The Dreez are a slave people,” Abdan said. “They had given up their worldly possessions and left our Kingdom of old, from the southern islands that were under the protection of our Kingdom. It was their chosen path, and now they are to abandon it?”

“I hear you, Abdan,” Ares said. “You’re missing just one thing.” Ares stopped where he was and then turned to look over the fort, his eyes glued to the slave people. They were mostly men, though there were some women and a handful of children. “They fled from the Mikar, like you, and they have chosen to place their trust in me for the moment.”

Abdan nodded his head, not disputing the point. Instead they stopped at the nearby tent that had been placed in order for Ares to spend some time to rest, as he had yet wished to leave. He wanted to speak with the refugees and migrants nearby, to ask them of their wants and needs and to see just how eager they were to join Rivea.

“Rivea is a place for all,” Ares said. “There are very few things that would stop one joining Rivea, and being enslaved isn’t one of them. If I turn them away, then I would have done Rivea a disservice.”

Abdan bowed his head once more, not disputing any of the points. Ares got the feeling that Abdan was merely giving him some more context to work with, and so tried to figure out a way to allow Abdan to save a little face.

“What more do you know of the Dreez people?” Ares asked.

“They were once cousins of ours, distant cousins. They lived upon the small islands south of our Kingdom, and when inevitably there came time for war, they abandoned their homes. Many left to become mercenaries, others went to work in other Kingdoms. Eventually many had given up to become slaves, working for a small plot of land, day after day. They are people with a hard work ethic and a hard body and mind.”

Ares couldn’t help but wonder how they could be hard of mind if they had given in to slavery, but there was probably something more to it than just that. Ares nodded his head, for Abdan seemed to be done with what he knew of the Dreez people. It seemed that they didn’t have much going for them, or at the very least, that any more knowledge of the Dreez people would have to come from the Dreez themselves.

Ares ate a little and relaxed, his twins eventually coming over to him to play. He lifted the pair up, having gained a little strength from all the walking and resting he had been doing the past few weeks.

“What’s up?” he asked the pair as they began to slap his chest. “Ah, you’ve come to abuse me have you? You really do take after your mother.” He brushed through the thick clefts of hair and then rubbed the base of their horns. “Do you like the fort? One day you guys will be in charge of the fort, so make sure you grow up big and strong and smart, okay?” He kissed their foreheads and then lifted them up. He went about, walking around the fort for some time.

He checked on the tent town, making sure everyone was sorted out with food and water, and to make sure that everything was being kept above board. Once he was done with the tent town, he returned back to Rivea, King Abdan following him.

The next few days passed by slowly, during which Ares caught a stray thought. There had been something nagging him at the back of his mind, as though he was missing something. Then it came to him. Where the hell was Ozondo?

“He is meditating,” Rori said. “He wished to be left alone, and so we have given him his peace.”

“Do you think he’s run away?”

“He wouldn’t be very good at meditating if he ran away.”

Ares looked at Rori for a long moment, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Right, yeah, I just meant… you know?”

“I would not say such things about a dwarf,” Rori replied as he led Ares to the nearby cave. Ares could see the labourers bringing back pieces of ore, the labourers throwing him a nod and a greeting as they entered.

Laying down on the ground, almost as naked as the day he was born, was the dwarfly sight of Ozondo. He was wearing a single piece of cloth wrapped around his crotch, but otherwise he was bare against the ground. He was one with the earth.

“Oh,” Ares whispered. “I think we should leave him to it.”

Rori nodded and the pair left, heading back towards Rivea proper. He should probably speak with Ozondo one day, though if the dwarf was meditating, or whatever he was doing with the earth, then he’d need to delay such a talk.

Ares finally returned to his tent, which had been placed some way away from the shrine and the path to the river. It had been relocated to a safer location, over worries of the King’s ailing health, but also because Ares didn’t want to be seen constantly agonising with each step when those days would eventually come, plaguing him as it always did.

Efwen appeared a moment later, being escorted around by a pair of White Cloaks. He had appeared as the night did when Ares would sometimes close his eyes for a moment too long and then awake a moment later t find that he had slept through half a day.

“Oh,” Ares said. “Efwen, how do you do?” he asked.

“I am doing well,” the dark skinned man replied.

There was an awkward pause. “So, uh, would you like a tour?”

“I have been guided by your White Cloaks,” he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I have yet to see all of Rivea.”

Ares motioned a hand. “Make sure he sees all of Rivea, though the dragonfolk village is off limits. They are allied to us, but there is no need to give away their secrets.”

“I wonder how many secrets you keep,” Efwen replied, his eyes staring deep into Ares’ eyes.

“A great many,” Ares said with a smile. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be a very good King, would I?” Ares smirked, though he could see Efwen had been disarmed by his words. “Have Efwen accompany one of the rhinofolk, he can see how they are being treated. If you were to join, you would go under the same process as them. You can ask them how they’re being treated too.”

“They are not humans,” Efwen accused, “you would treat them differently.”

“I might treat some people slightly differently.” Ares shrugged. “I don’t expect a catfolk to carry as much as a rhinofolk, or for an oxfolk to ride a wolf as well as the wolffolk do, so of course there are considerations. I will not, and I will never, treat someone poorly because of the way they look, or dependant on their race. It is not the way of Rivea.”

The corners of Efwen’s lips grew taut, still not compelled to believe Ares as of yet.

Ares shrugged and then threw a look to Rori and then back to Efwen. “You see that I am very different looking to Rori-kin,” Ares said. “He treats me a certain way, but is that because I look human, or is it because I am the King of Rivea?” Efwen did not reply.

“You need not listen to his words,” Rori said, “but watch over his actions.”

“Succinctly put,” Ares said with a small smile. Ares was constantly reminded of his good fortune, for Rori was someone that would bat in his corner whenever he needed it, and hopefully to bat him upside the head if Ares ever wandered from his path.

With that, Ares excused himself with Rori.

“He is worried for his people,” Rori said.

“He is a Dreez,” Ares said, as though that explained everything.

“I do not know of his people, but I can see it in his eyes.”

“His eyes?”

“His eyes are filled with a great pain, the pain of a battered people.”

“You speak as though you’ve seen such a pain before…”

“I have, long ago.” Rori looked off into the distance, pensive.

Ares waited for him to finish his thoughts.

“He will only accept you if he sees what you can do,” Rori said.

“Should I show off my phoenix powers?” Ares asked.

“In your state?”

“Good point.”

Ares returned to his tent and fell into the mass of blankets. He stared up at the ceiling for a long while. Everything was going smoothly, and yet there was something, a shadow, looming overhead. He closed his eyes and sighed. There was no need to think of such matters.

Days passed by, Ares continuing to live in a near dream-like state. He was taken, overwhelmed once again by the fever. This time Emerli was nearby, administering various balms, and there were a couple of shamans who helped him deal with the pain.

The wound was growing worse, and the shadow loomed ever present over him.

“Ares-kin!” a rider exclaimed as they appeared. “Heria-kin has returned!”