A wind swept through the outskirts of town with strong gusts. It was the type of wind that kept everyone inside, leaving the streets an empty shell of its former self. Canu’s clan of men gathered inside the clan’s house. It was a community living space purchased and furinsihed by Canu. Judd, Elric, and Blivth had just finished pushing tables and chairs together inside the clan’s shared house. It was dark out, for it was night. A fire roared in the fireplace of the home, keeping the home stuffy. Elric worked a thick sweat underneath his wools and furs. He was a brute with little care for small inconveniences. He had lived a hard life, never achieving his life’s course the easy way. Judd and Blivth had already thrown off many layers as they crammed two tables together. Blivth yanked his hand with a yelp when one of his fingers got caught between the tables. Elric gave a deep-bellied laugh. Sigeric was seated at the head of the table, awaiting the rest of the men to arrive.

Although the house was the meeting place, most of the men in the clan had their separate homes where they stored their plunder. This home was to be always guarded by no less than eight men to guard their stash of wealth and plunder. A man called Radax was their treasurer. He appeared from around a corner and immediately took a seat at the long, rectangular table. He motioned for Judd to finish sweeping off the tabletop. He had a piece of parchment and a quill. His spectacles sat on the end of his nose. He was a man of few words and he smiled rarely. Judd hurriedly cleaned off the space for Radax, who set about scribbling on the parchment with his quill.

“Four days later and you still haven’t accounted for all of the plunder we took from Ahod’s fortress, eh?” said Sigeric.

Radax slowly lifted his head from his parchment. His face seemed like it was in a permanent scowl, although no one had ever seen it look any different.

“Nearly there,” Radax replied swiftly. He returned to scribbling on his parchment. He dropped a bag of noisy coins on the table and then emptied the contents, counting them one by one. Radax was one of the few literate men of the clan. Caroman was the only other one.

There were twelve men seated at the table once Canu finally arrived. Men greeted him warmly, receiving a cold nod in return from Canu.

“Sigeric, we will speak,” said Canu as he left the room. Sigeric arose from his chair with an arrogant smile over his lips.

“Only one of us will return,” whispered Sigeric in jest as he passed by Blivth. Blivth returned a fearful smile before turning to Judd who pretended that he had heard the interaction.

Canu closed the door. “Why am I hearing a report from Elric that you’ve been telling the townsfolk of the Floweress presence in our clan? That was a secret, Sigeric! Now we’ll have every rivaling tribe and clan in Terragar at our doorstep. You fool!” Canu exclaimed. He was angry, and his posture grew firm as he loomed over Sigeric. He was an inch taller, but his strong frame made him feel much larger than he was. Sigeric didn’t back down. He smiled at Canu.

“Brother, we don’t plan to take in this Floweress as your bed maid, do we? Because if not, I intend to make good coin on her sale. There are lords wealthier than your greatest dreams who will pay,” said Sigeric.

“I never gave you permission to go shouting from the rooftops that we acquired the Floweress,” said Canu grumpily. He turned and slammed a palm against the wall. “You’re an idiot, Sigeric. An idiot!”

“Since when did I need permission from you to talk to townsfolk? You’re the clan leader, not my father,” said Sigeric. There was menace in his words now. Canu brought his face closer to Sigeric’s, gritting his teeth.

“My point is that the Floweress wil draw trouble and unwanted attention to us. There are only four of them in this realm and we have one right here. Do you really want wicked men from Bargetar coming here?”

“I fear no man from Bargetar,” growled Sigeric.

“Mekdah, even.” At the mention of Mekdah, Sigeric grew distant. He pulled away from Canu—a lost look in his eye. “Sigeric, what are you doing?”

Sigeric stared blankly at the ground.

Canu continued, “Eshna was in the company of that sorcerer, Maziq. The sort of magic he employed could only be from Mekdah. Do not act as if that notion is far off to you.”

Sigeric snapped out of his daze, acting oblivious. “Huh? Oh yes, great Canu of Terragar.” Sigeric mockingly bowed to Canu, spitting at his feet once he was leaned over.

“Your disrespect disgusts me. Perhaps it is time you find your own way soon, Sigeric.” Canu’s words took Sigeric aback.

“Surely you are only speaking in jest,” said Sigeric.

“I speak as a friend,” said Canu.

“You are no friend to me,” spat Sigeric as he turned to exit the room. “I’m selling the Floweress at the next slave auction.” Sigeric slammed the door behind him as he walked out into the cold darkness.

When Canu returned to the main room all chatter died down. Men noted Sigeric’s absence, but no one dared ask. Judd and Blivth kept their heads down. Elric appeared nonplussed, twiddling his giant Follian thumbs. Radax finished his third stack of coins and then placed his spectacles neatly on the table in front of him. The stacks of coins were perfectly balanced and even.

Other men scooted in their chairs as Canu took a seat at the table. It was not unusual to have clan meetings, but men were particularly interested given the recent acquisition of the Floweress. Would Canu sell her at the slave auction? Would he keep her for their own sake? Most of the men knew their innermost desire to see her sold. Even splitting the cost of her sale, they would each become even richer than they already were—even beyond imagination.

“There’s been word of northern lords travelling from across the land bridge to attend the slave auction. The representatives of our neighbors Kungar are also expected if the latest talk is to be believed.” A man named Morcant had spoken. He had a skinny head and pointy ears. He was thinning on his head but had a strong tuft of red hair jutting from his chin.

“Thank you, Morcant. That will be all. I am not looking to sell,” replied Canu.

“What of Sigeric, then? He was eager to sell the Floweress. We would be rich,” said Elric. He was innocuous and naïve, so Canu swallowed his initial anger.

“Sigeric does not have a say in mattes. I am the clan leader. Who does not understand that?” Canu asked accusingly.

No man dared speak. Judd and Blivth kept their heads down, looking only at the table. Elric pursed his lips, returning a neutral look to Canu.

Canu got up from his seat, pacing. He often did so when he was thinking.

“Why would Hyltir leave the Floweress behind? He did not need the wealth of the sale. She was his prized possession,” said Canu.

“Perhaps his relationship with the woman went stale,” said a man called Elunu. His hair was gray although he wasn’t older than forty. He was missing a part of his ear.

“No, it must have been more than that. Some say he journeyed towards Mekdah after releasing the Floweress,” said Canu. Men shivered at the mention.

“No man goes there expecting to be the same when they return,” said Elunu. “And what happened to all of Hyltir’s men, anyways?”

“Look at us. We are Hyltir’s men,” said Elric. He spoke slow and fumbled over his words.

“We were allegiant to him. But we were not his main force,” replied Elunu. “Did you not hear of Hyltir’s band of mercenaries that make a good coin off massacring thieving tribes along the tradesroad?”

“His forces are not of importance to us,” said Canu.

“It is a worthy question to look into—Hyltir’s disappearance,” chimed Blivth. Men looked at him crossly. It was not expected of one so young to contribute to these meetings. Blivth went pale in the face and dropped his head.

Canu ignored him. “If it has to do with the Floweress, there is a trend. When she was with Hyltir, he went to Mekdah. When she was with Ahod, he lingered in the company of the sorcerer Maziq that was under the influence of something dark, likely from Mekdah.”

Multiple men leaned forward in their seats, interested by this observation.

“I hear word of ancient powers and alliances making a return. It is all conjecture of course, but apparently an ancient magic is beginning to resurface,” said Morcant. “And it is spreading like a plague, this ancient magic.” Morcant was the ears of the clan, spending all his time in taverns and inns, speaking to strangers, and eavesdropping on conversations.

Canu nodded thoughtfully.

“I would advise caution when dwelling in her company then,” said Radax.

Canu nodded. He was always appreciative of words from Radax.

“I will heed your caution, although I must say I haven’t been able to get a word out of her yet. Caroman is with her now,” said Canu.

“Have the chains of the Great Abyss set by our ancestors been released? It could be a possible explanation of the recent increase in odd dealings within our region. It may explain Hyltir’s intrigue. He was always fascinated with magic. That’s why he loved the Floweress so much,” said Elunu.

“No. The chains will never be released. Those beings are prisoner to suffering for the rest of their days. The scrolls of Ena once said so,” replied a defiant man named Bulig. His mustache was so bushy that his mouth could not be seen. His voice had sounded defensive. The idea of Mekdah’s darkest powers traversing the realm was too haunting a picture for Bulig to entertain—and many others around the table as well.

“We are speaking of things that we shan’t worry about. Once the Floweress heals Emonu, then we will speak more of what is to become of her. Until then, steer clear of her when possible. We don’t know of the influence she possesses,” said Canu.

Just then, the door was flung wide open allowing a gust of wind to snap at the men’s faces briefly. It was Caroman, the Floweress standing at his side with her hood covering most of her face. She was wearing new green robes with neat designs of gold swirling all over it.

“I will heal your friend,” said Eshna.