Alvar was in Durkan looping up his ropes and tending to his ship while he listened to the latest topics of conversation around the dock.

“There’s been a big explosion just south of the ice fields, the flames still burn like the sun itself is burning up. The men are afraid to go anywhere near it, they believe what caused it could be attracting Mawon to it,” Came one man who was buying imported goods.

“There’s been another shaft collapse at the mine owned by Vallabhadev and Khavand. That place is a death trap I tell you, he’s going to be spending a lot of time in Cirrom buying more slaves in the future. Just you watch,” A woman gossiped loudly. Alvar dismissed these as normal occurrences in a land raged by harsh climates and unforgiving work. However, something did seem odd, especially about the explosion and the flames. Alvar couldn’t pinpoint it but something in his gut told him that it wasn’t right. That night in a rented tavern room Alvar lay awake, unable to shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right. Half an hour later the tavern building began to shake and roaring could be heard echoing around the buildings. The noise was faint and distant, yet it was powerful. Alvar rushed outside just as it faded away and looked in the direction he had heard it from. The street around him filled with chaos, crowded by people woken by the noise. Alvar started to make his way through the crowds to find the source, but he was stopped by a man who took hold of his upper arm,

“Alvar Avery, come with me.” The man said in a tone that was not threatening, but instead, it was a mixture of urgency and worry. He led Alvar down an alleyway that weaved its way through the buildings. After twisting and turning through the darkness they were met by a hefty figure. His beard hid most of his face in the dim light.

“Commander Avery,” The bearded man began, “I trust you are the experienced Giant capturer that people say you are.”

“That is one of my titles and yes I have much experience,” Alvar replied. “Why am I here?” He asked.

“Two Giants.” The man replied simply. Alvar realised that this man was the master and owner of The Mieczyslaw Arena. “They have escaped from their cells, as you heard. I need you to find them. Bring them to me alive or bring me their heads. It’s up to you. Take my men and when you return you shall be richly rewarded. I trust that we understand each other?” The owner asked him.

“Entirely,” Came Alvar’s reply. “You have put your trust in the right person. Which way did they head?”

“East towards the ice fields,” Came the owner’s reply. “My men will await you by the eastern armoury,” Alvar simply nodded before he turned and left them, heading back to the tavern.

Alvar found Varun and Venor before heading to the armoury where sixty men were awaiting him with five large wagons and enough weaponry to take out an army.

“We head Eastwards!” Alvar commanded them loudly and the men moved to the wagons. The selection of twenty men whom Alvar had brought with him also headed for the wagons. With all five wagons filled with around fifteen men each and Alvar in the front wagon, they headed towards the Eastern horizon.