Art was not entirely sure why she had dreamt that dream. It had been over a decade since she met Morgan and took the child on as her squire. While that afternoon had been interesting and memorable, it was not one she had particular looked back on in her over 200 years of existence.

The fire of their camp had faded to a small ember. Sitting up from her bedroll, she reached lazily for the pile of timber set aside her and tossed a small broken log into the licking heat. She watched in the dark as the wood slowly caught fire, awaiting patiently for the moment she would have warmth once more.

‟Trouble sssleeing?” Lands Lord spoke from opposite her, his form slowly taking place in the growing glow of flames.

Art nearly summoned her sword but managed to refrain from doing so. She was still not comfortable around the lizardkin. Their quiet breathing and silent nature crept up her skin.

She nonetheless replied, ‟Not something I want to hear from someone wide awake.”

‟My apologiesss. I'm accussstomed to being awake and asssleep in periodic shiftsss. Living in a nomadic tribe, it isss a requirement.”

Behind them through the path cut into the trees was the city of Wendereight, one of the three major settlements of the Tinderland Consolidates that sat next to one of the three great lakes - the North Harnt. It was a gentle uphill journey at the edge of their horizon that let to the settlement, two towers standing prominently from its centre, guarding the keep, which lights were always on. In the backdrop of night, they looked like stars. Somewhere through the thick of trees to their north was the great lake. The scent of clear water wafted through the air on a breeze, and the white noise sloshing of waves could be heard.

The log in the fire cracked as a spit of flame broke through the inner lining of the wood. A burst of sparks jumped out from the interaction, momentarily flashing bright between the two travellers who sat in mutual silence.

Lands Lord broke the silence. ‟You hate me.”

‟I'm sorry?” Art asked, sure she must have misheard.

‟I think,” Lands Lord clarified, ‟You hate me.”

‟I barely know you.”

‟You hate my people, then.” The lizardkin countered directly. ‟Maybe not me, but definitely my people.”

‟You aren't easy to appreciate. You're one of the only two races on Tearha that doesn't breed interspecies. Even then, the drakins have an alloparental culture. Don't you abandon your young?”

‟In the passst,” Lands Lord admitted, his head dropping in shame. ‟We were a... tribal speciesss. But no longer.”

‟Hmm...” Art mused. Her mind wandered to her past. She questioned if her dream had made her reminiscent. ‟Do you want to know what happened to me during the first war?”

The lizardkin looked at her, slightly confused at her train of conversation. A look of uncertainty rested across his face as he pondered on the thought of continuing the topic. Then, he nodded his head.

Art stared at the fire, flames licking across her eyes in the dark. ‟We still don't know how many gods came upon us in those early days. Some say half a dozen, others estimate hundreds. There were even rumours that the Titan War in Katoki was caused by the god of war. But I was happy. Content that my family was safe, and that Tinderland seemed to have been spared. Then your kin showed up.”

Lands Lord muttered under his breath, ‟The Great Betrayal.”

‟My father and mother were rangers, tasked with keeping the forest your kind lived in safe. And your ancestors stabbed them in the back.”

He shook his head mournfully. ‟That'sss not who we are now. We are different people from the onesss before.”

‟When we ended the slave trade, we recompensed all the enslaved for the harm our forebearers caused,” Art reasoned, her stare never leaving Lands Lord. ‟I see no reason it should not work the other way. The crimes that your people committed rhymes in what you have to pay.”

The lizardkin looked downtrodden. ‟You do not sssupport reunification.”

‟Very much so.” She leaned back and gave her sore neck a good crack. ‟But I am no diplomat. I make not the rules, nor pass the judgement, and am merely a sword of the law, held by my queen. I am not the one you have to make your case to.” She then got to her feet and stretched.

Lands Lord sighed. ‟No, you are the key barricade to hurdle.” He then reached for his lance which laid beside him. A sweep of his tail kicking up dew from the grass that sizzled onto the fire, he got up as well, weapon in hand. ‟You are the victim, and the hero. The passst, the presssent, and the future. You hold sssway with your people, and your wordsss are power. Without your acceptance, there can be no peace.”

‟Shame,” Art noted. She held her hand out and in a flash of light, summoning her greatsword. ‟It was such a peaceful night, and we were so close to the city too.”

‟Indeed.” Lands Lord readied his lance in her direction just as she notched him into her sword's sight.

She rushed forward, her giant sword dragging at her side as Lands Lord locked his weapon into place. She jumped onto the tip of the lance and the lizardkin lifted, throwing her over his head with a battle roar.

The bandit behind the lizardkin screamed in terror at the unexpected greatsword that flashed a flicker of the campfire's flame, now bearing down with its full weight. Without mercy, Art cut down against their attacker, bifurcating the bandit's arm before crushing the body into the ground with the weapon's entire mass.

When she looked back, the lizardkin had already slithered past the fire, weaving dancing shadows before the flame as arrows whistled pass him. Like a snake huntingin tall grass, his lance struck straight, sinking its pointed fang into an archer that hid in the dark.

As Lands Lord dealt with another shadowy assailant, a glow from the peripherals of her vision snapped Art back to the fight. A swordsman's sword lit up in arcs of electricity. The electromancer charged, their shock weapon raised for an attack. She managed to parry with the broad of her sword, but the electricity arc from her opponent's blade and onto her hand. Luckily, the shock was not overpowering, and she managed to slide a step back, bend her body low, and spun.

Her oversized weapon was not one that required much aim, and on the back swing, the sword's reach and width at such a close range with her speed meant little chance of dodging. The blade cleaved into the electromancer's body and she heard the cracking of bones as steel met spine. Blood splashed violently, as the remaining force of the attack threw the bandit off their feet, flinging them into a tree. The lifeless body slammed into the trunk before dropping as a rag-doll onto the ground, back bent unnaturally.

‟Aren't you a violent one.”

She turned to see Lands Lord dragging the unconscious body of a second archer out of the dark.

Art asked, ‟You left him alive?”

‟I am not judge, jury, or executioner. Nor am I an arm of the law. If livesss can be spared, I sssee to no reason not to.” The Lizardkin tossed the bandit unceremoniously to the ground between them. ‟What do we do about him?”

Art stepped forward unto to the bandit. Emotionless, she raised the tip of her great sword over the evil doer's neck. With a strong push, she dropped the blade and decapitated the man. Lands Lord watched on with an unreadable, pensive expression.

Art answered, ‟You may not be it, but I am the arm of the law.”

Lands Lord shifted his tone to melancholy. ‟Are there usually banditsss near your major citiesss?”

‟No,” Art answered. ‟The guards should be patrolling. Perhaps something has happened.”

The lizardkin's eyes were still on the recently headless when he replied, ‟Maybe we should move on and sssee what your world hasss in ssstored.”