As the dark elf neared the entrance, the guards immediately noticed him, wary gazes following him as he walked into the weathered building without any sign of fear. Inside the temple, dozens of tired refugees prayed to their preferred saints while the priests and priestesses held councils or healed those in need.

“Regis!” An excited yet gentle voice called out to the spell weaver before a soft body crashed into his embrace.

“I’m glad to see you too Lithia.” He said as the young priestess gave him a firm hug before releasing him.

“I was so relieved when Norma said that you and your friends came back to Hunor safely.”

“Sorry for not visiting you before, but these past weeks were quite hectic.”

“I’ve heard about it, lord Regis.” She said with a smile as she performed a small curtsy.

“It seems your sister did tell you about everything,” he coughed slightly as he watched the priestess show her formal respect. “How were you doing while we were away?”

“I’m sure you were told about the events that happened in your absence, so I won’t waste time on the details. These past days were truly hard on everyone, but I was safe and we all worked together to help the refugees who arrived almost every day.”

“I’m surprised that they kept coming for so long.”

“Most of them arrived on small boats and ships, but they soon filled Hunor to the brim once more. Then the thing with the Exiled Court made things even worse. The only good thing that came of that was Khan managing to escape from those demon worshippers.

“Norma did mention that she met him briefly before he left Hunor with a group of his own, but that’s it.”

“He was in really bad shape when they brought him in,” Lithia began to explain as the two sat down on a nearby bench. “A family called the Argents held him in prison and they weren’t gentle about it.”

“Did he mention how he got away?”

“It was one of the Argents,” the priestess nodded with a smile. “He was freed by a young dark elf woman who was tasked with bringing him food from time to time. Khan told me that once she managed to sneak him out, they ran into a few other outlanders and they helped bring him over here. By the time he was healed, the city lord had a falling out with the Exiled Court. Things were getting worse by the hour, so he and his newfound friends left in a hurry to not get caught by the furious dark elves.”

“I see,” Regis sighed as he listened to his former comrade's story. “At least he’s not alone. We were already planning to leave East Fork when we found out that the Khan that was travelling with us was a shapeshifting imposter.”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

“Only that bastard. Quentin took it quite badly though. Although he won’t admit it, he’s been blaming himself for not noticing it sooner ever since. I’m sure he’ll be relieved to hear that Khan got away fine.”

“When I heard that we had a dark elf visitor,” an aged voice resounded from behind them. “I was expecting trouble, not a heartfelt chatter.”

“Father Steon,” the spell weaver stood up immediately to give a slight bow to the elderly priest. “I’m glad to see that you’re in fine health.”

“I’m also glad to see that you're doing well for yourself young Regis. Lithia was quite worried about you and your companions in the past weeks.”

His words made the young priestess blush a little, but his following speech made her eyes pop wide.

“Norma mentioned that you have become a landed noble, recruiting people for your fiefdom. Is that right?”

“Yes, although it’s quite a new thing to me.”

“I see. I’m glad to hear that you’re willing to give home to those in need of it and I’m even more relieved that you came to ask our people to establish a temple at your domain. In times like these, people need somewhere to turn to with their worries. And I’m sure that young Lithia will make an excellent head priestess.”

“Father Steon,” she jumped up from the bench practically squeaking. “Regis didn’t come here to invite me to his land.”

“But your sister said...” The old priest looked at the two confused.

“She said that the members of the ninth guard squad were invited to join his village and that he made a passing remark about a possible future temple, but nothing more.”

“Oh,” the elderly man sighed. “Then forgive me for my hasty assumptions.”

“You’re not wrong about it,” Regis admitted. “While I mainly came here for a friendly visit and to pray at Avenar’s shrine. I did want to ask her about the matter, albeit a bit more subtly.”

“You... did?” Lithia looked at him surprised.

“The new villagers could use some spiritual guidance and you’re the only one I know besides Father Steon. I can’t promise anything fancy though, since we’re yet to build anything resembling a chapel.”

“It is the intent that matters, not how lavish the result will be.” Father Steon said with a serious tone.

“This is all so sudden,” the priestess muttered. “I did think about the possibility, but to leave the church and the others...”

“You would not be leaving us, but merely bring our teachings to a new community,” the aged priest sighed. “You will always be welcome here. I am sure that our young friend….”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Father,” one of the guards from the entrance appeared beside the man, bending closer with his voice lowered. “Lord Verhen and his guards are heading towards the temple.”

As he said that, the temple guard briefly looked at Regis.

“It can’t be a coincidence that they showed up after you arrived.” Steon said with an obvious worry in his tone.

Before anyone could say anything else, a lavishly dressed man entered the temple, surrounded by several steel armour wearing soldiers.

“We have come to assist in your effort to defeat the dark elf that intruded into the temple of the… Seven.” The leader of the guards stated, his words haltered by the confusion that took hold of him.

The vicious demon worshipper they came to hunt down was standing beside the local head priest and a few others in a seemingly amicable atmosphere.

“There are no intruders here,” Father Steon spoke with a gentle yet firm voice. “Only a friend and local hero who returned for a visit.”

“You,” Verhen muttered as he looked at the dark elf with his runic armour and staff. “I know you. You were the one to call my son a coward.”

The nobleman’s face turned from dignified and righteous to a scowling and spiteful one.

“When I heard that a dark elf was walking about in Hunor, taking away my people and causing trouble, I wanted to see who they were. Now I see. Arrest him!”

“On what ground?” Regis asked calmly yet firmly as he looked at Verhen while the nobleman’s soldiers moved to surround him.

“On the ground of attacking my guards, disturbing the peace and kidnapping my people.”

“Lord Verhen that’s…” Father Steon tried to intervene, but the man waved him to silence.

“This is a matter of security.”

“More like a matter of bullshit!” An angry voice spoke up from behind the nobleman and his soldiers.

As they turned around to look for the source of the voice they found Amanda and Quentin standing at the door along with the entire ninth guard squad. The one noticeable difference compared to the other guards was the armour they wore. It was made up of slightly mismatched and worse-for-wear equipment that didn't have house Verhen’s symbol on it.

“What is the meaning of this?” Verhen asked as he watched the group walk towards him, instinctively taking a step back.

“It means that you stepped over the line,” a soft yet authoritative voice answered as Chera, his mage advisor appeared from the crowd. “Lord Thorne is here to recruit refugees according to the royal decree regarding the resettling of free people.”

“That decree regards free people, these are...”

“Refugees who have yet to bend the knee to you and have not been given land yet,” Regis spoke up, earning a death glare from the man. “As for the matter with your soldiers; I believe that me not raising a blade against them even though they tried to unlawfully arrest a nobleman is more than cordial towards you.”

“You... dare?”

“I believe it’s best for everyone,” Quentin’s somewhat strained tone resounded in the temple. "If we all stay calm. We are simply here to recruit people, not to cause trouble.”

“Agreed.” The dark elf nodded.

“And while we’re talking about recruitment,” Chera spoke up once again. “Captain Grego and his troop have already handed in their equipment and their resignation. And so did I.”

“What?” The nobleman snapped at them with a growl. “After everything I've done for you? All of you?”

“With all due respect, sir,” Grego sighed. “We have more than repaid you for everything throughout the time Hunor was under siege. However, we swore to protect the people, not to oppress them. Young Regis here offered us a fresh start at a new settlement and we have decided to accept his offer.”

“As for me,” Chera looked at the spell weaver. “Grego was kind enough to inform me that a guild leader position had become vacant in East Fork, so I’ll have to impose on Sir Thorne to take me there if possible. I find the thought of teaching the next generation to be of utmost importance, especially with all that happened. I’m sure that Salvador will be able to suggest a capable replacement.”

Although Regis could only see the man’s back, the slight shaking and his strained stance spoke volumes of Verhen’s fury. He was sure that the only reason the man hasn’t begun to yell and scream in outrage was due to him still trying to cling to his dignified noble appearance.

“So be it,” the man growled between gritted teeth. “From today onwards all of you are relieved of your duties and banished from Hunor. Go wherever fate takes you.”

Saying that he turned back towards the dark elf with a venomous glare.

“Next time you decide to visit, sir Thorne,” he said the name with enough venom to kill everyone in the room, twice over. “Please send a notice three days prior so I can host you accordingly.”

“Will do, sir Verhen.” Regis answered cordially while giving a slight nod to the man, earning a visible shiver of rage from him.

“Regis,” he heard an aged voice from the side as Father Steon patted him on the back. “It was good to see you again young friend and please do take care of our precious Lithia.”

“I... will.” The dark elf stuttered as he only just noticed that the young priestess was standing there with her belongings already packed.

“We should get going,” Quentin broke the awkward atmosphere. “We shouldn’t overstay our welcome.”

“I think we long overdone that.” Amanda remarked as the sizeable group left the church under the death glare of Verhen and his guards.

“You handled yourself quite well.” The paladin said to his friend while walking out of the building.

“Yeah, I thought you’d go full-on edge lord again.” The half-giant blacksmith snickered.

“I’m trying to control whatever… anger issues I might have.”

“Are you alright lad?” Grego asked as they walked through the street.

“I am now,” the dark elf sighed. “I was getting worried there for a moment. Verhen seemed quite hell-bent on getting me arrested.”

“He’s falling further each day,” Chera noted with a downcast gaze. “I wish that I could say it’s due to his son’s death, but it’s been slowly happening over a long while now.”

“Is that why you decided to leave?” Regis asked the woman, earning a slight nod.

“I won’t advise a man who won’t listen. Luckily for me, Grego and the others returned to the manor to resign from their service. I decided to do the same when he mentioned hearing from young Quentin that the guild in East Fork lost its leader.”

“It did,” Quentin nodded. “Only elder Derris lives there with a couple of young apprentices.”

“Elder Derris?”

“He’s an old scholar the previous leader kept there. He might not be a spell caster, but he’s very well-versed in theoretical knowledge and knows his way around the library. I hope that you will treat him well, lady Chera.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” the woman looked at the paladin surprised. “I’ll likely have to lean on him greatly until I get familiar with the place and it’s always nice to have someone experienced to have around.”

“Sir Quentin,” a somewhat creaky voice broke the conversation as they reached the edge of the market district. “We were getting worried when you left so hurriedly.”

“Everything’s fine,” the paladin stated. “We just had a run-in with the local lord. Anyway; since we’re already here, we might as well get the introductions out of the way while walking.”

“Ladies first.” A young yet well-mannered man said, letting the two other members of the small group go first.”

“Oh,” the young woman who called out to Quentin first coughed slightly. “In that case, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nina Marchant and I volunteered for the merchant representative position Sir Quentin tried to find people for.

“Nina Marchant?” Regis asked back with a slight chuckle.

“Is something wrong milord?” The woman looked at him both surprised and shocked by his strange reaction to her name.

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just that your name pretty much means merchant in French.”

“French?”

“It’s one of the languages of Earth. I guess it’s an influence from an older outlander cycle. Either way, it’s nice to meet you, Nina. Tell me; what exactly makes you believe that you’re qualified for the position? It’s a big job after all with a lot of authority and responsibility.”

“Well,” the young woman hummed before going silent for a short while. “I was born and raised in a merchant family in Harmarond. A small, but successful one, at least until a month or so before the war and the demons that is. I’m also a shardwaker and a professed merchant and mediator with a bit of fighting experience to boot. My greatest achievement would be…”

“Oy,” a crude and raspy voice interrupted Nina’s explanation as a mud brown-haired man walked closer.

“Don’t believe her talks, your lordship,” the man said as he looked at Nina. “That wench is from a fallen house and is a good for nothing like the rest of them. She just pushed ahead the rest of us actual merchants to get out of Hunor.”