An Iron Fist

by Splattifying Agent 2

Olberic and the party arrive in Riverford, intent on defeating Werner. Unfortunately for them, everything is exactly as it seems. Spoilers for Olberic's chapter 4.

1. Stolen Dreams, Lost Light

[A/N] Yep, I did it. Finally bit the bullet because oh my god I love this game so much

Chapter retelling isn't exactly original, so I've taken some liberties with what happens in-game. I hope it's not too edgy, but the main things I've changed are Riverford's population and what Werner actually does in-game vs. in-story. Whether or not it's in-character is for you to decide.

Obviously, we've got some spoilers for Olberic's chapter 4, but there's also some spoilers for Primrose's chapters 3 and 4. Or maybe just chapter 3, I dunno. Technically, there's also location spoilers for some other chapters, but it's not that big of a deal, right? Right.

"Another round here!"

The barman set a tray down with eight drinks - several different drinks, as a matter of fact. He'd gotten used to their personal favourites after the group stayed in town as long as they had. Alfyn leapt up to grab them the moment the tray hit the bar, and returned to the table the travelers were sitting around.

"Careful where you're swinging that," Therion grunted, snatching up his drink. "You almost spilled the whole damn tray."

"Ah, c'mon, Therion, you grump!" Alfyn said with a grin. "You know I wouldn't do that to you." Just to rub in the point, he balled one hand in a fist, pulled Therion into a headlock, and roughly rubbed at his head with his knuckles.

The thief struggled against him, and replaced his mussed-up hair when it was done. He looked to be coming up with some manner of retribution when Tressa said "c'mon, stop messing around and help me with the map!"

Alfyn grinned, seemingly proud of himself, and dutifully held down his corner of the map of Orsterra. It took up nearly the entire table.

Tressa looked around at the other travelers. Everyone was taking a look at the map. Cyrus was the first to speak, taking a feathered quill out of his pocket and using it as a pointer.

"I've taken the liberty of marking the towns where we each have business," he explained. He pointed out a few - Everhold, Goldshore, Wellspring. "I daresay this will make the creation of a solid path much easier."

"Good going, Professor!" Tressa said enthusiastically. "So out of those places, it looks like the closest is-"

"Riverford."

Everyone's faces turned to Olberic, whose eyes were focused on the little dot marked with the town's name. Just underneath it was his own name. He raised one finger and placed it on the dot as he took a swig from his drink. "Riverford," he repeated, "is our closest objective."

H'aanit frowned, looking closer. "There is no roade that leadeth from here to Riverford. We woulde have to taketh a differente path." She took another look about the map. "Something less than two days, by mine best guess."

Therion took another look. "And it would take about the same length of time to go back to Wellspring." He scowled at the thought. "Wish Heathcote told me about that one sooner..."

Olberic's face was hardened, almost angry, as he stared at the map. It took him a moment to look back at the group, expression softening. "Forgive me. I lost myself."

There was silence among them then, before Primrose broke it. "Let's put it to a vote, shall we?" she asked smoothly. "All in favor of returning to Wellspring."

Therion raised his hand to shoulder height immediately. He looked around the table at his compatriots and rolled his eyes again, but didn't look too displeased.

"And all in favor of moving on to Riverford?" Primrose asked.

Her own hand was the first in the air. Tressa's followed soon after, and Cyrus, Alfyn, and H'aanit came after that. Ophilia and Olberic did not move their hands, but Olberic looked at the group in slight surprise.

"That settles it," Primrose said decisively, aiming an award-winning smile in Olberic's direction. "Riverford it is."

The knight's face was set in a small grin. It looked like he was trying his hardest to stop smiling, and failing miserably. "Everyone, I... you all have my eternal gratitude."

"That settles it, then," Tressa said brightly. "We pack up for Riverford first thing in the morning."

And with that, she rolled up the map, and the meeting adjourned.

{asterisks}

The group of eight left Saintsbridge behind the next day. Tressa had the map in her hands as they did, and it almost completely obscured her face.

"Okay, so..." she began, staring hard at the path. "It looks like we'll be going past Clearbrook and Quarrycrest to get around to Riverford." She frowned. "It's like a big circle from here."

"But it's just a walk, right?" Ophilia asked. "We've been spending so much time lately in a hurry to get someplace or another. It'll be nice to just slow down and take things at our leisure."

Tressa rolled the map up again and stuck it in her backpack. "Yup!" she said happily. "Especially after all that running around in that forest. Ugh, my feet were killing me after that was done."

The merchant was so busy talking that she didn't notice the red-haired man the group was about to pass, somewhat hidden in the trees. There was a hungry look in his eye. Olberic fixed him with a glare that said "think again," and the man caught his eye and disappeared into the brush.

"And it'll be wonderful to see a new town again," Ophilia added. "We already spent six days in Saintsbridge..."

"Yeah, only because Therion got drunk and tried to rob the wrong guy," Alfyn joked.

The thief's face turned bright red. "How was I supposed to know he was a Knight Ardante?!"

"The uniform, the armor, the sword on his hip, the fact that he was right outside the cathedral..." Alfyn supplied automatically. Therion responded with a very rude gesture, which got a snort of laughter out of Tressa and a smack upside the head from Primrose.

The group passed through the Saintsbridge traverse and arrived in Clearbrook territory soon after. Tressa took the map back out every once in a while, making sure to point them in the right direction at each fork in the road. They passed through the Cliftlands as well, and got about halfway between the roads to Quarrycrest and Orewell before the group decided to stop for the night.

This was a routine that they'd grown used to by now, whenever they had to camp outside of a town. H'aanit and Therion would go hunting, Tressa and Cyrus would set up the campfire, and Olberic, Primrose, Alfyn, and Ophilia would work on the tents.

Once H'aanit and Therion had returned with that night's meal (some Birdian meat, which would be paired with some fruits left over from Saintsbridge), the group of eight gathered around the fire and dug in. For a while, there was no sound except the crackle of the fire and the quiet noises of chewing. Olberic eventually broke the silence.

"Have any of you ever been to Riverford?" he asked. The question was posed to the group at large, but he was looking at Therion when he asked it.

The thief was busy eating, and didn't reply right away. Once he was done with the food in his mouth, he spoke. "Nope, never been. Heard it was too poor to steal from. Too much risk, not enough reward."

Olberic chewed his meat in thought. "What else have you heard?"

Therion closed his eyes in thought, remembering. "It's not in very good shape, that's for sure. The ruling lord's oppressive and deals punishment for little mistakes. The people live in fear. Travelers get taxed on the way in and have to give an arm and a leg to leave. The guards keep watch on all the citizens and don't let them leave the town at all." He paused. "So it sounds like we might have more than one job to do, right, big guy?"

The group was quiet at this information, but Olberic nodded, seemingly unshaken. "I cannot stand by in a situation like this. Can I count on your aid, my friends?"

There was a chorus of assent, and the conversation was once again replaced with the quiet sounds of chewing.

The fire died down soon enough, and the night's meal ended as the flames flickered into embers. Tressa stretched and sighed. "Phew, I'm beat," she said. "Time to turn in. Night, all."

"I think I'll join you," Primrose said, rising as well. "See you all in the morning."

The merchant and the dancer retired to their tent. The rest of the travelers left in pairs to their own tents - Ophilia and H'aanit, Alfyn and Therion. Cyrus had left on his own, since Olberic, his bunkmate, was taking the first watch.

The warrior prodded the remains of the fire with his sword, and made a small stack of leftover twigs to try and coax it back to life. For now, it seemed to stay where it was, and he was content with that. It was enough light to see by, but not so much that another party would see them from a great distance. He watched the flickering flames, deep in thought.

An oppressive rule. People in fear. Of course, Olberic couldn't live with himself if he allowed such things to continue. He fully intended to put a stop to it while he searched for Werner. Still, he knew that things were hardly ever that simple. There would definitely be some manner of... complications further down the line.

He sighed. Best not to think about that. He had two tasks to focus on now - freeing the townspeople, and exacting justice on Werner. He could deal with the consequences later.

Fabric rustled behind him as someone poked her head out of her tent. He didn't turn. He knew who it was. This wasn't the first time it had happened.

"Trouble sleeping, Primrose?"

The dancer smiled to herself, crawling out of the tent and sitting next to him by the fire. "You might say that," she replied.

He looked at her with a gentle smile. "Yes, it seems to be a common occurrence. Is it Tressa? Would you prefer a new bunkmate?"

She waved off the thought. "Tressa is an angel. That couldn't be further from the truth." She hesitated, watching the flames. "I believe you know what the problem is. You've had it before."

"Nightmares," he rumbled. "About your own situation, I would wager."

She nodded solemnly.

"You don't have to talk, Primrose," Olberic reassured softly. "Cyrus told me about Simeon."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she sighed. "I suppose I couldn't expect it to stay a secret."

Olberic shook his head. "I believe I am the only one he informed. He let it slip by accident, actually. He assumed that I'd come to the same conclusion he had."

Oh. Cyrus had actually spoken to Primrose the first time he'd seen her with Simeon, and his hunch was right on the money. She'd thought she'd dissuaded him from discussing it further, but it seemed she was wrong on that score.

"You understand, then?" Primrose asked.

"Yes," the warrior responded with a nod. He spoke a bit slower than usual now, as if choosing his words carefully. "I know how much more difficult it becomes when the sin is attached to the face of a loved one. I understand where you must stand... although I've no doubts of your strength. I know you will do what you need to when the time comes." He paused. "I've never been gifted when it comes to words of encouragement, but... just know that I have faith in you. And that faith shall be your shield."

A smile tugged at the corners of Primrose's mouth. "Is that right?"

"And if need be, so shall I," he added. "I will stand with you to the end, Primrose. You, and everyone else."

She tucked her knees into her chest, and the smile came out fully this time. "Thank you, Olberic. You're a good man."

He looked back into the fire, and poked it with his sword again. "You flatter me."

There was silence for about a minute. "You're wrong about one thing, though," she told him.

He raised one eyebrow. "A common weakness. What would that be?"

"Simeon meaning what he did to me... doesn't make it more difficult," Primrose continued, her voice hardening. "The opposite, in fact."

"The opposite?"

"Simeon was close to me for a long time, Olberic," she said. "I know you understand that. But he manipulated me, betrayed me, and murdered my father. And gave me this." She lowered her legs, revealing the scar that marred her stomach, and Olberic winced.

"To know that I used to feel as I did about him makes it so much easier, Olberic," she continued, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the flames. "Because I can think of every moment I spent with him, how he used it for his own benefit, and the look in his eyes when he betrayed me - and it will give me strength as I plunge my dagger into his chest."

Olberic was silent at that, instead choosing to pick up another few twigs and throw them onto the flames. They burned a little brighter. But they couldn't match the fire in Primrose's eyes.

There was no noise between them except for the quiet crackle of the flames. A few minutes later, the dancer spoke again.

"I'm sorry, Olberic," she said. "Here we are, on our way with you to face your demons... and I'm burdening you with mine."

He shook his head. "It is a burden that I am more than willing to bear, if it would make yours lighter."

Primrose smiled, and sighed. "You're much too selfless for your own good, you know. Some women might find that attractive."

Unshaken, Olberic smiled back. "It is in my nature. I help those in need. On my honor as a knight, until I draw my final breath, I intend to keep it that way."

She shook her head with a chuckle, and threw her arms around him. Her bare skin connected with the warm fabric of his tunic, and under that, the cold steel of his armor.

That seemed to fluster him a little more, and he hesitated before very awkwardly and mechanically placing one hand around her shoulder. She grinned.

"I still think about it sometimes, you know," she whispered, just barely audible to him. "The day we met. The day I escaped Helgenish. It was just you and me, then."

"Yes, it was," Olberic replied, reminiscing a little himself.

"I'll be honest with you, Olberic..." Primrose said. "I'm not sure I could've done it myself."

Now it was Olberic's turn to laugh. It was a deep, hearty one, a laugh that she never found herself tiring of.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't understand how you could think that," he chuckled. "You just may be the strongest person I know, Primrose. Your determination alone could've bested Helgenish that day. I was but a witness." He turned to look right into her green eyes. "You had no problem then, and you will have no problem in the coming days. I am certain of it."

She looked back into his own stormy grey eyes, feeling a sense of comfort in them. She also noticed something else.

"Thank you, Olberic. But I think it's time for you to go to sleep."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because your eyes are already closing."

The warrior blinked. "I see... well, alright. I suppose it couldn't hurt."

She giggled softly. "Sleep, Olberic. I'll take watch until morning."

He opened his tent flap. "Good night, Primrose."

"Night, Olberic," she replied. "And thank you."

He smiled to himself, settled on his bedspread, and soon fell into the clutches of sleep.

{asterisks}

They packed up the next day, and continued their journey. Over time, the harsh cliffs and jagged rocks of the Cliftlands gave way to the natural life of the Riverlands once again.

The path to Riverford felt different, however. It was as if a haze had fallen over the area. Dead trees, jagged and foreboding, dotted the landscape, very visible against the lush greenery that was usually found in the region. The water that flowed alongside them was murky, and hostile wildlife seemed to jump out at the group more often than it did near Clearbrook or Saintsbridge.

"I don't like this," Therion said, replacing his dagger on his belt. "There's something wrong going on around here."

"I sense the same thing," H'aanit said. "Doth thou not smell it?"

"Smell?" asked Tressa.

"Smoke," H'aanit replied gravely.

"And where there's smoke, there's fire," Cyrus murmured. "I can smell it too."

Alfyn gulped, then spoke as well. "Hey, it's nothing to worry about, right? I mean... torches make smoke. And there's a good breeze goin' here. Enough of those, and we could be smellin' that."

His normally upbeat voice shook a little. It sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.

"Perhaps," H'aanit said, but she didn't seem to believe it.

"There's no way to find out until we locate the source," Cyrus said decisively. "Let's press on."

The group murmured their assent, and they continued on the road, but there was a sense of foreboding in the air. Olberic recognized the shiver that went down his spine. It happened on that fateful day eight years ago, and now it was happening again.

Death would await them in Riverford. He didn't know if it was one of the group, or someone else, but he knew. Before their business in Riverford was finished, someone would lose their life.

The sun was high in the sky when they saw the gates to Riverford. Like Therion had said, there were two guards standing there, and a short line as well. The group of eight stood huddled behind a rock formation, out of sight to anyone in the town's limits.

"So how do we get in?" Alfyn said.

"Easy," Therion replied immediately. "A group of eight looks suspicious, especially going into a town like that, so we split into pairs. Everyone takes a portion of our leaves to pay off the guard. When we get inside, we can stick to the pairs and get information from the townspeople, but we probably shouldn't talk to each other too much."

"It's almost like you've done this before," Primrose said dryly.

Therion shot her a smirk before going back to his explanation. "We'll have to be discreet about everything, understand? Place like that, it'll have guards all over the place. So the best way to share information among ourselves will be keeping the conversation short and sweet as we walk around town. Maybe we'll eventually get to meet up in the tavern or something and discuss everything further, but for now, that's too risky. Big groups are threatening to any regime."

The group muttered in agreement, and the pairs were soon made - Olberic and Primrose, Cyrus and Tressa, Alfyn and H'aanit, Therion and Ophilia.

"You'll be up first, right, Olberic?" Therion asked. He nodded. "Alright. Whoever's next, wait a few minutes before heading out there so it doesn't look like you're together." He was silent for a minute. "I think that's all the advice I can give."

The warrior looked at the group around him - somewhat apprehensive, but there was a steely determination in their eyes. "Thank you, my friends," he said, looking at each one in turn. "Thank you for staying with me on this path. Good luck." He hesitated a second, but decided there was nothing more to say, so he looked at Primrose, who was currently clinging to his side. "Shall we?"

She nodded, and Olberic looked at the group one more time before confidently strolling out toward the town gate.

"Put your arm around me," Primrose hissed immediately.

"What?"

"Do it," she ordered. "We'll look like a couple. Less suspicious."

The warrior obliged, placing one stiff arm around Primrose's shoulders as they got in line.

Luckily for them, it wasn't very long. The man at the far end was soon admitted, and the pair stepped forward, just behind the only other person in line.

Olberic felt Primrose turn, and saw Cyrus and Tressa standing behind them. Primrose aimed a discreet smile at the young merchant, who was looking unsettled, and the warrior caught her smiling back before his eyes snapped ahead once more.

The guard on the left sized him up, and Olberic nearly laughed, despite himself. The man carried himself with a false air of authority that anyone could've seen through - he was a head shorter than Olberic at least, and built more thinly. The guard on the right, on the other hand, just looked him in the eye.

"Got your fee?" he asked. Olberic reached into his pack with his free hand, and pulled out a little sack of leaves. The guard's eyes lit up.

"Of course," Olberic said. The guard swiped the sack out of his hand, opened it, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Thank you, sir," he said. Olberic was about to enter the town, but the guard grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Yes?" the warrior asked. He put on the best facade of annoyance that he could muster.

The guard looked him dead in the eye. "Apologies, sir," he said, never breaking eye contact. "I just wanted to give you a piece of advice. Keep an eye on your lady friend."

Olberic quirked an eyebrow. "I believe she can take care of herself." He tried again, but the guard didn't let go of his arm.

"I mean it, sir," the guard said again. "Watch yourself." He didn't stop looking Olberic in the eye. He seemed to be giving him a clue of some sort.

The warrior nodded, and the guard finally relented as Olberic stepped into the town's boundaries.

The first thing he noticed was the roaring fire off to one side. As the townspeople walked around, going about their daily business, they would occasionally toss something into the flame; worthless trinkets, mostly. A guard stood by next to a large pile of wood, presumably for fuel. Next to that, a large barrel filled with torches.

Olberic kept his face as blank as he possibly could, but his eyes darted in several directions, taking everything in. The townspeople gave him calculating looks as they passed by, and most gave him and Primrose a wide berth.

"Olberic," she whispered. Her voice was strained. He looked at her, but her eyes were elsewhere. He followed her gaze to the middle of the town square.

There were four wooden stakes there, ten feet tall at least, with bundles of hay near the bottom of each one. The knight looked at them, expression unchanging, but his mind raced. He could only come up with a few purposes for the stakes, and none of them were good.

"Come, milady," he said, a little louder than he would've otherwise. "Lots to see."

He steered her away from the square, moving off toward a side path. He glanced back at Cyrus and Tressa, who had entered the town by now. The scholar was staring at the scenery with a look of concentration, and didn't seem to like it. Tressa said something to him - Olberic couldn't hear it from this distance - and he broke out of his reverie to reply.

The warrior looked away, and left for a side road. It seemed to lead to a residential area. There were less people around here, but more houses, and a little pier to their right. Olberic strode forward confidently, taking in the sights.

He felt a tug at his arm, and Primrose led him toward the pier. "Come, darling," she said. "Your feet must be weary. Let's have a seat."

They walked down the stairs toward the river that flowed through the town, and sat on the edge by the water.

"I don't like this," Primrose murmured. "I think there's more to this town than Therion knew."

"I must agree," Olberic replied. "Those stakes..."

Primrose looked at him with a worried expression. He knew that she was drawing the same conclusion as him.

"What do you think the fire was for?" she asked softly.

Olberic looked at the churning waters of the river. "Perhaps it's related to a faith system of this town," he said flatly. It was clear that he didn't believe his own words.

Primrose bit her lip. "Perhaps." She didn't believe him either.

"Let's not think about that. It's time we go looking for information about Werner." Olberic moved to stand. Primrose followed him, taking his hand.

He scanned the faces of the townspeople, and looked for one who might be willing to talk. It wasn't an easy task. They all looked quite wary of him.

Primrose, however, pointed one out; a young woman standing outside a house, craning her head as if looking for something. She looked rather friendly, so the pair walked over to talk to her.

"Excuse me," Primrose said, acting cordial. "Can you help us? We're rather new in town."

The young woman's eyes snapped to them with a start, but softened when she saw Primrose. "Of course," she said. "What can I do for you?"

Primrose gave Olberic a pointed look, and he leaned forward a little. The young woman seemed to shrink back, but she stood her ground. How admirable. "I'm looking for someone in this town," the warrior said, keeping his tone casual.

"Well, I can probably help you with that," the woman said, grinning a bit. "Pray tell me their name?"

"He goes by Werner, I believe."

The smile disappeared instantly. "W-what's your business with him?" She took a small step back.

Olberic lied through his teeth. "I'm an old friend of his, and heard he relocated to-"

As soon as the word 'friend' left the warrior's mouth, the young woman yelped, turning on her heel and darting into the closest house. Olberic blinked in surprise.

"What was that about?" Primrose asked. She looked as bewildered as he felt. "She looked like she saw a ghost."

"Perhaps Werner is not well liked here," Olberic noted.

Before they could look for someone else to ask, however, rapid footsteps sounded from behind them. Olberic turned just as a young man barrelled into him, falling to the ground with an "oof!"

Olberic held out one hand to help him up. "Here, friend. Are you alright?"

The young man took it, jumping up as fast as he could. He was about to reply when there was a voice behind him.

"Come on! He can't have gotten far!"

The young man swore under his breath, and gave Olberic a pleading look. "You never saw me, big man. 'Kay? I fear for me life if they catch me."

Olberic blinked, but nodded, and the young man darted into a nearby alleyway. A few seconds later, a pair of guards came into view, and approached the two of them.

"Oi!" one of them said. "Either of ye seen a guy run by here? Black hair, blue scarf?"

Primrose shook her head as Olberic stroked his chin, pretending to think. "I'm sorry, sir, we've seen nothing of the sort."

The guard leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Is that right, missy? Sure you're not pullin' me leg?"

Primrose nodded, staying polite, and batted her eyelashes for good measure. "Positive, Mister Guardsman."

"Don't gimme yer lip, woman," he growled. It wasn't nearly as threatening as he probably thought it sounded. "Tell me where 'e's hidin'."

Olberic's hand clamped on the guard's shoulder. The guard finally seemed to notice his presence. "We've seen nothing," he rumbled threateningly. "I urge you be on your way now, good sir."

The guard glared back up at Olberic. "Fine. But I'll be watchin' ye, ye big lug."

Seemingly satisfied, the guard and his partner walked off to check the pier. After a moment, Olberic turned his head toward the alleyway. "They've gone."

The young man, looking rather disheveled now that Olberic got a good look at him, poked his head out. "Phew... thanks, big man. You saved me life, you did."

Olberic shook his head. "Think nothing of it. Might I have the honour of your name?"

The young man laughed. "Don't get many men 'round here talkin' so nice, do we?" He stuck out his hand. "'m Reggie. And who'm I speakin' to?"

Olberic hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not to use a fake name again, but he figured it wouldn't be necessary. He shook Reggie's hand. "Olberic Eisenberg. This is my close friend."

She smiled, and offered her own hand. "Primrose. A pleasure."

Reggie looked positively giddy upon seeing Primrose, and seemed to fumble with himself for a moment before gently grasping her hand and laying a kiss on her fingers. The dancer nearly laughed at the man's enthusiasm.

"Pleasure to meet you both," Reggie said.

"Yes, it's good to see someone can smile in this town," Olberic agreed.

Reggie's grin grew a little, but turned sad. "Not for much longer, I'd wager," he said. "Today's... well. If yer new in town, I'd tell you to leave for today. It ain't a pretty sight."

Olberic sobered instantly. "Why is that?"

The smile disappeared completely now, and Reggie shuddered. "Today's the scheduled execution."

The warrior froze, stock-still. "Execution," he repeated without inflection.

"I wager you saw the pyre in the square," Reggie said. It wasn't a question.

"We did," Primrose confirmed. "That's what it's for?"

The young man nodded gravely. "You won't like it," he said. "I..." He looked about to say more, but cut himself off with a choking noise. "Gah... 'pologies, me friends. I... I've a 'ard time talking about it."

"I understand," Olberic replied immediately. "I've some questions for you anyway, Reggie."

The young man looked grateful. "Course. What d'you wanna know?"

"I'm looking for a man called Werner."

He was expecting a similar reaction to the woman they'd asked earlier, but Reggie just raised an eyebrow. "What's your business with Lord Werner?"

Olberic blinked, taken aback. Primrose stepped in. "Hang on. Lord Werner?"

Reggie nodded. "'e's the rulin' lord here. 'as been for a while now. 's why we're all livin' like this, innit?"

"Werner's responsible for this as well?!" Olberic said, probably a bit louder than he should've. It made Reggie grin.

"Sure is. Am I right in assumin' your business isn't friendly?"

Olberic nodded. "I've a score to settle with him."

Reggie chuckled. "Then I think you and me, we'll get along just fine, Mister Eisenberg." As he said this, he frowned, face twisting in thought. "'ang on. Olberic Eisenberg?"

"Yes," the warrior replied, waiting to see if he would be recognized.

Reggie seemed to think for another few seconds, then waved it off. "Ah, sorry. Thought I recognized the name. 'm sure it'll come back to me later."

Primrose grinned at the exchange.

"Anyway," Reggie continued. "There's somethin' I'll be needin' to talk to you 'bout later. Come back 'ere tomorrow morning, 'kay? Today... we won't have time."

Olberic nodded, hoping he was getting himself into something good. "Of course, friend. Thank you."

Reggie gave him a little thumbs up, and just then, a loud horn was heard. He glanced backward. "Damn," he whispered. "They're startin' it."

"Starting?"

"The guards'll make everyone come watch," Reggie said. "D'you mind if I stick with you for a bit? I'd rather not take me chances alone."

"Not at all," Olberic said.

"But you should probably hide the scarf," Primrose advised. Reggie took it off, quick as a whip, and stuffed it into his coat. Primrose frowned, and reached toward his hair.

"Oi!" he protested. "What d'you think yer doin' there?!"

"Helping you blend in," Primrose replied. "You'd be surprised what a little self-care does to change a look."

Begrudgingly, Reggie allowed the dancer to fix his hair. When she was done, it did look a fair bit neater.

"Well, you're not quite a new person," Primrose noted, looking him up and down. "But the guards should have a harder time recognizing you."

Reggie raised one eyebrow and shrugged. "Well, alright. S'pose 'm not the expert 'ere, am I?"

The three of them strode back to the town square. A crowd was already gathering. Some guards were knocking on doors to make sure everyone was out of their houses. Olberic could make out his six friends in the crowd. They looked none too pleased.

Once everyone was gathered, another guardsman came out of nowhere. There were four prisoners with him, bruised and shackled: an old woman; a young man, perhaps in his twenties; a young woman, about the same age; and a girl who couldn't have been more than seventeen. Olberic fought to keep his face neutral.

The guard read out from a piece of parchment in a flat, defeated voice. He recited their names. "For the crime of treason against Lord Werner, the four of you are sentenced to death by fire."

"Treason?" Primrose whispered.

"Criticizing 'im," Reggie corrected. "But treason sounds like a better reason to the rest of us, dunnit?"

Olberic looked around at the crowd, expecting a cry to go up at this blatant example of injustice, a ripple of speech, anything. But the townspeople were silent, and all carried the same expression of resignation to their fate.

The sound of a horse's hooves interrupted the silence, slow and foreboding, and a moment later, a horse entered the square. Olberic fixed a hard gaze at the man atop it.

He'd covered himself in dark-coloured armor, and poking out from it, there was a cravat, suggesting a suit underneath. His mustache and beard were the same shade of dark brown as his hair, and he was a little bit shorter than Olberic. He also wore a belt with a travel pouch on one hip and a sheathe for his sword on the other.

The townspeople all looked up at him, expressions never changing. Werner opened his travel pouch and took another piece of parchment from it. After reading over it for a moment, he spoke aloud, reciting four more names that Olberic didn't recognize.

Another set of people came out of the crowd: a young man, a gentleman who looked a few years older than Olberic, and two young women. One of them was the same girl who he had tried to talk to earlier.

A few guards came out of the crowd too, and unlocked the prisoner's shackles. They were led to the wooden stakes, and their hands were bound with ropes instead, looped back over the stakes so they couldn't run. Werner looked at the second set of townspeople and spoke.

"You have one minute."

The four of them instantly rushed to the prisoners, embracing them, whispering to them. A few shared kisses. All of them had tears staining their faces.

"What's this?" Olberic asked under his breath.

"'e gives the loved ones a chance to say goodbye," Reggie replied bitterly. "Then... well, you'll see for yourself."

"Loved ones?"

Reggie pointed out the pairs, one by one. "Boy and his grandmother. Sisters. Lovers. Father and daughter."

He heard Primrose exhale a shaky breath next to him.

"Enough."

Evidently, the minute was up. The four townspeople stepped back.

"Light your torches."

They walked back to the barrel full of torches, and lit them one by one. Olberic felt a cold fist clench at his heart.

"This can't be..." he whispered, barely audible. He looked over at Reggie, who was staring at the prisoners with a stony expression.

They walked back in front of the stakes, torches in hand, eyes downcast.

"Now set them alight."

There was a long moment of hesitation. The young man was the first to drop his torch, lighting the bale of hay that lay at the old woman's feet. The two young women followed after. All three of them looked away as they did it.

Olberic gritted his teeth. He looked for his friends in the crowd.

H'aanit had an uncharacteristic look of sheer loathing on her face, directed straight at Werner. Next to her, Alfyn was turning green. Ophilia had her head bowed and her hands clasped together, eyes squeezed shut and lips moving in silent prayer. Therion's stony expression resembled Reggie's.

Cyrus was covering Tressa's eyes, and had a mix of emotions on his face; despair, anger, pity. All Olberic could see of Tressa's face, however, was her lips. They were trembling, as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

As the flames overtook the bales of hay and began to lick at the prisoner's feet, they began to scream from the heat and pain. But the last townsperson still hadn't dropped his torch. Werner stared at him.

"I have given you more than enough time to speak your last," he said coldly, ignoring the shouts of pain. "Set her alight."

The man trembled, and shook his head. "I-I can't, Lord Werner."

At this, Werner's nostrils flared, and he jumped from his horse, drawing his sword. Even from a distance, Olberic could tell that the blade was extraordinarily sharp, sharp enough to cut with a touch rather than a slash.

Werner stalked over to the man - the father - as the three other townspeople returned to the crowd. The other three prisoners' screams reached an even higher pitch. Olberic saw Cyrus whisper something to Tressa, and moved his hands to cover her ears instead. The young merchant's eyes were closed.

Slowly, deliberately, Werner placed the tip of his blade against the father's throat. "I will give you one final chance. Drop your torch."

The girl behind him said something to him, but the man trembled. "I can't do that."

Werner rolled his eyes. "So be it."

And with one swift movement, he cut the man's throat. Blood sprayed, and stained the sword.

Now, there was sound. A ripple of cries rose from the crowd as his body fell, catching the flames on the way down. The girl screamed.

"SILENCE!" Werner bellowed. "Unless you want to meet the same fate!"

The noise shut off as quickly as it began. Werner stooped to pick up the torch, and set the girl on fire directly. The other three prisoners were already dead; her screams were the only noise that pierced the air.

Olberic had seen many terrible things in his life. He'd been in the thick of war, watched his closest friend cut down his liege. Even on this journey, for as much as he enjoyed the company of his friends and fellow travelers, there were still occasional horrors, like Gideon's abode beneath Quarrycrest.

But nothing he'd seen had made him feel as much murderous intent as the actions that he'd just witnessed.

He stepped forward. "I cannot allow this," he growled.

Primrose tugged at his arm. "Olberic."

He didn't stop, and took another step. "Olberic!" she hissed.

He finally turned to look at her. "I'm going to kill him," the warrior rumbled.

"Olberic, you can't," the dancer pleaded, stepping in front of him. "He's too well guarded."

"She's right," Reggie said. "They'll 'ave you surrounded and stick a spear in you 'fore you can draw your sword."

"He rules through fear," Olberic said. "They will join me against him."

"No, they won't!" Primrose whispered. "What would happen to them if you were to fail?"

Reggie chimed in again. "Seriously, mate, listen to me for a sec." Olberic spared a glance at Werner, who was now admiring his handiwork as the girl died, before looking at Reggie.

"You wouldn't be the first one who's tried that, alright?" Reggie told him. "There've been others, right. 'e's still standin' there. They've all lost, and d'you know what 'e did with his guards when they tried to turn against him?"

Olberic shook his head, but he could feel a pit in his stomach. He had a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Executed. Every single one of 'em. Some by the sword, some by fire, but all of 'em lost their lives. They aren't stupid enough to go through that again. If you try to fight Werner, they'll defend 'im without a second thought."

Olberic's hands were clenched into fists, and he seethed with anger. He looked down at Primrose, who had a defiant expression, as though she might stop him herself if he tried to push past her.

He exhaled, defeated. "Fine," he muttered, barely keeping his composure. He looked over at H'aanit, who seemed to be thinking the same thing he was, caught her eye, and shook his head. She took several deep breaths, and nodded in response.

Werner climbed back on his horse. "Adjourned," he announced, and rode back off into the evening darkness. The townspeople scattered.

The warrior stared at the five burning bodies, forcing himself to take in the sight.

"Olberic," Reggie said solemnly. He snapped his eyes to the younger man.

"Come to the alleyway tomorrow morning," he said. "Bring Primrose. Bring anyone else who might 'elp. I swear to you, mate, we're taking 'im down."

Olberic nodded at him, and Reggie turned to leave. A second later, he called the young man's name, and he turned around.

"I have to ask," Olberic rumbled. "Did you ever...?" He trailed off, instead gesturing to the pyre. The flames were beginning to die down as the prisoners' clothes and bodies turned to ash.

Reggie looked away and nodded. "Me dear mum, last year. I was... I lit 'er up."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Olberic replied automatically.

Reggie gave him a strained smile. "Thanks, mate. We all got somethin' to fight for, don't we? Now you know mine." He paused, and turned again. "See you tomorrow."

Olberic watched him leave.

Something to fight for.

"Olberic?"

He turned, and looked at Primrose. "Yes?"

"We should retire for the night."

"Yes, but..."

"But?"

"First, we need to talk to the others."

Primrose smiled. "I was thinking the same thing."