Brant peeked inside the room before he entered. Viggo was wall-sitting this time, but Brant didn't even blink at that. What was important was that Viggo was in his human form again. Sighing, Brant entered the room and shut the door. "Hey Viggo. Glad to see you're you today." He breathed honestly. Viggo chuckled in amusement.

"I'm always me, Brant." He countered. Brant rolled his eyes.

"You get what I mean." Viggo shrugged in reply. Brant pinched the bridge of his nose, but decided to move on. "Ok, so, questions! We've got more questions!" Brant exclaimed instead.

"Alright then. Ask away." Viggo ordered.

"Who was Boveris the Swift?" Brant began.

"Boveris was my mentor, and gave me my teeth. He was the greatest hunter amongst the Volkmajster. He gained his title 'The Swift' because he was the fastest amongst the pack. He could dodge any arrow and every blade. One moment he would be there, and the next he wouldn't. No one could match his speed." Viggo explained.

"What exactly do you mean when you say he was your 'mentor?' You never fully explained that." Brant asked.

"Mentor simply means that he would watch over me and lead all of my training. He would assess my ability and judge what I needed to improve. When he deemed I had finished my training, he would tell the shaman. If he deemed me worthy to become blood-kin, then he would ask me." Viggo expanded. Brant frowned slightly, scratching his chin.

"Since you were his sire, does that mean all your accomplishments would reflect on him?" Viggo stared at Brant, baffled at the question.

"Reflect on him? Brant, what I do reflects on only myself, and thus the pack indirectly. An individual's worth is won only by the individual according to the Volkmajster. Anyone could command a powerful servant, but to wield that power yourself and wield it responsibly is what the Volkmajster respect. That's why a Volkmajster earns a title by what they do, like Boveris did. You try to better yourself, and that makes the pack all the more stronger. 'If a part is strong, then the whole grows stronger.' It's connected." Brant blinked at Viggo.

"That's… really interesting. But what if there's a bad Volkmajster?" Brant inquired.

"Then the shaman and leader decide to banish the individual, for the good of the pack. Everything, and I do mean everything, is done so that the pack grows stronger and survives. The Volkmajster are very group-minded. Incredibly so." Viggo answered. Brant stored away this information for later. Then he grew silent. After a few seconds stretched into a few minutes, Viggo frowned suspiciously. "Speak, Brant. What's on your mind?" Brant clenched his teeth, struggling with himself.

"Well, I- You see…. The Council…" He trailed off again. Viggo sighed.

"Speak, Brant. You won't offend me." Viggo assured him. Those words broke the dam that had built in Brant's throat.

"The Council asked me once again about the Frozen Marshes." He blurted hurriedly. Viggo's expression hardened, just as Brant feared. "I tried to tell them that I didn't think it was a good idea, but they insisted. They wouldn't listen to-" Brant silenced at a gesture from Viggo. Viggo stood up and sat down in the middle of the cell.

"It's alright Brant. I trust you enough to tell you, and I don't want you getting in trouble." Viggo took a few deep, slow breaths. "It's just… difficult to talk about." Brant was surprised. Viggo never seemed to have trouble speaking his mind. Brant was about to dissuade Viggo from speaking, but Viggo beat him to it. "The Frozen Marshes was, as I said, officially called a victory. Truthfully, it was a terrible waste of life. Thousands of soldiers died because the threat was underestimated. So many souls were sent to the slaughter." The cell went quiet as Viggo paused. Brant had the feeling Viggo was steadying himself. "One of our richest mines was located in a large hill right next to the Frozen Marshes. There was an enormous amount of iron ore there, and some True Ice. That's why it was heavily fortified from the very beginning. It was a very important supplier of ore to Queen Avarosa's forces. However, reports came in that one of the rebellious tribes was heading towards it to attack. The reports said that the force was small, and could easily be destroyed. So the Circle decided to send most of our new men there to get them some experience. I wasn't too keen on the idea, but the majority agreed with it. Twenty thousand men were sent there, Brant. Most of them just boys, newly trained and eager." Viggo paused again. "Only a few days later, a messenger arrived back. He was half dead when he came in. He told us that the earlier reports of it only being a small invasion were lies. An army had descended upon our hapless soldiers. What had once been twenty thousand had been reduced to only around five hundred." Brant stared at Viggo, stunned. Words refused to leave his lips. He could only listen as Viggo kept going.

"I demanded that I take some of our best men and go save the survivors and the mine. The messenger said that those who weren't slaughtered had taken refuge within the mine itself, but now they were trapped by the opposing forces. He had been a prisoner of the enemy army, but had managed to slip away. Our men were under siege, and they did not have enough supplies to last that long. The Circle agreed to let me head out, and I was given the location of a secret back entrance to the mines, where I would be able to contact the survivors without running into the rebels. When I finally found the soldiers…"

XXXXXXX

"They're just up ahead, sir." Reports one of the scouts I sent ahead.

"Good. The sooner we're out of this tiny tunnel, the better." Ralf grumbles beside me. I ignore him.

"What state are they in?" The scout hesitates, and an uneasy feeling settles within me.

"It… It would be easier to show you, sir." I glance at Ralf. Worry colors his expression as well, and we move forward quickly. Soon enough, light appears up ahead that isn't caused by our own lanterns. However, what it lights up isn't exactly uplifting.

The cramped space of the cold, rocky tunnel opens up to an enormous cavern. However, there's barely anyone inside it to fill the space. Immediately at the sight of us, shouts rise within the cavern. The few that can rise stumble to their feet and run towards us. In the light of the lanterns, dirtied and bloody faces become visible. Tears are running down their faces. Sobs are torn out of throats in ragged heaves. Gibberish that must've been desperate pleas or hopeful cries spill from hundreds of throats as these broken boys flood us. I feel a hand grip my arm. It clings to me as if I would disappear. A face appears, so young and yet so scarred. The eyes that look up at me are brimming with water and wild panic. The sight involuntarily burns into my memory. They look at me as if I was a god, sent to deliver, or a ghost, sent to haunt. I feel so disconnected at that moment, as if I was as unreal as these men thought I was. All my senses begin to blur together, until it's just a dizzying mess. Finally something in me snaps. I need room. I have to think. I have to make them stop.

"ALL SOLDIERS AT ATTENTION!" Comes the thunderous roar from my throat. The words echo deafeningly within the cavern, and the frenzied movement ceases after a moment. The troops stand up tall, or as tall as they can manage. So many eyes stare at me, as if I were a beacon of light in a dark room. "How many of you are there?" I dare to ask, even though I know the answer.

"About five hundred, sir." Finally comes a reply. My teeth clench tightly until it hurts. I knew, but some part of me wanted confirmation. It got what it wished for. I stand there for a while, frozen. A hand on my shoulder brings me back to reality. I glance at Ralf, nodding my thanks.

"Is the enemy directly outside the mine's main entrance?" I throw out the question.

"Yes sir. They took over the fortifications outside, and now they're keeping us pinned inside." Someone answers.

"But you have an exit, right!? That's how you got in!" The words set off another frenzy of whispers, and the small force pushes against us again. I don't want another flood.

"I said AT ATTENTION!" The command makes them right themselves again, for the moment. "Yes we have an exit. You will gather the injured and prepare them for travel. However, I ask those of you who are still able to fight to join us in retaking the fortifications outside. Will anyone join us?" My question is met with complete silence. No one steps forward at my offer. The eyes that once trained on me now search everything but.

"Viggo, you can't expect them to fight." Ralf says from behind me. "They've been through enough." I close my eyes, breathing in deeply. Eyes filled with fear stare back at me through the darkness of my eyelids. I can smell the terror in the air, feel the despair choking it. The appearance of my men and I has given a small ray of hope. Yet I would take all that away if I sent them out again. They don't want to fight. There is no morale here. There is only sadness and fear.

"I'm sorry." I say into the silence. "I did not know many of the men sent here by the Circle. I cannot claim the same familiarity that you can when speaking of them. I cannot say if they were kind, or caring, or brotherly, or anything. I did not know them." I pause for a moment. "But what I do know is that they were brave. Your comrades, your brothers-in-arms, were very, very brave. Brave enough to give their very lives for you. Brave enough to sacrifice themselves for their families back home. Brave enough to sacrifice themselves to help unify Freljord. They died with weapons in their hands, in the midst of battle. Fighting for honor. Fighting to protect both you and our people. Because when it comes down to it, we are the first and last defenders for our families and friends back home. We are all that stands between them and annihilation at the hands of these brutes who just took our comrades. If we are going to protect them, then we have to band together and fight. When you joined, you pledged yourself into service. We may have all come from different tribes, but now we are one. We fight to protect each other and our home. We fight to better our Freljord. We fight for a worthy cause, because your comrades found it worthy enough to sacrifice themselves. Hope might've seemed bleak when you fled into these mines, but do not be discouraged. Do not let those soldiers, your brothers and sisters, die for nought. Take up your arms and avenge them. Take up your weapons, and fight against the tide that wants to drown our home in blood. You are not cowards. We are not cowards. We are warriors. We are a family, bound by the trials and pains of combat. We fight beside each other and for each other. We leave no man behind, and do not let our fallen be forgotten. Will anyone stand with me, and avenge our fallen brethren?" My words echo throughout the cavern as silence resumes its reign. For a few moments, no one stirs. I fear that my spontaneous speech has done nothing.

Then a lone soldier steps forward.

He's joined by a few others. Perhaps half of the survivors come forward, but it's better than I hoped for. I put a fist to my heart and bow low. "I'm honored to have you join in the fight. You're all very brave, every one of you." I state, a smile unconsciously on my face. "Those who decided not to fight, take the wounded and go out the back. Do not think of yourselves as cowards. What you've been through is terrible. You've earned a rest." As the troops separate, Ralf slaps me on the back with a grin.

"Didn't know you had it in you, Viggo! That speech certainly wasn't the best, but it somehow worked! Good job! Now, how are we going about this whole thing?" He inquires. I exhale with relief. This was something I knew how to do.

"We have to split our forces, and send out a force to distract the enemy while our other force pours out of the mines. They don't know that or reinforcements are inside the mines. They'll think that the force outside is all the help that was sent. While they're distracted, we'll charge out from the mines and attack from within the fortifications. Ralf, you'll lead the force distracting the enemy. Don't engage them too directly until we come out from the mines. That way casualties can be kept a minimum while still drawing attention. Once we've caused enough chaos and the enemy's attention is split, then you can charge into the fortifications. Head out using the secret entrance we came in through so the rebels won't find you. I'll lead the forces charging from the mines and listen for fighting before we attack. Got it?" Ralf nods with a grin, and I clap him on the shoulder in return. "Good. Now, let's avenge our fallen."

"So you basically trapped the enemy between both you and Ralf's men?" Brant questioned finally. He had stayed silent for the most part.

"Exactly. We had to take them by surprise if we were going to limit the amount of deaths on our side." Viggo answered.

"Just the deaths on your side? So you took no prisoners?" Brant inquired. Viggo's eyes narrowed.

"There was no mercy left in us for the rebels."

"Steady those shields. Link them together! Getting out of the tunnels is going to be the hardest part! Maintain your positions until we've cleared the entrances and managed to make it to the center. By then, Ralf should be able to reach us and crush the enemy between us. Ready yourselves!" I shout. The men stand together closely, shields raised to form a barrier. Some men stand between the shield bearers, holding long pikes to stab enemies through the small spaces between shields. Soon enough, we begin to hear combat coming from further down the tunnel. Ralf must've worked overtime to reach the rebel forces quickly. I smile proudly, but return my expression to neutral again. We had work to do. "Ready!" All the soldiers tense. "March!" At my command, the large group of soldiers starts forward at a brisk pace. Light from outside begins to brighten our vision, and the sounds of combat grow louder. "Don't falter! This is it!" I roar just as we begin to exit the mines. Ralf has done his job well, and we manage to get a feet paces before attention is drawn to us. Pretty soon, arrows start thudding into the front shields. Warriors run to bash against our advance. Some are taken out by the pikes, but some manage to take out our shield bearers. Our progress is slowed down to a painful crawl.

"Fill in the gaps! We have to keep moving!" I order. Men take the fallen's places, and our group slowly continues to move forward. After a slow and agonizing eternity, we finally make it out of the mines and into the center of the camp. Ralf and his men are starting to pour into the camp as well, but they need help. "Alright men! Avenge our comrades! CHARGE!" I shouted over the roar of fighting. At my command, our forces break into smaller groups. The battlefield is soon enveloped in chaos. My rage boils beneath the surface, but I keep my head cool. The emotion is fuel, but does not control me. I go into a sort of trance. My scythes swing in an endless, frenzied dance. I lift shields, deflect blows, slice through armor. Blood flies everywhere, painting everything red. Sounds and sights begin to cut out and blur. I can't feel anything anymore. I'm only vaguely aware of the passing of time. My thoughts are only on the blades I dodge and the flesh I cut. I keep fighting until a voice cuts through the cold fog that had settled over my mind.

"Viggo! Enough!" I snap my head to the side. It's a figure wearing the symbol of Queen Avarosa. It takes a while for the figure's features to register beyond the symbol. It's Ralf, approaching me slowly. I smell no trace of fear coming off of him. He just knows to approach me slowly. "Viggo, the battle's over. They're all slain. You can stop now." He says soothingly. As he talks, my mind is released from the battle-ready state it was in. The tension in my body fades away slowly, and I can sense exhaustion within my muscles. I was angrier than I thought. Around me lie numerous bodies from the rebel forces. The camp is devoid of all enemy life. In the sky, the sun is already beginning to set. The battle must've taken hours. It's only then that I realize I'm in my Volkmajster form. When had I changed? I change back with a shake of my head, and Ralf catches me. I had more injuries than expected, but that wasn't important.

"How are our loses?" I question immediately when I can stand on my own again.

"We lost over a hundred or so men, but we got them all." The numbers still make me cringe. There had been too much death here. Far too much death.

"Separate our soldiers from theirs and prepare them all for burial." I order. One of the troops, a youngling that had survived out of the twenty thousand sent initially, yells angrily.

"Prepare them for burial?! Sir, they looted our men and dumped their bodies into a pit before burning them! Why should we give them a proper burial if they treated us so poorly even after they destroyed us?!" The argument is met with many other growls of agreement from the other survivors that joined the battle and lived. I stare at the boy, and after a few seconds he looks away. I stay silent for a few seconds, mulling over what he's said.

"Loot the bodies then," I order instead, "But we will prepare them for burial." I look at the boy again, and then make eye contact with each of the survivors. "We bury them because we have honor while they did not. By doing so, we prove ourselves better. Now go. There's been enough arguments and death here." The soldiers wordlessly obey my commands, and I look over the battlefield once again. Ulf once told me that death didn't care who you were. It came for you all the same. As I look at the bodies, his words ring with truth. These soldiers were only boys, not men. Yet here they lay, broken and bloody in the snow. This shouldn't have happened. Shame and guilt floods me. If only I hadn't let the Circle go through with this. If only I had been a little more insistent on sending veterans. So many deaths could've been avoided if I had just pushed.

I let this happen. Their deaths were my fault.

A hand grips my shoulder abruptly. I jolt at the contact and glance at the figure. Ralf looks at me, concern and knowing in his eyes. I already know what he's going to say before he speaks. "I know that look, Viggo. Don't you dare blame yourself for this." I shrug off his hand and walk away, but Ralf stays with me. "Viggo." He persists. I shake my head firmly.

"It's my fault, Ralf. If I had just stayed firm and insisted that more experienced soldiers had been sent-" I start, but Ralf cuts me off.

"Don't give me that, Viggo. You had no control over this. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault." He stresses with a frown. "You take too much blame that doesn't belong to you. You can't save everyone, Viggo." I stare at Ralf for a long time. I know he's right. The logical part of me acknowledges the truth. I can't save everyone.

"That doesn't mean I can't try." I answer him.

XXXXXXX

Brant didn't speak. Something told him to wait. Maybe it was how cool and indifferent Viggo's expression had turned. Whatever it was, Brant waited. After about a minute of complete silence, Brant hesitantly spoke. "So what happened to the mine and those soldiers?" He inquired softly.

"The soldiers were sent back to the castle, and given rest. More experienced men were sent to the mine to fortify it even more. We couldn't allow something like that to happen again." Viggo answered. Brant frowned slightly.

"So what did the Circle say when you returned?" Viggo's face turned impossibly colder, as if he were made of stone.

"They labeled it a victory, and praised me for my triumph. I did not return to the Circle for weeks, dedicating myself to training the soldiers that survived the battle so that they would be ready next time." Brant frowned. Pangs of sympathy surged through him as he looked at Viggo.

"You still blame yourself, don't you." It was more of a statement then a question. Viggo didn't meet Brant's eyes. That only confirmed it. "Viggo, Ralf was right. It wasn't your fault that those men died. You shoul-"

"Enough, Brant." Viggo interrupted sharply. "Please. Just go tell your Council." Brant wanted to argue, wanted to convince Viggo that he wasn't at fault. However, Brant couldn't find it in himself to argue. Despite the neutrality of Viggo's face, Brant could see anguish in those stormy eyes. No matter what Brant said, Viggo wouldn't drop the guilt. It was pointless to fight him on it. Sighing, Brant rubbed his temples and shook his head.

"... Very well. I'll see you tomorrow then." He said weakly before heading out the cell door and shutting it lightly behind him.

Hello again dear readers! It took me a bit longer to make this chapter mostly because I'm starting to get busy outside of writing again. Also, this chapter was a bit more challenging for me. I wanted to get it just right, so I took a bit more time on it. Please comment on how the chapter looks and point out any mistakes I might have made. I hope you enjoy!

~Cheers,

Dr. Falter Walter