As they were making their way back to Berk, Wartihog came to a sudden stop, and everyone looked at him.

"Is something wrong?" Hiccup asked.

Wartihog looked slightly awkward, which was unusual for him. "You know how sometimes, you spend time with… people, and things… Hm."

"You're not proposing to him, are you?" said Snotlout.

"What? No!" Wartihog glared at him. "I was just thinking that I know some people here on the surface. A person, actually. Girl I knew in Orzammar. Before I left, obviously."

Hiccup knew where this was going. "A girl you knew, or a girl you knew?"

Tuffnut looked at his sister, confused. "Isn't he just repeating the question?" Ruffnut rolled her eyes and whispered something in her brother's ear. "Oh, he means a girl that she knew?"

Wartihog rolled his eyes and turned back to Hiccup. "Oh, aya. After Branka left for the Deep Roads. Name's Felsi, and she was a feisty one. In fact, she reminds me of your girl."

Hiccup do know whose face was pink his or Astrid.

Snotlout blinked. "What does he mean his girl? Hiccup isn't with any girl?"

"He means the one named Astrid," said Shale.

"What?" Snotlout stared flabbergasted. "Since when?"

"Months ago, I thought everyone knew," said Ruffnut.

"You did?" said Astrid looking mortified.

"Seemed obvious," said Tuffnut.

"Hey, can we get back to my girl?" Wartihog asked, bringing everyone's attention back towards him. "Anyway, I'm sure she's forgiven me by now. Thought maybe I'd track her down. See how she's been living."

"Hang on," said Heather staring at him. "You were cheating on, Branka?"

"Actually he wasn't you're forgetting the whole concubine thing," Ragnar reminded her.

"Besides she was the one cheated on me with that tramp Hespith!" Wartihog pointed out. "Granted I did find that out till after, but hey. Truth is truth. Anyway, she left the surface a year back, and I haven't seen her since."

"So why did she leave?" Hiccup asked.

Wartihog blinked. "Why are you asking me? I didn't do anything. Last I heard she was going to live with her mother on the surface. Near some… lake, Cleanbad Lake, was it?"

"You're not fooling anyone, Wartihog," said Hiccup folding his arms. "Besides you were the one who said that she forgave you?"

Wartihog facepalmed himself. "Sod, I did, didn't I? Look, Felsi and me didn't leave things on the best of terms. She was jealous of Branka. And she got to be in control. And I was meant to be free. You know what I mean? Anyway, she couldn't handle everything wishing they could be with me. So she left. Honest truth."

"I can't idea her version of the story," said Ragnar.

Hiccup sighed. "I don't know thinking keep doing these side missions, every day we waste makes the darkspawn stronger."

"Didn't you want to check out Soldier's Peak and see how Levi and his family are doing?" Ragnar asked.

"Yeah, but we don't have time."

"I suggest that we split up, I'll take a group with Wartihog, you take a group to Soldier's Peak and Speedfist can take everyone else back to Berk."

"Sounded good as planners any," said Speedfist.

Hiccup sighed. "All right, I'll take Astrid, Fishlegs and Toothless. Ragnar, you take Heather and Eret with Wartihog. Speedfist, you take everyone else, and all meet up back at Berk."

"Right," they all nodded.

Hiccup and his group soon returned back to Soldier's Peak, which now looked like a small thriving community. Meeting them at the gate was Levi, and he seemed particularly excited to see him.

"Welcome back, your Highness," he said, shaking Hiccup's hand. "As you can see, we've been busy. Cleaning the place up a bit. Even my brother, Mikhael, came out of hiding. Never will you find a finer smith. Also got some good stalled here that might interest you."

"Did you tell the rest of your family about Sophia?" Hiccup asked.

Levi's face darkened. "I thought about it. But I figured it was not a bad thing to believe that you came from a line of lions. Even if the truth is a touch more complicated. Our family's belief that we were wronged… It gave us the strength to make something of ourselves."

"And what do you think of Sophia?" Astrid asked curiously.

"King Arland sounded like a right nasty piece of work," Levi admitted. "Sophia was branded a traitor, she consulted with blood mages. But in spite of all of it, I think she was a hero."

Fishlegs looked around, looked impressed. "Keep certainly looks different than the last time we were here."

Levi smiled proudly. "We've a big family. When you were away, we all pitched in. Hard to believe there were any undead, demons, and worse around here, right?"

After Levi showed them around what they did in the Keep, he directed them to his brother, Mikhael.

Mikhael looked up from his work when he saw Hiccup approaching. "You? You're the Warden? My family owes you."

"You're Levi's brother?" Hiccup frowned, he looked nothing like his brother. "I don't see much of the family resemblance."

"I have a family full of traders living a soft life," he said, folding his arms. "Getting fat. I've chose to learn from the metal and stone. It keeps me strong."

"Levi did mention that you are weaponsmith," said Astrid.

"Indeed," he nodded. "I have spent my life studying steel, dragonbone, and more. I learned all I could into human lands, and exiled dwarves taught me more. Give me the finest metal and materials, and I can make wonders for you."

Hiccup decided to accept his challenge and then pulled out the star metal he pulled out from the crater. "In my travels, I found this strange metal. Can you do anything with it?"

Mikhael eyes widened when he saw the metal. "This… This is star metal. If you give this to me. I will craft you a thing of legend."

"A star-metal long sword sounds perfect," said Hiccup.

"And so it shall be…"

Mikhael began hammering away, and everyone else waited for several hours. Eventually a hammer and stopped and in his hand, Mikhael was carrying the most beautiful blade Hiccup had ever seen. It sparkled within the sunlight, and the handle was shaped like a dragon.

"It is done," he said. "I call this blade Starfang. May it serve you well."

Astrid just stared at the blade as Hiccup held up to the light. "It's beautiful."

"In light," said Hiccup as he gave it a few practice swings. "This is literally a sword out of this world."

"We should get back to Berk and show it to the others," said Fishlegs.

Ragnar and his group finally reached Lake Calenhad, Heather took Wartihog she told him that she wanted to make sure he was presentable when seen Felsi, but in truth, they both agreed secretly that he should check her out. Partly to find out why she left, but mostly make sure that they weren't going into another trap like they did with Branka.

It wasn't hard to find Felsi, since she was the only dwarf working in the Spoiled Princess. Apparently, she saw him approaching and looked up at him with a firm expression.

"What can I get you? And don't say mead. We ran out of that a week ago. And don't say rum, either. Ran out the day before yesterday. And don't say brandy," she said.

He started to see why Wartihog fell for her, she was as tough as he is maybe even more so. Ragnar blinked. "When did you run out of brandy?"

"Oh, we haven't yet. It's just terrible. We got it from a shady Asgardian trader, and I think it might really be turpentine."

"Felsi! I need tables cleaned, girl!" the bartender yelled.

"I've got a customer!" Felsi yelled back.

Ragnar decided it was best to ask whether she was still single otherwise will be no point of Orghren to say hello. "Does your husband work in the tavern, too?"

She laughed. "Husband? You haven't been in town long, have you? You'd think this whole town was a Chantry cloister, for all the real men you find here."

"Then, why stay? You could do better in Aresgan."

"The dwarves in Aresgan are as bad as the ones back in Orzammar. They're all alliances and rank and money, always worried about their reputation. You know how boring that is? I'd rather go drunk with a deepstalker than any of the men in Aresgan."

If that was true Wartihog said a pretty good chance of reigniting the old flame.

"Felsi! The tables, girl! They ain't cleaning themselves!" the bartender yelled again.

He noticed that Felsi was clenching her fists. "I told you, I've got a customer!"

Ragnar decided it was better, to tell the truth right now. "I'm a friend of Wartihog's."

Felsi stared at him. "And you admit it?" She then sniffed him. "You don't smell drunk. Get kicked in the head by a bronto, did you?"

Ragnar was expecting this. "So you're not exactly a fan of his, then?"

Felsi crossed her arms. "You could say that. You should also say I would rather kiss a deepstalker on the lips than see him again."

"What happened between you two?"

Felsi glared at him. "What happened? Is that a serious question? Have you met Wartihog?" Ragnar had to admit, she had a point. "He got drunk," Ragnar raised an eyebrow. "Drunker than usual, even. Took off his pants and challenged a roast nug to a wrestling match at my father's funeral. He lost, by the way. The roast got him in an arm lock. He sat there, crying for half an hour before someone pulled it off him.

Ragnar stared at her. "How did he lose to a piece of meat?"

Felsi shrugged. "It was a sodding good roast!"

"Felsi! What in Andraste's name are you doing? The tables, girl!" the bartender yelled.

"All right!" Felsi yelled and looked at him. "I've got to go back to work."

When he got outside, he found Heather and Wartihog standing there waiting for him. Wartihog looked a lot more presentable than it had been a few minutes ago, but he was glaring at Ragnar.

"You didn't take me to see her? What? You scoping her for yourself?"

"We wanted to make sure it be safe to take you," said Heather.

"Safe? What kind of women do you think I—" Both Ragnar and Heather raised an eyebrow. "Well, aye. Branka did try to trap us in the Deep Roads. I see your point."

"You can go and see her," said Ragnar gesturing to the door.

"Ooh, I was hoping you'd say that. Rumbling Stone. I've been looking forward to this," said Wartihog excitedly. "Lead the way. The Wartihog Love Caravan is on the move!"

He made his way to the door, but then Ragnar grabbed his arm. "There are a few things you should know."

Wartihog looked at him puzzled. "What do you mean? I got something in my beard? My trousers are open? What?"

"She hasn't exactly forgiven you for the nug incident."

"That fight was rigged! Anyway, the guard said it wasn't worth pressing charges. So she has no colder hold a grudge!"

"I wouldn't underestimate a woman scorn," said Eret, who looked as if he was enjoying the show.

"Did she say anything else?" Wartihog asked.

"She's still single."

"I knew it!" Wartihogyelled triumphantly. "Once you've had Wartihog, what merchant boy would do?"

"She thinks surface dwarf men are all boring."

"Well, of course. Their merchants, maybe craftsmen. None of them compared to a real warrior."

"Go get her."

Wartihog made his way over the tavern and Ragnar followed.

"This ought to be fun," said Eret looking at Heather.

Wartihog then marched up towards Felsi, who had her back towards him, cleaning a table. "Are you sure you're not a baker? 'Cause you've got a sodding nice set of buns."

Ragnar facepalmed himself, and Felsi turned to look at him. "Well look what the nug dragged in. I should have known you were in the neighbourhood by the stench. What are you doing here?"

"Just trying to kick back with a pint. Fighting darkspawn's a lot of sodding work, you know?"

"You're fighting darkspawn?" said Felsi looking quite surprised.

"This man took an army of golems almost single-handed," said Ragnar.

"It was a bit of a pain, but… it was a personal favour for the King of Orzammar, you understand."

Felsi rolled her eyes. "The whole surface to come from, and you just happen to come to my tavern?"

Wartihog rubbed the back of his head. "Uh… well…"

Ragnar leaned over to Wartihog and whispered, "Tell her it's fate."

Wartihog looked at him. "What? Oh, right." He then looked at Felsi. "It's fate, Felsi. What can I say?"

"Fate?" said Felsi sceptically. "The ancestors must have a sense of humour, then."

"You just figure that out now? You've seen what passes for dwarves appear. Don't you think that's a joke?"

Felsi sighed. "I'll give you that."

Ragnar then whispered to Wartihog, "Tell her you've been thinking of her."

"I've been thinkin' about you, Felsi," said Wartihog.

Felsi looked at him tightly. "What do you want, Wartihog?"

"Nothin'. Just thought I'd see how you were doing, is all. Well, maybe that and grease up the bronto, if you know what I mean."

"Well, you've seen me. You'll have to go back to Orzammar for the bronto."

"Admit it, Wartihog is much more fun than the men around here," said Ragnar.

Felsi looked at him. "If by, 'fun,' you mean, 'more likely to light farts on fire,' yes."

"Ah well, it's been fun, Felsi, but I better go," said Orghren.

"Wait! You're leaving?" said Felsi quickly. "You just got here. I haven't called you a shaft-rat yet…"

"Oh, you can't keep the archdemon waiting. You hurt its feelings, it just might turn the whole Blight around and go home. Nobody wants that."

"Well… you don't need to fight it right now, do you? I mean, you could have a pint first. You call me a surly bronto, I could tell you that you smell like nug droppings…"

Wartihog smiled. "I tell you what, I've got something I gotta do, but I'll come back for that pint when things are settled. You frigid deepstalker."

"Fine, but you better not keep me waiting, you worthless copper-plated sword-caste."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

With that, they started to make their way towards the door.

"Well?" Eret asked.

"Heh. I still got it," said Orghren.

It wasn't until late in the afternoon when everyone met back at Berk, and everyone was utterly impressed with Hiccup's new sword.

"Now there's a sword fit for a king," said Ragnar.

"Why does he always get all the cool stuff?" Snotlout asked, and the twins merely shrugged.

Ake was examining the sword. "I've never seen any of it's like." He then handed back to Hiccup. "Just remember it's not the sort that makes the warrior."

"I know," said Hiccup as he took it from him.

Ake smiled relative them seriously. "You'll be should be pleased to know that we finally located a large Freefolk Clan in the Brecilian Forest."

"I'm surprised they haven't made their way north yet," said Ragnar folding his arms.

"To the war be slowing them down?" Heather wondered.

Ragnar shook his head. "My people have a lot of experience in avoiding human wars. No, I think it's something else."

"Whatever the case, we should be grateful that there's still here," said Hiccup. "We'll rest up and leave in the morning."

Hiccup was somewhat surprised to find Bodhan and Sandal in the castle.

"Bodhan, I didn't expect you and Sandal to still be here," said Hiccup.

"Your father was kind enough to offer my son and I lodgings in exchange for supplies," Bodhan explained. "I'm happy to help him… and you too, of course! If you have need of my wares, you have but to ask!"

"You mentioned before that your son was good with enchantments," said Hiccup looking at Sandal.

"The boy's a bit simple, but he is rather good with enchantments. One of those Tranquil fellows actually called him a… what was it, now? A savant? I had no idea such a thing existed."

"What enchantments does he do?" Hiccup asked curiously.

"He didn't fold lyrium into almost any weapon or piece of armour, though naturally some of the more extravagant materials will take more lyrium than others. It's a process that some of the master smiths back in Orzammar will perform, but my boy here is just as adept at it. Isn't that right, boy?"

"Enchantment," said Sandal excitedly.

Bodhan nodded as if that settled the matter. "And there you have it."

"In that case a good few items that could do with some enchantments," said Hiccup.

"Just give them to my boy, and he will provide you the most excellent magical weapons money can buy," said Bodhan.

Hiccup did just that, and as Sandal was busy in chancing them, Hiccup looked at Bodhan seriously.

"So what exactly is your story?" Hiccup asked.

"Hmm," said Bodhan rubbing the back of his head. "I suppose since you told me about you being a Grey Warden and the true heir to the throne, is only fitting for me to be as open. I am originally from Orzammar and back there I was a merchant… part of the Merchant Caste, though I think you figure that out for yourself. I ran a fairly successive business. Rare artifacts, you know, old things… the nobles loved them. Remind them of the lost glory days, I suppose."

"But what cause you to come up here to the surface?" Hiccup asked curiously.

"So, as I said, things were going well. But good things must come to an end. One day a noblewoman came to my store. She looked around for a bit and then started streaking in dismay. Apparently, she believes that a pair of braces I had for so once belonged to her brother. He had been lost in a cave-in, you see, while on an expedition to clear out the darkspawn from one of the tunnels running close to the city." He then began to impersonate the woman and yelled, "'They were made, especially for him! They're unique!' she shrieked. 'He stole them from my poor brother's corpse!' She had me arrested on the spot, of course. Nobles, they're touchy like that, no offence."

Hiccup shrugged. "So, what happened then?"

"Well, I didn't steal them," he said rather quickly and then sighed heavily. "You see, I had been paying these casteless thugs to venture out into the Deep Roads for me. The lost thaigs… they're full of things that people left behind. Sometimes you can find a treasure—something worth the little gold."

Hiccup had slightly mixed views on this. "I see…"

"The noblewoman, she wasn't too happy with the… 'theft' of her brother's braces. I don't know what they planned for me, and I didn't want to find out. Bribed to the guard that was watching me and took off for the surface first opportunity I got. Never looked back."

"So where was Sandal through all this?"

"I found him in the Deep Roads years ago. Abandoned, I think, and he was never quite right in the head. I took him in and brought him with me when I came to the surface. He may not be my blood, true, but I think of him as a one."

"That was quite generous of you," said Hiccup, there weren't a lot of people who would adopt someone like Sandal.

"It's not as if I don't benefit, mind you. Turns out the boy's a natural working with enchantments. He might have even been lyrium-addled. I never thought of that before, to be honest. Happen sometimes. He couldn't work an enchantment into just about anything, however, given some time. Could probably open his own shop, if he knew how."

"Enchantment!" said Sandal as he approached back with Hiccup's stubborn looking quite pleased with his work.

Bodhan merely chuckled. "Well, he does seem to enjoy it, at least."

The next morning they left, and they've reached the Brecilian Forest in about midday. Once they go to the forest, Ragnar led the way.

Ragnar held up his hand and gestured for the others to stay back, and continued forward on his own for several paces. Snotlout almost jumped when the hunters seemed to almost materialise out of the woods around Ragnar.

"We're here, best let me do the talking," said Ragnar.

"I think that'll be the wisest decision," said Hiccup.

They then approached the hunters, who lowered their bows when they saw Ragnar. "Andaran atish'an, my friend. You have come a long way. I give you the welcome of our clan." She looked back at the others. "These are curious companions you have. Might I ask the purpose of your visit?"

"I have come on behalf of the Grey Wardens, sister."

"The Grey Wardens? You… have joined their ranks? How unusual! Excuse my surprise… I will take you to the keeper right away."

Ragnar and gestured for them to follow.

The huntress led them into a Freefolk encampment. Hiccup only got a brief look around the camp, and immediately he knew that something was wrong.

They were led to a small grouping of aravels. A man, his face more heavily tattooed than Ragnar's, gave them a polite nod of greeting.

"Hmmm… I see we have guests… and one of our own, no less."

"This one is from one of our sister clans to the north, Keeper, but claims to have come on behalf of the Grey Wardens."

"The Grey Wardens? How unusual that one of our own should join their ranks. How did such a thing occur?"

Ragnar gave the man a respectful bow. "They need all the assistance they can get."

"Hmmm…" Zathrian gave Ragnar a contemplative look. "It is as I feared, then. Very well, let us speak. Ma serannas, Mithra, you may return to your post."

"Ma nuvenin, Keeper," the young woman bowed and left.

"Now, perhaps we might introduce ourselves. I am Zathrian, keeper and hahren of this clan. You are?"

"My name is Ragnar, a pleasure to meet you. This is Hiccup, my commander."

"Acting commander," Hiccup corrected.

"If you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed its corruption. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move." He gestured to the camp. "Sadly, as you can see, we do not. Do not allow our troubles to burden you, though I suspect they may impact your mission. I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This will require some… explanation. Please, follow me."

He led them to the centre of the camp. Men, women, and even children were laying on hastily made pallets. Some looked severely injured. All appeared to be suffering. Ragnar's face was dark when he saw this.

Zathrian turned to look at them. "The clan came to the Brecilian Forest one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Midgard. We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us. They… ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak. Even with all our magic and healing skill, we will eventually be forced to slay our brethren to prevent them from becoming beasts. The Blight's evil must be stopped, but we are in no position to uphold our obligations." He sighed. "I am truly sorry."

"Is there no way to help your men?" Ragnar asked. He saw the faces of his own clan in the eyes of the injured.

"The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimately either death or a transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that…" He shook his head. "That would be no trivial task to retrieve."

Ragnar gestured at his companions. "We are good at non-trivial tasks."

Zathrian looked them over, then returned his gaze to Ragnar. "Within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf—we call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood that it has been spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse, but this task has proven too dangerous for us. I sent some hunters into the forest a week ago, but they have not returned. I cannot risk any more of my clan."

Hiccup sighed. "We'll find this Witherfang for you," he told the Keeper.

"I must warn you that more than werewolves lurk in the Brecilian Forest. It has a history full of carnage and murder, you see. Where there is so much death, the Veil separating the spirit realm from our own becomes thin, allowing spirits to possess things living or dead. But if you can indeed help…" He sighed and then nodded. "Then I wish you luck."

"Walk into the forest and cut out the heart of a particular werewolf?" Astrid asked, her tone sceptical. "It's never that simple."

Ragnar nodded. "It won't be. I'm afraid my keeper was correct about the danger within this forest. My clan never stayed in this forest long."

"Then we have to find out a bit more about this affliction," said Hiccup. "Ragnar, what would you suggest?"

"We might speak with the storyteller. He might know something more about the area." Ragnar frowned thoughtfully. "And we should seek out Master Varathorn, stock up on potions before we go in."

Hiccup nodded. "We should rest a bit before heading out into the forest."

Ragnar glanced at the others hesitantly. "I'd stay close to the centre of the camp and be mindful. The Freefolk are unused to strangers in their midst and a very mistrusting, especially to humans." He then looked directly at the twins. "So, I want no funny business."

"Why does everyone look at us when they say that?" Tuffnut asked, looking at the twins.

They found the storyteller at the fire.

"Andaran atish'an, Lethallin! Would you come and help us break our fast?"

Ragnar gestured at his companions. "We would like that."

He spread his hands in a gesture of welcome. "Come, then, and sit. Join us by the fire. I am Hahren Sarel, the clan's storyteller. You have one in your own clan I assume?"

"Yes, Paivel, our elder."

"Ah! Hahren Paivel still lives? That is good, for he was old even when I was but da'len. How lucky you are to have been reared with his tales. I notice you are… not alone. These companions of yours are Grey Wardens like yourself?"

"Only me," said Hiccup and then looked at Speedfist. "But Speedfist is a recruit.

"I am Heather and no Grey Warden at all. I am honoured to be here; I've heard so much about your people."

"Andaran atish'an—enter this place in peace. I do find it odd that any of your kind would so readily follow one of the Freefolk." He glanced at Ragnar. "Do you suppose you have been made a Grey Warden simply to get our assistance? Maybe they think we would not live up to the treaty otherwise."

"I assure you that's not the case." He was about to tell Sarel that they saved him when the man angrily shook his head.

"Oh, you do, do you? No offence, young one, but you don't know half the—"

"Please, Hahren Sarel, you are being most unkind to one who is not only of our blood but also a guest who is here to help us."

"Of course… I apologise for my rudeness. Our losses have been great, and I am… not myself."

"The hahren's own wife has perished from the werewolf's curse. We are mourning her death, here, and so many more to come."

"Not if I can help it." Ragnar gave Sarel a gesture of respect.

"We are glad to hear it. I should not have suspected otherwise. These have not been easy days for us, and the idea that we may yet have to abandon our ill to their fate… But let us not dwell on our problems. Is there something we can do to help you in your quest?"

"What can you tell us about the forest?"

"I know a few tales. Our clan has passed this way many times before, even when the shemlen lived in these parts. If you wish, I can tell you what I know. It is not a long story."

"Yes, tell us of the forest."

"Our legends say that before the shemlen came, the Brecilian forest was a place of our ancestors that predated even our oldest homeland. The people of the Imperium came here and gave the forest its name. If they found traces of our ancestors, we cannot say. If they did, those elves were slain or enslaved. We know only that a great many battles were fought here; these trees grow upon the graves of those who fell—shemlen and elves both."

"And those battles… tore the Veil?" Speedfist asked.

"Indeed, very wise of you. There was so much death that the Veil into the Beyond was torn. The shemlen know the Beyond as "the Fade", the place of dreams and spirits. When the Veil is torn, spirits pass into our world freely. The legends say that one great spirit possessed the wolf that became Witherfang, who passed its curse of rage onto men and created werewolves."

"This Witherfang still exists today?" Ragnar asked.

"So Zathrian insists. He says that Witherfang does not age as the werewolves do. Witherfang is as much spirit as it is beast, and thus it is immortal. Perhaps it cannot even be slain. At the very least, it is old and powerful, much as Zathrian himself."

Hiccup leaned forward. "How many werewolves are there?"

"No one knows. When the shemlen lived in these parts, the curse would spread anew to a few of them with each passing year. They would run off into the forest, never to be seen again. Eventually, all the shemlen left. One assumes the werewolves survive by passing their curse to their offspring. They have had no new blood… until now, that is."

Ragnar glanced back towards the wounded. "Have the hunters become werewolves?"

"It is said that one or two have turned already, though the keeper denies it. As for the rest, they will either die or turn, unless…" He sighed. "They are killed out of mercy. I would rather die than become a ravening, soulless beast. Wouldn't you?"

Ragnar nodded. That was the very choice that would one day await him. "That's all we needed to know."

"One last warning: the forest is like a thing alive. It changes as it wills, closing paths behind you and opening up new ones. Too many have become lost within, unable to find their way out. Were I you I would endeavour not to make the forest my enemy."

"I thought all the werewolves in Midgard killed centuries ago?" Astrid frowned.

"So we all assumed," said Hiccup folding his arms. "It's possible that few of them managed to escape the slaughter they been repopulating ever since."

"Whatever the case it would seem as if this Witherfang is the cause of it," said Hiccup. "And the only way we're going to find it is in the woods."

"So we just jump into mortal danger, again?" Fishlegs groaned.

Hiccup shrugged. "Occupational hazard."

Ragnar approached Master Varathorn, who was busy yelling at his apprentice. "What are you doing? You've warped the wood completely? Did you leave it out in the rain?"

"No, Master Varathorn, I… I think I just used too much heat…" said his apprentice.

Master Varathorn placed his fingers on the arch of his nose. "You're not smelling ore like a durglen'en! This is living word! It requires patience and delicate hands, not more heat!"

"My actions bring me sorrow, Master Varathorn…"

"And so they should. Truly the art will be lost to us forever at this rate!" He sighed he then noticed Ragnar and his party with him. "For where your deadwood and start a new, and I shall speak to our guest."

He then turned and looked at Ragnar. "Andaran atish'an, friend. It has been some years since I met Master Ilen at the last gathering. He is still lives, I hope?"

Ragnar nodded. "He was fine last time I saw him, yes."

"That is good to hear. Your clan is more familiar to us than most since we do not stay far from each other in this land." He then gave him a sympathetic look. "I met your father, for he was once the keeper of your clan. You carry many of his features." He then looked up into the sky as if remembering a distant memory. "He spoke at the gathering, telling the clans that more of us need to voyage into the shemlen world and learn their ways. He would be proud to see his son a Grey Warden, I think."

Ever saw a tear trickled down Ragnar's cheek as he clutched his locket. "Thank you, that's kind of you to say."

They got some additional potions and other supplies, and as they walked away from Master Varathorn, Leliana noticed that he was still holding onto his locket.

"You all right?" Ragnar blinked and realised he was clutching his locket. "Oh, yes, I just wish my father could see me now."

Heather placed a hand over his wrist. "I think he would be very proud of the man you've become."

Ragnar kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you, ma sa'lath."

Meanwhile at Aresgan and the King's Council was now in session.

"So, where is he?" Drago demanded.

Viggo looked at him. "We believe that he has ventured into the Brecilian Forest and there's rumours of a large Freefolk Clan residing in it."

Krogan laughed. "He must be desperate if he's asking the assistance of knife ears."

"I would take this very seriously, Arl Krogan," said Tyrell, not looking amused in the slightest. "The Freefolk are known to be excellent marksmen and huntsmen having them on his side could assist his mobility."

"Then we search the entire forest remember or burn it down if we have to," said Drago.

"My Lord, I think that is rather extreme," said Viggo calmly. "How do we explain the common people of the burning down of forest, especially one has provided us with some lumbar. Plus we could spend weeks combing through the forest to find this clan no doubt they would send some approach before we go anywhere close to them."

Drago growled furiously in turn to Johann. "You assured me that the assassins you hired would be able to do the job. Instead, one of them has joined their ranks!"

Johann set them up awkwardly. "They're still determined to fulfil their contract, I assure you that the will prove their money's worth."

"They had better," Drago growled.

"Oh and Johann it would seem as if Oswald's son is alive and well," said Viggo with a small smile.

"What?" Johann stared. "Impossible!"

"We thought the same thing for Hiccup, it would seem as if he is not the only one who can cheat death. More and more seem to be occurring across the country, if nothing is resolved, soon I fear that Midgard will burn itself into the ground. Our only hope is for this Landsmeet."

Drago just sat there crossing his arms.