Herleif made his way into the seclusion of the trees, walking far enough that he could see through their sparse branches to the plain stretching back in the direction of Cinder Mill and the Great Forge. Casting his eyes southward, he took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh, thinking on how far he had come and how far he had yet to go. So much now lay behind him: the crossing from the Hallowed Bastion and the sacking of the river forts as they sailed deeper into Ashfeld, witnessing the carnage left behind by the Divine Pyre, then laying waste to their garrison at Eitrivatnen over a lake of fire. Now, he had done a whole season's worth of raiding farmsteads and villages on the march, all for little plunder and at great risk to his standing with the other Jarls after the loss of Chaldeon.

All of this now lay behind him, and he had yet to even set his eyes upon the city he had come to help conquer. If his fortunes did not change for the better soon, then it would be a sad and sorry saga he left behind for his children to hear when he returned home in disgrace.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of the brush announced his brother's arrival for their little heart-to-heart, and Herleif let slip his melancholy and hardened his heart as he set his helmet down on a fallen tree before turning to face Gunnar. His brother met him with an indifferent gaze, which was typical of when he knew that he was about to be talked down to. Herleif did not want to disappoint.

"Well?" he said, taking the first tentative step in their brewing battle, testing for a reaction rather than going on the attack.

Gunnar scowled back at him and crossed his strong arms across his chest, clearly preparing a defense. "Well what?"

"You wish to talk? Then say what you have to say. My ears are open and ready to hear whatever nonsense is on your mind." Herleif touched a finger to his ear to goad his brother on, but Gunnar remained silent and stalwart. He wasn't going to let down his defenses that easily, so Herleif would have to break the words out of him. "Hmm? Nothing? Very well, perhaps I should do the talking then. I think I shall start by asking- what are you still doing with that accursed Peacekeeper?"

"After we took the Harbor, we both agreed that she had to be watched, and that is what I've been doing," Gunnar argued. "Me alone, I might add."

"Ha! Do not hand me a cup of goat's piss and tell me it is mead, dear brother. Not when I can smell the stench of it clear in the air!"

Gunnar's hard frown twitched ever so slightly, but it was enough of a crack to keep working at. "You speak as if I keep no other company but hers."

"Do you deny it?"

Gunnar shrugged. "There's also Coal."

Herleif pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt his head aching in growing frustration. "I have half a mind to ask that Conqueror why he seems so tied at the hip to that woman as well. No, there may be the three of you gallivanting around in this queer fellowship, but it is her that ties you all together. She is the one who killed Chaldeon when we wanted him alive, as she admitted, and I will have the truth of what happened before we regroup with Erik tomorrow."

"A queer fellowship?" Gunnar retorted, ignoring the lingering threat in favor of finally attacking. "Who is the one that has been so welcoming to these Knights while Erik and Ivar treat them like dogs to beat? It is you! You are the one who speaks to their commander with respect, with kindness, and the rest of your warriors see this and wonder if their Jarl's mind has begun to turn sour for treating these Southerners like kin."

"Careful, Gunnar," Herleif growled, holding up a warning finger to his brother. He felt his anger rising, that hot pressure building up in his chest and threatening to burst out in a red flash. "This kind of talk will earn you no favors from me."

Gunnar didn't back down. He was ready to fight now; teeth bared as he glared back in defiance of Herleif's warning. "But don't you see? I am on your side, Herleif. These Knights, they are not what I thought they would be either. They fight hard. They believe in what they are doing. This raid means more to them than it does to us. This is their home, and there is so much more at stake for them if we fail!"

"If we fail?" Herleif repeated. "Fail at what? Saving Ashfeld from the scourge of the Divine Pyre? You have truly lost yourself if you think that is what we have come here to do! This raid is not about the Lion Flame's lost honor. It is only for us. For filling our ships full of silver and steel and returning home in glory, and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can rid yourself of whatever attachment you have to this troublesome woman!"

Gunnar shook his head with a half-mocking smile on his lips. "You don't believe that. Deep down, I know you don't. You may try to think of yourself as hard a bastard as Erik or Ivar, but I know you are not like them. You are a good man. A good father. You would never stand by and simply watch people suffer so needlessly. That is not who you are."

It seemed then that things had taken a turn. Herleif could feel the momentum in their battle shifting, and suddenly, attack and defense seemed to matter very little as Gunnar tried to win him over with kindness instead. The thought of making peace with his brother and marching on the Walled City together, taking on this heartless scourge and returning home as heroes, undoubtedly called to his heart, but he knew that was not what fate would have in store for either of them.

He looked at his brother with something between pity and regret in his eyes, feeling his stomach tighten into knots. "It does not matter who I might wish to save. This is Erik's raid, and I know he will want the loss of Chaldeon paid for in blood. My goal is to make sure it is not paid for by ours."

Gunnar went quiet, searching for any sign of doubt in his brother's eyes. Herleif made sure to show him none.

"Then tell him to find it somewhere else," Gunnar said at last, his voice as hard as iron. "Priscilla is not at fault here. Erik has no claim over her life."

"She has stated otherwise."

Gunnar answered his dissatisfaction with an aggravated snort. "You weren't there, Herleif. You wouldn't understand."

Herleif's brows rose upon his head. "So you keep saying, and you seem to think I do not know the whole truth because of it." He looked around at the empty trees around them, arms spread to bring Gunnar's attention to their overabundance of privacy. "It is just you and me here. If there is a story to tell, then now is the time to tell it."

Glancing about the woods, Gunnar turned back to Herleif with a half-amused grin as he shook his shaggy head. "To Hel with you," he smiled, slowly stepping away as if he was about to leave.

Herleif squinted in confusion and frustration after him. Was he retreating? Not if he could help it. There was clearly more to tell, and he would have it out of his brother. "Do I not deserve to know?" he asked, following his brother's steps. "Tell me the story, Gunnar."

Gunnar stopped backing away, seeing now that there would be no easy escape, and deciding instead to stand his ground. "It doesn't matter what the story is. You are my brother. What matters is that you should have stood with me on this, whatever the tale might be. Priscilla is not going to Erik, and neither is Coal."

Herleif stared very hard at his brother as he came close. "I am your brother, but I am also your Jarl. I did not think that you needed another lesson in this after we left Cinder Mill, but I will remind you now for the last time. It is not your decision to make." He took one final step toward Gunnar, looking to break this stalemate for good. "We will not fall because of this. Priscilla will answer to Erik for what she has done, and we will move on. That is my final word."

Gunnar shoved hard at Herleif without another word, sending him stumbling backward, but Herleif did nothing to stop it. If this was what it took to make his brother see sense, then so be it, so long as Gunnar knew what he was starting. Straightening himself, Herleif smiled before shoving Gunnar back, and just like when they were children, the fight was on.

Gunnar immediately dropped his shoulder and charged forward, driving the wind from Herleif with a wheezing grunt as they collided. For an instant, there was a whirl of the tree tops reaching up toward the blue sky before there was only the thick trunks and dark earth as they slammed into the ground. Dazed as he was, Herleif could do little to stop Gunnar from scrambling over him and wrapping a thickly muscled arm around his neck.

"She will not go," Gunnar growled as he squeezed his arm under Herleif's jaw, working to keep his superior position. "I won't let you take her... Now yield!"

Herleif gurgled out his rebuke through gritted teeth and felt his air constricted by his brother's grip, but he was hardly out of the fight yet. A well-placed jab of his elbow to Gunnar's side forced out a gasp of pain, and as he felt his brother's strength weaken by just a hair, he grabbed hold of the braided beard rope hanging from Gunnar's chin and yanked hard. Gunnar let out a sharp cry and tried to resist for as long as he could, but Herleif only pulled harder until he finally removed his brother, like tugging a horse along by a lead.

"Ah! That's a dirty trick!" Gunnar exclaimed as he rolled away and got back to his feet, rubbing at his stinging chin and tugging at his braid to make sure it was all still there.

Herleif let out a few hacking coughs as he, too, stood up but couldn't help but laugh a little at the angry look on Gunnar's face. "Aye...but effective. Something new from young lack-beards, eh?"

Gunnar frowned and snarled, still rubbing at his chin before he suddenly made a grab for Herleif's own beard to repay the insult. Dodging clear just in time, Herleif quickly grabbed hold of Gunnar's shoulder and slammed his forehead into his brother's face, wincing at the blinding-hot pain that sent them both reeling back from each other. That move definitely hurt a lot less while he was wearing his helmet.

By the time his vision cleared, it was too late to react as Gunnar came at him again. All at once, Herleif felt the wind knocked out of him as he was swept off of his feet for the second time. They fell together, crashing upon the earth in a flurry of punches, kicks, and snarls. Herleif wasn't sure where he stood when it came to winning or losing, not until he was shoved down with a surprised cry and got a mouth full of dirt with Gunnar on top of him.

"You were fine to ignore her as we sat victorious in Eitrivatnen," Gunnar growled, shoving Herleif's face into the ground and holding him there, "but now that you actually stand to lose something, you are so quick to throw her to the wolves!"

Herleif refused to stay down, spitting dirt and pushing himself up off the ground just enough to throw back another elbow and catch Gunnar in the cheek. He felt Gunnar roll off of him and acted quickly, grabbing hold of his brother's wrist and twisting it behind his back, growling with effort to force his submission.

"A mistake I plan to fix soon enough!" he exclaimed. Gunnar thrashed and shook to get free, but Herleif only wrenched his arm behind his back all the more. After a moment longer of struggle between them, Gunnar was finally forced onto his knees, and Herleif got up to his feet behind him. "Yield, you fool! Tell me why I should spare her. I know you are hiding something!"

"There is nothing to tell!" Gunnar yelled, trying to strike back with his free arm, but Herleif stood clear of his fist and kept him under control.

"You would lie to me? Your Jarl?" Herleif shouted back, stepping in after another missed strike to put his knee into Gunnar's back. He pushed his brother over, setting his weight on top of him as he pulled back on his arm, making sure there was no way Gunnar would be getting up until he allowed him to do so. "Tell me! Test me, and I will break your arm!" To drive his point, he pulled his brother's wrist up behind his tensed back, twisting his shoulder to its limit in a knot of muscle.

Gunnar gritted his teeth and snarled in pain but refused to cry out as he hissed the words. "Nothing... to tell..."

"Liar!" Herleif dug his knee into his brother's back. Gunnar's snarl became a desperate roar, every muscle of his body tense as he tried to break free, but Herleif would not relent. "Tell me!"

"I would be dead without her!" Gunnar suddenly shouted with thunderous fury.

Herleif froze, grip tight on Gunnar's wrist and knee pressing against him, but he no longer struggled to keep his brother down as he had been doing. Gunnar went still as well, simply panting his frustration and anger now rather than continuing to fight. The trees grew quiet around them, with not even the birds to whistle and chirp after their fight had driven them away.

"Gunnar..." Herleif began, but didn't know what to say next, so instead, he let go of the grip he had on his brother's wrist and quickly got off of his back.

Gunnar shot up onto his knees as soon as he was free, snarling over his aching shoulder like a wounded beast and flexing his fingers to bring some feeling back to his hand. He refused to look back at Herleif, sitting hunched and brooding for a long moment before finally speaking again.

"The gates of Valhǫll were nearly opened to me, and if not for Priscilla, I would surely be feasting with our father and the gods at this very moment," he said, giving a mirthless laugh as he let his head fall back on his shoulders. "Robbed of a glorious death by a Knight. What greater insult could there be? Surely the gods are laughing at me now. But somehow..." his voice trailed away as he stared up at the sky, hands tightening into fists upon his lap, "...somehow I am grateful."

Herleif stared down at Gunnar in silence, shaken to his core. "Grateful?" he asked quietly once he finally found his voice. "Of course you are grateful. How could you not be?" Suddenly, he didn't feel like he had it in him to keep standing, much less keep fighting, and he clapped his hand on Gunnar's shoulder as he slumped onto the ground next to him, the same shoulder he had threatened to break just a moment ago. Somehow, none of that mattered, and he was just glad to have his brother there to lean against. "What is wrong with being grateful to be alive?"

Gunnar's back swelled as he took in a breath, letting it out again long and slow. "Vincent had me by the throat. Coal too. We fought him as hard as we could, but... Priscilla did what she had to do. I was furious with her afterward, same as you even." He shook his head, finally glancing at Herleif. "She saved my life. I owe her everything."

Herleif looked back at his brother, holding his somber gaze and giving a slow nod in understanding. Somehow, this all came as a surprise to him, and he felt like such a fool because of it. In his anger, he had been so focused on Priscilla's unforeseen involvement in Chaldeon's death that he had failed to wonder why his brother hadn't been able to capture the Lawbringer alive. Gunnar was right; he should have been on his side from the beginning, but instead, he had only let him down. Still, after all that Gunnar had finally shared, there was still something that wasn't clear.

"Why would you fight so hard to keep this from me?" Herleif asked. "There is no shame in surviving a hard fight."

Gunnar frowned and looked away, shrugging his great shoulders. "It is not that simple."

"It must be," Herleif urged. "She is a Knight, and a dishonored one at that. Saving you will not absolve what she did. Not in Erik's eyes." His brother tensed against him, but he didn't look back or speak. "Gunnar," Herleif continued, refusing to be ignored, "what are you still hiding?"

They sat in silence for a long moment, longer than what Herleif wanted to allow. But he felt he owed his brother enough to let him come to the truth in his own time as long as he did share the truth in the end. From the sinking feeling in his gut, he was already beginning to suspect what the truth was that Gunnar was so afraid to share.

"Herleif, I..." Gunnar said at last, but his low voice faltered nearly as soon as he began. He shifted where he sat, and Herleif could feel the struggle coming off his brother like a raging fire. Gunnar hissed, willing himself to say what he had to with the same effort of pulling a blade free of a bloody wound. "The truth... The truth is..."

Herleif could not sit by and watch his brother carry on in anguish any longer.

"You care for her," he cut in, hoping to ease Gunnar's burden and set him free of his fears. "You need not say it if you wish, but I know it is true." Gunnar whipped around to look at him over his shoulder, eyes full of shock and confusion. Herleif pressed his lips tight together, trying to offer a comforting smile, but he wasn't sure how convincing it was. "I will not pretend to understand. In my own way, I know I have not treated these Knights as the enemies we once thought of them as, but Gunnar, she is a woman of Ashfeld. That cannot be overlooked."

Gunnar's wide eyes ignited with a spark of anger, and the painful uncertainty surrounding him a moment ago quickly transformed into wrath.

"What is there to understand?" he said, spitting the last word with malicious venom. "If there was anyone, anyone in the realm of men who would understand, I thought it would be you!" He snorted like an angry bull as he turned away, shoulders hunched. "You are not a heartless man, Herleif. I know it. I have said it! You know that she does not deserve any punishment. Just let this go, and all will be well, I promise you." His anger only seemed to radiate off of him more and more, so it surprised Herleif when Gunnar suddenly looked at him again with pleading desperation. "Please Herleif. I'm asking you as your brother... don't do this."

Herleif wasn't sure what to do. At the news of Chaldeon's death, he had cast Gunnar off without thought or care. He had acted rashly, letting his anger lead his actions. But now the truth was out between them, and Gunnar was asking him to be on his side, to stand together as brothers in what he believed to be right. Deep down in his heart, Herleif knew it was right.

That did not change the fact that blood would be shed for this mistake.

"If only I could," Herleif said softly, his throat feeling tight as he spoke.

As out of place as it seemed, a memory from the high tower of the citadel in Eitrivatnen slipped into his mind, and with it, the hard words of that hateful bastard, Ivar the Red. Hard words, but one that gripped his heart in a vice of cold steel.

Warriors die. That is war. That is our way of life.

Herleif clenched his jaw tight, and looked out past the trees southward to Cinder Mill. "I wish that I could..."

If you wish to go home, then kill!

"...but she is a Knight, and we will succeed at nothing by making Erik our enemy." Swallowing hard, Herleif looked back to his brother with a coldness that wasn't to be questioned and the complete authority of a Jarl. "I am sorry, Gunnar. You must let her go."

The naked pain on Gunnar's face was matched only by the unbridled fury burning in his eyes. His entire body stiffened, each muscle clearly outlined and tensed beneath the skin as he took long, slow breaths. Silently, Herleif wondered if their fight would begin all over again, only this time it would be an all-out war. Perhaps one that they would never come back from again as brothers. He took a slow breath, steeled himself to his brother's anguish, and stared him down in cold silence. The world went deathly quiet, waiting, just waiting for the moment when a bond between brothers counted for nothing.

Gunnar sprang up from the ground without a word, causing Herleif to flinch back and raise his fist, but he was already marching off into the trees by the time he realized what was going on. With a great crash of shaking branches and cracking brush under heavy boots, Gunnar stormed away like hot iron melting through ice until he was swallowed up by the wilderness and passed out of sight completely.

The fight was over, and Gunnar was gone.

Herleif remained sitting where he was, staring after his brother and blinking in surprise. Everything remained quiet for a long while after Gunnar's departure until the first birds finally began to return to the trees and strike up their chirping songs. With a long sigh, Herleif got up and dusted himself clean. The day had gone on for much longer than he wished, and the thought of regrouping with the other Jarls outside the Walled City did little except spark feelings of exhaustion in him. Before anything else could be done, though, Priscilla would have to be brought before Erik for judgment. It only made the whole ordeal weigh heavier on his mind, but it had to be done.

Maybe Gunnar would forgive him in time, or perhaps this would be an unhealable wound that would exist between them for the rest of their days. He would pray that the former would come to pass in the end, for his brother's sake more than his own. Herleif had made his choice, and he would not shrink away from the path he walked on now. Standing a moment longer with his thoughts, he finally snatched up his helmet and started through the trees down the path left behind in his brother's wake, willing himself not to feel the pain and anger still lingering in the air.

This was war, and there would only be more casualties before the end.