Vilfred

Nordenvania

The days had grown longer. The frozen Northern Sea started to melt. And the first buds of spring started to sprout.

Vilfred had come back from Vausterland only a few days ago. And the Lords of Nordenland now gathered in the great hall of Nordenvania, like they had done last summer when Frederik came asking for aid. But despite their success in taking Grytia back from William, it seemed that the war was still not over.

Because William wanted Grytia back. And Mikal lay prisoner in Vausterland.

"And what's wrong with an alliance with Vausterland?" Lord Pekka, a tall man with long black hair was the first to voice his opinion as Bernard apparently objected to the proposed alliance with William. "We are already sharing the gold with Frederik. What difference would it make if we share it with William instead?"

"Allying with William is a dangerous thing, with all his blasphemous policies and human rights shit," Bernard explained.

"But allying with William doesn't necessarily mean we have to adopt his policies," Lord Pekka argued.

"Lord Pekka, I am sure that none of us would adopt William's policies, but what about the humans?" Bernard asked. "I cannot open the door for Western influences and risk the outbreak of another human rebellion. Or worse, waking up to find half the human population fleeing to Vausterland, like they did two hundred years ago. It is best to keep our distance if we want to keep peace within the North."

"What peace, when we open up endless wars with the West?" Pekka insisted.

"Lord Pekka is right. We only managed to stop our war with the Kassarathi because we decided to go for a peace treaty," Lord Lefan of Mederia agreed.

"Then making peace with one enemy is more than enough," Bernard said. "We don't need to make peace with everyone who threatens to stand in our way! And since we are obliged to continue our friendship with the Kassarathi, I say we make use of that and get more mercenaries to secure Grytia, rather than give in to William's demand. We need to show those fucking Vausterians that we are not weak."

"What about... Sir Mikal?" Sir Sigurd asked. "They will kill him!"

"They will not." Bernard said before he turned to face the rest of the presence. "Mikal is the only thing they can hold against us, and they will keep trying to use him to get to us. Can't you see? They are not as powerful as they claim. Otherwise William would just attack Grytia and take it all for himself without the need for allying with us, moreover giving his only daughter to his enemy!"

Loud whispers filled the hall, and Vilfred held back a smirk, hiding his deep satisfaction behind a perfect façade of solemnness. Bernard was going in the exact direction he had anticipated. A high Council attended by every Lord in the North, with Bernard convincing everyone why it was a very bad idea to accept an alliance with William, and why it was necessary to gather their forces and get ready to face the Vausterians again.

Right after Vilfred had returned from Vausterland, he told Bernard of Mikal's plan, which he made him believe was William's proposal in the first place. He also made some alterations of course, to make it sound more realistic. For instance, he had omitted the part where Mikal asked Vilfred to kill Bernard, and the part where Mikal would announce himself King of Nordenvania. Only for the simple fact that no one would have believed it. Well, it would have served the perfect result of branding Mikal a traitor at once, and thus cancelling any intention of rescuing him. But not a single man attending this council today would have believed that Vilfred was telling the truth. Not only that, some of them might have even accused Vilfred of being a jealous liar who wanted to get rid of his brother. Which was true.

"It is still risky to leave Sir Mikal like that. We are endangering his life," a young Lord of a neighboring castle spoke for the first time.

"If they decide to kill Mikal, then he will die a hero," Bernard said. "But if we betray Frederik and give up Grytia for the Vausterians, then we are all cowards!"

Cheers filled the hall as most of the Lords welcomed Bernard's motivating speech. Still, a few Lords whispered their disapproval with pitiful looks thrown towards Vilfred, who only remained silent.

"And since we are refusing William's offer, we should be expecting another war very soon," Bernard announced. "And this time I am certain it will be far more vicious than the former. That is why we need to be well prepared. And we start preparing now! I am certain that Grytia is as important to every Lord in the North as it is important to me. So I will need your full support."

"What about getting more mercenaries from Kassarath?" the old Lord Hadrian of Cyla asked.

"Right. That as well. I am going to send to Frederik and warn him of William's scheme. I will ask him to send us more gold to hire more mercenary troops, and you Vilfred," Bernard turned to Vilfred, "shall sail East and pay Serenus for his mercenaries, both the former and the new troops. And you will bring Hilda back with you."

"Yes my Lord," Vilfred replied tensely, doing all he could not to show his great satisfaction with Bernard's decisions.

"Very well," Bernard smiled and raised his cup of wine. "To Grytia!" he cheered. And everyone followed, raising their wine cups and cheering out with passion.

As the council ended, the Northern Lords gathered to drink and chat about their former victories and the upcoming war.

"May the heavens be with you, Sir Vilfred," Lord Pekka whispered to Vilfred as he stepped in next to him, standing too close by his side. "I would never question your honor if you decide to take any drastic measures, in order to save your brother."

Vilfred's eyes widened, taking in the hint. It appeared indeed that Mikal was right about the Northern Lords not being pleased with Bernard abandoning him, and that the idea of killing Bernard was not far-fetched. Not that Vilfred was going to do that anyway. In fact he was probably the most approving one in this hall of Bernard's decisions today. Yet he maintained a grim expression on his face.

"Your brother doesn't seem very pleased as well," Pekka added a little while later.

"What?" Vilfred frowned in confusion before he followed Pekka's gaze towards one of the pillars, and he could see messy blonde hair peeking out behind it.

Hans stood hiding behind the pillar, his emotionless citrine eyes staring fixedly in Bernard's direction. Hans could be scary sometimes. It was not only because he spoke with gargoyles. But because of this cold blank stare that had never left his eyes since Lucian died. It was impossible to know exactly what he wanted or what he felt. It was impossible to tell whether he was drowning in misery or plotting murder. And not only because of his haunted stare, but also because he had not spoken a single word since Lucian was buried alive in the gargoyles graveyard.

Vilfred had only taken two steps towards Hans, before Hans quickly turned and fled outside the hall.

***

It was late in the evening, the lingering chill of winter still heavy in the air. The skies were a deep shade of grey that threatened with an ominous hailstorm. It appeared that the stubborn winter was still planning a final battle against the arriving spring. Cold winds howled and the gargoyles screeched. Vilfred cursed beneath his breath as he fought his way through the beginnings of the storm.

"Hans!" he called out as he marched deeper into the gargoyles graveyard. "Come here this instant!"

But Hans neither moved nor spoke. He remained still, his arms wound tight around the dreadful gargoyle that stood over Lucian's grave. His blonde hair was a whirling mess and his black cloak flapped all around him, slapping against the hard gargoyle stone.

A monstrous roar of thunder exploded in the skies. The winds hissed. The trees groaned. The gargoyles screamed.

Vilfred stomped angrily towards Hans. A deadly hailstorm was moments away from swallowing them whole while this mindless boy sat here hugging a dead rock in the middle of a creepy forest. Vilfred snatched Hans away from the gargoyle, and he couldn't stop the slight tremor of fear he felt as the gargoyle screamed louder, as if protesting to Hans being taken away. It's just the sound of the winds. Vilfred assured himself, before he grabbed Hans by both arms and turned towards the keep, flying as fast as he could in a battle against the turbulent storm. They reached the doors just in time before an onslaught of fatal hailfall attacked in full force.

Vilfred shoved Hans inside the keep. With their mother and Mikal gone, Vilfred was the only one left to look after this nuisance of a brother. Not that he cared at all. He had far more important things to worry about, but it would be easier when he didn't have to deal with his troublesome brother catching severe cold or suffering hailstone wounds. His lost mind and lack of speech were enough trouble already.

"Oh Hans, my darling, are you alright?" Aunt Greta asked in concern as she emerged into the hall and hurried towards them.

Thankfully she had appeared just in time to take Hans up to his room. Yet Vilfred did not leave them until he made sure Hans was tucked in bed, and fast asleep. Despite being almost sixteen, Hans was treated like a child, not because he was spoilt, but because he was not exactly normal. It was more out of precaution, watching him closely and serving him to the smallest details, lest he did something to hurt himself. Or hurt someone else.

"Do not be mad with the boy."

Vilfred was startled as he heard the words echoing within the completely empty corridor on his way back to his chamber. He turned around to look for the speaker, and for a moment he would have sworn that the walls themselves had spoken. Until a black shadow danced eerily before him, and a dark hooded woman stepped out from behind a pillar.

He could barely see her, even with the number of torches and candles that stretched along either sides of the corridor walls, for her long robes and long wild hair were as black as the night that enveloped them. Yet Vilfred could clearly tell who she was, and he let out an angry sigh. Hester...

She was an Eastern healer, or a witch, as some of the elderly superstitious Northmen called her. Along with a few others of her kind, Hester had initially sailed with the Kassarathi mercenaries to Grytia, in order to treat their wounded and perform healing spells, even though there was no such thing as healing spells as far as Vilfred knew. After the battle, Hester had shown extraordinary skills in treating the wounds of both Kassarathi and Northermen alike, so Bernard asked her to come back with them to Nordenvania to join the castle healers.

"I am not mad with him," Vilfred said.

"Your eyes betray you," Hester smiled, and Vilfred could swear he saw the flicker of a green flame glinting within her eyes for a fleeting moment, before it disappeared at once.

Vilfred shuddered and held his breath. No way. He definitely imagined it. Or perhaps it was merely the reflection of candle light in her eyes. Of course it was. She was not a witch. She couldn't be a witch. There were no such things as witches and spells and curses. Not even the absurd curse she had casted when Lucian died. No one believed that this curse was effective anyway. But it had been a custom for centuries, a ridiculous and useless custom, to send sinners and killers to their graves with the curse of an eternal sleep of terror.

"Have patience with the boy, my Lord." Hester's eerie smile deepened, doing nothing to ease Vilfred. "He holds a deep sadness, and talking to the spirits within the stones makes him feel better."

"Well, I thank you for your concern." Vilfred forced a tense smile and nodded, before he turned and left at once.

He shook his head as he walked away, silently cursing Bernard for bringing this mad woman back with them from Grytia. She might as well tell him that Lucian's soul was trapped inside that gargoyle, and that Hans was really speaking to him...

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Do you remember Hans? And do you think he could really speak to Lucian?

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