The wagons creaked under the weight of the harvest, groaning wood heard throughout the clearing. Sacks of potatoes, carrots, and herbs were stacked higher than the boys could see over, tied down with thick rope and wedged between crates of beets.
The air was pungent with the smell of dirt and triumph.
Isgram stood tall at the head of the caravan, arms crossed, fire-touched eyes scanning the treeline. He'd stripped down to a sleeveless tunic, his axe slung across his back, skin dusted with soil and sweat.
"Line those sacks tighter!" he barked. "If anything falls off, we're feeding the wolves and trust me, we don't want them to reproduce!"
The boys jumped to obey. Hugo and Yerevan struggled with the last load, while Figo jogged beside the lead wagon, keeping pace like a half-trained hound. The villagers who had come to assist moved with a wary respect—more for the cancelled bounty than for the chosen ones.
Fang watched from the edge of the clearing, one arm resting on a hoe like a scepter.
His gaze was scarily calm, and the villagers made sure not to look into his eyes.
Whispers traveled in broken fragments, passed like bad omens.
"Don't look in his eyes. He'll take your soul, just like the stories.""My neighbor swore his cousin hasn't spoken since staring too long.""The necromancer drains spirit, not blood. That's why he still looks young.""Even the spirits flinch from him. Medevive said so."
One man muttered low, glancing over his shoulder.
"Fujin said it at the meeting. Don't provoke them, or else Fujin will take care of us like he did to that fat bastard."
The villagers were terrified for a good reason.
Before they were sent there, they had a meeting with Fujin to prepare them for the task.
A fat merchant was sitting with his hands on his belly, clearly not affected by the harsh winter that had just passed.
The harvests of Davra have always been lacking, especially since the land was still bloody from the skirmishes with the dwarves a couple of years ago.
The room was filled with the best and most wealthy merchants in Davra, some owning several businesses in the vicinty.
"Chief, do we really need to trade with those savages? Why won't we just take the food and go?"
Fujin let out a sigh and pulled a report copied for everyone in the room.
He handed it to his assistant to pass it between them, "The following is a report compiled by Whitemoor and summarizes the actions they took against the chosen ones.
As you can see, the majority of their actions have one outcome."
The merchants saw the numerous actions and the death toll each one of them took, and they all had one thing in common: Not even one of the chosen ones died at the hands of the assailants.
But they had another thing in common:
Almost all of the attackers were dead by the dawn of the next day.
There were survivors, but they were as rare as food in the winter.
"Now do you see why the chosen ones are not to be fought? Even I would not win without making a sacrifice, even with help from my daughter."
The merchants were angered at first, but soon they understood how lowly they are in this world.
Money ruled the world, but without power, money was not kept by the same person.
This is the reason so many merchants held private squads and sometimes armies, but they would all lose to those who mastered the ways of the divine.
And now, a trio with unlimited potential has arrived in the neighborhood and threatens the power balance.
To those merchants, this is the worst spell one can cast on them.
Fortunately, Fujin made sure to remind them of the real worst spell that can befall them:
Death itself.
The same fat merchants seemed to seethe, but he kept quiet or else he would risk being dropped from the deal.
This is a way to get 5 percent of the deal, which was a way too good deal in this winter as food was scarce.
All he needed to do was to load what he could on his wagons, and 5 percent of it would remain his.
"Chief Fujin, how do you plan to deal with this new threat then? Surely this is just a temporary agreement, right?"
Fujin smiled, but his eyes stayed cold and piercing.
"This new 'Threat' Is no threat but our newest allies."
The room was shocked.
The merchants started to lose it as they started shouting and complaining to no end.
While they went on and on, Fujin just smiled as they understood he did it to disarm their influence in his village.
Fujin was debating the right way to stop the corrupt merchants from raising the prices of food through the roof each winter, and in the last 8 years since he became the chief of Davra he did not find any way to do it effectively without crippling the village food supply chains.
Every time he reached an agreement with Whitemoor for aid, he was met with a stone wall made of bribes made by the traders.
The shouts quieted down at one point, and Fujin raised his hand so they would let him explain the matter:
"As happy as I am that you all care about this village so deeply, I am the one who decides who is our ally and who... Isn't."
The merchants looked away, and the fat merchant seemed to fan their dissatisfaction further.
"And let's say we go there, what prevents them from using us for their cruel experiments? They hold a necromancer in their midst, and such abominations can't be our allies!
Have you forgotten the demon kind and their demise?!"
up untill now, Fujin anticipated the responses they gave but this was infuriating for him.
The mana in the room riled, and winds swirled with anger.
"YOU MAGGOT! You dare speak of the race wars so lightly?!"
The merchant now fell backwards, and his seat broke under the weight of his words.
Now on the floor, the merchant looked upwards to see that Fujin now floated above the table, and the rest of the merchants sat mortified as they knew they should not move a single muscle.
"S-Sir Fujin, P-Please stop this, I did not mean it like that!"
"Stop this? Oh, but why should I? You greedy bastards have forgotten your place, have you?
While I was on the battlefield, killing those demons, you were hiding here under the coats of your fathers! None here fought in this war, all thanks to me!
You ungrateful bastards...
This is it, I am done with you!"
The winds around Fujin formed a visible wind blade, ready to bisect the fat merchant.
In response, the fat slob peed his pants as he cried, begging for mercy.
Fujin raised the blade and dropped it down on him.
It was over in a second, and the metallic smell of blood was now present in the air.
Manipulated by Fujin's winds, the smell reached the noses of all of the other merchants.
They were all frozen in place, not one dared to look at the scene caused by Fujin.
Fujin let his winds die down, and he dropped to the floor slowly.
His hair was a mess, and he brushed it with his fingers.
"Now, does anyone have anything to say further?"
The silence was accompanied by the smell of blood in the air.
-----------------------------------------
Back at the current time at the Haven.
Isgram set out on his trading journey with the caravan, and the boys accompanied him.
Gaia paced with her usual restless energy, fingers tapping against the stone of Fang's worktable as he laid out the human mana stone under a tight cone of focused light.
"So," she said, "resurrecting a human soul. Big leap from rabbits."
Fang didn't look up. His voice was calm, almost cold. "You're still here."
"Of course I'm here," Gaia said, sounding almost offended. "You think I'd let you do this alone?"
He finally glanced up. "Since when do you care about my magic?"
She grinned. "Since I started writing a book."
Fang blinked. "What?"
She was twirling a quill between her fingers. "Gin gave me a blank book and a set of pens before we left.
She said, Record everything. Your journey, the travels, and each of your magical feats. Consider it a personal favour for me."
Fang raised an eyebrow. "She trusts you with writing the truth?"
Gaia's smirk widened. "She said she's looking forward to reading it. All of it."
He exhaled, sitting back slightly. "So now I'm your main character?"
"More like the mystery subplot," she said, stepping closer. "But yes, I want to see this recorded as it is certainly one of the most intriguing uses of mana."
Fang turned his attention back to the mana stone, fingers tracing the swirling energy trapped within.
"This one's different," he said. "Elven soul, and with it a High mana density."
"You think you can bring him back?" Gaia asked, softer now.
"I don't need to bring him back," Fang replied. "I need to understand if I should."
He lit a purple flame beneath the stone. Purple light coiled around his fingers, and the flames engulfed the stone.
Gaia sat down nearby, cracking open her book.
"Alright then," she said, dipping her pen in ink. "Let's see what happens when the dead refuse to stay that way."