Faywyn.

Levi's host trudged down the broad earth path leading homeward to Faywyn. Their boots, still damp from the river crossing, stirred up clouds of dust as they advanced. The sinking sun behind them cast elongated shadows over the fields and pastures. Though weary, the men marched with uplifted spirits as they drew near the distant silhouette.

The earl himself regarded the town with a mix of relief and weariness; the journey had been arduous, even for one on horseback most of the journey. Drawing closer, he discerned the smoke from chimneys rising in the distance. As he neared, an unpleasant odour wafted from the nearby tannery on the town's outskirts, deserted for reasons unknown. A chill wind swept through the clearing, unsettling the unsecured shutters of the buildings.

The earl swayed on his steed, his gaze panning around. Something was off, he realised with a frown.

"Halt," Ser Justin called from behind, momentarily disregarding their captive from Towleigh as he rode forward to grasp the reins of Levi's horse. "Something is awry, My Liege," he whispered.

Levi nodded in acknowledgement. "Dispatch someone to investigate," the earl directed.

He remained in silence as the knight carried out his orders. Ser Mannon approached his side. "How often do the tanners abandon their trade?" Levi inquired of the man as a few militiamen hastened to examine the vacant establishment. Two other knights on horseback hastened down the path toward the town. "The hides have spoiled; that's a considerable loss of income, is it not?"

"Three weeks' worth, My Lord," Ser Mannon concurred gravely as Justin rejoined them. "Though many may scorn the trade for its odour, reputable tanners are seldom negligent. They would never abandon valuable leather to decay."

The earl pondered silently as the militiamen returned from their inquiry. "The place has been ransacked, My Lord," one reported upon reaching Levi. "It appears to have been the doing of the owners themselves; none of the locks were forced, and items such as undergarments are also missing."

"Were any doors damaged?" Levi inquired.

"No, My Lord."

"And any traces of blood?"

"None, My Lord."

The earl hummed thoughtfully. "You may withdraw."

"Yes, My Lord."

"What are your thoughts on this matter?" Levi queried, turning his attention to the men at his side.

"...I am uncertain, My Lord," Ser Mannon replied after a pause. Ser Justin likewise shook his head.

The earl pursed his lips, observing as the knights who had ridden ahead returned.

"My Lord!" the lead rider exclaimed as he pulled his steed to a stop beside the earl's. "Terrible news!"

Faywyn, with its age, had gathered a handful of villages along its borders over the years. These villages, mostly independent, were overseen by a landed knight or baron who levied taxes and organized the villagers, paying tribute to the lord whose domain they inhabited.

These settlements were typically nestled in valleys or near rivers, where fertile land and abundant water were found. The focal point of each village was often a manor house, the abode of the village lord and his kin. Villagers' homes, fashioned from wood or stone and thatched with straw, clustered together in neighbourhoods connected by narrow, winding streets leading to a central market square. Here, merchants from Faywyn traded for the villagers' produce and peddled their own wares. Beyond the village boundaries lay fields and pastures where crops and livestock were tended, each family managing their own plot for a bountiful harvest.

Once such a settlement was Longboat village, where its inhabitants once flourished away from the commotion of Faywyn. As Levi approached what remained of the village, he found only desolation.

The earl and his soldiers entered cautiously, scanning the ruins for signs of life. Everywhere lay scenes of rampant destruction. Buildings lay charred and crumbling, the air heavy with the stench of smoke and decay. Piles of ash and debris smouldered, remnants of once-standing structures. Wooden beams protruded from the wreckage, and fragments of belongings littered the ground.

Streets were strewn with the wreckage of carts, wagons, and tools. Villagers' remains lay scattered, some hanging from trees or impaled on stakes. Amidst the horror stood a gruesome spectacle: a flayed and mutilated corpse, its eyes gouged, its entrails twisted into a ghastly message at its feet. Despite the extensive mutilation, Levi recognized the victim.

"Ser Limmel," Ser Justin whispered hoarsely as he dismounted. "He fought beside us at Mallowston."

"I remember," Levi replied, turning to Viscount Lancelot, who had hastened to join them. "Why have the bodies not been laid to rest? This occurred four nights past, did it not?"

"...We cleared the dead from Mells and South Rock two days ago, My Lord," Lancelot murmured, leaning close. "But your father ordered Longboat untouched until your return ... He wished for you to witness this."

Levi remained silent, his gaze returning to the grisly sight. "How many perished?" he inquired.

"Near four hundred in all three villages, My Lord," the viscount answered gravely. "Survivors who reached Faywyn spoke of the horrors inflicted by the attackers. Lord Aden dispatched hunters to seek out and eliminate them, but they fled too deep into the woods. Fearing further attacks, His Grace halted the pursuit."

"...What of the other villages?" Levi pressed.

Lord Aden ordered them to relocate to Faywyn for safety until the matter is resolved, My Lord. Few hesitated, given the marauders' brutality. Guards watch the town's outskirts should the bastards return, while many townsfolk have sought refuge in the town centre."

"...The Forest Wolves," Levi mused, deciphering the message left for him and his father. "I see what my Lord Father wishes me to see here; the bodies may now be interred."

"Yes, My Lord," Lancelot bowed.

"Thank you."

"You have returned," Aden spoke as Levi entered the chamber.

Ignoring the duke, Levi turned to Steward Robert, who stood beside Aden. "Bid the maids ready fitting chambers for Earl Lars," he commanded. "Let at least one guard ever attend upon him. He shalt not depart his chamber till I grant leave. Nor shall he entertain visitors till I permit. His meals shall be brought by you or Sarah; none else may approach him, save his guards, who must hold their tongues. Do you comprehend?"

The steward glanced at Aden, awaiting approval, which was granted with a nod. "Aye, My Lord," the steward replied, turning back to Levi.

"Leave us," Levi ordered. "I crave a word with my sire. Alone."

The steward looked to Aden once more for consent and withdrew after receiving it.

"You did seek me, son?"

"Who are the Forest Wolves?" Levi inquired flatly.

"...I recall them as a band of outlaws lurking in the central and southern woods of our realm," Aden replied after a brief pause. "They've long been a nuisance to many southern lords, extorting coin for passage on less-guarded roads. 'Tis the first time I've heard of them raiding a settlement."

"...You have no prior dealings with them, I trust?" Levi scrutinized Aden.

"None of which I'm aware... though, the message left seems aimed squarely at me."

Levi sighed, weariness etched on his face.

"What do you plan on doing, son?" Aden inquired, his tone impassive.

"This quandary is of your own making, Aden," Levi growled, "set it right."

Aden shook his head. "Aye, I own that perchance my past actions have brought this upon us, and I accept the blame. Yet remember, 'tis you who are at Faywyn's helm, not I. Should you stumble into peril, I'll counsel thee. But I'll not coddle thee as a child. No longer."

"...You make this a trial?" Levi chuckled, irritation softening in his eyes. "And what do you mean I am at the helm? You give orders without my permission. The knights and stewards all await your approval before accepting my commands. Since you seek your mantle back, why not keep it? I would not suffer you causing problems for me to resolve whilst you still shadow my every move."

The duke remained silent before replying. "Do this well, and I will deem you competent enough to be free of oversight."

"Nay. I need not accept your demands, Father. Either you assume your mantle once more or vacate it entirely. I will not compromise on this. Never."

"Alright," the duke agreed after a moment of contemplation. "Do as you will."

Levi nodded before settling himself in Aden's vacant seat. "...How are our relations with the mountain tribes, Father?" he asked, digging up a sheet of parchment, a quill and an inkwell.

"Civil," Aden replied. "Though they oft show hostility; they be a savage folk."

Levi pondered Aden's words. "...Ser Justin shall seek out those who'll parley," Levi declared. "He'll offer a bounty for the bandits I shall decree today: one hundred silver Thales for each slain, a gold Royal for each taken alive."

"...I doubt the tribes will involve themselves in a conflict not their own, son," Aden remarked.

Levi shook his head. "The Aiga be nigh impregnable to the unfamiliar," he countered. "Many armies have tried and failed to seize it. The tribesmen be warriors. Hunters. Every one of them. There'd be no battle. The Forest Wolves shall be hunted as the beasts they claim to be. Nine thousand gold Royals hath Lord Timel bestowed upon me. Three hundred thereof shall suffice for the bounty."

The duke remained silent, regarding Levi from his seat, his gaze impressed.