"When I’m enraged—which is most of the ti—my power floods into my S.H.I.E.L.D. Strength, health, endurance, all of it gets pumped. That’s my primary state. When I’m angry, I can hit harder and take more punishnt than should be possible for soone my level. It’s why I can fight like a demon and crush things that should break my hamr. It’s why it took five of your spectral knights to pin down during the first day despite them being level 120."
"Fear or desperation boosts F.L.A.I.R. Speed, agility, and reflexes. When I’m cornered, I move like lightning."
"Focus or curiosity boosts A.C.U.M.E.N. When I’m calm and thinking clearly, I can process information faster, spot weaknesses, and predict enemy movents. It’s subtle, but it’s saved my life more than once."
"Joy and happiness boost F.L.I.P. My attacks land in weak points. Enemy strikes miss by inches. It’s like the universe decides to help out. But let’s be honest," she grinned, "in this world, ’pissed off’ is the easiest emotion to hold onto. So, I hit things hard."
Reidar thought about this. Her power was a mirror of her personality. It was as volatile, direct, and overwhelmingly strong as she was. She finished her explanation and took another long drink of whatever she had in that canteen. "As I said, most of the ti I’m enraged. Hence why I’m unusually strong."
Reidar nodded. It made sense. Helga’s entire fighting style revolved around aggression and overwhelming force. A trait that rewarded rage with strength would complent that kind of battle style.
"So," Helga said, stretching her legs out toward the fire. "That’s my story. What about you, ’Warlord’? What’s your plan after this raid is done? You said You are heading to Creamont."
"I am."
Helga’s eyes narrowed. "Is it because of Seraphine?" She grinned again.
"She’s a pretty thing, I’ll give her that. But don’t you already have your own ice-queen follower? Chasing two skirts at once? Ambitious, and I don’t think the two skirts in question would like to know that."
Reidar sighed.
"It’s not because of sothing so shallow as sex," Reidar said. The banter was fine, but her assumptions were starting to grate. "There’s nothing between and Lena. And I’m not ’chasing’ Seraphine."
"No?"
"No," Reidar said, his voice flat. "Good for then," Helga said. She waggled her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.
Reidar went silent for several seconds, wondering how drunk she was, if she was just getting herself open to him, or if she was simply horny.
The thought of having sothing with any kind of woman didn’t even cross Reidar’s mind. He was simply too faithful.
He stared into the fire, watching flas consu wood that had sohow survived the forest fire. "I’m searching for soone. That soone is in Creamont."
His tone made it clear the conversation was over. Helga was perceptive enough to catch that.
The playful, drunken aggression vanished from Helga’s face, replaced by a sudden, sober understanding. She had crossed a line she hadn’t known was there, which was peering into the secrets and goals of a man who could kill her easily, at least for now.
She stopped asking questions. "Oh," she said. She looked down at the fire, then back at him.
"Right. I... right. I’m too drunk," she said, standing up with only the slightest wobble, but not just from the alcohol. "And I’m tired of looking at your moping face."
She left Reidar to his thoughts and wandered back toward where the Ironsides had set up their sleeping area. She stood to leave.
"Helga," Reidar said.
She paused, looking back.
"Thanks. For... the talk."
She stared at him for a long second, then smiled. "I knew the jokes would have gotten you, eventually."
Reidar then understood that Helga was simply trying to ease his mood. In the end, he was left alone again, the silence of the night rushing back in, filled only with the crackle of the fire and the not-so distant haunting thoughts of his family.
The fire crackled. The bear beside him snored. In the distance, he could hear survivors talking, laughing, and trying to find so normalcy in this nightmare.
His parents. His wife and son. Lena, Jake. There were too many people depending on him. Too many people he needed to protect.
He pulled up his quest interface, checking the progress on The Shepherd’s Gambit.
Then he would finally be able to leave the valley and head to Creamont to see how his parents were. Of course, he had to check on Lena too.
He closed the interface and stared at the fire until exhaustion finally pulled him toward sleep.
***
The camp settled into an uneasy sleep as the night deepened. Fires burned low. Guards rotated their watch, but fatigue made them sluggish. No one expected danger from within.
Two shadows detached themselves from a group of tents near the Ironsides’ territory.
The first was a woman. Thin and wiry, with short-cropped hair and eyes that glead like a cat’s in the darkness. Her na was Destiny.
She belonged to a small group. Her fingers were wrapped around daggers.
The second was a man. Taller, broader in the shoulders, but just as quiet. His na was Rook. He ca from a different group entirely. His weapon was a short sword, and a hood covered his face.
They t in the shadow of a large tent and then proceeded to their target.
"This is too easy," Rook said.
They passed between tents and bedrolls. Survivors slept fitfully around dying fires. No one stirred as the two assassins glided past.
Destiny looked around. "Be quiet. The guards are on the periter, but the archer is still a threat. Where is Kara?"
"Her tent is dark. She is asleep, like the rest of them," Rook said.
It had been weeks since they’d last spoken. Destiny was with her group; Rook was stuck watching Reidar from the shadows in another one. He hadn’t even known she was here until tonight.
"What’s happening on your end?" he asked, voice low. "Are the preparations ready?"
Destiny didn’t answer right away. Her fingers tapped one of her daggers, like she was counting seconds. "Almost," she said. "Mara’s contact confird it. But this..." She jerked her chin toward the sleeping camp. "This cos first. Silas wants the summoner dead before the next quest starts."
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