Chapter 233: A Knight’s Duty
In the Vale of Mists, while Ashlynn and Heila were making their way toward the Briar and preparing for the multitude of changes their journey would bring, other adjustments were occurring at home.
With the complete destruction of Old Nan’s village and the brutal way that Owain’s men hunted down anyone attempting to escape, a ripple had spread through the outlying villages. Arguments broke out among many village elders and even between members of the same family.
The humans had sent raids into the hills outside the Vale of Mists before, but those raids rarely breached the defenses of a village. More often than not, after a skirmish or two in the wilderness, both sides retreated while licking their wounds, each one hunkering down and swearing that the other side would pay a greater price next time.
This kind of wholesale slaughter and destruction happening so deep in the wilderness hadn’t been seen since the days of Bors Lothian’s father or even longer ago, during the era of Four Brothers when the church had dispatched dozens of Templars and Inquisitors to beat back the Eldritch people still clinging to their ancestral lands.
Now, more and more people questioned the wisdom of holding onto the homes their mothers and grandmothers had raised them in. Hearth and home were sacred to many, but land, once lost, could be reclaimed. Lives, once lost, were gone forever.
Days after Owain Lothian and his men returned to the Summer Villa, refugees continued to pour into the Vale of Mists. Ollie had run himself ragged, growing his humble field kitchen to four times the size and enlisting the help of fleeing villagers whenever there were people who seemed both capable and willing to do the work. Still, the solution was temporary at best and no one knew what the human’s next move would be.
Two nights before the Summer Solstice, a weary Ollie climbed the stairs of one of the oldest towers in the ancient keep. Thane’s summons had caught him by surprise as he was preparing to sleep. Ever since Owain’s attack on the Heartwood Clan, Ollie had been far too busy to keep up with his training, though he had the distinct impression that Thane and Marcell were every bit as busy as he was, if not more.
"Ollie, thank you for coming," Thane said when the young man entered his office. While there was a large wooden desk covered with seemingly endless reports, maps, and half-written instructions to respond to the dozens of issues occurring within the Vale of Mists, the vampire himself seemed to disdain the use of his desk unless necessary, preferring to lounge in a bench seat built into a windowsill where he could gaze out at the night sky.
"Sir Thane," Ollie said formally, bowing as he entered. Despite the vampire’s leisurely appearance, he’d learned early on that the older man’s amber eyes missed nothing, even when he didn’t seem to be paying much attention.
"You look tired," Thane said, turning away from his view of the vale to regard the former kitchen boy with greater scrutiny. "But by all accounts, you’re making a very real difference," he said, vanishing from the windowsill and appearing behind his desk in a movement so quick that Ollie missed it when he blinked.
"Do you have any idea how many of the refugees mentioned your pleas as the thing that convinced them to give up their homes?" Thane asked. "Some of those villages have been stubborn about maintaining their independence for years, but they listened to you, despite the fact that you’re human."