The carriage came to a stop, rocking Brecken awake just in time to see the Flairus jump off the back of the carriage, closely followed by Lucas. His head still ached as he followed them, hopping off the back. They stood in a clearing in the woods; the smell of pine trees filled the air. The sun sat directly overhead beating down on them with a summer heat. Around the clearing where ten or so carriages like the one they came in, wooden frames covered with cloth wrap. The campsite bustled with people ranging from brown haired Eartheye, pale haired Windish, reddish haired Flairus, and even a few pale blue haired Aquin. Eartheye loaded wood into carriages, as a few Aquin gathered supplies, placing them in storage carriages filled to the brim with supplies.
The entire company worked together, breaking down the small fires around the camp and packing up the various things around them. The Flairus that saved them from imprisonment walked a few feet away to talk to an older man in a long robe. Lucas stood next to the carriage studying his surroundings with a grim look on his face.
"Brecken I'm... I'm so sorry. I tried my hardest. I tried to stop it but..."
The experience at the mansion felt like a nightmare Brecken couldn't wake up from. His body still shook with adrenaline. Images of his father in the tank plagued him every time he shut his eyes. His father was gone, but the reality of it felt distant. Like it happened to someone else, and he was merely present for it. The only solid thought he could muster was stronger than any emotion he had felt in his entire life, anger.
"I know," he responded after a moment of though. Deep in himself a hollowness filled him. Sadness eluded him. The only thing left was anger and determination. There would be time for mourning whenever his task was complete. "We can't change what happened. We have to keep moving, or they'll catch up and finish what they started. Did that man tell you who he was? Who are all these people?"
"I tried to talk to him, but he just said we had to wait to talk to Orhin, who I assume it's that old man he ran off to meet, but who knows."
"That Flairus has a military sigil on his shirt," Brecken said, "but I don't think these are military guild members."
"I don't think they're members of any guild at all. None of them are wearing sigils," Lucas pointed out. Brecken searched the clothes of the people around him to verify such an insane claim, finding it to be shockingly true. To not were one at all was unheard of. If they were caught without a sigil, they would immediately be reported to the nearest empire official and be taken.
The Flairus and the old man finished their conversation and walked back towards the pair. The old man was old, as old a person as Brecken had ever seen. His face was lined with age, and deep bags hung under verdant green eyes. He had a short nose that sagged despite its small size. He was tired and worn, and if the wind picked up, Brecken thought he might turn to dust and wither away.
He wore a long brown cloak that dragged on the ground as he walked, with a pointed brown hat to match. Long straight grey hair came from under the hat to flow over his shoulders, accompanied by a ling grey beard that reached down to his mid-section. He walked slowly with the help of a staff with an intricate carving made to look like a vine weaving its way to the top. Just as the others in the camp, he had no sigil to identify himself.
"They were exactly where you said they would be. If we arrived any later, they would have been killed like the other...," the Flairus stopped and cleared his throat. Directing his attention to Lucas and Brecken he said, "This is Orhin. He's the one you owe your lives to."
Lucas gave a deep formal bow. It was a practiced motion, with grace like he'd done it hundreds, maybe thousands, of times before. Brecken nodded to the old man and said "The man that they killed was my father. He died trying to protect me. Thank you for sending help. We would be dead if it weren't for your help. My name is Brecken Thatcher. His name is Lucas Lorn."
