Chapter 49 - Forgotten

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The sun was setting, casting orange light over the snow-covered mountains. The sky had darkened and grown more cloudy; gentle snowflakes were falling down from the sky. Since they'd reached a valley which would be large enough for the army, Arwund gave the sign to set up camp; the command was immediately passed on through the line of Servants.

Later that evening, as the Servants were preparing dinner, Arwund had retreated into his tent. It still felt odd to call a commander's tent his own. It made him feel quite a bit like earl Raynnard.

And what felt even stranger, was that he would not eat with his friends tonight.

Where would they all be now? Still in that old valley? Or had they gone separate ways?

And what a goodbye it had been! He wasn't all too happy with the sour note it had ended on. Thankfully, he'd been able to write Enorwin a letter with the help of a spy in the earl's army.

As he sat there, pondering the events of the past day, Leonaro entered the tent. "Sire, we have a problem."

Arwund got to his feet. "What problem?"

"It turns out," Leonaro explained, "that we lost two carts of food, including donkeys, in a ravine today. We had already rationed the food, but after this loss, it is likely that we won't have enough to complete the journey."

Arwund was startled. "Why do we have so little?"

"Because we reasoned we would either die in the battle or take the shorter route back," Leonaro said. "But at this speed, it will take us at least a week to reach the duke's castle."

Arwund thought hard. "Can we send out more hunters tonight?"

"Certainly," Leonaro said. "I'll give the order."

"Good," Arwund said. "Let's first see if we can replenish the supplies that way."

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A few hours after dinner, Arwund was discussing the route with Leonaro and Merigunde in his tent, when suddenly, he heard noise outside.

"I'll see what's going on there," he told the others, before leaving the tent. Outside, a mass of Servants had gathered in the middle of the camp. Arwund walked towards them.

"What has happened?" he asked loudly.

The crowd immediately made way, revealing a smaller group of about ten Servants in their midst. Several were wounded; others' clothes were torn. They were armed with bows and spears: the equipment of a hunting party.

"We were attacked," one of them said. "We lost five Servants."

Arwund was shocked. "How? By whom?"

"A mountain tribe," another hunter replied.

Arwund staggered backwards. "How could that happen? Did we intrude on their territory, or...?" This was going wrong, so wrong...

"We don't know," the first hunter said. "What do you want us to do, sire?"

The question caught Arwund off guard. He was still trying to process the fact that five people had died under his lead. "I..." he mumbled.

"Sire?" he heard a Servant ask.

"I..." Arwund repeated, thinking. "I'll go to that tribe myself."

The Servants were looking at him strangely, some in admiration, others in disbelief.

"Who will join me?" Arwund asked.

Six Servants stepped forwards, including one member of the hunting party, who had come out of the fight relatively unscathed. They were all clad in leather armour and carried weapons, one woman even a sword, to Arwund's surprise.

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