Harry Potter and the Berserker

Chapter 39

The campsite for the Band of the Hawk was a hub of activity. Just moments ago, the Hawks had swooped to the aid of a small batch of Midland's resistance fighters against a battle against the invading Kushan. As expected, Griffith defeated that batch of Kushan with his new Band of the Hawk. Among the rescued was the son of a deceased Midland Lord, Mule Wolflame.

Charlotte knew him by name, of course, Mule was a sandy-haired teenager about the same age as the one blonde girl who claimed to be a medium. His name was quite unusual being named Mule and all, but the old Lord Wolflame had been an eccentric man. From the rumors she had heard regarding Mule's name, his father was near-absent when he received word his wife was in labor so he hastened back to his holdfast on the nearest animal he could find; a mule. When Lord Wolflame found out he had been gifted a son, he overindulged on wine and named his boy after the trusty mule that delivered him home.

The story was an outlandish one, and the only reason Charlotte knew of it was because Lord Wolflame told it to her father as he proposed a marriage contract between her and Mule, despite Mule being a few years her junior. Her father refused, of course, but not because he believed Mule would be a poor match, but because he secretly lusted for her.

The memory of what he and Emperor Ganishka tried to do to her made her skin crawl. But now, her father was dead of a heart attack, and Griffith had rescued her and Anna from Ganishka's clutches.

Charlotte was forever grateful toward Griffith for rescuing her, truly, she was. So why wasn't she as happy as she should be?

All around her, the other women and children that had been rescued by Griffith in his campaign against the Kushan helped pull their weight by gathering wood for a fire, cooking meals, and doing laundry. It wasn't the work that bothered her, she had been willing to pull her weight back when members from the original Band of the Hawk rescued Griffith from beneath the Tower of Rebirth, and that was perhaps the problem, there were no others from before.

Griffith had been vague about their demise so it must have been unpleasant; the lake of blood was enough proof of that. Still, it would have been welcoming to see a regular known face within the new Band of the Hawk. Casca, the sole female warrior would have been an inspiration to the women camp followers, the boy with the nice green eyes and glasses could train with Mule and his followers, even the Raiders Captain who had given her a piggyback when rescuing Griffith would be welcoming.

Now, Griffith kept a majority of the Band of the Hawk away from those he had rescued along the way, seemingly out of concern for the people's safety. She pushed such thoughts away for now; she and Anna were preparing a stew for a few orphaned children, or, at least Anna was showing her how to cook.

A tall shadow fell across them. "Pardon my intrusion, Your Highness." It was Sir Locus, the best lance in all the land and the captain of the Hawks' Lancers. The knight bowed his head, his long black curls moved with his head.

"Oh, Sir Locus!" she offered a gracious bow of her head as well. Out of all the new additions to the Band of the Hawk, Sir Locus, Irvine, and Grunbeld seemed the most decent. "What may I do for you?"

"Our leader just asked for a moment of your time. Would you like me to escort you to him?"

"That is kind of you to offer, but I will manage."

Locus nodded in understanding. "Very well. Mmm, could I bother you for a bowl of stew? It may help with Sir Grunbeld's recovery."

It was a tragic sight. The day previous, Grunbeld had returned from a mission badly wounded, clinging to life. Grunbeld was perhaps the biggest person alive; just who or what could wound him so? Anna complied with Locus' request, filling up a bowl for him to take.