Four weeks ago. 

Greehold, seat of house Greer.  

When the green roofed tiles of Greehold came into view, Ser Ophra rode ahead with two knights to prepare for the arrival of the caravan. She was to speak to Thorgal first. Between him and Vanera, he was the more level headed of the two. Varwynia told Threngar to close the window and pull the blinds. The last thing they needed was the people panicking of seeing an orc, as an ambassador or a prisoner.    

“You swore on oath to my father to keep me safe, I will do as you say.”   

Greehold erupted into cheers when the caravan passed through its gates. Me, women and cheered waved strips of green cloth or pictures of a boar, shouting their adoration. Children were seated on the heads of the large boar statues just to have a chance to have a peek at their Varangia. Or the massive war mammoth behind her. Gregor, always humble, was flexing his muscles at the crowd, receiving a quite few cheers (and looks) from the fairer sex. Stantor was used to the din of battle so thankfully he had no problem with adoring crowds.    

“Lady Varwynia has returned!”    

“Long live Lady Greer!”    

“Death to the blackbloods!”    

“I want to ride the big tusk horse!”    

Captain Amelie rode next to Varwynia, smiling. “It seems your people have missed you.”   

A sense of pride swelled in her chest.” The people of Greehold are honest, brave and loyal.”   

“If a bit smelly.” Halmadir chimed in, receiving a playful smack from his new wife.    

“You think everyone is smelly.” she retorted.    

“It’s a burden for my sophisticated elven senses.” the druid of Tal Arand grinned cheekily.    

“Are you saying I smell then?”   

“A little, if only because you end up helping your smallfolk with nearly everything they do.”    

Another smack was her reply to which he chuckled.    

Amelie shook her head at the newly-weds.    

The caravan rode upward toward the inner citadel, waving at the common folk as they went. The incline was quite steep and Stantor had to help the caravan with a strong push of his tusks to get it up.    

Once behind the closed gates, which were made to be tall enough to allow the entry of a war mammoth, Varwynia opened the door for Threngar.   

The orcling gasped as he saw the beauty of the castle. The large statue of Greer the first, holding his battle axe, greeted him. Green roof tiles and banners amazed the little orc. Smaller statues of fierce boars did seem to scare Threngar slightly as did the worried expression of the inner guard. But the beauty of the flowers and elm trees inside the wall banished those thoughts quickly.    

“Welcome to Greehold.” Varwynia smiled. She looked back to see Amelie enter the hold already with two of her paladins.    

“This place....” he was at a loss for words.    

“I know, I was just the same when I first arrived here.” She knelt down next to him.” It can be overwhelming.”   

He saw men and dwarves patrol the inner walls, crossbows at the ready, trebuchets trained to aim at any threats that would come from the outside. When she first arrived so many years ago, she saw those men as jailors, men who took the plains away from her. That same worry seemed to be on Threngar’s face now, replacing the earlier glee.    

“Those men will keep you safe.” Varwynia placed her hand on his tiny shoulder.” I know how you feel. This is not a prison but a fortress.”   

“Looks the same from here.” he replied.   

She smiled weakly.” When I was a girl, I was brought here by my father of my trials on the plains. It felt like a prison to then. Confining, the walls closing in. It drove me mad. I always tried to escape, got into loads of trouble. I felt very alone.”   

“What changed?” the son of Gorvar asked.    

She smiled. “My uncle gave me a job, a purpose. Told me to focus on that, have your world be the one job and focus all your attention on that. In time, and with trust, I could leave these walls.”    

He took heart in that. “I do my job, I get to explore?”   

“Maybe. I’ll see what I can do.” She looked up and saw the familiar robed younger man walk down with two necromancers. A smile came to her. She patted Threngar’s back. “Stay here for a bit, I need to speak to my siblings.”      

She nearly ran over to Thorgal and gave him a hug. Holding him in a bear grip.     

The scribe gasped for air but returned the gesture.    

“It’s good to see you as well, sister...” Thorgal gasped.” But please, air....”   

The Varangia released him, giggle snorting.” Sorry, Thor. I forgot how delicate you are.”    

“I prefer to think how strong you are.” he replied with a kind smile. Halmadir and Gregor gave the two siblings a moment to chat as they talked amongst themselves.” I feared the worst, I’m so sorry my Necromancers couldn’t have done more.”   

His escorts did not seem to share his shame.   

“They did all they could, Thor.” she replied.” Gorvar the Red is a powerful foe...he’s unlike any orc we’ve ever seen.”    

Thorgal peered over to Threngar who was inspecting a bank of roses, a guard nearby.” I gathered. Ser Ophra told me but...” he was picking his words.” A truce? With orcs? Var, this is the kind of thing that gets whole houses exiled to the East Marches.”     

“I know how it sounds like.” Varwynia held her brother’s hand.” But you know me. I’d never even entertain the idea unless I had a reason.”   

“I know.” Thorgal nodded.” But I also know you often act without thinking things through.”   

She folded her arms.” Name one.”   

“Freeing all the horses from the stables and riding them down the streets.”   

“I was thirteen!”   

“Fourteen and drunk.” he corrected.” There was also trying to steal Uncle Hadgar’s prized marble chessboard.”   

“You wanted to play with it!”   

“Sleeping with that stable boy in Vanera’s bed-”   

She shushed her brother.” Alright fine, aside from THOSE things....”   

“And your sudden marriage to Halmadir.” he concluded.” Of which I want to say congratulations.”   

She smiled.” Thank you...it’s been a while coming.” she sighed. ” Look, all I want is the best for Greehold. Always. What Gorvar told me of this.... Grey Hunger, I believe him. There were children there, Thor. This wasn’t an army that wanted to invade, these were people running. And if something scares orcs, shouldn’t that scare us?”   

Thorgal rubbed his small beard thoughtfully.” I see your point...very well. Come, let’s try to convince our sister.”   

Varwynia held her brother again.” Thank you.” She pecked him on the cheek.    

With a smile she waved over her husband and Gregor who came over.    

“THORGAL!” Gregor shouted on the top of his lungs and smacked his half-brother on the back, knocking the wind out of his lungs.” Still reading books for a living?”   

“Quite...” Thorgal replied in a gasp.    

Halmadir merely bowed his head politely.” It seems we are brothers to now.”   

The scribe smiled and motioned to the Citadel.” Let’s go inside.”    

The footfalls sounded like thunder steps on the Karag Bolg marble, Varwynia’s heart felt like bursting out of her chest. Convincing Thorgal, whom she was always closer to as a child, was one thing. Trying to convince the leader of their house was another. If there was one thing Vanera inherited from the Greer line, it was stubbornness. She hated orcs with all her heart for reasons Varwynia cannot fault.    

The guards opened the door to the inner throne room. Inside the dignitaries of several smaller houses sworn to House Greer and the ambassador of Karag Bolg fell silent. She spotted Ser Ophra who stood with the honour guard, a small nod in her direction. Vanera was seated on the wooden throne of Greer, shaped like a boar with a gaping maw. Her hands were on the boar’s tusks. She was in conversation with Captain Amelie when the chatter stopped.    

“Lady Varwynia, Lord Thorgal, Lord Halmadir and Captain Gregor!” the valet shouted as the four entered.    

“Oh, Captain!” Gregor exclaimed.” I forgot I had that rank here...”   

Varwynia nudged her brother in the ribs before moving to the throne.    

She knelt before her sister.   

“Welcome back, Varwynia.” Vanera sounded genuine.” We were worried about you.”   

“Thank you, Vanera.” the Varangia replied and stood. “Did Ser Ophra tell you?”   

Lady Greer lifted her chin. Compassion gone in her voice. “She did. As did Captain Amelie.”   

Varwynia nodded.” And?”   

Vanera lean in closer.” I was waiting for you to explain why I shouldn’t clamp you in irons for treason.”   

Present.            

Beyond Farwol's ridge, Eastern Marshes.         

Near New Hamlet   

The din of battle sounded nearby. Without question, Varwynia rushed ahead on her black and white horse towards it. Already in her mind’s eye she could see Sheva rolling her eyes as Bowen was changing into his werewolf form to catch up.   

She urged Cloudcatcher, she dubbed the horse, onward towards the noise. They broke through the foliage into a bloody scene.    

A caravan was under attack by the Grey Hunger. Its defenders, Elite Exiles she guessed by the red crown banner on the lead caravan, were fighting their best but it was clear they were no much.    

She urged Cloudchaser onward, her spear at the ready. Her eye fell upon one of the outlying undead like a predator on a herd of prey. She steered towards it.    

A Walker slowly turned to face her but could do nothing as her spear severed his head from its neck. She ululated, by the gods it felt good to be back in the saddle! She rushed onward to the caravan which was steadily being driven back.    

They would’ve been already overwhelmed were it not for three fighters.    

She spotted one of her kin, a barbarian. His rune sword and battle axe cut through the undead as he cried out to the goddess Ran. His blue tattoos a sharp contrast on red blood on his naked torso.    

A goblin in a red hood was slashing away, cutting the undead at their tendons which made easy work as they fell down, a dagger to the back of the skull to finish the job.    

But the strongest one of them all was a white bearded dwarf. His rune axe shone like a miniature sun as he cut through the undead like a scythe for harvest.    

“Rally around me!” his voice boomed like a giant’s.” Rally around me and don’t you dare die! I got work enough already!”   

That voice, she realized, sounded so much like....   

“Uncle Hadgar?” 

Present,   

Near New Hamlet.    

It was like seeing a god of war at his element. The dwarven rune axe cleaved through the undead, runes flashing when it made contact with putrid flesh. Green ichor rained dow from the sky on the dwarven armour.    

He swung his axe with expertise, conserving energy by only making correct axe strokes with the correct amount of push.    

For a moment, she thought of her uncle who used a similar technique with his warhammer, a pile of orc corpses around him. Were it not for the wrinkles, the expression of a timeless statue and the massive white beard, the dwarf could have been her uncle.   

By his side were a few other men bearing the Elite Exile tabard. "Ironfist! Iron within, Iron without!" she heard faintly as they fought on.    

Ironfist, she heard that name before. Thorgal spoke of it but she could not recall the context.    

She snapped herself back to the present and charged towards the undead flocking towards the dwarf and the caravan he was protecting with his companions. Cloudcatcher was well trained, despite the din of battle and the horrible smell of the undead the horse did exactly as Varwynia asked of her. It's hoofs stomped on the undead as it ran one over, it bite another on the shoulder which gave her rider enough time to impale her own rune spear through the head.    

Her spear darted around like a viper, stinging the walkers where possible. After impaling another she took stock away from a group of Walkers and flicked the blood of her blade with a practiced turn of her wrist.    

In the distance she heard a wolf howl. She turned her head as Bowen leapt into the battle, claws and fangs already dripped with undead ichor.    

"Reinforcements!" the dwarf shouted above the din." Clear them a way!"    

"Clear them a way!" Another voice followed up as the Elite Exile men hastily followed orders.    

The few defenders on top of the carts fired bolts from their carts, paving a way for the werewolf.    

Sheva rushed behind him, running to the caravan and aided the wounded.    

The Varangia made a few more rounds around the herd of undead, hamstringing and impaling where she could.    

Sensing the momentum was gone, Varwynia jumped off Cloudchaser and urged her away as she rushed to the caravan's defenders. It was up to proper butcher's work now.    

The red hooded goblin darted between the Walkers, stabbing and cackling as he went. He made a way for her, ensuring no Walkers were on her way. He waved her over." This way, lady!"    

Warily but knowing there was no true alternative, she followed the goblin as the dead rushed behind her. She rubbed her green ring for luck, hoping Halmadir would guide her through this.    

The barbarian stayed his rune sword and axe long enough for her to take a place among their circle of defenders, Lunatice running through his legs." I ain't doing that again, old man!" He cried.   

"You better or I'll kick your green arse back into the herd!" The dwarf shouted as he withdrew his axe from a slain creature.    

"Did Ran send us a warrior maiden or do my eyes deceive me?!" the bald barbarian laughed, sweat and ichor glistening of his biceps.    

She recognised the tattoos up close, the patterns of interwoven blue and markings. Markings of clan Khan, rivals to her own clan back on the plains, clan Khengis. Both clans often came to blows over the centuries, only their common hatred over the balurspawn kept them from going to full on war. Hopefully that unspoken truce also lasted into exile.   

"Khan?" She asked, getting her spear ready.    

He paused a moment." Yes. Khengis?" she nodded." We'll have to tally scores later then."     

"Sounds good to me." As to elaborate on that, she impaled one through the chest which allowed the Khan man to chop his head off with his axe. "Good chop! Thorgal, right?"   

He slammed his rune sword into one' skull." Aye, how do you know me?"   

"Sylva send us." she replied.   

The man's boisterous nature faltered slightly." Oh..."   

Very rarely had she seen barbarians, let alone Khan men, look afraid or even allow themselves to feel fear. Either he truly felt a fear for the dryad warlord that made Balur himself look like nothing more than a small goblin with a dirk...or he did not fear for his own life. She noticed a golden bracelet around his wrist, a betrothal wristband. Sylva, you cruel clever bitch she thought. Now he had to help her.      

"Northman!" the dwarf snapped." Focus, or else I'll kill you myself!"   

The barbarian's mood changed and glared at the son of Bran." You can try, Dainson!"   

Varwynia pulled back her bloodied spear as she turned to see the dwarf." Dainson? Your name is Dainson?"   

"Aye, what of-" he stopped when he saw her spear, it's runes glowing still despite the green ichor that dripped off it. For a moment, the cragged rock like face of the dwarf became soft with nostalgia." Where did you get that?"   

"Hadgar Dainson gave me this." she replied with pride." My uncle."   

A small smile crept on the dwarf's aged visage." Of course he did."    

Bowen snorted." Bonebreaker..." he growled. He pointed his bloodied paw into the forest they just came from. As if summoned, the pathway opened as something terrible pushed through. A large creature, easily the size of a ogre except more monstrous. It was bulging as well, it's massive gut was pulsing and bulging like a overfilled bag. It reminded Varwynia of the creature that destroyed her home a month ago. She gripped the haft of her spear tightly, it's rune flaring as the spear felt her intent.    

Dainson stepped between a Elite Exile spearman and Thorgal." Stay behind me, use that spear. After we survive this, you tell me everything. Agreed?"   

The Varangia nodded." Agreed."    

The Bonebreaker roared as it bull charged straight for the defenders, followed by a pack of lesser undead.    

Dainson turned to the defenders." Let me face the Bonebreaker. The rest of you don't die, or I'll turn your corpses into mulch."   

Sheva gasped." What kind of a speech was that?!" she asked, horrified.    

Varwynia smiled." A Dainson one." 

Four weeks ago.   

Greehold, seat of house Greer.    

Her husband made love to her in every way a man could make love to a woman.   

He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, made her feel like a goddess., loved and worshipped.   

But it didn’t take away the sense of guilt in her heart.  

Halmadir was snoring still as she got out of bed and went to the balcony, the cold wind bringing memories as the hairs on her arms rose.   

She thought of the plains where she was raised, the feel of the cold wind on her face as she rode her horse in the solitude.   

The moon illuminated the two statues of her ancestor and the dwarf king, still standing side by side after so many centuries.   

“Keep my son safe.” the orc’s deep voice echoed as he placed his hand on his son’ shoulder. ”Swear on your honour.”  

“I swear on my honour.” She had replied with a hand on her chest.” And Ran as my witness.”   

And now her own words had damned her.   

“Threngar, son of Gorvar the Red!” the valet announced to the court a few days prior.   

The orcling entered the throne room with two Greer guards by his side. He had his chin raised, chest forward and stood straight as he was brought before the Lady of Greehold. But Varwynia also saw the small hint of the little boy he was in his eyes. He tried so hard to show he had no fear.   

Varwynia stood left to her sister with Lady Amelie to her right. Varwynia was not a fan of etiquette but even she saw the subtle undertow. Those who stood on the right hand of a ruler were deemed more important and reliable than those on the left. Still respected but seen more as a guest, a nuisance that needed to be placated. Before she rode out to face Gorvar’s red Horde, she was always on the right-hand side when dignitaries came.     

“Lady Greer.” the orcling bowed his head.  

“Orc.” Vanera replied with steel in her voice.” My sister informed me your father spared her life on the account that he wants peace. Is that true?”   

“Yes.” Threngar replied.  

“She also says you came with your women and children. A whole migration. I am inclined to believe her.”  

“Good, for it is the truth.”   

“And Captain Amelie told me a group of orcs attacked your caravan on the way here.”   

“Yes.” His eyes furrowed. Varwynia gritted her teeth, he was being entrapped.   

Vanera folded her hands and leant forward.” If your father desires peace, then why do your people keep attacking mine and now even you? Is this the fabled word of the great Gorvar the Red?”   

The court was silent save for Thorgal who scribbled in the journals as was his duty as scribe, the sound of quil dancing over parchment stopped momentarily as he dipped the quill in the ink.   

Threngar took a moment to reply.” Those orcs are not my people. They still follow Balur, the father of lies. We have quarrel with them just as much as you do.”  

Several of the more religious members of the court vowed an oath to a myriad of gods. Varwynia saw Gregor mutter a prayer to Dana, mother of the Nomads, her people.   

“Then who does your father worship then?” Vanera asked, a grin on her face.” Some other evil deity? One of ours?”  

“The Red Bird.” Threngar replied.” She guided us away from the Eastern Marches, away from the path of Balur.”   

Vanera turned to her brother.” Scribe Thorgal, have you ever heard of this...Red Bird?”  

The scribe paused his scribbling.” Only once, Lady Greer. The bird is a lesser god that hailed from the Darmor lands before the Darmor Pacification. I can take out my codex if-”  

Vanera waved her hand in dismissal.” Keep writing.” She turned back to Threngar.” So your Horde worships this...Red Bird then. Why? Does Balur no longer slake your thirst for blood?”   

He stood up right. “Not all orcs are killers just as all humans are good, law-abiding god-fearing people. The Red Bird showed us another way. A better way. She teaches us peace.”  

One of the local lords bust forward.” BY KILLING MY SMALLFOLK?!”  

The court erupted in murmurs and shouts.   

“SILENCE!” Vanera raised her voice above the ruckus. Varwynia slammed the butt of her spear on the floor which carried the Lady of Greehold’s voice. The court fell silent.   

“Lord Fren has a point. His villages were the ones your horde burned when you left the mountains and I have several messages from Karag Bolg that say you attacked their holds.”  

Threngar’s face blushed with restrained anger.” We only defend ourselves. We were attacked by your villages and the dwarven clans, we had no choice!”  

“You could’ve stayed in the Eastern Marches.” Vanera countered.  

“No we could not. Balur has hatched an evil there that kills all, even orc and ogres. We had to flee.” Threngar took a moment to breathe.” All we want is to follow the Red Bird and leave Darkshine in peace.”  

Vanera placed her fingers on her chin in a thoughtful pose. A flicker of hope came to Varwynia.   

“What are your father’s terms?” She asked.  

“We seek passage West, the Red Bird tells us to set sail beyond the Gilded Sea. All we want is to pass through Greer lands, through the Pass of Kings. We will not attack your people unless provoked. We have our own food and supplies.”  

“And what do we get in return?” Vanera asked.   

Varwynia raised her brow at this, what was she on about.   

Threngar looked surprised.” In return, Lady Greer?”  

“It’s called a trade, orc.” some of the court chuckled.” What do you offer in return for us allowing you to pass our lands?”  

He smiled and laughed at himself. ”Of course, my apologies. Peace, but we also have plenty of furs and metal ores. We can share knowledge on the Balurspawn and how you can combat them, including the evil that is coming. We need not be friends, but we can part in peace.”  

His eyes fell on Varwynia who could not help but briefly smile. He did really good.   

Tha’s why the blow fell even harder on her.   

Vanera rose as the steel in her voice became more ignited.” I heard enough. Your ploy of sending a child to negotiate has backfired, orc. We will not fall to paltry sentiments such as those. Captain Amelie and my bannermen have rallied to drive your people back into the hells where you belong.” She waved her hand to the guards who took the shocked boy by the elbows.   

The boy came out now, confused. He feebly tried to wriggle loose. A hand fell on Varwynia’s arm before she could even think to move forward. She turned to see Halmadir shake his head. She turned to Gregor who shared his sentiments.   

“You can’t do this! I’m an emissary! A diplomat!” She heard him cry.   

Lady Vanera Greer replied coldly. “No. You’re an orc. And you will die like one. Take him away!”  

The guard dragged the boy away as he screamed.” YOU HAVE NO HONOUR! NO HONOUR!”  

Lady Vanera ignored the cries and turned to Amelie.” Lady Delthanis, we will rally our forces at Kings pass and slaughter the godless greenskins to the last man.”   

“Forgive me, Lady Greer but would it not be better to use the orcling as a hostage?” Amelie asked.  

“No. As far as they know the trade went alright. Seeing his son’s head on a pike would dishearten him, make him stupider and easier to break. We’ll crush this Red Horde once and for all.”  

Oberon’s Ward agreed to the logic in that and went to discuss wth her Paladins. .   

“My lady...” Varwynia began.   

“No, sister.” Vanera cut her off.” I said I’d listen to what he had to say. I did.”  

“I swore to his father I’d bring him back home.” Varwynia pleaded.” He is just a boy.”  

“He is an orc, sister. Swearing to an orc is swearing an oath to a swine. They do not understand the concept.”  

“He send his son because he believed we would -”  

“ENOUGH! Were you not my blood I'd have you chained.” Vanera’ voice strained.  

Before either sibling could say anything, the elven druid stepped in between.” Clearly we are all stressed...how about we all rest and deal with all this on the morrow?”  

“A sensible idea.” Thorgal agreed. “Clear heads make clear actions.”  

“Shut up, Thorgal...” Vanera scolded.” But fair enough. Tomorow.”  

Halmadir smiled.” Good, see you on the morrow my good-sister.”   

“Don't push it.” Vanera warned.  

So it was that the preparations for war once again were made. Captain Amelie and her paladins were to form the vanguard for the incoming attack, replacing the pikemen lost at the battle at the hamlet a few days prior. The dwarven reinforcements from Karag Bolg were expected in a few days along with uncle Hadgar and more Nomad kin were arriving every day. Greehold and its surrounding lands became populated with all manners of people.  

Varwynia tried to calm herself, it was only a orc after all. For a few hours it was as before.   

Halmadir wooing her, Thorgal boring her with his latest books.   

The men saluted her as they passed, grateful to have their lady back.   

It did not help the guilt in her heart though. He was just a boy. A orc yes, but still a boy.  

He looked so glad to see Greehold, the idea to explore it all. Just be a child. To explore.  

An idea came to her mind.   

Without waking her husband, she dressed in her leathers and slowly closed the door behind her.  

The Varangia moved through the corridors with certainty in her step to the guest quarters.   

She pushed the door open to one of the rooms and found her target.   

Gregor was snoring deeply as he held a naked servant girl in his arms, both asleep as the room reeked of sex. With a annoyed grunt she kicked her brother’s foot which made the man jump up.  

“Get up, we’re going to engineer a jail break.”