There was a fire, warmth he'd not felt in some time.
There was a hole within the hut, enough for smoke to pass through, and a few birds roasted within it over sticks.
Allsion sat on one side of the fire, Nathan across from her, and he himself was atop the straw mattress, his strength never wavering. One touch of his throat to be sure, and no marks nor scratches. Some scars never left though, and his hand trembled at the thought of those hissing fangs.
Nathan greeted him first, a warm smile. "I told you I wouldn't fail you my lo-, er, sir."
He was every bit the bone thin lad he remembered.
Upon sitting up, not a hint of exhaustion, he held out his hand, and Nathan sat up straight.
"I'm in your debt, brother."
Nathan's eyes were wide, and there was a slight blush on his cheeks. "Aye, well, of course, brother. Though I couldn't have d-."
"Alright, alright," Allison sighed, "sorry to interrupt such a romantic moment, but it's not just him you should be thanking. Dare I say him at all."
There was chatter outside, getting closer, from Arthur and Dany.
"Your squire gave us his word, your word, my lord," Allison said, giving a snappy salute, "that you'd repay us for your rescue with any demand of our request."
He reached for his coin pouch, but Allison poke his hand with her bow.
She waved a finger. "Your golds no good to us."
"Gold's always good," he snarled as Arthur and Dany entered the hut, "and I'm wagering you'd like a lifetime supply of arrows, or anything else you might need."
She tapped his head with her bow. "I want your body. Not in a Fat Carl bedding anything with a pulse type of way, but your muscles."
Arthur examined him, a young man with messy black hair. "Fighting's intensified on the front. With trails from the Graves free, by the slaying of Razelael, more forces have gathered on the battlefield than a any point within the last five hundred years."
Allison nodded. "House Pyr's been on the brink as is, but they don't stand a chance now."
"Fuck's it mean to you?"
She frowned. "That's none of your concern. As of now, you'll show some gratitude, uphold your word as a lord of war, or-."
"Or what?" He growled, towering over her.
Hand on her dagger, she whipped it from behind her. It was slower than he expected, but he let her hold it against his throat nonetheless.
"I'll slit you open here," she hissed, the others looking at her as if she'd gone mad, "again, and again, and however many times you reawaken in this God forsaken hellhole."
Fist tightened, he stared her down for a bit longe, then smiled.
"Very good."
He sat back on the bed, rubbing his head, thirsty for an ale, and Allison glared at him before storming out.
Arthur sighed, sitting beside him and Dany just sat by the fire with Nathan, not so much as a breath out of her.
"She's a bit of a hothead," Arthur said, opening up a flask, "especially when it comes to the safety of others."
"So call her a merry fucking saint," he said, taking the flask and enjoying a few sips.
Arthur seemed concerned at first, probably about the fact he'd taken the flask without asking, but just smiled.
"You're a lot like her."
"The fuck I am!" He said, handing the flask back. "Say that again, and I'll show you what happened to The Brander."
"The who?"
"The little fuckwit who had this village believing he was a gods fearing discerning man who didn't feed newborns to blood starving demons!"
Arthur took a sip. "I see. Right out of the Roman Church's playbook."
He gave him a puzzled look, and it was already apparent.
Hand on his shoulder, Arthur said, "Like Allison told you, same as we both tell Dany. Anything you want to know about the world we came from, don't be a stranger."
There was something about him which didn't make his face bendable, and after looting a few more sips from his flask, he left the hut to stretch his legs.
Dany stared at him from the hut, her face tan with a slight paleness to it, and her hair was so short she almost appeared as a lad. One look at her and she gasped before slipping back inside, and he wondered what kind of madness the Lords of Gods, or whoever the hell, possessed to ally him with the hooligans.
They saved his life, and there was no arguing it, and though he loved nothing more than a good fight, he was one to honor his word.
For Nathan's sake at least.
"Holy steel and iron," the village smith said, inspecting his new buffed armor and flail. "Should ye' return to Marryvia's doorstep, your weapons'll prosper against many great enemies."
His fingers felt whole again, wrapping his flail's hilt.
"What do ya' know of the war?"
The smith, arms folded, thought for a minute.
"All I remember is its stained this land for thousands of years. Was a time when it covered all the great kingdoms, every corner of this land, one big pile 'a corpses."
"Anything worth a damn out there? Or is it just thick headed nobles clawing for each other's pride."
The smith smiled. "Yer sharper than ya' seem, friend. But I wouldn't be able to tell ya'. Nothin' I know of aside from darkness and blood screams."
Armor donned, flail in hand, shield slung across his back, he paid the smith more than was needed, since Allsion was so generous enough not to charge him for saving his life.
He made his way to the merry crew of hooligans, all atop horses as citizens gathered round them. The weary eyed villagers were concerned, worried about the vampyre's without a means to keep them away.
"William's hands are blessed by the Lord of Life himself," Allison explained for all the villagers to hear. "He and the Lord Brute's squire will keep you safe."
He shook his head, as wherever he went Nathan went. "We had an agreement."
"As do we," Allison snapped, guiding a horse to him, "now get on, and do your best to help someone beside yourself!"
It was a strong steed, but not strong enough to carry him in full armor.
So he divvied it up, much as he hated to take it off after going through so much trouble. His breastplate, shield, and flail went to the three riders, Allsion, Arthur, and Dany. Nathan bid him farewell, swearing to not leave the village until he returned.
"There's more on the battlefield than just men. Many forces there ha-."
A jab from Allison's bow stopped the lad, who cursed under his breath as she turned her attention towards William.
"If we don't return within a month's time, make for the trails yourself, with or without the squire."
William nodded, the boy so clean one could've believed he spent more time in a castle rather than traveling with a soulless party.
In nothing but his plate legs he almost felt naked, and Allison knew it bothered him as she gave him that twisted grin.
"Welcome to Embers Three, my lord!" She gloated, kicking her horse's side.
Embers three.
What a load of shit. Pure dog shit.
He gave his horse a tap, and it carried him off, behind the Ember's Three Hooligans, north along the cliffs.