....
The suggestion to visit Flokki and check on the temple hung in the air, unspoken but heavy. Solas and Valdyr's 6 exchanged glances, unvoiced questions and worries mirrored in each other's eyes. Kael kept his head down, silent and brooding, while Zayn and Chauncey exchanged pensive, almost hesitant looks. Mira's hands twisted nervously at her sides; every step toward the temple was a silent prayer, a hope that their master had survived the chaos.
Their boots struck against the stone path, heavy and echoing, despite the fatigue and weight they carried. The broken gates loomed before them, splintered and warped, a testament to the recent violence. The courtyard beyond was a scene of disarray—fallen banners, shattered stone, and the faint scent of smoke and ash lingering in the cold air. Renn's heart sank at the sight, and he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. Erik's eyes were distant, lost in thought, tracing the damage with a grim, calculating stare.
Finally, they reached the office. The doors were slightly ajar, papers scattered along the floor. The tension in the group tightened. Their eyes went wide in unison.
From behind the desk, Flokki looked up. His eye, sharp and assessing, softened as they scanned the group. First, he took in Valdyr's 6, the warriors who had fought beside Solas. Then his gaze shifted to Jasmijn, Chauncey, Zayn, and Charolette, who lingered a few paces behind.
Flokki's niece, unable to hold herself back, rushed forward. She threw herself at Solas, hugging his waist, tears streaking down her cheeks. Relief and joy painted her expression. Flokki's lips pressed into a thin line, but the corners of his eyes softened, threatened tears glinting there.
He rose abruptly, his posture commanding yet tender. Every movement was careful, precise, but for the first time, his usual rigid composure seemed to give way. He walked toward Solas, the expected formal handshake or nod of approval replaced by something far more visceral: Flokki hugged him with a force that carried years of unspoken worry, of gratitude, of relief.
One by one, Valdyr's 6 joined, their own emotions breaking through stoic training. They had never seen their master display such unguarded warmth, and despite the weight of the world, they didn't complain.
Zayn's lips curled in a small, genuine smile at the display, before Charolette nudged him gently, her own relief mirrored in her eyes.
"I am proud. Of all of you,"
Flokki's voice cut through the quiet, strong and commanding, yet tinged with emotion.
He straightened, his gaze sweeping over the entire group. "Defenders of Valdyr—you have truly shown the aspects of a true warrior."
His eyes shifted, focusing intently on the four foreigners. Zayn's face straightened under the weight of that gaze.
"You four,"
Flokki said deliberately. Chauncey's back straightened instantly. Charolette kept her head down, ashamed yet attentive. They had all disobeyed orders—but Flokki's words were not laced with scorn.
"I have nothing more to teach you," he continued, and Chauncey's eyes widened, unsure if this was punishment or something else entirely.
"I can only show you the base of what it means to have a true warrior's heart. The rest… you must learn out there."
The four exchanged subtle glances, a mixture of awe, understanding, and the weight of responsibility settling upon them.
Flokki turned directly to Chauncey.
"Your aura… it seems stronger. Congratulations on unlocking your codex." Pride and relief softened Chauncey's features; a small smile crept across his face.
Then to Jasmijn. "You show qualities of a great leader. I am certain you will become something extraordinary in the future." A faint blush colored her cheeks as the weight of his words sank in.
Flokki's gaze softened as it shifted toward Charolette, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.
"Charolette… you carry the weight of many hearts on your shoulders. Your loyalty and courage are rare, but know this—there are trials ahead that will test the very limits of your resolve. The peace you helped secure today will demand sacrifices you cannot yet imagine. Remember, the heart of a protector beats strongest when the world fears to stand."
Charolette's head bowed slightly, the weight of his words sinking into her very bones, a mix of pride and foreboding stirring within her.
Then Flokki's eye settled on Zayn, piercing and unwavering.
"And you, Zayn… your path has only just begun. Today, you've glimpsed what it means to wield strength with both skill and conscience. But power without restraint—or without understanding the cost it exacts—will destroy not only your enemies but yourself. To become a true warrior, you must learn to balance the fury in your heart with the clarity of your mind. The battles you face now are nothing compared to the ones that will demand the essence of your soul."
Zayn straightened, his eyes sharpening as he took in Flokki's words. The weight of them settled, both a challenge and a promise. He felt the echo of his own potential, tempered by the reminder that mastery was far from over.
.....
Morning filtered through the high windows of the temple, golden and soft, brushing against polished stone floors and the carved wooden beams above. The temple was alive with motion, yet a quiet gravity held over the crowd. Villagers in muted, respectful garb moved carefully between Valdyr's soldiers, exchanging solemn nods and whispers. The scent of incense mingled with the morning air, carrying hints of pine and smoked hearths from the village below.
"I had been up all night," he began, his gaze sweeping over the gathered faces, "trying to find the words. Words that could honor the lives taken, and somehow soothe the grief that hangs heavy in all our hearts. I feared none existed… until I realized that words are not enough for warriors such as these. Their deeds speak louder than any sentence I could craft."
His gaze softened as they lingered on the empty spaces where fallen soldiers would have stood. "I took their deaths harder than I ever thought possible. Not because I feared loss, but because I knew what they had given us—their loyalty, their courage, their lives. And Sigurd… Sigurd was like a brother to me. A warrior who struck true, without hesitation, without falter. He carried the heart of Valdyr into every battle, and his presence will never fade from this land."
Valdyr's 6, lined in formal attire, stood with precise posture. Zayn and Chauncey were beside Jasmijn and Charolette, their eyes reflecting the weight of Flokki's words. Chauncey's hand rose subtly to wipe away a tear, his jaw tight as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. Zayn's hand landed lightly on Chauncey's shoulder, steady, grounding.
Many others in the hall—a mixture of villagers, soldiers, and visiting Drenmarch troops—let silent tears fall. The air trembled with mourning and respect, a shared grief that transcended rank or station. Even Jasmijn's grandfather stood, eyes narrowed in reflection, the lines of age softening as he considered the cost of war and the courage of those lost.
He inhaled deeply, the weight of memory pressing into his chest.
"And yet he was not alone. Garren, the steadfast; Terra, whose arrows never missed; Torben, whose laugh could lift the heaviest hearts even amidst carnage; Aedric, whose blade was unerring. They all—every one of them—faced the end as true warriors. They fought not for glory, but for the lives of those they swore to protect. They fought for Valdyr. And they fell with honor, unbroken to the last breath."
Flokki's gaze lifted, the weight in his eyes shifting ever so slightly toward light.
"But let us not dwell solely in grief. What has transpired these past days… the fires, the blood, the struggle—we stand here. We breathe. We endure. That in itself is a testament to Valdyr's resilience. We are not defined by our losses, but by what we rebuild from them. From the ashes of what was, we will forge something stronger, better, wiser. Valdyr will rise—not as it was, but as it was always meant to be."
The hall was quiet now, save for the soft sniffling of those who could not hold back their tears. Flokki's voice softened, almost a whisper, yet it carried conviction like a sword through the silence.
"Honor their memory by living, by rebuilding, by holding fast to what makes us Valdyr. And may we never forget that even in the darkest night, the heart of a warrior shines eternal."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle, then stepped back, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, proud smile. The guests remained in silence for a moment longer before the low, reverent claps of acknowledgment spread through the hall, mingled with the quiet sobs of those who had lost brothers, sisters, friends.
When Flokki's speech ended, the hall exhaled. A quiet murmur of agreement and homage filled the space as servers moved forward, pouring drinks into finely carved goblets. The feast followed: roasted meats, spiced vegetables, fresh bread, and fruit, all arranged with care and purpose. The guests dispersed, forming clusters to converse, laugh softly, and remember together.
The four of them—Zayn, Chauncey, Jasmijn, and Charolette—found a table together. The food was hearty, but few spoke much at first, the weight of the morning lingering in their eyes. Finally, Jasmijn leaned forward, her hands clasped lightly on the table, and began to outline the plans.
"We leave for the capital of Drenmarch tomorrow," she said, her voice low but confident.
"Grandfather wants to discuss the next moves in the war against Plugand. The council will need our presence."
The four exchanged glances, silent acknowledgment passing between them. The journey had not ended; the sea would call them once more, battles would continue, and their roles in this war were far from finished.
Chauncey stared at his cup, swirling the drink thoughtfully. Zayn's gaze lingered on Jasmijn, then to the distant horizon beyond the temple windows, a quiet determination settling over him. Charolette's fingers tightened on her napkin, a mix of worry and resolve mirrored in her expression.
Outside, the morning sun rose higher, gilding the temple's spires and casting long shadows across the courtyard. The day was calm, almost peaceful—but beneath that serenity lay the truth they all knew: the war was far from over, and the tides of destiny were only beginning to rise.