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Chapter 18 - A Fatal Reunion

26th Day of Nova

128 I.E.

As night set in, a camp was set up and people began to eat what little food they had brought with them, if they were able to keep it down. Because everyone feared the enemy finding them, no one was permitted to put up a cooking fire. Instead, dry rations were passed out to those who didn't have any food with them. Afterwards, patrols were set up around the perimeter to keep an eye out for the enemy.

Bart growled as he walked. He was one of the lucky few to be assigned to border patrol, and while it got him away from all the sniveling, whining weaklings in camp, it was boring and it left him alone to his thoughts.

This is pointless. If the enemy finds us, it won't matter what we're doing or how far in advance we know they're coming. We're out matched. I'd rather be resting for the marching tomorrow or be back in camp, having a drink with a fine looking lass.

The large camp that had been hastily constructed was silent save for the few scattered sounds of voices talking in the dark. Beyond the camp lay darkness through which not even Bart's vision could penetrate. Even after all this time, something about Evergloom unnerved him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he had an inkling that it had something to do with the ever present feeling of being watched by something within the woods.

With a yawn, Bart began to wonder if anyone would notice if he left his duties to catch some shut eye. Certainly Hilfa was around again, and it was possible she would find him, but knowing how cushy the higher ups had it, she was likely back in camp, either sleeping or talking with the other officers.

There was no risk of any other soldiers finding him either, as long as he found a good place to nap. The patrols weren't tight enough because most of the soldiers were resting and they didn't have the manpower to spare for more. He knew if any Legion troops got near him, he'd wake up, so he wasn't worried about that. As he was looking around for a little clearing to lay down in, he heard the rustle of some bushes nearby.

"Ugh, it stinks in there!" a familiar voice whined. "Guess I wasn't the only one to think to go there..."

Bart knew the voice. It'd been years since he'd last heard it, but not even time could dull his senses. He'd heard it so many times growing up.

After ten years, everyone starts showing up again. Perhaps I should consider that my lucky number. Grinning, Bart stepped in behind Garen. The dwarf didn't see him coming and he bumped into Bart.

"Ah! Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," the dwarf said.

"It's okay, dear brother," Bart said and snarled. Garen froze as the ursar spoke, and even in the dark Bart could see the color drain from his face. "It's been quite some time since I last saw you." He looked the dwarf over. He'd gotten stringy since he last saw him, and no longer possessed the strong physique he once had. He noted with some satisfaction that he now had an eye patch where his missing eye was.

Guess they couldn't fix the eye.

"B-b-bartholomew!" Garen gasped, his body held in place by the ursar's presence.

"By the Pantheon you've gotten skinny," Bart mocked. "Did you fall on hard times and run out of food once I left? Or did you run out of people to smack around? Either way you look pathetic." Fear permeated the air and Bart breathed it in, enjoying the feeling that his prey was projecting at him.

"I th-thought you were supposed to s-stay away from us!" Garen stammered as he backed away. Bart laughed at the dwarf's choice of words. What did the law matter now? There was no one left to enforce it. They were all fleeing an enemy. There was no law in the wilds as far as Bart was concerned.

"Do you think that matters right now? We're being chased by a foreign army and our country has fallen. There's no longer any law binding me." Bart brought his crossbow to bear. "I still haven't paid you back for all those years I let you torment me."

He pulled the trigger and the arrow struck Garen in the head before he could scream for help. Bart grinned, then laughed. His body tingled and felt warm as he saw the dwarf's body lying in the dirt with a terrified expression frozen on his face. He grabbed the corpse with his free hand and took it off into the forest to hide it from anyone who might wander by. He threw the body to the ground, causing a cloud of dirt to plume up into the air.

He stared at the body, and thought how pathetic Garen was now. Now that he was gone for good, the ursar wondered what it was that had terrified him so much in the past. Why had he allowed such a thing to torment him as a cub? Why hadn't he retaliated? He should have fought back. Resolving to never be that weak again, he kicked the body further along to hide it deeper in the woods. Bart then pushed aside some bushes and kicked the body until it was concealed. There was no feeling of remorse within his soul, only joy. Bart had sworn that he would get revenge, and he had done it.

His only regret would be that he hadn't done anything sooner.

The ursar then returned to his patrol route, sated for the time being. He was ecstatic, and felt better than ever. A portion of the weight that was stuck on his shoulders had vanished altogether. He occasionally scanned the camp as he walked, looking for the other two members of his so-called family. If Garen was here, then no doubt Remi and Neriti were close by.

After close to an hour of walking, when he'd made a full lap around the camp, he smiled knowingly to himself when he heard more voices up ahead. Fortune seemed to be favoring him that day, as he spotted a haggard couple of dwarves rummaging about the bushes near where he had killed Garen. Perhaps Olaraa falling wasn't such a bad thing. He could leave the country behind and bury his past in Legion controlled territory. Bart holstered his crossbow and drew his knife as silently as possible. It was time Remi and Neriti were reunited with their son.

"Where is he?" Neriti asked, calling out Garen's name as she and her husband looked for the dwarf. "I know he went this way. He couldn't have gone far."

"I don't know everything, woman!" Remi snapped back. "You're always nattering about something. Would you like me to constantly be asking you questions?"

The voices continued to bicker back and forth as Bart snuck up on them. Bart remained at a distance, hugging the edge of the woods and watching carefully as they looked about for their son. His thoughts turned to how he'd deal with them. If he slaughtered Remi first, Neriti would likely scream, alerting the other guards. What about if he eliminated her first? What would Remi's reaction be?

Bart wasn't about to have any second thoughts regarding what he felt he had to do. The Stoutmantles were given plenty of time to correct their mistakes, and they never took the opportunity to do so. The world would be better off without them around. Bart didn't imagine they would have any adoptive children to siphon stipends off of anymore, but he couldn't take the risk that someone else would be treated the way he had been. No, that had nothing to do with it. This wasn't about protecting someone, this was about revenge.

His mind began to make a list of all the things that he'd suffered at their hands. Even as a cub he'd faced their bigotry, making him hate himself and leaving him to cry in his cramped little closet of a room. Old wounds that were healed long ago began to itch, reminding him of every time that Remi struck him or lashed at him with his belt. Neriti would always be there, lurking in the background, never so much as protesting. She would watch with a cold detachment, almost bordering on a morbid sense of pleasure as the ursar's blood was spilled on the floor time and time again.

Bart bit at his lower lip, breaking the skin between his teeth. It wasn't out of worry, but anticipation. He was trying to keep his movements slow and even. When he considered how large he was in comparison to a dwarf, it was any wonder how he hoped to be able to sneak up on anyone. Fortunately, he was aided by the darkness and years of training as a scout.

A tingling sensation crawled along Bart's skin, as if he'd been shocked by a mage's spell. His heart fluttered in his chest. Perfection was key. One slip up, and it would be all over. They were too far apart to take out at once, so he had to hope that his assumptions about Remi's pride would play out in his favor. He crept slowly towards them to ensure he made no sound, and snuck up to Neriti. One misstep, one glance in his direction would spoil his plans and have his fellow soldiers falling down on him like the wrath of the gods. Neither dwarf had seen him yet, and his lips curled back into a sneer. In one swift motion, he placed a paw over the woman's mouth and pressed the blade firmly against her neck.

"Hello, father," Bart called out, loud enough for the dwarf to hear, but quiet enough to keep the sound from traveling to the camp.

Remi looked up just in time to see Bart slice Neriti's throat open. The ursar didn't normally like to kill women, but she was no woman, just a coward. She never called for help once until it was her life on the line. He thought with a morbid sense of curiosity that it felt like he was cutting through a stringy piece of meat. The knife moved swiftly along her skin, leaving a deep trail of dark red as her blood dripped to the ground. It wasn't the first time he'd sliced into someone's flesh, but this time it seemed to hold meaning. This wasn't part of a mission or from an order he was given. He was doing it for himself. Bart felt Neriti go limp as her body went cold from shock.

"Neriti!" Remi cried out. "You son of a bitch!" He ran for Bart as rage burned in his eyes.

"Hah, that's the spirit!" Bart's arms tensed and flexed as he tossed the body aside and sheathed his dagger. "I'll even fight fair, which is more of a chance than you ever gave me!"

The ursar ran forward to intercept the dwarf mid-charge, and they traded blow for blow. When Bart would strike, Remi would hit back with just as much ferocity. Bart swept at Remi's legs, trying to trip him, but the dwarf would just jump or dodge the attempt and try to hit Bart in the face.

Not wanting to further jeopardize someone finding him, Bart decided that it was time to end it. After a moment more of fighting, he feinted and let the dwarf in close, purposefully letting Remi land a hit so that he would not notice the flash of steel as his dagger found its home in his foster father's flesh, just under the arm.

Remi gasped and sputtered, blood dribbling out his mouth. "You said... you'd fight fair..."

"I lied." Bart jammed the dagger in further and watched as the dwarf's life faded from his eyes. "Besides, let's face facts here, Remi: You never would have beaten me. You should be proud. You made me everything that I am today." Bart gave the knife a twist before pulling the dagger back out. "This all happened because of you."

The dwarf's eyes closed, and Bart had to suppress his laughter. "I told you that I'd win." Bart quickly dragged the bodies away and concealed them in the same spot that he'd stashed Garen's body. After he'd done that, he returned to his route. The further from the scene that he walked, the more the troubles of the past seemed to fall away behind a thick fog. He was finally free, and with the republic's fall, it was only a matter of time before either his sentence was over or he simply up and left amidst the chaos.

He grabbed his skin of water that hung from a strap around his torso and did his best to wash his paws off. He doubled checked to make sure that there was no other bodily fluids on his clothes, then worked to wash off his dagger and sheath. He had to get cleaned up before the next guard passed by.

There was a spot of blood on the chest of his shirt. He had no way of cleaning the stain out. With a snap of his wrist and the use of his claws, he tore it away from his body and shredded it. He crumpled the mess in his paws and hurled it into the woods.

Footsteps approached from the camp and Bart snapped to attention. He didn't feel any fear, but he worried that someone might question why his uniform was gone. As the dwarf came into view with an alchemical globe in hand, Bart wracked his brain for an explanation. He only hoped he could come up with something on the spot.

Just act natural, he told himself, his heart racing in his chest. It was easier said than done, though, and he shifted his weight so that he was favoring his left leg. The dwarf finally got close enough and Bart recognized him as being one of the women from Hilfa's unit. Realizing this, the ursar began to nervously chew on the inside of his cheek, releasing a stream of blood into his mouth.

"What's going on?" She asked, panting as she came to a stop. "I heard shouting. Where's your uniform?"

Bart didn't have time to think of a response, and his mouth started flapping as his brain worked of its own accord. "That was me."

"You?" the dwarfwoman asked, cocking her head slightly to the right and raising an eyebrow. "Who were you shouting at."

"Damn tree snagged my shirt," Bart said, his eyes finding a few tattered shreds of the garment hanging from a branch. He was surprised he saw it, and that his mind was aware of it on its own.

"And where's the rest of it?"

"I threw the damn thing in the forest," Bart said, sounding proud of himself.

The dwarfwoman shook her head and sighed. "The General warned us about you. Alright, cough it up, where's the flask? I'm surprised anyone would be drinking in this situation but she was sure you'd be liable to do it at some point."

Flask? Bart thought, trying to figure out what she meant. He thought a moment, and remembered that Hilfa had taken his beer flask away after the run in with the Hands of Laren. She thinks I'd be drunk after that? Though the thought hurt, he realized quickly that he could play it to his advantage.

"Oh yeah! My flask is... where did it go?" he asked, trying to act disoriented. He looked around the ground and forced himself to stumble a bit to solidify the act.

The dwarfwoman gave an exasperated sigh and started to pat the ursar down. Bart stopped moving and looked down at her with a lecherous grin. He wasn't sure how much of that was an act though.

"You're pretty good with your hands, lass," he said with a smirk.

"Shut up!" the dwarfwoman snapped. "You don't have anything on you, but you seem drunker than a pauper at a festival." She frowned, unsure of what to make of the situation. "Whatever, just get back to your patrol, and get a new uniform when you get back to camp."

"Yes ma'am!" Bart said, giving as sloppy a salute as he could manage. The dwarfwoman sighed and stomped off to continue her duties, leaving the ursar all on his own.

After their exchange, Bart returned to his patrol as if nothing happened. He finally felt he had gotten his revenge. The Stoutmantles were wiped from the earth, and no longer would he be tormented by their existence.

Bartholomew only managed to get a few hours of shut-eye after another soldier relieved him from his duty. He was certain that the dwarf would never find the bodies on his way through his route, but even still he slept a little less easy thinking on it. He couldn't wait for them to start moving in the morning so that they could get as far away as possible from where he'd done the deed.

As soon as the sun crested the horizon, everything was packed up and people began to leave for Sanctuary. Bart was called over to a small huddle outside of camp, where several soldiers were speaking in hushed whispers.

"I didn't see anything," one said.

"Then explain the blood," another countered.

The first dwarf shrugged, his armor clinking together as he moved. "Maybe someone killed an animal?"

"Then where's the body?" another asked.

Several individuals shrugged. "Maybe it was one of the creatures living in the Evergloom?"

The dwarves seemed to look warily at the cursed forest, but Hilfa was quick to snap their attention to the matter at hand. "There's no such thing as werewolves," she said, "Now can we get back to really discussing what's going on here?"

Bart kept quiet, merely watching the group of dwarves bicker to each other about where the blood could have come from. In the daylight, it was far easier to see that he'd made a large mess of things. It was fortunate that he hadn't gotten any of the Stoutmantles' blood on his body.

When Hilfa realized he was standing there, she turned to him and said, "Did you see anything, Private?"

Bart shrugged. "All was quiet last night."

"Oh? There were reports of shouting during the night. One of the civilians thought they heard a scuffle and notified us about it. Would you happen to know anything about it? You were on patrol around the time."

Bart gave another shrug of his shoulders. "I don't remember hearing anything when I passed by the woods."

"Is that so?" Hilfa asked. "One of my soldiers also said she heard you yelling at a tree, of all things." She dismissed the other troops and asked, "How drunk were you?"

"Just a little bit," Bart replied, scratching his exposed belly.

"You're a real bastard, you know that?" Hilfa hissed. She jabbed him in the stomach and got close to him, and he leaned away from her almost completely on reflex. "We lost the capital and who knows how many of the Senate, and all you give a shit about is getting drunk, at a time like this?"

"Did you honestly expect anything different?" Bart shot back, fixing a stare and matching the intensity of her gaze.

"Honestly? Yes, I did! You'd think after Albrand you'd have learned a thing or two. I even heard from a few people that you'd calmed down a bit and weren't always running around with booze in your veins. I could hardly believe them myself but I guess they were wrong. You're still the same pig I left behind."

"I was willing to give you a second chance to clean yourself up," Hilfa continued, her voice lowering to nothing more than a series of harsh whispers. "But I guess you didn't care to learn your lesson."

Bart winced when he heard her words. Though the whole thing was a ruse, knowing that she bought it so easily and was this angry made him feel even worse. At least she wasn't still questioning him about the altercation he'd had last night.

"General, we need to get moving!" a soldier called out.

"Fine," Hilfa dismissed the dwarf with a wave of her hand. "We'll continue this later, Private." The last bit was said with a sneer, and then she was off to gather the rest of the convoy to get moving again.

The troops continued their days-long march north out of Olaraan territory and across the southern Kelial Plains. It was around that time when a runner from the defense force finally caught up to the escort to inform them of the situation. He found the nearest officer, someone near where Bart was marching, and began to relay a message from the front lines. It didn't take a lot of effort for Bart to catch what was being said as he kept moving forward.

"The Peacekeepers have managed to hold the Shadow Legion back for now, but we are being forced to fall back and retreat to avoid any more losses." The runner was a young ursar boy, wearing the Order of Peacekeeper's purple and gold colors. How he had managed to catch up to the convoy was beyond Bart's ability to reason, though with the way he was panting, he likely had come running at top speed the whole way. "They have already pulled out of Olaraa, but not before they overloaded the Waygate and destroying a chunk of the enemy's forces along with it."

Bart had heard of the Waygate before. He'd even used it once, back in the day. It was a large, ancient Sylvan teleportation ring that connected Olaraa to a similar ring in Sanctuary, allowing the dwarves to move forces halfway across the continent in seconds. Though much of the magic of the gate was lost on him, he knew enough about it to know that they wouldn't have been able to send their forces through it in their retreat. It couldn't remain powered up for more than a couple minutes before it overloaded.

That was something that the dwarves never would have done previously. Bart's lip curled up, revealing the tips of his pointed teeth, as he thought about their reverence of Sylvan magics. They were irreplaceable, as the technology was lost ages ago.

Hilfa thanked him for the information and asked, "What of the defense forces? Where are they headed now?"

"They will be headed straight for Sanctuary once they evade the enemy."

Bart's mouth tasted sour, and he was having a hard time swallowing when he heard that, realizing the implications of their inevitable rendezvous with the rest of the military. If Arion had survived Olaraa, then he'd be headed to Sanctuary along with the defense force. Thinking back to the murders he committed, Bart was suddenly afraid for the first time in a long time.

What if Arion reads my mind and finds out?