Chapter 8 – Old Allies, New Tensions

  The morning air was crisp as Viktor and Kaavi trudged along the dirt road; their cloaks drawn tight against the biting wind. The vilge was close now—just a little farther. The road had been eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustling of the trees and the distant call of birds. Even so, neither of them let their guard down.

  Kaavi walked with purposeful strides, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings, while Viktor kept pace beside him, watching and listening just as his grandfather had taught him. He had noticed how Kaavi’s posture had grown more rigid as they neared their destination. He wasn’t just cautious—he was preparing himself for something.

  "Grandpa," Viktor said, breaking the silence. "What kind of man is your colleague?"

  Kaavi didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened slightly before he finally spoke. "A warrior, like me. But unlike me, he never tried to leave that life behind. If he’s still alive, he will help us."

  That answer was enough for now.

  Not long after, the vilge came into view. Unlike the peaceful hamlet they had left behind, this pce had the air of a fortress. Wooden barricades lined the outskirts, and watchtowers stood tall at key vantage points. Armed men patrolled the entrance, their hands resting on their weapons, eyes sharp.

  Viktor's grip on his cloak tightened. "This pce looks... different."

  Kaavi gave a knowing nod. "It's a vilge, but it also serves as a sanctuary for those who live by the sword. Mercenaries, traders, and those who seek refuge from the chaos of the outside world." He paused before adding, "It is not a pce for the weak."

  As they approached, one of the guards stepped forward, eyeing them warily. His gaze lingered on Viktor for a moment before shifting to Kaavi.

  "State your business."

  "We're here to see an old friend," Kaavi replied evenly. "Is Ilyas still here?"

  The guard’s eyebrows lifted slightly. He gnced at one of the other men before nodding. "He’s here. Go straight down the main road. You'll find him at the forge."

  Kaavi nodded in thanks, and they walked past the barricades into the vilge.

  The heart of the vilge was bustling with activity. Traders called out their wares, bcksmiths hammered steel, and mercenaries gathered in groups, speaking in hushed tones. The scent of burning coal and spiced food filled the air.

  Viktor’s sharp eyes took in everything. He noticed the way people looked at them—some curious, others wary. This was not a pce where strangers were easily trusted.

  They found the forge easily enough. A rge structure near the centre of the vilge, its chimney belching bck smoke into the sky. Inside, the rhythmic cng of metal echoed as a broad-shouldered man worked over an anvil, his muscles straining with each swing of the hammer.

  Kaavi stepped forward. "Ilyas."

  The bcksmith froze mid-swing. Slowly, he turned, his sharp gaze nding on Kaavi. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, a slow smirk spread across his face.

  "Kaavi," Ilyas said, his voice deep and rough like gravel. He set down his hammer and wiped his hands on a rag. "I never thought I’d see you again."

  "Neither did I," Kaavi admitted.

  Ilyas’s gaze flicked to Viktor. "And this must be the boy."

  Viktor met his gaze steadily, not flinching under the scrutiny.

  Kaavi nodded. "His name is Viktor. We need your help."

  Ilyas’s smirk faded. He exhaled through his nose, gncing around before jerking his head toward a door in the back. "Come inside. We’ll talk there."

  Inside the forge’s backroom, the air was thick with the scent of oil and metal. Ilyas poured himself a drink before sitting across from them.

  "So," he said, his tone growing more serious. "What kind of trouble have you dragged yourself into this time, old friend?"

  Kaavi leaned forward, his expression hard. "The bandits hunting me in the past—they’ve grown stronger. They’ve taken control of the southern roads, and now they’re looking for me and Viktor."

  Ilyas frowned. "And why now, after all these years?"

  "Because they know who I am," Viktor answered before Kaavi could speak. His voice was steady, despite the weight of his words. "They know that I’m his grandson. And they want him alive."

  Ilyas studied him for a long moment, then let out a slow sigh. "I see. They want his powers."

  Kaavi nodded. "They’ll stop at nothing to get them. That’s why I need your help."

  Ilyas took a sip of his drink, considering. "You know, Kaavi... I don’t get involved in wars anymore. I left that life behind, just like you did."

  Kaavi’s voice was firm. "This isn’t a war. This is survival."

  A tense silence followed.

  Then, Ilyas chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn you, old fox." He set his cup down. "Alright. I’ll help. But if we’re going to stand a chance against them, we need a pn."

  Kaavi allowed himself a small smile. "We already have one."

  Viktor leaned forward, intrigued. He had suspected Kaavi had been thinking several steps ahead, but now he was about to hear it.

  Kaavi’s gaze darkened. "The bandits rely on fear and numbers. If we strike first, take away their ability to track us, we gain the advantage. We need to dismantle their scouts, cut off their communication."

  Ilyas stroked his beard, nodding. "You’re thinking like a warrior again."

  Kaavi’s expression was grim. "I never stopped being one."

  Viktor’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "What do you need me to do?"

  Kaavi met his gaze. "Learn. Watch."

  A flicker of determination burned in Viktor’s chest. He was ready.

  And the battle was just beginning.