The long expedition proved far more arduous than anyone had predicted.
Such a vast mass of combatants just struggled to move as one. Most groups would get lost or trail far behind. And their numbers added to the usual sickness that accompanied all marches. Likewise it made foraging for food a constant concern.
What should have taken a week had approached its second month. The cold approached on forces too exhausted to go on.
Yet when they turned back the mood was victorious.
Divided tribes, no matter how much they had prepared, had fallen quite easily to the horde. A circle of death shielded the plain. Where they had gone they had planted skulls by the hundreds.
Already the scouts had pushed ahead to announce their success. Suppletives were allowed to break up and return to their tribes, if only to alleviate the burden on the rest. For another day they marched to reach the stream that marked the border of kobel territory.
What awaited them took the warriors aback.
Everything from the hill they called a mountain all the way to the stream had been cut and turned to fields. In those fields new hamlets had sprung, hamlets and farms.
For the first time in their life they watched the impossible sight of a windmill: a wheel turning seemingly by itself, in thin air, without any cattle in sight.
And there were so many fires lit everywhere.
There was a bridge built of stone but far downstream, so instead the tributaries had sent wooden barges to help them cross. It was to them like leaving the wilds to a haven of wealth.
Above all the kobels could not believe just how prosperous their tributaries had become. They too had plenty of houses spreading far, cattle, orchards, furnaces. They too wore cloth and the free ones jewelry.
Those with iron collars rode on mounts to survey their workers.
And beyond stood the hill. Stone had given way to brick, small houses to little mansions. The last of the workshops and bloomeries cast off in favor of parks and gardens. They had started building columns along the winding road.
There, as they walked up toward the highest plateau, the tribe gave them a hearty welcome.
They assembled along the road to throw petals at them, entire baskets of them littering the pavement. They were bringing them cups of honey wine to drink on their way up. And music. The kobels had brought many new instruments.
The youth was extatic. Children not born when the warriors had left discovered those veterans and among them the legends, Tunu and Uokror.
On the highest plateau awaited both the shaman and his apprentice.
Lutuk, for the occasion, had come out of his hut. He was waiting, weighed down by a sickness called age, while Etelet stood by his side, still wearing the leather of old times.
The chief, at the head of his warriors, reached them first.
"Mala is dead." The shaman greeted him.
The old kobel's smile froze, then faded. No matter the seconds that passed, he remained there immobile, so much so that the warriors behind him became agitated.
So Tunu walked forth and told them:
"To the tower! We have yet to start the feast!"
He watched them pass, Savae among them, Uokror likewise, he let them pass and only once they were gone he turned back to the two old kobels still facing each other.
The chief's eyes looked extinct.
"Kreil..."
"I'm sorry, Tunu. Could you be their chief today? Just for today."
But it felt like the chief was not even talking to him. He had almost said those words out of habit, while totally absent.
He and the shaman turned away to walk toward the hut.
"Where is Tuorka?"
"At the keep." Etelet answered.
The apprentice's voice sounded indifferent.
What he called the keep was more of a small castle with the old tower its center, replaced with fine brick that now reached six floors in height. Once finished, that structure would be unassailable.
Likewise the wall cutting the plateau in half had been rebuilt with a walkway and parapet as well as a few towers of its own.
Behind, in gardens the cold had withered, the statues had been recast as well, in bronze and gold.
"It's amazing." Tunu admitted. "I'm speechless, truly!"
He stopped before the statue of Etelet. That one, as usual, had the least offerings.
But a fourth had been built for Uokror, further away surrounded by hedges.
"Wait, are those fountains? Fountains?! Etelet, how did you bring water this high?"
"This is peace." The apprentice answered somberly. "All this wealth is peace. If you care for the tribe, you will maintain that peace or see it all vanish."
"Understood."
"No."
And Etelet stopped to scold him.
"No, you don't understand. You will never understand. Tell me, right now, what is it you want most?"
"To become a wyvern, of course!"
"What about Elua."
"What about her?"
The apprentice grunted.
"Leave the peace to me. And when I tell you to do something, do it! Do it without question!"
"Of course! What are you getting at?"
"Go see Elua."
No matter how much the scaled kobel kept pressing his friend, he would not say another word. And Tunu, while frustrated, was too impressed by his accomplishments to raise his voice.
The keep had been rebuilt with wyverns in mind. Everything was gigantic, the ceiling high enough for Uokror to stretch up and still not reach it. Doors likewise were so large that kobels struggled when closing them.
Guest rooms were dwarved in these halls.
If the place was still being built, at least the ground floor looked finished. There the tribe had prepared many tables filled with their best food and alcohol for their warriors. All had already started to eat while dancers entertained them.
At Tunu's sight they invited him in.
But Etelet touched his arm and he remembered. He was meant to find Elua.
And indeed, to his surprise she was not among the females. So he asked around, learned that she was on the first floor, in the vast bedroom where the furniture had to be built on site.
She was busy cleaning the candlesticks.
"What are you doing?!" Tunu exclaimed.
He rushed to her, snatched the cloth away and forced her eyes to meet his.
The scaled kobel was even more stunning than before. After two months of war his body was fierce, an absolute beast that towered above his own. There was not a bit of him left to desire.
She saw him and her heart fluttered, but it only made her shrink.
"Elua, have you lost your mind? We have captives, you don't need to clean anything! Come on, look at me! You are my pearl, my princess! Why would you work?"
"Are you going to leave again?"
She was fighting back tears.
"No, I'm back! I'm here for you, Elua!"
"Right now, you are going to leave. You are going to find Savae! How did you even find me here, who told you to come?!"
She had known all along that such a time would come. But when it did the female had chosen denial, and when denial was not enough she had just, kept going.
But he had grown bored of her. Like all the males before him, he was just bored. He had found a more pleasing one and all she had tried had been in vain. She was just this paltry useless kobel to be cast aside on a whim.
Elua had made the mistake to dream. She knew better and still she had wanted to dream that he was sincere.
He had grown bored of her. And everyone had been able to tell, but him.