Lowpine Barrens – Borderlands of Velgrath
The banner was old—its edges frayed, sigil sun-faded, pole cracked like a veteran's spine. But it still flew. A black boar on gold, the mark of House Velstrom, staked atop a rise where three hills met in tangled roots and thawed earth.
Aeron Thorne crouched below the ridge, eyeing it from the shadow of a gnarled elm. Harwin knelt beside him, silent, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Elric, the former sellaxe, muttered a curse under his breath.
"Velstrom, here?" Aeron said, quiet but sharp.
Harwin nodded. "Shouldn't be. That land belongs to House Caerwyn's holdfast. Not since the Horn Pact was sealed."
"Then it's a move," Aeron muttered. "Not a mistake."
Beyond the hill, a war camp sprawled like a wound. No more than fifty men, but they bore steel and order. Tents staked in neat lines. Watchfires burning green with alchemist's oil. A field-cook bellowing orders over bubbling broth.
Harwin squinted. "That's no border patrol. They're digging in."
And dig they had. Aeron could see the stakes—fresh-hewn palisades, a trench half-formed. Not defense. Fortification.
Behind them, the boy—Tarn—tugged Aeron's cloak. "That banner… my da used to say the boar only runs when the crown's asleep."
Aeron looked at him. "Your da was a wise man."
They moved back down the slope, careful to stay low. At the base, under the cover of brush, Aeron knelt with Harwin and Elric.
"If House Velstrom's moving on Caerwyn land," Aeron said, "it means one of two things. Either Lord Caerwyn's hold is broken… or he's playing both sides of the board."
Harwin grimaced. "He's Mirelle's kin. Think she'd lie to you?"
"She already has," Aeron said, coldly.
Elric pulled a half-burned map from his pouch, smoothing it on a flat stone. "If we cut east through the ruins of Tor Glen, we can reach the river fork by dusk. But if they've closed the crossing—"
"They will," Harwin said.
Aeron didn't hesitate. "Then we find a third way. The Vale paths, maybe. Or under."
Elric snorted. "Under? You planning to dig?"
Aeron met his eyes. "No. I'm planning to remember what's been buried."
He turned to Tarn.
"You said your village knew the old catacombs. Are they near?"
Tarn blinked. "Aye, but… they were sealed. Ma said no one goes in. Bad ground. Worse breath."
Aeron nodded. "Then they're perfect."
He stood.
"We go now. Tonight. Before the banners shift again. Before Caerwyn decides who he really serves."
Harwin rose beside him, brow furrowed. "What if we find more than bones in those tunnels?"
Aeron looked toward the fading banner.
"Then we ask the dead what the living are too afraid to say."