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The heavy iron portcullis slammed down with a resounding metallic thud behind them, sealing off the perils of the open road.
Captain Robard’s squad guided the creaking cart into the outer bailey, threading through the bustling courtyard toward the inner castle keep.
Near the center of the yard, Lord Divish stood beneath the shade of the timber gallery, listening intently as his chamberlain gestured over a thick ledger of grain stores.
“My Lord, Henry has returned!” Captain Robard called out, marching forward and coming to a sharp, crisp salute.
Henry dismounted from Olena, his knees stiff and his armor heavy with the grime of battle.
But before he could step forward or utter a word, Sir Divish raised a calm, commanding hand to pause him.
The old lord’s eyes swept over Henry, noting the dried Cuman blood caked along his chainmail, the deep soot smudges on his jaw, and the sheer exhaustion etched into his face.
“You look like you’ve been dragged through a meat grinder, lad,” Divish said, stepping closer to look him over.
“Don’t try to speak just yet.” Go, wash the blood from your hands, take some rest, and we shall speak once you have recovered your breath.”
Henry nodded respectfully.
“Thank you, My Lord.”
Before seeking his own rest, Henry led Olena and the cart toward the castle stables.
He approached the head horse groomer, reaching into his belt pouch and pulling out five silver Prague groschen.
Pressing the coins firm into the groomer’s palm, Henry looked him dead in the eye.
“Take good care of Olena and the draft mares,” Henry instructed, his voice low and firm.
“Feed them well, rub them down, and make sure no one touches a single grain sack or weapon in that cart.
It belongs to the refugees of Skalitz.”
“Understood, master,” the groomer replied quickly, eyeing the silver with wide, respectful eyes.
“I’ll guard it myself.”
Henry then made his way to the outer guest cottage near the inner wall, where a warm tub and clean clothes had been prepared for him.
In an adjacent room, Lady Stephanie’s maidservants had already settled Theresa into a soft feather bed, leaving her to sleep off the harrowing terror of her ordeal at the mill.
An hour later, washed clean of blood and soot and dressed in a fresh woolen tunic, Henry walked up the winding stone staircase of the keep.
He stopped outside Sir Divish’s private study, took a steady breath, and knocked firmly on the heavy oak door.
Knock.
Knock.
“Come in,” called Sir Divish’s voice from within.
Henry pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Lord Divish sat at a broad oak desk covered in parchment maps and official seals, while Lady Stephanie stood near the stone hearth, holding a cup of spiced wine.
The moment Lady Stephanie set eyes on Henry, her face softened, and she stepped forward with genuine warmth.
“Henry!
Oh, I am so glad to see you back safe and sound!
We feared the absolute worst when you slipped away .”
Henry bowed his head politely.
“My Lady, it was all thanks to your help.
I would never have been able to bury my parents—nor would I have come back alive.”
Lady Stephanie shook her head gently, a look of somber admiration in her eyes.
“I did very little, my child.
It was your own bravery that carried you through.”
Lord Divish set his quill down on the desk, leaning back in his tall leather chair and fixing Henry with a stern, heavy gaze.
“What you did was utterly foolish and reckless, Henry,” Divish said, his tone dropping into a serious, scolding register.
“You could have easily been cut down in the woods.
You could have gotten yourself killed, or dragged Robard and my men into an ambush trying to retrieve your corpse.
If you had died out there, Sigismund’s raiders might have tracked you straight back to Skalitz, making an already terrible situation far worse.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room, before letting out a long, weary sigh.
“And yet…
I cannot deny that had it been my own mother and father lying unburied in the dirt, I might have done the exact same thing,” Divish admitted quietly.
“Whether by divine luck or sheer skill, you survived.
So tell me—what is the state of Skalitz?”
“There’s nothing left of it, My Lord,” Henry said, his voice flat with fatigue.
The lower town is gone.
Scavengers and Cuman runaways are already turning over the corpses and digging through what’s left of the storehouses.
If Lord Radzig ever wants it back, he’ll need an army to clear them out.
“Alas,” Sir Divish murmured, looking down at his desk with a heavy heart.
“It will be a long time before Lord Radzig’s banner flies over those walls again.” He looked back up at Henry.
“And what of your plans now, Henry?
.”
“Tomorrow morning, I intend to drive the cart south to Rattay,” Henry replied plainly.
“I must meet with Sir Radzig, report everything I witnessed regarding the bandits in the valley, and deliver the grain, lard, and supplies I salvaged.
The survivors of Skalitz are starving in the lower bailiwick of Rattay, and this food will keep them alive.”
Lady Stephanie’s eyes shone with deep emotion as she looked at the young blacksmith.
“To think of your people’s hunger after all you have suffered…
you have a noble heart, Henry.”
Sir Divish stood up from his desk, walking around to face Henry directly.
“It is truly brave of you to keep your people in mind during such dark times,” Sir Divish said, resting a heavy hand on Henry’s shoulder.
“Truth be told, Lord Radzig explicitly requested that I keep you safe behind Talmberg’s walls and not allow you to wander off again.
You have earned the right to choose your path.”
Sir Divish turned toward the window, looking out over the misty forest trails.
“Give my highest regards to Lord Radzig,” Divish instructed firmly.
“Tell him that Talmberg remains secure for now, but warn him to watch his northern borders closely.
The troop movements along the river bank suggest something larger is brewing.
And be careful on the road—as Captain Robard surely warned you, the forests are crawling with cutthroats.”
“Yes, My Lord,” Henry bowed deeply.
“I will deliver your warnings and your regards without fail.
Thank you for your hospitality, your wisdom, and your protection.
Thank you, Lady Stephanie.”
“May God speed your journey, Henry,” Lady Stephanie whispered softly as he turned to leave.
“Pray keep yourself safe.”
Night fell over Talmberg Castle, bringing a cool, quiet fog that wrapped around the stone battlements.
Henry returned to his quarters, sleeping deeply for the first time in days, knowing that Theresa was resting safely in the keep and his draft horses were well-fed in the stables.
The next morning broke with the soft golden glow of dawn filtering through the eastern clouds.
Henry was up before sunrise.
He choked down a chunk of stale bread and some small beer from the kitchens, then went down into the court.
Robard was already by the wagon, kicking the spokes and checking the harness straps himself.
Theresa walked out into the crisp morning air, looking far more rested.
The color had returned to her face, and though sorrow still lingered in her dark eyes, her posture was steady and composed.
Mutt trotted faithfully at her side, his tail wagging low as he greeted Henry with a soft bark.
“Are you ready for the road, Theresa?” Henry asked, helping her climb up to the bench seat of the wagon.
“With you driving?
Always, Henry,” she smiled faintly, pulling a thick traveling cloak around her shoulders.
Sir Divish and Lady Stephanie stood on the upper gallery to see them off.
Captain Robard walked up to the side of the cart, resting his gauntleted hand on the wooden rim.
“Keep your crossbow loaded and your eyes on the treeline, lad,” Robard advised, a faint, rare smile breaking through his grey mustache.
“You’ve proven you can fight, but a wise soldier avoids a trap altogether.”
“I won’t forget, Captain,” Henry grinned, taking the leather reins in his hands.
With a click of his tongue and a flick of the leather reins, Henry guided the two heavy draft mares forward.
The cart wheels creaked over the cobbles, Olena trotted faithfully behind in tow, and Mutt bounded ahead toward the open gates.
As the drawbridge lowered across the moat, Henry looked back one last time at the high towers of Talmberg Castle before turning his horses south toward the valley of Rattay.
================================================
The morning fog hung low over the eastern hills as Henry guided the draft mares past the wooden gates of Talmberg.
The creak of the cart’s heavy wooden wheels and the steady clatter of hooves echoed across the damp dirt track.
Theresa sat beside him, wrapped in her thick wool cloak, while Mutt trotted comfortably alongside the horses, sniffing the roadside weeds.
Taking the eastern road away from the main valley, Henry set their course toward the quiet village of Uzhitz.
It was a safer, more open route than the dense, monster-ridden woods near Ledetchko, providing clear sightlines and smooth roads for the heavy wagon.
As the morning sun slowly warmed the air, Henry let the horses maintain a steady walking pace.
As the mares kept a steady pace, Henry let his mind settle, taking inventory of how his body felt after the ordeal.
The fusion of his modern mind with Henry’s memories was finally solidifying—the muscle memory of Master Martin’s craft mixing with the bitter lessons of real combat.
=================================================== [ CHARACTER STATUS: HENRY OF SKALITZ ]
[PRIMARY ATTRIBUTES]
• Strength : 7 ──> 8 (+1) [Heavy digging, corpse hauling, cleaving]
• Agility : 6 ──> 7 (+1) [Evasive footwork, close-quarters dodging]
• Vitality : 7 ──> 8 (+1) [Sustained trauma, forced march, endurance]
• Speech : 4 ──> 8 (+4) [SOUL MERGE: Modern rhetoric, blacksmith, poise & wit]
[COMBAT PROFICIENCIES]
• Swordsmanship : 4 ──> 6 (+2) [First real blood: 5 scavengers, 2 Cumans]
• Defense : 3 ──> 5 (+2) [Live parries against saber & bludgeon]
[SURVIVAL & UTILITY]
• Lockpicking : 7 ──> 7 (–) [Maintained]
• Stealth : 6 ──> 8 (+2) [Stalking ruins, evading steppe outriders]
• Blacksmithing : 6 ──> 9 (+3) [SOUL MERGE: Master Martin’s full secrets]
• Herbalism : 3 ──> 4 (+1) [Field triage & emergency dressing]
===================================================
A slow, satisfied breath escaped his lips.
The fusion of his modern soul with Henry’s original body now had given him complete control of the body he now has henry’s complete memory including blacksmithing and the fusion also laid a good foundation, but the brutal life-and-death skirmishes against the scavengers at Rovna and the Cuman raiders at the Skalitz mill had accelerated his growth dramatically.
He was no longer the clumsy blacksmith’s apprentice who struggled to swing a training sword; he had the reflexes, stamina, and instincts of a hardened man-at-arms.
The cart rattled as the hooves of the draft mares struck the hard-packed dirt track.
Instead of taking the direct trail south through the narrow, overgrown gorges toward Ledetchko, Henry kept the reins turned northeast toward the open fields of Uzhitz.
Taking a heavily loaded wooden wagon through the thick forests was asking for trouble.
The path near the riverbank was narrow, flanked by steep, forested ridges—prime ground for Cuman outriders or desperate local bandits to throw a fallen log across the trail.
By taking the long loop past the Uzhitz farmlands, they traded speed for survival.
The terrain was flat, offering clear sightlines for half a mile in every direction, and gave the heavy mares smooth ground to pull the Skalitz grain without blowing out an axle.
Theresa turned toward him, noticing his quiet focus.
The pale, terror-stricken shadow that had hung over her since Skalitz was beginning to fade, replaced by a calm, resilient light in her dark eyes.
“Henry?” she asked softly.
“Just…
making sure we’re prepared for whatever comes,” Henry replied, offering a warm smile.
“The road to Rattay won’t stay quiet forever.”
Theresa looked down at the light weight crossbow tucked beneath the canvas tarp in the footwell.
“Teach me how to use it.”
Henry blinked in surprise, looking over at her.
“The crossbow?”
“Yes,” Theresa said, her voice resolute.
“You saved me twice, Henry, but I don’t ever want to sit helpless while you risk your life to defend me.
If bandits come, I want to stand with you.”
Yes this is the Thersea that he knew.
“Alright.
We’ll stop near the tree line ahead and get you properly trained.”
Henry pulled the cart into a grassy clearing off the Uzhitz trail.
While the horses grazed, he retrieved the hunting crossbow and a leather quiver of steel-tipped bolts.
“First rule,” Henry said, stepping up behind her.
“A crossbow isn’t like a longbow—you don’t need years of muscle memory to shoot it straight.
But you have to respect the tension.
If your foot slips while spanning it, the iron stirrup will break your ankle.”
Henry stepped in close, placing his hands gently over hers to guide her fingers along the smooth, oil-rubbed ash stock.
“Plant your left boot right here,” Henry murmured near her ear, tapping the iron loop at the front.
“Keep your weight centered.”
As Theresa leaned forward to draw the heavy hemp string upward into the nut, her breath hitched.
Her hands trembled—not from the weight of the bow, but from a sudden flash of memory: Cuman boots heavy on the mill floorboards, the smell of smoke, and the terror of being cornered.
Sensing her tension, Henry covered her hands with his own, taking part of the load and bracing his chest against her back to anchor her.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly, his chin resting near her shoulder.
“You’re safe now, Theresa.
Exhale.”
Theresa let out a long, shaky breath, resting the back of her head against his shoulder for a brief second.
The heat of his tunic and his steady heartbeat anchored her.
“I’m not letting anyone corner me again, Henry,” she whispered, her fingers locking firmly around the stock.
“Not ever.”
“They won’t,” Henry said, guiding her sightline down the wooden channel toward a rotting tree stump thirty paces off.
“Now…
squeeze.”
THWACK!
The iron string snapped, driving the heavy bolt deep into the heart of the wood.
Chunks of rotting bark exploded into the air.
Mutt barked approvingly, wagging his tail.
Theresa didn’t look at the target immediately.
She turned her head, her dark eyes searching Henry’s face.
Standing close in the morning air, a faint blush touched her cheeks, but her gaze remained steady.
“Like that?” she asked, a small, genuine smile breaking through her grief.
Henry looked down at her, his hand lingering on her shoulder just a moment longer before stepping back with a grin.
“Just like that.
Lord Radzig won’t know whether to make you an archer or a captain.”
“Right in the heart,” Henry grinned, resting a hand on her shoulder.
“Keep practicing that loading motion.
If we get into a fight, you stay on the cart and keep the string drawn.”
After securing the crossbow back under the canvas tarp, Theresa sat on a overturned crate near the edge of the clearing, pulling her knees to her chest.
Her eyes drifted to the tree line where wild white flowers nodded in the breeze—Widow’s Carrots.
“My mother used to dig those roots up when the winter grain ran low,” Theresa said quietly, her voice tightening with raw emotion.
“She called them Widow’s Carrots because only women who had lost everything were desperate enough to scrub the bitter dirt off them to keep their children from starving.”
She looked back at the heavy wagon loaded with sacks of rye and salted lard.
“Back at Skalitz, we took bread for granted, Henry.
We complained when the crust was dry or the ale was flat.
Now…
people are dying in the mud outside Rattay’s walls, chewing on bitter weeds while Sigismund’s mercenaries drink our cellar wine.” A single tear tracked through the dust on her cheek, but she wiped it away furiously with the cuff of her sleeve.
Henry walked over and sat beside her on the grass, resting a gauntleted hand over her trembling fingers.
“We aren’t just bringing them grain, Theresa.
We’re showing them that Skalitz hasn’t broken.
Every sack on this cart is a strike back at the bastards who tried to burn us out.”
Theresa looked at his hand resting on hers, then up into his eyes.
The grief in her face gave way to a fierce, quiet resolve.
She squeezed his hand back, noddding slowly.
“Then let’s not keep them waiting,” she said, standing up and heading back to the wagon seat.