Severin awoke to a cold metal floor underneath him and dank cavern air assaulting his senses. His hands were manacled, and a metal plate dug into his forehead, fastened by a tight band. Severin had a thought that these bands must have been similar to those used on Tomadi, his first master.

  He was bound like a Seidren. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of excitement at the thought that he had warranted a mana sight inhibition band. Even though he was only stem Seidren. He closed his eyes and felt for the space behind his heart, up against his spine. He felt with some senses that he didn’t quite understand, and there it was. Severin took an excited pull on the mana around him, but realized he could only remotely feel the mana. It also didn’t respond to his draw. Oh right, the manacles.

  Severin examined them and saw they were a silvery metal with streaks of blue running through the strange alloy. Severin had been rushed away from Snowdrift and through the city. This had all come through bouts of wakefulness. As he looked around, he noticed that he was sitting in a metal cell in a row of cells that made their way down in a row.

  Several of the cells were occupied as Severin glanced around. They were a despondent group. The occupant of the next cell turned and watched him, his eyes shone slightly in the faint light that came from an unidentified light source. Severin noticed the chains that bound his fellow cellmate, and he raised his bound hands in a short wave.

  The man spoke, and his voice sounded like gravel under a millstone. “Greetin’s and welcome, enemy of the Crystalline Frost Sect. Me name is Veldic o’ Swift Rivers.”

  “Severin, of Bjevin.”

  “Ah, you’re castellanic as well? That makes me old bones settle a little lighter. What are you doing away from the homeland, brother?”

  “It’s kind of a long story, elder brother.” Severin told him.

  The old man settled back down from the raised seated position he had been holding himself in and grunted. “I ain’t got nothing but time. Still waiting to see if me Sect will pay me ransom. You inna hurry, then you can keep it to yourself, I just be a listenin’.”

  Severin sat in the near-dark, as the old man rolled over. His sitting turned to waiting, and he realized he had nothing to do. So he told him.

  —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Severin walked along the main road of Bjevin, bearing a huge pack, loaded with flour, apples, and the other necessaries for running an inn, which his parents proudly owned. His steps were careful, due to the weight of the cargo he bore. As he made his careful way, his mind was occupied with fantastic thoughts of Seidren warriors.

  Severin’s family did not have ties to any Seidren clans or groups, but they lived in Bjevin, where the thunder fist clan protected the mortals, and had stake to the ground. They were very numerous, and they operated most of the business, farming, and government tasks of Bjevin. The fact that Severin’s parents owned an Inn, and were also not members of thunder fist, was quite rare, and he was secretly very proud of the fact.

  Bjevin noticed a group of youths, around his age, walking toward him on the road. They all wore the robes of Seidren, and they were talking animatedly as they walked towards him. Severin got to the side of the road, and watched them pass. One of the kids noticed him, and turned to face him, nudging his friends to get their attention.

  “Turtle, kneel to your Seidren!” The girl who had noticed him announced. She stepped forward and pointed at the ground in front of Severin. Severin smiled in awe at the girl.

  “Honored Seidren, I would love to, but kneeling is really hard. I’ve got a delivery for the Hearth and Hammer.” The Inn his parents owned. They poured their heart and soul into the Inn, and it showed, it had only been built about five years ago, but Severin knew that many of the occupants of the city had confided in him that it was the best.

  The girl who had told him to kneel looked nervously at a larger boy in the group. He had perked up upon hearing the name of the Inn. He stepped forward.

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  “The Hearth and Hammer. What are you doing running an errand for that dump?” The boy stepped forward, but Severin’s eyes raised from the ground quickly, flashing angrily.

  “It’s not a dump. It’s the best inn in town!”

  “My parents own the Dusty Lantern, and everyone knows it is the finest inn in town. Your folks are blanks, and they shouldn’t be running something like an Inn.” The boy gave a light shove, and Severin took several steps backward, struggling against the change in balance from the large pack. He glanced nervously backward, as he knew that a meter or so from the edge of the road, there was a ditch. He caught his balance, and glared at the boy.

  “I’ve walked past the Dusty lantern. It’s never as busy as the Hearth and Hammer. It’s called dusty for good reason.” Severin said the last line with a smirk.

  The boy shoved him, and Severin had never been hit so hard in his life. His feet lifted from the dirt, and he was thrown backwards into the air. The pain in his chest from the shove was his only companion until he landed on the far side of the ditch, slamming into his pack. His fall was slowed by the contents of his large pack that he landed on, but he heard contents breaking, and apples bruising. Flour exploded from a rip that happened with the rough landing, and it splashed into the air in a large white explosion, settling onto him like snowfall.

  The boy followed Severin down into the ditch, and Severin watched mutely as he rifled through the spilled content of the pack, throwing apples to his friends. He kicked the pack several more times, causing contents to scatter, and aimed a few kicks at Severin, who was cowering on the ground. He rolled away and watched the boy as he trampled his pack.

  Finally, the boy got up, and left, dusting off his robes, which were smeared with the contents of the pack. He called Severin a couple slurs as he left. Severin stumbled to the pack and fell down, tears heavy in his eyes. He had managed to withhold them when confronted with the danger, but they fell freely now, mixing in the ruin of the large pack.

  Severin picked up what he could, and trudged back towards his home. He made his way to the back door, ignoring the open door to the Inn, where loud voices and a traveling bard could be heard spilling out into the night air.

  Severin had walked long enough for his tears to abate, and he numbly placed the ruined pack where it belonged, where the chef or his mother could find it, and he walked to the stairs. He made his way to his bedroom, and he lay on the floor in a miserable ball, unwilling to stain his bedsheets with the mess on his clothes. As he lay there, pain from being thrown began to surge in his back. He stayed there on the floor until his door was pushed open hurriedly. Four figures spilled from the doorway into the room, with varied questions that ranged from Severin’s older brother, Petrus’s angry: “who did this to you?”, to Severin’s mother’s inquiry after his well being.

  Severin turned away from the hubbub. Despite being almost twelve years old, Ternic, his father picked him up in his strong arms and carried him to his bed where his family fussed over him. He let it happen. Reila, his younger sister, sat firmly at his side as he was laid in his bed. He wasn’t hurt too bad, and after he had been fussed over,everyone gathered around to hear what had happened. Severin’s family was close. Five years earlier they had come to Bjevin after evacuating in the face of a calamity. They had come here, and started an Inn, but the town treated them like outsiders even after all this time.

  Severin told them of his misadventure on the road. He was interrupted several times in the way of a family gathering, but by the end, he had relayed the story. He could tell his parents were not happy by the story, but his brother’s face was boiling to an angry red by the end of it. Petrus folded his arms and leaned his chair back on its hind legs.

  Reila, Severin’s little sister hadn’t said much, but she was still holding Severin’s hand. He pulled his hand out now, realizing that he had been holding it for a long time. He was getting older, and he couldn’t be holding his sister’s hand all the time. He would be twelve in the coming month.

  “Severin, that boy you fought today is the nephew of one of the stronger Seidren in Bjevin. They have owned the Dusty Lantern for a long time. We were required to petition them for permission to build Hearth and Hammer. They didn’t believe we could make it work, and we offered them quite a sum of money. Now we’ve gone and become the most famous Inn in Bjevin. Your mother and I have feared something like this since travelers have told us of our reputation.”

  “You mean you were afraid of being attacked by our Seidren?” Severin asked from his place on the bed. “They protect us from monsters, magic beasts, and rival Seidren. They wouldn’t attack us. We need to bring this action in front of the village elders!”

  Severin’s father looked worriedly at Severin. “Your mother and I will discuss how we are going to handle this. You need to rest.”

  “He’s right, father.” Petrus interjected. “We should bring this before the thunder fists and tell them about it. They damaged the goods, and attacked your son.”

  “We will discuss this, and let you know what we decide. This is an issue for your parents.” Ternic answered.

  “Father, they attacked me. I think we really should talk to them, and ask the elders to make it right.” Severin said from his bed, his earlier anger flaring up.

  “Very well son, we will address the clan elder.” Being almost twelve, Severin didn’t notice the way Ternic’s fingers trembled when he made that promise.