Two Days prior

  The caravan rolled out of Timberbrook just as the first hints of dawn peeked over the horizon, a thin band of orange splitting the night’s fading darkness. Fifteen wagons trundled in single file, their creaking wheels and the soft clatter of hooves the only sounds in the still morning air. Each wagon was battered and weatherworn—logging wagons repurposed for the journey eastward.

  The townsfolk moved with the quiet efficiency born of years spent working together, their faces set with grim determination. Everyone knew their purpose: aid Fairhaven, assess the damage, and save survivors they could find. Rook sat on the lead wagon, flanked by Elric and Mareen, two of Timberbrook’s better archers.

  Grassland stretched endlessly before them, the sea of green shimmering with dew in the pale light. It was the kind of landscape that could lull a person into a false sense of safety, but Rook’s eyes never stopped scanning.

  “Fairhaven’s not far, not if we keep this pace,” Elric said, his voice low.

  “Still a day out,” Rook replied, leaning forward to survey the horizon. “And a lot can happen in a day.”

  The wagons rolled on, the soft murmurs of conversation drifting back through the line. Everyone knew everyone here, their lives intertwined by shared labor and hardship. Yet the mood was subdued, the memory of Timberbrook’s own battle still fresh in their minds.

  By midday, the grasslands gave way to sparse clusters of trees, the wagons weaving through the natural breaks in the landscape. It was here they encountered the first signs of Fairhaven’s devastation.

  From atop the wagons front seat Rook saw a small group of haggard survivors stumbling into view from the trees ahead, their clothes torn and their faces hollow with exhaustion. The caravan came to a halt, and Rook climbed down from his wagon, motioning for the others to hold position.

  The survivors, some 500 people were led by a man who wore a set of heavy plate bearing the seal of the Fairhaven Guard. A scattering of other less well-dressed and well armored men followed him. Their group looked distinctly separate from the surviving peasants who followed them. Rook did not know the man, but he disliked his look.

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  “Fairhaven?” Rook asked the man.

  The man nodded, his voice hoarse. “Gone. Monsters came in the night. We ran, but not everyone made it. There are still people there. Hiding, maybe. Or worse.”

  Murmurs swept through the caravan as the survivors were helped onto the wagons, given water and scraps of food.

  “The giants have been gone from there for at least two days,” Mareen murmured to Rook.

  Rook looked to the man and asked "What was it that you saw, surely not the Giants. We have reports they are moving north as we speak."

  "No" Came the reply. Rook saw the man's eyes glance about as if calculating. "We do not know what they are. Small green things that moved about in the night. may I have your name sir?"

  Rook thought for a moment and then replied cooly. "I am Rook, of Timberbrook. I am a captain of his majesty's militia."

  A light came to the means eyes, and he said "I am Captain Jean of the Fairhaven guard. My father was the Baron Gelroy. Where is it you go Captain?"

  Rook stared at the man for a moment. Then sighed deeply. So that was to be the way of it. "I go to my holding on the river Captain."

  Jean nodded and then seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Finally, he gathered his courage and said "Well, I would have you and your men accompany me to retake the city of Fairhaven then. As is only proper."

  Rook had seen this coming, and he let out another deep sigh rubbing his forehead as he thought. Eventually Rook cast his eyes to Elder Tompson who had ridden up to the front of the column.

  The old man had heard everything, and he gave Rook a steady look. After a time, he gave a single nod.

  Rook smiled and said "I apologize Captain, but I am unable to accompany you. The Milita marches to my holding to await orders."

  Jean began turning red as he opened and closed his mouth. Finally, he got hold of himself and stuttered out "By the gods man, I will not have a commoner tell me what to do. You will order your men to follow me and retake my land post haste."

  Rooks smile slipped off his face, and he jumped off his wagon with a huff. he stalked forward slowly until he was face to face with Captain Jean. Slowly rook spoke, ensuring only those closest to him could hear, he did not want his words to make it to the women and children who were close behind the lead group of men. "Your father was a coward. You ran from the fight and abandoned your city, Jean. I have no desire to work with or for you. I will not sacrifice my men on this fool's errand. Now, if you wish to you may follow behind my train with your people. We go to my mill. If not, you may go to our settlement in Timberbrook, though I warn you that we left little in the way of meat or grain."

  Rook stepped back and said loudly "My honor to meet you, Captain. Good day" and walked back to his wagon where he leisurely climbed atop the seat and signaled the driver to proceed.

  Rook was unsurprised to see Captain Jean and his people following close behind. He would need to talk to Ibron and discover how to manage provisions for 500 more souls.