Chapter 33: Greed’s Consequence

The morning sun crept over Suntails Hollow, casting a golden light that made the destruction feel even starker. Smoke curled from the remains of burned carts and damaged homes. Villagers moved like ghosts, exhaustion and sorrow etched into every step.

Some carried buckets of water to extinguish smoldering fires; others picked through the debris for anything salvageable. Near the square, a small group collected discarded weapons from the fallen bandits, piling them neatly for later use or barter.

Master Gresham’s apprentices worked tirelessly to fashion improvised stretchers for the gravely wounded. At one corner of the square, a group of older women scrubbed the bloodstained cobblestones in grim silence, their work a hollow attempt to erase the night’s horror.

Elira tended to the injured, her hands trembling as she tied off another bandage. Gorlan moved alongside her, his steady presence grounding her even as he stole glances at Dorian, still unconscious but resting peacefully inside their home.

Despite their efforts, the weight of the village’s losses hung heavily in the air.

In the middle of the square, Krag knelt among the surviving Red Bear bandits, his wrists bound tightly with thick rope. The hulking goliath sneered, his battered face still defiant despite his bruises and cuts. The other lieutenants, including Grista and Snatch, slouched nearby, their own binds ensuring compliance.

The villagers gathered hesitantly, a mix of fear and fury in their eyes as they regarded the remnants of their attackers. The air was thick with tension.

Lucas approached slowly, his fists clenched. His eyes bore a mix of hatred and grief that seemed ready to boil over. The crowd parted as he made his way to Krag, his boots scuffing against the cobblestones.

“You came here,” Lucas growled, his voice trembling with rage, “and tore our village apart. For what? Crops? Coin? We’re nothing to you, are we?”

Krag snorted, blood trickling from his nose as he tilted his head lazily. “Yer right. You’re nothing—just pigs to slaughter. If we hadn’t done it, someone else would’ve.”

Lucas’s fist lashed out without warning, slamming into Krag’s jaw. The goliath staggered but remained kneeling, his head snapping back as he laughed.

“That all you got, kid?” Krag sneered, his voice dripping with mockery.

“So all of this... because of your greed?” Lucas shouted, his voice breaking. “People are dead because of you!”

Krag chuckled darkly, his voice gravelly and cold. “That’s the way of the world, kid. Someone’s always takin’. This time, it was us.”

Lucas’s anger peaked as he grabbed one of the swords collected from the bandits, the blade heavy in his trembling hands. His gaze locked onto Krag’s bloodied face.

Lucas gritted his teeth, raising the sword. “Not anymore.”

Before Lucas could bring the blade down, a strong hand gripped his arm. He turned in a frenzy, ready to shove whoever it was aside, but stopped short when he saw Borr’s towering form.

“That’s enough, lad,” Borr said, his voice calm but commanding.

Lucas fought against the dragonborn’s grip, tears streaking his face. “Why? Why stop me, Uncle? Look at what they’ve done!”

“I see it,” Borr replied solemnly, his sharp eyes scanning the carnage surrounding them. “We’ve lost good people. But killing like this won’t undo any of it. It’ll only pull you down to their level.”

Lucas’s voice broke as he shouted, “But they deserve it! How can you just let them get away with it?”

“They won’t,” Borr said firmly. “We’ve got everything we need to make them pay. And this,” he gestured to the bandits, “isn’t just about justice—it’s about showing them we’re better than they’ll ever be.”

Lucas hesitated, his grip on the sword loosening. He turned to Borr, his body trembling. “Why does it hurt so much?”

Borr crouched beside him, placing a heavy hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “Because you’re a good lad with a good heart. The day it stops hurting... that’s the day we’ve truly lost.”

As Lucas stood motionless, struggling to process Borr’s words, Vaerin strode into the square, his presence drawing every eye. Meryth walked close behind him, her face tight with worry.

Vaerin gazed at the bound prisoners for a long moment before speaking, his voice calm but deliberate. “These men will face justice,” he declared. “We’ll deliver them to Baron Edlemar. He summoned us to help deal with the Red Bear Bandits, and this will fulfill that obligation.”

The crowd stirred uneasily. Whispers rippled among the villagers. One older man finally stepped forward, his face twisted with anger. “The same baron who abandoned us years ago? Where was Edlemar when this hollow was nearly burned to the ground the first time?”

“He’s done nothing for us,” added another villager, her tone bitter. “Not once has he sent help—or even coin. Why should we trust him now?”

Vaerin raised his hand, commanding silence. “I won’t deny that Edlemar is no friend to Suntails Hollow. But this isn’t about trust—it’s about ensuring these criminals are held accountable on a stage far beyond our borders.”

Lucas turned to Vaerin, his voice raw. “And if he just ignores it like everything else?”

Vaerin hesitated, his crimson eyes softening. “Then we’ll deal with the consequences ourselves. But for now, we give him no excuse to turn against us.”

The crowd murmured again, their frustration palpable.

As the tension subsided, the villagers returned to their tasks—tending to the wounded, cleaning the streets, and rebuilding what they could.

Lucas, his anger momentarily cooled, glanced at Krag. “You should be kneeling in blood,” he muttered before turning away, his steps heavy with grief and guilt.

Borr patted his shoulder. “You did well, lad. Even better than you know.”

Nearby, Ryssa watched as Vaerin spoke quietly with several hunters, organizing the logistics of transporting the prisoners to the baron. Her gaze shifted to Dorian’s home, where she could just make out Gorlan through the window, sitting beside his resting son.

“What was that last night?” she whispered to herself. The memory of Dorian’s brilliance—his magic, his sacrifice—filled her chest with conflicting emotions.

“We all have much to learn,” Vaerin said softly, appearing beside her as if reading her thoughts. “And much to protect.”

In the shadows of a quiet street, Bogo clutched his father’s hand, tears still falling as he whispered words of gratitude.