"Rivvennn... Tashaaa...!"
Spittle flew from Hagrid’s mouth as his voice dragged through the room in a wet slur, his swollen fingers twitching uselessly against the armrests of his wheelchair while his body shook from the effort of trying to sit upright.
"There’shh... somebody at the door...!"
His good eye widened toward the window.
"I can see hish shadow... somebody let him in...!"
The cripple jerked violently in his chair as though his body still expected itself to move, his half-paralyzed face trembling with frustration when nothing below his waist responded the way he wanted it to.
From the kitchen entrance, Riven watched the entire scene with a quiet smile resting on his face.
He stood at an angle where he could see Hagrid clearly while remaining outside the cripple’s line of sight.
As from that angle, he observed every twitch, every slurred word, every helpless tremble with the same satisfaction another man might feel while admiring a beautiful sunset.
Because no matter how many times he watched it happen, seeing Hagrid suffer never became boring to him.
However, he did not linger for too long.
The smile vanished from his face almost instantly as he rushed out from the kitchen with hurried footsteps, lowering his head appropriately while putting on the appearance of a frightened servant who had only just heard his master’s cries.
"I’ll look into it right away, Master Hagrid."
He said in an obedient voice, as he reached the door and pulled it open carefully.
*Creaaakkk*
The old wooden door creaked as it opened, while beyond it stood the most important man in all of Ashfang Tribe.
The Village Chief, Torak.
"Oh... Chief Torak, please come in."
Riven said, as he bowed deeply and stepped aside immediately, while Torak entered without acknowledging him.
The village chief’s presence filled the room almost instantly, his broad shoulders stretching beneath a thick fur cloak while his chest and arms carried the heavy, sculpted build of a man forged through decades of violence and battle.
Riven hated him.
Not with the burning emotional hatred he reserved for Hagrid, but with something colder and far more cautious.
Because Torak was the man who had ordered the extermination of every surviving male from the Blue Frost Tribe, making him one of the highest names on Riven’s revenge list.
He was also the reason why neither Riven nor his mother had ever been allowed to roam freely within Ashfang Village, as it was Torak himself who had passed the law forbidding slaves from wandering more than twenty-five meters away from the homes of the masters they belonged to, effectively trapping them within Hagrid’s brothel and its back garden for years.
Yet despite the hatred Riven carried toward him, he was also deeply wary of the man, since rumors within Ashfang claimed Torak possessed strength beyond ordinary mortals, that he could wrestle snow bears barehanded and split armored men apart with a single swing of his axe, while others whispered that ancient spirits beneath Frost Valley had personally blessed him with unnatural power.
Which was why, Riven always remained respectful of the man every time he came to visit Hagrid.
"Hagridd... you lousy cripple!"
Torak laughed deeply as he approached the wheelchair, giving Hagrid a hard slap across the shoulder that nearly knocked the smaller man sideways in his chair.
Hagrid wheezed out a crooked half-laugh from the side of his mouth that still worked properly.
"T-thorak... you bashtarrd..."
The two old men grinned at each other while Riven stood quietly near the wall, his lowered gaze hiding the hatred burning behind his eyes.
Torak eventually pulled out a chair and sat across from Hagrid, the wooden frame creaking beneath his weight as the warmth between the two men slowly faded into something more serious.
"W-what b-brrings you here?" Hagrid asked eventually, his words dragging together awkwardly while saliva gathered at the edge of his lips.
"I’m sure... you didn’t come all thish way jusht to stare at my ugly face..."
Torak let out a long breath before nodding slowly.
"I’ve come because I wanted to inform you of my decision before I let the rest of the village know about it in tonight’s meeting.
But I’ve come to a difficult conclusion, Hagrid."
The village chief leaned back slightly, his large fingers resting against his knees while his expression hardened.
"I’ve decided that it’s finally time for the Ashfang Tribe to leave Frost Valley."
Hagrid blinked slowly.
Torak continued.
"A few days ago, we received envoys from the Valdrak Empire. They recently expanded their northern borders and established several new settlements beyond the Black River."
His voice remained calm.
"They offered us land, protection, and trading rights if we agreed to relocate and settle near one of their newly expanded border towns."
"And naturally, the land they’re offering is far warmer and far more fertile than this miserable valley we’ve been rotting in for generations."
He rubbed his beard slowly.
"They need manpower to stabilize their northern expansion, and we need an escape from these cursed winters, so the arrangement benefits both sides."
His voice lowered slightly after that.
"But more importantly, joining them means becoming part of a far more advanced society. It means access to proper medicine, trained healers, cultivation resources, steelwork, trade routes, and opportunities that simply do not exist in a forgotten place like Frost Valley."
"The downside is that we will need to leave this place we call home.
But on the plus side... there might be healers there that can reverse this condition of yours."
Torak enticed, as Hagrid’s eyes shone with greed at those words.
"Niceee, very nicheee..."
Hagrid approved, as spittle flew all over.
"Though s-h-ave the politicss for the dumb villagers, tell me the tuth, what’s really going on?"
Hagrid asked, as he knew better than to take his old friend’s words at face value.
Since he knew better than anyone, just what kind of a man Torak really was.
*Smile*
At his rebuttal, Torak smiled the most hideous smile Riven had ever seen, as the man cast a brief glance towards Riven, before returning his gaze to Hagrid as he said—
"The truth?" Torak laughed deeply after hearing the question. "Alright then... I’ll tell you the truth."
His voice lowered slightly afterward as he looked directly at Hagrid.
"The truth is that offers like this are never free."
"Nothing this beneficial comes without somebody paying the price for it."
A faint grin slowly spread across his face.
"And in this case, the price is children."
Hagrid’s expression stiffened slightly.
Torak continued calmly.
"The recruiter receives one gold coin from the Empire for every Ascendant he successfully delivers into military service that’s below the age of fifteen."
"And his minimum quota is seventy-five warriors."
His fingers tapped slowly against his leg again.
"Those children will eventually be deployed to the frontlines where they’ll fight, bleed, and die trying to break enemy formations while richer men sit safely behind walls counting profits."
He shrugged carelessly afterward.
"Most of them are unlikely to survive very long."
Hagrid stayed quiet after hearing that.
"However," Torak continued, "in exchange, the rest of the clan gains relocation rights into Valdrak territory."
"Warmer lands. Proper housing. Trade opportunities. Medicine. Education for the younger children."
"And naturally, I myself receive ten silver coins for every recruit I help the recruiter secure."
He smiled openly after admitting it.
"Call it a reward for facilitating the arrangement."
He said, as Hagrid wheezed quietly.
"And you think the villagersh will agree to thish?"
The cripple asked, as Torak snorted in response.
"They’ll agree once they realize the alternatives are starvation or freezing to death inside this miserable valley."
His eyes narrowed slightly afterward.
"Besides, most parents become significantly more cooperative once they realize somebody else’s children can be sacrificed first."
The room grew slightly quieter after that.
"I’ve already made the count," Torak said.
"We currently have forty-one female slaves captured from rival tribes who fall within the correct age range."
"Twelve male bastards born from whores."
"And another ten fatherless girls suitable for enrollment."
His smile widened faintly.
"That gives us sixty-two recruits already secured before the proposal even reaches the council."
Then slowly, his eyes shifted toward Riven.
Coldly.
Deliberately.
"If you agree," he said while looking at Hagrid, "I can add that little weasel in the corner to the count."
"And then the number rises to sixty-three."
A dry chuckle escaped his throat.
"Which means I only need to convince a dozen more families afterward."
Hagrid swallowed slowly.
"And in return," Torak continued, "I’ll pay you twenty silver coins for the boy."
His gaze briefly drifted toward Hagrid’s crippled legs.
"And once we arrive in Valdrak, I’ll personally take you to the best healer available within the settlement."
The room fell completely silent after that.
Because for one brief moment, both Hagrid and Riven forgot how to breathe.