Salvage and Pursuit

The group returned to the site of the ravaged wagons. All four covered wagons lay utterly demolished, not a single component remaining whole. Though they did unearth one wheel with an intact rim, half its spokes were shattered, and subtle cracks marred its hub. Beyond that solitary wheel, the remaining parts of the wagons were an unrecognizable mess, reduced to nothing more than piles of splintered timber.

“Tolke, search through the supply cart’s wreckage for any surviving food and waterskins,” Noren instructed. “Hafdan, Wiz, you two collect all the iron objects, every piece you can find. Henry, retrieve all the iron hoops from the shattered wine barrels.”

As Noren dispatched her companions to scavenge for salvageable goods, she herself moved towards the remains of the supply cart, intending to recover her spare set of padded armor, clothing, and cooking utensils.

After a period of diligent searching, the group unearthed a surprising number of useful items, managing to mitigate some of their losses.

Noren gathered everyone and had them pile the salvaged goods together, then she began a rough inventory:

Among the textiles and leather items, they recovered an undamaged linen padded armor, two torn green linen tunics, a pair of trousers, a black hooded cloak, three pairs of cashmere ankle socks, a pair of tall leather boots, and a leather belt—all belonging to Noren. The others’ personal effects were meager, consisting only of some leg wraps, hooded cloaks, linen short tunics, and linen three-quarter-length white breeches.

Additionally, several wool felt blankets for sleeping and some strips of bandage cloth were salvaged, ensuring they wouldn’t have to sleep directly on the cold ground.

Regarding iron implements, most of the weapons seized from the bandits had broken wooden shafts, and a significant number of their iron components were bent, fractured, or warped. Scarcely anything remained completely unscathed; a single short javelin, two short-bladed daggers, and three small hand axes comprised the entirety of their usable iron weaponry.

Fortunately, her small, flat-bottomed iron cooking pot and several other kitchen tools had survived intact, likely due to being carefully wrapped in leather. At least the journey back would not be plagued by concerns of hunger.

Henry had also diligently collected all the iron hoops from the wine barrels. While most of these hoops were deformed to varying degrees, they could certainly be melted down and reforged.

As for provisions, though the cheese, butter, and lard were irretrievably smeared into the dirt, they managed to salvage all the wheat, bread, smoked jerky, cabbage, and turnips. They would not want for sustenance on their return journey.

“Not too bad,” the blonde girl murmured, her expression easing slightly.

Yet, when her gaze fell upon the eight draft horses, still trapped in their yokes, unable to escape the onslaught and now mangled beyond recognition, her heart bled with sorrow. While these horses couldn’t match the prowess of warhorses, they were far more agile than common draft animals, equally adept at riding and hauling cargo, making them superior to most ordinary riding horses. All of them dead. Her losses were immense; even if she sold these eight versatile horses for their weight in silver, they would have fetched at least ten pounds. She was utterly devastated by the financial blow!

“With such heavy losses, it seems I can only hope the noble treasuries of Olomouc Castle and the ducal capital of Prague are sufficiently flush with coin…” Noren murmured softly to herself, already contemplating how to recoup her losses from the secular lords. Indeed, she intended to uphold Bohemia’s finest traditions, embracing the role of a noble brigand who plundered the rich to aid the poor! ‘Hmm! Plundering the wealth of those old lords to alleviate her own poverty—that counts as a third distribution, doesn’t it? What? You’re saying it doesn’t count as a third distribution if those lordly old men aren’t *willing* participants? If they’re opening their treasuries to me, aren’t they, by definition, willing? And if they’re not, well, they’re welcome to try and catch me~’

“Hmph hmph~” Noren hummed with delight. The mere thought of recouping her losses from the venerable noble treasuries significantly brightened her spirits. However, acts of chivalry and grand larceny would have to wait. For now, the paramount task was to return to Ostrava with her companions.

“What do we do next?” Tolke inquired.

“Next? Why, next we retrieve our warhorses, of course!” Noren had not forgotten that both her and Tolke’s mounts had fled. Since the horses were still alive, there was no logical reason not to reclaim them.

“Which way should we search?” Tolke asked, recalling that he hadn’t been mounted before the giants attacked, as sitting in the saddle for extended periods was exhausting. After the giants appeared, his entire focus had been on them, leaving him no opportunity to observe which direction his white warhorse had bolted.

“Over there!” She pointed towards the ruins of Osbrück Manor; to the east of the desolate estate lay a particularly dense copse of trees.

“Discard your bow and quiver, and take these three axes instead.” She casually picked up the sole undamaged short javelin, then offered the three remaining hand axes to Tolke.

Tolke unslung his empty quiver and cast aside the simple wooden bow from his back. He then secured two short hand axes in his waist holster, gripped a third in his right hand, and prepared to follow Noren.

“Hey! Wait a minute, you two are just leaving?” Hafdan exclaimed, watching them stride away with a bewildered expression. “What about us? What if the giants return?” He seemed to think they had completely forgotten about him and the others.

“Oh, right,” the blonde girl responded, turning her head briefly. “You all find some vines, lash together any usable planks, and drag what you can southwards!” With that hurried instruction, she swiftly led Tolke away, sprinting towards the manor ruins.

Hafdan’s face settled into an utterly resigned expression. After watching the two figures disappear into the distance, he turned to Wiz and Henry. “Well, let’s get to work.”

****

“Hiss~ You bastard, that hurts!”

The Thin Man cursed vehemently, but his angry shouts did little to alleviate the agonizing pain wracking his body. He delivered a resounding slap to his brother’s face, who was carrying him. “Idiot! Slow down! Are you trying to jolt me to death?!”

The giant Bru, however, failed to comprehend his brother’s words. He simply lumbered forward, his massive feet thudding heavily against the earth with each ponderous stride.

“You imbecile! Didn’t you hear me?!” the Thin Man shrieked, his voice a raw, grating croak. “I said—*Stop!*” The excruciating pain in his leg was driving him to the brink of a complete breakdown.

“Bru?” Bru tilted his head, the arrow still embedded in his face wobbling precariously. This time, he understood his brother’s command to ‘stop’.

Bru slammed to a halt, his massive feet carving two long, shallow furrows into the earth. The sheer force of the sudden stop sent the Thin Man, whom Bru had been carrying, flying with a “whoosh.” He tumbled several times across the leaf-strewn, grassy ground before his head struck a tree trunk, knocking him unconscious once more.

“Bru?”

The giant Bru ambled over to his brother’s side and prodded his face with a thick finger. Even without much force, each poke caused the Thin Man’s cheek to visibly distort. After prodding for some time with no reaction from the Thin Man, Bru simply sat down, lay back, closed his eyes, and began to sleep.

“Damn it, why did they stop running!”

Not far away, a man and a woman lay hidden behind a thicket of bushes. The woman’s tone was notably agitated; she wished she could personally stride over and slap the giant awake.

“Do we truly need to keep following them?” the man questioned, a hint of worry clouding his features. “We’ve already located our two warhorses. Wouldn’t it be better to turn back? Trailing them is far too perilous, and didn’t you just say revenge could wait?”

The woman, Noren, gritted her teeth and declared with unwavering resolve, “We follow!”

“Noren…” Tolke began, intending to press his argument further, for in his judgment, this course of action remained far too reckless.

She cut him off. “While revenge can indeed wait, we first need to pinpoint their lair. When the time for vengeance finally comes, we can hardly just foolishly stumble into the forest and bellow, ‘I’m here for revenge, come out!'”

Seeing the young woman’s unwavering determination, Tolke found himself unable to argue further. He sighed inwardly, realizing that if Noren was set on this path, he had no choice but to accompany her.