Chapter 407 The Right Choice (Part 1/2)

"I see something over there. Wait, that's a person. It's…Frey? Frey! Frey! Wake up! Shit, he's got hypothermia. What happened to you, Frey? Look, there's his tracks."

"I'm picking up a couple scents. I know what Elero told us but I can't believe my own chef did this. Doesn't Frey have immunity to poison?"

"Thomas, ask later. Look, there's someone else. I got both of them. You handle the rest. Bring back anything that looks useful. Hurry!"

Again, Frey sank into the murky black. The light above had extinguished; Frey's power had exhausted itself, for now. Without a fight to win, there was no reason to get back up. A shift drew his gaze to a remnant as it fell towards him. 'This is from the piece of Owen's magic I absorbed,' he thought. With the last of his fading strength, he grabbed onto the remnant and looked into it.

Frey stood where Owen stood, felt what Owen felt, and heard what Owen heard. A fog enveloped the surroundings, the memory old yet powerful.

A tall, dark robe fluttered through lines of freshly-shaved children. The figure's steps were soundless yet its voice seemed to resonate within the air itself. Owen listened in awe, allowing the voice's meaning to claw inside of his little head. "We are the goddess's tools, separate from the monastery. Seedlings. You will be planted wherever you are needed and, in the years to follow, you will spout! When the goddess calls, seek them out, the inheritors! Only then will this world be as the goddess intends: a paradise!"

In a flash of radiant energy, Frey awoke. He sat up. Reality sunk in, a strange, luxurious reality as he found himself in a room so sickeningly comfortable that he wondered if it was another remnant.

Everything in the room was comfy; the crackling fire a few feet from the foot of his high bed, the window peering out into the courtyard, the soft blankets, and the hole-less walls that kept out the morning dew. Frey then recognized the Virility symbol, a rose. He lay in a guest bedroom within the Virility estate. 'I guess I'm more used to looking in than looking out,' he thought.

"Stay down," a voice urged him. Frey looked left and found Doevm, who lightly pushed his head back on a fluffy pillow. Everyone was there: Thomas, Elero, and…Olpi. They all sat by the bed with relieved expressions.

Frey tried not to stare at Olpi as he asked, "What happened?"

"You passed out while carrying Olpi back to the mansion," Doevm explained. "Luckily, Elero had managed to escape, and warned everyone about who Owen was and what he was planning. Thomas and I found you on the outskirts of town, and then we found Owen soon after."

Frey nodded. "Elero, thank you for what you did, but why didn't you come help me instead?"

Elero held out a familiar looking dagger, the same blade which originally marked Frey's shelter. "Olpi risked her life sneaking me this blade so I could cut myself free. If I wasn't so weak right now, I'd slap you with it, you ass."

"S-sorry," Frey stammered, although he didn't know what he was specifically apologizing for. "You look fine now, for what it's worth."

Elero sighed and put the dagger in her spatial ring. "The miracle of a good night's sleep, a warm bath, and healing magic. Anyway, I'm sorry I couldn't beat the crap out of Owen with you, but at least you didn't freeze to death out there."

Frey nodded. "It's alright, I slapped around him enough for the both of us."

Elero gave him a "friendly" punch in the shoulder: "Good."

Doevm cleared his throat: "Did you figure out Owen's goal? Why did he do this, and how? Did he give any hints before he was frozen?"

Frey shot a look at Olpi, who subtly shook her head, letting him know that she hadn't said anything. After all, while she and Elero had helped, it wasn't their fight. However, they had joined. They had risked their lives for his family. 'If I had gone off on my own,' he thought. 'I wouldn't have come back.'

He looked each one of his friends in the eyes as they sat around his bed. Family or not, they were there, while Gwen rarely was. 'If Gwen was here and she heard that I was injured, would she even get out of bed?'

"Hello?" Doevm waved his hand in front of Frey's face. "What happened?"

Frey swallowed both his saliva and his pride as he asked this of his friends: "I uh…I could use a bit of help."

Doevm blinked: "What?"

Olpi fervently shook her head, signaling that he didn't have to tell them anything. She knew all too well that it was his fight and his alone. That was before he was humbled by a few bowls of poison and a traitor.

Frey raised his voice. "I would like some help from all of you, please." He fought the urge to lower his head. Or maybe he should have bowed? Was please enough?

"Please", the word hung in the air. The group looked around as if they couldn't bring themselves to believe that it had come from his mouth.

"What kind of help?" Doevm asked, the first to react.

"I ask this for my nephew Arte, not me," Frey assured him. "Owen took my family to Vilbar. He said that he would reforge them as some sort of weapon…"

Frey explained the rest to them, with Olpi chiming in to fill in the gaps. The room's light shifted as the fireplace's flames danced along the blackening wood, creating a heat that slowly fogged the room's single window to the outside. When he was done, he sighed. "I know you're going to say I'm stupid Doevm, but I thought I had no choice."

Doevm, whose frown had slowly deepened throughout the explanation, shook his head. "I understand."

Frey furrowed his brow. "You do?"

Doevm rubbed at his wrists. "I know the War Monks better than most, unfortunately. First they implant themselves in your life, then they learn about you and try to isolate you. If you had been captured, you would have been broken. Trust me on this one. There was no 'right' choice."