Chapter 41: Welcome to House Osric.

​Resven’s gaze softened slightly as he straightened his posture, though his words remained formal. "If the Chief has chosen you, then you are one of us. Welcome to House Osric."

Adara’s smile turned sly. "Then we bleed and laugh together, m’lord."

Mestin had been silent, his massive frame looming like a fortress behind the others. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "You stood watch. That is enough."

Adara eyed him, curiosity bright. "Ah, the mountain. Pleasure, truly."

The tension eased into camaraderie. Telarin grinned widely, muttering as he followed Resven toward the cabins. "By the abyss, this place just got a lot more lively."

"Come, we need to report to the Chief, bring the healers as well."

Bramm had stood on the porch, witnessing the whole scene. At first, he was nervous about how the group would respond to Adara’s way of speaking and somewhat playful bluntness, but it turned out better than he imagined.

He exhaled in relief. ’Seems there’s nothing to worry about—for now.’ Following Resven and Telarin up the slope were Elpseth and Torin, still draped in their black robes. Mestin and the others went to address the builder’s needs and accommodations.

Bramm’s gaze narrowed as Resven approached. He peered past Resven’s shoulder at the bandaged arm, wrapped in clean linen—unstained by blood or marks. Eyes moving to Telarin he could see, the man had not left without his share of wounds. Telarin’s leather had been stitched neatly, salve glistening faintly where briars had cut his ribs. Bramm’s eyes wandered over both men.’Should be because of that Dread Ape ambush... but this is too clean for either one of them to do.’

The condition. The treatment of the wounds surpassed anything his house could achieve. "Who tended you?"

Resven inclined his head toward the two behind him. "The lady Elspeth. She is the healer Mornell had us seek out, my Lord."

Bramm’s gaze followed Resven’s gesture. Elspeth stood just behind him, copper-red hair catching the glow of the evening sun, her braid trailing over her shoulder as she folded her hands. She was slender, poised, her hands still faintly stained with salve. Torin loomed behind her, his eyes narrowed onto Bramm, standing silent and watchful.

Bramm approached, mantle over one arm and shoulders squared. He stopped just before the two of them, his voice low but steady. "You’ve already seen to my men."

Elspeth turned, her voice soft but edged. "I did. That’s my job. I presume you want the same here?" She gestured around.

"I thank you then. I do not have many good, loyal men at the moment. Each one of them is a treasure, so, on behalf of House Osric, I extend my gratitude." He nodded. "And yes, I wish for you to remain in my house as our healer... my men are in dire need of your skills."

Elspeth tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "Let’s see if your House can bear what I need," the first time, Bramm’s lips curved into a faint smile. He nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Of course, if it’s in my ability to provide, I shall see it done."

Torin’s gaze flicked to Bramm, sharp and measuring, but he did not speak. Elspeth’s eyes softened, though her chin remained lifted proudly. The silence stretched between them, filled only by the crackle of laughter as the men from the builders’ guild settled in for the night, weary from the day’s travel.

Finally Bramm let his mantle fall across his shoulders. "Welcome to House Osric, Lady Elspeth. May your hands keep my men standing."

***

Later that night, after most had retired and campfires burned low, Bramm and Mornell remained by the fire, the builder hunched over a plank of wood, charcoal scratching in quick, sure strokes.

Bramm lowered himself onto a log opposite, his mantle heavy on his shoulders. He watched lines form—rough timber, walls, angles—before speaking. "You’ve done a wonderful job, the cabins..." Bramm said in a calm, thoughtful voice. "They’re enough to keep the wind out for now. But this place has to grow. I want it to become a haven for these men, and for others in the future. This world can be a cruel place. You and I both know that."

Mornell didn’t look up. His hand moved, sketching the curve of a gate. "Indeed, we know all too well. So if that is what you wish for, tell me your thoughts?"

Bramm leaned forward, his hand on the haft of his axe. He spoke slowly, choosing each word with care. "A gate first, made from the Iron oak or even a sturdier material if possible. Watchtowers on the ridge and a few other places surrounding our fences. They don’t need to be large, just enough space for two men to move comfortably at the same time."

"Then, most of the men I have will be warriors, and although fighting the beasts is good, beasts won’t be our only enemy in the near future... I want a special area for a training ground where they could fight to their hearts content when they aren’t fighting in the woods."

"And for now, probably a larger storage or warehouse for drying our curing the beast meat and preserving the materials. This one will be solely used for that task, then I want another one for the more common materials. What do you think?"

Mornell’s charcoal paused, then moved again, sketching the rough outline of a tall, broad gate. His mouth twisted into a half‑smile. "Quite a lot you’ve commissioned me to do, aye? Well, I’m certain we can make it work. It may take some time, but it’s doable."

Bramm’s gaze drifted toward the unfinished entrance, where the night wind whistled through the gap. "Good, the sooner we get this finished the better."

Mornell sat back, rubbing the charcoal dust from his fingers. "Give me a few weeks and it shall be done... I’ll have to do some intake, with the newest additions you want, we may need to gather more supplies... more than once." He gave a short, practical grunt.

The fire popped, sending sparks into the dark. Bramm laughed loudly as he agreed, and so the night ended with a beautiful dream of what’s to come.