Chapter 5 Chapter 5

Kael sprinted down the mountain trail so quickly that several villagers nearly jumped out of his way when he entered Oakridge.

His heart pounded for reasons that had nothing to do with the run.

Gareth was alive.

Kael rounded a corner and froze.

A familiar old man stood beside a crooked wooden fence with a hammer in one hand and an expression of complete irritation on his face.

“Who built this thing?” Gareth muttered. “I’ve seen smarter carpentry from drunk goats.”

Kael stared.

The old hunter looked exactly the same, the same gray beard. The same worn clothes, the same permanent expression that suggested the entire world existed solely to annoy him.

For a moment, Kael couldn’t move.

The last time he had seen Gareth alive was thirty-five years ago.

Then came the fire, the attack, the funeral, and the years of regret that followed, leaving wounds that never truly healed.

Now Gareth was standing twenty feet away complaining about a fence.

Something tightened painfully inside Kael’s chest.

The old man glanced up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kael quickly looked away. “Just because.”

Gareth squinted. "Are you crying?"

"What? No."

"You absolutely are."

"It's dust."

Gareth looked around.

"There isn't any dust."

"There was."

"Where?"

Kael pointed vaguely down the road.

"Over there."

Gareth stared. "That's grass."

"The dust already left."

Gareth stared at him.

The silence lasted several seconds, then Gareth sighed.

“You hit your head again, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t hit my head.”

“You look like you hit your head.”

Kael groaned.

Without wasting another second, he grabbed a nearby wooden crate and climbed onto it.

The villagers stopped what they were doing. Mostly because nobody understood why Kael was suddenly standing on a box.

“What are you doing?” Gareth asked.

“Saving the village.”

Several villagers exchanged concerned looks.

Kael ignored them.

“We need barriers.” Nobody moved. “We need stronger walls.” Still nothing.

“We need weapons, water storage, food reserves, and defensive positions around every entrance into the village.”

A chicken wandered across the road. The chicken seemed more interested than the villagers.

An awkward silence followed.

Finally, Old Martha raised her hand. “Is this related to the head injury?”

“I don’t have a head injury.”

“That sounds exactly like something a person with a head injury would say.”

Several villagers nodded.

One man whispered, “She’s got a point.”

Kael resisted the urge to scream.

“We’re going to be attacked.”

That got their attention slightly.

Gareth crossed his arms.

“By who?”

“Bandits.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

Kael paused.

Very soon, possibly sooner than expected.

The future was already changing.

“Soon enough that we need to prepare immediately.”

The villagers looked at one another before turning toward Gareth, then back to Kael, and finally toward Gareth again as though waiting for him to explain whatever strange behavior had possessed the boy.

Kael suddenly remembered an unfortunate truth. Nobody here considered him a legendary commander.

Nobody knew about his previous life.

To them he was still a seventeen-year-old village boy who occasionally did stupid things. This was significantly less convenient.

Old Martha leaned closer to the others.

"I'm telling you, something's wrong with him."

"You think he's possessed?"

"I do."

A third woman nodded immediately.

"My cousin got possessed once."

Kael blinked.

"Why does everyone have a possessed cousin?"

"What happened?"

The woman sighed dramatically.

"At first he seemed normal."

Kael relaxed slightly.

Then she added, "A week later he tried to marry a scarecrow."

The villagers gasped.

Kael rubbed his forehead, this conversation had somehow become worse.

“We should get a priest,” one woman suggested. “We should get a doctor,” another argued. “We should hit him with a broom.”

Gareth rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"I'm not saying it's the answer." He paused. "But I wouldn't rule it out."

Kael looked betrayed.

“You too?”

“I’m keeping an open mind.”

For the next ten minutes, Kael found himself in the ridiculous position of trying to convince people he wasn’t insane while simultaneously explaining military strategy to farmers.

It went exactly as badly as expected. At one point, he used a stick to draw defensive formations in the dirt.

Nobody understood.

At another point, he explained attack routes.

Nobody understood that either. Then he accidentally predicted where a wagon would break down.

The wagon broke down immediately.

The villagers became quiet.

Five minutes later he predicted where a loose roof tile would fall. The tile fell exactly where he said it would.

The villagers became even quieter.

Gareth stared at him.

"How did you know the wagon would break?"

Kael shrugged.

"Because the wheel has been wobbling since morning."

Gareth frowned.

"You noticed that?"

"I notice things."

The old hunter looked unconvinced.

Still, people finally began listening. Not because they believed him but because they were curious.

By sunset, villagers were carrying water, reinforcing fences, and collecting tools that could double as weapons.

It wasn’t much but it was a start.

As darkness settled over Oakridge, Gareth sat beside a small fire eating stew.

Kael sat across from him, neither spoke for a while.

The crackling flames filled the silence.

Then Gareth frowned.

"You've been acting strange all day."

Kael stared into the fire.

"Sorry."

Gareth immediately looked suspicious.

"Now you're apologizing?"

"I do that occasionally."

"No, you don't."

A laugh escaped Kael before he could stop it.

He looked into the fire and swallowed the words threatening to escape, because you’re alive, you’re here, and i no longer had to stand helplessly beside your grave.

The words never left his mouth.

Instead he shrugged.

“Just in a good mood.” Gareth snorted. “You’re definitely possessed.”

Kael laughed harder.

For the first time since returning to the past, the crushing weight inside his chest felt a little lighter.

Later that night, after most of the village had fallen asleep, Kael returned to the pile of equipment taken from Garrick’s men.

Something still bothered him.

Bandits didn’t attack villages for no reason especially not after being paid.

Kneeling beside the loot, he carefully inspected every weapon, pouch, and piece of armor.

Most of it was worthless, then he found it.

A small metal token hidden inside a torn leather bag.

Kael frowned.

The symbol engraved on its surface looked familiar, very familiar.

His pulse slowed.

No, that wasn’t possible.

Moonlight reflected across the metal as he turned it over in his hand.

The symbol belonged to House Blackthorne.

Roland Blackthorne’s family.

For several seconds, Kael simply stared. Memories surfaced immediately.

Roland standing beside the Emperor, lowering his eyes and saying nothing while Kael was condemned.

A cold feeling spread through his chest. In his previous life, Roland’s betrayal happened decades later.

So why was the Blackthorne symbol already connected to Oakridge?

His fingers tightened around the token.

The attack wasn’t random, the payment wasn’t random and now this wasn’t random either.

Somewhere in the darkness, a member of House Blackthorne had become interested in a forgotten village that should have meant absolutely nothing.

Kael looked toward the sleeping houses of Oakridge.

The future was changing and he began to wonder whether Roland Blackthorne had been involved long before the day of his execution.