Ambrose stacked the logs in the way Trelen had described. Resulting in a pile as tall has his chest with a small opening at the bottom that led to about half way through its width.

  "I think I'm done?" he said, still looking at the wood.

  Trelen carefully stacked another brick, securing it using some purified clay they had spread on the brick below it. They looked up and walked over to see his work.

  "Looks good, you can start packing the mud around it now."

  He nodded while wiping some sweat from his brow. "Keeping the hole at the bottom open right?"

  Trelen nodded. "We will close it up after it's lit."

  Ambrose was very confused how setting fire to wood, would made it so it was better for setting it on fire again, but then he also didn't know how to make a kiln, so he put his trust in the Slovèi.

  He started to pack the wet clay onto the wood pile, silence forming between the two as they worked. He had been wanting to talk to Trelen about his plan when he headed into the city and now seemed as good a time as any.

  "When I travel into town, I am going to report to the city guard what happened to you, did you want to come as well?"

  Trelen slowed for a moment, but then continued stacking bricks. "I didn't ask you to do that."

  Ambrose grimaced, he had been worried that they wouldn't be happy with his plan. "Slavey is illegal in this country, they might be able to help." Ambrose offered.

  "There is nothing they can do."

  "But they migh-"

  "THERE IS NOTHING THEY CAN DO!" Trelen screamed, "There is nothing anyone one can do!" They didn’t look at him but Ambrose could see tears began slowly falling from there face.

  "Trelen, what, why?"

  They seemed to calm somewhat, but he could see they was still shaking.

  "My family are dead; my village is burnt. Who cares if slavery is against the law, that law didn't help when I was being beaten and dragged on to a ship."

  Ambrose honestly didn't know how to respond, mostly because they were right. Even if the guards found, arrested, even executed the people who had attacked his village, it wouldn't bring back what they had lost.

  He was about to mutter a response he hadn't completely thought through when a familiar twinge hit his sense, he expected it to dissipated like it had the other times, but instead it slowly turned from an acute awareness to a pulsating panic.

  His head quickly turned towards the camp. "Somethings wrong." Was all he got out before he started running back towards the camp.

  It only took him a few minutes to get there, bursting out of the tree line and scaring the goblin family who has sitting quietly working or playing.

  "Lord Ambrose what's wrong?" Gro-lag asked, standing from where he had been carving runes.

  "Well well well, this is a surprise."

  Ambrose froze, mouth open from what he had about to say. He looked and saw four people, three men and one woman, walk into the camp.

  Rennie let out a small cry and ran to her mother arms while both Ambrose and Gro-Lag stepped forward in near unison to meet the strangers.

  They were all wearing leathers that at one point seemed to have been dyed black but had been sun bleach to a dark grey. Their skin was tan and they had their hair cut short.

  "Apologies if we startled you, we have been traveling for a few days now and was wondering when we would come across a settlement."

  Ambrose couldn't place their accents, but they sounded like the common tongue of Hallia was not what they usually spoke.

  "The city is about a quarter days walk if you continue down the path." Ambrose said, pointing back towards the it.

  The man who had spoken nodded and smiled. "Good, we are not far." He looked around the area, lingering a bit on the goblins. "Could we perhaps trouble you for some water?"

  Ambrose considered the request for a moment. While he had the unmistakable feeling that these people where not to be trusted, they actually hadn't done anything that would confirm his feeling, perhaps he was just being overly cautious.

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  "Of course, follow me and I will show you where the river is." He turned to start making his way but stopped when he saw Trelen standing not far behind him, their eyes wide with fear.

  "Captain, that's one of ours." The women of the group said.

  "You've wondered far haven't you." The man she had referred to as captain said with a smirk.

  Trelen stumbled back in a way that made Ambrose think they was going to fall, but instead they turned and started to run.

  The captain side eyed one of the other two men in his group, a skinny man with blonde hair. At the gesture he raised his hand and it glowed slightly. Trelen fell mid run, hitting the ground hard and started to be dragged by the force of the skinny man's magic back towards them.

  "Stop!" Ambrose said firmly standing in front of the Captain.

  "Look I know they're quite useful, but this Slovèi is ours." He said, so casually it made Ambrose feel sick.

  Ambrose quickly took from his belt and raised his hunting knife, so that it sat just below the Captain's throat.

  The man didn't flinch at the blade, staring at Ambrose for a few seconds, before raising his hand in a signal that caused the mage to stop.

  "I don't know how, but I know that this is your land, but that is my slave, my crew captured it and if it wasn't for our little accident we would be half way home by now."

  Ambrose moved the knife slightly closer to his neck and the Captain stiffened slightly.

  "Look, if you hand it over now, I will even ignore that barrel of our salt you got over there, or if you have the coin, you can offer to buy it, but I warn you, slaves aren't cheap."

  "Trelen is not a slave." Ambrose said through gritted teeth. "And they are under my protection."

  The Captain nodded slowly. "Well, it's your land, and if that's your decision."

  He quickly jumped back out of the reach of Ambrose's blade. "Put 'em to sleep Sten!" He said as he did.

  The mage raised both his hands, before slowly lowering them again.

  "What are you doing, cast your magic!"

  The mage Sten seemed confuse as he raised his hands once again, and once again slowly lowered them. "I, I can't."

  "What do you mean you can't?"

  "I don't know, I just can't."

  The Captain looked daggers at the mage before his expression changed to one of concern. He looked back at Ambrose and then said something in a language he didn't understand stand.

  The mage responded in what Ambrose assumed was the same language and the Captain slowly nodded.

  "This forest is like nothing I have even experienced." He said looking around. "Now I am guessing only this area around here is yours based on my feeling." He stepped closer to Ambrose. "I wonder what would happen off of it."

  Ambrose held eye contact with the man, slowly raising his blade once again. "Leave, you are not welcome here."

  At his words the captain's face dropped and he stepped back seemingly in pain.

  "Captain?" The women said.

  Ambrose was confused for a moment before catching up with what he had done. "All of you are not welcome." He said; almost commanded, to the rest of the slavers.

  The three others all seemingly began to feel the same pain as their leader, who made his way past them. He stared at Ambrose, grimacing. He spoke again in the foreign language, and the four all made their way towards the path.

  Once they were gone Ambrose turned and walked to Trelen who was still on the ground. He bent down and helped them up.

  "Are you ok, you're not hurt?" He asked.

  Trelen was still breathing heavily, the look of fear only now slowly fading from there face.

  "I, I think so?" They said, their voice trembling. "How, how did you do that?"

  Ambrose turned and looked at Gro-Lag and his family. Little Reenie was quietly sobbing in her father's arms, and baby Gren-Lag hadn't even woken up in the commotion, but both of the grown goblins where staring at him, thinking the same question Ambrose assumed.

  He turned back to Trelen. "I honestly have no idea."