Much time had passed since he was living steadily in Port-à-Lucine. His life had changed a lot in the past two years, far more than when he lived in Sturben, but now it seemed simply it had undergone a break, a delay, a sudden slowing. The working routines at the Village of Barovia were changed just by his attempt, successful as it was, to become a proper smith. It was ironic that he could not find silver: “Laws are written in silver” was the motto inscribed on Borcan currency.
His Storm coming from the desert had left him, to help Lof and Rare, both friends of his too. She wanted to help them to free themselves from that dead end in which they had remained stuck. Arden sniffed crime, kidnapping, murder, treason, scheming: just Church of Ezra was missing and then he would have not seen any difference from Borca. The dragon eating people, and the Vallaki Garda, it was not part of his life, he was not planning to have them in either, but in the chain of actions and non-actions and their consequences he had remained, again, alone. He was about twenty years old by now, his new attempt to find some base happiness in a social context was frustrated. Again.
He was not helping communities. The individuals needed to be helped on a individual basis, every time, to avoid the birth of new monsters. Every time such a thought came to his mind he felt his back itching more and more, growing nervous, stuttering, finding an escape strategy from whatever he was involved in. He had tried to help just Vistani, because worried of their evil eyes. He was told, when kid, that Vistani could shuffle the deck of their tarokka and decide the reading even before picking the single cards: and most times the recipient of the reading saw the foreseen simply happening. After the trouble with Invidians and eventually Darkonians he did not refuse any help to Vistani. Madame Eva was, apparently, finally saved, he gave his contribute when was asked, he did not when he was not asked.
He tried to believe it was just humans being led by greed, frenzied patriotism, or excess of private property feel. Other kins simply behaved the same, just with a different display of what they really wanted. Feys, pitics and hins would have helped mostly their own kin. He gave another chance to hins when he knew Shally. Her sense of freedom, combined to some form of duty, were almost the same of his own: she had joined the Wayfarer and he helped her in two occasions, and she was helping some Vistani with a Carnival planning, and he give her a hand as well. It was when he met Papu. He liked her, he was simply not ready to even think about any new relationship. The Storm had left burning marks due to thunders and lightning striking his own young heart.
He had tried to believe the lower classes of Port-à-Lucine could be helped because they showed more motivations than Barovians at some form of change. Sister Winter and his close friend Riva, of the Church of Hala, were the individuals thorugh which he would have helped, or tried to help, a whole community. It seemed, again, a worthless and pointless effort. Buildings are harder to collapse than simple trees because of the structure: and even having an only tree down does not make a forest any less than a forest. The layers of structured societies were too much for him to fight. He had pondered for a long time before his last trip. His naïve vision of life made him think that something would have been possible where things had been already destroyed. No need of revolution and restoration, he would have needed to focus just on the latter.
He did not like farewell, but he put some effort to give his adio to his closest remained friends. He was ready for a lone scouting of the lands south. His friends probably would have helped him if, at his return, the scouting had proved to be successful. He introduced Raven to Shally: he would have needed them both at his return. The mutual assistance of the packs of wolves. He felt as an alpha wolf looking again for a pack. His back was itching more than usual.
If that land were easily conquered, he could not know now; if the uncorrupted nature provided resources enough to establish a little group of people, he could not know now; if the risk and the effort was worth, he could not know now either. The scouting should have cleared his mind on those topics. He left moving southward, past the Village of Krofburg. Winter was coming and he did not know what expecting from that land known with the name of Forlorn. Its highlands were barely visible from the Balinoks. Clean sheet.
He was alone, again. But he knew that Arden will not walk alone.