Broken Antler Fen Would you rather be a king in hell, or a stooge in heaven?

Having spent some days resting away from the other members of Brecheliant — mostly avoiding the attention of Eljay, to be quite honest — Reyes felt less like a used speed-bag. His bruises had almost faded by now. The only deep cut left was the one to his pride, which was entirely his own fault.

In short: he sulked. As the days wore on he fell in to his usual routine of patrols and cache maintenance, little by little adding more distance to his route as the ache in his body receded. Not once did he think of Ramesses with ill-favor, or the man's guards; they had most likely put up with a lot of shit from Reyes and he couldn't exactly fault them for the defense of their home.

As his route took him through the clearing that he'd once, seemingly long ago, cleared for his children to use as their training ground, he noticed how poorly looked-after it was. Weeds had sprung up across much of the flat areas, with snow piled high regardless. Debris — broken branches from the trees around the clearing — had piled up and rotted in a way that prevented movement through the core of the field. There were toys, complete with teeth marks, left forgotten and strewn about, lined with ice.

Reyes set to work tidying up the place as best he was able, admittedly taking his time as he worked. After a couple hours of this toiling there wasn't much of a difference - but it kept him occupied.