Ramon Emilio Lo’Reta Rojas would hear of his brother-in-law’s death, dropping to his knees. The only person left from his family that still wasn’t dead, crazy, a plant thing, or just rude and never talked to him, is gone forever. The young boy clenched his left fist as he stared at the ground, tears rolling off his cheeks. He would hear that Bjorn, too, lost his right arm, just as Ramon did when he was 13. He sighed, remembering Bjorn’s face when he saw the young boy, his right sleeve empty. Many memories went through his head, from the first time he met Bjorn, that same day he lost his arm, to the last, at the tavern in Haense, as they drank ale together. He wished he could’ve been there, even just to comfort Bjorn, but he wasn’t, he was in Helena, still sitting in the same alley he had been in for years, thinking on how to get a job. The boy would slowly stand up, leaning on the wall next to him, wiping his tears. He grabbed his axe, slowly starting to walk out of Helena, dragging it on the ground, his body weak. He quickened his pace, starting to walk fast, lifting his axe off the ground, running now. As he ran out of the gates of Helena, he darted into the woods, just needing something to hit. When he get deep enough, he started to hack at a tree, tears forming again. He’d continue until he cut it down, eventually doing so, falling to the ground, both in exhaustion and in sadness. The boy looks up to the sky. ”May you find peace, brother.” He would look back down as he cried, praying for Bjorn. Many emotions would continue to haunt him for quite a few weeks, both awake and in his dreams: Anger, grief, sorrow, guilt, and pity for Gabriella, Ubbe, and Einar, Bjorn’s wife and children. The boy would make it his vow both to kill Bralt, or to at least help in his demise, as well as to follow in Bjorn’s footsteps, maybe able to become as great a man as him.