Kallain Windral, heir apparent of the throne of Zersal son of Sallas and lady Vrilian, lay sleeping in his bed on a bright sunny mourning. He woke with a slight headache to the sound of snoring outside his chambers. The night before had been Kallain's 22nd birthday and he was recovering from a night of festivity and many a toasts in his name. The owner of the snore was his trusted and aged bodyguard Reinoldus. The old man had been a great knight when Kallain's father was a boy and had the misfortune of spending his retirement tirelessly protecting the prince. Now as Kallain's princely duties took up more and more time leaving less and less for "risky adventures" most of Reinoldus's duty's involved staying up most of the night guarding the parlor that lead from the castle to Kal's chambers.

An odd ritual the two shared, as soon as one was woken by the others snoring the other knew it was his time to rise. And so Kallain splashed some cool water on his face and got dressed. His mother would demand that he wore something stately so that he could properly see off the various nobles who had stayed overnight. Though he ignored this hoping that they would all be too hungover to care, instead choosing something comfortable.

Kallain was walking down the hall hoping to grab something before breakfast from the kitchen when Serell the royal scribe and historian approached him in a hurry. "Lord Kallain i'm so glad I found you! I wouldn't bother you normally sire but i'm afraid your the only one who can help me!" He yelled halfway down the hall ripping into your tender groggy head with his shrill piecing voice. Finishing his jog he then lowered his volume (not by much) and continued by saying, "You see my lord there is an old farmer waiting in the great hall praying to meet with the royal family he claims he greatly needs your guidance! I know this is a job for your mother or father but King Sallas is entertaining duke Kree and and lord Grellius in his study, and lady Vrilian is interviewing potential handmaidens! Your parents have asked me to find you to deal with this saying they with support whatever you decree." He finishes out of breath. As his job includes pronouncing lengthy titles and reciting century long history and bloodlines Serell had a habit of speaking very quickly.

"Well... I... Very well if i'm the one for the job." Kallain said tiredly not feeling the strength to argue. Besides a chance to finally create a royal order? This could be interesting.

"Well...I...Very well, if I'm the one for the job." Kallain said tiredly, not feeling the strength to argue...Besides- a chance to finally create a royal order? This...This could be interesting! Rubbing his temples with his hands, massaging the aftereffects of his own birthday party away slowly as he turned and mindlessly followed the Scribe. A small grimace of pain was all that brewed from the hopeless effort, but as he moved the stiffness in his joints and the fog on his mind faded. Unfortunately, that meant the sharpness of a headache was quite apparent- but all things considered, Kallain had suffered through worse in his life.

"I'm going to be honest Serell, last night is a bit foggy to me and I'm still clearing my head- can you give me a bit of a brief on the situation?" He asked in a hushed tone as they neared the Great Hall. Various guests of the festivities last night passed by, or rather grumbled by, and all warranted different gestures of acknowledgement from Kallain as he progressed to the Great Hall, the task's weight now dawning on him. Some people got nods, others a firm handshake, and yet a few still got the smile of those who were on the inside of far more than a few jokes and a friendly embrace.

"Well, Highness..." Serell began, taking in a short breath as his stride failed to miss a beat. "A farmer, as I said before, has been showing up regularly for visits with your father. The farmer's name is Tamlyn, son of George, and he's a well respected member of the village of Helcomb, a short distance to the east. Each time he comes he spouts nonsense about the goings-ons in the town, and to be quite frank I don't put stock into an ounce of it." this dialogue was concluded and punctuated by Serell's hand on the door handle.

However, it's not up to me what you do with it, Highness, your mother and father are backing you- not me." This seemed to be a discussion the Scribe had partaken in before, but wasn't about to elaborate on at this point. Kallain tilted his head a few times, stretching his neck, before just heaving a weighted sigh.

"This can't be that bad, Serell. I'll see if it's nonsense, and if it is I'll just send him away. If he keeps coming back there's got to be stock in it though, no?" And with a tired smile, the young prince was ushered into the Great Hall, where who he assumed to be Tamlyn son of George was apparently waiting for him; an older, aged, man, whose body was hard and marked by years of work in the field. It was the kind of man who only spoke when something needed to be said- someone who had a job and got it done rather than complained about the work. These kinds of people had an air about them, and this man's was all too familiar to Kallain; his father had the same air of duty about him.

Coming from a low farmer like this, though...now that was odd.

Kal walked towards the throne, and sat down. Usually, he wouldn't sit down in the Big Chair, as he liked to call it. He stood at his father's left hand, opposite of his mother, while court was in session. In their absence, however, Kallain would be, as the Heir Apparent and Prince of the Realm, acting tyrant king, for the moment. Actually, wouldn't he technically be the Regent, if he did this? Anyways, he thought, Back to the problem at hand. Waving for Tamlyn (Son of George,) to speak, Kal rested his elbows on the armrests (which were actually quite ergonomic, in retrospect,) and steepled his fingers, noting it as Serell stood at his right, preparing to record the Court audience.

Tamlyn, (Son of George), wrung his hat in his big hands, and while he did seem the hardworking laborer type, Tamlyn (son of George), seemed quite nervous, as if the Crown Prince might execute him on the spot. Well, to be fair, most of the citizens had only seen him from afar, (although he had a few friends among the nobility,) so they, for the most part, had yet to form their own opinions of him. Stepping forward, Tamlyn (son of George) bowed, stood back up, and spoke.

"Turnips." The farmer blurted out the word, as if that explained the entire situation.

Kallain, confused, (and rightly so), said, "Turnips?"

The farmer, uncomfortable with the subject, fidgeted. "Aye, m'lard, thar be hostile turnips attackin' yer vassals, on the outskirts of the village. We're afraid t' even leave! I barhley escaped the place m'self, and even then, dat were a close shave. Please, you need ta help us!"

Kal frowned, and said, "..... What?"

Kal frowned, and said, "...What?" At first Kal thought the man must be joking, but after looking at his face for a moment and seeing no trace of humor in farmer's expression, he realized Tamlyn wasn't joking.

"So, you're telling me that vicious root vegetables are attacking your village?."

Immediately Kal could sense that he had said something wrong as the farmer's face grew tight with irritation. Kal knew the man wouldn't say anything rude, Kal was the acting regent in his parent's absence after all, and insulting the regent was tantamount to treason. Kal sensed though, that had he been anything less than of royal blood, he would have been subject to a clout to the ear from the now obviously irate Tamlyn.

Kal put up his hand in a gesture of peace, "A little joke, though a poor one it seems, allow me to offer you a room in the palace for the evening by way of an apology, while I and my advisers work out how best to solve your er...problem. Food and wine will be provided of course"

After the farmer was led off by a chambermaid Kal turned to look at Serell and said in a nonchalant tone "Serell, would you be so kind as to tell me what the hell that was about?"

"Um, yes your Highness. As you may have gathered the er..."Turnips" are not actually of the vegetable variety...as such. They are, in fact, a group of violent bandits. Their rather unusual moniker refers to their habit of "popping out of the ground" to raid farmers and merchants. They seem to have grown bolder of late, as they're currently occupying the village that Farmer Tamlyn hails from."

"Don't you think that might have been more useful information to have before I made an ass of myself?"

"Yes, sire"

Kal sighed and rolled his eyes. It was just to much to ask that his parents absence be uneventful, wasn't it? In any case, it was up to him to find a solution to this problem, even if he had no idea what that solution might be yet.

Kal sat thoughtfully a moment longer, Serell hovering to the side of the throne, the scribe fidgeting with his writing instruments.

The throne room was relatively empty, no other audiences had been scheduled for the morning, and other than the alert guards flanking the doorways, the only other person in the room besides him and Serell was a maid sweeping up the dust in the corner.

Kal had always liked the stories of the Hobin Rude as a child, the grumpy-yet-kind bandit king who defended the innocent and fought injustice. He had fantasized about being Hobin's trusted ally, and when he was young he would play 'Knights and Bandits' with the other noble boys at the court, with Kal always taking the role of the bandit leader.

It wasn't till later that Reinoldus told him his soldering tales about dealing with bandits, cruel men who were too dumb or twisted to be able to be a functioning member of society, instead resorting to self-serving violence to get their way. And after what Tamlyn (Son of George) had said, Kal was dubious that the 'Turnip Bandits' would be gruff yet honest champions of the meek.

"Brother? What did you say to that farmer? He practically threw me against the wall as I passed by him."

Lifting his head, Kal turned and saw his younger sister, Drevala, enter the throne room and stride towards the throne, the green skirts she wore as a sign of her order rustling behind her.

Only three years younger than him, Drevala had been one of Kal's closest confidants and playmates growing up, and he had missed her sorely when she left ten years ago to become an ordained priestess of Spaldi, the kingdoms patron god. Even though Kal had known her fate growing up, all of the eldest royal daughters must become ordained, her leaving had come as something as a shock to him.

Despite the separation, the two continually sent regular correspondence to one another, and Drevala returned to court for important events, including her brother's birthday.

Springing up out of the throne, Kal rushed down the steps and embraced her.

"Hello, sister, and a good morning to you to."

She laughed, a bright sound that made Kal wince and regret his hangover. Kal noticed the strength of her embrace, the muscles in her arms were far more defined than he would have expected. What sort of training did these priestesses have her doing?

"Forgive me, Kal. Mother wished to speak with you, and I volunteered to find you. It seemed important, though she didn't say what.

A slight cough came from behind Kal, and he turned to look at Serell, who was once again fidgeting with his implements, and struggling to make eye contact with Kal.

"Aah, forgive me, sire, but I feel it necessary to remind you that Tamlyn (Son of George) will likely be wanting to hear your solution to the Turnips soon, lest he take slight.

"Aah, forgive me, sire, but I feel it necessary to remind you that Tamlyn (Son of George) will likely be wanting to hear your solution to the Turnips soon, lest he take slight."

Kallain eyed the scribe carefully, appraising his cautious and subtle directive with some hesitation. He slowly exhaled and tilted his head, as if contemplating things quite deeply. His lips peeled back as he licked his tongue across his teeth in a gritty show of distaste, before adjusting his stance a bit to carry more authority;

"Serell, this man's issue is a high priority. Bandits running amuck within the villages and harassing our people is not 'nonsense' as you put it earlier. Yes, the way Tamlyn [Son of George] presented the information was...dramatic, but I feel as though you held the issue a good deal lower in regard than it should have been. I have a wondrous solution to the issue." Serell drew back a bit at the accusatory tone of Kallain and looked a bit disarmed at the young prince's sudden retaliation to the scribe's prodding demeanor.

"V-Very well, highness, what is it you wish to do about Tamlyn's issue and the village of Helcomb? What is your decree in regards to the handling of the Turnip Bandits?"

At this, Kal shifted and looked to his sister. His hand reached out and held onto hers, linking the siblings together again in a more calm manner of affection. Drevala smiled for a moment, before pulling her hand back and adopting a slightly more withdrawn state.

"I'll leave you to this for a moment brother, and tell mother that you'll be on your way as soon as possible." the girl curtsied, then turned and walked briskly away- casting a glance back at Kal as she left. Kallain smiled briefly before Serell's grunt of I-need-your-attention-young-prince once more stole his mind back to the present.

"It's quite simple Serell. We have bandits? Sending a full military force to hunt them down would be pointless. Word would spread, the ruffians would hear about it, and they'd scatter. The best choice is thus; Select a handful of our most competent soldiers and prepare them for the task. We shall set out in less than a week's time." At this, Serell simply had to interject...

"'We' sire?" the scribe said with apt incredulity.

"Yes, 'we'. Myself and the soldiers, that is. You'd make for a horrid battlefield companion I imagine, Serell- much more suited to books and lengthy titles if my memory serves." Kal grinned, showing he was attempting a semi-friendly joke. "However, to answer you more seriously... The people simply don't know me all that well, and I could feel it from how Tamlyn saw me. That's a man who came here and asked for help, and men like him don't ask for help. If I don't do something about it personally, it'll feel just as much like a slight than me ignoring him would be- at least, in a political if not moral sense."

"I for one think that is foolish, and that your childish dreams of heroics and bandit kings has gone to your head." Serell replied bluntly, his tone dry. Kal contemplated what he said for a moment before offering a shrug.

"If I go, I stand to benefit both the people and myself. If I don't and the bandits are taken care of, then all I am is a puppeteer who doesn't bother handling his issues with his own hands. At least, that's how I see it." Kal didn't really have as much steam behind this as he did his initial petition to Serell, but it was more honest than he intended. Serell's frankness, as it always did, was slowly eroding the prince's edge.

"Very well, highness, I shall have it as you wish; a small group of soldiers will be assembled for your...bandit hunting."--that was a sudden change in Serell's tone, but it was a sudden relief for Kal and he thought nothing of it for the moment.

"Good, make sure you include Reinoldus among the soldiers as well. I'll leave it up to you Serell, and go along to see what my mother needs of me." With a solid nod, the young prince turned on his heel and briskly left Serell behind, instead walking out of the great hall an-

"--Oomph!" a voice said from somewhere below Kal's chin, as the figure of his sister stumbled back.

"Were you eavesdropping, Drevala? was Kal's amused appraisal of the situation.

"No! I was simply making sure you arrived to mother in a timely fashion- come, let's go!" she said, hiding her blushing face as she turned and hurriedly rushed off ahead of Kal.

"No! I was simply making sure you arrived to mother in a timely fashion- come, let's go!" she said, hiding her blushing face as she turned and hurriedly rushed off ahead of Kal.

Kal shook his head and chuckled. Honestly Kallain was surprised he caught Drevala in the act as the siblings would often eavesdrop on their parents together and (to their knowledge) were never seen.

Though He was very grateful to have some time to catch up with his sister, last night they had very little time for just the two of them to talk, and the long staircase to their parents chambers gave them the perfect opportunity. So how long will you be staying with us? Surely your business in Crest Port is resolved.

Spaldi was the patron God of medical healing (not clerical or magical, entirely different arts) compassion, and humans, and so his disciples are tasked with healing the sick and injured, and to teach others to do the same. Drevala after receiving her priestess robes two years ago, she had been living at the temple in the port town teaching foreigners herb lore and proper medical technique in hopes they in turn would spread their knowledge back home.

Drevala sighed before answering. "I'm expected to be on the road to the Green Moot in two weeks. Unfortunately the church is... rethinking the missions in Crest Harbour. Many of the non humans don't trust our 'pagan' God's and most of the humans who travel have no time for the teachings of Spaldi!" The young priestes's mood soured and Kal then attempted to cheer her up.

"The Green Moot? Genius idea! First the halflings can steal all the medicine, then the Yelb can sell it to the druids for pebbles!" A smile played on both the siblings faces and Drevala tried to contain a laugh. The halflings are steadfast allies of Zersel and rulers of the small country of Green Moot, yet notorious thieves, while the Yelb who often migrated through there were very dimwitted, trusting, and backward. Yelb have a insatiable curiosity and love for possessions and will pick up most anything they find lying on the ground. The Yelb are often described as turtles who lost their shells and grew longer arms and legs.

When the two finally reached their parents chambers her mother sat smiling in her parlor. When she saw the two queen Vrilian said, "Aww... good your both here! Meet my newest handmaiden!"

Kallain turned to his mother, and took her hand, bowing. Afterwards, he gave a light bow to the handmaiden, a pretty young redhead, around Kal's age, wearing a dress similar (though much less expensive than) his mother's own. "I am pleased to meet you, miss, however, I do not have a name to put with the pretty face. Might I ask it?" Kallain said this with a polite smile. Truth be told, he didn't know what to think of the handmaiden. Pretty, yes, but why did Mother make Drevala and himself come all this way to meet her?

The young woman curtsied, and said, "My name is Alexandria, m'lord. I am afraid I can only give you a first name; where I come from, surnames are unimportant." Kallain raised his eyebrow at the woman's slightly foreign accent, and looked at Drevala, who nudged him in the ribs and winked. Whatever that was supposed to mean. So Mother's new handmaiden was from Preugua, a nation far to the east of Zersal, which was led by a Senate of representatives of all the Highland Clans. Interesting. The Preuguans were notable in the fact that they were incredibly free-willed, and that they worshiped their ancestors, instead of a proper Pantheon. However, that might explain why the Clans had avoided annexation by the larger nations for all this time. They didn't rely on the other nations' gods and goddesses, so they didn't have a crisis of faith. Each clan had an animal for its symbol; however, these clans viewed communalism over individualism, thus, family names were useless to them. What had this girl done to have come all this way, alone?

Kallain bowed to his mother, Drevala, and Alexandria, each in turn, before he turned to leave. "I'm sorry I can't stay any longer, Mother, Drevala. I must leave to take care of the Turnips."

Almost immediately after he said this, Alexandria started to laugh. "You... have to take care of the root veggies? But you're the crown prince! Don't you have a gardener for that?"

Kallain raised his eyebrow, and said, "The Turnips are a group of bloodthirsty bandits, miss Alexandria. I don't think that they're a laughing matter." His know-it-all tone set Drevala off laughing, as she had figured out what had happened in the Great Hall, in Kal's first Court. Grumbling, Kallain headed to the armory, where his personal guard and some of the damn finest soldiers in the realm were gathering.

"And so then, finally, I looked over at Serell, and he just looked up at me from the desk, and he said, 'Oh, you mean the blue cup? I had it the entire time!'

Awash the roaring laughter of the other men, Kal rocked back on the boulder he had been using as a stump, smiling.
They were camping out for the night by the side of the road. Kal had reasoned that a group of such well armed men would certainly draw the attention of any Turnip bandit who was in the same inn as they were. So instead, they were camping out on the road.
In truth, this was a flimsy excuse for Kal, as he just enjoyed sleeping outdoors. None of the men minded it either, they were able to get rowdier around the cheerful campfire than they would in an inn.

Filled with good cheer, Reindolous began another story, one that Kal had heard before. As the old knight fell into his rhythms of the story, Kal thought about what had happened earlier in the day.

After excusing himself from the women's company, Kal sent runners out to collect the soldiers that he would need on the raid.
Ultimately, the toss-up was between having enough men to handle any threat, and being small enough to avoid drawing attention.
Kal tried to find a middle ground between the two needs. Taking 12 men, excluding himself and Reindolous, Kal sought to have a large enough force to be able to resist most bandit parties, yet small enough to travel somewhat incognito.
Kal also knew that now would be the time to begin building rapport with this generation of soldiers, when they would both be serving side by side to get rid of an obvious threat. Of course, going in only with fresh recruits would be a bad idea, so he was taking four veterans with him. These grizzled men had seen countless battles go by, and would be able to provide the order and backbone he needed to keep the rookies in line.

After selecting the men he needed, Kal also called in Tamlyn, who was grateful to see such immediate action being taken about the threat to his community. Kal peppered Tamlyn for information about the region, learning on the map where the bandits would most likely be hiding. Kal then offered to escort Tamlyn back to his village, in exchange that he show Kal where the Turnips were camping out. The farmer agreed.

A good portion of the day had been spent in preparations, having horses saddled for the trip, making sure enough blankets and coats and swords and money and the countless other things a raiding party needed when going on an expedition. Serell assisted Kal, and Kal was reminded why Serell held his position. The man was a genius when it came to logistics, solving problems before Kal could even think of them. Serell declined joining Kal on the expedition, saying that he never liked Turnip soup anyways.

When they did finally set out, it was already midday, and they had to stop far earlier than Reindolous would have liked.
They were now a half days ride away from Helcomb.

Kal settled back against the boulder, smiling as one of the veterans pulled out a wine bladder.

Kal wasn't sure what would happen tomorrow. But he was happy with tonight.

When Kal was awakened the next morning by Reindolous the sun had yet to rise over the edge of the horizon. Seeing that none of the other men had been woken up he gave the grizzled old knight a questioning look.

"The men won't wake for another hour. They need their sleep if they're to be ready for today."

Kal gave a lazy grin "And we don't?"

To Kal's surprise, Reindolous didn't return the grin, but rather returned with a stern, appraising look.

"Those in command rarely have such luxuries"

From his earliest childhood he had rarely seen Reindolous not smiling. The man had always been quick to laugh and share a bawdy joke whenever the Queen wasn't around. Seeing him now, Kal could almost believe he was looking at a totally different man. There was a tension to his stance that put Kal in mind of a hunting cat, and the dim light shadowed the angles of his face, making him look gaunt and serious. The over all impression was that of a blade, one which despite having seen years of use and more than a bit of blood, had not lost a bit of it's sharpness.

"Kallain, we're most likely going to be seeing battle today. Do you know what that means?"

""Of course, We're going to show these scraggly bandits why it's a poor idea to target villages under our protection. So we'll show them a bit of steel and send them running for the hil-"

"Wrong. It means that the moment after you pull that sword from it's sheath you're accepting the fact that you might have to kill someone before you put it back"

"Come now, Reindolous, I hardly think that-

"I wasn't finished. Kill or be killed, that's the lot of any simple soldier, but you are more than that. You see all the men sleeping here? You are their leader, their commanding officer, their Prince. They look to you for guidance and it's up to you to provide it. I know that you've been trained well, and I'll be doing every thing I can to assist you, but when it comes down to it your are responsible not only for your own skin, but for the lives of everyone in this unit, and eventually, everyone in this Kingdom. Do you understand?"

As Reindolous had spoken the smile had gone from Kal's face. He'd listened to the older Knight's words and had effected him greatly. This was to be his first test as a commander. He had trained many hours and was reckoned by many who'd seen him to be a great warrior in the making, but he'd never killed a man, and certainly never been responsible for keeping others alive. Would he be able to handle this responsibility?

Kal looked up at Reindolous "I understand."

A fierce grin appeared on Reindolous's face. "I'm sure you'll do your father proud. Now let's go show those poor Turnip Bastards why you don't mess with the Royal Army."

A fierce grin appeared on Reindolous's face. "I'm sure you'll do your father proud. Now let's go show those poor Turnip Bastards why you don't mess with the Royal Army."

Kal grinned as well, not anticipating the inevitable fight, but rather, enjoying the company of his oldest friend. As they helped each other put on their armor, the others began to wake, putting on their leather vests under chainmail haubergeons, gauntlets, steel-toed boots, and the like. Their helmets were conical helms, with a metal strip down the bridge of their noses, and their shields were painted the traditional blue-and-white four-spaced checker of the throne of Zersal.

Clearing his throat, Kal held his visored steel helmet in the crook of his arm, and began to speak. "Listen men. I was going to say something inspiring and blood-boiling to get you roused up. However, Reindolous brought me back to reality. This isn't going to be like any of the games we played as kids. People will die." At this, the non-veteran soldiers fidgeted uncomfortably. At least, until he continued speaking. "However, it's my job to make sure it's all of those Turnip Bastards' that are doing the dying today! Men, let's move out!"

The newer soldiers cheered, and the older soldiers nodded approvingly at both him, and thankfully at Reindolous. He had made sure that, while he knew the risks, he wouldn't charge ahead blindly, and risk all of their lives. Well, it was his job.

Getting into marching order, the soldiers, clad in clinking steel, and two riding their war-horses, rode into the outskirts of the village, ready for anything.

Getting into marching order, the soldiers, clad in clinking steel, and two riding their war-horses, rode into the outskirts of the village, ready for anything. Kal had this peculiar feeling in his gut as he traveled onward; it was both one of novelty and a sudden apprehension. The novelty arose from the simple act of doing what he was doing; marching in order with soldiers- him as their commander, at that!

The apprehension arose but a short march into their journey, but rather than halt to voice his sudden change in plans immediately he allowed a quarter's day march to place them nearer the village of Helcomb. It was here that Kallain, raising a hand, called the formation to a halt.

"Reinoldus, consult with me a moment." the young prince quipped as he cast a swift glance around to the other men- who seemed somewhat perplexed as to why they stopped, but the green soldiers relaxed..at least, until the grizzled soldiers put them back on their toes with a bark. The gruff old knight that is Reinoldus nodded once, sharply, and his grim air was once more present. Kallain gestured for Reinoldus to follow him and began to walk away from the small group of soldiers- only to halt with one foot off the edge of the path.

"...These are bandits, not some organized force." the prince said quietly, and only Reinoldus directly behind him to hear him. The old knight's grim stoicism shifted into a grin as he realized what Kallain had been about to ask him.

"Aye, I see you're putting that education to use now."-- the older knight's laughter was a reassuring gesture to Kallain, but to the other men it was quizzical at best due to their unfamiliarity with the duo. Kal shook his head once, then turned back to address the soldiers.

When he planted his feet to begin speaking, a small shift came over him- where before it was clear that he was as green as the fresh recruits, he now carried the air of a prince proper; commanding, confident, cool. Even if for just a moment, the hard analytical gaze of a tactician fluttered across his features.

Inside Kal's head, it was a stark contrast to his exterior. That flicker of analysis on his face was a reflection of the anxiety coursing through his skull and spine, making him feel as if the hair on his arms was standing on end. One thousand different scenarios played out in his head, but as he planted his feet to address the soldiers one seemed to stand out and scream at him at the top of its lungs for attention. And so, Kal took in a short breath and began to speak...

"These are bandits, not an organized military. I don't want to work off of assumptions however, so do not assume for an instant that you will be walking through fields of bandits reaping them as if harvesting wheat with a scythe. The image may be amusing, and I agree with you that the idea of someone using a scythe as a weapon is comical, but I digress. Rather than march headlong into the village and expose ourselves, let us instead expend ourselves efficiently. We are fourteen, and from Tamlyn's explanations the bandits number close to thirty. That's a little over double our number." As he spoke, the fresh soldiers seemed, in part, unnerved and, in part, reaffirmed in their reality. "Also noteworthy is Tamlyn's description of their namesake... Kal hesitated here for a moment as if trying to find the right words.

"While a majority of them are simply bandits, Tamlyn says that a few of them, including the one known as 'The Turnip' himself, seem to be capable of springing from the earth in ambush. At first I queried magic, but as we have travelled and spoken to each other I have spent serious thought on the issue and I think I have come across an answer for that." and with that a sly grin appeared on Kallain's face.

"How does a smaller force overcome a larger? Either through skill or clever thinking. I'd rather not risk lives with the assumption we're better trained, so let's simply out-maneuver and out-think these bandits. Gentlemen--" addressing them as 'gentlemen' warranted a low, snorting laugh from the grizzled soldiers and a nervous chuckle from the fresh. "Let's dig a few holes of our own. They are notorious ambushers? Well, let's turn the tables."

---

---
After the conclusion of the holes' construction, it'd be well into the evening and sunset.

"Reinoldus. I don't know who else I can trust with this next part of the plan." Kal began hesitantly, looking to the old knight.

"You mean 'risk', highness." Reinoldus' grin was fierce and full of life- the old knight was back at doing what he had done his whole life, and it was an envigorating nostalgia. "Not 'trust'."...Kallain couldn't resist a smirk, then a sigh of anxiousness.

"We have an ambush, but we're likely walking into an ambush ourselves. I have no doubt that the bandits will have scouts in the forest in the immediate area around the village, but we need a good chunk of them drawn here...-" Reinoldus gave a sharp nod and cut him off.

"I'll take three others with me, say we're a policing force from the crown who came t' check on a farmer's plea. That'll get the bandits riled up enough to try and kill us before we report back- and if it doesn't, I'll..." the knight hesitated, his grin slipping somewhat. "Just make sure your damned ambush works."

Kal nodded grimly, looking at the knight solidly before reaching out and clasping an arm with him. As much as they had a gap between them, they were friends, and this was the first danger they faced together.

Kal regrouped with the eleven Reinoldus didn't take as the old knight set off for the village in the evening. If this plan went right, Reinoldus would have considerable opposition in the morning right around where Kal's ambush was set up...

"Your first opportunity at commanding troops and you put your stake in an ambush... Let's hope it works out..." was the comment that raised through Kal's head, until ultimately the words Hope it works out... were the only ones left.

"Your first opportunity at commanding troops and you put your stake in an ambush... Let's hope it works out..." was the comment that raised through Kal's head, until ultimately the words Hope it works out... were the only ones left.

Kal mulled over this dark thought for a moment, and then put the finishing touches on his plan. First he had a soldier take the two horses away from his chosen battleground. They would be useless in the uneven forrest and could give away their position. Then he made sure everyone was certain of their role. Finally he moved and the others moved into their holes and waited.

Kallain was unsure how long he they stayed listening to the tense quiet of the forrest examining his blade for any flaws. To him it felt like a lifetime of anxious anticipation. But in reality it probably only lasted an hour give or take, when he heard the sound of metal boots and yells of rage coming down the road.

From his vantage Kal could see Reinoldus supporting one of his men wounded with an arrow to the shoulder, as he and the other turned hard into the woods into the carefully planned ambush. Then he saw to his estimate 18 men in hot pursuit in patchwork leather armor, with the montly emblem of a turnip on the shoulder, follow the knight and his two men.

The next few moments Kallain would count in the time between each breath. One the first of the turnips reached the first hole. Two he was mere steps away from from Kal's earthy dugout the center most hole, as their commander Kal thought it just that he be in the center of the conflict. Three the forerunner has made it to the edge of the trap, the rest are fairly dispersed through it, Reinoldus and the other man stop, the agreed upon signal. Four Kallain grips the handle of his sword more tightly and leaps from his hole, he hears six others do the same (the last four are to wait until more bandits show up before joining the battle). Five Kal sees the first man he will have ever killed. He has yet to even register that their own tactics are being used against them, his eyes are still on the knight who is now resting the wounded man against a tree and draw his sword. This is the last sight he will ever see as Kallain buries his sword deep into his neck.

Kal is conscious of a sickening wet squelch as he pulls the blade out and scans the battle for his next opponent. He sees most of his men have managed to slay a foe before the survivors began to put up any resistance. Reinoldus bellowing his warcry charged the men he only moments before had been retreating from. He had to make up for lost time now didn't he? Kallain sees his next foe, a giant of a man wielding a lumber axe as tall as Kal himself. He made up the rear of the horde and if left unengaged would put that axe of his to good use. Kallain charged him hoping to catch him unaware and end him quickly. The young prince ended his run with a sweeping cut of his blade aimed at the bandit's impressive gut.

Unfortunately the man was much quicker on his feet then Kal expected and leaped away from the sword now staring down his opponent. Kal now left exposed by his daring move attempted to move into one of the stances drilled into him by Reinoldus, but before he could get his weight squared the bandit with a heavy step hurled his thick forehead directly into Kallain's own sending the world spinning and the prince to the ground.

Kallain would have died with an axe buried in his head if the the uninjured soldier who had accompanied Reinoldus to the village didn't let loose an arrow into the brutes tricep. While his assailant started cursing the gods Kal took a rather unnoble action and from the ground kicked the bandits ankle hard enough to send him to one knee. Kallain still realing in pain got to his feet and shoulder charged his enemy into one of the holes his men had used for ambush. With a bellow the man fell into it banging his head on the way down. He wasn't dead but with his injuries it was very unlikely he would be crawling out to rejoin the fight.

The young commander turned his attention back to the skirmish and saw with satisfaction that few turnips now remained. Then he heard from the woods a sound very similar to the one his men had made leaping from their holes as six more combatants were sprinting towards the scene. Luckily they had prepared for just such an event and the last four of his men including Tamlyn exited a short distance of and moved to intercept them.

Kallain grinned as he saw the panicked expression on the remaining bandits faces, they were swiftly being overrun and their final ace in the hole had failed them. The young prince was scanning the battle looking for the best place to lend his sword, when he noticed one of the enemy break away and began running down the road, towards the town and the rest of the Turnip forces. Kal was about to rush the man when he felt a meaty grip around his armored ankle.

The bandit he had shoved into the hole was not completely out of the conflict it seemed. With the wound in his arm he was unable to easily pull himself out, yet he could hold the prince there for a short time. Kallain couldn't effectively turn himself so that he could slice at his annoying foe, and while he struggled embarrassingly against him he prayed to Spaldi that none of the men were watching. Finally Kallain managed to free his foot and in anger crushed the bandit's grasping hand with his plate boot. And with a swift kick to the head his large adversary slumped unconscious.

The battle was wrapping up and Tamlyn approached Kallain. "Sire it would appear we have some prisoners, the men are wondering what shall become of them?" He said wearily. Kallain looked at them. A man whose leg had been severed during the fight, a uninjured man around Kallain's own age, his his own prisoner unconscious in the hole, and most disturbingly a boy no older then 10 at best.

"Sire it would appear we have some prisoners, the men are wondering what shall become of them?"

Studying the slumped over Turnips, Kal considered his options silently. It was clear that the neighboring villages didn't care much for the turnips, and it was likely that if he gave a harsh verdict, many of the villagers would support him in his actions.... But did he really want to become known as a killer of men? Certainly, they were bandits, and most vile ones at that.. Being lenient with his verdict might be even worse..

But maybe there was a third option?

Kal was just damned to think of what it was at this moment.

"Sire?"

Kal realized that he had begun to lean forwards slowly as he had thought, until he was almost on top of the bandits.

Straightening up, Kal coughed nervously, wiped his sweaty brow, and looked back at Reindolous.

As he looked at the concerned knight, the answer seemed to materialize from the very air in front of him.

Confident now in his decision, Kal opened his mouth and responded to small cluster of soldiers that had formed around him.

Confidant now in his decision, Kal opened up his mouth and responded to the small cluster of soldiers that had formed around him.

"Have we identified their leader?" He asked to the nearest one.

"Yes Sire, we think so." The soldier gestured to one of the bodies lying on the ground.

It was a cruel looking man in his mid thirties, marginally better dressed then the rest of the motley group. He wore a long brown cloak with a turnip roughly painted on the back. Though the most noticeable thing about him now was the arrow sticking out of his throat. He'd been one of the first casualties of the battle, hardly having any time to rally his men before a lucky or exceedingly skilled shot silenced him for good.

Kal was actually pleased with this. It wasn't that he took joy in killing, but even if they had captured the leader alive he'd have been summarily executed. Most likely strung up in a public place, as a gristly warning to other would-be bandits. The man's death here and now saved both time and effort.

There was still the matter of what to do with the rest of them though. More had surrendered than Kal had expected. He'd thought that they would fight to the death, but after seeing their leader downed so quickly and after those that had tried to flee the battle had been cut down by arrows in the back, a few of the more intelligent ones had thrown down their weapons, and the majority of the band had followed suit soon after.
All in all there were probably about 15 kneeling on the ground, with a few others injured.

Kal addressed the prisoners: "Who was the second in command?"

"That would be me."

The voice came from behind. Startled, Kal turned quickly to see the huge man he had fought. Evidently he'd been forgotten in the hole, or thought dead when they were securing the rest of the men. Reindolous acted swiftly and had his blade out and at the man's throat before Kal had scarcely had time to blink. He hardly needed have bothered though. Large as the man was, he wasn't much of a threat now, disarmed and leaning heavily on one leg to put his weight off his injured ankle, He'd evidently removed the arrow already, as it was gone and his arm was roughly bandaged.

"Would you like me to dispatch him Sire?" Reindolous asked.

"No, not yet. I have a few questions to ask him."

Kal looked the bandit in the eyes and asked "Is this all of your men?"

"Nearly. There are a few more at our camp with the woman and children but most are here." Kal was taken aback by the man's honest answer.

"Woman and Children?" He asked.

"Yes, but they had no part in this."

"Are they your captives?"

The man almost cracked a pained grin at the question. "Some might say the opposite actually."

"Speak more clearly, cur." Reindolous interjected. "Lest my blade slip."

"They're our wives. Our children. "We- he gestured at the rest of the captive bandits -Weren't always in such a sorry state. Most of us come from what used to be a logging village not so far from here." "A few years ago a blight struck the trees. Rotted them from the inside out. Trade dried up, and we couldn't afford to buy crops or seed like we always had. We were starving. Then came along Hob and his men.

"Hob?"

The man pointed at the corpse of the Leader and spat. "Him. He was a known criminal in our area, robbed caravans and the like. We never had any truck with him or his ilk before... but seeing your children go hungry will do strange things to a man. He said there was good money to be had and that we we'rent in any position to refuse. Every few weeks he'd come and ask for men to help with his "little jobs". Those that did came back with food for their families. It wasn't long before nearly all of us were doing it."

"I won't ask for forgiveness or leniency for and neither will any of the others, we all knew what we were doing and what would happen if we were caught. But I will ask, please Sire, don't hold our wives or children accountable for our crimes."

The man hung his head and was silent.

"What is your name?"

The Man looked up. "What?"

"Your name. I would know the name of a man before I pass judgement on him."

"Balt, it's Balt Arbor."

"Reindolous, put Balt here with the others, then send a scout out to fetch Tamlyn. I have an idea of what to do with these Turnips."
------

The next day Kal had marched his soldiers and the prisoners to Tamlyn's Village. He'd spent most of the previous evening speaking to Tamlyn(Son of George) about what he planned to do with the remaining bandits. At first the village Headman had looked at Kal like he was insane, but as Kal further explained his plan and reasoning, Tamlyn(Son of George) began nodding and eventually agreed.

Now he stood in front of a crowd of villagers with the Bandits before him. They were all tied by the hands and linked together. He addressed both when he began to speak.

"I have come to a decision. Know that I, Prince Kallain Windral, make this ruling in place of my father, the King. It is by this Authority that I hereby sentence all remaining members of the Turnip Bandits to Community Service.

A shocked look fell over the crowd, with the exception of Tamlyn(Son of George) who already knew what the outcome of Kal's ruling would be.

"All former members of the Turnip Bandits shall be forced to labor for the sake of this village, building houses, tilling land, and yes, harvesting Turnips, until such a time as it is deemed they have fulfilled their debt to the Kingdom. If they refuse to work, or attempt to escape, they will be executed. They will dwell in houses built by their own hands, and they, and their families will be fed by their own labors.Additionally they will build a garrison to house soldiers that that will be posted here to protect from future bandit incursions."

After his announcement on the fate of the Turnip bandits he and his men had gotten to work. First Reinoldus and a few of the more senior soldiers taught the village men some basics in combat. They were by no means a serious force but they could protect themselves until a garrison could be sent from the capital. The village townhouse was appropriated so that the injured could be treated, thankfully there were few in need of such aid. Those lucky enough to come out of the battle unscathed had the "privilege" to do the real work.

The bandits were made to do the serious labor Kallain felt it right that he helped the people of Helcomb start to rebuild their lives. So under the instruction of George (Father of Tamlyn) prince Kallain learned how to measure and cut wood, mend fences, and five new curse words when the man 14 years Reinoldus's senior learned that a bandit had broken his wheelbarrow. By mid day Kallain was drenched in sweat.

Returning to the village for lunch he saw Reinoldus checking his blade while he ate. The Prince grabbed some bread and joined him. The pair talked of small things for a time when they heard a small piping voice calling from down the road, Ho! Look!Look! Peoples! Big peoples with shinnys trade peoples please trade with us!" Yelb merchants. Kal counted 8 of them the largest of them barely reaching his chest while the smallest, a child by his gums, was a little under 3 feet. Each one of them were heavily laden with bags, sacks, and packs. Accompanying the group were 2 tourtis the size of cattle and covered with saddled bags.

Reinoldus smiled he had once told Kallain that his grandfather thought the Yelb were a good omen, and whether you new it or not they always had something in their packs or pockets that you wanted. The village then stopped their busy actions and soon the sound of haggling was in the air. The Yelb were glad for a chance to show off their prized possessions and with the eagerness of children began chatting excitedly to there hostes.

The Yelb carried many rare and useful things. Rich chocolate, Foreign spices, Rhodux wines, bolts of silken cloth, smooth Beachwood, ivory from the coast, Elvish poetry (they couldn't even read the language of man but thought the leaves they were written on was pretty), maps to lands Kal couldn't even pronnounce, and ingots of dwarven steel. However being the very opinionated Yelb they also carried things only the owner found interesting. Empty glass bottles, a jar of sand, a bent piece of tin, sticks and leaves, dried dandelions, a potato larger than its owner, robin eggshells, owl pellets, and of course pebbles of all shapes and sizes.

Kallain watched with amusement when two of the merchants, one of whom was the child, approached him. "We lead these Yelb!" The older creature said proudly. The younger one, by Kal's guess a female, continued, The people with the white hair and shiny sword told us that your in charge of the other peoples! And we wanted to show you our prettiest stuff!.

Not waiting for a response the older one started pointing at his clothes, "This yellow scarf on my head, and my nice blue shirt is the best I own making me a leader!" The girl then tugging on Kallain's hand like an impatient toddler began pulling the prince towards one of their pack animals. "Hurry you need to see people boss come on!" "Now see here... hold on... hay!". In all his training as a youth on the courts of the world he was never trained to deal with the Yelb, he now saw why. To understand them you must understand a kid who is still amazed with the wonders of the world. Sleeping inside a recess in the turtles shell was what appeared to be the mixture between a bat and a possum. "Watch this. Kals escorts said in eager whispers. The girl began clicking her tongue softly until the creature turned in its sleep and let out a yawn, but from its throat came a high a beautiful note of music. "You should hear her when she awake! She is the best thing Viv owns and we couldn't decide what was better the song bat or my pretty scarf, so we're both in charge!" Said the older of the two.

Now we need to show you the most amazing thing we all own! The two pulled down a chest and opened the lid for Kallain to see.

"Now we need to show you the most amazing thing we all own!"

Pulling open the chest lid, the older one stepped in front of the chest as she moved to take the item from the container, obscuring Kal's view of it.

"We found it abandoned in a really big stone house! It's really amazing! You must see!"

The younger Yelb began to pull on Kal's arm, indicating for him to kneel upon the dusty ground before the chest and the older Yelb, whose back was still turned as she was hunched over the item.

Shooting a weary look to one of the farmers who was watching on in wry amusement, Kal conceded to the incessant youth, who let out a chattering squeal of what was apparently glee.

"Close you eyes and hold out your hands!"

"Why?"

"You have to feel how amazing it is before you can see it, silly!"

"How obvious, my bad."

This remark drew a chuckle from the farmer, who was enjoying the sight of his lord and master kneeling on the ground eyes closed with his hands out before two Yelb.

After a slight swat from the bossy younger Yelb, Kal finally relented, and closed his eyes, and extended his hands.

In the darkness of his closed eyes, Kal shifted back so that he sat more comfortably on his haunches, and tilted his head listening for the Yelb.

The sound of fast breathing, and the sense of someone standing directly over him. Finally, two small hands lowered themselves into one of his, clutching at something.

Then the two hands let go, and something the size of a small cup rested in his hand. It was square and blocky, though intricately carved. It felt like it was either bone or wood, as he could feel a grain to it. His palms began to sweat, and tremble slightly; though once he noticed that he was, he was able to make himself stop. There was a hole in the middle of it that he was able to fit his pinky through, though he didn't because he was afraid he would be unable to take it out without breaking it.

"Open your eyes now!"

Blinking slightly, Kal looked down at his hands, and gasped when he saw what he held. A statuette, with carved lines running and twisting across it. It was a faded yellow white; either an exotic wood or an ancient bone. The statuette was uniform across, taller than it was wide, with all of the twisting lines leading into the hole and out the other side.

The more Kal stared at the statuette, the more the carvings seemed to shift and dance. Struggling to keep his focus, Kal found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the statuette, and his hands began to shake more violently.

Suddenly, the geodesic patterns laid upon the statuette lifted themselves away from the object, and overlaid themselves onto Kal's vision, spinning wildly as black spots began to dance across his gaze.

With foam beginning to speckle his lips, the statuette dropped heavily from his grasp, as Kal slumped to the ground, convulsing violently and losing grasp of awareness.

The last thing he could remember before the black was the two Yelb crying out for help as they knelt before him, shaking him and trying to keep him from hurting himself.

"That damnable child..."

A voice, thick and strong.

"...Wrong place, wrong time..."

Not unsimilar to that of an old man's.

"Maybe we can salvage this..."

A young girl's?-- No, a young boy...

"The whole damned thing's gone to hell!"

That was a woman- had to be...

"Calm yourself, all is not lost- merely redirected. We must take time to think about this. Weight the odds...rewrite the Fate."

The young boy- or was it a girl? Kal couldn't tell- again. What was all this- why could he hear it? Kal wondered where he was, why he was feeling this. The more the voices spoke the more clear the blackness around him became.

"It would seem Kallain Windral is our new Hero."

At last, the chorus of unfamiliar voices stopped echoing in his mind, and before Kal- or, at least, what he perceived to be before him- was a solid oak wood door. He walked towards it- but he didn't walk, for he had no body in the blackness. He just perceived himself as walking. He drew closer and closer to the door- or what felt like nearness to the door, or really what he perceived as a door- and found the deadened silence to weight heavier on him than the chorus. The Chorus- that was what Kal decided to call them. The Chorus. It was an apt name he felt, but at the same time felt as if was provided to him by the blackness he experienced. The Chorus- the words seemed to spring up from the back of his mind as he neared the door.

And as he neared the door, he felt himself reaching out towards it. He did not even come near to touching its handle when a voice crashed into his mind like a hurricane and smashed any semblance of rational thought and comprehension he had into nothingness.

"Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!" Reinoldus' voice was simultaneously a hammer to the chisel that had split his skull and a wash of fresh air into his thoughts. It was something familiar in this foreign black place, thus he clung to it- gripped it with all his might and pulled on Reinoldus with his mind. He pulled and pulled and pulled, as if wresting a great fish from the ocean, and soon found the blackness receding and a great pain filling him- along with a distinct feeling of restraint. The blackness of his mind was soon filled with a painful brightness- color and substance returning to him...and the door fading away from his sight.

He coughed and sputtered, wheezing heavily as his body's thrashing soon slowed....then stopped. He blinked his eyes open and realized he had never opened them until now, and that sensation chilled him more than the pain he had felt just moments ago. He blinked until his vision was clear, and what he saw was a strange sight; Reinoldus had Kal pinned, the knight bracing Kal's body against the ground as two incredibly terrified Yelb's stood nearby- and a decent crowd was forming to worry over the Prince. When Kal tried to move his jaw to speak, he found he couldn't due to the high contents of foam and saliva in his mouth- but that was hardly an issue as Reinoldus' hand slapped him silly and made him expunge the contents of his mouth across the ground as he coughed and found that the blow returned life to his mouth and lungs.

"What just-" he managed to sputter out inbetween his coughing fits, his spasms gone now- Reinoldus thus releasing him. He brought his hands to his face to wipe at it, and found that the statuette was back in his hand- but this time it felt familiar, as if it belonged there, as if he needed it or else something terrible would happen. This was a conflicted feeling for the young prince, who had just experienced a horrendous affair at the behest of the statuette, but now he suddenly felt inclined to hold onto it...

"Get that damned thing away from him!" Reinoldus barked, pulling Kal up to a sitting position to make sure he could breathe. He went to grab at the statuette- and Kal flinched, pulling it away from his friend who looked at Kal incredulously.

"...Reinoldus just trust me on this, I can't explain it, but I need to hold onto this."

"Get that damned thing away from him!"

Kal's head swum violently, and he struggled to keep the contents of his stomach under control.

Sensing more than seeing Reindolous reach for the statuette, a sense of desperate panic flooded the young prince as he grasped it and pulled it away from his friend.
"..Reindolous, just trust me on this, I can't explain it, but I need to hold onto this."

The old knight paused, scrutinizing Kal's eyes with his own, searching for some hint of reasoning behind Kal's words.

Kal would have liked to know what he found, Kal was struggling to come up with a good reason to keep the statuette himself.

Glancing about him, eyes slit to guard against the painful light, Kal saw that he had just fallen to the ground where he had been standing. Reindolous was kneeling next to him, and his soldiers had formed into a protective ring around them both, weapons drawn, though against who they would be used, Kal couldn't say.

The two Yelb stood a few paces back, nervously standing on tiptoes to peer past the guards at Kal.

"Is he okay again?" The younger of the two whispered audibly to her older companion.

"I hope so. I liked the prince!" The other replied in an equally loud stage whisper.

Kal dropped his head back between his legs. He felt like shit. His hangover from his birthday last week had been easier than this.

"For all that is good and holy, Kal! You could have been killed! Whatever happened to you?" Reindolus's tone was in one that brooked answer.

"For all that is good and holy, Kal! You could have been killed! Whatever happened to you?"

Reindlous stood looking over Kal with a worried expression. As far as he could tell what had happened, those infernal Yelb had passed something to Kal and he's ended up on the ground convulsing. He'd feared they'ed somehow poisoned him, or worse, used some treacherous sorcery. Reindolous had a very strong dislike of magic. He knew it had it's uses, but he'd seen scrawny mages roast men three times their size in their full plate armor, and didn't trust anything that could give a man that kind of power.

Now though, Kal seemed to be snapping out of whatever had caused the state he'd been in. But he still refused to let go of whatever the Yelb had given him.

"I"m not dead yet Reindolous. Though at the moment I halfway wish that was the case, my head hurts so damn much." Kal said. As I said, I don't know what this is", said Kal, holding up the statuette for Reindolous to see. "But when I touched it just a minute ago I...I Saw something. Or, I guess felt would be a better word. I'm still not sure what it was, but I can't shake the feeling that it's somehow important.

Kal looked over at the Yelb, who were still standing in a huddle nearby, flanked by guards on all sides. Kal hopped up and motioned for the guards to step away and they did. Kal walked up to what he assumed was the leader, it was always a bit hard to tell when it came to the Yelb.

He held up the statuette. "What IS this thing, and why did you feel compelled to give it to me? He asked.

The Yelb, for his part looked thoughtful for a moment and then shrugged. "We have NO idea what it is. We found it in a ruin many moons ago. It...Called to us. We've carried it since then. And when we stopped close to here, we just felt like it needed to go to you. That's it."

Kal scratched his chin for a moment. It seemed like the Yelb was telling the truth. You heard stories about them. That they always seemed to know things that other people didn't, and when pressed as to how they actually obtained that knowledge, they'd just shrug and say that they didn't know.

It made some people nervous, like the soldiers right now. They'd just seen their Prince writhing around on the ground and as far as they could tell, it was the Yelb to blame for it. The Yelb themselves seemed not to notice the glares they were getting from all sides. What Kal said next would be very important in dictating what happened to them.