She stretched, her back cricking several times as she pushed her chest out and brought her arms up behind her back, arching slightly, sighing in relief as the cramps of the voyage worked themselves out of her spine. She had never enjoyed sea travel. The sea, yes. Travelling on it, not so much. Something about not being in control of her own motion rebelled against her intense need to rule her surroundings wherever possible.
Around her bustled the Grim Company, unloading crates, horses, weapons, food and more from the dozens of bluff bowed, square sailed Seikastsu trade ships that had carried them across the sea. The water that lapped at their wooden hulls and at the stone quays was a dirty brown, bits of wood, other garbage and even a few dead dogs bumped gently against the hulls. The Town they had reached was one of the larger in the Kingdom of Glarmion and, prosperous as it was, it would never truly be free of the foul smell that seemed to rise from all harbours.
She glanced around at the Townsfolk who had come to stare, kept at bay by polite but firm Samurai of the Bambu Company, all of them armed with some sort of polearm and their infamous longbow. Despite being of Formarothian descent, she had never actually been to the continent and the stone buildings, with their slate grey roof tiles, seemed ugly and blocky to her. Here at least however, there were women the mirrored her appearance. For nearly thirty years she had lived amongst the Seikastsu people and their women, and even their men, were notably shorter than she and more petite in size. The female companions she had made often voiced their amazement at her height, the size of her breasts, and the stunning colour of her hair.
Her eye was drawn to a man who was furiously arguing with two of the Bambu Samurai, his temper only increasing as they continued to politely, but firmly, refuse him entry to the quay. Rhaetia was keenly aware of how highly the Seikastsu regarded proper manners and knew that it would only take a few uncouth words for the Formarothian man to find himself facing Seikastsu steel. His dress suggested he was a high ranking man, in fact he even wore some Seikastsu silk suggested he was wealthy, probably the local lord. This idea was supported by the dozen men-at-arms who stood as his back looking uncertain of what to do. It was true they out numbered the two Bambu Samurai but the steady stream of heavily armed soldiers from the boats had grown from a few to hundreds, and more were arriving every moment. Rhaetia finally took pity on the man as he stamped his foot like a child and threw his hands up in the air.
She seemingly glided towards him across the cobblestone quay. Every step was precise, planned and executed as if she were dancing. Her lithe movement, height, and stunning looks soon drew the look of every man watching, save for her own. The tamper tantrum wielding lord did his best to look regal but like every other man there, he was awestruck by her appearance. None of the clumsy movements considered normal in Formaroth marred her body language. She moved as if she were in fluid motion, graceful in her gestures and deliberate in her words.
"My lord?" She made the words a question as she approached the nobleman. It was plain from the coat of arms that hung from a chain around his neck that he was a man of some rank. Rhaetias' speech was pleasant to the ear, gentle, convincing, polite, but her eyes. They said so much more. They betrayed the true fury of her soul, her ability to do great violence, and above all, her absolute command of the situation. They bore down on the man, taking in the strong shoulders, sturdy jaw, neatly sculpted moustache, full head of brown hair, and deep brown eyes that regarded with her with something between awe and, maybe, fear.
"The Lady Grim I presume." He stated after a moments silence, his own shrewd gaze studying her in return. What did he see? The woman before him was tall, taller even than him, with the corded arms of a soldier, strong chin, beautiful red hair, and eyes that seemed to never be still. This was the woman of whom he had heard so much and he found that he was not disappointed, in fact, he was impressed. Her every movement, every gesture, even the quick flick of a finger to calm her soldiers seemed practiced and poised. This woman was amazing.
"I am the Count Lanistark, Cousin to our King and I have come to welcome you to Glarmion." He was suddenly very aware of how she smelt. The scent was faint, as if she had bathed in it, and he found it very pleasant. Even her soldiers, he noticed, did not bear the hallmark reek of sweat he associated with his men-at-arms, and, indeed, even with his own family.
"I am instructed to provide you whatever aid I can in getting you and your men ashore. You are wanted within a fortnight to report to Lord Manshrew himself."
Rhaetia nodded and offered the man a small incline of her head. A single strand of red hair detached itself from behind her ear and fell to gently to brush her cheek. Perfect.
"My lord Lanistark, thank you for your gracious welcome. Though I am sure the women in my Company would be insulted you did not consider them in your welcome. I have selected a campsite for my soldiers for the evening. You will of course dine with us tonight. The food will be simple Seikastsu fare but I assure you, it is most palatable. Now, if you will excuse me, I have much to do. If you require my attentions, simply ask one of my soldiers to send for me." She did not smile, she never smiled, but it did not seem to matter as she turned left the Count speechless. Every man and woman who had laid eyes upon her and heard her voice was smiling.
"Now that is a woman..." Breathed the Count as he watched her go. He knew little about her, only that the Grim Company was the finest mercenary army in the world, or so many said. The Steel Fist might have more in common with the soldiers of Glarmion but not a man or woman amongst them could hold a candle to the beauty he had just witnessed. He turned himself, walking like a man in a daze towards his horse, realizing only belatedly that he had been intending to invite her to supper, not the other way around.
The activity on the docks only increased as the Count Lanistark, Cousin to the King of Glarmion, rode into the town. Some twenty minutes after he had left the first detachment of Grim Cavalry thundered through the cobbled streets to take possession of a high and broad hilltop not far from the Counts own castle. A fury of activity continued until almost dusk and the population watched in amazement as a small three story fortress sprang up, surrounded by a wall of hollow but intensely sharp wood called bamboo. The entire structure appeared to have been pre-packaged for just such an occasion. A second structure, a single story this time, was quickly assembled, revealing itself to be a bath house complete with four large copper tubs that could be filled with boiling water drawn from a nearby stream.
By night fall the entirety of the Grim Company was ashore settled into their camp. Rows of neat tents, each colour coded to their particular company, spread in ever increasing circles down from the fortress on the hill. Fires blazed before every fifth tent and pickets guarded the approaches so ruthlessly that several teenage boys, trying to get a view of the Lady Grim, were nearly shot as they attempted to slither through the high grass. They were rounded up and sent firmly on their way by unsmiling Samurai.
As darkness settled and the moon began to rise, bathing the whole scene in a brilliant silver light, a blue/black tiger banner broke out on the top of the small fort. The Grim Company had landed.
They say it rains twice in the forest, and Eclipse had known this to be true ever since the days of his childhood. With a welcome rush of pure, clean air, he felt the refreshing sprinkle of crystal clear droplets fall upon him from the wind-rustled leaves above. The storm had passed hours ago, and the light of the sun was once again filtering through the canopy above. As he rode over the trail below, Eclipse inhaled a deep breath that smelt of water and wood, taking it within himself to feed his spirit. He exhaled with a smile. The serenity of nature was joyous.
There was still plenty of daylight left and a good chance that he and his steed could dry out somewhat before they had to make camp for the night. He'd be at Legon Pass soon, if the gradual upward slope of the ground was any indication. Reaching it would provide the advantage of an easy shelter and a dry place for a fire, assuming anything was dry enough to burn by then. Even still, the peak of biting insect season had passed for the year, and the cooler temperatures brought on by a good rain would render them lethargic and few in number. A fire wasn't entirely necessary just yet.
With no one to hear him, Eclipse sighed heavily. He had insisted on traveling alone, so his lack of physical company was entirely his own fault. He had grown used to immersing himself in society, being surrounded by people, his people, and so this sudden silence stood out to him, making him acutely aware of the attention paid to him by the divine. Then he smiled, finding amusement in his own folly, and looked up somewhere above the trees. "Ah, but you are always with me." His voice was soft and reverent as he spoke personally to entities unseen and rededicated himself to his mission.
Legon Pass was a fantastic structure, a quarter mile of road cut through the mountain itself by Dwarven hands in ancient times. It allowed travelers to skip the treacherous elevations above at their worst points, making the journey into Ralda not only possible, but far more quick and efficient. There were several such Dwarven wonders in Thralreth, such as the ancient city of Valandar, who's gates even to this day, have never been opened by human kind. Eclipse had passed Valandar's giant doors upon entering Legon, seeing them on the side of a mountain-cliff high above him to the east, taunting him, as they did to all who glimpsed them from the path below. With the doors remaining impassable, one could only wonder at what treasures lay inside... Gold, jewels, art and artifacts, and Dwarven steel. Thralreth prided itself on having more of that precious metal and those who knew how to work it than any other realm. It was rare, and powerful indeed. Only the most noble houses 'might' have had any, and usually passed it on as a precious heirloom. Eclipse listened to the footfalls of his grey gelding and absentmindedly dropped his left hand posessively over his sword.
Eventually, the path widened, and the trees seemed to fall back where rocky earth took over in their wake. It was here that the reflective knight took pause before the oppressive portion of the ascent began. It was here, that Eclipse's memories still lived. His gaze drifted down to the west of the path where there was a wide clearing. Trees were already growing around the several mounds of rocks and headstones. Legon Pass had a centuries-long history of being contested, even before humans partook in the battles. His steed's nostrils flared as it huffed a few breaths, catching up. Eclipse dismounted and walked over to the area, parting brush with his legs. He came to a large stone, withered text etched deep over its surface, and stopped. "Sir Garwyn, Swordless Knight of Jykher..." The stone read. Eclipse knew this stone, as he knew the man that lay beneath.
"So dedicated you were to Othys and Jykher, brother Garwyn. You were my inspiration." Eclipse knelt and touched the stone, as if knowing so few would ever read it. "In a way, your life ended as my life began. Sisneas has you now. May you rest in peace with all-gods' blessings." A wind blew, making the leaves of he nearby trees rise in a clatter like the sound of a thousand tiny clapping hands. Having made his observance and given his prayer, Eclipse returned to his horse. The light of the lowering sun was turning orange, and he put his mind to getting through to Ralda. From there, he would turn East to Sypius Plains and Nyhem, where the weight of so much chaos awaited him.
The church of Thralreth had been privy to disturbing news from the old capitol. Grand Cleric Mildred was dead, innocent mages were being burned at the stake, and heretics were running rampant, accusing prominent clergy members of corruption and denouncing the church entirely. It was as if the forces of evil itself were sweeping across the land, infecting the people's hearts with malice and hysteria. Nothing had been right ever since the mysterious deaths of the Remonnet royals. Eclipse reflected on the recent past. Long ago, he had left his family and his country to fight under Andrew Manshrew. The man was noble of soul, if not of blood, and although it had been a long time, Eclipse knew him to be honorable and righteous. The fact that Manshrew stood up again now to resist the De Reimers meant something, and Eclipse felt compelled to investigate. Darkness reigned over the people of Formaroth, and only the light of the holy gods could clear their vision. Eclipse felt it was his duty to bring this light in any way he could. Through faith, hope, and mercy, as a Knight of Klebirthy, he would see it done.
Arrival to Akki Andreas up to this point had quite a calm and peaceful life. He had a loving family and a woman that he loved dearly he knew that after the war he would propose to her. But his mind wondered as he heard one of the crew members from up on deck shout “Land Ahoy!” Andreas quickly started to gather his belongings making sure to not leave anything behind. Once done he left his quarters. As he stepped up onto the deck he saw all the sailors attending to their tasks as the ship sailed closer to the city of Tortuga of the Kingdom of Akki. Andreas had never ventured outside of Andromeda before the war but since becoming one of Lord Andrew’s messengers he had been to several places in Formaroth, Akki was just an addition to his list. He looked at the city, it was a marvellous sight. Along the dock, he could see a prosperous market dealing in all sorts of trade. As the ship got closer Andreas could even hear the sound of drunken laughter from the numerous taverns that he could see. Then that’s when he saw it the castle that belonged to House Neptuna. The castle stood on top of the cliff looking out towards the sea and the city. The ship drew ever closer to the docks. Andreas knew that he had indeed an important task before him, he knew that he was to become a bridge for two families, it was all up to him to offer this bridge to House Neptuna.
The ship docked upon the harbour of Tortuga. As Andreas stepped onto the harbour he saw liveness of the people of Tortuga. It reminded him of Andromeda, it reminded him of home. Then suddenly Andreas noticed a soldier from House Neptuna approaching him, he noticed this due to the crest of the turtle on a blue shield. As the soldier got closer he said “You! Are you one of Lord Manshrew’s messengers?”
Andreas calmly replied “Yes I am.”
Once this was said the soldier looked at him. Andreas was not sure if the soldier believed him or not but eventually the soldier said “Lady Freya has sent me to escort you to the castle, we must be swift. She is not the type to be kept waiting.”
Andreas replied “Then lead on.” The soldier nodded and the two of them quickly paced towards the castle.
The Negotiations The soldier and Andreas who quickly followed entered the royal court room. It was there in which Andreas saw his generous hosts. Sitting on the throne was Lady Freya Neptune, Andreas knew that despite her age Lady Freya had much experience when it comes to being a ruler. Standing next to her was her son Robert who was indeed young but held himself in such a way that you would mistake him as a Lord. Then standing on the right side of Lady Freya was Captain Nicol her advisor, his age bared him great knowledge and Lady Freya confided in him greatly. To the left was Commander Elduin her elven commander, it in all his travels Andreas had barely seen any elves and it was a challenge to determine the age of any of them. Either way Andreas knew that Lady Freya’s army was ferocious and that Elduin was the spearhead of this army.
The soldier and Andreas stopped, both bowed to show respect. As they both raise their heads. The soldier left Andreas’ side to join with the others near the throne. Freya who remained seated in her throne said “So messenger what brings you all the way from Telmarion to my humble Kingdom?”
Andreas who composed himself replied “My Lady I have come to convey Lord Andrew’s message and he would like me to tell you that he apologises that he himself could not be present as concerns in Telmarion require his needs there.”
“That is quite alright. We understand that Lord Manshrew is preparing a second strike against the Imperial Concord.” said Freya.
Andreas replied “He is my Lady. That is why he has sent me to offer to House Neptuna a hand to join the Manshrew Alliance. Lord Mansrew offers any land of choice that the Alliance gains in war if you join us.”
Robert stepped forward saying “I have heard of your Lord’s heroic deeds in battle. Like how he slayed the mad kind Heylot in battle which ended the civil war and how he has recently struck a blow against the Concord.” He turned to Freya “Mother, I believe an alliance with House Manshrew will help us greatly. If we help them in their fight against the Concord then I am sure that they will help us.”
“Silence.” said Freya as she raised her hand. Robert returned to his mother’s side. “I understand your enthusiasm Robert but I am unsure of what House Manshrew will do to help us and I am reluctant to join this war. I am quite content with what I have here in Akki.”
“Your Lady, if I may” said Nicol “House Manshrew may be able to help us to defend our borders from any invading force and with how House Blackwell will try to claim Akki if the Concord win the war, House Manshrew could help destroy our enemies if we join them.”
“You are right Nicol.” replied Freya, she turned her attention back to Andreas “Perhaps I was wrong to dismiss your Lords offer so quickly. I will admit that alone that we could not hold off the Imperial Fleet but with the aid of the Manshrew Alliance we might and maybe we can achieve your Lord’s ultimate goal. Unity among the kingdoms. Nicol, Elduin prepare our ships and men. We sail to Telmarion. Tell Lord Andrew that he will have our ships and men to aid him.”
“Thank you my Lady.” Andreas said who was delighted to hear this.
“My man will escort you out.” said Freya.
The soldier from before led the way with Andreas following behind. Andreas knew he would have to send word straight away to Lord Andrew.
A few days later: Plans for Battle Andrew along with Humber and the Lanistark twins stood around the war table. They had been discussing for some time in terms of what to do with the problem that was at hand. Claus and his mercenaries had taken the city but however Claus had taken many casualties. Andrew and the others argued over what to do next.
“With respect Lord Andrew. If we do not take the city soon we will have to deal with the might of the DeReimer army which we won’t be able to deal with unless we take the city. That way we will have stable ground to stand on and we can hold off the army and we can cut the head of the snake off and win this war.” Said Serala.
Andrew was getting tired from all the arguing but was willing to hear her out. He asked “And what do you propose Serala?”
Serala replied “Me and Maror propose that we rush the city before the DeReimer army arrives that way when they do arrive we can surprise them and take them out.
Humber replied “What happens if we can’t take the city and the army arrives if they do they could easily flank us and could wipe us out with minimal effort.”
“Then what do you propose that we do then Daeron.” said Andrew.
Humber replied “We wait them out, we trap them in the city. Nothing comes in nothing comes out. Eventually they’ll have to surrender once they run out of resources. That way we don’t lose any men before the DeReimers arrive.”
“But we have no idea how long that will take he have to destroy them now!” said Maror.
“Enough!” said Andrew, the tent went quiet. “I know that all of you have your own best intentions at heart and all of you are right in a way.” He turned to Serala. “Serala I know we have to take the city but we can’t rush in blindly and risk losing most of our men in the process.” He then turned to Humber. “Daeron I understand you don’t want to lose any more men but we can’t sit around and wait for the enemy to surrender. We must act but we have to be careful.”
The twins and Humber nodded in agreement ready to listen to Andrew’s plan.
Andrew said as he pointed to various parts of the war table “Here is what I suggest we use our artillery and our archers to fire over the wall to bombard the city. While we do that we have one of our war elephants storm the gates. We will put more armour on it so that way it will be protected from any threats that it faces. Once the elephant breaks through the gates we will send it and our men into the city hopefully the previous bombardment will destroy most of the resistance. We will capture the city district by district. Once we have the city we will prepare ourselves for when the DeReimers arrive. Does anyone have any questions?”
The others remained in silent. “Very well.” said Andrew. “Prepare your men and pray to the gods that this goes well.” The Lanistark twins left the tent then suddenly a messenger entered the tent.
"Lord Manshrew! I have some news concerning both Orog and Coruneon."
Both Andrew and Humber turned their attentions to the messenger. “Let’s hear it” said Andrew.
“I am afraid to say that have both been lost to House Wulfrick and Greensworth.” said the Messenger.
Humber was disturbed to hear this news. “Do you know what has happened to my family?” he asked.
“We are aware that the Coruneon garrison is heading towards Telmarion with Hemala Humber leading the garrison with 1500 men.” replied the Messenger.
“Thank the gods.” said Humber in relief. “And what about Aulus?” Humber asked.
“We do not know Lord Humber we did not see you son with your daughter.” replied the Messenger.
Humber was concern to hear this but Andrew said “Do not worry Daeron, I am sure your son is alive and well.”
Humber replied “I hope so.” Humber then left the tent to think on the news and to prepare his men for the battle. Andrew turned his attention back to the Messenger. “Is that all?”
“No my lord. We have received a message from Akki saying that House Neptuna is with us and that Lady Neptune is sending her men and ships to Telmarion.” replied the Messenger.
“That’s good news indeed. Anything else?” asked Andrew.
The Messenger replied “We have news about this new mercenary group called the Grim Company. They are led by their leader called Lady Grim. This group has a variety of soldiers and equipment in this group like mages and siege equipment. We could send an envoy to offer and alliance.”
“Send a messenger to this Lady Grim and say that I request her presence. I would speak to her to better understand her and this group and to see if they could be possible allies that I can trust.” said Andrew. “Is that all?”
The Messenger replied “Yes my Lord.”
“Then you are dismissed.” Said Andrew.
The messenger left the tent leaving Andrew to himself. With the promise of more men and a possible new ally Andrew felt confident about the approaching battle.
Lycaon’s carriage came to a halt as they came to the front of Thale Manor. Lycaon thanked his driver and then opened up the left door, stepped out, and, closing the door, approached the manor. Lycaon did not know much of Lanaya Dionisa, certainly not enough, but he did know that she was a mage of great skill, and a formidable woman in all things. Lycaon, wearing his armor, approached Thale Manor, and the guards were not overly suspicious.
“My name is Lycaon Issarat, Grandmaster of the Order of St. Elenor,” Lycaon said. “I wish to meet with Lanaya Dionisa, and I am aware that she is staying here.”
Since the event outside the manor, security had been raised. Now there were three guardsmen at the door, including a lieutenant of the watch with the authority and initiative to react to events reliably. It was this man, resplendent in full chain and with a more decorated sword than the mundane weapons of his fellows, that replied.
"Sir Lycaon, it is a great honor to have such an esteemed individual as yourself visit this humble manor." He motioned to have the doors opened to permit the Grandmaster entry. As the doors opened, he caught the attention of a maid that was passing by inside. "Mary, inform M'lady Dionia that she has a guest - Sir Lycaon Issarat."
Turning back to Lycaon, he spoke again. "Sir Lycaon, the Grand Hall is just beyond - wait there and Lady Dionisa will be with you presently, I am sure." His tone suggested that what he said was more hope than expectation. After all, Sorceresses were well known as fickle and self centered individuals.
“And for this, I thank you,” Lycaon said.
So with this said, Lycaon left the lieutenant’s presence and walked forward into the Grand Hall.
It was several more minutes before Lana descended the stairs into the grand hall in which most guests were received. She had not intentionally made him wait, but she did not rush either. She still wore black, though did not have any head wear on this time, leaving her copper hair to flow freely and strike a stark contrast with her otherwise dour attire.
"Sir Lycaon." She said as she descended the last few steps. "To what do I owe the honor?"
Her tone was as smooth as ever, concealing her suspicion and distrust of this man before her with politeness and respect.
“Lady Dionisa,” Lycaon said, and did a bow before her. “I must offer my congratulations for your promotion to His Majesty’s High Council. But that is not why I have come. On behalf of the Church I must offer the sincerest apologies for the incident the people of this city caused. The Church condemns in the harshest their unholy transgressions. We firmly rejected the actions of the rabble, so that clear minds may triumph.”
At that, Lana's face hardened into a scowl. Was a formal apology really the best he could do? He certainly had presence, and when he spoke, he sounded sincere. With his beatific visage, she suspected most people just believed whatever he said as though it was the word of the gods.
But she was a master of misdirection and half truth. She would not be fooled so easily - not when the evidence presently painted Lycaon as the man behind Aurelia's death.
"That is a fine sentiment." She stated coolly. "But I am curious how, in the heart of the most enlightened city in the land, following an edict from the King banning just such a thing, a lynch mob managed to set up a burning outside my house so spontaneously and successfully?"
She didn't explicitly accuse the church of being blind to the sentiments among its own people... But it would be hard to miss such a thinly veiled barb in her tone and words.
To this question Lycaon knew that there was no easy answer which could be completely satisfactory and pleasant. Yet of course Lycaon would give an answer anyway. The fact was that control over the people was hard, and that to control the trends and passions of the many, if it could be done, required not only subtlety and intelligence but also time. Yet Lycaon could not say all of this out loud. He was now aware that this meeting would not be going near as well as he had been hoping.
“The people have within themselves the capacity of goodness,” Lycaon said. “But they have not always the will. And for this reason we must teach them what virtue and goodness is, either through instruction or through the whip. Prejudices run deep, but if we dig deep enough they may be rooted out. The people who, in their shamelessness, attacked you were overcome by an evil passion, and such actions are not without consequence. The Church shall never tolerate such actions.”
Lana nodded in approval at his response. "That is good. Mages have suffered enough persecution already without the people forgetting that our gifts are gods given and rightful. I trust you will be taking a more proactive role in reminding the people of these ideals in this tumultuous time?"
Lana knew as well as any in power that the last head of the church was not exactly interested in the people. At this point, anything Lycaon did was already more than what the church had done before - but that didn't mean she couldn't prod him towards making a show of his actions and allegiances. With any luck, it might also shed more light on what he really wanted. She didn't believe for a moment that his motives were as pure as he claimed.
Lycaon wondered whether or not Lanaya had really be convinced by his words at all, for he had scarcely added anything more, other than stressing his disagreement with the rabble. Yet whatever the case, he continued.
"Yes, I shall see to it," Lycaon said. "Consider it an oath."
"I will remember this Sir Lycaon..." Lana said, seemingly placated.
She turned away for a moment, but then refocused on the Knight. "Tell me. How far do you believe this mad idea that mages are evil has spread within the church, and for how long? I can't help but feel the timing is suspicious, when my dear friend Aurelia has been so recently slain in the street." Lana's tone was both accusative and mournful as she spoke of the matter.
Lycaon was honest. “I was unaware you were a friend of High Magister Aurelia. My condolences, Lady Dionisa. It is hard to say, precisely, when this element entered into the holy Church. It may have been a sentiment, however false, that entered into the minds of the vulgar very early on. That infamous radical Donatus, in the century after Klebrithy, said such things, but for that and many other erroneous beliefs he was condemned. Or the belief may be even older, and the prejudice against mages may come from the times when the heathen gods Giphine, Hizreus, and Hystix were still worshipped. As for how deep these beliefs are in the Church, I cannot say. But I can say they run deep, and run high, and it will be no easy task for me to root it out of the leadership. There is a certain theologian, Bernarda of Yannis, that is especially noteworthy in this regard.”
Lana nodded, taking it all in. The names were not familiar to her, for she was not student of theology, but the message was clear. It was then that a plan formed in her mind, a way to make this Knight a more useful piece in her strategy while ensuring her own safety. Her tone and expression changed sharply then, now to sympathy. It was calculated, a ploy to recover from the disdain she had shown earlier.
"I cannot know what it is like to have ones organization sullied by such vulgarity, but I can understand the task that lies ahead of you... It is not easy to fight for what is right, but it is always worth it. To that end, we may yet be able to work together. You can provide me with one of your Knights as a personal guard, to ensure my safety and show that the church supports mages in this dire time. In return, I will instruct mages who fear burning to seek out the churches you know can be trusted, that they might find safe haven, and you might find their pursuers and enlighten them. Such an arrangement will help immensely in building trust, even as our foes try to destroy it."
What she did not say, was that if she did end up dead while a holy Knight was guarding her, with the suspicion already on the church, it would be very bad for Lycaon. And on the off-chance he wasn't the one that attacked Aurelia, it made her safer against those who did.
Lycaon found the request surprising, and it did not escape his attention that this put all the responsibility on him. Nonetheless, he found no great reason why he should not accept, for he did not see that she requested anything great.
"Your request is granted," Lycaon said. "I will send to you one of my most trusted knights, and they shall arrive as soon as is possible, and I shall ensure that the mages have safety within the churches."
"You have my thanks sir knight." Lana said cordially. "I will not forget your assistance." She put on a sincere tone, but it was hollow. Even she couldn't manage to be this nice to someone she still thought an enemy.
"Unless there is anything else, I would like to return to catching up on the duties of my new position that have been left unattended for some time..."
"No, there was nothing else," Lycaon said. "And with that, I bid you farewell, Lady Dionisa."
He bowed, then at last turned around a stepped into his carriage. It did not take long for him, then, to be gone.
For days it had been a guerilla battle, the men of the Steel Fist making miniature strikes upon the forces of the Manshrew alliance which were working to take hold of the town. But the day had come which Claus had awaited with no anticipation, the drums rang in the distance.
-"It's time." Claus said while staring out from one of the arrow slits in the keep. As he ran towards the keeps gate the drums grew to a crescendo with at least twelve deep war horns sounding the attack. He stopped in front of a window to see the scores of banners marching into the town on a sea of troops. Andrew had gotten tired, he was seizing the town with utter force and would probably go for the keep at the same time.
-"INCOMING!" Was heard roared from somewhere when the wall next to Claus exploded as a trebuchet boulder smashed right through. The siege engines were working overtime, a final hail before an assault. Claus had used the technique himself in the siege of Krypola.
-"They will charge within minutes, positions, POSITIONS!!!" Claus boomed out as he finally reached the gatehouse, troopers were running to and fro, carrying stones, munitions and water to posts, many were standing put and the crossbowmen were already beginning to shoot through the slits. Knowing his men, this meant enemy troops were already within optimum crossbow range, which in turn meant that the enemy were making great progress in taking the town outside. -"Sound the retreat, i want any of the men outside back inside the keep. Then seal the hidden passages!" Claus roared to a runner, whom ran to a balcony and sounded his bugle, which was followed by another bugle. Shortly after a massive stationary horn call sounded the retreat into the town. He knew some of his attack teams were doubtlessly dead or surrounded already, but at least he wanted them to have a chance at getting back with this warning. A great impact shook the room Claus was residing in and a trooper fell to the ground while others held on tight. The Manshrew siege crews had managed to topple an ancillary tower, which was toppling over the main gatehouse. Luckily the fortress of Clarm and specifically its stronghold was designed to withstand anything. Even dragons the stories claimed.
-"Steelhead! Look to the main street!" One of Claus' lieutenants shouted to him, he looked out and saw what he was referring too. A massive elephant sounding its presence, it had massive ivory tusks, covered in decorative plates. It wore gleaming heavy armour decorated with brass and orange cloth beneath. The massive elephant bull trumpeted again and it was coming directly for the gate. -"Hizreus balls!!!!" Claus roared as he began to run towards a stair which went up to the remaining ballista tower over the entrance. Claus realized he had at least one comfort, unless Andrew wanted to kill his own men, he'd stop shooting with the siege engines, and he was correct. The final barrage had silenced, but from up here Claus could see the Orange banners and the massive bull marching along the main street. Enemy siege engineers were fastening chains to the gate as his troops shot bolts at them. But shield bearers were protecting the engineers, so albeit with casualties the chains were properly fastened.
-"Aim for the head, we need to take it out!" Claus ordered the ballista crew, their chief engineer making adjustments before roaring. -"NOW!" The massive bolt flew straight, it was a perfect shot. With massive force the bolt slammed into the head of the massive elephant bull with enough force to send it stumbling across the street, crushing a couple of men and a banner. -"YES!" Claus shouted, seeing the bolt stuck in the head of the elephant. It made a frustrated sound but to the defenders horror, the bull reassumed its place in the middle of the road and began to march towards the gate again, the ballista bolt still stuck in its massive armour. With just a trickle of blood showing it did anything at all. -"NO!!!!" Claus roared out as Manshrew engineers were fastening the chains to the elephant which began to pull at the gate which creaked violently with the might of the Uzgob bull. Claus was already running, he had a plan, a stupid plan.
He ran towards the upper levels of the gate, atop a ladder and to a roof. -"Sir, what are you doing!" A concerned trooper who had followed him called out to him. -"I'm going to kill that monster!" Claus yelled out pointing at the elephant. An arrow pinged off his helm making him lose concentration for a second before returning to smash at a banner pole with his mace. -"That's suicide! You'll die!" The trooper shouted. With the effort making itself known in his voice, Claus added. -"If i don't... we, will, all... DIE!" On die, the banner lost structural integrity and began to wave in the wind. Claus let no time be lost and climbed up on a roof, one of his troopers on the inside looking at him confused before returning to shooting. Manshrew arrows were constantly striking the roofs, for a second Claus realised how high up he was and just stared down upon the mad scene below. The handlers chanting, heave, heave, heave in unison with the elephants motions. The gate would not be able to take more, and if the gate fell, the Manshrew's would surely win this day.
-"I don't do this a lot, but Timtos! This better work or i'll beat the crap out of you as a ghost!" Claus said before taking a running start and launching himself at the banner pole which began to slowly fall over the massive bull below. With the constant anger and fear filled roar of Claus filling the entire battle scene. The pole was too short, so Claus used it to launch himself unto the elephant, sword tip first with a roar.
The impact was massive, the elephant even felt it. Claus' sword broke in half with the force and he slammed into the elephant and rolled over to its right side. -"It's their leader! Get him!" One of the Manshrew engineers shouted, another soldier screamed as he charged for Claus with a two handed mace. Claus was barely able to move from the pain when he saw a crossbow bolt hit the man's jugular. With that Claus' adrenaline began to keep up with the pain and he rolled under the elephant as an halberd head slammed into the ground where his throat had been. He had let go of his sword handle, it was too cumbersome to roll with, he still had the ricasso with the blade. As he looked up he saw something which made him glad. The belly was not as armoured as the top, sure there was armour, but there were weak points and he saw one right at the elephants throat. With an anguished scream, he took his blade and made a two-handed thrust into the bulls jugular, or at least he thought it was it.
The scream of that elephant would haunt many men for years to come, as it began to panic and flail its trunk and its front legs as it rose to its hind legs. Manshrew animal handlers were using their goaders to try and calm the beast, but to no avail. The massive feet slammed down at the sides of Claus, who were frozen with fear. He had no time to react when the beast with a stumbling motion swiped its right foot to its left. Flinging Claus into the wall of the killing ground before the elephant toppled over, blocking entry to the gate. His world went dark as the elephant's head slammed down over him. As the bull twitched slightly, three Manshrew men were cut down as they got stuck in the killing ground. Behind the fallen beast the troops were in disarray, the plan having failed and thus, confusion began to take hold.
The Manshrew alliance had taken the town in full. But the stronghold still stood, with a massive obstacle in the way of getting a ram or other siege device to the gate, the prospect of another similar charge was complex.
However, with their leader missing, the defenders had taken a massive toll themselves. Roogel took command over the Steel Fist and the defence of the stronghold.
The Fortress City of Clarm appeared like a burning haze on the horizon, the towering columns of smoke giving away its position long before the Grim Company came into view. The Commander Tokugawa Ieyasu and the Count of Lanistark rode at the head of the long winding column of stern faced soldiers, none of whom showed any surprise at the sight before them. This was, after all, a fighting force who had not seen peace in ten year, they had lost friends and lovers, they had conquered cities and strongholds that made the crude stone fortresses of Formaroth look like children's toys, they were warriors, and they were the best.
The Count of Lanistark, assigned to guide the Grim Company to the siege, had found himself instead being led. Even in friendly territory the Grim Company had scouts ranging far and wide, ever sweeping the landscape before them, and ever reporting back to their commanders. The Count glanced sideways at the man who rode next to him. Commander Tokugawa Ieyasu, second only to her Ladyship, was a bull of a man by any standards. Like many of his soldiers he wore a finely cropped beard, kept his hair neatly combed and braided, and bathed frequently. His weapons, The Count noted, were of the finest quality and The Count had seen the Seikastsu steel cut cleanly through a Formarothian blade and breast plate.
The Seikastsu soldier caught the Counts gaze and grinned. He was almost the polar opposite of the Lady Grim in his mannerisms, friendly, approachable, and generous in his praise.
"Your duties are nearly at end my Lord Count." Tokugawa was ever polite to the Count, though the Count had come to realize that all soldiers of the Grim Company were painfully polite no matter their true feelings. They wore the politeness like a mask and Tokugawa had told him this was the way of the Seikastsu people.
"Aye, indeed. Though I shall be sorry to go. I have enjoyed this journey." The Count said honestly as he glanced up the roadway to where the Lady Grim rode alone, as she usually did, her red hair billowing in the wind that drove the smoke of the burning city towards him. He had been unable to help it, despite the coldness and aloofness of the woman he, like so many thousands of men before him, had fallen in love. He could not miss the rage that drove her, nor ignore the stories of the horrors she had meted out on men she found defiling women, but he found he did not care.
Tokugawa followed his gaze and nodded in understanding. "You are not the first man to have said as such, nor will you be the last. Her Ladyship is a woman we all love and respect. Her enemies would be wise to add fear to that list."
The Count did not doubt that for a moment. He had watched her engage four of her own Samurai in a practice bout during the march South with nothing but an ashwood staff while they wore full armour and carried real swords. On her nod they had bowed and then attacked with furious war cries and the Count watched appalled as they actively attempted to kill their own Commander. He had almost gone forward to put a stop to it when Tokugawa, who was standing next to him, had placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"When you are told to spare with the Lady Grim you do not hold back. She does not reward weakness."
The Count had remained rooted to the spot and watched in amazement as she disarmed, and then downed all of her opponents in short order. She helped each man to his feet afterwards and bowed to them all. They all returned the bow with smiles on their faces, each one dipping lower and more formally than she did. The respect was clear.
"My Lord Count." The sound of her voice, almost musical to his ear, brought him abruptly out of the memory and he found himself staring into a pair of smokey blue eyes and an unsmiling face.
"My Lady Grim?"
"Will you be accompanying us to the City or do you intend to return home at once?" She asked with a brief wave towards the burning skyline which backlit her like some hellish halo, the red flame of her hair almost matching the fire of war.
"I was ordered to bring you to the city and make an introduction to Lord Manshrew. If your Ladyship will allow it." He could not tear his eyes from her face, nor did he want to. He had been unable to describe her when he wrote home to his father, finally saying only that she was captivating.
"Excellent. My forward scouts have made contact with the Manshrew outriders. Please make your way forward and ensure we are greeted as friends. We will wait here for you."
The Count nodded and bowed as he had seen the Samurai do. She returned the bow with a curt nod and then rode off down the line, calling out to the men to halt and rest easy. The Count straightened up and caught Tokugawa watching him with a curious smile on his face.
"You do that rather well for a Southern Barbarian, my Lord Count. Have you been practising?"
Realizing that the Samurai was teasing him The Count laughed and waved his bodyguard forward. "Maybe, my Lord Tokugawa. I suspect that if I have been born on another continent I would have very much enjoyed it. Your customs are very strict but I can see the wisdom in them."
Tokugawa's eyes sparkled. "You do not need to be born there, my lord. Her Ladyship is proof enough of that. If you ever tire of your way of life then come and find us. I will ensure that we find a place for you in our ranks."
The two men exchanged bows and the Count kicked his mount southward to where he could see several Manshrew scouts watching them from a ridgeline.
Town of Greenwood, Ralda Featuring: Percival, Johannia, Sir Oswyn. Special thanks to @ZB1996.
"Pawns of the Gods"
As Eclipse had predicted, the rains grew heavier during the night. He had been wise to elect to tarry within the Dwarven tunnel where it was dry. There was little available for a fire, but the air was warm enough. He had blankets, one for himself and one for his horse, who reluctantly folded its front limbs down and flopped uneasily on the firm ground beside him once it had been unburdoned. No other travelers came through during the night, as to be expected for such gloomy weather, but the constant drone of rain eventually faded to near silence. Eclipse slept. He didn't get many hours, but he didn't need it, he hadn't been fighting.
With a prayer and a fist over his heart, he rose to greet the dawn, grateful to see a drier day opening up before him. He had memorized a lot of prayers. The tome at his side was more of a comfort now than a necessity, but it was useful for sharing with others. This one was to Nidanke, goddess of the land, for good fortune during travel, but also for guidance to where he was most needed. He brushed down the grey gelding, who's coat was now mostly white with age, and checked its feet. The animal was sound, but would need to graze to keep its strength up. "The town's not far from here." Eclispe spoke to it softly. "The stable will have grain, and a nice bed of straw for you to lay down in. I suppose I wouldn't mind some straw of my own either." He smiled and secured the last saddle bag. The two rode on once more.
The countryside was breathtaking in the morning sunlight. Instead of forests, the land was shaped by rolling hills and grasses, with individual wolfwood trees spotting the view here and there. Wind favored the hilltops, and small streams sang their splashy songs in the valleys. Shortly, the lone knight came upon a clear roadway, a hardened path where the earth was marred by frequent use. Farmland took over where grasses had formerly dominated, and Eclipse could see the first barns and marks of civilization coming into view. He smiled and waved as he passed the first townsfolk, yet his greeting was not returned. "Strange," he thought, as he began to percieve a coldness from these people as he entered the town. People seemed to eye him up and down at first, immediately aware that he was a stranger before deciding he was anything else. His armor undoubtedly would have been intimidating, but his white cloak spoke peace as it flapped gently beside him, identifying him as a knight of the church. Bandits would probably have chosen darker shades, or so Eclipse had hoped.
A child ran screaming as the knight walked his horse into the stable. Eclipse hesitated in order to spare the little one any fear. He paid for a day of keep for his horse and settled on his plans. Something untoward had happened to this town, and he was intent on finding out what. Of course, the local church would be able to fill him in and might even make use of him before he left again for Nyhem. He would seek their report as soon as he had eaten something himself. Perhaps there would be more news circulating at the inn as well. What was the name of it again? The Grand Old Lion?
-----
Having stripped himself of his gauntlets, helm, and thrown a simple tabbard over his armor, Eclipse looked more like a town guard than the fierce soldier of the gods that he was. He descended to the ground floor of the inn, into an open tavern with a warm smile, his flowing golden hair loose, and his sword but a silent memory beneath his cloak. In this way, he kept any intimidation to a minimum. One caught more flies with honey, and Eclipse intended to gather information.
The townsfolk in here were mostly regulars, more of them eating at this time of day than drinking. The holy knight chose a table in the middle of the room where a savy eye would recognize him for what he was. Food would come, and while he waited, he listened.
The blonde knight thanked the woman who had brought over his meal, grateful as well to the land that provides. He ate quietly, listening to the sounds of the hearth. Eating was a necessity that all people shared, from the smallest babe to the burliest man, and in the expression of common need was a spiritual unification of all under the gods. Eclipse recognized the pervading sense of calm, of peace, in this homely place.
He finished and then began to stack his plates and clean his own table. Seeing this, a busboy rushed over to intervene. "That won't be necessary, erm, sir knight." The young man hesitated on how to address Eclipse once he saw the fine armor underneath the white tabbard. He began to clear the table. "Patrons have no need to clean up after themselves. Fair coin is all that will be necessary. Was everything to your satisfaction?"
Eclipse sat back down. "Why thank you, my good man. You'll find my payment is on the table. The food was good indeed. I would return again should my travels take me back through Ralda." He watched the youth at his labor, strong hands, fair skin, and lean. The lad was vigilant, hard working, thereby likely an honest man. Surely he would do well in life. "Gods' blessings my friend. Could I tarry you for but a moment?"
The busboy straightened. He had duties to get to, but this knight's smile was captivating. Curiosity won out.
Eclipse was glad to see he had an ear. "Greenwood has changed since my last venture here. No one is on the roads, I see no children playing outside. Has there been a battle?"
Plates in hand, the young man frowned. "We've had a terrible problem with bandits from the north, my lord. They've robbed our banks and stores, broken into homes, and done worse than steal. We've asked for aid, but with the war against Lord Manshrew going on, the king, King Duncan De Remier, supposedly cannot spare the men to defend us. It's come down to every man protecting their own in Ralda, please don't take offense."
"Oh none taken my friend. You have done well to inform me, and I deeply sympathize. I am Eclipse, Knight of Klebirthy, and I will personally raise my arms in defense of this town so long as I am here. I go now to the temple for clerical reasons, but I will inquire as to their resources while I am there. Though Kings and Lords may falter, the Gods will never abandon their faithful. Take heart in this, my friend." Eclipse touched the man's shoulder reassuringly as he spoke.
The busboy nodded, but looked uncertain. Eclipse easily read the guilt in his eyes as he glanced aside. The knight hesitated, considering what demon plagued this innocent soul. He spoke softly. "I wonder... I see doubt in your eyes. Do not fear. You cannot hide it from me. What is on your mind?"
"Forgive me, Sir." The man was exactly as Eclipse had gathered, honest. "It's just that, well there have been rumors about the church. I don't know what to believe."
Eclipse nodded, knowingly. This was the work of the dark gods, Hystix and Giphine, the result of heretics spreading their seeds of doubt. He had to get to Nyhem, and fast. "I too have heard such rumors, and I fear for the future of the faithful. But know this, and this is all the advice I can give you. The gods themselves are constant, no matter the work of mortals. The faith that lives in your heart cannot be taken away from you. Hold onto it, until we can discern truth from lies in the inquisition that is to come." He smiled solemnly, and the young man left to carry on with his duties.
Johannia and Percival were sitting a safe distance from the blonde knight, yet they were close enough to hear him. On one side of her Johannia had a pewter tankard filled to the brim with, and had a plate full of jerky and potatoes. She was tired from all of the traveling, from the fatigue she felt from her very life being chased and constantly thinking over the endlessly intricate complexities of political intrigue. She did not know how it was that Percival could still remain so cheerful and energetic after all. For now all that truly mattered to her was eating this meal and getting through the next meal, though she was disappointed deeply that her travel so far had been delayed as much as it had. Percival was not as much down as Johannia was, and he listen to the conversation of nearby blonde knight intently. It would seem to him that this knight just might be exactly what he needed in order to finally get out of this backwoods safely.
“Excuse me, sir,” Percival said, rising to his seat. “I really couldn’t help but overhear that you wanted to get rid of those bandits, which have been causing so much trouble recently.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Johannia said, turning her head to Percival.
“Trust me on this one," Percival said. "Those bandits have gotten the two of us stuck here, when we really ought to be on our way. So if you require my sword, sir, you can have it, at least for now."
Eclipse welcomed the stranger to a seat at his table and listened with growing approval. "How the Gods have graced us!" He responded appreciatively. "You are a good man to make such an offer, friend. On behalf of the people of Ralda, I thank you. I am Eclipse Kornova, sworn to the gods themselves and to the one true church of Klebirthy. You may call me Sir, if you wish, but I have renounced my lordship and titles. 'Eclipse' will do just fine. Please, tell me where you hail from and how the bandtis have troubled you and your companion." The knight gave the most sincere expression, like a true brother, and he listened with a stoic gravity that implied he planned to do something about it.
“A pleasure to meet you, Eclipse. The name’s Percival, and this is –” Percival began.
“Clara,” Johannia interjected. “We came from Nyhem, and were on our way to Fishgrove, the capital here, when those bandits barred our way. Thanks to Percival here, we managed to get away safely, but we still haven’t been able to get through, and have been stuck here for a while.”
“And that’s where you come in,” Percival.
The two seemed perfectly innocent. Eclipse had a subconscious inclination to trust a lady, believing them to be inherently more virtuous creatures, and any man in such company shared some measure of her edge, even if he barely knew her name. He nodded. "I see. I believe I can help you, as well as helping Greenwood and possibly all of Ralda. It is the influence of the dark gods that leads men to prey upon each other, and therefore it is only the power of the Eight that can undo such madness. Come with me to the church. There we will bring our people together to form a proper defense under the guidance of the gods. The people are in need of an organized daily patrol and nightwatch. These could surely be provided from the many faithful souls willing to dedicate themselves to such a holy cause, the protection of the meek. They only need be inspired and believe." In the knight's crystal blue eyes was the image of his vision, a heavenly land guarded by noble warriors of light, and as he smiled it was hard not to fall under his sway, to implicitly trust him. Who on Earth had birthed such a charismatic man?
A cloud blew across the vision momentarily, obscuring it, and something like doubt flickered in Eclipse's eyes as just before he let his gaze fall. His demeanor changed to pensive as he considered whatever had stricken his vision. Soon, he explained, "It is this very element, belief itself, that I have come to protect. Without it, humankind will crumble powerless under the constant weight of evil and chaos that seek to overtake us. I travel from Thralreth to the capitol, Nyhem, to stop the spread of doubt and heresy that has begun there. The heretic, Johannia, shatters the very bond between humanity and the gods of light with her words. I could never have conceived of a more lethal move by our unholy enemies, to send a wolf in sheep's clothing to decry the church itself. So you see this is why I must reach the city with all due haste, yet I am torn, for I cannot abandon those in need whom the gods' have placed in my wake."
His smile suddenly returned, as if taking an odd pleasure in the irony of the situation. "Yet I trust them, the Eight. In bringing us together this day, they have given us the opportunity to restore the people's faith, starting with Greenwood. Come my friends! Percival and Clara, let us go now to the temple and begin what must be done."
Johannia gave a cough. Neither Johannia nor Percival dared to look at each other, though they wanted to.
“Yes, let us go,” Johannia said. “And under the grace of the gods, we shall succeed.”
The trio proceed to the temple at Greenwood with Eclipse leading the way. It wasn't difficult to find, for people prayed often in hard times. The building was a large wooden structure, with wide, open doors through which holy incense wafted out into the commons, a tradition said to invite the spirits of the benevolent deities. Inside was a large gathering hall with the typical eight centerpieces, each representing one of the gods. As Eclipse entered, he pressed his palms together and bowed his head, uttering softly as per common tradition in his homeland, "Gracious gods, I humbly beseech thee. Cleanse me of my sin so that I may be welcome in your home." He passed through and looked around.
There were a number of people at each of the shrines. No sermon was at the moment being given, and so anyone could come and go as they pleased. Not yet seeing the temple priest, Eclipse gravitated toward one of the holy icons. "Leplo." He looked up to it and paused reflectively. "He speaks to me quite often, leading his guidance in matters of justice, love, forgiveness... Theologians who study the gods often argue exactly where one god's realm ends and another's begins. For, is showing mercy to one's enemy not also worshiping Jykher, the god of life? It is a fascinating discussion. Ah, but alas, we have not the time. We must find the head priest and ask to be seen."
Johannia and Percival entered inside the temple alongside Eclipse. She felt that this warrior was always in a state of religious ecstasy, or at least half-way. She was, in any case, outdoing herself in all outward notions of piety, despite who she was. She did make a solemn and reverent expression, though her expression was usually sour anyway, but did not make a loud proclamation like Eclipse did. Yet she could not really respect a man who had, unwittingly, thoroughly denounced her so soon after they had met. Yet she listen to the words he was saying, and she nodded.
“It is something I have often wondered on,” Johannia said in response to his ponderings on the nature of the particular domains of the gods. “But true, we mustn’t discuss it here.”
It didn't take long to find the Klebirthy priest assigned to this little parish. He lived in the temple, which was not unusual. Fortunately, he had been puzzling over this very same issue. Conversation ensued.
"...I had been praying to all the gods for an answer to this dilemma for weeks, for the flock suffers in the wake of these Anjervine wolves, but I always knew in my heart that my faith would be rewarded. Now you have come, the white knight of Thralreth." The grey-maned cleric was filled with hope after hearing Eclipse's proposition. His cheeks were rosy against pale skin as he looked upon the three of them sitting in his office.
Eclipse smiled, flattered at being recognized, but didn't let it get to him. "You are very kind, Father Mackery. I will draft the mission statement and set rulings for conduct and protocol in permanent record. The gods do much for us for our prayers, but in answering, they require our action. As a man of the church, I am sure you know the saying.
By combining their vigilance and traveling in groups, the people of Greenwood will be more apt to protect themselves from these roving bandits. You will be their spiritual leader as before, guiding them in this endeavor. My friends, Percival, Clara, and I, will be able to assist initially, but we are travelers as well and are needed elsewhere. I hope you understand. I will do what I can to protect this town and see that the people are brought together before I leave."
The blonde knight glanced to his companions. "I will go back to the inn to begin writing. Until the streets are safe, you two may not be able to continue your journey. Perhaps you could begin spreading word to the townsfolk and leading them here to the temple to meet with Father Mackery. We will need to call the able-bodied especially."
“That’s the least that we can do,” Percival said. “Though don’t forget, my friend, that this sword of mine is not merely for show. I look forward to fighting by your sword.”
“Yes, we’ll do it,” Johannia said. “It should be simple enough. Given the arms and the impetus, the people should be willing to fight after being harassed for so long.”
The impromptu meeting adjourned and Eclipse passed once again into the gathering hall on his way back to the street. It was then, when everything seemed to be beginning to be planned and put in order that another piece the puzzle was added. Standing within the Church were a group of men and women in shining plate armor, and as they heard Eclipse speak their leader approached them, and the rest of his knights followed him.
“I heard you speaking with the priest,” said the man in the shining plate armor who had approach. “And I can only commend you for your plans. My name is Sir Oswyn, from the Holy Order of Saint Elenor, and these are my fellow knights. I had come here with the hope of recruiting members for the coming campaign against the Manshrew Pretender. Yet because of those bandits, I have been held up here, and I have lost valuable time! Our men simply were not enough to defeat, for their numbers were to great. But your arrival is a good omen indeed. So, sir, should you allow it you shall have my sword, and the sword of every man and woman who follows me.”
Eclipse stopped in his tracks and faced the leader of the armed and armored knights. He recognized them immediately as allies, and his spirits lifted. "By their glory..." Uttered the amazed paladin. He could not believe the timing of this unexpected blessing.
Immediately in response, Eclipse greeted his fellow knight with a firm clasp of hands. "Never did I doubt the divine were at work here, yet even I failed to grasp with what strength they moved! My dear Sir Oswyn, your offer of aid is most eagerly accepted. On behalf of myself and the people of Greenwood, you and your knights have our deepest gratitude."
He let go of Sir Oswyn's hand and more formerly introduced himself. The priest, Clara, and Percival were also present for the exchange. "I am Eclipse Kornova of Thralreth, Knight of the Church of Klebirthy in all of Formaroth. In the eyes of the gods, you and I are brothers."
Eclipse paused a moment, considering the plans that were now unfolding in his mind. "Your arrival comes as a great blessing, Sir Oswyn, greater than you now realize, for now that you are here, I forsee a means through which Greenwood at least may have a swift victory over its enemies. I will of course still see to the creation of a defense coalition based in faith, but the gods have graced me a new plan. You see, Father Mackery here has told me of a cave to the west that the Anjervine raiders have been using as a hideout. The enemy remains encamped there, certain of their strategic foothold in the wilderness and doing little to ensure their defenses. I had believed Greenwood would be forced to endure repeated attacks from this location, but perhaps no longer. If the Eight will it, and you will join us, these raiders could be routed in a surprise attack lead gloriously by the holy warriors of the church. You, Sir Oswyn, and your men are fierce and righteous warriors, and your presence alone will lend much confidence, inspiring a sizeable force to join us in this endeavor. If we are to succeed, we must commit everything we have to victory. To strike at the enemy now would force them to retreat until the end of winter, buying months of peace."
Indeed the man had come up with a sound strategy, one that would possibly allow a quick return to safe travel through Greenwood. Eclipse beheld Sir Oswyn calmly for a moment, giving him time to consider any flaws in his proposition. "What say you my brother? This will not be possible without you."
“Of course we shall join you!” Sir Oswyn said. “As I said, our swords our now yours. Send the word and we shall join you. I look forward to seeing these bandits finally felled.”
Sir Oswyn as well as his fellow Knights were beginning to become excited, knowing that finally they would be able to leave this village and continue on their way. Johannia, however, was nervous. She knew too well that the Holy Order of Saint Elenor was nothing other Lord Lycaon’s own personal army, and these knights were nothing other than his soldiers. This made Johannia quite nervous and fearful of them, though for now she said nothing.
“Well, this is certainly great!” Percival said. “Glad to have you aboard, friends. Though we’ll still need some help from the villages if we want to take out these bandits, even with these knights’ help.”
Location: Across the Sea (Unknown officially) Time: Months Earlier before arrival at Nyhem (summer’s end) Featuring: Dyril, Kiseo, and Morian (written by Fallenreaper and ArisenMoon)
Across the horizon two distant ships named the Bein Thúl* and Nen Sigil** rolled over the waves lapping at their hulls. In union they broke smoothly across Elven Imperium territory and headed proudly toward Formaroth, neither hindered by the rise and fall of the tide. Onboard the Bein Thúl, Dyril could easily see the crew were keenly in their element. Their bodies rushed about in the background, each man attending to his own duties, and rarely paused long enough to acknowledge her presence on the deck.
She might’ve been a patron for the ship’s services, but she wasn’t the most important factor of this journey.
In the early months of the voyage, Dyril had been greatly bothered by it. She assumed it was because she wasn’t use to being publicly ignored. Instead she was often studied like some bizarre, obscene insect that had crawled its way from the darkest hole imagined within her family’s affairs. When she was very young and ignorant to the reaction of hybrids, she felt outlandish. However as time gradually went on, the behavior become expected in her everyday life. Now, she found herself too aware of its absence and struggled with how to react correctly to it. Oddly enough, relief had replaced the anxiety within a month causing her to become use to it.
The atmosphere was clearly much lighter compared to the many years she spent in the manor. It was something she found herself cherishing as she left a small, feminine smile creep along her lips. Her sights turned back upon the horizon as she resisted the urge to relax her image and lay her head upon her comfortably crossed arms upon the deck’s railing.
Her pride prevented her to act upon a childish impulse as her attention returned to spotting the large, gray shape called land in the far distance. She had done this every day for most the month, her mind believing it would make the voyage faster or impede her growing nerves rattling against her bosom. Each day was too soon to expect the sighting and even if she did, the man in the crow’s nest would spy it first before herself. With the thought in her head, her eyes shifted upward to notice the man named Jeb stationed there. Through the man was among the youngest, he had the keenest eyes according to the Bein Thúl’s captain Tato Brys.
Captain Brys was considerably interesting as far as humans go, through in Dyril’s mind he was inferior to Elves on most accounts. Naturally her attention drifted toward the dark haired, blue eyed man with skin like ebony at the helm. Currently he was occupied with the ship’s navigator who seemed to be insisting on a change in course which the captain frowned upon.
Though he lacked the regal image their escort ship’s captain, Revion, on the Nen sigil had, his bravery was admirable. Not many sailors dared to venture into dangerous water infested by pirates.
Dyril Elian let out a small breath then pulled her arms off the ship’s railing. They fell in front of her and crossed at her waist, one arm gripped the other. It was a habit from her days in the Elven court. Often it was considered the proper fashion for women to always ensure their hands and arms were in displayed in front for all to see. Through Dyril knew little about the custom, she suspected it developed to show feminine subservience to the Elven male role. The summer’s clear and calm day had determine her wear to be a simple pleated shirt and an over dress, through the salty air weighed the fabric down across her figure making it uncomfortable. After about a month at sea, she had Kiseo stop wrapping her fingers since it longer mattered.
Something moved into her peripheral vision causing Dyril to pause and tense, then whip her head about. She promptly relaxed upon seeing Kiseo, who gradually move into her usual position, and cautiously study her master’s reaction. Unlike Dyril, she was dressed in more modest attire to reflect her status as a slave: worn linen shirt and pants. A small smile broke across the angular features creating a softening on seeing the Mao up and about.
Weeks ago, Kiseo had fallen victim to sea sickness. Dyril was fearful because it was believed it could become scurvy if the Mao didn’t recovered from it. Scurvy often become lethal and through they had means to prevent it, through fermented cabbage to lime juice, there was little ability to properly treat it when contracted.
“Have you fully recovered, Kiseo?”***,” Dyril asked as she studied Kiseo, her eyes noted the color had returned to the yellow brown fur once more. In fact she looked much better than she did a week ago bring surprising relief to the hybrid Elf’s mind though she didn’t let the expression reach the surface.
"Yes, mistress," Kiseo retained her trained submissive manner, but her eyes flickered about the deck and the activity.
Dyril knew the expression well. The Mao had questions building up within her and it was only time before they all came spilling out for answers, something that she felt got the slave in more trouble than necessary. Before she could answer, the man in the crow’s nest straightened up then shouted something below.
“Captain, Brys! A ship to our port side,” Hollered the young lad while he seemed to scan for any identifying marks, his arm began to pull down the white flag which usually meant smooth sailing. His hand gripped the red, often a call for assistance from pirates or other sea worthy dangers the Nen Sigil could aid with. Immediately, several crew men halted in their work to cautiously watch the mysterious ship’s next actions.
Among them were Dyril and Kiseo, both fearful the ship would bound toward them and spur the crew into action.
---
Morian stood at the prow of the Sea Wolf, his eyes on the horizon as the ship glided across the water. The pure white sails were high in the air, catching the best of the breeze, sending the vessel across the ocean towards their target at a rapid speed. He turned his head slightly, looking back at the men moving about their tasks. Reaching up to his neck, he unclipped the cloak he wore, letting it fly off with the breeze.
"Lads, they have seen us by now. Those little ships they got don't have the speed to beat us. They are ours for the taking!" He raised his fist in the air, and his crew gave a roaring cheer. "Make ready to board! Arm yourselves, and kill the crew. Take any officers alive." The pirates gave another cheer, and quickly began rushing across the top deck, grabbing swords and axes, as several grabbed bows and arrows. Morian himself reached down to the side of the vessel, where he had left his rapier. He picked it up, and quickly tied it around his waist.
"Bring us in, and raise the colors!" Moments after he spoke, two men quickly gripped a coil of rope lying on the deck, quickly pulling on it. A pure red flag quickly caught the breeze, billowing in the wind. As it unfurled, the image of a orange phoenix could be seen on it. House Antherion had come.
---
Dyril's fluttering heart dropped and settled deep in her stomach upon witnessing the trailing ship's red flag unfurl to reveal pirates. She had only heard, from lucky sailors, about a deep red flag graced by an orange, flaming bird across the bottom and most often few individuals ever survived the encounter. If it wasn't for the fact they were now stalking her ship, she might considered the irony that these pirates were gradually wiping out their livelihood with each raid. No survivors frighten people into avoiding the sea and that meant less sailors, which explained the slim picking between Formaroth and the Elven Imperium.
She continued to stare in disbelief even when the men spurred into action. Lads and veterans, of all ages, raced across the deck toward the riggings. Their arms tugged at the riggings as they pulled them down, the sails became unfurled when they caught wind. The ship lurched forward and into the current heading toward Formaroth. Kiseo, quicker to recover from the silent shock, was the first to move. Her hands immediately wrapped protective about Dyril’s shoulder then began to lead the hybrid down below deck.
Thankfully, the Bein Thúl was much faster than she looked as she began to pull out distance over the two larger ships.
Meanwhile, the Nen Sigil had also prepared itself for a confrontation. Men upon the decks scrambled for their swords, daggers, and numerous other weapons as they hoisted their sails into the wind. The mast creaked harshly at the sudden increase of speed. Revion, a stout and healthy looking Elven rushed to the deck’s surface. His uniform easily showed his stature as captain among his crew with a prime white shirt, well kept breeches, boots, and belt with a sword sheathed within it. His long black hair was slicked back and placed in a ponytail, his voice raised among the bedlam with an authoritative roar, “Steady men gather your weapons! Let’s see if we can catch those filthy bilge rats’ attention and give them something else to chase.”
He turned back toward the portly human male at the helm, his hair white and thinning on top, “Mr. Letizi, cut amidst the port and forward direction. I want us betwixt that filth and the Bein Thúl, do you understand?”
"Yes sir!" With that, Letizi jerked the helm's wheel to the direction then held her firmly. With surprising grace and ease, the Nen Sigil began her angular direction to block the smaller ship from view. Revion was hoping the show of aggression might scare off or discourage the pirates, but he held great doubt it would work. Instead he focused on shouting orders in order to get as much speed as possible from the winds and the sails so to keep the vermin busy.
---
Morian watched the target ships moving, observing their deployment and changes. He was annoyed, now that he saw what he was truly up against. They had am escort vessel, and no simple escort ships at that. These were dedicated combat ships he faced. Such events demanded a change of tactics. Turning, he began walking down the length of the Sea Wolf, shouting new orders.
"Stow the bows and arrows. All archers, grab the pots and get ready to toss! Shields to the fore, prepare to provide cover!" His orders set his men into action once more. The archers quickly put away their bows and arrows, before opening a hatch in the ship. They quickly, but carefully pulled out several pure red pots held within, handing them to each other. At the same time, several of the larger pirates were picking up large slabs of wood, hefting them on their shoulders. The two groups quickly moved to the port side of the ship, shields in front with pots behind.
"Steer us to the starboard of the escort ship. Cripple the port side vessel, and prepare men to board the smaller ship. We will deal with them first, then pursue the fleeing ship." The helmsman nodded to Morian, quickly spinning the helm. The longship quickly came around, cutting through the water, and setting course directly between the two escort ships.
---
In all of his time on the vast seas, Revion had confidence in his abilities. He was a well seasoned sailor and captain, especially with his age as an elven individual. Highly reliable, his reputation had given him vast employment over the decades to support his family back on the mainland shores of Ilrenqua, an Elven coastal city. This alone kept them all from poverty and forced servitude among the Patricians ranks where nothing but abuse, pain and misery awaited them. Without him and this risk, they would suffer.
This motivation was the key thing that spurred Revion on as his eyes watched the Sea Wolf draw closer.
Unlike the Bein Thúl, the Nen Sigil was much slower in comparison and in moments the smaller ship quickly began to leave them behind. By the time the pirate ship had covered the distance needed, the smaller ship’s stern had left its escort about three meters in its wake on its attempt to escape and the larger quarry had moved in for the block. Its port beam exposed to the attackers, Revion made three sharp blows to an ivory whale bone whistle causing all the crew’s heads to turn to the port side. It was clear they were about to be boarded as they rushed in to form a small line about the ship’s edge. Each one, save for Letizi at the helm, had their weapons ready and were willing to fight until the last breath since they had little choice now.
If the Sea Wolf had been a living, breathing wolf, Revion was sure he would’ve seen the fangs bared for what the beast assumed to be an easy kill. However, the crew of the Nen Sigil wouldn’t go down easily. Each man was a trained combat fighter in this line of work and all intended to take down at least a pirate or two before their dying breath.
“Steady men, the moment they board first wave rush them. Letizi, no matter what, keep this ship between them and the Bein Thúl. Is that clear?” Revion asked the helmsman, the human nodded with a brave face and trying to swallow down the fright swelling in all of their chests. This was a confrontation no one looked forward to, but it couldn’t be avoided without risking their employer’s own vessel. As the Sea Wolf’s deck became visible, the Elven captain's eyes tighten in suspicion upon seeing the strange sight of the men positioned with shields and another row positioned just behind them. Something was happening but he couldn’t fathom what.
---
As the Sea Wolf came along with the side of the first ship, Morian brought his fingers up to his face, and proceeded to give a sharp whistle. Nearly in unison, the men holding pots took two steps forward, and threw the pots up into the air, and onto the deck of the ship. As the pots hit the deck, they shattered, releasing their contents onto the deck. Whale oil quickly spread out across the deck, and the a few of the enemy sailors got doused in it as well.
Morian extended his hand, and one of his sailors passed him a burning torch. Morian made brief eye contact with whom he assumed was the captain of the other ship. Morian then brought his arm back, and tossed the burning torch onto the deck of the other ship, into one of the oil pools. Turning his head, he waved for the helmsman to pull them away. They had another target to get.
---
When the oil splattered across the water soaked deck, Revion came to a deep and dark conclusion. This man wasn't a pirate. He was raging lunatic and a cold blooded murder, an individual that likely sought to wipe out every ship on the sea.
A few of the crew had managed to step back and prevented themselves from being doused in the liquid as their expressions were warped by confusion. When Revion made eye contact with Morian, he spotted the torch and spurred into action. His lithe figure darted across the oil pools toward the helm just when the pirate had tossed the torch. Revion’s words once more ripped across the salty air in urgency, "Fall back to the boats, NOW!"
Letizi watched in horror as the fire rushed across the deck the moment the oil was touched. His stout form was pushed out of the way and toward the nearest boat by the captain, the elf quickly placed his sword into his sheath then ripped a rigging rope from the nearest hook.
He began to bind it upon the helm's wheel and fastened in a fashion to follow the retreating Sea Wolf.
His long ears caught the chaos erupting along the deck. Men screaming as fire blazed across their figures and being shoved either overboard or in a mad dash for the boats. A few boats splashed down as sailors climbed haphazardly upon them. Others dove off into the sea, becoming helpless victims to her fickle nature. The fire spread to consume the wood on the deck quickly and would become a wild blaze in minutes.
Revion paused for a moment, his eyes noted that the Bein Thúl gradually became a speck on the distant horizon. She would live to see another day it seemed as even if the pirates rushed to pursue, they would never catch her before she entered Formaroth’s sea boundaries and encountered the Neptuna’s navy. They would be out manned before they managed to catch one single ship. A smirk shined on his angular face, Revion vanished below deck to jam the rudder.
An inferno greeted him upon entering. Smoke and fire licked the hull sides around him as he moved from the stairs toward the aft side, seeing the rudder not far from his position. He unsheathed his sword then with all of his might, jabbed down into the rudder’s mechanics to prevent it from moving in it’s preset course. It embedded deeply and stuck fast.
During Revion’s task below the deck, Morian would see the Nen Sigil’s side smack into the Sea Wolf’s. The fire jerked and tried to spread from ship to the other, a few breaking out over the Sea Wolf’s surface from the contact.
Back down below decks, Revion coughed and moved from the aft toward the stairs again. He found them nearly covered in fire now. Not wanting to be burned too badly, his arms removed his captain’s coat and then placed it in front of him like a barrier to protect any exposed skin. Not able to stay long, he rushed through the flames up the barely stable stairs. One cracked and nearly made him stumble, his leg barely saved him from a horrible death. Embers from the fire caught the coat on fire as he continued to move to the nearest side. A yell bellowed from his lip upon feeling heat touch his bluish flesh, his arms tossed away the now burning coat behind him and dive into the water.
He sank a bit, then swim up to break the surface. Fresh air enveloped his lungs causing him to gasp and cough to clear the carbon from his throat, his arm covered in what he believed was heavy burn wounds. Any fire on his person was now doused leaving him painfully scarred. A nearby boat caught sight of him and began to paddle in his direction with the intention to haul onboard.
---
Morian ignored the screams behind him. The shrieks of pain, and the shattering of the boat were of little care to him at the moment. What was more demanding of his attention, was the loss of the other ship. The speed of the little vessel was truly surprising, and Morian could barely see it on the horizon, after only a few minutes. Perhaps it would bring word of his ships actions. If it did, it would accelerate his plans if the mainland forces decided to respond. However, Morian had little doubt he could continue his plans.
He finally turned around the look back at the other ship, a majority of the flames put out as the ship sank beneath the waves. He saw a few sailors in the water, but a majority of the survivors seemed to have congregated around a few rowboats. The warship had to come around at a wide sweeping angle, to avoid the other vessel, which was still floating. Morian signaled for the Sea Wolf to come around, and he didn't need to tell his men to grab the bows again, they were already doing it. They moved to the sides of the ship, and with cold efficiency, began to fire at the survivors in the water.
Morian signaled for the ship to come to a halt, as they pulled along side a small clump of ships. His men moved to the side of the ship, raising their bows and aiming at the scattered survivors. Morian pushed his way forward, his men making a small gap for him.
"Hello, my name is Morian Antherion, of House Antherion. As of this moment, you are now all my prisoners. Throw your weapons into the water, and you will be brought aboard. If you refuse..." He flicked his wrist, and one of his men loosed their arrow. It sailed through the air, and planted itself in one of the men standing in the back of a rowboat. The poor man jerked from the impact, before falling into the water.
"You will find that doing as I say is much more preferable than resisting..."
---
Revion had been almost pulled up when arrow whistled past and darted into the water behind. His assisting crewmate suddenly widen his eyes and let go, his figure slumped over the edge as he splashed in with an arrow in his back. Not willing to let the man drown, the elven captain’s right hand gripped the side of the boat while his other reached for the fallen sailor. He snatched the shirt collar then tugged him toward the cover of the boat’s shadow. More arrows whistled by and were followed by more hollers, yells and panicked dives for any sort of cover. A few boats overturned with sailors hidden underneath to shield them from being shot.
When the arrow fire ceased, Revion listened to the ultimatum before another good man fell victim to the pirate’s cruelty. His jaw set in resistance while a few men tossed what little weapons they had into the water. Deep inside, the now ex-captain wanted to test the man’s threat rather than be a prisoner to a beast. Either way, all of them would die at this man’s hands.
His men, on the other hand, had different feelings and hoped to see their families in the future. All of them readily surrendered to the tyrant’s orders as they sat in the boats, waiting to be hauled up and imprisoned. They were done.
* Elven- Fair Wind in Formaroth ** Elven- Water Dagger in Formaroth ***Because there’s no reliable translators and fact I would actually like people to read the conversation OOC, whenever they speak in another language it will be color coded. Plum is Elven, Coral is Mao, and more colors will be added as needed. Through these are the primary ones they use.
Herona had now arrived, and now had time to rest. They had gotten safely across the strait, and had set up camp just outside the city, and had littered the valley with tents. The tents were fairly large, and they would have been quite spacious if they have been for one person each, but it was not so. Each tent got four soldiers. That was the rule. There were many rules, such as curfew being once the sun set, soldiers are separated by sex, and you had to keep your things in an orderly fashion, but these were only official rules, for no one cared enough to enforce them. The only rules actually followed were things such as how much food and water you were given, how much sleep you were given, and how much weaponry and supplies you were given, and they were only broken when the officers thought to give you less. A young budding aristocratic had thought to ask Sir Daeleth why everything was so dirty and disorganized here in military life, and after Sir Daeleth had gotten done with beating him he told him that that that this was just the way of the army, and that he had better get used to it.
Herona was now beginning to get settled in. She had set up her tent with tent-mates, who were two women and one man who had somehow gotten lost and didn’t care enough to go back to where he actually belong, and now she was playing cards with them. It was all she could to try and get her mind off Eleira and Antony, for they were weighing on her mind so much that she knew she was grieving unhealthily. There was Aerda, a quite rambunctious girl who had half a mind to become the leader of the tent and half a mind to do nothing but play around. There was Seana, who was buried in her books and notebooks all the time because she had a dream that one day she would become literate and join up at one of the universities and study in the six liberal arts, except for now, as they were playing cards. Then lastly was the man Raynaud, who had one time been a thief and a rogue, and was quite clever and tricky, but in the end was not overly competent, which was how he ended up here. He was always winning at the card games, and Herona suspected he was cheating, but had no proof.
The encampment was running fairly smoothly, for something which was completely disorganized. Sir Glynda was in charge of meals, while Sir Sayer was in charge of drills and training. This had the result of Sir Glynda being much beloved and Sir Sayer being much hated. Though anyone who thought about it logically would have realized this was an unfair assessment, for the situation could have easily been reversed, no one thought about it logically. Sir Daeleth, who was technically in charge of the encampment until Lord Lycaon arrived, did nothing but abuse the aristocrats for being aristocrats and abuse the burghers for being merchants, repeating the popular adage, “No one likes a merchant!” Or at least he claimed it was a popular adage. Whatever the case, they were barely seen by the common recruits.
The training was of course the hardest, most aggravating, and most tiring part, for few of them indeed knew anything about war. They were not very disciplined by nature, for they had no prior training save in farming, and so were artificially given discipline through the fear of the officer’s wooden rods. They were given weapons, and Herona herself was given a spear, an axe, and a round wooden shield. Already she was slowly beginning to break into a routine of exercises, drills, practice, and sparring. She found herself not so great with a spear, but she was already starting to like the shield quite much. She was fine with the axe. The rich, both the aristocrats and the burghers, trained separately from the commoners were treated much better – or softer – and even with Sir Daeleth’s pronounced and vehement hatred of them they were quite comfortable. Herona knew nothing more than this, for the commoners and aristocrats did not mix at all unless one of the aristocrats, who usually had some basic swordsmanship training in their youth, wanted to show off and challenged one of the commoners to a duel, which the commoner inevitably lost. Herona today would have the same drill as she had been having the last few days, she supposed.
…
Herona had been hard at work today, now that she was making the passage from recruit to soldier. Sir Sayer had taken the role of drillmaster, and had pushed her and the rest of the recruits to the limit. They engaged in exercises, from stretches, to push-ups, to pull-ups, but worst of all was the running. Sir Sayer had made them run around the camp so many times Herona had lost count, and by the time Sir Sayer had declared they were done Herona and the other recruits had been exhausted.
For now, however, Herona had long recovered from the fatigue of her run. She had been by now given her weapons and armor. On herself she wore a layer of chainmail, a light brown cotton shirt, a dark-blue turtle-necked heavy coat, thick cotton pants, a belt that could carry many things, thick leather boots, and steel shoulder-plates. She had been given a halberd, a short-sword, and a shield. Herona preferred the sword over the halberd, and the more she used the shield the more it felt like it was merely an appendage to herself.
Herona was practicing, and all the other recruits were doing the same as her. The recruits of the lower class were separated from those of the higher class. The rich and privileged aristocrats and bourgeoisie did not have the harsh drillmasters and training regimen, and their training was more an exercise and instruction routine than a military drill. Yet this did not stop the nobles from looking down arrogantly at the lowborn recruits in their own sense of superiority, scorning the commoners’ “petty exercises.” There was one such man, a nobleman with strawberry-red hair, who came down in his suit of shining armor. He was standing by a black-haired nobleman, a minor aristocrat who belonged to a house who was loyal to the strawberry-haired noble, and stood loyally yet unamused by him. This strawberry nobleman, remembering the training of his youth, was eager to prove his own superiority over the rabble, and had challenged one of the recruits to a duel, an arrangement which was most unfair. The strawberry man launched the finishing strike against his young opponent, putting forth his wooden sword and striking against his chest, forcing him to fall to the ground. So the strawberry man was the victor. This was not an illegal occurrence. Though unusual this early on, duels between fellows, whoever they may be, was allowed.
“Just as I expected,” the strawberry man said. “You peasants are nothing but trash. Hah, I could do this all day! The rabble truly are like stones under my feet, that I can toss at will.”
The strawberry man was clearly having a great deal of fun, while the black-haired nobleman was unsure of how he would be able to commensurate for the damages his superior was doing. Herona was at the moment shining her halberd with a white handkerchief, and then held it firmly and struck it in front of herself with all her might. The strawberry man approached her, raising his dueling rod towards her.
“You! You next,” the strawberry man, smugly smiling. Yet when she looked him up at him, unresponsively, he said, “You, fight me.”
“Eh,” Herona said, tepidly.
“I am challenging you to a duel,” he said.
“Is that a thing that we do?” Herona said.
“Yes! Yes it is!” the strawberry man said. “It is, let me tell you. So come on now, peasant. Do you accept my challenge?”
“Well, I’m a little tired, m’lord,” Herona said. “But since you seem pretty kind of needy about it I reckon I’ll say yes.”
“Damn you,” the strawberry man said, tossing her a dueling rod. “I’ll show you a thing or two, I promise you, peasant.”
Herona caught the rod in her hand as the strawberry man tossed it. She then held up her shield in her left hand, and held the dueling rod in her other hand. She had no idea about this particular event in particular, but she knew that this man wanted to fight. She had no idea who this man in shing armor was, but if he wanted to fight he would give him what he wanted.
“Don’t you want a shield?” Herona said.
“I won’t need against the likes of you,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” Herona said.
“Have at you!” he said.
So he went forward, with his dueling rod in his hand, and Herona could not help but notice there was a certain clumsiness and indecisiveness in all his movements. His rod came down on to her, and so she lifted up her shield. The strawberry man then struck to her side, but he was too slow, and Herona saw it coming, and so she dashed forward, and pushed her shield against his chest. The strawberry man backed himself up, surprised, and then struck again at her shield. He struck again and again, but there was no opening he saw against Herona. Then at last Herona put her left arm out quickly and hit against the strawberry man’s chest with all the strength she could muster. Then she lifted up her rod, and brought it down to his leg. He went tumbling down to the ground. Then Herona hit him several times in the stomach and back until he screamed for mercy and surrendered.
“I’ll remember this!” the strawberry man said, and, picking up his dueling stick, ran away, with the black-haired nobleman following close behind.
“Huh,” Herona said. “That was kind of fun. Having a good day, m’lord!”
“Oh, shut up!” he said.
Finally the earliest arrivals of the bishops from across the Kingdom had come, for the vote for the High Priest or Grand Cleric. These new arrivals were six in number, and all of them came from the Sypius Plains and nearby Scassia. It was expected that soon some more bishops from Ralda, Coruneon, and Telmarion would arrive, but be that as it may, they had not arrived yet, and for now only those from Sypius and Scassia were here. And once again all the bishops met, the as when they had condemned the heretic Johannia of Telmarion, but the circumstances this time would be very different. Under the authority of Bishop Irenaeus, who as Bishop of Nyhem held authority greater than the other bishops during interregnums such as now, another special meeting of the bishops had been called. It had been all, of course, set up by Lycaon, who would make known now his deal with Lanaya, and his intention to keep it. Lycaon had told no one about this except Tydeus, but they would soon know.
The Bishops all sat at the seats around the circular chamber of the Synod, and were joined by a couple of theologians such as Tydeus and Bernarda Avicebrol, who unlike the bishops would not vote in the succeeding proceedings. Officially these theologians served only as theologians, but they were in fact influential beyond merely that, though the final decisions still depended on the choices of the bishop. Lycaon stood in the center of the Synod, where he could speak and address the bishops.
“Oh, honorable bishops,” Lycaon began. “You have been summoned because the Church is truly on the cusp of a new era. There are two things which gather our attention today, and let us deal with the most important first. As all of you must know, when we last gathered our decision was to condemn the heretic Johannia to her proper place at the flame. But because of the treachery of Bishop Karyn she has survived, and today the Church and the Kingdom has been thrown into increasingly greater chaos as Johannia and her acolytes spread her evil doctrine. This shall not stand. We may have no negligence, and no hesitation. Have the priests interact personally with their parishes, go yourself, and fill the people with passion for the orthodoxy and the gods like never before, and hatred for the heretics. Make the name of Johannia infamous. And we must raise a great army so that these heretic monotheists may be smashed utterly. For all of this, I will depend upon each of you, and soon those who have not yet arrived. Raise as many soldiers, filled with enthusiasm as they are, as you can.”
And to this there was an applause, though it was not a great applause, for there were few people there to do it. So for an hour they deliberated on the details of this plan, and the motion passed unanimously among the bishops. It was now a time of great desperation for the Church, and it would be known to all clergymen that it was so. They would preach publicly before the people in every village, city, and town, praising the gods and denouncing the heretics. And in animated festivals vibrant polytheism would triumph over monotheism. Then in this situation of emergency fresh soldiers would be recruited from every corner of the kingdom into the various holy orders of the Church.
“In comparison to the last motion what I next speak of is a small thing, but it must be spoken of nonetheless,” Lycaon began. “I have made a new arrangement with Lady Lanaya Dionisia, who truly represents the mages more than any other in land, considering her new appointment. As you are no doubt aware, the heretics despise mages irrationally, and have sought to harm them. The deal is, we, the Church, shall offer to mages who seek sanctuary at Churches which are known to be safe and tolerant for them, so they may be safe from those who we seek to give them harm. What the Church must do is clear. I will not deny, not in these hall, that the Church has, and nearly has always had, a problem with the mages. We must do away with this now. The mages are children of the gods as much as all others, and are endowed with their gifts divinely. So all our churches must be put to the test. If there is any priest which will not accept this fact, then they must be relieved of their duties and replaced by one who is more accommodating.”
Yet Bernarda was enraged, and she said, “Lord Lycaon, what you propose is madness! What this is is nothing but a persecution and harassment against the Church’s very own flock, where loyal servants of the gods shall be left destitute because of your own personal opinions.”
“We ought not to break an oath, as reasonable and good as it is,” Sir Lycaon said, for he held Bernarda’s outrage dismissively.
Yet Bernarda was not to be so dismissed as such, and she rose and said, “That is not all that I have to say to you, Lord Lycaon. The truth of this matter, no matter how you may try to whitewash it, is not a mere example of diplomacy. Let me simply ask, of your proposals with this Mage-woman, why should we accept it? Name even a single thing that is entailed in it that has a whit of advantage for the Church. I am sure no matter how hard and how subtle you think, you will be able to name a single one! Rather, what you propose is for the Church to go a whoring themselves to the Circle, at the cost of the Church’s own power and authority. And a man of your standing ought to know better than to be so trustful of Mages, for they are a crafty and untrustworthy lot. And all this proposal shall put many good priests out of work, their only crime being rightly distrustful of mages.”
“And so the necessity of the proposal becomes clear from your very words,” Lycaon said.
“Now that that is over,” Bishop Irenaeus said. “Let us put it to a vote.”
The vote went rather quickly and without any interruption, though as it progressed Bernarda became more and more distressed. It was five Yeas and three Nays. Bernarda was not surprised, however. She knew Lycaon, and she knew his influence within the Church was especially strong in Sypius, the place of his birth, and the surrounding areas. And no matter loud she protested she had failed to convince him. Bishop Irenaeus, she saw, was exceedingly glad, and Tydeus looked jovial as the vote came to a conclusion. What they actually were glad at was that this was yet another victory for Lycaon and his allies, which included them. Bernarda looked at Lycaon’s expression, however, and it remained unchanged, devoid of any real emotion.
As Bernarda was about to leave Lycaon walked passed Bernarda and said, “I presume we shall work together much in the future, against the heretics.”
“Of course,” Bernarda said, slightly indignant. “They are the enemy, and nothing so slight could prevent me from entering into a shared resistance of them with you and the others.”
Lycaon simply nodded and said nothing but “farewell” to her as he left. Then, with Tydeus walking at his side, Lycaon turned him and he said, “Tydeus, go to the King and make him aware of the situation.”
“At once, my lord,” Tydeus said.
Bernarda was not yet done here, however, for as she was leaving Bishop Marko approached her.
“What do you need, your eminence?” Bernarda said.
“What happened here today was unacceptable,” Bishop Marko said. “Not only was an outrageous proposal passed with flying colors this hour, but it was all due to the influence of that blasted Lycaon! To have a man who has not been ordained with any ranking among the clergy have such power among the Church is even worse than the current state of affairs. Something must be done about him.”
“All of that is very good, your eminence,” Bernarda said. “But what can we possibly do?”
The Bishop smiled, and said, “I am glad to hear it. Would you be willing to anything in order to get rid of Lord Lycaon’s odious influence?”
“Well, of course!” Bernarda said.
“Good,” Bishop Marko said. “When the time is right, I will contact you.”
“Very well,” Bernarda said.
Lycaon, surrounded by a troupe of his most trusted and elite knights, had finally made the long yet uneventful journey from Nyhem to the encampment just outside of Clarn on horseback. The Knights guarding the entrance to the encampment saw him coming and recognized their grandmaster immediately, and knelt to him.
“Lord Lycaon!” one of the Knights said. “Welcome.”
“Peace,” Lycaon said. “Is Sir Daeleth present?”
“Yes, my Lord,” the knight said. “He shall be brought at once.”
Lycaon made his way inside the encampment, and looked around. It seemed that everything seemed to be in order. It was then that Sir Daeleth, who was not mounted on a horse like Lycaon was, approached Lycaon, and was accompanied by Sir Glynda and Sir Sayer.
“Lycaon!” Sir Daeleth said.
“You mean Lord Lycaon,” Sir Sayer said.
“Everything seems to be in order,” Lycaon said.
“Yes, my Lord,” Sir Sayer said.
“Yet this sorry bunch will never be worth much in any real battle,” Sir Daeleth said.
“We’ve no choice,” Lycaon said. “There is no time to properly train them, so the battlefield will be their tutor.”
Katrina was screaming at first, first Ashala, now Claus had fallen to the wicked men under the so called lord Andrew Manshrew. She didn't care people called him 'honorable' or 'noble'. To Katrina he was evil, his armies had killed her new friends and her employer. Roogel almost needed to bother to keep her from running from his firm grasp. He held her around the torso with his left arm as he looked out a hatch in the wall intended for people to be able to look upon the enemies in relative safety.
-"Let me go! We need to save him!" Katrina was shouting with a hoarse voice, a hint of sorrow was beginning to shape her tone. -"It's no use, we saw the bull topple over him, there's nothing we can do." Roogel barked with a stern voice, but it was obvious he liked the situation roughly as little as the young blacksmith did. He however was much better at controlling his feelings and focused on his job.
-"But we need to... to... save...." About here her strained voice gave up and her tears began to swell because of the pain. She sobbed in a sloppy and filthy way. She was not used to the life as a mercenary at all and was not prepared for handling deaths like these. Roogel lost his temper here and groaned heavily, he didn't have time for this. He had a defence to organize here and he did not need his logistician sobbing like a child.
-"You, get her out of here!" He pointed at a trooper who saluted and dragged her out of Roogel's grip. He wasn't quick and strong enough however and she dodged the tired mans attempt and ran off. The man cursed and was beginning to give chase when Roogel cut in with a bark. -"Forget it! I need you back at overwatch. She'll probably survive in the meantime."
She ran crying through the keep, into some nicer portions of the stronghold. Rounded a few corners before collapsing with a clatter next to a nice red tinted wood table with brass decór. Her armour clattering as she took off the helmet and let it fall beside her, it wiggled a while like a bowl before settling. She did not know what to do, the food was far less than she wanted, the arrows were running low and the bolts were far too few to keep up a proper rate of fire. She wanted Claus to tell her what to do, she wanted him to make one of his poorly placed grim jokes and give her one of his telltale smirks. She realized she missed the smirks for some reason and a single laugh crept into her uncontrolled sobbing as she realized it. Why did she care so much? They weren't her family. Her uncle was fine back in Nyhem, he was probably making some swords for the war. Her uncle wasn't the man who comforted well. Just 'stop crying, you are making a fool of yourself.'
Perhaps, perhaps the fist was becoming her family? She hadn't thought about it until now. But what use was it if they were all going to die... She noticed a movement in a door over on the other side of the corridor, it was slightly open but when she realised it closed really fast. Katrina was sure she saw someone there. She controlled her tears and wiped them off with her leather gloves, making them a bit snotty. As she had gotten better control of herself she now kept a good look at the door which after a few seconds opened a tiny bit betraying someone's curiosity. -"Don't... don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." Katrina spoke with a sulking voice, wiping her face some more trying to make herself more presentable, albeit failing miserably. It took a few seconds, but then the door opened and a young boy with short black hair in a nice rich outfit in black with a nice embroidery in yellow thread on the edges stepped out. Took a few silent steps and stood in front of Katrina. -"Why are you sad?" He asked, rocking a bit back and forth. A bit surprised, Katrina tried to clear her throat and then answered.
-"My employer... and my friend.... he is dead." As she said this she had tears begin to swell up again. But the young boy just said. -"Do you mean that mercenary captain, Rotstein?... he kicked my brother. I don't know what i think of him." Katrina accidentally laughed once at the boys bluntness at the mention of how Claus had punished the Tuania boy Orland. -"But i don't think he's dead. My mother said that he is to stupid to die. Mum doesn't like him at all." The young boy kept going, Katrina could not help but smile a bit at the young boy's words. -"Besides, he is supposed to keep us safe, so mother said he'll be in a world of trouble unless he does so. Mother does not allow people to not keep their word." The situation had gone from poor to having a semblance of fun and innocence which Katrina felt she wanted to be part of. -"You mother seems very wise... I am Katrina Nikos, what's your name?" She asked the young boy, whom responded with a far more complex answer than she'd imagined. -"I am Anron Tuania, 3rd child of Catryn and Grandin Tuania, Telmarian noble and heir to the north-east province." To which Katrina only managed an. -"Oh..."
The two remained in silence for a while before Anron said. -"You would be pretty if you didn't cry. So you should stop crying since mr Rotstein is alive. Since if he wasn't, my mother would kill him..." First Katrina thought he had said something wrong, but then he made a mischievous smile which betrayed his joke. To which Katrina laughed followed by wiping her nose. -"Guess i'll have to stop then... my lord." She said to Anron, whom nodded his head in acknowledgement. Before they could speak more, someone came around the corner and saw the two in the corridor.
-"Anron, what are you doing out of your room... talking to one of the mercenaries." An older kind looking handmaiden with greying dark hair said while skeptically looking at Katrina as she took the hand of Anron. -"You know you are not allowed outside your room during the night." The woman with soft lecturing words said while she led the young boy away from Katrina. -"But it was so boring, and she was sad." He said as two rounded the corner, before getting out of sight he waved to Katrina whom waved back as they disappeared. Their words mumbled as they moved away in the distance.
Katrina stood up and took her helmet and put it on her head. Of course Claus was alive, can't argue with a noble. After all, Claus IS far too stupid to die. Katrina had gotten new vigor and was working on a plan.
Later. She had gotten hold of two volunteers, rather strong troopers. Both halberdiers since all the crossbowmen were guarding the walls while the halberdiers were kept in reserve to reinforce any point they were needed fast. The plan was simple, use the rope to rappel down to the kill ground, go and check Claus. Screw it what everyone was thinking after that.
They moved, not silently but more like they were supposed to be there. As they got to the wall they tied a sturdy knot and were prepared to start climbing as a crossbowman suddenly saw them. He looked at the trio, who looked extremely guilty, looked at the rope and then down into the killzone back to the trio. -"Seems like you owe me a drink later. Give 'em a rough one from me!" The trooper said as he gave an obvious wink before he kept walking with a whistle on his lips. Katrina could not believe it just happened but then just climbed down the rope into the killzone.
The massive bull was still there. The Manshrew forces had tried to move it but to no avail. It was far to heavy and the constant harrying with projectiles made the prospect difficult. The trio moved silently along the right side of the killbox as seen from the fortress. They made it to the bull without trouble. With effort, the two men used all their strength to tilt the head of the elephant while Katrine dragged Claus with all her strength. She barely dared look upon him fearing the gruesome visage, but she had decided that even if he was dead, the enemy wasn't going to get him. Not on her watch.
-"Hey! You are not supposed to be there!" A patrol of Manshrew troops had spotted the fist's corps-men. The two troopers drew their maces and began to shield Katrina as she dragged Claus's lifeless body towards the gate. One Mansrew archer shot towards them, missed. Another stood upon the dead bull and peppered the trio with arrows, one pinged of a breastplate, one struck a thigh which had the trooper hiss and begin to limp. It was looking grim when two more archers crested the elephant. But as they nocked their arrows all the hatches on the gate suddenly opened and even the gate opened slightly letting light out into the killbox. A loud rumbling voice echoed into the area. -"You are all idiots! You will be reprimanded to the realm of Hizreus for this!" The words turned out to be Roogels, luckily they also heralded a hail of crossbow bolts which cut down the Manshrew patrol.
In a few seconds, they had managed to get Claus's body into the fortress and were safe and the wounded trooper was being treated. Katrina panted heavily but was otherwise happy with the effort even if she had to face Roogel's wrath later.
Cave West of Greenwood, Ralda Featuring: Percival, Johannia, Sir Oswyn, Eclipse. Collab with @ZB1996.
Naught but a few days had passed before a small army of knights, countrymen, and clergy had readily gathered under the banner of the church, unified in their faith and desire to secure peace in their homeland. The Defense Coalition of Ralda had formed impromptu, practically overnight, for their commander had emphasized the need for swiftness. Already some were affectionately calling themselves the Knights of Eclipse as they marched forth from Greenwood toward the unsuspecting enemy hideout in the west. Eclipse himself had tried to correct the term, but the best he could do was to re-direct any and all praise to the Eight who would soon deliver them. For now, the name was circulated only in whispers.
Eclipse called for silence as the battalion closed in on the enemy encampment. A large field of grassland stood between them and the side of a small mountain where a rockslide had buried much of the land below it centuries ago. A small plume of smoke rose up from where a shallow cave remained open to the outside world. Hoofprints and tracks marred the ground below them, confirming the trail to the raiders up ahead.
Eclipse halted his grey steed and looked to Sir Oswyn, Father Mackery, Percival, and Clara beside him. "We have arrived. The plan remains the same. Father Mackery and his men will flank left, Percival and Clara will take their group and flank right. Sir Oswyn is to remain here with our largest division while I ride out and offer terms for surrender. If all goes well, we will surround them and see them bound and marched back to Greenwood for trial as individuals. If they deign to try their fate against us, then there will be bloodshed. We will have no choice but to kill any who refuse to submit to justice." The look in the paladin's eyes was stern, and as fetching as he was, it was clear he had fought before, possibly many times. It was almost hard to believe, but there was blood on those white hands.
The sun was high when the flanking groups departed and Eclipse set off at a trot directly toward the cave. Shouts could be heard as the bandits quickly attempted to muster in response to the knight's approach. The middle army could be seen a charge distance behind the knight as he came bravely forth, a pole-axe held vertical in his right hand and the sparked ring of the eclipse emblazoned over his chest. Eclipse raised his hand and halted his horse. Bows were drawn in his direction but held as if by some unseen force as the knight began to speak.
The white knight of the obscured sun spoke loudly and clearly. "Anjervine raiders!" He addressed them. "I am Eclipse of the holy church! I and my army have come in names of the eight gods in defense of the people of Ralda. I offer you the chance to surrender. Submit yourselves to justice for your crimes, return what you have stolen from the people of Ralda. Do this and receive mercy, or you will die here and now upon this grassland. What say you?"
The enemy was clearly caught with its pants down as they looked back and forth to each other without a clear and immediate answer, yet as the moments ticked on, more and more of their number began to emerge from the darkened hallow of the rock behind them.
A random arrow fired at Eclipse and grazed his shining plate with a clang. "To Hell with justice!" Came the cry as Eclipse slammed down his visor and stirred his mount into a run back to his allies. The bandits seemed compelled to follow suit and haphazardly charged after the galloping knight, not realizing the crucible of death that awaited them.
Eclipse rode up to Sir Oswyn and signaled the attack, turning to cut his own first bloody pass through the foolhardy Anjervines. * Johannia were not far from Sir Eclipse and Sir Oswyn as they began to march up. Johannia and Percival’s chain of command was slightly complicated. Johannia herself never publicly asserted the fact that Percival was her bodyguard, but he still continued to act like it. Even so, Percival gave nominal leadership over the unit that they led, though Johannia relied on him for proper commanding, for she knew nothing of war. As they got closer to the bandits hideout Eclipse had them halt. Following his orders, with Johannia and Percival and their unit flanking right while Sir Oswyn would remain where he was. This was a fact Sir Oswyn appreciated, for it meant that he would be able to charge straight through the enemy at the front.
Then a stray arrow came from the bandit’s side and if Eclipse had not given the signal then Sir Oswyn would have come charging anyway. Sir Oswyn himself instigated the charge among his knights and the fresh recruits which were around them, shouting, “Charge, men! Today glory is ours to take.” Then with himself at the forefront, Sir Oswyn and his knights led the charge as the militia came from slightly behind them, and the arrows of the bandits could not pierce the plate armor of the knights as they came charging ahead. The Signal soon reached Johannia and Percival and their unit as well. They came running up towards the cave as well, and would soon reach the flank of the bandits at their cave. * The bandits ran out from cave carrying whatever weapons they could gather quickly to their sides. The cave itself fortunately wasn't very deep, and most of the raiders had been camping around outside of it. There were several horses tied to trees off to Johannia and Percival's side that could possibly be loosed to prevent the bandits from using them during the fight. All in all, there were about 50 raiders in total that had to be dispatched, but odds were good. The enemy may have been stronger and better trained, but they were far less prepared. Some of them certainly were swordsmen, and about a dozen had deadly bows.
As soon as Eclipse hit the line of his forces, he spun his horse and charged together with Sir Oswyn back at the oncoming raiders. It was about at that moment that the enemy realized it had been engaged from the flanks as well. They had been outsmarted!
Eclipse's halberd, already a deadly weapon, was truly awesome when combined with the might of a charging steed. A single swing of its axe-like head bit deep into flesh, crushing chests and limbs with every strike, and the momentum instantly knocked down any unmounted foe. Decapitation was too easy, being only a simple matter of aiming for the crook of the neck. As long as he kept moving, riding out for distance each time before the next charge, Eclipse was immortal. Arrows pinked off his steel armor and off his steed's barding as the bandits made their best effort to take down the most dangerous opponents first. Eclipse did the same, riding straight for the most burly and brutal of the bandits' swordsmen who pressed against the armed farmers of Greenwood.
With a sickening crunch, the halberd landed. Blood began pouring down the chest of a large bandit who's head was now hanging off his shoulders at an odd angle. In an instant, the body toppled ingloriously to the side, not yet aware of its own death. The young man in front of the falling corpse watched in shock and with much relief as his enemy fell before him as if in direct answer to his prayers. He had been saved. He looked up in time to briefly catch the eye of Eclipse as the legend himself rode past. The image of that moment would forever be burned into the young man's memory, faith itself embodied in the shape of a knight, that even in great darkness, there is hope. * Percival and Johannia’s unit went charging on the flank of the bandits. They came among the trees where the bandits had tied their horses, and when Percival saw this it was obvious what to do. He thought it was quite a blessing that the bandits had left for him such a weakness that was so easy to exploit. He ordered his soldiers to cut the horses from the trees. They did so, and the horses went running away.
“Let’s try and see ‘em mount now,” Percival said. “Keep moving, boys!”
Sir Oswyn stood next to Eclipse, both of them clad in thick and shining steel plate armor, as they charge on ahead together, smashing against the raiders. It was then that Percival led his soldiers to firmly attack the strength. Percival stood in the vanguard of his unit. He drew his sword forward, and aiming his sword upwards at a bandit who was closing in on him, struck at the bandit’s neck, and it went clean through, and the bandit went down to the ground decapitated. He thought that it was quite a disappointment that he was sober.
“Keep at it, boys,” Percival said. “They are but men!”
The bandits had been caught by surprise, and were not prepared. Further, the militiamen were eager to regain their homes, and to return life to what it had been, and now they had it in their hands to do just that. So with spears and axes in their hands they marched forth, cutting through limbs, sinews, and flesh, not faltering even when some of their own died.
Elsewhere, at the front of the battle Sir Oswyn saw the great swings of Eclipse’s halberd, and swore to himself that he would not be outdone. So riding upon his stead Sir Oswyn charged ahead with his sword firmly in hand, and as his horse trampled over the bodies of the bandits ahead he slew a bandit who was at his side with his sword, aiming downward and cutting through the bandits throat. And behind him stood his fellow knights who were doing the same, and the militia who were behind them. * Bodies littered the field, clustered in parts, staining the mud red beneath them. The air was filled with the sounds of shouting and the clamor of weapons, until a horse's frightened squeal pierced the cacophony. Far from all of this, a pristine white cloud rolled imperceptibly slowly against a vivid blue sky. The heavens above were the very same as had been there for endless thousands of years, soft-looking pure white shapes that inspired the hopeful dreams of young children, ever free from the crucible of life on the world below. The sky was the eternal easel of the divine, captivating and resplendent for those who's eyes lifted upward.
The numbers of the bandits fell sharply, far sharper than the losses on the side of the Raldans, and it wasn't long before the audacity of the enemy began to waiver. The Anjervine bandits noticeably began to thin as those on the outskirts of battle considered their chances for escape. From atop his exhausted steed, Eclipse glimpsed a few of the enemy turning away as he stopped and scanned the field.
Some distance ahead, Eclipse sighted a few of the Anjervine raiders still embroiled in battle in his path. They were being left behind, abandoned by their unscrupulous allies, and the look on their faces spoke of rage, regret, and fear. One of them was not much more than a child, an innocent, a naive being wrapped up in the regrettable conflicts of others all in an effort to prove his worth to his makers. There would be no escape for him now, and he seemed to have accepted that. Eclipse knew simply by looking at him that he was fighting only for his life.
Only the barest rest did Eclipse allow his huffing mount before stirring him on toward those abandoned raiders in a display of merciless and inevitable retribution. The face of the young Anjervine lad went white at the sight of his approach, which was exactly the response Eclipse had been hoping for. As he lifted his halberd, a faint light began to emanate around him like a halo, a magical affect that, when timed right, shook a sinner to the core of his soul. But rather than bring down the righteous arc of death promised by justice, Eclipse broke his steed's charge and called out to the trembling enemies before him. "Run! Flee you foolish Anjervines! Timtos has abandoned you, and yet Leplo has spared you!"
Seeing the opening, the enemy broke with no questions asked. The few old ruffians that would have refused to yield quickly found that they had no choice but to fold as their more cowardly allies gave way around them. The raiders splintered immediately, running for hills and surrounding forest with nothing but the clothing on their backs rather than be captured or killed. Eclipse had single handedly brought the battle to an abrupt end, allowing the escape of at least a dozen Anjervines, but simultaneously sparing twice as many lives.
"Fall on your knees at the next town you arrive, and beg the mercy of the Raldan people you have wronged!" The light around the knight faded as he called after them, his horse flaring its nares with hot breath. Perhaps they would heed his words, perhaps not, but either way, the battle was over and they would not be coming back anytime soon.
A cheer went up, pained and exhausted though it was. Good people had died today and would be mourned. There were wounded to care for and corpses to take back home for burial. The treasures stashed inside the small cave would be reclaimed and redistributed and peace would return. More than that however, was the faith in the gods that had been restored. The church at Greenwood would soon have a great resurgence in believers.
Eclipse dismounted and took stock of his closest allies. He praised the gods to see they were all alive. As they gathered, he looked at each of them in acknowledgement. "This is victory, my friends. The gods are with us, as they always were, and there can never be any end to our thanking them. There will be a celebration, but right now, we must take care of the wounded and the dead. I will send riders ahead to Greenwood to bring back assistance. You fought bravely and with great faith in your hearts. I am greatly blessed to have been given such noble allies." * Sir Oswyn was returning to the village of Greenwood with his knights and the militiamen that surrounded them, with Johannia and Percival surrounding them. All were cheering still at their victory, and though they mourned the loss of their men, the loss was tempered by their victory. Sir Oswyn’s mind, however, was not greatly distracted even by the jubulance of his men, and still had on his mind Eclipse. He had fought with greater magnificence and power than he had been expecting, and the sight of the light that had shone around his head had not escaped Sir Oswyn’s notice.
So approaching Eclipse, Sir Oswyn said, “Sir Eclipse, you are truly a holy man! I saw how the light shined above your head. Truly the gods have chosen you as one of their champions. So if I may be so bold, I extend to you an invitation into the Holy Order of Saint Elenor. In fact, I extend the invitation to all those who would wish to join!”
Elsewhere, Johannia was looking over with suspicious looks, and was close enough to overhear the Knight’s words. Lycaon’s army would certainly be getting at least a few recruits today, she thought. Yet for now it was no concern of hers. She soon looked away, and was now thinking of her journey ahead, to
“You hearing this, madam?” Percival said.
“Yes,” Johannia said. “But it is no concern of ours.”
“It surprise me you’d say that,” Percival said. “Considering, well, who these people are.”
“There’s nothing we can do about them,” Johannia said. “Let them go. As for now, I’ve grown more than tired of this place. I’d prefer to be someplace where I can be without have to look over my shoulder every day.”
“Hmm, fair enough,” Percival said. “Shall we leave at once.”
“Yes,” Johannia said. * A brief cheer went up behind the knights as Sir Oswyn extended his invitation to the Raldans of Greenwood. Eclipse smiled and bowed his head slightly. "You honor me greatly, dear brother. The holy knights of the capitol are renown for their valor and piety throughout the land. I see no reason for me to hold myself apart from them, seeing as our fealty and mission are one in the same. If you feel I exemplify the order's precepts and am worthy, I would be honored to join you." Eclipse placed a hand over his heart and offered a bow on horseback. An official indoctrination would undoubtedly follow, but in the spur of the present moment, it was at least an informal gesture of the gratitude and humility he knew was due.
The people listening within earshot behind them seemed to be happy with this.
Eclipse carried on the conversation, explaining his concerns. "The will of the gods has called me to Nyhem, Sir Oswyn, since even before you and I had met. News of the disorder caused by the heretic Johannia has crossed borders and reached great distances. It is my mission to investigate this woman as well as her claims against the church." The blond knight lowered his voice an octave to reflect the seriousness of his next words. "Woe be unto those for whom I may find any of Johannia's accusations are true, for the wrath of the gods is certain, and I have given myself to be one of their many swords." The implication was clear, that Eclipse moved with intent to root out any evil before him even if it meant confronting established authority. It was dangerous.
The darkness left his voice quickly, like water evaporating off a hot rock in the sun, and he spoke matter-of-factly. "The innocent must be protected, brother, whether they be mages or not, and it is our duty as the capable vassals of the noble gods to see to it."
Within a few days, a surprising 20 or so of the Raldan Defense Coalition, informally calling themselves the Knights of Eclipse, elected to follow their inspiring new leader to Nyhem to join the Holy Order of Saint Elenor as he did. Father Mackery stayed behind and took charge of the remaining forces in Greenwood to lead them spiritually and expand their organization as a holy order to the other poorly-defended towns of western Ralda. The church was building a grass-roots army.
"Damn the gods" Maror yelled as he bashed his fist against the war room table. Not only had the siege on the castle failed but it had worsened their situation. The corpse of elephant had collapsed right outside the gates preventing the alliance's forces from ramming the gate. The Manshrew soldiers had tried to moved the elephant, and recover the heavy Armour while at it, but Claus's forces were making it impossible. This had put Maror in a foul mood. "Or rather damn that Claus Rotstein, how do you beat a guy who literally throws himself at a armored elephant...AND WINS?" "We needn't worry about him anymore" Serala replied calmly, though she too was frustrated she, unlike her brother, was able to control her temper "Based off the reports it is likely he was killed during his suicidal attack, likely crushed by the elephant given we have yet to find his body". "I suppose that is something to be grateful for" Daeron replied bleakly. Unlike the others he didn't seem to be fully engaged with the situation at hand. He hadn't heard news about Hemala for some time and still no news about Aulus. Serala looked sadly at Daeron before turning to face Andrew. "So what is out plan my lord"? The truth was Andrew was wondering that himself. Things were not looking good; the concord simply had too many ally's and taking Clarm was the only hope Andrew had for delaying Patrick's forces while he dealt with House Wulfrick and Greensworth. After remaining silent for a while he finally spoke "My friends, I am afraid only one path remains open to us. We must abandon the siege and prepare to face Patrick's army" Silence fell in the tent, no one knew what to say. After a minute or so of complete silence Daeron finally broke the silence "Forgive me for speaking to you in this way, but surely this the most foolish action we could take. Patrick's army is bigger, better armed and better trained then ours. Surely we should return to Coruneon and liberate it from house Wulfrick"? "We can't just give up on Clarm" Maror retorted "after all this effort to take it we can't give up now" "Listen" Andrew said firmly as Maror fell quiet "Even if we throw everything we have at Clarm there is no way we can take the stronghold before Patrick arrives, throwing more soldiers at clarm will just waste more lives" Andrew then turned to Daeron "Daeron, I know you want to save your homeland, but the moment we leave Telmarion Patricks forces will be right behind us, meaning we will have to fight both Imperial armies at once, a suicidal battle if ever there was one. We have no choice but to fight Patrick here and hope we can win. Besides we do still have..." at this a messenger came in from outside the tent. He bowed quickly before making his announcement "Forgive the intrusion my lord, but a mercenary captain by the name of lady grim has arrived with a force of over two thousand soldiers. She wishes to meet with you" "Send her in" Andrew said. He dared not leave her waiting, at this point he needed all the help he could get. The Lady Grim and Tokugawa Ieyasu waited quietly outside the tent, ignoring the stares and mutterings of the soldiers around them. A platoon of Samurai stood at ease behind them, exchanging glances with the Manshrew soldiers. No one spoke to the other until the man who had gone into the Command tent returned to bowed to Rhaetia, gesturing for her and Tokugawa to enter the tent.
She swept past him without a word, leaving a lingering scent of roses as she went. Tokugawa on the other hand nodded his thanks and gave the man a brief smile that went unnoticed as the servant stared after Rhaetia, his jaw slightly open.
They stepped into the command tent and stopped, surveying the gathered officers. Rhaetia, tall, beautiful, and utterly untouchable, did so with a dispassionate eye. Tokugawa swept the room, noting the fighting men who stood before them and smiling slightly, his darker skin and jet black hair in stark contrast to the Lady Grim and her almost marble white appearance.
The Lady Grim offered a curt nod to the assembled group and spoke with a precise, almost musical tone. "My lords. The Grim Company has arrived." As Lady Grim entered the tent all eyes were instantly fixated on her. Her beauty was of no exaggeration, and Andrew suspected that tales of her ferociousness told no lie either. "Welcome Lady Grim" Andrew said as he gave her a bow "I am honored to hear that you have chosen to fight on our side. Tell me what soldiers have you brought to help us in our struggle"?
"My lord I bring a force of two thousand five hundred men all of whom are veteran fighters, from Seikastsu Samurai to Elven mages" Lady grim replied proudly with a smile on her face. She knew the Grim Company was one of the best Mercenary legion's currently in Formaroth, and she believed that she had the right to boast about it. "All of whom are willing to fight and die for me"
"Very Impressive my lady" Andy said as he smiled at the passion that Lady Grim spoke with "I am sure the Grim company will be a great asset to the grim company, that I have no doubt about"
"I am grateful for the compliment, however I must remind you we do not offer ourselves out for free, and our payment isn't cheap either. We require at the very least fifty gold in exchange for our services" Lady Grim said, though she had asked for a considerable amount she knew that the Alliance needed her men for the upcoming battle.
Andrew paused for a moment, while he was satisfied with the offer Lady Grim had given him had hesitated for another reason: Though it was rare, mercenary companies had been known to retreat and abandon their employer should the battle turn sour. Andrew knew he had to ensure that the Grim Company remained faithful to the very end. "I am happy to pay this, and to further ensure your loyalty I shall offer you land in Uzgob; Kerak Castle a small yet highly defensible castle within my lands. Should the grim company obtain an entire castle, they will immediately gain a huge amount of recognition and power here in Formaroth. Your fame as mercenaries will exceed even that of the steel fist.
Upon hearing this the normally stoic Lady grim's eyes widened. An mercenary company owning land was not too uncommon but owning an entire castle was unheard off. This would not only make her the most famous mercenary leader in Seikastsu but in all of Formaroth as well. She looked round at Tokugawa who nodded violently in agreement before she continued to speak "I am elated by this deal, and gratefully accept, I am glad I decided to side with you Lord Andrew, I doubt the concord would ever be so generous. I shall prepare the men for battle, I promise we will not fail you"
To this Andrew gave Lady Grim a bow "I thank you Lady Grim, may this partnership continue for years to come".
Aulus is on a ship heading to Nyhem There are two ghosts with him o.o He has a flashback to his escape - it was a dark, storymy night, and no one was wandering about He was having a bad time all round, when thunder struck and he saw the ghosts He got scared and ran off, but slipped and fell - and didn't wake up till morn He was bloody but unbowed, and continued his journey He stayed in a forest for a while till he got bored Then he stowed away on a ship to Nyhem He got off at Nyhem and joined the jolly tramps of the dockyard
Coruneon and Nyhem, 503 A.R
'Drink, m'Lord?' the soldier asked. Aulus looked up and nodded. 'Yes please, bloody good stuff,' he said as he raised his cup. The soldier smiled and a small chuckle left his mouth.
'That it is!' he said as he raised a dagger to his throat and ripped it open. Crimson liquid spurted out into the cup and sprayed Aulus' face. The young man smiled, bringing the drink to his lips and savouring the rustic liquid.
'Seconds, m'Lord,' the second soldier stepped out from behind the first, his haunting dead eyes boring into Aulus and a frozen hollow smile on his lips. Aulus shivered and shook his head.
'N-no, no more. Please.' He muttered. His eyes opened slowly and he looked around in the darkness. The ship was rocking gently from side to side and he was shivering and wet. A cold sweat ran down his back and he brought the cloak tighter around his neck. They kept coming back - he saw them in his sleep, those gashed necks, and he sometimes thought he saw them even when he was awake.
'Oh no no, ye're just imaginin' things, that's all,' Aulus turned his head swiftly at the white glow at his sight's periphery. But there was nothing there other than the gently rocking lamp. He gulped and pulled himself against the wooden wall of the ship's hull.
His escape from Castle Calchester had been rather simple - he followed the secret route to a hidden trapdoor in the rocky outcrops that surrounded the formidable fortress. It was dark and rain was ravaging the landscape - which was just as well, it would make his escape doubly easy. It would, however, mean that any sense of direction was hopelessly lost. Not that he knew in which direction to go anyway. After working out where the castle was, he turned his back to it and began walking. His cloak was drenched in mere minutes, and his booted feet sank sometimes into mud and slipped sometimes on wet rock. Despite his hood, the water rain down his face and dripped off the end of his nose. From time to time he wiped rain from his forehead to prevent the irritating flow from overwhelming his eyes. The heat of his body and the cold of his wet clothing came together to create an altogether uncomfortable and soggy feel everywhere - but perhaps his somewhat drunk and dazed state helped him ignore that to an extent.
'Well, this is bloody shit,' he muttered as he continued walking aimlessly, 'had to be an idiot about it - I coulda just gone with Hemala and the others; but no! Had to be stubborn, had to swing my-' at this point lightning lit up the skies and thunder sounded, and so his quiet mutterings were silenced by nature's deafening roar. 'Roar roar roar, that's all you can do, isn't it. Stupid rain, stupid thunder - think I'm afraid of you? I am not afra-!' Once more, the heavens were alight and their fury became manifest. Aulus stood awestruck, and in that moment he thought he had seen, as heaven's light lit up the world, two white figures just before him. He gulped and took a step back, his eyes darting in the darkness. He reached with a numb hand for his sword.
'Won't be needing that-'
'Not of much use...'
'No, not of much use at all, is it?'
Moaning in fear, Aulus sprang forward with a start and began running. Any other man would have slipped and fell, stumbled and staggered, but Aulus' balance - even when half drunk - was quite spectacular. Even as he stepped on a slippery rock, he unconsciously shifted so as to ensure he remained upright and continued onward at speed.
Aulus roared in fear and fury, 'be quiet dammit! Damn you!' and he quickened his pace until he was running. And in his fear and anger, his focus left him and he slipped. And he saw red. Then he saw black. Then he did not see at all.
He had woken up wet and in pain. But the sun was out and after wiping some dried blood from his face he found that he had not been too seriously hurt by last night's slip. But he was hungry and had a raging headache from all the drinking. By all things holy, he could not even remember the last time he was this sober. Grunting something unintelligible, he sat up and squinted due to the brightness of the late morning sun. His stomach rumbled in greeting.
'G'morning t'you too,' he managed before getting to his feet and stumbling forward a few steps before falling into a regular trudge. If memory served, there was a small town not too far from Calchester which he could potentially stop at. But the more intelligent thing to do would be to avoid people in general and hunt for food instead. He was sober (and intelligent) enough to go with the latter. Eventually, after perhaps a week or so of travel, rocky terrain gave way to forest, and prey was so available here that he seriously considered simply residing in the forest. It was well-hidden, food was abundant, he could easily shelter himself against the weathers, and water was certain to be available where trees grew. And for a good few days, he did stay there. He stank like a cesspit and most likely looked like he'd just crawled out of one - and at points, he felt like he in fact had - but he was for the most part happy to just focus on the mundane little things. And the two voices (and the white on the periphery of his vision) provided surprising (if not entirely welcome or understood) comfort and companionship. The goodness of nature even rid him of his pressing need for a drink after some time.
But by all things holy, it was dull.
I mean, sure, there were some interesting things. You could sit and watch a tree if you were so inclined. Or perhaps, if you required more stimulation, a piglet running after its mother might provide some entertainment (until you skewered both with an arrow, because dammit you're hungry). If you are of the more daring variety, you might take it up a level and try to climb a tree or build a little hovel beneath one. If you are crazy, you might go poke a sleeping bear. (Aulus did not quite want to die, so he resisted the temptation). But after a while, it all just got rather repetitive and tedious. A man like Aulus needed the town, the city. He had never lain with a woman (that damn Ani never let him take it that far) but gods only knew any health lad appreciated looking at a fine piece of meat!- they had made men that way, after all, had they not? And it was only right - and a display of piety and gratefulness - to utilise what the gods had given all healthy men. Or something like that anyway.
And what was more, the serenity of the forest gave him too much time to think. He thought about Daeron and how worried he would be when news reached him of Calchester's fall, how disappointed he would be when Hemala was reunited with him and told him of Aulus' decision to remain behind. He was the sword Daeron had hammered into shape so that he could one day stand beside him - and he had betrayed his intended purpose.
'Gah!' He would mutter when the heavy thoughts got too much, and he would kick or hack at a tree to get his mind off it all. And so, in pursuit of adventure and distraction from his thoughts - and those two voices were beginning to drive him a bit crazy anyway - he left the forest and contninued his aimless journey. He soon discovered that he was very close to the coast - and where there was coast, one invariably found a port.
'You wanna go to a big city?' A sailor he stopped asked in confusion. 'Yeah, the biggest city there is - lots of drink, lots of women, lots of fun. That kind of place.' 'Uh...well, I dunno about all that. But if yer lookin' for big an' important cities, ye can't go wrong with Nyhem.'
When he asked around, it became apparent that the asking prices to take him to Nyhem were beyond him - that is, he had no money at all. When he offered to work by way of payment, the captains he asked scoffed at the idea of taking on a boy who was more likely to be a liability than any help. That left him with no option other than to stowaway.
The first few times he was quickly discovered and kicked quite firmly off. This was his fifth attempt, and this time he had actually managed to stay aboard without discovery until the ship had set off. He only hoped they would not find him during the journey - he been told terrible things about what happens to those they discover.
'First they gut ya,' 'Then they flay ya,' 'Then they scalp ya,' 'Then they tie ya,' 'Then they whip ya,' 'Then they feed ya...' 'To the sharks!'
As it were, he was not discovered. When the ship came into port at Nyhem, he waited some hours until all was quiet before sneaking off. He was dirty, he stank, his stubble had become a scraggly beard. Overall, he fit in rather well with the dockyard tramps he made himself at home with.
'Y'know, that's a pretty blade ya got on ya. Could sell 'at for a pretty penny. That bow too...' one of them said to him after he had been sat next to him for an hour or so. Aulus looked at him, all too familiar with the greedy look in the man's eyes.
'Look 'ere mate. I'm a trained solja me. You come anywhere near me sword with 'ose scrubby hands o' yours and ye'll be leavin' with no hands. Ya get me?' The tramp gave Aulus a sheepish look and nodded.
'Ah get ya, ah get ya. Jus' sayin, thas all...' and the tramp got up grumpily and went to sit with friendlier - and less dangerous - company. For his part, Aulus was perfectly comfortable remaining where he was through the afternoon, and when night fell he wrapped his cloak more tightly around himself and, gripping his dagger beneath the cloak just in case he got a surprise awakening, allowed himself to sleep. The morning would bring with it much that was new, and he was not all that sure whether he would be ready for it at all. In fact, he was very suddenly aware that he had no idea what he was doing here and why he had come.
'Bloody hell, this is all pretty shit, all things considered,' he muttered sullenly to himself. 'It is,' 'It really, really is,' 'It has to be, you see,' 'If even the dead think so.'
He made to look at his constant companions, but their white light disappeared - as it always did - when he turned towards it. These two were depressing company, that was for sure. 'We're dead, what d'you expect?' 'And it's not like you had no hand in causing it, y'know,' 'You had a rather sharp point in causing it, to be exact.'
Aulus rolled his eyes, sighed, and finally closed them. The sounds of the waves did a good job of keeping the two out his dreams. For the most part.
It had been a rattling experience for Dyril’s and Kiseo’s first time out to sea, but one that was expected. Their memories were burned with the early loss of the Nen Sigil and captain Revion, the ship burned by ruthless pirates and lost to the sea’s depths with no idea what had happened to the Elven sailor or his crew. It was an unsettling loss for Dyril most of all since she met and personally hired the elf on his reputation.
After the danger had passed, the Bein Thúl firmly in Formaroth waters, she had taken upon herself to bury her nose into her voyage’s ledger. Her mind calculated the loss in vivid estimates as her hand dripped the quill end into the inkwell before she touched to parchment. Her wrist delicately twitched and fingers pressed the end into the surface, usually elegantly penmanship scratched in the numbers. In all her years, especially under the apprenticeship under her uncle, she learned numbers never lied like people did. They only spoke of what was there even if it was hidden. It was one of the few things she had came to trust in this lifetime.
She bit her lower lip as she struggled with the ship’s movement, waves pounded the hull and churned her insides to and forth at unexpected moments. Her usually elegant penmanship was quickly becoming horrid chicken scratch causing her to inhale sharply. Over time, she had adjusted enough to make it at least legible, she loathed the appearance in comparison to her ‘land bound’ writing.
Needing a much deserved break, she casually sat the quill upon the groove built into the table and leaned back in her chair. The palms of her hands pressed deeply into the sockets of her eyes and rubbed. It was unladylike action, a fact that gnawed at her, but the frustration had overwhelmed her enough it was unavoidable. The sound of foot falls caught her attention causing Dyril to quickly sit upright and turned to the source. It was Kiseo. Upon seeing the Mao, Dyril’s right hand gestured her inside causing the now ex-slave to quickly react. Without wasting much time, Kiseo quickly thumped the door shut with her back and stepped to the half elf’s side promptly. Her eyes flickered over the numbers and letters, reading them surprisingly well, before she turned her attention to her mistress. Though they were in foreign waters, where slavery was abolished, the Mao knew she wouldn’t survive on her own and chose willingly to continue her services to Dyril.
Freedom wasn’t worth much if she couldn’t live long enough to enjoy it.
“The crew seems to have taken a liking to you,” Dyril said in the Mao’s native tongue, her hand jerked to Kiseo’s present appearance and lack of presence within the cabin.
Sheepishly, Kiseo smiled with her black lips (as much as a Mao could anyways), “Yes. They are kind and seem willing to teach their ways. It was interesting to learn the terms of sailing but is unlikely that I will never dare to try such a thing for a living, mistress.”
Dyril nodded in agreement. The only reason they were even sailing was to establish a connection with her human family and trade what few goods they still had. Continuing to sit there, Dyril thoughtfully considered a question then discarded it. The thoughts of a Mao weren’t important enough to her to bother with as she turned back to Kiseo.
“You came to interrupt my work, was there a reason? Speak,” Some habits didn’t die easily while a commanding tone edged into Dyril’s voice for answers.
Dropping the relaxed atmosphere the two shared earlier, Kiseo swallowed briefly then replied, “Yes, Híril. We’ve just arrived in port and Captain Horus advised best to make arrangements in the The Little Reed Inn.”
“The Little Reed Inn?” Dyril repeated the title with a questionable air over it.
Kiseo nodded, then explained, “Yes, Híril. I double checked it and I asked the Captain about the name. It’s a respectful and higher end establishment that had humble beginnings, a fact the keeper reminds others by keeping the name. However, the quality is insisted on being excellent.”
“Very well, you’re dismissed…,” Dyril turned to her desk before she paused, and quickly added causing the Mao to pause in her movement to the door, “Oh, Kiseo. One thing, you’ll practice your Formaroth while here and only Mao when it’s needed. Don’t forget that.”
Kiseo thought for a moment over the correct phrasing, “Try… I will? Understand.”
“It still needs work, but suitable enough for now.”
“Yes Híril, keep practice I do.”
It was a rare occurrence indeed, that Lanaya was happy to be traveling by carriage, yet this day, it had occurred. The docks were, in her mind, the most unsavory place in the city, full of some of the worst examples of mundane greed, ignorance and brutality… But today business drew her here. Accordingly, she had chosen to make use of not only her carriage, to keep her from having to notice the scum on the docks, but also her newly appointed personal Knight of St. Elenor - whose burnished steel plate and church markings ensured that no heretic would dear waylay the carriage bearing the Thale coat of arms.
A guard had been sent ahead to inform the ship’s captain that his passenger would need to meet with the Magister upon arrival. Lana hoped he had successfully delivered the message, for she truly despised the smell that permeated this part of the city and wished to be gone as soon as possible.
Dyril moved through the bustling crew, their hands rushed for ropes and brought down the sails that threatened to flap in the surprisingly strong wind. Her eyes narrowed upon the captain as she marched her way through. Each time she carefully paused to avoid the working men and women, their attention elsewhere, as not to disturb their current work. Kiseo, naturally, moved quietly behind her with cat like grace.
Captain Thebes, a man in his late twenties and blond hair with a small scruff of beard growing in, took notice and smiled at his blue skinned passenger. Pointing at something on the map of his navigator, he then moved away and began to meet her halfway. His boots stomped along the stairway to the main deck just as she came to a halt at the bottom step.
“Well, Ms. Elian-”, he started before Dyril corrected him abruptly.
“I think the correct term is Híril, which translate to Lady, in this case.”
“Alright, but honestly I feel it doesn’t make much difference here if I may speak boldly ma’am. You’re in Formaroth now, not the Elven Imperium,” the Captain stated as he looked to the horizon, “Now, what are the arrangements for the cargo you have?”
Before Dyril could speak, her eyes caught movement from her peripheral, and turned to see a man dressed in a uniform with the Thale coat of arms on his tunic. He moved swiftly with purpose to Captain Thebes to deliver a message. Upon arriving, the younger man inhaled and then rumbled out the message, “The passenger of this ship has a summons to meet with Magister Dionisa, Advisor to the King. She will likely arrive by carriage presently.”
Dyril blinked in surprise at the message as she watched the man depart, quickly trotted across the deck and down the ramp. When his figure vanished, Captain Thebes was the first to break the quiet that settled over them, “That was an interesting turn of events. I’m rather shocked it’s not Magister Vyncetta coming to greet you instead of that unsavory woman. I heard rumors about her and none of them good.”
Kiseo looked at Dyril who then inquired about the statement, “Rumors? What type of rumors? This is the time I’ve heard of a Magister and I’m a little out of my depth with Formaroth court workings. So any information would be helpful, if you would be so kind?”
“A female mage who bewitches men with her magics and resulting in them being wrapped about her pinky,” Thebes said with a frown on his lips, his eyes hardened in an uncharacteristic fashion for his usually light hearted nature, “Poor Lord Thane is among her recent victims I’m afraid to say. I wouldn’t be surprised if she blackmailed our recent Magister to ensure she got the chance to meet you, Lady Dyril.”
“I’ll consider myself warned,” Dyril said, her hands patted her skirt straighter while she digested the information. She inwardly knew the rumors were only partly true, having a slight bit of truth within them. It was just a matter of finding it. Any time she had left to prepare had been wasted when she spied the carriage’s arrival and quickly made her way down the ramp, feeling Thebes’ head following her all the way.
At the approach of the guest Lana was expecting, the door was opened and steps put quickly into place. She did not rise, simply looking out from the sheltered confines of the carriage, wiping the scowl from her face as she did so. Though she found this place and its usual population disagreeable, this elven trader she was here to meet promised to be genuinely interesting. What she had not expected though, was the exotic creature that followed in the wake of the elf. It carried itself as a servant would - or at least, if it were human, that is what Lana would’ve guessed. The scholar in her demanded to know more, and so she made a snap decision to invite whatever it was as well as the elf.
She put on a welcoming smile as the blue skinned woman approached, her eyes lighting up in genuine surprise and curiosity at the sight of the other figure. “Welcome to Nyhem. I am Magister Lanaya Dionisa.” She beckoned to the pair then. “Please, come with me. Your… companion is welcome too. I would like to discuss your imports.” Her tone was friendly, for this was largely a formality. Nonetheless, her position meant it was also something of an honor to receive an audience so soon after arriving.
Dyril paused just outside the carriage and bowed at the waist, showing her respect in the simple gesture. Kiseo, meanwhile, turned her eyes downward to avoid making eye contact with the Magister. Unfamiliar with the customs or traditions of Formaroth, her behavior fell to the old habits of her slavery, as she kept close to her Elven mistress.
Being the more politically knowledgeable of the two, Dyril was the only one to speak, “I’m Híril Dyril Elian and this is my attendant, Kiseo. I’m honored to receive a visit by the Magister.”
Upon raising upright, Kiseo quickly moved to the step’s side and assisted Dyril inside. The furred arm raised to grip Dyril’s hand tightly before the half elven woman took a seat. Kiseo hesitated at following her mistress into the carriage as her eyes shifted for wagon being towed behind or to join the coachman on the front seat, her attention snapped back into awareness when Dyril cleared her throat.
“Kiseo, take a seat,” Dyril commanded in a voice of authority and firmness as she moved to the side. She patted the seat to indicate where the Mao should sit. A mental struggle ensured within the feline like servant before she finally caved in.
“Mistress, yes,” came Kiseo’s broken words before she obeyed.
After Kiseo was seated, Dyril began to get down into business, “I must say, my knowledge of Formaroth is a bit dated. It seemed the Captain thought I would be meeting a Magister Vyncetta instead and I’m a bit concern about this. Could you be so kind to enlighten me, if it wouldn’t be much trouble.”
Lana’s face darkened at the mention of her dead friend. There was sadness in her tone as she spoke. “The High Magister was assassinated very recently. It is only because of necessity that I assume my late friends role. Magical affairs have not ceased, and the King needed an advisor.” What she said would most likely come across defensive, but she was tired of nobles assuming that she had in some way orchestrated the events as a power play.
“You have my condolences and apologies. I was hoping it was something less grievous,” Dyril’s tone took on a careful but earnest tone after learning about the High Magister, one of genuine respect toward the loss the woman had endured in the recent time. However, her mind also drifted to the more poisonous aspects in politics and as her Uncle had taught her, fastest way to advancement was through the death of a superior. The woman seemed honest about her emotional stress but Dyril had seen excellent actresses in her dealings in trade. The Half Elven woman held her judgement until she had studied the new Magister farther, her hands fell into her lap and settled there.
“Maybe moving onto business would be best. What is it that a Magister does as it’s the first time I’ve actually heard the title and met one, or I would’ve been better prepared.”
“Thank you. The war has taken much from us all…” Lana said. It wasn’t fact that Aurelia had been killed by the war, but it was a possibility, and the war could possibly be blamed for the religious schisms as well. She was happy for the change of subject and quickly moved on, even as the carriage began to start rolling forward. “Magister is a title indicating my magical prowess. In this land I am respected because of it, though not as much as a High Magister would be. I am also the King’s magical advisor, as I mentioned before, and sit on his council of advisors. I am also the Lady of House Dionisa. Today, however, I meet with you primarily as the king's advisor. As I understand it, you are shipping items of a magical nature into this land. I would like to know the details, that I might better advise my King on how to proceed in relation to this matter.”
Dyril’s spine stiffened as the carriage jerked into motion, following the heavy foot falls of the horses. Mentally the half Elven woman hoped her earlier blunder wouldn’t give the woman the impression she was an idiot. The last thing she wanted was over half of Formaroth believing she was gullible and worse, their attempts to get cheaper products unsuccessful causing frustration to kill their desire to buy any after the false advertisement due to rumors. She mentally sighed at the anxiety building within her chest over something that hadn’t even happened… yet.
Noticing that Kiseo had been disturbingly quiet causing Dyril’s attention to shift. She spied out of her peripheral vision on her feline companion, who was distracting herself by staring out the window. Every so often her tail gave a lazy flick which seemed to get closer and closer to the Magister. Unable to stop it, without drawing attention, Dyril watched it then make a quick bat at the Lady of House Dionisa before it settled at the woman’s side.
Having been cramped inside a ship for a while and Dyril’s strict emphasis over not letting her tail invade personal space of others. Unable to correct the issue without drawing attention to it, she forced herself to return to the conversation.
“I’m open numerous questions about my products. However, the amount I have to sell is of little quantity but high quality. Another shipment is arriving for another involved party as agreed upon.”
There was a faint glow in the air as, with the lightest touch of force magic, Lana stopped the tail from actually contacting her, but she shot a dark glance at the creature anyway. It was quite rude to let its extremities flail so.
Turning back to the elf, she spoke. “I am not here to negotiate price or purchase, that is for the King’s economy specialists to handle. I simply want to know what could go wrong should your goods accidentally fall into the hands of the stupid or the malicious. In knowing that, and how to solve those problems, I will be able to advise my King that these goods are safe to import. It is purely in the interests of the safety and well-being of the people of this land… Though for that reason also, I do hope this other part you intend to sell to is not aligned with the enemy - Lord Manshrew, and his vile alliance.”
Some subtle instinct tugged at her to be careful with her next words, purely because of the venomous word choice in the Magister’s description of Lord Manshrew and his alliance. She had only vague understanding about the complications since news between Formaroth and the Imperium were very hard to come by without a hefty price. Due to her status within the manor, Dyril obvious didn’t have such resources or funds at her disposal. Rumors and hearsay were her best option even when it paled in comparison to facts.
Kiseo jerked when her tail was batted away then suddenly jerked her head into Lana’s direction, witnessing the dark glare for the first time. Her ears lowered and her eyes averted to the ground almost immediately as she tensed, seeming to expect a violent repercussion for her actions. Even her tail seemed to reflect the expectation as it curled about her body in an attempt to make it a smaller target.
“Kiseo, apologize to the Magister,” Dyril paused long enough to address the ill manners of her companion.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for my tail to-” Kiseo started before Dyril’s voice stopped her, the tone become sharp and more authoritative in reaction.
“In Formaroth,” Dyril reprimanded.
Kiseo nodded then adjusted her language, her mind seemed to struggle with the words and their forming, “Sorry I am. Tail… excited or joyful or…”
She stopped to consider her words, through her head hadn’t raised or changed from its posture when Dyril cut in in order to speed the apology up and make more sense of Kiseo’s explanation, “She’s been cooped up on a ship for a good part of the year and Mao’s tails tend to show their emotions. It flicks when it’s excited and sometimes they don’t realize they are in personal space. I’ve been trying to break that habit of hers with only gradual progress.”
Lana took in the information wordlessly, and with a neutral expression. She waited a moment, taking a page from Eli’s book, to let them think that maybe she might not accept. It would make a more lasting impression to not invade her personal space like that, even accidentally. But when the moment had passed, she spoke, her tone diplomatic “Apology accepted.”
“That settled, you also have my apologies for my earlier assumption. I was taught by my Uncle that usually when interest is shown, purchase is likely to follow and to quickly latch onto it before it vanishes. It’s a developing habit I’ve not broken purely out of respect for him,” Dyril stated, through the latter was an outright lie. It was purely because she was expected and forced to learn such a vile habit or risk unsavory aftermath. She inhaled then continued, her expression twisted up into what she hoped was a friendly one, “I can safely assure you the buyer isn’t someone named Lord Manshrew, at least. As I mentioned before, I’m out of my depth about politics in Formaroth as information is difficult to come by when merchants rarely make the trip to our lands.”
She adjusted her dress some to ensure it rested comfortable on her lap as she continued, “I will have Kiseo or someone else deliver you a full copy of my current stock so you know fully what item does. If you have any questions over a certain item, then I will be happy to explain it and even demonstrate its magic to you.”
Her peripheral vision noted Kiseo had relaxed when the Magister accepted the apology, but the odd silence had increased the half Elf’s alert in the matter. She would need a long and deep talk with Kiseo in private much later before serious damage was actually done, “The rest will have to wait until the bigger shipment arrives, I’m afraid. I was merely sent ahead to ensure arrangements for transportation so they aren’t rotting or stolen before they are delivered to their destination. I believe I’ve answered all your questions, are there any more?”
“I would be very interested in a demonstration of the magic.” Lana began - genuine interest in her voice. She was a scholar as well as a politician, after all. “But not today. I feel it is only right that I inform you of the political climate of Formaroth, lest you accidentally make enemies where you do not intend to.” Lana’s voice diplomatic again, did not convey the fact that it was less of a curtesy and more from the desire not to have an uninformed but influential fool running roughshod over her plans. “But first, where do you intend to stay, that I might direct the driver to take us there.”
Dyril was grateful her measure of the woman was accurate and seemed to relax a bit more as she continued to speak,“I appreciate it. Recovering from a misstep is often difficult. As for current lodgings, prior arrangements were made at a place called The Little Reed Inn for a month where a distant side of my family is suppose to meet me and make permanent arrangements from there.”
Kiseo, meanwhile, found her attention drifted from the conversation and gradually recovered scolding. She had began to distract herself by looking out the carriage window when a strange bird (by her standards) flirted by overhead. On impulse she peeked out her head farther into the window in hopes to catch a better glimpse.
“Kiseo,” Dyril abruptly said to hint to the Mao to pull herself back into the carriage, but she didn’t divert her attention from the Magister.
Rather than shout, or open the door and lean out - Lana instead chose the more elegant method of informing the driver. Her right hand quickly traced a small pattern before her - the air around her fingers shimmering as it did. Then she spoke, just as she had been speaking to Dyril before. “Driver, take us to the Little Reed Inn.”
Abruptly, the carriage changed its course. It was, perhaps, a little frivolous to use magic for such a trivial thing, but with Lana’s mastery of such things, it was an equally trivial spell for her.
Lana then looked at Dyril and began to speak of the state of Formaroth. “Recently, King John Remonnet died, along with his wife, the Queen, leaving no heir.” Her hands moved through the air again, and beside her, in clear view of her guests, a still image of the funeral appeared. “Duncan De Reimer and Andrew Manshrew both claimed the right to the Throne -” an image of them shouting at each other across the council hall appeared. “But neither could convince a majority of their legitimacy… Nor would either have accepted such. But Duncan held the loyalty of more than Andrew though, and Andromeda is far from here. Duncan is the true King, the more just and wise of the two. He did not plunge this land into war over his own personal honor as Andrew did.” Lana’s tone was sure as she spoke of Duncan, even though her allegiances had shifted.
Now, an image of war appeared. A highly stylised image of armies arrayed against each other - as one would see on a tapestry - for Lana had never seen true war, and so could not create an image of it. “War has broken out. Houses have declared their allegiances to their chosen sides… Some have paid dearly, some have gained greatly.” An image of Eli Blackwell appeared then - his chiseled features more handsome than any mundane image could portray. “House Blackwell even secured its independence. The land of Alenius is the Blackwell Kingdom now. They value people for their skills over their lineage… But I suggest you limit your dealings to one Kingdom until the tension between the Kings dies down.”
Lana lingered a moment on the Blackwell image, but moved on almost as swiftly as before - this time to show Aurelia on the balcony of her tower still very much alive. “My predecessor and friend from a young age - High Magister Aurelia Vyncetta - was assassinated recently. A tragedy for magic in Formaroth… and one best left unmentioned in the presence of King Duncan, for she was a close friend of his.” Now the image showed a church of Klebrithy. Lana had not personally seen much of the affair that went on with the church of late, and so could not create images of the people involved. “Most recently, there has been a schism in the Church. An element of radicals have split from the main body of the Church, and though I will not bore you with the details, they hate mages and magic both with a passion. Nothing has been said of elves or other creatures, but if I were you I would be wary of the church for a while, lest you run into a xenophobic heretic.” With that, the image disappeared and the carriage seemed just a little darker than before.
Dyril had leaned in a little, but not enough to become a nuisance to the Magister’s personal space, as she absorbed the recent events detailed to her. Its state reminded her of the current Imperium’s state through far less poor for it. The most concerning informational bits were about the church’s radical members and the fact she had no idea which side her distant family resided on. If they were aligned with Manshrew’s forces, things could become very complicated and dangerous for her future especially if one of her primary connections were completely wiped out.
She inhaled through her nostrils and let her frame relax. A hard to read expression crossed her face, through it might’ve been because she was half Elven, before she spoke with an appropriate tone, “I appreciate your information and update over the current events on Formaroth. I have to admit what rumors I received from the few sailors that cross into our realm were poor in information. I aim to put this new knowledge to good use and try my best not to step on toes, but I have to admit being a merchant isn’t easy.”
With fingers gripping a fold of her dress, Dyril then bit her lip in thought for a moment. Things were much more complicated for her now. Letting that realization wash over and settle, like sand on a river bank, she then noticed the Little Reed Inn gradually coming into view. It seemed their conversation was coming to a close and best thing to do was to wrap bid her farewell and move on.
“I believe our stop is arriving and I will take anymore of your time than I already have,” Dyril answered then bowed her head a bit in an Elven show of respect.
“Indeed.” Lana stated before continuing in a slightly less formal tone. “If it is possible, I would like to be kept up to date should you leave the city in the near future. Though I have not the time this day to consider a purchase, I may in the near future. I am also quite curious about your companion… I have never seen nor heard of her like in this land. You are welcome in Thale Manor - my home - while you are in this city.” It wasn’t an offer she would extend to just any random merchant… But this was not a random merchant. Elven merchants were rare, not unheard of in Nyhem, but rare all the same. Half-elves though, were extremely rare, and the odd creature with Dyril deserved to be learned about. After all, what kind of scholar could she claim to be if she didn’t at least try to chronicle the unusual things in the world around her?
“I’ll be sure to keep some of my best stock set aside in that case,” Dyril said and let a brief show of surprise at the mention of Kiseo, her eyes turned to the Mao for a moment and then back before she continued her conversation, “I believe Kiseo herself has several questions herself as her body language has been literally screaming it since we met you. If you would like ask her any questions, she would be more than happy to answer it. She understands Formaroth decently, but speaking is harder for her and please understand misunderstandings in some word meanings can occur.”
At the mention of her name, Kiseo’s head jerked back to the two females within the carriage. Through it had stopped, her interest was now drawn to the conversation and quickly nodded slightly when she realized what Dyril was referring to.
“Try to improve, I am. Practice much appreciate, I like,” Kiseo answered in her broken attempts to relay she was at least trying to improve.
Dyril sighed slightly but made no more comment on the facts displayed, “If you would like, I can send Kiseo during reasonable times so you both can satisfy your curiosity. She needs to deliver the list of goods too later which will solve two things with one trip. Would this be alright with you, Magister?”
“Indeed it would.” Lana replied as the carriage came to a halt. “It has been pleasant meeting you. I hope you find what you are looking for in this city.”
Dyril made one last bow with her head before she turned to her companion. Kiseo was already reaching for the door and popped it open, stepping down before she reached behind her in order to assist her mistress. Taking the offered ‘paw’ the half elven woman casually exited onto the stone walkway facing the Little Reed Inn.
Patrick was sat in the central pavilion of the concord's encampment. The pavilion was a long rectangular tent made from cotton duck canvas. Within the pavilion was a long table around which sat the various generals of the imperial army, many of whom originated from Cawanor. Present at the table was Grandin Tuania and his son Orland, both of whom sat rather close to Patrick. Patrick was in a good mood, though it had taken a while to mobilize the concord forces the journey to Telmarion had gone better than expected. They were only a couple days march from Clarm. Soon the Alliance would be crushed and his brothers position on the throne would be a certainty. "I do not appreciate you giving my home to a thug and allowing the alliance to besiege it unopposed" Grandin exclaimed. He had been sulking ever since Claus had evicted them from their own stronghold "That man assaulted my eldest son and I am expected to trust him with the safety of my wife and youngest" Patrick looked at Grandin, his face lacked any emotion "Claus Rotstein is a accomplished battle commander and I am confident a man of his abilities will be able to hold Clarm. Besides had it not been for your son's egotism Clarm may not of been sieged in the first place" At this Orland turned his head in shame as a few of the other commanders sniggered. Grandin opened his mouth to protest but was quickly silenced by cold glare from Patrick. At this moment a messenger came into the tent "Forgive the intrusion but house Blackwell's forces have arrived" "Excellent" Patrick said "Send whomever is leading them to meet with us at once, we have much to discuss"
Mere moments after the messenger stepped out of the tent again, the tall figure of Eli Blackwell strode through the entryway, flanked by two women - his sisters Drevala and Beatrice. He wore armor, not the heavy, bulky plate of his sister Beatrice, nor the light leather of the warrior mage at his other shoulder, but finely crafted scale armor. It was formed from the most delicate of dragon scales, functional yet still light and elegant. No other guards were present, for even were it not the camp of an ally, what more defense would he need than two of the most formidable women in Formaroth?
"Lord Patrick Reimer." He said by way of greeting, with the tone of one acknowledging a peer, not a superior. He strode up to the table before continuing in a business-like fashion. "I bring the Dragonguard and a number of Alenius regulars. I am already aware of your armies composition... Unless you have any hidden forces nearby?" He wasted no time on formalities. They were here for one reason - to defeat the Manshrew Alliance army. Talk aside from that was wasted as far as he was concerned.
Patrick paused before he replied as he stared at Eli, purposely keeping him waiting. Patrick knew how the Blackwell's viewed themselves as being equal to all others. Patrick intended to ensure Eli that this was not the case.
"Welcome Lord Blackwell, we have been awaiting your arrival. Please take a seat" Patrick said as he gestured to a empty seat in the middle of the table.
Eli noted the chair that Patrick was gesturing to. The middle of the table. It was a rather blunt snub.
Rather than submit to it, or protest vocally, he simply strode nonchalantly to the chair opposite Patrick - at the end of the table - and sat. This was an alliance of equals, and he would act as though Patrick recognized that fact, even if Patrick's actions indicated otherwise.
Beatrice followed him, remaining ever at his shoulder and when he had sat, glanced at him before speaking up for a moment. "That's Prince Blackwell." She said firmly. Drevala, on the other hand, hung back near the edge of the tent. She was not comfortable with the tension in the room, nor the mass of people in this general environment, and her manner showed it.
A small smile crept on Partrick's face as Eli took the chair opposite him. It was clear Eli wasn't some whom would be easily intimidated, and the same could be said for his sister. Patrick ignored Beatice's comment as he continued to speak
"So, what do the forces of house Blackwell have to offer the concord. How do you plan to assist us in the upcoming battle"?
Eli did not respond immediately, instead fixing the remainder of the leaders at the table with a calculating gaze. "House Blackwell forces consist of three elements. The elite Dragonguard, the smaller contingent, are veteran heavy infantry equipped with the finest arms and armor. The remainder of the Force consists of Blackwell regular infantry. They are well trained and equipped. Most importantly however, they are versatile. The final element is my sister, the Dragonslayer." No further explanation was needed about that asset as far as he was concerned.
He paused then, though not for long. "Our force is mobile and capable of swiftly striking before withdrawing - even the heavy infantry. Several such strikes will not only conserve the forces strength, but sap the enemies will to fight. Of course, the Dragonslayer-" He paused momentarily to punctuate his sisters title and presence, then continued. "-is quite capable of dispatching the elephants Andrew marches with, given just a little time... They are hardly Dragons, after all." He didn't feel the need to state how he knew Andrew had elephants, after all, it was fairly obvious to anyone who knew the first thing about the Dragonslayers's shape shifting capabilities. What better scout than a bird?
"Very impressive, I am surprised Alenius was able to muster such a large force in such a short space of time. However I have already formulated a plan to take care of the Alliance's Elephants" Patrick said as he looked towards Drevala. So far Drevala had been keeping herself away from the negotiations and looked very uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people. It would be interesting to see how she would respond now that the attention had been put on her "Your friend Lady Dionisa has supplied us with a force of some of the most talented mages in Formaroth, they shall be key to defeating the elephants that gave the steel fist such trouble. I trust you will wish to fight alongside your fellow mages"?
Eli let the hint of a smile touch the edge of his mouth at hearing the apparent surprise in Patrick's voice. It was always foolish to underestimate house Blackwell... But he didn't feel the need to point that out to his 'ally.'
Drevala looked up abruptly at the mention of Lana, suddenly having rather more interest in the conversation. If Lana had sent colleagues to aid this force, she wanted to make sure they made it back to her dear friend. She remembered Lanaya's reaction to the loss of mages she knew in the last war, and did not wish to see that repeated.
"That would be the best, I think." She said, sure of herself in this instance, but still not exactly confident among present company.
Eli noted his sisters discomfort and quickly stepped in saying "You have a plan already? Intriguing. Would you care to share this with us"
Patrick's sly smile remained as he turned back to Eli "Certainly, I can assure you this is a battle that the alliance will not recover from"
A few days had passed since the unfortunate attempt by those ignorant fools to burn a mage alive. Either she had sufficiently intimidated them into not trying it again—which she was not too sure about being the case—or someone had taken a hand in preventing further attempts. Probably some slightly more intelligent church official, as part of some scheme against his or her supposed compatriots.
Whatever the reason, she had not had to worry about burnings for the past several days, which was undeniably a good thing. Instead, she had spent her time collecting additional information about the De Reimers. A small coin here, an innocent smile there, and it was amazing what things people knew.
She had just had a meal in one of the better inns when she spotted a man in her family’s dark gray livery, leading a lathered horse by its reins. He clearly appeared to be looking about, searching for someone. Silently, she groaned a little. “Of course he couldn’t leave well enough alone…” she muttered beneath her breath. It didn’t take a genius to know the messenger was looking for her. Her grandfather had never been able to let her run around on family business without sticking his nose in. She really should’ve known he’d poke his head in here too.
“Messenger! Over here!” she spoke loudly, not quite shouting, but making her presence known as she lowered her hood. He spun around, taking a moment to spot her even with her calling him out. With a brisk walk, he came over to her.
“M’lady Raudhfell! I did not see you.” he said as he arrived. “The Duke asked me to see this got into your hands.” he held out a sealed scroll case.
Urd grabbed it, then pulled out a small coin and handed it over. “Of course he did… When you get back home, thank him for me, will you?” This last bit had a subtle hint of sarcasm to it, but she did not think the messenger would pick up on that. While she did not carry much money on her person, she could afford this. It was an investment in the long run. Messengers as good as this one deserved such, for she could see from the markings on the seal that he’d made excellent time on his trip, clearly following the most direct route from home. Having the loyalty of the family messengers would pay off more than that paltry coin cost her in the long run.
“Thank you m’lady, I will repeat your message to him.” he said with absolute honesty in his voice.
It was abundantly clear at that point he had not picked up on the sarcasm. “You may be excused to go about your business.”
“Of course, m’lady.” He answered, quickly turning about and heading off.
In turn, Urd slung the scroll tube onto her back underneath her cloak, raised her hood back up and made her way back towards the Thale Manor. She could not open the case in public.
The contents of the missive were fairly simple. First of all, he had included several pieces of information about the De Reimers, all of them putting them in a fairly good light. Then he ordered her to reveal her parentage to the king, almost as if he thought that was his decision to make. She supposed that as head of the house she would have to listen to him, but that still did not make it his decision. The final piece of information was a report that there was supposedly some sort of marriage deal going on between her father and some Blackwell woman named Naomi. That could spell trouble.
Had it not been for the final piece, she would’ve been very tempted to show her grandfather up by ignoring his instructions, but she knew that with that piece in mind, she couldn’t. Typical, but only expected. She knew well that her grandfather knew of her tendency to not enjoy being ordered about. The first thing she did after this was to go to the nearest fireplace and put every sheet paper from the missive into it, making sure they were burned and the ashes stirred around so that nobody would be able see what they had contained. After that, she left the mansion, heading for the royal palace to find one of the De Reimers.
Isabel was currently in the castle's courtyard accompanied only by Ulf. Now that Autumn had set in the courtyard’s usual colorful plants had transformed into a orangy brown. The courtyard of Miserth reminded her of the garden’s back home in Iredale. Now that Aurelia was gone, Isabel wondered who would take responsibility for maintaining it. Isabel’s trail of thought was interrupted as someone entered the courtyard. As Isabel turned to face them she realised that it was Duncan’s personal bodyguard; Alenius. As she made her way over to them Ulf placed his hand on his sword; though he didn’t think she was a threat he wanted Alenius to feel threatened in his presence, though to no avail. “Excuse me my lady,” Alenius said with a small bow “But Lady Urd Raudhfell has arrived to see you.” To this Isabel expressed surprise, she knew that a member of the Raudhfell had recently met with her brother her in Nyhem in regards to Aurelia’s murder. However she had no idea why she wished to meet with her, nor that she was even still in the city. “And what does she want with me?” Isabel asked.
“In honestly my lady, she actually asked for the king, however when I told her that meeting him would not be possible she request for you instead.” This infuriated Isabel. Not only had Isabel been Urd’s second choice but she believed she had the authority to summon Isabel like she was some common noble.
“Why do you think this is worthy of my time?” Isabel demanded “Send her away, I am not some commoner that she can summon upon request.”
“Normally I would my lady I assure you, but I have reason to believe that it is important that you meet with her.” Alenius said as she tried to sound confident. Though she normally had no trouble asserting herself to nobles who believed themselves better than her, Isabel was different. Firstly she was the king’s sister but more than that, Isabel had a way of draining away one’s confidence. Isabel glared at Alenius before she replied
“And what makes you think that?”
“A while back I was at ‘The Plucked Hen’,” As Alenius began Isabel rolled her eyes; did she truly intend to waste her time with pub stories?! “While I was there I took note that Urd Raudhfell was also present. As first I didn’t pay her any mind but as I listened something caught my attention. It would appear she was asking numerous patrons at the inn about the De Reimer family. I believed this to be rather strange so I asked a number of the King’s spies to track her, and it appeared this wasn’t just a one off event. She was clearly gathering information regarding the De Reimer family, for what purpose I don’t know, although it didn’t seem malicious, in any case it may be worth asking her about it.”
Though Isabel remained skeptical she agreed that it did seem odd. Why would a member of a prominent house be gathering information on the De Reimer’s from inn keepers and drunks? While half of Isabel wanted to dismiss Urd out of spite, the other half knew she may miss an important opportunity if she did.
“Very well, take me to her then.” She said as she signaled Ulf to follow.
After arriving at the royal palace, Urd had been informed that the High King was busy, that there would be no opportunity to speak with him without prior appointment. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. He was trying to defend his claim as High King, after all. When she asked to see another De Reimer, she was informed that the Lady Isabel De Reimer was present. Thus, she asked to see the lady instead. It didn’t really matter that much which of the De Reimers she got to see, for they were all relatives, even if they didn’t know it themselves. She’d heard less kind things about the Lady Isabel, but nothing that painted her in a truly bad light.
The room she’d been taken to was spartan, clearly a small reception chamber of sorts. Only when the door opened up a good quarter hour after she’d been escorted there did she know for sure she’d even get an audience. The first woman to enter was the same one that had taken her to the audience with the high king several days before. Immediately afterwards came a finely dressed woman, with long brown hair, tall sharp eyebrows and a somewhat rounded face. Urd could instantly see the family resemblance between her and the High King, and though she found it impossible to see any similarities to herself there. But then, she couldn’t see any such between herself and her mother either, and everyone said they looked alike, so that had little to no relevance.
She quickly rose to her feet, then bowed deeply, as was proper when greeting a Cawanori noble of higher rank. “Lady Urd Raudhfell at your service, My Lady Isabel De Reimer.”
“Lady Urd.” Isabel said harshly, as frustrated as she was with Urd’s blunt invitation she decided she would remain reasonably civil, after all the Raudhfell were vital to Cawanor’s infrastructure and she dared not risk ruining their relationship “What brings you here, I trust you have a good reason to request my presence?”
“Family brings me here.” Urd answered, not at all put out by Lady Isabel’s tone, having been prepared for just that sort of tone of voice. “To be specific, our shared family.” It felt strange to say that to a woman she had not even met before this day, but it had to be said.
Isabel raised her eyebrow upon hearing this “Do you care to explain yourself?”
“Do you think I would be here if I had no such intentions?” Urd quipped. “You are my aunt, and I am your niece.”
“What?” Isabel’s previous anger and frustration was now replaced with utter confusion. She paused for a moment as she looked at both Alenius and Urd, both of whom were clearly as confused as she was. She remained quiet for a moment longer before finally responded “Are you joking… or just utterly deluded?” Isabel said still baffled at what she had just heard.
“Nope. Not joking, not deluded. Granted, I doubt my father—your eldest brother—knew what would come out of it when he and my mother played around nineteen years ago.” She didn’t really want to think about her mother doing that sort of things with anyone. “My mother certainly didn’t.”
Isabel was still stood in shock. What this girl really suggesting that Patrick was her father? Isabel lightly shook her head to bring her back to her senses “This is prosperous.” Isabel shouted “How dare you accuse my brother of such scandalous actions. If you indeed are my niece then show me proof!”
Urd didn’t know what to say to that. How could she prove it? How could anyone prove their parentage? Nothing had prepared her for that demand. After a very tense minute, she answered. “I have no idea how to prove it. All I have is my mother’s words.” Her tone clearly showed how she had not been prepared for this. After a few moments of almost panicking at no longer having control over the situation, she suddenly remembered something her mother had said. “Wait, now I remember! My mother said he has a birthmark, shaped like a pickaxe on the inside of his right thigh, halfway up from his knee to his, well, private parts. Is that proof enough?” With that recollection, she felt much more confident.
When Urd first spoke Isabel started to smile, it was clear that this bumbling girl had no proof. However as Urd continued Isabel’s smile disappeared. How did she know about the birthmark? No one knew about it. Even as a child Patrick insisted on dressing himself rather than have servants do it for him and he certainly didn’t go around telling people about it.
“How do you…?” Isabel stammered before turning to Alenius “Fetch my brother immediately and tell him to meet me in the council chamber!” she barked as Alenius quickly bowed and made her way out of the room. Surely there had to be a reasonable explanation for this? None of this felt real. Then again why would she make such an outlandish claim if she wasn’t certain?
“Follow me this way, Urd Raudhfell.” Isabel said quietly as she slowly walked out the room with Ulf following behind.
A true plethora of expressions passed over Lady Isabel’s face after Urd mentioned the birthmark and described its location. It was almost gratifying to see it, but Urd did not really bear the woman any ill will. Why should she have? The woman had never hurt her or hers. When instructed to follow, she did not need to answer, but did as told. Her mother’s words had clearly had an effect.
As Duncan approached the council chamber he saw that Ulf was standing outside. The presence of the gigantic brute indicated that Isabel was already inside. Alenius had already told Duncan what had already happened between Isabel and Urd and he was finding difficult to believe. As Duncan approached Ulf opened the door for him. Just before Duncan walked through he turned to Alenius.
“Make sure no one enters.” Alenius nodded in compliance a shout the door as Duncan walked through. Inside were only two people. Isabel who was currently sitting at her place on the table and Urd. Duncan looked at Urd to his sister, before finally looking at Urd again.
“So, from what I gather, you are apparently my long lost niece.” Duncan said sarcastically, unlike Isabel he had time to mentally prepare for this discussion. Though he was as surprised as Isabel he would not let Urd know it.
Not much time passed from the time they entered the audience chamber until Urd’s uncle arrived. She listened as he spoke, not needing long to think of an answer to his clearly sarcastic statement. “For me to be your long lost niece, you would have had to know about me prior to this day. From what I have gathered about our family, sharing knowledge is common, and your sister—my aunt—did not know anything about me. Therefore, I do not believe the term ‘long lost niece’ would be accurate. ‘Previously unknown niece’ might be more appropriate.”
While it was entirely probable that he was surprised by her revelation, she noted that there was no evidence thereof in his voice or on his face. That either meant that he was a far better actor than her aunt, or that he already knew of her relation to him. However, his knowing that did not make sense. Not when compared to what she had learned about him from her questions and what her grandfather’s network had discovered. Therefore, she could only assume that he was a better actor, which was something she would definitely have to keep in mind in the future. Especially if this did not go as she hoped.
Duncan’s face hardened as he scowled at Urd.
“I would remind you to mind your tone when speaking to me. Regardless of whether you truly are our niece I will remind you that I am still your king. This isn’t the first time I have told you this.” Though Duncan didn’t raise his voice there was a certain severity in his voice.
’and it won’t be the last’ she thought to herself, though some hint of it probably showed in her eyes. “Yes, yes…” she answered, then added—remarkably enough without sarcasm—”My liege”. It had taken her a lot of trial and failure with her grandfather to manage replying like that without sarcasm. As she did, she curtsied deeply.
“Better.” Duncan said “Now then,” Duncan said as he gestured for Urd to take a seat at one of the council chairs before taking his own seat “While I remain skeptical about what you claim I am at least willing to hear you out. Tell me who is your mother? How did she and my brother meet? When were you…” Duncan paused for a moment as he awkwardly searched for the right word “conceived.” he finally stammered.
“If you’ve memorized the Cawanori noble houses, as I am sure you have, you’ll know. In any case, my mother, the Countess Raudhfell, is Lady Ida Raudhfell. The rest I would not expect you to know.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “My parents met during her formal presentation at court in Cawaport. From what I have understood, my mother wasn’t properly chaperoned, and your brother wasn’t exactly closely watched over either. Seeing how they were both rather young at almost thirteen years and thirteen years of age, they presumably did not truly understand just what a series of… encounters... would lead to.” Urd was not too comfortable about thinking about her mother having sex with anyone, let alone speaking about such an act.
“My mother apparently found him to be rather irresistible. Which is presumably the primary cause I exist.”
Duncan listened carefully as Urd spoke and remained silent for a while afterwards. It was true that Patrick and Ida had been close during the brief time they had known each other. Though Duncan had only been nine at the time he still remembered how romantic they had been with each other. Duncan had even made fun of Patrick over it, before Patrick punched him in the arm and told him to shut up. Not to mention that Urd’s age matched up with the amount of time that had passed since Patrick and Ida met.
“What you claim… it certainly possible.” Isabel looked up at Duncan upon hearing this “The more I think about it the more it makes sense. However I will refrain from judgement until I hear confirmation from both my brother and your family. Until then you may stay here in the Keep.”
It seemed to Urd that her words had at least not fallen on deaf ears. Though they naturally desired further confirmation, they were willing to believe what she knew to be the truth. She would have to get a message sent back home, asking for her mother to provide her confirmation, just as she knew that her aunt and uncle would be asking the same from her father. “I sure seem to be moving around a lot. But it will be more practical to be here than to reside in the Thale Manor, so I will accept that offer. I will also have a message sent to my mother to have her provide her account of the tale, so as to not have it be second-hand. Besides, residing here will make it somewhat more difficult for a certain recently appointed magister to use me in her political maneuvering, which is a definite bonus.”
“I will have a shapeshifter deliver the message to Patrick, it will be the quickest possible way. For now,” Duncan said as he knocked his fist loudly on the table. Upon hearing this Alenius entered the room “Alenius will show you to your room. You are free to leave the keep anytime you like.”
“Thank you, uncle.” Still the term tasted a bit new in her mouth. She’d grown up with a few great uncles, but no actual aunts or uncles. She wondered a little what her life would have been like if her parents had not been split apart almost almost immediately after her conception. Would it have been better? Worse?
Once Urd left the room Duncan and Isabel exchanged looks. They were silent for a long time before Duncan finally decided to break the silence
Alicja and Christian met up with Dyril and Kiseo in the Inn’s mainroom, in disguise.
Went up to the room and Dyril was informed about her family resulting in them coming up with ways of how to release Pearl from her imprison.
Kiseo has revealed a number of needed skills which are needed and finally, Alicja shows love toward her half sister and leaves with intentions to meet up with Dyril at the dock tomorrow.
Nyhem, 503 A.R
Remember our words, 'We Never Quit, We Never Give Up, And We Never Surrender'. You may have taken my life but I assure you my children will have yours in return. That I can swear to you.
Alicja sat quietly at the table, the crumpled letter in her hand. She had been so preoccupied with everything that had happened, with the complete destruction of all that she knew, that she had almost forgotten about the letter her father had pressed into her hand. It appeared that she had a sister who was, at this very moment, traversing the world's oceans to come and see her family. Something caught in her throat and the tears almost welled up. Almost. She had grown harder, it was true, but the idea that yet another Mazeltof would soon suffer by discovering the terrible tragedy that had befallen them, the obscene crime committed against them, saddened her deeply. Dyril was her name, and she would arrive in less than a week - their meeting place would be the Little Reed Inn. She would be expecting her father, but she would be getting Alicja. It would be good to see another Mazeltof given the situation, Alicja was certain that she would be a great help in their attempts to save Pearl. Not for a moment did she doubt that this distant, half-elven sister would help in rescuing Pearl. She was a Mazeltof after all, Mazeltof blood ran in her veins and that was all that mattered.
She raised a hand to her face and gently passed the tips of her fingers over the burned and deformed left side of her face. It did not hurt as much anymore. It just sat there on her face, an ugly reminder of what had become of the Mazeltof. This time, the tears did fall.
She quickly wiped them away when she spotted Christian enter the inn and come towards her. She lifted her pint to her lips as he sat opposite her and - looking around quickly first - leaned in to whisper about his and Sir Ramfrey's progress.
'Sir Ramfrey has spoken with a few of his trusted contacts and they'll keep an eye on Nyhem's keep. Sir Ramfrey reckons we could get a few of our agents on the inside, and that will make accessing the Nyhem dungeons far easier. But it'll take time.' Alicja stared into his pint before nodding slowly.
'We're not going anywhere. Do whatever needs doing.' She did not care enough to whisper - there was no one around, and anyone who heard would have a hard time understanding what she was referring to. Christian nodded.
'Have you eaten?' He asked. 'Not hungry,' she said shortly. 'You need to eat.' He insisted. She looked up at him tiredly. 'I'm no-' 'Gods, you look terrible,' he muttered. 'Yes, I know that - thanks for pointing it out,' she snapped. He looked at her in confusion before realisation dawned. 'No, Alicja, I don't mean the...the injury. You just look very tired. When did you last eat?' He did not wait for her to insist that she was not hungry, waving instead to the barkeeper's wife and ordering a stew for them both, 'put extra meat in hers.'
Little had changed by the day of Dyril's promised arrival. Sir Ramfrey's contacts had kept an eye on the keep to work out how often the guard changed and at what times, but they had not managed to get any of their agents in the Nyhem guard stationed in the keep. 'Just a matter o' time,' Sir Ramfrey assured Alicja. They set out in late afternoon for the Little Reed. Christian had expressed his suspicions about this so-called 'sister' of Alicja's, but Alicja had dismissed his misgivings.
'If you're so suspicious, keep and eye on her and tell me if anything strange happens,' she had told him by way of assurance, and he had seemed content enough with that. He walked into the Little Reed first, and Alicja made to follow him. She stopped abruptly at the sight of a bearded young man just beside the door. His cloak was torn and he looked altogether dishevelled - but it was odd seeing such a young beggar. Surely he could easily find some work if he tried? He looked up and his intelligent dark green eyes met Alicja's brown, and he smiled easily enough. She quickly turned her head away so he would not see her scars and lowered her hood further to cover her face. She threw him a coin before moving into the inn, and Sir Ramfrey followed her - giving the beggar a quick glance as he did. Once inside, she noted how active the place was relative to where they were staying. It was clearly one of the more frequented and reputable places.
'I think that's her,' Christian whispered to her, gesturing towards a blue lady sitting in a far corner by a window, 'hard to miss an elf, really.' Alicja gave him a reprimanding glare.
'Elf or no elf, she is my flesh and blood. Remember that.' Christian had his doubts about that, but he muttered a quick apology as Alicja swept past him and headed right for the table. She slowed to a hesitant walk as she neared her, clearing her throat to get the seated woman's attention as she continued at a slow walk.
Dyril had been studying the inn's quaint surroundings. Its interiors were made of mortar and stone, all tightly packed together to keep it warm during the fall atmosphere. Mostly thanks to the collection of body heat produced by the patrons like herself. Though modest looking, the cleanliness was obviously done with care and attention to prevent spread of sickness. She had chosen a booth nearest the window overlooking the front as she wondered idly which of the individuals that entered could possibly have been her birth father.
There was only vague descriptions through letters and no possibly way to gain anything resembling a drawing, something that had seriously disappointed her in her youth. Thankfully it had faded over time while she made plans to meet the man who sired her.
So distracted she was, Dyril barely noticed the occasional stares both her and Kiseo gained from numerous patrons. Their curiosity held back only by their obvious fear of the feline-like Mao currently residing with her mistress. Kiseo was mentally grateful for this because she already was gaining anxiety by the moment upon seeing Dyril's attention so absorbed by worries and nervousness.
Having been with Dyril for eleven years, Kiseo could easily pick out the little ticks displayed in her mistress' body language. The slight tap of the foot shifting the dress’ lower hem, the first two fingers creating half circles over the mug's handle and pushed around food on her plate were all clear as day to the Mao, but anyone unused to Elven politics would easily have missed them. The awareness of the unsettledness had made her tail flick in unease, the tip skirted the floor then wrapped about the chair leg and finally pulled back across. It didn't help her peripheral vision occasionally caught the stares and idle whispers directed at them from fellow patrons.
Kiseo was the first to notice Alicja's approach, even the man in her wake, as the Mao cocked her head in curiousity. Her head turned to Dyril, still staring out the glass window idly, before she decided to address the woman. It would become very clear she struggled with wording of the native language, "You excuse? Interest or business, you have in mistress of mine? Explain, please?"
Interestingly enough, her paw like hands had made a few rapid gestures alongside her words. Her fingers pinched together then jerked to her forehead before twirling over her mouth and then extended toward the woman's posture. Another made a slight clap with her hands in front of her chest before moving her right to ear, her eye then once more flicked to the right side of her shoulder. It seemed to follow a pattern if Alicja or Christian looked closely.
At Kiseo's address, Dyril's attention promptly jerked from her thoughts to hear the woman's answer. There was something vaguely familiar about her traits but she had trouble placing why since she had never met anyone here.
Alicja had been so focused on Dyril that she had not noticed the strange cat creature. When it spoke and Alicja's gaze turned to it, she jumped slightly in shock but quickly composed herself. She looked from Kiseo to Dyril before speaking.
'I am here to meet Dyril Elian,' she looked uncertainly at Dyril, 'who I assume is you.'
"I am. If you will pardon me for being rude but how exactly do you know my full name? I've never met or even know who you are," Dyril's words were spoken in a guarded tone, her eyes still tried to place the source of the familiarity in her mind. There was nothing coming causing her some frustration though she let it linger under the surface and prevented her face from showing it.
Kiseo noticed the reaction which seemed to be the norm now in this foreign land. Trying to put the young human at ease, the Mao gave a little disarming smile (which exposed only a bit of fang) and lowered her eyes to avoid seeming aggressive. Alicja gave the cat-like creature another look and smiled hesitantly- it seemed like it was trying to be friendly, she thought - before slipping into the seat opposite Dyril and looking her direct in the eyes.
'I am-' and she paused quickly and looked around before continuing more low, 'I am Alicja Mazeltof, your sister. Our father, Henry, told me that you were meant to meet with him here. He wanted to be here b-but...he's dead.' Alicja's eyes lowered sadly, 'murdered in cold blood because he was steadfast, loyal, and true.' She looked up at Dyril and pressed her lips tightly together, her eyes watering slightly, 'I am so sorry.'
Dyril just stared at Alicja. For several moments her body went unnaturally still and her eyes seemed to see past the woman, her mind a whirl of emotions she wasn’t prepared to experience when she arrived. For many nights she had actually envisioned this meeting, but it wasn't going how she had wanted it to. It was nothing like this. With Alicja sitting before her and delivering the news her father was gone, reality belted her middle with a sickening punch to the gut. However she managed to retain her composure as she formed her reply with great difficulty.
The tone was hollow, almost empty of any emotion, "I see. This is not a good development, I’m…”
For once words escaped her grasp as she struggled to find the right ones. She wasn’t sure how to put her feelings on the situation since she barely knew the man, at least in a positive light. In reality, she had expected him to be prideful with no desire to admit siring her, but now any hope of knowing the man was dashed to the winds. She forced herself to relax then decided to utter the words in her head out loud, ones she worried she might regret, “How?”
Alicja bit her lip at the question and looked around somewhat fearfully.
'I...I don't think speaking of it in this place is a good idea. Is there somewhere more private where we could go?'
The Magister’s background display over the toxic politics in Formaroth appeared suddenly like the warnings of a fire in Dyril’s mind. She couldn’t help but notice the woman had mainly focused on listing the major houses, especially the Blackwell’s, unknowing revealing a likely deeper than a casual affiliation towards, in the war. However, the minor houses were completely absence because likely were of little influence or importance to mention. Details were the devil in this situation causing her to immediately regret not seeing the foresight about collecting more information. Now it was biting her in the backside, a fact she hated deeply.
There was little reason not to believe the woman because the information she knew was difficult to come across. This made it highly likely Alicja wasn’t exactly who she said she was and telling the truth, the odds in her favor. Even if Dyril found it hard to swallow. Inhaling again, she nodded to spare her from insisting on the answers now.
Kiseo, observing the signs within Dyril, decided to speak on her mistress’ behalf, “Mistress. Room upstairs, best place for discussion. Depart we shall first, follow by you so no attention draw.” Alicja nodded, managing to grasp the meaning of Kiseo's words.
“Yes, thank you Kiseo. I think it might be ideal if you ‘get’ a room for a few days so it doesn’t look suspiciously like meeting,” Dyril managed to suggest as she rose from her seat. She left her mug and meal behind for the barmaid to retrieve shortly before she began to depart for her room. Dyril hoped the two could come up with an explanation over their reason for staying and brief interaction with Dyril, or news might get back to the wrong ears about their interaction.
Alicja remained seated for a good few minutes before finally getting up, stretching in a display of tiredness, and stumbling towards the innkeeper - who was swamped by orders. She managed to request a room for the night, sliding him a coin. The busy man fumbled for a key and muttered something about 'upstairs, two doors to the left' before getting back to his other customers.
When Alicja turned to go upstairs, she found Christian looking at her quizzically. 'We're staying for the night,' she said as she got close to him and took him by the hand - causing him to sputter in shock and go bright red. 'Take me upstair, dear,' she said more loudly than she had to, 'I'm knackered.' He nodded quickly before marching towards the stairs with her, glancing towards Sir Ramfrey who had remained by the door, leaning against the wall nonchalantly. The giant nodded ever so slightly, to Christian before turning and leaving the inn.
'So who's your lady friend?' he heard as he left. He froze in place and his hand unconsciously reached for his sword hilt, and he slowly turned around. ...
When Christian and Alicja reached the room, they opened it and sat inside for a good ten minutes before Alicja got up once again and stealthily made her way to Dyril's room. The door had been left partially open and she closed it behind her once inside. Christian had wanted to come with her, but she had told him that would not be necessary.
When the door opened, Dyril had lifted up from her seat upon her own bed and casually moved toward Alicja. She raised her five digit hands to take her half sister’s then guided her to the nearest chair in the corner. After watching the woman take a seat, Dyril followed suit and moved to the empty spot in front of Alicja before she spoke, "We're alone now. Please, either confirm or ease my fears. How did he die?"
Deep inside her, Dyril felt that intense fear building enough to choke her. This dreadful feeling wouldn't leave until she knew the truth and only then could she act accordingly. Jumping to the worst possible scenario wasn't about to help her in any case.
Meanwhile, Kiseo was oddly staring up into the rafters with deep concern upon her features. Her tail flicked back and forth, her head bobbed side to side, but she seemed to give up after not finding what she was looking for. Her shoulders slouched slightly as she made her way back toward Dyril's bed and seated herself, her legs folded underneath, on the floor. She looked at Dyril with ears angled slightly downward then made her question known, “Strange Formaroth design, Mistress. Sleep place there isn’t for me.”
Alicja was about to begin when Kiseo spoke, and she looked at the Mao distractedly. She found, to her surprise, that the cat's struggles with Formaroth was getting somewhat easier to understand. 'There's another bed over there, Kiseo,' she said with a smile, 'you really can't miss it.' With that, she turned back to her sister and her smile faded somewhat as she began.
Kiseo blinked, her eyes turned upon Alicja with a subtle and horrified expression. It was as if the human had literally requested the Mao jump off the nearest cliff and into the very ocean. Dyril tried to hold back a snort of amusement upon her ex-slave's reaction to the suggestion. When Alicja began, any additional comment faded into the back of the Half Elf's mind.
Alicja spoke first about the death of King John Remonnet without any heirs. Her father had suspected some kind of foul play, but there was no proof. She continued, speaking about the great falling out between the lords of the various realms and their inability to decide on a new king. War naturally broke out - on one side Andrew Manshrew who was known for his honour and bravery, and on the other the suspicious Duncan de Reimer and his allies. Their House, for long rulers of Ralda, sided with the Manshrew Alliance against de Reimer and the Imperial Concord. They paid for their decision: Ralda was invaded, their people were scattered and slaughtered, and House Mazeltof torn asunder. Her father had refused to flee the capital of Ralda, Fishgrove, when their forces were defeated in the Battle of Ralda. And so he was captured. Alicja mentioned that it was in that battle that she received the burns on her face which now marred her appearance.
When she arrived in Nyhem, it was only to discover that her sister was imprisoned and her father was due to be executed - and she had watched him die. When she got to this part and she remembered once more that sickening moment, Sir Ramfrey's arms around her preventing her from running to her father - from saving him or dying with him - she could not help but release a small sob. She stifled it quickly and did not permit any tears to leave her eyes.
'And that,' she said, 'is what happened.'
When the tale finished, Dyril sat in her chair to digest the information given to her. She had already heard most of the history in relation to the war, namely from the Magister herself and who was aligned with the current 'king' presently. Inwardly she suspected that the Magister's loyalty might change in a heartbeat when certain conditions were met, her mind drifted to reflect upon the magical display earlier. Magic, interesting enough, tended to reveal more than most people realized at first.
It seemed to Dyril that both Formaroth and Elven politics had more in common than merely treading a line that was given, a fact that caused a wave of depression to wash over her for an instant. She had hoped to get away from it but alas, it seemed that was impossible no matter where she went.
She could have pressed to skip over the repeating information, but it was useful in forcing her to become objective in understanding the series of events she had stumbled onto. Dyril believed having one piece of information that was told from various sources would often lead to revealing some motivation and the individual's point of views made clear.
"You were lucky to have known him. I know I should feel the amount of grief you do, but I can't," Dyril said, her face showed little to no emotion that Alicja could recognize. It could have been seen as cold and distant, even when that was the furthest from the truth. "This situation makes things much more complicated. Especially as my only worth is my connection with the Mazeltof and being able to trade through them for the dwarven metal within their land."
Kiseo flinched at the mention of Dyril's life now hanging in the balance. The Mao's hands began to clench and unclench a few times to release the anxiety she felt, her tail stopped then rested close to her leg. The hairs bristled slightly to show her fear over this outcome should it come to pass. Alicja had begun to grow somewhat depressed at Dyril’s initial words, thinking that her newly discovered sister would now perhaps choose to leave - the Mazeltof were clearly of no use to a trader now. If anything, being associated with the family would pose a grave danger to her life were it discovered. She was about to say that perhaps it was best she return home and stay away from this mess when Dyril spoke again, surprising Alicja.
Ignoring the obvious fearful displays in Kiseo, Dyril thought a moment, "Placing that concern aside, I can't leave my half sister in jail to rot... now can I? So what have you gotten in mind so far?"
Alicja opened her mouth in surprise. She thought to say something, but her mind was momentarily blank. All she could really do was launch herself at Dyril and hug her tightly. She did not pause to think that perhaps Dyril would not take kindly to physical contact with a near-stranger - even if her own sister. But then again, Alicja was a Mazeltof, and blood transcended all other things to them.
Upon feeling the younger girl make contact with her body, Dyril immediately stiffened in reaction. Her breath was held in complete shock at the open display of affection causing her mind to struggle with understanding how she felt. She lowered her dark eyes to question Alicja’s sanity at the same time while waiting patiently for an explanation and not to instantly shove the woman off her. Elves rarely, if ever, showed physical affection toward their blood relatives unless they weren’t past walking age.
‘You really are a Mazeltof!’ she said, and in her surprise and excitement she did so louder than she meant.
“Shhh!” Dyril hissed at Alicja’s outburst, fighting the urge to shove her hand upon the younger girl’s lips, “Only half and keep in mind, my reasons for being involved are purely selfish. I won’t be directly helping as much as you want to believe, but I can at least ensure you don’t get caught. Now… do you even have a plan for how to get her out?”
Alicja largely ignored Dyril’s attempts to emphasise her selfishness as she returned to her seat - she had no doubt that she was just trying to be modest. Or perhaps it was a certain degree of pride and stubbornness - which the Mazeltof certainly did not lack! - that caused her to insist that her motives were purely selfish. As it were, Alicja did not truly believe it. It was good that there was one more Mazeltof in the world, that was for sure.
‘Yes, we do have a plan. Kind of,’ Alicja said, ‘we’ve been keep a close eye on the Nyhem keep ever since we learnt of Pearl’s presence there. We’re trying to get a few of our men on the inside - friends of Sir Ramfrey’s who are willing to help. We haven’t yet managed to get them on the inside, but hopefully soon. Once we do, getting in will be a far simpler matter. But we haven’t yet planned the details if I’m to be honest.’
“Details are certainly important,” Dyril inhaled then gestured for Kiseo to bring her paper and a quill, the Mao quick to obey her mistress’ orders. Upon rummaging through their belongings, the ex-slave produced the requested items and set them on the table before the women. The half elf pushed the parchment apart until it laid flat upon the surface before she reached for the quill, shook the extra ink and then passed it to Alicja, “This is best done in your own writing. The parchment, aged as it is, is sourced from Formaroth and has a very faint possibility of being traced back to me. However, I can arrange a few pieces to have gone missing and this isn’t enough to get me into trouble.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, Dyril thought, “Let’s make a list of what we need first of all. How well do you know the outlay of the city? Do you have a few safe routes out of it that can increase your safe passage out even if the guards are alerted?” Alicja furrowed her eyebrows for a few seconds before responding.
‘I know my way around Nyhem well enough, but it’s Sir Ramfrey who really know the various safe passages and contacts. Christian’s been learning from him and has joined him when he went to speak to our various…accomplices. I’ve tried to stay out of the light as much as possible - it wouldn’t be good if someone saw me and recognised me after all.’
“As far as anyone knows, you and your ally came to inform me that my ‘family’ no longer had interest in our dealings. Merely passing travelers who owed a favor which allows me deniability should this plan go south,” Dyril cut in in order to cover an overlooked detail, through she inwardly hoped things would work out in the end, “So you have ways out. Do you have safe points along those routes in which you can pause, hide and avoid capture? I ask because I can’t imagine Pearl being in the best of health while imprisoned. She will need time to recover after a long period of running or she’ll falter and you’ll need places you can adjust your path when needed.”
‘Yes, Sir Ramfrey has it all taken care of. His friends are fairly...uh, familiar with the more clandestine aspects of the city. They’ll be able to hide us if and when necessary. Though we hope to be out of Nyhem immediately after rescuing Pearl. While it may be a good idea to stay hidden inside the city for a while - something they wouldn’t suspect - I really don’t want to stay here more than absolutely necessary.’
“Do you have an idea what night, assuming you’re doing it at that time, you will be doing the actual event?” Dyril asked, hoping it won’t be tonight on the day she arrived. It screamed coincidence and likely would draw unwanted attention right to her causing her endless trouble, “I hope not for a few days. Are there any events, like celebrations or similar activities, coming up that could be used to assist your dealings?”
‘As we haven’t yet got a man on the inside, we don’t have an exact date for our rescue attempt. I would say we would want to do it as soon as we have someone on the inside. And I really am not too familiar with Nyhem’s celebrations - I doubt there will be any celebrations given the ongoing war. There...there’s always executions though. They attract a fair bit of attention, that’s for sure.’ A small scowl darkened her face at this, and the light-hearted, sometime sad, Alicja seemed momentarily replaced by something darker and angrier. But only momentarily.
“Tuck that emotion somewhere for later,” Dyril’s tone was nearly commanding in nature, but she quickly reined it back before she continued, “Right now, it won’t help you. Instead it will only serve to distract and hurt you more when it comes to saving our family.” Alicja nodded slightly, taking a deep breath and looking at the ground for a few moments.
As she eyed Alicja, waiting for her to calm, Dyril continued, “The grisly facts aside, an execution will work as long it is close to evening. The worry I have is that none of you can see in the dark and torch light is easily seen...” Alicja looked up at Dyril in confusion. An execution? She could not mean...
“Night sight, Kiseo can,” Chimed in the Mao, her eyes fixed on the pair. Looking distractedly at Kiseo, she eventually realised what the Mao had said.
‘W-wait, you can see at night?’ she asked in surprise.
“Shi,” Kiseo said as her left paw held up and fisted, the knuckles faced toward the woman. The Mao hadn’t realized she has slipped back into her native language until she caught the disgruntled expression from Dyril, her eyes immediately lowered in shame and her tail pressed against the back of her thighs.
Dyril inhaled then firmly spoke, “Correct yourself.”
“Mistress, yes,” Kiseo said then turned to Alicja for a moment and repeated herself in Formaroth, “Yes. night sight Kiseo has. Other skills I have too like climbing and jumping and navigating routes which is new. Help these would?” Alicja blinked a few times and a small smile spread across her lips. She looked at Dyril knowingly.
“I know that look...you have an idea?” Dyril’s tone was cautious but intrigued by this knowledge. ‘I think that skillset is going to prove very helpful, yes. We have been struggling to get someone on the inside so they can open the gates for us, but if we have Kiseo that matter is sorted,’ she leaned towards Dyril, ‘look, we are going to get a report from our sources tomorrow, I am certain that by now they have some kind of idea on when it would be best to attempt the rescue. Once they have contacted me I will let you know and we will work out what to do from there,’ she smiled excitedly at her sister and looked at Kiseo as though the Mao was a ladder leading to paradise. She had slowly lost hope over the previous few weeks, but now at last it seemed like the rescue would be able to go forward. She looked back at Dyril, ‘where shall we meet next? We can’t meet here again or else we might attract unwanted attention…’
Dyril turned on her heel and thought a moment, her mind turning its gears for a moment. She stepped toward the window and spied the ships in the distance giving her an idea, “What about the docks? With a bit of filth and shoddy clothing, you could easily pass yourself off as worker who’s assisting in hauling off the goods from the ship and storing them. This gives you primary excuse to talk with me over ‘payment’ without arising suspicion.”
Her eyes turned to Kiseo before adding, “Kiseo is going to be delivering messages to the docks daily. This means she can also deliver one to someone you trust and have it to get back to you. Each one will hold my next location and when, leaving it up to you to make it nature over how we meet. This should make a pattern difficult to detect when it comes to our meetings.”
She inhaled a moment, “Does this sound suitable for you?” Alicja looked at Dyril with unconcealed admiration, she was so...calm. And gave off an effortless air of control and authority - as though nothing could happen without her knowing it or catch her unprepared.
‘Yes, very suitable,’ she nodded, ‘thank you Dyril.’ Alicja moved forward to hug her in goodbye but then paused uncertainly. She had not seemed too comfortable being hugged before. ‘Uh, I am going to go now, so...well. Mazeltofs are close, and...well, when we say goodbye we…’ she suddenly felt rather awkward. How did one explain something that came so naturally...and yet did not seem to for Dyril.
“So that hug was something the Mazeltofs do. Pardon my reaction, I’m not used to such gestures. In fact, any gestures of praise, acceptance or love are rather foreign to me because I’m the hidden shame of my family,” Dyril admitted, her emotions about it hidden well. Kiseo, however, edged closer and seemed to adopt a sense of sorrow over the mention. Her tail was stilled and a slight sound, muffled by her closed mouth, fell upon the air though Alicja might’ve missed the noise if she hadn’t been within the same room.
“Know how to react she does not,” came the reply from the Mao. Alicja nodded slightly, though her eyes were wide with shock. The idea of...not being accepted by one's own family. It hurt. She approached Dyril and placed a firm hand on her shoulder, but went no further.
‘Dyril, you are not the hidden shame of this family. You are our discovered pride. We are honoured to have a sister like you - and I am sure father would have loved you very much had he lived to see you. Keep your chin up, you are a Mazeltof.’ And with that, Alicja stepped back with a final smile, paused to wave goodbye to Kiseo, and swiftly left the room.
Ramfrey and Aulus meet outside the inn and get to know each other some They're both suspicious of one another at first, but eventually, Aulus invites Ramfrey for a drink - paying with the two bronze coins Alicja had given him out of pity They introduce themselves and talk a bit After some time, Ramfrey offers Aulus some work with his 'friends' Aulus accepts and is told to meet Ramfrey the following day They then get into a 'fight' and Aulus us kicked out of the tavern. Quite literally.
Nyhem, 503 A.R
'So who's your lady friend?' Aulus asked, shifting his position slightly as he spoke. It could get rather uncomfortable sitting on cold, hard stone for extended periods of time - and he had found that the life of a tramp involved much of that. The giant man had frozen in place at Aulus' words, but now turned around ever so slowly, his hand on the hilt of his sword. The giant's steel blue eyes met Aulus' dark green ones. For a few moments, both were silent as strangers passed by - some brushing past the giant to get into the inn. 'What's it to you?' The man finally responded, his steel blue eyes still eating at Aulus' features as though attempting to carve them into his memory. Aulus raised the coin that the woman had thrown to him earlier to his eyes and looked at it again. 'A bronze coin. Two of them,' he revealed another in his other hand, 'she's either very generous or she's so rich that money is of no...uh, that money ain't nothing to her.' The giant's eyes narrowed, and Aulus knew immediately that he had noticed the quick change in his dialect. Even for a rampant tavern-goer like himself, it was not always easy to maintain low-born speech.
'Too generous, I'd say. Can't be giving away what little mo-' he stopped himself from saying any more. 'You're not from around here are you?' The giant said. Aulus eyed him suspiciously. 'In days like these, there are plenty here or ain't from here, mate.' Aulus threw one of the coins to the giant, 'give it back to your lady, I don't want her coin.' The big man caught it and threw it back. 'It was a gift. Bad manners to give a gift back,' Aulus caught it and held it up to his eyes again as the man spoke, 'what's your name boy? You're not fooling me, I can see you're no tramp.' Aulus scoffed and got up. 'See better then, innit?' He looked around before glancing at the big man, 'you in a hurry?' Aulus asked. The man shook his head. 'Not really, no.' 'Come, lets 'ave a drink you an' I. Your lady's paying,' and he shook one of the coins in his hand before walking into the inn. 'I don't think they'll like your types in there,' the big man warned as he followed. Aulus scoffed. 'The kind what can pay? I think they'll like me quite a lot!' Bad as a tavern could smell, Aulus' presence made it only worse and he did not get any kind looks for that. When both men were seated at a table, each nursing a flagon between his hands, the big man saw it fit to ask his question again. 'So, you never told me your name.' Aulus gave him another suspicious look. 'Big man like you, walking around with important people with coins to give away, swingin' that sword about. You lot are plottin' something ain'tcha? I think I should be asking who you are, not the other way round. I'm nobody, after all, just a tramp on the side o' the road. But you...you're somebody, ain't that right?' The big man's blue eyes narrowed once again. 'So you admit you're a spy. Who sent you?' Aulus chuckled and shook his head. 'Me? A spy? I mean, I could. I'd be a good spy I think. I'd be a great spy actually,' he took a sip of ale, 'but nah, I'm no spy. You have my word on that.' 'A word is worth nothing here.' The big man said coldly. Aulus cocked his head and a thoughtful look entered his eyes. 'It...it's worth a lot where am from.' The two looked at each other for a while, as though trying to read what was going on behind the other's eyes. 'The name's Aulus. Aulus Hu-' he looked at the big man again, 'Aulus Eskandar'. He extended his grubby and calloused hand to the other man. After a few moment's thought, the man did the same. 'The name's Ramfrey Hansard,' he said as he shook smiling Aulus' hand. 'And I take it you are a knight.' Aulus said knowingly. Ramfrey smiled. 'Aye, and I take it you're more than just a tramp. What gave me away eh?' 'Aye, I am far more than a tramp. I am a king of tramps, feasting on ale in the finest tavern in Nyhem with a knight.' Ramfrey raised an eyebrow but noted that the younger man had once more avoided giving much about himself away. 'Eskandar huh? Not a name I've heard before.' Ramfrey took a small drink. 'I'm not surprised, there's nothing much to tell about us.' Aulus responded with a shrug, 'dad was once a little lord with a little keep. Lorded it over a few miserable peasants, and then he died. The story's always the same - no matter how high or low a lord you are,' there was the hint of bitterness in his voice. 'Aye, can't argue with that,' Ramfrey said with a sigh. After a few moments he leaned in and whispered, 'I'm guessing you took the wrong side in this war, eh?' Aulus looked at him carefully before taking another drink. 'Aye, I did. I took no side, and there is no worse place to be.' Ramfrey smiled and shook his head. This one was a slippery weasel when he wanted to be it seemed. But he did not seem like a liar. 'It's rare that one has the luxury of a choice in these things.' Ramfrey noted. Aulus shook his head slightly. 'No, Sir Ramfrey. There's always a choice. But some people are too honourable, too loyal, too proud, too stubborn...too brave to even consider it.' He drank again, 'I wasn't tied down by such things.' 'Well, you don't seem like the bad so-' 'I think...' Aulus suddenly said, 'I think I might have betrayed him. A little.' 'Betrayed who?' Ramfrey asked. Aulus looked at the big man before shaking his head. 'Nah, it's nothin', big guy.' The two sat and drank in silence for some time, Aulus lost in thought and Ramfrey watching him.
'You know, I know people here. I'm sure you have skills that some would pay a pretty penny for.' Aulus looked up at Ramfrey, his eyes slightly unfocused. 'What? You mean work?' Ramfrey nodded. Aulus scoffed. 'I've not worked a day in me life. Not gonna start now, good sir knight!' Ramfrey shrugged and got up. 'Well, if ya change your mind you can find me at-' 'Woah woah, keep your breeches on. Sit down and tell me what this work is. Plus, you still haven't told me about that beautiful lady of yours,' Ramfrey chuckled and shook his before sitting back down and leaning in. His face very suddenly became serious. 'Don't you mock my lady, do you understand me?' there was a rather dangerous glint in his steel blue eyes that took Aulus off guard. 'I'm not moc-' 'Don't do it,' Ramfrey repeated. Aulus raised his hands in surrender. 'I won't. I didn't. I mean, I didn't see much with that cloak o' hers up, but what I saw was beautiful - I am not mocking.' Ramfrey nodded slowly in understanding. 'Ah, I apologise if I came across as terse. I forgot that she had her hood up.' Aulus frowned slightly. 'Is...is she alright under there?' Ramfrey looked at Aulus with slight suspicion. 'You will understand if I refuse to speak anymore about my lady. You will do well to ask no questions.' Aulus nodded quickly and took another drink from his flagon. 'Tha's alright. We all have our secrets. What kind of work is it you're talking about?'
'One of my...colleagues is looking for a quick lad. Needs to know how to hide some. Needs to know how to run away.' Aulus smirked and looked around the tavern before looking back at Ramfrey. 'If you want a man who knows how to run away, then you've got your man.' Ramfrey leaned in close. 'Needs to to know how to keep his mouth shut too.' Aulus fumbled for words at this, a slightly guilty look in his eyes. 'Uh, well. Maybe not so great at that. But always a first time.' Ramfrey gave him a cold look, 'alright alright, I'll keep me mouth shut. Won't talk a word about anything to anyone.' 'Good. Tomorrow I'll pass by the docks just after midday. When you see me, follow me real. Make sure no one sees you following me. Make sure no one follows you, got it?' Aulus nodded. 'Well you're a bloody oaf if I ever saw one!' Ramfrey suddenly said, rather loudly, 'you promished me three drinks dammit!' Aulus hesitated but quickly got the gist of what was happening. 'Shaddup ya big oaf, ah beatcha fair an' square is yous should be gettin me drinks!'
Seeing a clear tavern fight in the making, one of the inn's guards grabbed Aulus by the scruff of the neck and roughly escorted Aulus - shouting about his promised ale - out of the inn. Throwing him into a nearby alley, the guard gave the tramp a kick for good luck before getting back indoors. 'Didn' have ta kick me dammit,' Aulus groaned as he rubbed his sore butt.
“I think that’s it,” Dyril said as she finished writing the list of her wares.
Her hunched over figure lifted upright and her dark eyes looked over the Mao at her side. Kiseo appeared rather nervous about her given task as she cautiously took the extended letter from Dyril’s hand and pocketed it into her satchel. She still held bags under her feline eyes thanks to the disrupted slumber during her first experience in a real bed. It was obviously miserable for her all night thank to the anxiety and restlessness causing her to tumble to the floor where she at last fell into a deep slumber.
The next morning, they both had risen early to categorize their goods locked within the ship and determine how much gold was required to make this trip worth it. Through not dwarven metal, any profit was going to benefit them in the long run for the war happening back home. At least until Dyril’s grandfather discovered her current situation and either forced her back home or completely disowned her, neither were pleasant as it meant complete isolation.
Dyril inhaled a breath to sooth her nerves before she nudged Kiseo along to her given task. There was still much for the half elven woman to attend to, primarily getting her wares somewhere else and stored safely until they were sold.
Kiseo bowed her head obediently before she vanished into the crowded streets of Nyhem.
~~|An Hour later|~~
After asking around and trying to navigate her way through numerous buildings, Kiseo managed to simply become ‘lost’ in one section of the city. While she knew the way back to the docks, going forward with little knowledge of how was simply impossible for now. Anxiety built in her core when she approach a pair of guards standing on a path’s corner and surveying the crowded streets of merchants to common folks, all attending to their daily business. It was a nerve wrecking start that ended up causing her to slip into her native language on instinct. This drew a look from both men as one nodded his head then turned to her, requesting she wait with him.
She nodded her understanding through she was not exactly enthusiastic about it since it meant she might’ve caused trouble for Dyril now. After several minutes passed, the second guard arrived with two other men who bore the familiar symbol of the Thale Manor. Kiseo’s shoulders immediately relaxed upon the sight and she stepped forward, her words spoken in broken Formaroth with a request to see Magister Lady Dionisa.
After hearing her request, they escorted her to the Thale Manor. Kiseo memorized their path for the future as she timidly stepped into the grand doors and was ordered to wait in the grandhall while a servant fetched Lady Dionisa. Forced to wait, the Mao observed the room.
Lana was in her study on the top floor, looking over various documents from the palace. It was a boring job, and most of the reports of ‘magical activity’ from around the city and its surroundings were superstitious, ill-informed or attention seeking. The few genuine ones were typically explainable quite easily and not worth investigating. The rest of the stack of paper was logistics, and even more boring the fearful ramblings of the peasants. It had been one thing to manage House Thale, but her workload had near quadrupled with her promotion. Frankly, she didn’t know how Aurelia had dealt with it. It certainly explained her friends lack of time. At this rate she was genuinely toying with the possibility of delegating the Thale management to someone else, to say nothing of managing the task of restoring her own families recently re-granted assets.
She was pleasantly interrupted from the tedious yet necessary paperwork by the chime of an ethereal bell - caused by the disruption of a subtle sustained illusion around her room - a warning spell to tell her when people approached. She shuffled the papers to the side and walked towards the door - reaching it just in time for a polite knock, followed by a servant’s voice.
“Mistress, there is a…” The voice - Lana could now tell it belonged to the dark haired maid Mary - faltered. “Creature… to see you downstairs.”
Taking a short moment to secure an illusory dress of black of and purple over her form, she then opened the door and thanked Mary, before descending to the hall on the first floor. As she appeared, she noted the presence of the Knight of St. Eleanor assigned to guard her - who immediately stood slightly taller when he noticed her. She also noticed the creature that had accompanied the Elf earlier admiring some of the plants set around the edges of the room.
“Kiseo, was it?” Lana said, sure that she was butchering the name. Learning elven was one of the things she had always intended to do… eventually.
“It is Key-see-o, not Kay-see-o, Magister,” Kiseo politely corrected as she retracted her attention from the nearest potted plant. Both her hands gripped the scroll and held it in front of her, aware she still had to deliver it. Her tail curled tightly against her backside. It didn’t sway like in the carriage as her mind was still wary of the last time her tail became too relaxed.
Swallowing her emotions, Kiseo stepped forward to out hold the scroll, “Inventory request from mistress. Please the Magister, I hope, and detailed it is.”
There was obvious struggle with the words she chose as she attempted to adjust her own understanding, but still seemed to fail to grasp the foundation rules over the language.
“Thank you” Lana said, taking the scroll. She held it delicately, but did not open it. “I will look at it later. Did you wish to stay here a while and speak?” She asked expectantly. It was difficult to read the creature's emotions - a rather disconcerting element for Lana - though she was already applying her shape-shifting lessons for learning about creatures in order to gain that basic knowledge. She had no intent to study this creature enough to take its shape, but some basic knowledge was vital and would likely help facilitate communication.
“Not use to talking free is me so please forgive. About many things, I am curious like clothes of yours… but normal ones rustle, these don’t,” Kiseo stated, attempting to make her sentences a bit more clearer, as her tone took on a questioning one. She wasn’t fully sure she was speaking as well as she wanted, her curiosity getting into the way and trying to edge her into speaking Mao when her mistress forbade her to. Part of her wished there was some type of magic that might make communication easier.
Lana’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she comprehended the words of the creature. That was not an element of her illusion she usually worried about - most people were not attentive enough to notice. “Why don't you come with me and we can speak a little more privately?” Lana said, turning on her heel and moving further into the house - up to the second story and to a sitting room that had a view of the evening sun. The Knight followed her, but she instructed him to remain outside the door.
“Yes, Magister,” Kiseo said seeing no way out of this without being impolite. Being within an individual’s home without Dyril made the Mao overly aware of her surroundings and she intended on avoiding a misstep that might cause issues for her Mistress in the future. Inhaling, she moved quickly behind the woman whose clothes weren’t following the natural laws as she made sure to keep an eye on her tail. The moment the Knight moved, her movement hesitated for a second causing her head to tilt to the right. She had learned in her youth that following steps often lead to trouble when she wasn’t always aware of their location. It was a habit she never broke for fear of suffering pain and misery like the first time.
She was relieved when the man was asked to remain outside and edged cautiously into the room. Feeling the light upon her fur, the sun peaking through the window and warming her, caused a soft rattling to erupt from her throat much like a purring cat. However, Kiseo didn’t close her eyes slowly to enjoy it for long as her attention turned to the master of the home.
Lana basked in the fading sunlight, appreciating the light warmth on the skin, but moreso the cascade of color on the horizon - a display that was far more magical to her than anything she could conjure to fool the masses. Even as she appreciated the light, anothe rpart of her mind noted every motion and sound that came from her guest. The latest sounds suggesting even more that Kiseo was essentially a giant, intelligent cat.
“Are you familiar with magic and how it is used in Formaroth?” She asked as a lead up to what she was going to tell the creature.
Kiseo’s attention was drawn from her distraction and her eyes darted to the Magister. Her purring had immediately ceased as she studied the woman’s words, then replied, “A knowledge little, I do… yes.”
Her ears erected with an alertness while her foot twitched, eager to move from her spot and pace. However, good training and fear kept it in check. She fixed her unblinking eyes upon the woman before she added more, “In Formaroth, no sadly, because little we found.”
It was completely true, through Kiseo was careful she didn’t detail her knowledge source or how. She might’ve had the talent but Dyril, despite being a non mage, knew far more then herself. The hybrid studied material when she had nothing else to do. This impressed even the priests when conversations reared up over the topic, but they still frowned upon her inability to cast the fine arts and often moved back to their own company. It didn’t help Dyril’s family would often interfere with matters of trade and other subjects that required immediate attention, preventing additional progression from her runt rank among the family.
Lana took in the words carefully, unsure yet if they were chosen carefully or if Kiseo really had such a poor grasp of her language. Still, she pressed on. “Ah. Magister, my title, denotes many things, but one is my skill with magic. There are greater titles than mine, but they are few. I am versed in several schools of magic, including illusion, which I spent several years teaching at the Circle of Mages, Formaroth’s premier center for magical learning. I am among the most capable of mages in this city.”
Kiseo decided to nod this time rather than say yes. It indicated she understood the rank and importance that Lana held within the city, a fact she had figured out beforehand during her conversation with Dyril. Being a lower ranking individual, correcting her better was very much frowned upon causing her to resist commenting on it.
“Well respected, you would be back at home,” she added, her voice quieted a bit with the words.
“Oh, I’m sure.” Lana said, before catching herself. “Though, my dear, I do not flaunt my titles to impress, or claim superiority. Merely to provide context. Are you curious why you cannot hear my clothing?” Lana asked. She wanted to see if the creature would press for an answer, and indulge in some curiosity.
“Yes, am I. Interesting to see if … guesses of mine are right,” Kiseo said perhaps a bit too eagerly. She suspected maybe they weren't real at all or merely magical in nature, an illusion or expensive cloth designed to be silent. Either way, it was best to get the actual answer from the woman herself than continue to make theories over it.
Lana smiled, ever so slightly mischievously. It wasn’t often she got to show off her illusory skills - though for good reason. They worked better the fewer people knew of them…
She raised her right hand to her left shoulder, her fingers aglow as they touched the mock ‘fabric.’ Sliding them fairly quickly down her arm, she dissipated the illusory sleeve, showing the bare skin of her arm beneath. “That is why my clothes make no sound.” She said with just a hint of pride. Restoring the illusion as quickly as she removed it, she continued speaking, slipping into her ‘teacher’ tone of voice. “It would be quite rude to look too closely at me now you know this little secret. Disbelieving another mages illusion is simply not done in polite company.”
Kiseo’s eyes widened slightly. Not because she had never seen magic performed, the act rather uncommon among the higher society Elves like Dyril, but because she was correct in her theory. The clothes weren’t real at all. Her tail twitched in excitement like a cat that had found a mouse in the grass and held intentions to toy with it before moving on. The motion reminded her of Lana’s reprimand earlier in the carriage about being careful not to let her tail stray too close to another’s personal space causing her hand to jerk out to the side and bat it back behind her.
“Not hard, that is,” Kiseo began to explain, “Not the first mage I’ve meet, but taught well I am. No worries.”
Another question surfaced within the Mao, “Illusion magic is all you know?”
“I am talented in many fields of magic.” Lana said proudly. “But it would be foolish of me to reveal all of my talents to one I barely know…” She continued slyly. “Perhaps I will demonstrate some more spells if you answer some of my questions first?” She did not wait for a reply before launching into the main question she had. “Tell me, does your species possess the gift? Are there those among you that can perform magic?”
Kiseo tilted her head, her eyes narrowed and thought for a moment. The subject became dangerously close to home for her as she sought the correct method to use in order to handle the answer. She decided to go with what the Priests had once told Dyril’s grandfather, both lucky enough to be in the room when it happened, and play it safe. She exhaled before she answered the question, “Mao, not many. An unlucky few.”
Lana was puzzled at that response. She quickly thought through the possible meanings while comparing with what she knew of the Elven culture and law. The possible conclusions she came to didn’t make much sense to her, and were not good overall. Narrowing her eyes, she asked “What do you mean by unlucky few…. Magic is a gift.”
Kiseo lowered her eyes, her posture submissive and guarded as she explained, “Elves, it is a gift. Any race beneath them are slaves and the experience, frightening it is. Magical slaves are taken from masters and sell again to Priests. Experiments they are use for, often maim or dies.”
At the words, the Mao was instinctively trying to sooth over her anxiety on the topic. Her tail remained still and close to her body as her hands began to rub at her lower arms, her chest inhaling deeply then exhaled in a steady rhythm over and over. After a few moments, she managed to collect her calm once more. Her head lifted upright to bring her vision to Lana’s chest out of instinct.
Lana’s face contorted in shock at the prospect that any mage - no matter the species - could be experimented on until they died. It was disgusting. Just as bad as the burnings in Formaroth. “I had no idea…” She began. “No clue that Elven culture was so brutal to my kind…” Suddenly, she was quite glad she had never visited elven lands, for, with no elven blood, she would likely classify as one to be enslaved by their standards. At one time, she had considered reaching out to the elves to assist her plans, but this revelation quite firmly removed that consideration.
Kiseo resisted the urge to console the broken belief, a reality she once experienced herself. Her expression softened as she took a step closer, hoping her present might help, and continued to speak, “Truth, dirtier it is than hope. Rare immunity diplomats share, but stay in their host’s lands they must or risk slavery.”
“Wise words.” Lana began. “But they do little to console my conscience… Perhaps one day I shall be able to extend my plans to bring freedom there as well-” She caught herself abruptly, realising what she had just said aloud, and to whom. “But enough of that. How are you finding the fair city of Nyhem so far?” She mentally chastised herself as she rapidly switched the topic. This was not her first slip up in remembering that she was among mundane company. It would have to be her last though.
The Mao nodded her head as she observed the woman. There was a moment lapse in compassion, something that made the Magister almost human, but she expected never to see it. The sight was refreshing compared to the sober Elven senate whose expression seemed more rigid and stiff compared to humans.
“Streets, confusing they is. Adjust, I shall with time before I can… navigate the city without getting lost,” She mentioned, taking the topic shift presented without protest. She let the answer linger a moment then added, “Any other questions, is there?”
“Are you curious about this city? Or Formaroth in general?” Lana asked, starting to get a little annoyed at the extreme deference her guest was showing. “I studied a great deal about the culture and history of Formaroth while I was in the Circle of Mages. There are few in this city better equipped to answer questions than I about such things. You should ask while you have the chance.”
“Many questions I have, but doubtful I am they can be cover by this visit. This is my first city since leaving the Imperium and very odd it is, not to see slaves roaming about in routines to their masters,” the Mao pointed out. This was the first thing she noticed that differed between Formaroth and the Elven Lands, one that held mixed emotions in her mind. Slaves were highly dependent on their masters which made freedom both a blessing and a curse in her mind.
Her head tilted for a moment, her right ear tilted downward in thought then snapped back up again, “Magical talents not practice, what happens to mage? I have only seen a few mages but little knowledge.”
“That is an… odd question.” Lana began. She didn’t know why any mage would not want to practice their talents. Even those hiding from the stake often still practiced in secret. “Though it is not something that has been tested much, to the best of my knowledge, it will not diminish the potential, nor raise it. Magic is like a limb, in a way. You must know how to use it, and regularly exercise it to get any results from it. If you did not use your arm, it would still be attached to you.” It was an awkward metaphor, but it was the one she was taught and the one she repeated on the rare occasion something like this came up. “The one difference, and danger, of not learning magic, is that in times of great stress people can occasionally manifest raw and uncontrolled spells. These can be a danger to not only those around the latent mage, but the mage herself. And so it is best for everyone if those with the gift recieve at least some training.”
Lana finished her lecturing response, but before more could be said quickly added “Do you know someone who is hiding their talent? I can endorse their tutelage at the Summer Isles, or at least teach them myself how not to lose control of magic in a time of stress…” She was genuinely concerned as she spoke, though in the back of her mind she was going through possibilities already. There were not many people Kiseo could know in Formaroth...
At the mention her question being an odd one and the brief pause, Kiseo’s heart thumped hard against her chest. It rattled and briefly skipped its pace causing her to inhale deeply through her nose to catch her breath. She had been caught up in getting some critical questions asked about magic, hopefully to benefit herself, that she hadn’t realized how sloppy she became with the wording. Even worst there was a fact that training was unavoidable which wasn’t something that she hoped to hear from the Magister. She would’ve been happy if her magic had just faded away or became a limp, useless ‘arm’, a view much different than the woman before her.
Upon being asked about if she knew anyone, a lie was already forming in her head. Instinctively, her right paw like hand rubbed at her side where the faded scars of her whipping still remained. They weren’t as terrible as they should’ve been because she could harden her skin and protected herself during the event. Thankfully, Dyril’s family didn’t bother to assess the damage afterwards or she would’ve been sent away.
Deep down, she hoped her next words would be a convincing enough lie, “Witness I did a slave once demonstrate magic back home. A Mao he was, like me. Frightened when a banded crocodile, vicious and large, attack and he set on fire protecting a young straying kit to the edge of the river. Suppose to be helping him I am, but distracted I am with the other kits. After separate from us, never forget his face I shall. It is of pure horror and cause me to wonder if intentional or uncontrol outburst.”
She hoped the lie sounded convincing enough to ease the Magister’s unsettling attention and then bowed her head, her body bent at the waist as she added, “Thank you. Much clearer that incident is in my mind.”
“I see” Lana replied. It was an interesting tale, but the whole conversation didn’t quite line up in her head. She had a feeling that there was more to this subject that Kiseo wasn’t telling her… But for now, it was neither terribly important nor particularly polite to press for more, and so she respected the apparent desire to change the subject.
“Going, I should. Dyril is waiting for me and much still to do,” Kiseo bravely began to say in order to allow a smooth departure as she waited for the Magister to release her. It was hard to tell if her lie was working as it had been woven on the spot, a mix of truth and lies from her past, and her eyes pointedly fixed upon the woman for longer than was ideal for someone in her stature. At least in Imperium lands.
She inhaled softly through her nose then thought to add an afterthought,” See you again, can I?”
“Of course. Though I may not always be available immediately, you will always be welcome in Thale manor.”
Andrew braced himself for the battle that was to come. He was currently alone in the war tent and sat quietly in his chair as he mulled over his thoughts. Though he remained optimistic for the battle that was to come he knew that a victory would not be without heavy casualties. The forces of both House Neptuna and the Coruneon garrison had arrived just two days prior to the predicted arrival of the Concord's forces. Andrew had ordered the Alliances army to ensemble just to the west of Clarm; though rocky, the terrain was flat and open meaning the Alliance's Calvary charge straight at the Concord army without hindrance from cliffs or mountains; they would be vital to winning this battle. In the quietness of the tent Andrew though back to his wife and nieces; what would happen to them if Andrew lost? Would the concord show them mercy or execute them to make an example. Andrew shook his head, he couldn't afford such thoughts to plague his mind. From outside the tent a deep warning horn sounded. The Concord had finally arrived. Andrew Emerged from his tent where he found a servant guiding his horse towards the tent. Andrew mounted and cantered towards the battlefield. As he approached his army the various troops in front of him made way for their leader as he rode up towards the front lines. The front lines were composed entirely of the Alliances Calvary and elephants; Andrew hoped to weaken the concords forces with his cavalry and elephants before the infantry joined the fray. As he reached the very front of the Formation he was greeted by Daeron
"They have arrived my friend, with numbers and weapons far greater than our own" As Daeron spoke Andrew glared at his opponent. Daeron was right, the Imperial army greatly outnumbered his own and Patrick already had his men in formation despite only just arriving. "If you have a invigorating speech prepared now would be the time" Daeron said with a half hearted laugh. It was clear from the troops faces that their confidence was wavering. As Daeron had suggested, Andrew decided to raise Moral. Andrew rode out in front of the army, while not everyone would be able to hear his speech, the battalion commanders would be sure to repeat it.
"Listen to me men, across from us stands our enemy, those who wish to take away our freedom and way of life. If we win this battle we have a chance to win this damn war, to declare freedom from the concord and change Formaroth for the better, when we return to our homelands we shall return not as soldiers but as hero's, charge into battle knowing your names will be forged in history" Andrew shouted with a triumphant roar and the alliance roared in response. While their fear was not completely gone it helped them to know that their leader would be fighting alongside them. Andrew turned to face the concord army before yelling the order that would start the battle. "CHARGE"
Patrick had found a good cliff to the side of the battlefield, from here he could see the battle in it's entirety while keeping a safe distance. He was vital to the concord and unlike Andrew he wasn't foolish enough to throw himself into the heart of battle in the name of honor and glory. Beside him rode Eli and Grandin. Orland was supposed to join them, however he decided to fight alongside his men in a final attempt to regain his honor. Alongside the three Kings were various flag holders with a array of different shaped and coloured flags. These men would be vital in communicating Patrick's orders to the rest of the army. Patrick had ordered the concords forces to march in formation before they even neared Clarm; he didn't want to risk the alliance catching them off guard. The front lines of the Concord's forces were comprised of militia from various kingdoms, much to the levies displeasure. While they wouldn't stand a chance against the alliances cavalry they would serve well to protect the professional soldiers. Interestingly enough, Beatrice Blackwell and the elite dragonguard had chosen to fight on the front lines, where they were at most risk.
"It is brave of your sister to fight on the front lines" Patrick said to Eli.
Eli smiled, thinking of his burly sister on the front, no doubt champing at the bit for a chance to fight the very best the Alliance had to offer.
“I do not believe that bravery or cowardice are traits Beatrice considers in relation to herself.” Eli replied before continuing after a customary brief pause. “And even if they were… When one has faced down both Dragons and my father on a regular basis, the concept of bravery takes on a rather different meaning.”
Of course, Eli could also be down on the front alongside his forces and family members, but he served them and the army far better from the eagle’s perch Patrick had chosen. Grand strategy was his strength far more than skill with a blade - though that was far from lacking.
“What is brave, however, is your gambit to destroy the elephants. I can think of at least two people that will not be pleased with you when they learn of the cost.”
“Sacrifices must be made in war. Surely you are aware of that?” Patrick said. “Though it is a shame that so many talented mages must die in exchange for our victory” at this a war horn sounded in the distance. As Patrick turned to face the Alliance forces he saw the entire force break into a charge. As he predicted the Elephants lead the charge with the light cavalry following around hundred meters behind. It was time to put initiate his plan. Patrick signaled to one of the flag bearer who responded accordingly.
“Of course it is necessary.” Eli replied without pause irked by his compatriots superior attitude. “I merely warn of the repercussions at home. Now, let us focus on the battle.”
Far above the battlefield a mighty eagle soared. Greater in stature than any seen in nature, this beast had a far superior perspective to even the most well placed of generals. It spied, far below, mighty lumbering behemoths charging fearlessly towards prepared lines of humans. At the core of the line was an unwavering bulwark clad in rough scale that made them appear nearly as beastly as their foe - but to the sides, the other humans cowered and faltered in primal fear - barely holding their place.
The eagle saw these things, but they were not its focus. Its focus was fixed keenly on the small opposition that rode out to challenge the grey behemoths. In groups of five, atop stout steeds they moved with confidence that belied their purpose - to seemingly random positions across the battlefield. When they arrived, they dismounted and joined hands in a number of circles. A faint glow could be seen emanating from the centers of these circles.
The eagle knew what was to happen. Barrels of water had been pre-placed a little further ahead of the mages now at the fore of the battle - not a threat under most circumstances but shortly to become extremely lethal. When the foe reached a certain point in their charge, a signal was given. The light in the circles flashed, and the harmless barrels of water became lethal spikes of ice reaching meters high.
The plan was sound from a purely tactical point of view, but the eagle disapproved all the same. It began to swoop down, its features betraying none of its feelings… And yet, fury and urgency built inside it.
Andrew watched in shock as his elephants fell to the giant ice shards that had seemingly manifested out of thin air. Where had they come from? No mage could summon so much ice without a large water source. The sight of the majestic elephants dying in horrific pain before him saddened him, they hadn’t stood a chance. Upon seeing the the loss of their elephants his infantry slowed their advance, what should they do? Andrew considered falling back and adopting a more defensive position but quickly decided against it. Without the infantry the light cavalry didn’t stand a chance.
“Continue onward” Andrew commanded “We must break through their lines. Do not let their magic scare you, trust in your weapons and your shields and we will be victorious” At this the infantry continued their advance.
When the deed was done, some of the mages staggered and collapsed from exertion. Some helped those that fell, still others looked to their mounts with a desire to flee, though some of said mounts had bolted - terrified by the unholy noise of flesh rending and the piteous sound of elephants in mortal pain.
Some of the mages were swift in their escape, but most were not. Unaccustomed to such positioning and with no attempt made to guard them, they found themselves vulnerable. Thunderous hooves approached, and the mages that had not mounted, or taken to long to, would soon be cut down.
Near the edge of the oncoming line, the eagle swooped down - claws extended, murder in its eyes. There was a cry of shock as it gripped the lead man and tore him clean off his horse before dropping his flailing, bloody body onto the one behind him. That section of the line slowed as the men and horses both spooked from the air attack - giving just a little longer for a few more of the mages to escape to the safety of their own line.
Yet, as the eagle rose in the air once more, it knew the strike would not be enough to save many.
Patrick smiled as the Alliance’s elephants fell. His plan had worked perfectly. Prior to the battle Patrick had scouts place barrels of water across the battlefield. The task was done at night so the alliance didn’t see them and the barrels were painted grey and covered in rocks and foliage so they wouldn’t be noticed from afar. Given this was the only place Andrew could have deployed his cavalry effectively Patrick knew precisely where to have the barrels placed. Patrick signalled his flag bearers
“Signal Henri’s heavy cavalry to prepare themselves, they will be charging soon” At this he turned to face Eli “I truly hope for your sister’s sake your Dragonguard can hold the line” Patrick didn’t sound particularly concerned but unlike normally he didn’t sound scornful either.
Eli did not feel the need to reply, merely smiling, confident in his elite troops ability to stand in the face of any onslaught.
On the front line, as the cavalry approached, a defiant cry of “Death’s no stranger!” erupted from the Blackwell lines. Men and women clad in Dragon scale armor and wielding exotic combinations of two handed weapons and light, paired weapons stood firm.
At the head of the line, Beatrice stood, her wooden greatsword held ready before her. When it was clear the cavalry had committed thoroughly to their charge, she shouted “Dragon’s maw!” It sounded like a curse, an exclamation of shock… But it was not. As one, the previously straight line the Dragonguard had formed shifted. Splitting into columns of four, one column would step forward while the one next to it stepped back, and so on down the line - forming a shape reminiscent of a crenellated wall when viewed from above.
As the cavalry struck - the use of the formation became clear. The staggered line held as the horses slammed into it, though many in the first rank of the forward columns were bowled to the ground or slain by carefully placed lances and blades bypassing their tough armor, it did not matter, for the horsemen that rode into the gaps had fallen for the trap. As the cavalry filled the gaps one and two abreast - seeking to break through the line - they found themselves assailed from three directions at once and quickly cut down. The blades of the Blackwell troops moved quickly and efficiently, unhampered by bulky shields - short blades and axes chopping at legs and horses - long blades striking at the rider's arms and heads.
Though Dragon guard fell on the forward sections, more cavalry fell as they stormed into the gaps - not realising that the breaks in the line were no weakness at all, but planned.
At the front of the central most column - Beatrice stood; bellowing challenges and roaring in defiance as her wooden blade rose and fell. She smashed bones in men and horses alike, shrugging off the impotent return strikes as they slid off her near impenetrable armor. Quickly, a circle formed around her as the troops at her back were struck down while the foes before her stayed back from her where they could. She fought as one possessed, and her valiant display buoyed the Blackwell morale whenever they saw that she was still standing.
At the back of the Blackwell line, a similar circle had formed, but not for the same reasons. An ancient, grey haired man was knelt, head bowed, eyes closed, blade sheathed. The Old Man, meditating, saw no reason to join the battle yet. The deaths of the soldiers meant little to him - they did their jobs on both sides.
The circle around him had formed because the men could not comprehend how a man could meditate on this field of death. They did not understand why he waited, but all feared to question him.
For now, he would wait.
When the time was right, none would stand before him.
Andrew was hopeful as Dearon’s cavalry charge hit the concords lines; the concords militia were unable to resist and the first few lines crumbled completely. Only the lines of the Blackwell’s dragonguard were able to hold formation. However Andrew’s hope soon turned to dread. He had fallen right into Patrick’s trap. From both sides of the battlefield the concord’s heavy cavalry charged towards the Dearon’s forces. Though the alliances riders were skilled they stood no charge against the heavily armoured cavalry of house Anjervine. To make matter’s worse Dearon had no room to maneuver his forces, he was trapped by the concord’s forces on one side, and Andrew’s approaching infantry on the other.
“Forward”! Andrew commanded as he rode on ahead of his infantry. He was eager to get to the heart of the fighting. Dearon was one of his closest friends and Andrew intended to help him however he could. As Andrew drew closer the chaos of the battle became brutally clear. The concord’s militia hadn’t stood a chance and those who had survived the charge were either desperately trying to get behind the lines of the professional troops or were being cut down by the Manshrew cavalry. However things weren’t looking much better for the alliance soldiers, from all sides they were being cut down by imperial blades.
Andrew had ridden straight to the center of the battlefield, near to the Blackwell Dragonguard. This would be where Dearon would be. As Andrew entered the fray an arrow whistled past his head. Andrew blocked with his shield as another arrow came flying towards him. He had been so distracted with blocking the arrow he didn’t notice a man cladded in full plate standing right in front of him. Judging from his armour it looked like he was part of a religious order, likely a fanatic knight from the church of Kelbirthy. The man’s sword went straight through the neck of Andrew’s horse sending him flying across the battlefield. Andrew fell face first and roughly slide across the terrain. As painful as the fall was he knew he had to get up immediately, lying down here would be a death sentence. As he stood up he thanked the gods that he hadn’t broken anything. Charging into battle like this had been a mistake, he had let his emotions and desire to save Dearon get the better of him and now his army had lost their leader. Still it was too late for regret now, he thought as two imperial soldiers charged towards him, one from either side. As the first one stabbed at Andrew with his spear Andrew grabbed the front of the shaft and redirected it behind him. The spear went straight into the neck of the soldier’s comrade, Andrew quickly drew his short sword and slashed across the first soldier’s throat. Once both men fell Andrew drew his second short sword. From the back he could hear the battle cry’s of the alliances infantry and they too joined the fight. A few more of the concord’s soldiers charged at Andrew, desperate to slay the enemy king themselves. Andrew cut each one of them down, one after the other.
“Look out”! Andrew could just about make out Dearon’s yell throughout the deafening sound of the battle. Andrew dodged just in time as an Imperial soldier almost stabbed him in the back. Before the man had time to react a spear came through the air and hit him in the chest. As Andrew looked up he saw that it was Dearon who had thrown it. Andrew quickly fought his way over to his friend.
“I am glad to see your still alive” Andrew shouted
“Well if I wasn’t you wouldn’t be either” Dearon replied pointing over to the soldier he had just killed “This brings back memories” Dearon said before parrying a concord soldier, Andrew took full advantage of the opening and brought both his sword down on the soldier’s neck, killing him instantly. Andrew attention was quickly drawn elsewhere as the sight of Beatrice Blackwell and the Dragonguard came into view. Even through the chaos the towering warmadien of House Blackwell would be impossible to miss.
“Send me more!” Beatrice bellowed as she dispatched the latest of the Alliance soldiers brave enough to take her on. The enemy troops were giving her a lot of space, keeping back as best they could, even as she advanced further and further from friendly lines. She looked around with a fierce expression, and as she made eye contact with each enemy they only recoiled. “Cowards!” She shouted, many of the soldiers recoiling at the very sound of her voice.
Then she spotted the ornate armor and dusky face of her true foe. They had sent her the best - at last. The would be King - Andrew Manshrew. One thought filled her mind at the sight of him: Vengeance at any cost.
She surged towards him, raising her battered wooden sword to attack with a swift vertical blow to the head. Helmet or no - the impact would be punishing if it landed.
As Andrew saw Beatrice charge towards him, he turned to Dearon.
“Guard my back.”
“Ok but be careful. I'll back you up if you need it.” Dearon quickly responded. Andrew smiled, with both short swords he charged to meet her in the midst of battle. As he got closer he saw that she was preparing for a vertical swing. Andrew decided that he would take on a more defensive stance. If he could talk to Beatrice long enough, he could persuade her that the De Reimer’s framed him for the assassination attempt. If he succeeded her family would maybe switch sides. Swords were about to clash, as her sword swung down towards his heads he held his swords like a cross and managed to block the blade. “It's an honour to meet you here Beatrice Blackwell.”
“Shut up and fight me!” Beatrice retorted angrily, rapidly shifting into a swift swing at his side, meant more to disrupt than injure. She hoped for vengeance, yes, but she also wanted a challenge.
Swords clashed yet again Andrew had to be on guard Beatrice was a fierce opponent. Andrew avoided each swing, left, right, right, left. It almost felt like a dance. It reminded him of the summer solstice ball back in Uzgob. But he was just distracting himself he had to focus if he was going to have a chance at beating Beatrice. Swords locked once again. “You have to listen to me.” Shouted Andrew. “This is exactly what the DeReimer family want. They want us to wipe each other out. To save them the trouble of dealing with any opposition they'll have in the future. You're being tricked!”
“Fight or die!” Cried Beatrice as she used all her strength to deliver a powerful swing, aimed at bludgeoning her foes weapons. She sought to jar his wrists to the point that he could no longer hold his weapons - leveraging her greater stature, strength and the power behind her two handed blade.
This proved to be too much for Andrew as both his swords flew out of his hands. As he stood in pure shock, Beatrice delivered a swift pommel strike to the point of his jaw. Andrew fell to the ground stunned. Was this it? Was his death close at hand? Beatrice swung her blunt blade up into the air - it would be a messy, crude end if it came down.
Fortunately for Andrew - it did not. At the peak of the upswing, Beatrice hesitated. This was a kill her father desired greatly. She had earned it - it was her right to claim vengeance for the Blackwells now - yet her father's wroth was legendary. The pause, however slight, was too long simply by existence. It gave time for Dearon to charge in and tackle her. Unprepared as she was, she nearly thought it was her father striking her aside… It was not, yet she fell all the same. The breath was knocked out of her as she hit the ground, and she lost vital seconds as she recovered.
Dearon took the chance to help Andrew up. “How many times do I have to save you in these battles?” He asked with a smile on his face. Andrew jokingly replied “As many times as you want.” The two of them laughed for a bit.
When Beatrice scrambled to her feet and saw she now had two foes against her, she just laughed and mockingly bellowed “Send me more!” before settling back into a ready position. Inside her simple mind, she had regained her conviction, and purged the thought that lead to hesitation. Now, if she had an opening, she would take it. Andrew would die this day. “I will have vengeance.”
“Come and take it then - if you can.” Said Andrew challenging Beatrice to this claim.
“We shall fight her together. Said Dearon “We don't want you falling on your ass again do we?”
“Side by side once again” said Andrew with a smile on his face. The two of them charged towards Beatrice. Together they stood a chance against her. The two of them had each other's back.
Beatrice parried and blocked, her great blade moving with remarkable dexterity as she adopted a defensive posture. She was looking for an opportunity, but with Andrew's twin blades and Dearon’s shield and sword, she had to rely on her armor to even attack at all. Several times she did just that - feeling the blades of her foes slide off her nigh impenetrable armor, yet Dearon’s shield was a solid bulwark and Andrew always seemed to be able to dodge at the last moment.
Beatrice was no lightweight, she did not tire easily, but every blow that struck her armor pushed her back, and every shield bash Dearon landed staggered her just a little more. Two to one odds were not good for a battle of attrition, even for the mighty War Maiden. By this time, a wide circle had formed around them - troops from both sides moving back from their Lords and Champions for fear that they may be slain in the exchange, or for respect for the honor of the duel.
And yet - despite this separation, as Beatrice was forced back, one Blackwell Dragonguard chose to step forward and join his leader in battle. He carried a gleaming silvered blade as yet unmarred by the blood and dirt of battle. The cloth elements of his garb were deep crimson, and flowing from underneath his full faced helm - long grey hair.
He stepped forward, and with unerring precision stabbed at the gap in Dearons’ armor beneath his shield arm. A swift, shallow attack… but a crippling one. Beatrice knew this even as the soldier stepped back.
Andrew was optimistic - he could see that Beatrice was tiring, slowing, and becoming more vulnerable. Then, without warning, Dearon shrieked in pain and surprise and dropped his shield.
Beatrice seized the opportunity immediately. She swung her sword - really more of a jagged wooden club with a metal core now - first at Dearon’s knee to knock him to the ground. Then, with all the might she could muster, she delivered a crushing blow to his chest. The plate - clearly not of the quality Beatrice expected - buckled and crumpled and the sound of snapping ribs could just barely be heard over the sound of the battle nearby.
Andrew couldn't believe what was happening. He spied the Blackwell soldier that had made the opening for Beatrice to exploit and without thinking threw one of his blades at him before turning to Beatrice. Just in time to miss the Dragonguard’s blade coming up and slapping the sword out of the air in a near superhuman feat of speed. Yet, with the sanctity of the duel broken, a pair of Manshrew soldiers had rushed forth to engage the Dragonguard as well, and they arrived just in time to tackle him to the ground while he was occupied deflecting the blade.
In a fit of rage, Andrew rushed Beatrice and before she could recover, slammed his armored fist into the side of her helmet. She staggered back, but Andrew was not done. His swords pommel came next, bashing the other side of the woman's helm, leaving her dazed. Taking the opportunity, Andrew gripped her helm and tilted her head back - revealing one of the few weaknesses in the mighty armor of the War Maiden, running his blade quickly across the exposed flesh, then let her fall.
He quickly dropped his sword and went to Dearon’s side. His chest plate was crushed and he was clearly having trouble breathing. “No, no, no Dearon hold on. Someone get a mage!” Shouted Andrew in desperation.
“It’s too late for that Andrew. I fear that this is the end... Promise me... that you'll look after Helmara, and help her find Aulus. Promise me!” Said Dearon coughing blood and laboring for breath. He took a hold of Andrew’s hand with firm grip and blood started to trail out of his mouth.
Andrew tried to hold back the tears but he couldn't. “I promise.”
“Good, it’s been an honour. My friend... my brother, my king.” As he said this Dearon's grip started to loosen and he let out his last breath.
Andrew let out a yell of anguish. He couldn't believe that one of his closest friends was gone. He looked at Dearon’s body and closed his eyes. “You've earned your rest brother. May the gods protect you in the next life.” Said Andrew with a deep sadness, there was no time for a funeral.
While Andrew tended to Dearon, the Dragonguard soldier with the grey hair removed his helmet, having long since dispatched the Manshrew soldiers that had tried to restrain him.
Beatrice heard a dull sound near her head as the soldier threw his helm near her - to get her attention. She slowly moved her head, still clutching at her neck with her armored fingers, to look at the figure. What could this soldier want in her final moments?
With horror, she realised it was no soldier at all. Though her vision blurred at the edges... she would know that face anywhere. That cold, harsh, disapproving face.
It was her father.
She saw no rage on his features. No despair. Only cruel disappointment. Tears welled in her eyes as her vision continued to darken. All her life, she only wanted to make him proud. Now, at the end, she had failed him. She felt hollow and empty inside.
Then the darkness flooded in.
Giles Blackwell slowly turned his gaze towards Andrew. Only now did his features twist into an ice cold rage. He raised his sword and stepped towards his foe with purpose. He would finish what his daughter could not.
Andrew could see the rage from Giles’ face. Andrew knew that he was in for the fight of his life. If he could call it a fight. All he could possibly do was prolong the fight in hopes of even surviving the fight let alone win. Andrew had heard about the legendary skills of Giles Blackwell. Alun often talked about Giles during training.
As he used to say “If you ever meet him in battle Andrew. Run the other way. If you do have the unfortunate luck of fighting him. Pray that your shield stays true, as it’ll be the one thing that will save you. Also a prayer to Gods always helps.”
Andrew smiled as he remembered this advice. He could see that Giles was preparing himself. Andrew went over to pick up his shield. With both sword and shield in hand he was ready for battle.
However Andrew hoped that Giles (unlike his daughter) would listen to reason. “Lord Blackwell, I implore that you listen to me. The Duncan DeReimer would have you believe that I was responsible for for the assassination attempt on your family. But this is a lie. You know that I would never use such a scheme against your family. The DeReimer family wants us to destroy each other. That way there won't be any family houses that can oppose their rule. If you cannot see this then you are a fool for trusting such a snake.”
“Trust - Ha!” Giles scoffed, his tone making it absolutely clear he considered Andrew a fool for even considering the notion. “He is next. As for you - it doesn’t matter now whether you attacked first or not. You just killed my daughter. Now I will kill you.” He spoke with icy, controlled fury. He was not making threats - he was making a statement.
He stepped forward, his blade flashing before him almost too fast to see. Steel clashed against steel as the two legendary warriors fought - yet it was hardly a fair fight. Giles was a powerful fighter, but also virtually fresh. Andrew had been on the front since the start and had just taken on the War Maiden in a duel of attrition. Even the mightiest men succumbed to weariness eventually.
There could only be one outcome now. It would only be a matter of time. Giles could already taste his victory.
Andrew was being beaten back with every blow - his shield the only thing keeping him alive and on his feet. Unfortunately, while it was clear to Giles that victory was at hand, it was also clear to the nearby soldiers as well. Just as Andrews defence seemed to be faltering his men broke the sanctity of the duel once more. Lannistark troops swarmed in to cover their King. First five, then ten, then even more - all rushing Giles at once. Giles’ first swing slew two of them immediately - but still they rushed on - eager to give their lives for the Manshrew King they fought for. Giles killed left and right, but every swing took time and every second they bought allowed Andrew to retreat behind yet more soldiers, whose only goal was to bury Giles beneath a pile of bodies living and otherwise. When Giles finally withdrew to his own line, fury left unsated, he had no choice but to grudgingly respect the loyalty Andrew seemed to inspire in his men. He may have been thwarted for the moment - but he would have his vengeance eventually.
It was only a matter of time.
Patrick smiled as he watched the sides of the alliance’s battle lines crumble to yet another charge from the Anjervine heavy cavalry. The battle was going exceptionally well. It would take a near miracle for Andrew to pull a victory from this; the concords lines were holding strong, and the constant barrage of arrows and mage spells were proving devastating to the alliance. Furthermore the Blackwell Dragonguard had managed to hold their position despite being vastly outnumbered. However Patrick noted that the Lannistark infantry had managed to fight their way to the front lines. The Lannistark soldier’s were as deadly as they were brutal. If the concord forces continued to engage them they would take heavy casualties.
“Call for our forces to fall back behind lines of the heavy infantry” Patrick said as he signalled one of the flag bearers. “Lets see how these soldiers of Glamrion fares against Cawanor steel”.
Andrew had been narrowly saved by the fanatical loyalty of the Lannistark soldiers. Had it not been for their bravery he would have surely fallen to Giles. Now that they had fought their way to the front line, perhaps his forces could finally push back the Concords battle lines. Over the racket of the battle Andrew could hear a horn sounding in the distance, likely Patrick giving his men new orders. A few moments passed before something very unexpected happened; the Concord infantry started to slowly pull back. Immediately Andrew knew this was a trap. For a start while they were retreating it clearly wasn’t a route. The soldiers remained formation and continued to engage the enemy as they broke away from the battle. Secondly there was absolutely no reason for the concord to retreat now. They were winning which meant Patrick had something planned. “Hold position” Andrew cried but his commands fell on deaf ears. From all around him the Lannistark soldiers fell for the concord’s ploy. “They’re retreating, press the attack” One man cried as he and the rest of the Lannistark army pursued the concord infantry. “What the hell are they doing” Andrew growled to himself. The Lannistark’s were always known for being impulsive and headstrong, normally this worked to their advantage when in battle. However this was not one of those times. Soon Patrick’s plan became clear; the Concord soldiers pulled back behind thick lines of Cawanor heavy infantry. They stood shoulder to shoulder, armed with tall tower shields and a range of deadly one handed weapons. They were wearing full plate armour, all of the highest quality. Behind the soldiers stood lines of the Cawanor militia who, unlike the militia of other kingdoms, were very well equipped. They held long pikes, meant to kill the alliance soldiers from a distance while the professional soldiers held them at bay. However even after seeing this the Lannistark’s continued to charge hitting the shield wall with everything they had. To little avail. The De Reimer forces barely moved, even with the full force of the Lanistark army pressing down on them, greatswords and warhammer bounced harmlessly off the De Reimer shields. In response the De Reimer soldiers slew any Lannistark soldiers who dared to come close to the front line. Upon realizing they weren’t going to break formation the Lannistark forces tried to back up for another charge, however the Cawanor soldiers weren’t going to give them the opportunity. Almost simultaneously the Cawanor soldiers advanced together, shields and weapons constantly facing the enemy. Andrew saw a Neptuna soldier who had fallen out of line pierced by multiple pikes. He saw a alliance mage using fire in a desperate attempt to break the concord lines. The flames were merely blocked by the soldiers thick armour and shields before he himself was stabbed by a militia spear. Any alliance soldiers who tried to advance were either cut down blades or impaled with pikes. The situation was dire, Andrew knew he had lost this battle. “Retreat!” Andrew shouted “Pull back immediately, everyone full retreat!” His orders were swiftly repeated by the numerous soldiers around him and soon the entire army was in a full route. His men broke line as they desperately tried to escape the slaughter. Andrew was already planning his next move, trying to think of a way to escape the Imperial forces. His attention was immediately called to the sound of a horn in the distance. It wasn’t an alliance horn nor did it sound like any of the Imperial command horns he had heard before. Andrews heart sunk when realized where the origins of the horn had come from. Before him charged the full Blackwell force. During the course of the battle they had somehow flanked behind them. The concord had cut him off, and there was nowhere to escape to. They would have to fight through them, it was the only change they had for survival. “Fight on men!” He commanded and he charged forward “break their lines!”
Drevala swooped above the battlefield, her eagle form providing her with a commanding view of the conflict whenever she was not harassing the foe with beak and claw. She noted the advance of the rest of her family's force behind Manshrew’s army. This element - the majority of the Blackwell force - was primarily militia. Yet to compare it to the militia of the other nations was foolish, for the citizens of Alenius were hardened by dragon attack, honed by effective training and clad in high quality armor.
She could see they were moving not in a straight battle line, but one that seemed hesitant at points and overly bold at others. She was no strategist, but she understood this formation. The weak points were a falsehood, designed to look the way they were to funnel the foes retreat. A broken army was no different to a wounded animal after all. To let it know it had no hope would only inspire it to fight to the last - but to let it believe it could escape… That gave you power.
The line was fluid, moving to cut off and destroy elements of the foe entirely while letting other run. Drevala might’ve remarked on beauty and elegance of the troop movements if not for the bestial ferocity that currently overtook her mind.
Every time she saw a group of Manshrew soldiers surrounded she would swoop down, changing form in mid air and landing amidst the foe as a huge cat, or sometimes an oversized she-wolf, and tearing them to shreds. Sometimes they would land grazing strikes, but the pain just made her fight harder. When such a group had fallen she would shift back to her bird form and take to the sky, healing and injuries she sustained as she did so.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware they were winning the battle, and with it the war, but she didn’t care. To her animal mind, there was only the hunt.
Andrew felt the full force of the charge as his men clashed with the Blackwell forces. Despite the best efforts of the alliance troops the Blackwell forces held strong. From behind Andrew could hear the heavy march of the Cawanor forces advancing forward, they had been completely cut off. From all sides Andrew could hear the screams of men and women as they were cut down by Blackwell and De Reimer forces alike. At the very least the enemy had stopped bombarding the alliance with ranged weaponry. It would appear that even the De Reimer’s had the honor not to fire upon their own men. Even so he had to get his people out of the slaughter zone. “Everyone charge at the center of the blackwell’s force, push through!” Andrew yelled as he pushed his way through his now densely packed forces in an effort to get to the front lines. If his men could focus their force on one place then hopefully they would be able to break through. Andrew finally managed to push himself to the front lines, it was clear his plan was working. The Alliance had started spearhead themselves through the center of the formation forcing the Blackwell forces further back to the sides. Finally the alliance broke through Blackwell lines, allowing the Alliance to retreat from the slaughter behind, many of the soldiers threw down their primary weapons and shields so they could run faster. Andrew himself was one of the first to escape, as he looked back he saw the gap widen allowing thousands of alliance soldiers to escape. As Andrew continued to run he knew the casualties of this battle had been severe, chances of him winning this war were now nearly non-existent. Once he reached a safe distance from the battlefield he looked back over to his men. His heart sank at what he saw. The Blackwells had manage to cut off the escape route and his soldiers were once again trapped between the Blackwell’s and the De Reimer forces. It look like nearly half his force was still trapped, and without help they would be massacred. However there was nothing he could do; his surviving army was in a full route making it impossible to coordinate an attack. Even if he could help it would only result in him losing his entire army. All Andrew could do now was retreat, at the very least the concord would be too focused on the men left behind to chase after the routing soldiers. Andrew took one last look at the battlefield that was now nothing more than a slaughter, before turning round and retreating alongside the rest of his men.
