The Tale being told is what you would expect. A Great Evil destined to be destroyed by a Chosen One. That Evil is doing all it can to thwart the rise of this Chosen so they may bask the World in Dark and Shadows of Despair and Death. Of the Great Sacrifices made by the Chosen's Companions who spend themselves against impossible odds and Monstrous Opponents in order to Fulfill a Prophecy handed down by the Gods of Light and Goodness.
The World is as any other across the Great Expanse of Reality, filled with Magic and Mayhem, with Legends Written in Tomes and Gods Worshipped in Houses of Stone.
As for the details of this Story? An Undead King most Malicious and Foul Plagues its World and Marches their Armies, both Living and Damned across the landscape. This Evil Army sets to Ruin Kingdoms and Empires in search of this Chosen who threatens their Sovereign's Reign. The Chosen One and their Guardian are on the run from the Army of Evil, heading further and further towards the Gray Seas.
They are forced to take shelter at a Temple in a Ramshackle Town in the Middle of Nowhere, ruled by an Empire that Bravely Stands against the Tide. They hid from a Mist, out of season, and thick, that crawled after them then over the Walls. Though it did not last until the morn, the darkness before the dawn lingered.
On the horizon, marching through field and forest had been the Army of the Undead King, Hardran
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Gerik awoke to the alarms. It was still early and the Old Cleric could clearly see out of the glass panes the dawn had just crept over the stone walls. Even before opening, they could make out men in armor rushing one way as people scrambled the other.
The Great Enemy was here.
A stiff yawn from a young girl, seven in age, blonde of hair and sparkling little sapphires for eyes, woke to the noise and Gerik closed the window.
"Are the Paladins sparring again, Uncle Rik?" the young girl asked sleepily.
Gerik returned to the swath of carpet he had been sleeping on and fetched his mace, a morning star with an odd billhook jutting from the ball. Despite the respite, the old campaigner had not removed the armor beneath his robes. Gathering his pack and shield, he kicked away the chair he had propped the door closed and unbolted the lock to crack open the door.
What Paladins who were on guard, a whole five in the entire Temple, were having a heated argument down the hall.
"Time to get dressed Yule, we have to go."
"But the Friends I had been promised-"
Gerik sighed, more so in exasperation than anything else. However he forced a friendly smile on his face, before turning slowly, "-we'll find your promised friends child."
With their own exasperated sigh, Yule rolled from their bed, revealing they too wore their traveling clothes, and simply pulled on their tiny little boots. Gerik slipped out of the door and closed it behind him.
"Gerik Eeg." a Senior Paladin observed the Cleric and stepped around their comrades, who immediately flanked their superior. "I've received troubling news from Instaria."
"The town is under attack," Gerik grunted dismissively, looking from one Paladin to another. They had addressed him as his common name and not his title, that had not been a good sign, nor did he attempt to correct them. "The news can wait."
"Can it?" The Paladin demanded, holding up the parchment. "It says the Companions to Escort the Lady Yule to Lashfield had been slain. And last time I checked my map Lashfield is in the opposite direction."
"Yes, Enemy Territory. There is an Army in that direction." Gerik replied coolly, not pleased with the Paladin pointing out the obvious, "Perhaps you will be willing to go deal with that while I take my charge from harm's way."
"Did you bring this on us?" asked another Paladin.
Gerik smirked, half turning in that Paladin's direction. "My duty brought this to you. I expect you to do your duty."
"And if that duty is to arrest you." the Senior took a step forward, holding up that letter in hand. "For dereliction of your duty?"
"If I can reach the Gray Seas, I can confiscate, steal or murder my way unto a boat and head to Lashfield the long way round." Gerik replied calmly, logically, "But whatever contents that letter may hold, know that our first responsibility is to Yule."
The Senior Paladin sneered slightly, glancing to the door in which Gerik had exited, and backed away. "My brothers and I will escort you to the Eastern Gates and on towards Myla beyond the Shade Wood."
"That is where I intended to take Yule, to begin with."
"I don't believe you." the Paladin growled jamming a finger into Gerik's graying beard, "But we do not have time for debate and I can't afford to strip you of your weapons. You will wait as we evacuate the Clergy and the Guests."
"Of course. Yule and I will await you in the Grand Hall." the Old Cleric replied, and offered a bow, keeping his temper even. "May we head to the meal hall first and secure provisions?"
The Senior Paladin straightened, eyeing the Gerik suspiciously.
"As you said, I will need a weapon to aid in the defense, here, take this and have one of your brothers hold it for me in the Grand Hall." Gerik passed the morning star heft first up towards the Paladin. "I will most certainly retrieve it in order to aid in any form of martial engagement."
A moment longer, and the Paladin snatched the weapon out of Gerik's hand and stormed off followed by the others. Gerik waited for them to leave before he opened the door to find Yule leaning on the window to stare out across the small town.
"Hey Uncle Rik, those are the same banners from last time."
"Same Enemy, Child." Gerik replied softly, "Come, we must hurry."
"Where are we going this time?" Yule asked, bouncing from the Window to stand before Gerik. "Will we find those people who are meant to be my Friends?"
Gerik gently patted Yule's head, smiling, though the little girl did not process how sad it had been. "Yes child, we find them before we reach the end."
"Will the winged one be my friend?" Yule questioned on as Gerik guided her out of their cramped compartment.
"What?"
Yule turned and pointed towards the Window as Gerik's verbal surprise left his lips. For a brief moment, Gerik thought he saw a, snake? Something with scales dipped away out of sight. Furrowing his brows, Gerik quickly pushed Yule out of the door. "Yes, yes, I suppose, down to the Mess, we need to get us some sweet rolls for the journey."
"Yay sweets!" Yule exclaimed as she snatched hold of Gerik's free, gloved encased hand, and nearly dragged him after. "Come come! I know where they hide them!"
Gerik could not help but smile at the surge of energy Yule showed and found that it had been infectious. He followed her down the hall, a flight of winding stairs and across the Grand Hall in which the robed Clerics and Priests were scrambling to secure priceless artifacts and tomes guarded by the Paladins. The glares the Paladins gave Gerik had instilled the notion that whatever had been sent to them had been damning.
And it should be damning. There had been no hiding what Gerik had done to earn the Ire of Instaria's Priesthood. Yet Gerik could read the Hearts of Men and know of their intent and the Truth in their Words. Those Paladins were hostile, and there had been violence in their Heart. As far as they were concerned, Gerik was guilty without further explanation.
As they entered the Meal Hall, there had been Priests already scrambling to pack food and provisions. Though the Paladins were treating Gerik with caution, the Priests yielded to both these newcomers with respectful bows.
"Most unexpected for the Enemy to be at our doorstep!" one of the Priests stated, an acolyte of the lowest caste who stuffed bread into a bag.
Another agreed, and as they did, they turned towards Gerik, offering them a respectful nod of the head. "It had to be the Mists, it was most unnatural, what are your thoughts, Inquisitor?"
Gerik did not have time to share his thoughts nor to have a long-winded discussion. Even more, if he dismissed them, Gerik would place undue suspicion on himself too soon. The Priests did not know of Gerik's urgency.
"Traditionally, Heroes emerge from the Mists to rally against the Evil Lords of Legend," Gerik stated, having stopped in his stride to address them. "However you should be concentrating on evacuating."
"It cannot be a large force, we are hundreds of leagues in Instarian Territory." the First Priest said dismissively. "They are only having us move to the keep, we are to bring what food we can carry."
"By whose order?"
"Lord Eddard."
Gerik knew the name, and offered a single nod, "As he wishes, I am going to pop in the kitchen for a sweet roll for Yule and we will be right out. Got to keep the girl calm you know."
With that exchange, and following after a bouncing Yule, Gerik quickly entered the Kitchen. Yule, like a little bloodhound, shot straight for the pantry where she knew the sweets had been kept and quickly snatched at a few of them. Gerik had to snatch them out of her hands.
"Check for vermin first little one!" Gerik nearly chastised her verbally, his face scrunching as he did so for her. "Don't want you gagging on a bug or eating a stale roll, can't afford tum-tum aches now can we?"
"No Uncle Rik." Yule said sadly, and as Gerik passed her down one she beamed up at him and took a healthy bite of it. As Yule ate, Gerik wrapped up a few others in a thin cloth and stuffed it into his already filled pack. The Cleric did not need to stop by the Pantry, Gerik had seen to it last night as the others slept.
Yule had finished the roll and had been licking her fingers when Gerik took the hand she held out and brought her to the back door. The door had been heavy oak, thick, and barred with iron, meant mostly to allow deliveries into the Temple more than an escape route of any kind. Unbounding the door, he pulled open to see a swarm of people rushing up the street. Judging by the sun and the shadows on the ground, they were heading West, towards the Gate at the ramshackle of Wall. There had not been sounds of fighting yet, but war horns were being blown, and what passed for soldiers were directing people towards the Keep.
"Alright Yule, remember last time right?" Gerik asked, turning slightly to regard the girl clutching at his hand. "Keep a hold, and stay behind me."
"Wait, Uncle Rik, did you forget your bashing stick?" Yule questioned, noting Gerik's lack of their odd weapon.
Gerik grimaced and shrugged. "Old age I guess, could you-?"
As he set to ask Yule for something, the little girl held out her hands. A soft bright flair of light erupted from them, and as soon as it faded, the Morning Star rested within Gerik's outstretched hand as if he had never parted with it.
Smiling at Yule in appreciation, Gerik placed it on a loop that lay on the inside of his shield and then held out his hand to her. "-you are a precious thing, thank you."
Heading out of the Temple, Gerik led Yule in the same direction as the people. Yet after a moment, Gerik brought Yule off the street and through a side alley. Before they could reach the end, Gerik spotted a man in chain mail following after them.
No. That was not chain mail. It was an odd suit of armor, out of place in more ways than one, brightly colored blue and the man himself had silver eyes and black hair. The man gave them an appraising inspection as they followed. Gerik knew instantly that the silver-eyed man was looking for him and the girl.
Not stopping to confront the man, Gerik continued to guide Yule until they reached a square that had a well in the center. The place was empty save a few peasants scrambling towards the Keep. There were virtually no warriors or soldiers with steel in sight, not when the Enemy had been marching on them.
And then someone ahead of him called Gerik by title, and name, "Inquisitor Gerik of Meldon?"
Coming to a halt, Gerik quickly sought out the source, the voice had a weird accent, almost musical in nature. A hooded man in dark leathers seemed to emerge from the shadow before him, yet there had been none there to emerge from. They had a quiver on their back, though their bow had been slung and the hilts of blades were visible, neither touched or toyed with. The man had their hands up, elbows at the waist, trying to indicate that they were friendly.
"Who are you?" Gerik demanded, hand on his mace, and they immediately put themselves squarely in front of Yule. "If you know who I am-"
A winged serpent with a barbed tail, almost as long and as tall as a large dog landed behind the hooded stranger, and Yule immediately perked and declared it "-friend!" even as Gerik backed a step away.
"With the way you vacated the Church, and how the Paladins are calling you a Traitor, you have two options. You can go back to them, or come with us, we've secured the Eastern Gate and the Wood."
"What?"
The oddly armored man had marched up, and Gerik turned to confront them as well. Yet they moved by, reporting to the Hooded man. "Those Paladins are not far behind. Do we fight or do we run?"
"Why do you think I left Jeri to secure the Wood?" the other replied. That question seemed to answer the other, and the blue armored man fell in line with their apparent superior. Then the hooded one pulled that hood back to reveal themselves but kept their hands in view.
Gerik had seen Elves before. This one had the appearance. The sharpened ears, almond eyes, angled feature and wispy hair. The armor they wore was of those sort of Elves who patrolled the forest, a ranger, the armor was not black, but a dark earthy brown, worn at the edges. The hood was attached to a deep blue cloak, old with few tatters at the edge, and just beneath, just barely visible, some sort of brooch over the heart, elaborate and beyond the craft of mere humans.
The skin, however, the skin had been a shade of pure obsidian, their hair white and silky in nature. The whites of their teeth seemed to glow as their lips parted as they spoke. "My name is Rial, this is Mathias, we are here to render your cause assistance, Inquisitor Gerik."
"Who sent you?" Gerik demanded, again keeping himself between Yule, the two strangers and their odd pet.
The Elf, Rial, remained calm, smiling, friendly and warm. Gerik immediately distrusted this Elf and did not know why. "That gets a bit murky, but let us say our goal in keeping that child out of reach of those things beyond the Western Wall are shared. If you will follow me."
"I do not trust you."
"Nor should you," Rial replied, offering a shrug. "But my instructions were to keep the Girl Safe at all Costs, not you."
"Not me?" Gerik questioned hesitantly.
"If you don't trust him, trust me." spoke the one called Mathias. They had a long, curved blade almost the length of their six-foot frame in hand at the scabbard, with their hip decorated with shorter versions. Getting a better study of the armor they wore, it was plate armor so alien in design and ornate in appearance that it appeared more like layered clothing than metal overlapping metal. Of course, this Mathias took no note of Gerik's open study of their armor. Their strange silver eyes were darting about for threats, their face, cleanly shaven of facial hair, had a grim expression. "When it comes to that Child, the lot of us are expendable."
Truth in the words. They were both speaking it, yet there had been something about the Dark Skinned one that pricked at the back of Gerik's neck.
Mathias could be trusted.
Rial could not.
"Gerik!" someone else shouted. It had been the Paladins. They had donned their armored robes and bore hammer and mace with a shield. "Gerik you bastard, surrender the Girl!"
"Friends of yours?" Rial asked, though noted that Gerik had a look of panic on his face before he mustered a response.
Yule, however, offered a disgruntled "No." Just as Gerik chimed his own.
Rial frowned, now they took a step around Gerik and Yule, with Mathias at their shoulder.
"Should I just defeat them?" Mathias asked boldly of Rial. "It's only four of them."
That very question had Gerik glance between the two once more. Though the question held a twinge of blood lust in Mathias' voice, neither Rial nor his comrade had evil intent in their heart, which again, confused Gerik. They were genuine in their attempts at diplomacy. They both looked to be very experienced and well-equipped adventurers. Yet the Inquisitor, who had spent a great deal of his life traveling, to begin with, had never seen the likes of Mathias equipment, or whatever Rial was supposed to be.
Yet for the moment, Gerik felt safe. Again, the Inquisitor did not know why.
"Stand aside!" the Elder Paladin demanded, "Gerik will answer for his treachery!"
"No," Mathias said bluntly, and they even took a step forward at the Paladins themselves. Rial reached out and took Mathias's shoulder and held him back.
"None of that yet, remember what Kor said." the Elf said, again smiling and attempting to be disarming as possible. "Inquisitor Gerik-"
"-he no longer bears that title!" the Elder Paladin corrected fiercely, "And holds no Authority."
"I'm not here for titles." Rial's smile faded quickly. "But we can't stand aside."
"He murdered the Companions." came the accusation from Elder, who seemed to be the only Paladin willing to say anything. They followed the statement by pointing with their Hammer at Gerik. They were trying to be intimidating. "He is to surrender the Girl-"
"-who has a name." Rial finished for them, not overly impressed, in fact, Rial was visibly becoming annoyed. They turned to smile down at the young girl. Their Elven voice peeking a moment as they addressed the little one behind Gerik. "Yule, yes?"
"Yes, sir!" Yule replied respectfully, undaunted by events. "I am Yule Dewstar!"
"And you are precious!" Rial beamed to the young one with a genuine smile of adoration, then regarded the Paladin again, that friendly smile once more melting. "Yule, do you want to stay with your Uncle Gerik or these fine gentlemen here?"
"She doesn't have a choice."
"This is where Jeri would have killed them," Mathias said, obviously disgruntled. "I mean, we are wasting time talking to them."
"And that is why Jeri isn't here." Rial reminded Mathias. "Remember, Kor said-"
"-Kor is a pussy."
"Language around the child, please?" Rial asked Mathias, and the silver-eyed man rolled their eyes, offering up their hands in a mild surrender as they scoffed.
"Anyway," Rial grunted, now forcing that smile back on their face. "Yule?"
"I want to stay with Uncle Rik!" Yule said firmly, even going as far as slipping from Gerik's grip to stick her tongue out at the Paladins. "Not the meanies!"
"I like her," Mathias observed with a nod. "Spunky."
Rial nodded once in agreement but continued to address the Paladins. "So, there you have it, she stays with Gerik."
Then the Elder stated what Rial immediately noted had been a grave mistake. "We will take her by force."
Rial clapped their hands once, as if they were expecting exactly that, and took a step back and out of the large, blue armored man's way. "And we are done talking, Mathias?"
The silver-eyed man did not wait for any further prompting. They marched forward as the Paladins raised their shields and weapons. Gerik quickly placed his shield right in front of Yule to obscure her sight and to guard her as he held up his Morning Star in the other. Rial, however, did not reach for any visible weapons, instead, they folded their arms. That winged snake curled at the strange black-skinned Elf's feet as if both were just going to watch.
At first, Mathias slammed his weapon, scabbard and all, into the Elder Paladin's shield, knocking them flat over with a crash of rattling metal. Then, Mathias pulled that large weapon free and turned on his hip, sinking a single-edged sword of near alien design into the head of one of their foes, carving through steel, flesh, and bone with shocking ease.
The Paladins still standing tried to strike home blows as their Comrade died, both leaping at Mathias with their weapons high.
Mathias freed the sword and sliced down into one of their shins, sending the Paladin face-first into the ground. That same stroke, calculated and executed by a man who had been a master of its use, ended by deflecting the other incoming blow meant to crush his head.
The follow up had just been as economic, with no wasted or exaggerated movement that left Gerik outright stunned at the efficiency of the man's killing art. As Mathias brought a heavy boot down on the back of the head of the Paladin he tripped, the course of his blade reversed, slicing in between the hammer and shield of the other, snapping the neck of one, and biting through the heavy armor of the second, killing both in what appeared to be the same, simultaneous move.
It had been enough that even Gerik shook a moment, trying to wrap their wits around what they had just witnessed.
"Monster!" the Elder of the Paladins managed to say as they came to their feet the moment the last of their comrades fell.
Mathias turned on the Elder, flicking their strange weapon clean of blood before parting their feet, and leveling that long weapon even with the other Paladin's face. They replied with a straight face, those silvers oculars staring straight through the helmet of their foe with a deadpan tone.
"No, we left that one in the wood."
Looking down at their dead comrades, it did not take long for the last Paladin to flat outrun. Mathias snorted in disgust and contempt before kicking up their discarded scabbard and slid home that weapon without flourish or style.
The Elf, having not moved the entire time, offered a soft chuckle. "Leaving him alive is going to be a problem later."
"I'm not Jeri," Mathias replied bluntly, still disgusted by the Paladin's cowardice. "And Kor is right, we kill way too many people."
"I'll let him know you agree."
Mathias offered another disgusted sound. "Kor is still a p-"
Rial slapped Mathias before they could finish, and the blue armored man barked, "-Drow I will end you!"
But Rial gave them a silent warning with their finger, and Mathias clamped their mouth shut, now remembering their 'language'. With that settled, Rial once more regarded Gerik and Yule. Gerik had been mortified at the display of Mathias' raw skill with their weapon and obvious strength, and Yule had pressed her face against the shield and covered their ears.
"Will she be alright?" Rial question, squatting to inspect Yule.
Gerik shifted slightly, moving the shield back, and Yule followed as if guided by the movement without a word. "It is not the first time she has faced death."
Rial nodded grimly. "And I am sorry for it. Let us go before that fellow calls the guard." then the dark-skinned Elf gestured to their lizard-like pet, "Avina, watch the Girl."
Like some sort of Dog, the thing called Avina quickly nuzzled up to Yule even before Gerik could react, causing the Girl to giggle and cling to it. "Friend!"
"Yule-" Gerik started to protest, but Avina danced away, Yule followed after with a bright smile, having been turned away from the dead left by Mathias' gruesome display. Gerik's face pinched in thought. They were obviously here to help, but the mention of who sent them being 'murky' did not sit right in Gerik's already suspicious and paranoid mind.
Who were they?
What were they?!
The streets were empty even as they approached the Gate. There were no guards, but the Gate was closed. Near the stairs to the upper floors of the East Gate House itself stood a man in a recognizable suit of armor, with a worn shield and sword at their hip. It was a sleeveless brigadineSeeing the group, the man waved them over and opened the door.
"See! I told you we could get this done without killing anyone!" the man said with a warm, friendly smile.
Rial laughed, and Mathias smiled a coy, knowing smile.
The man's immediate joy evaporated, and they placed a hand over their face to sigh their disappointment.
Rial stopped near the man long enough to place a hand on their shoulder, turning them to face Gerik and Yule. "This is Kor."
"Ah," Gerik inspected the man named, Kor. They were of average height and build, their face was grizzled, their eyes brown as were their hair. The tattoos, however, crisscrossing across Kor's bare arms, depicted the head of a bull, fairies, and the vines of roses with thorns. The shield also had the same bullhead with more detail painted on its round surface. This Kor looked like any other standard, run of the mill adventurer, complete with a pouch laden belt, more so than their two compatriots.
And more, there had been no malice or evil intent in Kor's heart, virtually none, which surprised Gerik. This man had the look of a hardened warrior, but the heart of a priest.
"Look, I'm sorry for the violence they may have caused." Kor offered as an apology.
Mathias scoffed, "Their friends started it, and I let one live, I mean come on!"
"We're always killing people who threaten us!" Kor protested sharply
"We did not!" Rial observed, gesturing for Gerik and Yule to go up first. "We were polite, tactful and gave them every chance in the realms to back off."
"And they disrespected the child." Mathias pointed out, smacking Kor on the back, "I mean be fucking serious here, we tried!"
"Language," Rial shouted down at Mathias. "Or you get the hand again."
"You come down here and smack me again, Drow," Mathias shouted back, baring their teeth as they followed suit. "I swear to every God in every Pantheon Hall across Existence I'll show you how much like that red-furry little bastard I can be."
"Excuse you?" Rial questioned back, even stopping to lean over the rail of the stairs to offer Mathias a curious look as if they did not hear all of their threat.
"Nothing." Mathias snorted, their expression immediately becoming neutral. "I'm behaving. See? I'm being nice. No foul language from me. Nope."
Kor, being the last through the door and up the stairs, again placed their hand on their face. as they grumbled loudly "Why am I always placed with these people? Why?!"
Gerik listened, hearing the familiarity in their voices, and the barbs one would lash at others in jest or genuine irritability. They reminded the Inquisitor of another group of veterans. Yet how would this play out? What would these people do if they knew the truth of his Task?
Would this be a repeat of history?
The thing named Avina kept turning back to look at Yule every few steps as if to ensure the child was chasing her.
"Be careful of the tail Yule!" Rial called up, despite Avina already keeping the tail away.
Yule offered a bubbly "Okay!" yet continued to chase after her new little Friend, every so often stroking the back of Avina's neck before it would scramble up the stairs again.
"What is that thing?" Gerik asked Rial. "And what are you?"
"Avina is a Pseudo-Dragon, a very small Dragonkin, raised her myself." Rial said proudly, "And it would be simpler to just call me a Dark Elf."
"A Dragon?" Gerik questioned, furrowing their brows. "And a Dark Elf? I've heard of no such creatures."
"You've no Dragons or Dark Elves on your World?" Rial blurted, stopping in mid-step to give Gerik a very genuine look of surprise.
"No, and what do you mean 'your' World?" Gerik responded, pointedly stressing the word World as they too, stop in mid-step to offer a studying glare.
Mathias, having heard some of the questions, put a hand on both their shoulders, "We need to keep walking if we are talking. That Army will surround the walls and you've only Kor and me to deal with them. Well," Mathias turned slightly and called behind them. "Kor, can you take on an Army?"
"I don't want to take on an army!" Kor shouted back in an almost dejected manner.
"Eh." Mathias shrugged indifferently and pushed the two along.
Rial gestured towards Gerik as they directed their statement towards Mathias. "They have no Dragons or Dark Elves here."
Mathias offered a sharp bark of laughter at that, "Well, Inra is going to blow his mind."
"Is Inra a friend?" Yule asked, turning sharply to them.
"Of course! Everyone loves Inra!" Mathias laughed with a hint of mild sarcasm, and Rial could not help but roll his eyes at that.
Though Yule did not catch it, Gerik did and frowned, "Is there something I should know?"
"It would be best to see her for yourself, explanations later." Rial informed them, then changed the subject as they reached the landing at the top of the Gate House, "We have a rope for us that will take us over the wall. Do you need help with Yule?"
"No, she is not a burden." Gerik said in a defensive manner, immediately looking for the child, "And I thank you for getting us this far, but we are best on our own."
"No, you are not." Rial informed him bluntly, "We will not impede you, and you've seen what we will do to anyone who tries to take Yule from you. Resisting that is your issue, not ours. This discussion is over until of course, we get to camp."
"I still do not trust you," Gerik stated, pointing at Rial. "The other two sure, in other circumstances, but you, Dark Elf as you say, I don't trust you."
"And you shouldn't." Rial repeated from before, and extended a hand out towards the door leading to the Wall Walk, "We're here for Yule's safety, not yours."
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The Baron von Stev, astride his warhorse, inspected the thin walls of this nameless Hovel he had been dispatched to. Five thousand wretches and ten times as many of the rotting flesh clumps that sauntered aimlessly in their masses had already started their assault. It was not a question of if they could breach the walls, it had been when. Yet the Baron would not see any sort of meaningful battle this day. Nor would his prized Calvary.
At least, not all of his Calvary.
Grinning at his own inward jest, the blond man turn his steed away from the growing sounds of violence, and headed deeper into the camp that had been laid out overnight.
The smell had always been putrid, but one got used to such harshness in King Hardran's Services. There had been solace with perfumes to mask the undeath that hung around, but it would not last long, this supposed siege would not linger.
The tents themselves were simple canvas affairs, and what human fodder that had been a step up above the rest of the dregs served as security. They all wore heavy plate, bore heavy shields and carried a curved sword or pointed mace. They were trained to a point where the common rabble would be hard-pressed to defeat one of them in a fair fight. Otherwise, they were as expendable as the rest of them.
Of course, none here were anything compared to Stev's own Knights. Half of them were here, and Stev knew they could lay waste to everything in the camp and outside of it with ease. Those Knights escorted their Liege Lord, sitting casually in their saddles, with relaxed grips on swords, as indifferent and uncaring as Stev had been of their surroundings.
The Baron slipped from the armored war beast and thrust the reins into the hands of his personal escort. He had approached a tent where the supposed Lord Commander had stationed themselves. There had been no messengers for reports as of yet, the Lord Commander was as indifferent to the happenings of the whelps who fought against each other as Stev and those Knights All the Lord Commander had been concerned with was results.
In the sparse tent, there had been no bed or table for food, just a place to rest a large parchment map and pieces to indicate what intelligence provided by the Huntress and her Crones. Said Huntress, a woman dressed in a regalia best fit for a woman of the night, had stood near the Lord Commander with a knowing smile on her face.
The Huntress had a bow in hand, a quiver somehow jaunting over a shoulder, and a sword on a slender hip that she ensured had been angled, trying to lure the eye to it and the flesh that was barely hidden by the fabric. Stev found her disgusting and knew the venom in her green eyes even as she smiled, showing perfect white, and fanged teeth.
"Ameri tells me that you dispatched half your Knights before we set camp." the Commander stated more than questioned. The Lord Commander himself was in armor similar to Stev's. Dark, etched with gold imagery of a Valkyrie of Death, with spear and shield. Yet Stev had a sword at his hip, a sizable two-handed weapon that he could easily keep off the ground with a single hand resting against the hilt. The Lord Commander, a brutish man who dwarfed Stev by a full foot, had an axe that had an elongated beard for a blade, and a carved skull as its hammer face all on one end of a shaft half as long as they were tall. There had been no speck of hair on the Lord Commander's face, no eyebrows, not even a mustache, and they had a look of someone who remained permanently annoyed.
Stev bowed to show his respect, though the Lord Commander enjoyed the Huntress Ameri's presence as much as they did the Death Knight Stev's.
"I did, Lord Ivyn, did she tell you why?"
Lord Commander Ivyn turned slightly to regard Ameri, as if waiting for her to elaborate.
Ameri shrugged indifferently, and Ivyn offered a sigh of disgust, nearly throwing up his hands. "Childish." Ivyn stood to his full height and folded his arms over his chest, staring down at the map. "Fine, Stev, come here and tell me what you did so I can make my plans in case we do not secure the girl."
Stev approached, leaned over the map, and quietly found the piece that represented their Army. They were well beyond the Front Lines, and it did take a moment of effort for Stev to find the piece in question. Placing their Finger on the map at the town, they shifted it towards the East to an area shaded green for dense woodlands.
"I dispatched half my Calvary to the wood during the Night, orders to slaughter all witnesses as they went. A Hundred Knights in Heavy Armor on horseback may sound like a strategic oversight, they would not be able to maneuver in a Battle Situation in the trees. But from what our spies say, the supposed Chosen One is guarded by that Old Fool, Gerik." Stev explained, leaning back from the map. "This is not a Battle, this is a net. He will try to run before we assail the walls, and he will run right into my men."
"Our spies?" Ivyn questioned pointedly, then made a dismissive motion once Stev offered their own sly smile. "So I'll kill the messengers then. I can't trust anyone in this wretched Force."
"Fine, yes. That old bastard Gerik is running with the Girl, probably to the Port of Myla to reach Lashfield by skirting the Strait of Silence." the Commander explained, dragging their own finger across the map. "Which would be foolish and suicidal in most parts, considering it is far more heavily defended and warded since the last time. King Hardran will not suffer the same ill fate as their predecessor."
"I still do not understand why our Sire will simply not move the body." Ameri voiced as if the solution offered was the obvious choice.
Iyvn slowly regarded Ameri, offering an exasperated sigh. "Why not ask him yourself, I understand he is thrilled to explain his reasons to the undisciplined. We never hear from the souls again, well, outside of the groans from their puss-filled skulls."
"Well, we know where they are going." The Baron Stev observed, exploring the map for the Port of Myla. "Why are we pressing them?"
"Our Master does not think Lashfield is the Course," Iyvn stated and did not have to look to see the surprise on either of their faces, instead Iyvn leaned over the map once more. "So I might not need to kill all of the messengers then. Still, Gerik is wanted in the Capital for High Treason, Heresy, and Murder."
"Did he suddenly switch sides?" Ameri asked more out of reflex than thought.
Again, Ivyn offered another long sigh, going as far as closing his eyes. "No. King Hardran thinks Gerik means to cross the Gray Seas to the City-States, where we cannot immediately follow."
"And before you ask for what purpose because you two are as thick as a lake of oxen shite." Ivyn once more leaned up, glaring between the two, his tone more than indicating that he was done having questions asked. "Our Sire thinks Gerik means to allow the Child to have a long, healthy life, with Children of their own."
"If that thing spawns, it will spread her blood. We cannot risk her spreading her filth to challenge our Growing Power. Do you two understand?" Iyvn questioned back, then made a cutting motion at them both as they were in mid-sentence. "Be silent. I've work for you both."
"Huntress Ameri, you are to take your filthy little harem to the south to the Strait of Silence. If the off chance they are heading to Lashfield to repeat History, they will need to stop at this Port, some Nameless little crop of Docks that is literally a dot on the map. Do some quiet murders. Do some loud murders. I don't care. Make that port yours before they land."
"That is a two-week walk through enemy lands," Ameri complained with no real emotion.
Ivyn's face twitched, and he loomed over towards the Huntress, who nearly took a step back. His voice had been even, never once hinting to the boiling rage in Ivyn's veins, but there had been a sinister edge to it that made even the Baron Stev uneasy. "Then fly. You can do that can't you?"
There had been a moment of hesitation before Ivyn stretched his arm and hand towards the tent flap as he still addressed her. "Why are you still here?"
Ameri gathered herself, bowed low towards the Commander before sauntering her way out, passing Stev to casually call him a "Bastard."
"Whore." Stev retorted with the same effort, though did not look her way, instead, the Baron kept his focus on the Commander, who now turned on him.
"You, you horse's arse, should have kept your Calvary in the reserve where I instructed you to be. The Huntress' insufferable cadre of hedonistic sadists are our main ambushing and scouting force I had, and now I have to deploy them to counter a move I don't even know is coming. Now I'm blind. I also have a severely depleted Calvary that I could have used to harry Imperial Forces that may, and soon I might add, discover us so far in lands where I don't even recognize the bleeding trees. So not only am I blind, I'm lacking a shield."
"Thanks for that," Ivyn stated with a chilling sarcasm that had been pointed and obvious. "Thank you a lot."
Stev, obviously offended, tightened the grip on their sword as they scowled back at the Commander. "I did what I thought was best."
"Without clearing it with me?" Iyvn replied, then pointed off in the direction Ameri had departed. "So you and that woman who is as dense as your steel-plated ego can have your tit-for-tat lover's quarrel while the fate of King Hardran's very existence is at stake?"
"Baron, you are the best Knight we have under our banner, good sword and you follow orders when you get them. So heed this one. Don't take the initiative without consulting me. This move is ill-advised and I would not have approved. I would have used Ameri. We don't know what is in those woods. Bandits, monsters, it doesn't matter, those armored shills calling themselves Knights are too valuable for the war effort to be lost to some pitchfork wielding nutter with the ideals of being a hero."
"Ameri and her ilk can be summoned back with some blood and magic, and they will return in all their wicked little ways. You die and King Hardran would have to be the one to spend a considerable amount of time and effort to restore you to some semblance of life that would be a step down from being alive and a step up from being a smear on my boot."
Ivyn then returned to stare down at their map, allowing silence to descend between the two men, with Stev barely containing their indignation. After a solid minute had passed of silence, Ivyn looked up once more. "Lord Eddard is a Lord of Standing within this region. A swordsman of some repute from the Front, I've seen him fight and he will be an issue. Kill him, maim him, I don't care. Take him out of the fight. Then report to your men in the woods. We march on to the Port of Myla once we trap these bastards in the Keep with a ring of fire."
And with that, Ivyn pointed beyond the Baron von Stev towards the Tent's entrance in a similar fashion they had done with Ameri
"Get out."