"Here we go." Newman took a deep breath and walked up to the large border gates of Zaihan, leaving us a hundred feet back to give us a head start to run if things went south. While Newman bargained with the guards, I marveled at the construction of the walls. It was at least fifteen feet high, made out of smoothed stone that was painted white and extremely well made.
"That's the cursed Mur de Larmes." Kat said softly. "It translates to wall of tears in Imperial. Every time I see it, I pray to the gods that I never have to look upon its bleached surface again, yet they keep bringing me back."
"The gods don't care, Kat." Richard was gripping his bow tightly as he strained his eyes to watch Newman. "All the gods care about is getting back to the Eternal Realm and using us as their stepping stones."
I nodded as I remembered the history of the gods taught by Elder Rongrim. The gods had been kicked out of the Eternal Realm by Ymerawdwr, the creator of the gods, due to being too quarrelsome. Ever since being banished, the gods had been trying to prove their worth to Ymerawdwr so that they could get back home.
"Here comes Newman!" Richard said, his voice cracking a bit. "Should we be nervous that he has a knight with him?"
Newman was quickly walking alongside a knight who was riding a majestic charger. The knight was wearing full plate armor and a face covering helmet that looked like it had been plucked from medieval France, on his back was a large triangular shield, a decently made sword hung at his waist, and inserted in a socket on his boot and held in his right hand was an enormous ten foot long lance.
"Everyone, this is Christofle du Chastel." Newman politely bowed to the knight as he said his name. "He has agreed to escort us to the opposite border. I've worked with him before and he is an honorable man who will keep us safe as long as we abide by the laws of Zaihan and do not attempt to interfere with their citizens."
"Indeed." Christofle said haughtily, and with an accent that sounded vaguely French. "So long as you do not attempt to smuggle our people out of the country, then I, Christofle du Chastel, will keep you peasants safe from both man and beast! I swear it on my honor!"
So, with the monolithic figure of Christofle riding in front of the wagons, we made our way through the gates and started down the barely maintained roads. As we passed the gates, I took a quick look at the guards arms and armor. They were wearing polished chainmail, with kettle helmets and steel breastplates and wielding steel swords. But the guards wearing all that looked almost dead inside. Like a salaryman who has worked hard his whole life at a meaningless job but is still buried under mountains of debt, with nothing to look forward to but the release of death.
After a few hours of walking, we happened to pass a party of people who were maintaining the path that could barely be called a road. They were all dressed in rags that hardly hid their emaciated forms and every single one had an iron collar around their neck that denoted their status as slaves. Christofle didn't even appear to notice them as they scrambled to get out of the road, as if they were ants that could be trodden upon with impunity. It made both my dwarven blood and yankee heritage boil in anger that I reluctantly forced down. This was not a fight I could win as a single teenage dwarf. But I added a mental grudge against this country that I'd be back to strike out.
"This is horrible." Bekhi said to me, her voice muffled by the face covering helmet. "Not even the most poverty stricken clan in Vesturhildrun suffers this much. To think that humans can treat each other so terribly."
"This is probably why Einangrad has isolated itself from the outside world. Hopefully Tochka isn't this bad, otherwise this will be a very long trip."
"Don't worry, kids." Richard muttered to us. "Once we get out of here we won't see anything this bad anywhere on the continent." Bekhi and I had been speaking in dwarven to prevent Christofle from taking offense, but my facial expression had probably tipped Richard off on what we were talking about.
"How could things get this bad?" Bekhi asked as we passed a dead eyed slave swinging a hoe in the fields. "Wasn't all this land once part of a great human empire? Wouldn't the other humans rise up to strike out the grudges?" Peter surprisingly was the one who had the answer.
"According to ancient records, this land wasn't always like this. Zaihan used to be a productive farmland province that bordered the Eternal Forest that was fairly peaceful due to the wood elves hunting any dangerous monsters for sport. It wasn't until year 128 of the Imperial Calendar that Emperor Godfrey transformed the province into a semi-independent country that was dedicated to hunting demi-humans trying to escape the slaving policies of the empire at the time. Zaihanians did their job too well though, and their methods so repulsed Emperor Marious a hundred years later that he ended slavery in the Empire."
"So there's no more slavery in the empire?" I asked.
"... No legal slavery." Peter mumbled under his breath. I nodded to myself in understanding. In feudalism there was always a myriad of ways to make someone your slave in fact if not in name. You had to be extremely careful to read any contract you signed back in the olden days just in case it contained very fine print that bound you for life to a noble.
We walked in near silence for the next couple weeks. The somber sights around us didn't prompt any cheerful conversation, and the monsters steered clear of the well polished armor of our guard. However, we did have to deal with another type of nuisance.
Every time there was a small bridge, or the path narrowed, or we passed by a hold or castle, a knight or small town warrior would challenge Christofle to a duel. The terms were always the same. Pay a toll or fight, the winner takes the others weapons. Fortunately for us, Christofle was actually quite a good warrior and beat all the challengers handily. As part of his service fee though, we had to carry all the weapons he won in combat in our wagons.
"This is torture!" Bekhi complained as Christofle beat yet another knight who was 'guarding' a bridge that went over a trickle of water. "Can't I take the next fight!? I'll make it quick and knock the blockhead off his horse before he even knows what hit him and then bash his helmet in with a single blow." Bekhi was getting very annoyed at the elaborate and slow method of dueling that the Zaihanians employed. It was just like a story from King Arthor and his knights.
Anytime Christofle was challenged, the two combatants would rush each other again and again with their lances until one was knocked off their horse. Then, if they wanted to continue the fight, they would start whacking away at each other with their swords until one of them ran out of stamina and yielded. With the extremely heavy armor and only half decently made weapons, it was rare that any of the fights ever ended in a fatality.
When I first saw the grand display of clanking metal and flashing swords, I had been entranced. It was all my fantasy daydreams from my previous life coming to life before my eyes and I silently cheered for Christofle with every blow. Now that it had happened over a dozen times though, I just wanted him to lop off the head of every idiot trying to squeeze money from us.
"Sorry, Bekhi." Newman said in a placating voice. "Zaihanian knights have a very strict code of honor, especially Christofle, and if you tried to take a fight away from him, then he would just take his winnings and leave us to our own devices. Making it nearly impossible for us to get out of here alive."
Bekhi launched into a string of dwarven curses about the constant fights that she couldn't partake in. I added a few myself because I was getting extremely bored, and the constant sight of the depravity of Zaihan left me wanting to blow off some steam. Just the other day, we had seen a dwarf with his beard shaved off being sold in a public auction and it had taken all of our willpower to not draw our weapons and start busting heads to rescue him.
"Just a few more days of travel and we'll be on the other side of the country." Newman said over Bekhi's cursing. "Please stop before we draw any unnecessary attention… Ulrichs undies, not again." The cause of Newman's cursing was yet another armored figure appearing from around a bend in the road.
The armored figure somehow looked more intimidating than any of the other small fry we had encountered thus far. His helmet, a bascinet with a pointed face plate, had a tiny statue of an ogre eating someone attached to the top. His shield also had a painting of an ogre eating a terrified human painted on it in red.
When he spotted Christofle, he started yelling at him in the local Zaihanian dialect that had split so far from Imperial that it was now an entirely different language. We all looked to Kat for her to translate since she was from here.
"He's telling Christofle to yield and to join under his banner as a man at arms for Count Philippot de Neufville." Christofle asked the count a question, and the response did not seem to please him. "Christofle asked what would happen to us, and the asshole said we'd be turned into slaves and our cargo seized for the resistance movement against the new king."
At a shout from Count Philippot, around twenty well armed soldiers emerged from the foliage surrounding the road. Each of them was wearing chainmail and wielding a large halberd.
"Newman!" Christofle called out as he tossed aside his lance and drew his sword. "I leave the peasant soldiers to you. I must deal with this traitor to the king!" He then charged at full tilt, while the count readied his lance. We didn't have time to watch the battle though because the soldiers charged at us with their halberds down. Newman began hastily yelling out orders.
"Richard! Peter! Fire at will! Everyone else, it's kill or end up on the block so give it your all!" Newman drew his sword and started fighting with the first soldier that ran up to him.
Bekhi grinned in joy, and with a sword and a hammer, she charged at the group. I heard the whistling of arrows as Richard fired into the oncoming soldiers. Peter tightly gripped his staff, and after yelling "Fireball!" cast a ball of fire the size of a baseball at a soldier. Kat angrily yelled something in her native language before engaging the soldiers with frenzied fury, knocking aside their halberds and getting in close for the kill.
I threw a hammer with the rune of impact at an oncoming soldier, completely crushing his chest plate and rib cage, before arming myself with my sword and shield. "Feel the fury of a dwarf!" I yelled out as I jumped to reach a soldier's jugular vein with my sword, before moving onto the next target.
"Let your blood strike out a grudge!" Bekhi yelled as she shattered the leg of a soldier with her hammer before cutting off his head with her sword.
It took less than ten minutes before every single Zaihanian soldier was dead on the ground. Bekhi looked like she had a few more grudges to strike out, and I felt exactly the same way for once. We looked over to see how Christofle was doing, and found that both he and the count were fighting on foot. Kat helpfully translated their conversation as they fought.
"You fight well for a second son." The count said as he swung an overhead blow.
"It is my duty to fight traitors to the king!" Christofle blocked the blow with his shield, but uttered a loud grunt as the impact nearly brought him to his knees.
"What king? The insolent young whelp is not deserving of the crown! It should go to his brother instead!"
"He received the majority of the votes from the counts. He is the rightful king of Zaihan!"
This set the count off on a rant that would make even the biggest conspiracy theorist blush in shame. He blamed the dwarves, the elves, and even the halflings, for interfering with the election. It would have been funny to watch, except for the fact that with every false statement he delivered a crushing blow to Christolfle.
"He shall never be king! Not while I live and breathe!" Count Philippot swung his sword like a baseball bat and sent Christofle flying backwards in one direction, and his shield in another.
"Does this mean I get to take over the fight!?" Bekhi asked Newman as she gripped her weapons with a grin.
"No, Christofle has to surrender first, and when the count realizes all his soldiers are dead, he will retreat rather than fight with commoners."
The count held his sword to Christofle's neck. "Do you yield? You can still serve me in the resistance forces." He glanced up to see his soldiers dead and us watching the fight. "You can start by killing the peasants who dared to defy me, and did not submit to the block."
"Never! I may be the second son of the house Chastel, but I gave my word to see them to the border, and I never break my oaths. Not even to commoners. Even if I die, I would rather go to the gods before my time, than as an oathbreaker." Christofle then swung his sword towards the count, before getting up and resuming the match.
"Newman, is it possible to give Christofle a better weapon?" I asked. The weapon he was currently using was only denting the count's armor, and not even coming close to piercing it. Newman thought for a minute or two before replying.
"Possibly? I don't think there are any rules against receiving additional compensation from those under your protection. But are you sure, Kvalinn? Those weapons of yours are one of a kind, and I doubt Christofle will give anything back."
"If Christofle dies, then the other nobles can attack us with impunity, right." Newman indicated that I was correct. "So keeping us off the slave block is worth one weapon!" I walked over to where the count and Christofle were bashing each other with their swords.
"Keep out of this, commoner. This does not concern you!" The count shouted at me with derision.
"Christofle, I have a weapon that can pierce his armor. Consider it advance payment for the next time Newman passes through the country." I held out a sword with the rune of sharpness on it. Christofle only hesitated for a second before dropping his own sword in the mud and grabbing the handle.
"Thank you, young dwarf. This may yet turn the tide of battle."
"Ha! As if a dwarven weapon could defeat me-" The count's laugh of derision was still on his lips as Christofle's sword sliced through his blade and embedded itself in his gut. "W-what? H-how could this happen?" The count never got his answer as his face planted in the mud, and he bled out within minutes.
"By the crown!" Christofle looked at the weapon in wonder. "This blade is the mightiest I've ever beheld! Young dwarf, I am forever in your debt for this miraculous weapon."
"Just don't enslave any dwarves and we'll call it even." I figured that this gesture was probably worthless, but if it saved even a single dwarf, then maybe I'd feel better about giving a magical runed weapon to a cursed Zaihanian.
"Upon my honor, I swear to never hold another of your kind in slavery. Also, if I ever succeed my father's position then I will free any dwarves currently being held in our lands and will send them to your mountain. What name may I give to those who are freed in your honor?"
"Kvalinn, Kvalinn Runecursed."
"An unusual name. But then again, all dwarven names are unusual. But come, let us hurry to the border, Kvalinn Runecursed. The guards must be informed that Count Philippot de Neufville has turned traitor to the king and that I have slain him in combat. If this information reaches the king quickly then I may be rewarded with a portion of his lands!" Christofle picked up his previous sword from the mud, and handed it to me to put with his other winnings.
After we helped Christofle back on his horse, since those in knights' armor couldn't mount their own horses, we began moving towards the northern border again. Leaving the bodies of the dead where they lay. The local peasants would bury them eventually if the wolves didn't devour them first.
"Are you sure it was a good idea to give him a magical runed weapon, Kvalinn?" Bekhi asked in concern. "It might get taken from him and used against our home."
"Don't worry about it." I said in quiet dwarven. "The one I gave him was high power and low usage. It should run out of magic in less than a year. Faster than that if he uses it often."
"Do you think he'll keep his word?" We both looked at Christofle, who was happily humming at the thought of becoming a landed knight.
"I think he will for as long as the sword works. After that…" I made a waggling gesture with my hand to indicate that there was about a fifty percent chance.
Along the road, we passed the largest town in the country, Gatharb. It looked like a truly miserable place to live. The houses and businesses of the commoner class were haphazardly constructed, and were made of plaster and thatch. There was only one noble house, but the only way you could tell that a noble lived there was because the walls were straight, and the windows had tiny panes of glass. As for the people, they trudged along without a single spark of joy, and there was even a man pushing along a cart and ringing a bell as he called out "Bring out yer dead." This place definitely needed an industrial revolution, maybe even a French revolution while we were at it. I made a mental note to invent a guillotine if it didn't already exist in this world.
Eventually, we reached the border town that was where we would be leaving Christofle behind. It was called Alenmur, a tiny town that survived on merchants buying supplies before entering the eternal forest. There was also a garrison there that inspected our wagons thoroughly to make sure we weren't trying to sneak any slaves out of the country. When they were done, Christofle addressed Newman with respect.
"Farewell, Newman. Once again, our collaboration was a success and thanks to your guards, I have managed to defeat a rival to my house. If the king looks upon my actions favorably, then perhaps I will be able to provide soldiers of my house instead of coming myself." Turning to me and Bekhi, he nodded ever so slightly. "Fare thee well, Kvalinn Runecursed. May the gods and your ancestors watch over you, and if you ever gain a title from some distant land, then pay me a visit and I will greet you right heartily." He then strode off to the citadel of the town to report the count's treason.
"There goes the only honest noble in Zaihan." Newman muttered to himself. Just barely audible to the rest of us. "C'mon. Let's put this wretched country behind us."
We all gladly walked over the border into the beginning of the Eternal Forest. The path would follow the Fontenalilia river until we reached Totchka. I looked down the curving road until it disappeared into the darkness of the trees.
"What monsters will we face here, Newman?" Bekhi asked with just a hint of a grin.
"We'll be facing something worse than monsters. There's wood elves and beastkin in the Eternal Forest. Both are highly territorial, so under no circumstances should you stray from the path. Depending on what race spots you if you stray from the path, you'll either be torn to shreds or turned into a pincushion full of arrows."
Duly noted. I added a red X to the Eternal Forest for setting up shop. Having a secret base in the middle of an impenetrable forest sounded cool, but I had no desire to put the rune of protection on my back to the test.
"Don't listen to Newman too much about the beastkin. They're just a bedtime story made up to keep kids like me well behaved." Richard looked out at the forest while fingering his bowstring. "It's the wood elves that you have to watch out for. Rumor has it that they can talk to trees, and if they hear that you injured one of their precious friends, then they'll shoot you straight in the eye. So only use branches that have fallen to the ground for fires."
"Beastkin are not a myth!" Peter said loudly. "They helped win the war against the first demon lord over a thousand years ago. The ancient records mention them numerous times!"
"Sure, kid. Should I watch out for the boogeyman too?" Richard ginned as Peter sputtered and moved back in the line while talking to himself. Newman stepped in to clear things up for everyone.
"Richard, neither wood elf nor beastkin have been seen for hundreds of years, so perhaps both are myths. Either way, make sure Peter doesn't use fire magic while we're in the forest. Legend says they don't take kindly to it after the Zaihanians tried smoking them out."
That night we made camp under the eves of the forest, and Newman regaled us with ancient myths and legends about the wood elves and beastkin until we all fell asleep. I just hoped that we didn't run afoul of any of the species Newman talked about while we were passing through the woods, it sounded like it would be a difficult fight to win since the gods had created them to have higher magic and stamina than humans.
As for the wood elves. They had been there since the beginning of their race. Or at least that's what the legends said. When the elves withdrew from the continent after the war of the first demon lord, the wood elves remained in their forest. Tending to the trees and building in harmony with nature. Barely twitching a pointed ear at the departure of their lofty minded cousins. When the human empire was formed, they had semi-friendly relations with it. Or to put it another way, they shot a warning arrow at any trespassers before killing them. But when Emperor Godfrey started enslaving beastkin and other demihumans, they cut off what little contact they had with the empire, and welcomed the escaped slaves into their forests.
The emperor at the time did not take kindly to this, and sent a poorly conceived military expedition to wage war with the wood elves. Due to the battle strategies of the time, which was to use disorganized human waves to defeat the enemy, they were completely annihilated by the wood elves militia warfare, and the beastkin hit and run tactics. Ever since then, the empire has left the small border they share with the Eternal Forest alone, and let Zaihan deal with the rest.
Some of the information that Newman shared was taught in school. But the rest was completely new information to me. So I made several notes to take back home for Elder Rongrim if I ever saw him again. That way the legends would be preserved by the long memories of the dwarves.
"So if the wood elves hate trespassers so much, then why are we going through their woods?" I asked in concern. Newman answered with another long winded story.
Apparently, the first hero emperor had bargained with the wood elves for safe passage for merchants, and they had agreed as long as no one touched the trees and followed the path of the river. Even though that emperor had died over a thousand years ago, the elves still honored the treaty as long as only merchants followed the path. I fell asleep that night and dreamed all night about getting shot in the back by elf arrows.