The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the rocky terrain as Belisarius led his band of five toward the distant estate. Tension and anticipation hummed through the group like a live wire, each member wrestling with their own unique motivations, thinking about the Sovereigns mission.
Targeld's massive frame vibrated with barely contained excitement, his calloused hand constantly brushing the hilt of his war axe as he hummed a tune. Daeva, the Dragonkin, walked with a predatory grace, his eyes scanning the horizon with an intensity that spoke of his nature. Kael sauntered with his typical swagger, though his wandering gaze betrayed his discomfort with the mission's lack of feminine companionship. Zazz remained an enigma, his thoughts hidden behind a veil of mystery.
Belisarius, their leader, recognized the volatile mix of personalities he'd assembled.
Daeva broke the silence, his reptilian eyes fixed on Belisarius. "Boss, I'm close to awakening. I can feel it. The battle ahead might be the trigger." There was a raw desperation in his voice, a hunger that went beyond mere combat.
Belisarius raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly happens when you 'awaken'?", a mix of confusion and exasperation in his tone.
A flash of frustration crossed Daeva's scaled features. "Did I really never tell you this? We Dragonkin are the remnants of a once-mighty race. Dragons, who were exterminated by the Demons in the Deity wars for aligning themselves with the Angelic powers. The Angel of Mercy took pity on us afterwards, and transformed our souls, preserving our essence in the bodies of fallen Human heroes." His voice dropped, carrying the weight of an ancient tragedy. "To awaken means to reclaim our true form—to become dragons once more."
"Sounds convenient," Kael muttered, more interested in adjusting his armor than the historical narrative.
Targeld let out a booming laugh. "Convenient? There's nothing convenient about transforming into a massive beast in the middle of a battle! Just means there's more of you to cut through."
Zazz, who had been silent until now, spoke with a voice like dry leaves crackling. "Awakening is not a switch to be flipped. It is a spiritual journey, triggered by extreme circumstances—profound emotional states, life-threatening battles, moments of ultimate revelation."
Daeva nodded, a mixture of hope and frustration etched into his features. "Precisely. Every battle, every challenge—I'm hoping it's the one that will unleash my true potential."
Kael rolled his eyes. "And what if you transform right when we need a delicate touch?
"He does have a point Daeva, we dont need you turning into a giant lizard and collapsing the roof on us when we're fighting inside some castle." Said Belisarius, thinking of the ways the Dragonkin's enthusiasm could endanger the party.
"Kael wouldn't know the first thing about my race. The only thing he'd think about is whether he could sleep with them," Daeva quipped, a sly grin forming on his face.
"Hey! I wouldn't think about that... I'd probably die trying," Kael protested, though his hesitation betrayed him.
"...But you would if you could?" Daeva pressed, his grin widening, egged on by Zazz's slight chuckle.
"...No comment," Kael muttered, looking away.
A collective chuckle rippled through the group, breaking the tension. Belisarius watched his motley crew with a mixture of exasperation and genuine affection. Each member was a weapon, unique and unpredictable, but together they formed something greater than their individual parts.
-----
The late afternoon sunlight bathed the weathered estate in a golden haze, casting long shadows across the overgrown grounds. Targeld had momentarily disappeared, grumbling about the dire shortage of alcohol as Belisarius watched his companions—Kael, Daeva, and Zazz—retreat to their quarters within the mansion.
With five members now gathered, Belisarius decided it was time to begin learning about whatever their quest was, and maybe letting his party gather information on their own. However, a thought crossed his mind—he wasn't entirely sure who else actually belonged to his party. Almost as if to answer that thought, Targeld emerged.
"Boss, aren't we going to get Horse?" Asked Targeld, coming back out of the estate carrying a large jug of mead.
"Horse? Ah, I suppose having a horse to carry our supplies would be useful," Bel replied, a bit puzzled.
"Uhh, no boss, I meant Corporal Horse."
"...Who the hell is Corporal Horse?"
"Quit playing around, boss. We can go get him right now."
Skeptical but intrigued, Belisarius followed Targeld to a sprawling field. A solitary horse stood in the center, leisurely grazing without a care in the world. The horse was impressive, with a glossy chestnut coat that gleamed in the sunlight and a thick, flowing mane that danced gently in the breeze. Its muscular build and dignified stance hinted at both strength and intelligence.
Without warning, Targeld let out an excited war cry and charged across the field. The massive warrior launched himself into the air, landing squarely on the horse's back with a surprising grace for someone of his size.
The horse reared back in surprise, letting out a loud, indignant whinny that echoed across the field.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet.
[Hey, get off of me!]
Belisarius froze, blinking rapidly as he tried to process what he'd just heard. His gaze darted around, convinced it had to be someone else nearby. A stable hand maybe? But no. The horse—the horse—had spoken.
Targeld, oblivious to Belisarius' confusion, threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh, clearly enjoying the impromptu rodeo. The sight of Targeld riding the horse without a single worry didn't help Belisarius' growing sense of bewilderment.
"Did that horse just... talk?" Belisarius muttered aloud, his mind still racing to catch up with reality.
As if to confirm his growing disbelief, the horse halted abruptly, its eyes widening in shock as it turned to look directly at Belisarius.
[You can talk??]
Belisarius froze. His thoughts whirled in utter confusion. "I can talk? You can talk... and you're a horse." His voice was flat, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it more believable.
The horse blinked, as if reconsidering its existence for a moment.
[...Oh, I guess you're right.] It shrugged—did the horse just shrug?
Belisarius simply stood there, mouth agape, as the horse returned to grazing like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"That's Corporal Horse." Targeld chuckled, as if this bizarre situation was completely normal.
Belisarius shot Targeld a baffled look, his eyebrows knit together in utter confusion. "Wait, you just recruited this horse, and it can talk? And you named him Corporal Horse?"
Targeld nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, yeah! I mean, as soon as I heard him talk, it only made sense. Plus, look at him—he's got that military bearing, don't you think?"
Belisarius ran a hand through his hair, struggling to process this bizarre turn of events. "Targeld, I've never seen or heard of a talking horse before today, let alone one that acts like a soldier. Are you sure this isn't some weird magic trick?"
The horse—Corporal Horse—tilted his head, [I prefer to think of myself as uniquely qualified,] eyeing Belisarius with an air of bemused patience.
Belisarius blinked, trying to reconcile the absurdity of the situation with the horse's calm demeanor. "Targeld, I feel like I'm losing my mind here. We've recruited a talking horse, and this is just... normal to you?"
Targeld shrugged casually. "Why not? We've dealt with weirder things, right? I mean I'm not entirely sure what he is, he's different from the Beastmen of House Equus, but he isn't just a horse. Besides, he's got a lot of potential. Did you hear how confidently he talks? He could be a great asset."
Corporal Horse nodded, as if to affirm his new role in the group. [Indeed, and I love eating.]
Belisarius stared at the horse, then back at Targeld, trying to determine if this was some elaborate joke. But the sincerity in their faces suggested they were entirely serious.
"Alright," Belisarius sighed, still trying to wrap his mind around the situation. "Let's say I go along with this. Corporal Horse is now part of the team. What exactly is he supposed to do besides... well, being a horse?"
Before Targeld could answer, Corporal Horse pawed the ground with a hint of indignation. [I'm more than just a horse. I can strategize, defend, and even lead if needed.]
Targeld beamed, clearly pleased with his latest recruit. "See, boss? He's a natural fit for our team."
Belisarius pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the weight of the absurdity pressing down on him. "This day just keeps getting stranger. Fine. Welcome to the team, Corporal Horse."
[Delighted to be aboard, boss,] the horse responded with what could only be described as a dignified bow.
Targeld gave a thumbs-up, sliding off the horse's back and landing with a solid thud. "I knew you'd see the potential, boss. We're going to do great things together."
Shaking his head in disbelief, Belisarius turned back toward the manor, gesturing for Targeld and Corporal Horse to follow.
Targeld beamed, clearly pleased with his latest recruitment. Corporal Horse trotted alongside, occasionally pausing to nibble on particularly enticing patches of grass.
Just another day in their increasingly bizarre adventure.
-----
The manor's grand hall resonated with a palpable tension as Belisarius entered. His companions stood fully prepared—armor gleaming, weapons secured, each embodying a different shade of readiness. Daeva's scaled skin rippled with anticipation, Kael adjusted his leather bracers with practiced nonchalance, and Zazz remained an enigmatic statue of silent preparation.
"Alright everyone, we're assembled," Belisarius announced, his voice cutting through the silence. "Time to understand our mission."
As he spoke, Corporal Horse trotted in behind Belisarius, causing a momentary pause in the room's atmosphere. Kael's eyebrow arched questioningly, but a subtle shake of Belisarius's head forestalled any immediate interrogation.
There would be time later to delve into the mysteries of talking horses. For now, they had a mission to focus on, and Belisarius intended to lead them through it—no matter how bizarre things became along the way. First on the list, they needed to figure out what exactly their mission was.
Reaching into his breast pocket, he produced an envelope that immediately commanded attention—crisp white parchment bound by a crimson ribbon, sealed with an imperial wax stamp. The mark of the Emperor itself visible on the seal.
Kael leaned forward, eyes glinting with curiosity. "Imperial correspondence. Never thought I'd see one up close."
Daeva chuckled, a low rumbling sound. "Try not to fall in love with a piece of paper, Elfie."
Kael's glare could have melted steel, but he remained silent.
Belisarius broke the seal with deliberate care, unfolding the document. His voice rang clear and authoritative as he read:
.
Clearing his throat to get everyone's attention, Belisarius opened the letter and began reading it aloud for all to hear.
"Emperor Reiner Dominus De Dawnspire, to Baron Belisarius of Altera Vita,
Winter approaches—and with it, the Iceforged. Our borders face a threat unlike any we've encountered. Mortal and immortal forces converge, threatening to overwhelm us. I call upon you, and every mercenary band within the realm, big or small, to stand against this impending darkness.
The Crusables fight a brutal war. The Savages of The Badlands have breached the Black Bastion—a fortification many considered impenetrable. Meanwhile, the Imperium struggles to suppress the dissenter kingdoms. We are stretched thin, vulnerable.
I call on you to help us against the frozen terror descending from the north. Your mission is clear: Scout the northern barbarian movements. The Radiant Host shall arrive to Valethorn, capital of Aegisgrad within 4 weeks, and from there will march to Arendale. Until then, we need eyes and ears tracking these forces.
Of course, I do not expect this to be completed out of obligation or duty. The Sovereignty is willing to pay handsomely in our time of need to any who shall accept such a mission.
As Emperor of Humanity, I thank any and all who accept the call. Farewell, and may the radiance of our God shine down on you."
Finishing the letter, Belisarius' party members began talking amongst themselves. But Belisarius was too busy thinking to himself to hear any of it.
'Well at least I know where I am now, what I'm supposed to be doing, and a small semblance of who I am. Baron Belisarius huh. Its got a nice ring to it.'
Clapping his hands, Belisarius gathered his men's attention. "Now then, does everyone understand what we're doing here?"
Targeld, who had been quiet most of the time, suddenly spoke up, a cold glint growing deep within his eyes, hidden behind his stoic expression. "So its true. The Iceforged are coming. My people venture south again."
"Forget about that Targeld! The Savages have breached the Black Bastion, the west is going to fall long before the north does!" Exclaimed Kael, suddenly tense, nervous at the revelation.
Daeva's reptilian features coiled, his scales shifting with barely contained anger. "And The Imperium? Consumed by its own internal conflicts while threats gather at the borders?" There was a hint of contempt in his voice, a warrior's frustration at political shortsightedness.
'Wow. That was not the response I was looking for. At least Corporal Horse kept his cool.'
Corporal Horse, seemingly the most relaxed in the room, was being meticulously groomed by Zazz—the enigmatic Novaki who rarely spoke but always seemed to see more than anyone else.
Belisarius turned to Zazz, hoping for some clarity. "Your thoughts?
Zazz, hearing his name, slowly stopped brushing Corporal Horse and turned to face Bel.
"It is troubling news indeed. The Iceforged move with a purpose not seen since the Deity wars. The Savages have overcome the Black Bastion for the first time, a terrible shift in the balances of power, and The Imperium's internal strife has devolved into a devastating civil war.
He paused, his fingers absently stroking Corporal Horse's mane. "The Web of Seers trembles. The Noval Weave stretches. Change is coming."
Belisarius blinked, momentarily overwhelmed. "...Okay. Not exactly what I was looking for." he said, trying to sound more in control than he felt. "So... how do we actually find out what we're supposed to do?"
Daeva intercepted, a mischievous glint in his reptilian eyes. "Ask Ikit. He knows everything."
"Ikit? But he's not even here," Belisarius protested.
Daeva's laugh was sharp, knowing. "He's always here. You just have to... call him."
Belisarius looked skeptical. "Just like that? I just speak, and he appears?"
"Exactly," Daeva confirmed. "Come on, boss. You've done this a thousand times."
Almost forgetting that he was supposed to know these things, Belisarius played it off. "I'm just joking with you Daeva."
Belisarius cleared his throat and spoke, "Ikit, where can I find information about our mission?"
The shadows themselves seemed to coalesce, and suddenly Ikit was there—a small, ratlike figure draped in darkness.
"Boss-boss! Go to big middle wall, find Gordon Reeber. He know-know everything!" Then, as quickly as he'd appeared, Ikit dissolved back into the shadows.
Corporal Horse, utterly unfazed, turned to Belisarius. [Interesting recruitment method,] he observed dryly.
-----
The group of seven, counting Ikit, set out from the manor. The city of Arendale, insulated by the magic barrier was still warm as the late afternoon sun began to dip. The streets were lively, people going about their evening routines.
Belisarius led the group through the winding streets, the towering buildings of the city casting long shadows as the sun sank lower. Despite the warmth within the barrier, a sense of unease hung in the air, the knowledge that just beyond the city's walls lay a frozen, hostile world weighing heavily on everyone.
The group's procession through Arendale's streets was nothing short of extraordinary. Belisarius led the way, with Corporal Horse trotting alongside him—a sight that turned heads and dropped jaws. Targeld's massive frame cleared a path almost effortlessly, while Daeva's scaled skin caught the late afternoon light in mesmerizing patterns. Kael sauntered with his typical roguish swagger, and Zazz moved like a mechanical robot.
"Quite the parade we're making," Kael muttered, catching the stares of several passersby.
Daeva chuckled, his reptilian features twisting into a sardonic grin. "Nothing says 'we're here on important business' like a talking horse and a band that looks like it was assembled from the edges of reality."
Corporal Horse, ever dignified, straightened his posture. [I'll have you know I carry myself with the utmost military bearing.]
Targeld let out a booming laugh that echoed off the stone buildings. "That you do, Corporal. That you do."
As they approached the central wall—a massive structure that quite literally divided the city's social classes—the atmosphere grew more refined. The cobblestones became smoother, the buildings more ornate. Intricate magical barriers shimmered subtly, marking the boundaries between different districts.
"The noble district," Daeva explained to Belisarius, his voice tinged with a mixture of contempt and fascination. "Where the elite hide behind their wall and magical barriers, pretending the rest of the world doesn't exist."
Zazz, unusually talkative, added, "Walls are more than stone and magic. They're manifestations of fear and power."
Kael rolled his eyes. "Philosophical as always, Zazz."
Belisarius studied the approaching wall. The gatehouse was a marvel of architectural and magical engineering—stone and enchantment intertwined so seamlessly it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. Flux of Calamity must have went all out with the nobilities defenses. Armed guards stood at attention, their uniforms crisp, their postures rigid.
One of the guards, a veteran with a scarred face and keen eyes, stepped forward. "Halt. State your business."
Before anyone could respond, Corporal Horse took a step forward. [We seek Gordon Reeber. Official mercenary business.]
The guard blinked. Blinked again.
"Did... did that horse just speak?"
Targeld clapped the guard on the shoulder with such force that the man nearly stumbled. "Get used to it, friend. He's Corporal Horse, and he's more articulate than half the officers I've met."
Belisarius suppressed a smile, stepping forward with the Sovereigns envelope. "We're here on imperial business. We need to speak with Gordon Reeber about our upcoming mission."
The guard, still recovering from the talking horse incident, mechanically checked their documents. Something in the imperial seal seemed to trigger an immediate change in his demeanor—from suspicious to deferential.
"The Reeber residence is in the third tier," he said, pointing to a street that wound between elaborate mansions. "Can't miss it. Look for the blue and silver banners."
As they passed through the gate, the magical barriers rippling around them, Ikit appeared on Belisarius's shoulder. "Careful-careful boss," the ratman whispered. "Noble district always has more eyes than you see-see."
-----
The Reeber residence stood out even among the opulent mansions of the noble district. Intricate blue and silver banners hung from marble columns, depicting heraldic symbols that spoke of generations of careful breeding and political maneuvering. The building itself was a testament to architectural precision—each stone placed with mathematical accuracy, magical wards glimmering subtly around its perimeter.
Corporal Horse surveyed the entrance with a professional eye. [Defensible position. Good sight lines. Strategic placement.]
Daeva chuckled. "Always the strategist, aren't you?"
Targeld approached the ornate front door, his massive frame seeming almost comically out of place among the delicate architectural details. Before he could knock, the door opened—seemingly of its own accord.
A servant appeared, impeccably dressed in blue and silver colors, his movements precise and calculated. "Baron Belisarius, I presume? Master Reeber has been expecting you."
Belisarius exchanged a quick glance with his companions. Zazz's near-imperceptible nod suggested this was neither coincidence nor surprise.
The interior of the Reeber residence was no less impressive than its exterior. Magical illumination created a soft, almost ethereal light that seemed to dance across intricate tapestries and precisely arranged Artifacts. Even if useless and mundane, each Artifact was worth a fortune.
The servant led them through a series of corridors that seemed to shift and change subtly—a clear indication of complex magic at work. Kael leaned close to Belisarius, whispering, "I've seen my share of noble houses, but this... this is something else."
Corporal Horse navigated the narrow corridors with surprising grace. [Impressive architectural manipulation,] he observed.
Finally, they entered a large study. Gordon Reeber stood with his back to them, studying a massive map that covered an entire wall. He was a tall, lean man with the look of someone who had spent more time studying strategy than engaging in physical combat. When he turned, his eyes—sharp and intelligent—swept across the group.
"Interesting band of mercenaries," Reeber said, his voice smooth and calculated. "Not quite what I expected when the Emperor's call went out."
Belisarius stepped forward. "We're here about the mission. The Iceforged."
A slight smile played across Reeber's lips. "Indeed. And not a moment too soon."