The Homecoming 13.

A Palace...

"Hell" mutters Mira Reinholt the mage, who then adds "You didn't teleport in and out of there blind did you?".
"Of course not" says Helbe the elven thief in an offended tone of voice, the young elven noble continues with "I changed part of the ceiling to air so i look down into the cell". The once powerful mage grunts at hearing that as the elven masterthief helps him along a hallway.
"You know you could thank me for rescuing you" says the elven magic user who has taken the shackles off the ankles of the mage Reinholt, but not the anti-magic ones off his wrists.
"Thanks" dryly says the exiled Vexilian mage who continues in that same dry tone of voice with "But we're not exactly out of here yet" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, then adds "Wherever the fuck here is?".
"A palace" says prince Helbenthril Raendril as they hurry down the empty hallway, Mira Reinholt winces then mutters "Fuck". "Don't worry, it's not a royal one, nor is it in the king's domain".
"That's only slightly better then" murmurs the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who as he runs, holds out his hands and says "Take these damn things off me".
"They can't sense you with them on" explains the elven noble from the principality of Laerel, who continues with "Might as well keep them on for now".
"Makes sense" says the mage Reinholt, who then adds "I need my things, they must of taken them off me when they brought me here".
The elven master assassin nods in the direction they're going, and he says "Just up ahead" followed by "Then we're out of here for good".
They enter a room, which the once powerful mage sees is a guard room, there's a couple of unconscious figures slumped over a table, and another one on a stool next to the door.
The swordmaster Reinholt sees his things piled on a side table, and he goes and gathers them. With the help of the elven princeling, he puts on his two swords, and his other blades. As well as other assorted things.
The exiled Vexilian mage then searches around, then mutters "Damn" followed by "Where's my amulet?".
"Who knows" says Helbe the elven thief, who continues with "No time to look for it now, we've got to get the hell out of here".
Mira Reinholt frowns, then he looks sharply at his fellow spellcaster, and says in an annoyed tone of voice "Hand it over you thief".
"Why Mira, how could you say such a thing" says the young elven noble in an injured tone of voice "Because that's what you are, a thief" says the highly skilled swordmaster who then adds "Now hand it over you right royal thief".
With a wry smile upon his youthful looking face, the elven masterthief hands the once powerful mage the amulet. The Vexilian mage in exile puts the necklace on, then tells the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel "Now take these bloody things off me".
With a gesture from the elven princeling, the anti-magic shackles fall off the wrists of the mage Reinholt, and drop to the floor.
"Bring them along" says Helbe the elven thief who continues with "They're worth a shitload of coin" he pauses for a moment before adding "And the fact they could come in quite handy at times".
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, nods in agreement. And he picks up the magical device, before saying "Now where?".
"This way" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who then leads the way back out of the guard room. Once in the hallway again, they head left, where in the distance the swordmaster Reinholt spots some steps going up.
The mage who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil, figures they must be under the palace. In a level just above the dungeons, where the cell that he was being held in, is located.
As they get to the end of the hallway, where a couple of unconscious guards a lying near the foot of the steps. Mira Reinholt asks "Any reason that lot in the cell with me aren't chasing us at the moment?".
As they pass the two guards who the elven master assassin knocked out as he was making his way down here to free the once powerful mage, the young elven noble says "They're still talking to you".
"They are?" says the mage Reinholt as they head up the steps "Well they think they are" says the elven princeling from Laerel who then adds "I doubt they'll ever figure it out they're not until i drop that illusion spell".
The exiled Vexilian mage nods in understanding, as he knows it's impossible to tell what's real from one of the powerful greater illusion spells cast by the elven magic user.
For as long as he's known prince Helbenthril Raendril, he can't tell the difference between what's real and one of his illusion spells. And the mage Reinholt knows what to look for too. But that still doesn't make a difference.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who a little while ago, was sitting in a chair in the middle of a cell talking to his captors. And the next moment he was standing in a completely different room, held up by the young elven noble who freed him.
Says to the elven masterthief "Where is he?". "Outside" replies Helbe the elven thief, who continues with "Told me to hurry the fuck up and get you out of here as quickly as possible" the elven magic user then dryly adds "If not, he'd come in here and get you out instead".
The once powerful mage winces at that, as he knows if that would of happened. A lot of violence and dead bodies would of resulted. At least with the elven princeling freeing him, he did it without anyone knowing.
The same can't be said if it was lord Farque who'd entered the palace, and made his way down to the dungeons, to break the Vexilian mage in exile out of the cell he was being held in.
"Good thing you were here" murmurs Mira Reinholt as they continue up the stairs "It's so nice to be wanted" says the elven magic user who quietly chuckles as he leads the way up to the ground floor of the palace.
They get to the top of the steps, and prince Helbenthril Raendril glances around the corner, he looks back at his fellow spellcaster who he's known nearly a decade, and quietly asks him in the elven language "You want a bit of excitement?".
"Not particularly" dryly murmurs the once powerful mage who knows the young elven noble's form of excitement is a hell of a lot different than his own.
The mage Reinholt who can be daring in his own way, knows that he's got nothing on the elven princeling's sense of excitement. Which is just sheer danger in the opinion of the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster.
"Too late" murmurs the grinning elven masterthief, who then tells the exiled Vexilian mage "No need to blur the two of us".
Mira Reinholt is just about to suggest that he'll turn himself invisible, and get himself out of here. When the young elven noble takes hold of his right arm, and the two of them disappear.
For the briefest of moments, the swordmaster Reinholt finds himself in mid-air, thirty feet above a marble floor in a large room within the palace.
A fraction of an instant later, less time than it takes him to blink, he's gone. The next moment he's standing outside on a street, in an area within the second domain that he recognises. Standing next to him is his fellow spellcaster Helbenthril Raendril.
Fucking hell by the shape of fire that was fast! Mira Reinholt thinks to himself. He knows he could of done the exact same thing that the elven magic user just did. But no where near as quickly. As he would've teleported, and not shifted like the elven princeling did to the two of them.
The once powerful mage who didn't even see whatever it was Helbe the elven thief looked out of to see where they'd end up, a window no doubt. Slightly grunts, then says "Fast" as the only compliment for what the young elven noble just did.
"Would of been even quicker if it was just me by myself" says the elven masterthief, the Vexilian mage in exile slightly winces at the idea of that, as he felt quite nauseous moving at the speed they went anyway. If he'd gone any faster, he's not afraid to admit it, that he'd probably would of thrown up.
They cross the street to where the grandson of Prince Raendril of Laerel points, once across the road, they go around a corner into a wide lane, where they find lord Farque leaning against the front of the first building to their left.
The two spellcasters, one human in his early thirties, and the other elven who is over two hundred and ten years old, join the undead warlord infront of the building.
"What's that illusion spell you're still casting there?" asks lord Farque who waves a gauntleted hand in the direction of the nearby palace where the mage Reinholt was being held "Mira" says Helbe the elven thief with a nod of his hooded head to the slightly shorter mage standing next to him.
"At the moment one of his captors has just punched him in the face because he keeps calling the man a pile of shit" says the elven magic user, the heavily armoured deathlord rolls his eyes, then he looks at the once powerful mage and asks him "What did you do this time?" followed by "Who did you fuck off now that they decided to capture you, and most likely kill you?".
"How did you know i did anything?" mutters the swordmaster Reinholt as the three of them walk down the wide lane "Because you're you Mira" dryly says the lord of the death realm who then continues with "You fuck people off constantly, hell you annoy the fuck out of me every single day, that i want to kill you most days" he then adds "And this is the kinder, gentler and more understanding Mira you are nowadays, and not the total fucking asshole you were before you went through that void you accidentally made".
Mira Reinholt winces, then he scowls at Helbe the elven thief who bursts out into laughter beside him.
"Ah fuck up" mutters the once powerful mage to his fellow spellcaster, who then clears his throat, and says to the large, heavily armoured figure of the undead warlord "I have no idea who they were" the Vexilian mage in exile then dryly adds "Except one was an old war buddy of mine who i can't even remember, who is pissed off that i turned on those who invaded the Sunreach Mountains".
"Figures" says Draugadrottin as he's also known by to the people of his lands faraway to the south of the kingdom of Druvic, he continues with "Bound to happen if anyone remembers who you were, and what you did back then".
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque then quietly adds "That goes for anyone of us who was here back then" the lord of the death realm says "We were all pretty visible back then, some people will remember us no matter what" he glances at the two spellcasters, and quietly tells them "After all we did set into motion their civil war with what we did when we attacked the capital".
Both Mira Reinholt and Helbe the elven thief nod in agreement. For not only the exiled Vexilian mage was highly visible back then here in the city of Leeabra.
But lord Farque himself brought down the dragon Nol out of the sky, and prince Helbenthril Raendril finally killed the dragon, along with Sephiryn the elemental, another member of the group at the time.
That happened in the Great Square, just infront of the Grand Arcade, which is only a couple hundred yards away from the lane they're walking through here in the second domain of the city of Leeabra.
As they head south into the city, Helbe the elven thief, who quickly read the minds of the captors who took the mage Reinholt, informs the other two to who they are.
"A liegeman to the Chancellor, the most important noble in the kingdom not in the royal family eh" says Mira Reinholt who then adds "Seems my old war buddy knows someone important" he looks at the elven magic user, and asks him "And that other is the Chancellor's pet mage?".
"He is" says the elven princeling, who continues with "The Chancellor who if current gossip is anything to go by, is the main rival to the current Provo Marshall, who by the way happens to be a commoner".
"Fucking politics" mutters lord Farque, the two spellcasters glance at one another. Since that's rather odd coming from the ruler of a nation. Though there is no politics in his lands. As he's the absolute ruler, and basically a dictator of the lands that bares his family's name.
Narladene the ground pixie appears on the right shoulder of Helbe the elven thief, and informs them all that the mage Reinholt's captors are still talking to, and still beating up the illusion of the once powerful mage that's in the cell that the swordmaster Reinholt was previously in.
"We're leaving i gather?" asks Mira Reinholt "We are" is the reply of lord Farque as they turn onto a street that takes them out of the second domain of Leeabra "Good" murmurs the human spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil.
Next to him, the elven magic user from the island principality of Laerel, drops the illusion spell he's been continually casting since freeing the mage Reinholt.
In a cell in the dungeon beneath the palace of the Chancellor, one of the guards who is the act of punching the prisoner. Stumbles forward as his fist passes through nothing, and clips the back of the chair.
There's a moment of confused silence as those in the cell wonder what's just happened, then they start yelling and shouting at one another, wanting to know what's happened to their prisoner, and where he's suddenly got to . . . . . .

The Homecoming 12.

The Streets...

Walking along a street in the city of Leeabra, Helbe the elven thief briefly stops and looks around to see where he is. The young elven noble slightly nods his hooded head once he recognises where he is, then he continues on his way.
The elven magic user passes through a quiet square, then makes his way along a lane. He exits it, and crosses a wide street, one of many here in the southeast of the city. The elven princeling goes through an archway and enters a square. This one busier than the one he went through previously.
He goes across the square, and at the northeast quarter of it, he rounds the corner onto a street.
The young noble from the elven principality of Laerel walks behind a trio of tradesmen, who are quietly chatting away about their business. In this case wine, as they're merchants from the south of the kingdom.
As they head right across the street, the elven masterthief turns left and opens a door, and enters a small tavern. One of the more expensive one's to be found anywhere in the city.
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel after closing the door behind him, looks quickly around, then walks across to a small table in one corner of the tavern. There he sits down opposite the large, heavily armoured figure sitting at the table.
"Got any new information?" asks lord Farque who speaks in the royal elven language "Nothing new" is the reply of Helbe the elven thief in the same language. The undead warlord sitting opposite him, slightly nods his full helmed head, then says "Well that's that then" the heavily armoured deathlord adds "We'll be heading east then".
"Looks like it" says the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, who then asks "Now?".
"Might as well" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who after a slight pause, continues with "Let's go and find this war engineer who may or may not follow the old druidic ways in the east of the kingdom".
The elven spellcaster nods his hooded head in agreement, then he looks at the deathlord of Farque, who asks him "Where's the mage?".
"I had Narladene go and find him" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who continues in a mutter with "Since i can't locate him nowadays because of that damn amulet he wears".
The elven masterthief then adds "I told her to tell him, to meet us back here" the undead being, who is the lord of the death realm, nods his full helmed head, then asks "Which way?".
"North" is the reply of the elven magic user, who continues with "She went off towards the second domain". The heavily armoured deathlord who is also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, slightly nods then senses away to the north through the capital city of the kingdom of Druvic.
It's in no time that the undead warlord locates the unique lifeform of Narladene the ground pixie, who is heading in this direction.
"I've found that gnat of yours" quietly says lord Farque, who then adds "She's heading back this way, fast" he pauses for a moment then says "By herself".
Helbe the elven thief who has just ordered a glass of wine from a passing serving woman, sits up straight in his chair, and looks at the large, heavily armoured figure sitting on the otherside of the small table, and quietly asks him "Mira?".
For a response, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque slightly shakes his full helmed head, and he senses northwards through the city. Sensing all life, as well as death, searching for a particular spellcaster that he knows well.
It's not too long before he finds the individual in question "Found him" quietly says the heavily armoured deathlord who slightly frowns behind the full visor of his helm.
"He's not" quietly asks Helbe the elven thief "No, he's alive" says the undead warlord who momentarily pauses before adding "He's not exactly moving though" lord Farque then says "He's basically in the same spot".
The elven princeling from Laerel can think of a number of reasons as to why that is, and he comes up with the most obvious one "Injured, wounded?" asks the elven magic user.
"No" is the answer of lord Farque, so the young elven noble asks him the next most obvious reason "In a cell?".
"Most likely" is the response from the lord of the death realm, who continues with "He's probably being held in a prison of some kind" he then adds in a slight mutter "What the fuck have you been up to this time mage?".
The elven magic user slightly winces at the predicament his fellow spellcaster is in at the moment. As he does, Narladene the ground pixie appears, after coming up through the floor of the tavern, and through the table they're sitting at.
"Mira's been captured" says a near breathless Narladene the ground pixie in the elven language as she appears next to the right elbow of the elven princeling that she's attached to.
Lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief look at one another, then the heavily armoured deathlord says in a slightly dry tone of voice "I suppose we better go and free the useless fucker then".
The hood is taken off his head, and Mira Reinholt the mage blinks, then looks down at his hands in his lap. He sees the manacles around his wrists, and immediately sees what he figured they were, anti-magic shackles.
The once powerful mage who finds he's in a cell of some kind, sees a couple of guards come into view from where they were behind him.
They're in fairly nondescript armour, without any tabards, or coat of arms to identify him. They don't look at him, as they cross to the solid looking cell door, which they open, and go through as they exit the cell. The door closes behind them.
And in the cell, that's lit by a single lamp on a wall hook, the mage Reinholt slightly sighs, then sourly smiles to himself at the predicament he now finds himself in.
Earlier the Vexilian mage in exile was making his way through the city streets, near the second domain of Leeabra. The once powerful mage who was looking out across a square, suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull, that sent him quickly into unconsciousness.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, only knew that he was attacked magically as he was blacking out, and that he couldn't do anything to resist it, which was more than annoying, especially to his ego.
The mage Reinholt who is sitting upon a wooden chair in the middle of the cell, whose ankles are chained with normal looking shackles, knows that he'll be eventually freed by lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief once he doesn't show up to meet them.
He knows they'll locate him, and release him from whatever prison he's in. It's just that he has to stay alive until then. The exiled Vexilian mage has a made a lot of enemies over the years in a lot of places. With the city of Leeabra and the kingdom of Druvic being no exception.
He just hopes whoever it is that's captured him, doesn't kill him anytime soon.
That would be annoying, Mira Reinholt the mage dryly thinks to himself, as he sits there in the middle of the cell, wondering who it is that's captured him, and if they're going to kill him fairly soon.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, thinks not. He's been captured many times, and been in plenty of prisons over the years.
And he gets the feeling that whoever it is that's captured him this time, wants to make a point. Whoever it is, should of killed him immediately, that's what he would do if it he was one of his own enemies.
People are such fucking idiots, always wanting to make a statement of some kind, the highly skilled swordmaster thinks to himself, who knows the longer he's here in this cell, the higher chance of him being released by lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief.
As usual when he's being held against his will, the mage Reinholt does a number of mental exercises. Usually calculations, starting off with a basic counting exercise, which he'll then go onto a multiplication exercise. He's in the simple task of counting to ten thousand, when at three thousand and eighty two, the door to the cell opens once more.
The once powerful mage stops his counting exercise as the two guards from earlier walk into the cell, they're followed by three others.
From their clothing, the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil guesses they're either noblemen or court officials of some kind. Probably both knowing his luck.
Of the three, the one on the right he immediately recognises as a spellcaster, to be precise, a mage. He can tell that by the arrogant stance, and look on upon the face of the young man.
Mira Reinholt should know, he once had a similar demeanour himself, until most of his powers were stripped from him when he was offworld on the otherside of a rift/void he accidentally cast.
The person on the right of the trio is a mage, but it's the one in the middle that the swordmaster Reinholt looks at, is the one that's  in charge here, and they're the one who talks first.
"So, Mira Reinholt has returned to Leeabra" says the fellow in the middle, around the mage Reinholt's age, though slightly shorter, and a bit stocky compared to the once powerful mage.
"When word reached me that you had been spotted here in the capital after all these years, i couldn't believe my luck" says the man in the middle who is doing all the talking.
"I'm so glad for you" dryly says Mira Reinholt the mage who knows the longer he keeps this guy talking, the longer he'll be kept alive, and the more time lord Farque and Helbe the elven thief will have to find him and get him out of here, wherever here is.
The man in the middle of the three smirks, then says "You don't remember me do you?". "Can't say that i do" says the once powerful mage who pauses for a moment, before adding "Wait a moment i think i do" the exiled Vexilian mage continues with "That's right, you look like some shit i stepped in when i was last here in this dump of a city, that's it, you're shit pile, i never forget a shit pile when i see one".
The mage Reinholt grins, and gets a heavy slap across the face by one of the guards standing on either side of the chair he's sitting in.
Well that was bound to happen, the highly skilled swordsmaster dryly thinks to himself who winces as his jaw stings after that hit.
"Eloquent as ever" dryly says the individual the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil just insulted. He then says "We served together in the war in the mountains before the turmoil here in Druvic".
Ah an old war buddy, Mira Reinholt sourly thinks to himself.
"I was a junior officer in my lord's regiment that day of the battle your friend the wizard Laevell was killed, and you fled back here to Leeabra" says the man doing all the talking.
The once powerful mage refrains from wincing at the mention of the wizard who was one of the two mentors he had when he was living here in the kingdom of Druvic.
The wizard Laevell who unfortunately died when lord Farque killed him, when the forces they were part of. Were attacked by the defenders in the Sunreach Mountains. Who were led by their hired general, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
"And i was here in the capital when you turned your back on the kingdom, and helped those elemental scum from the mountains that day they showed up here" says the individual talking to the captive mage.
"People thought you died helping to defend the city, but you were spotted in the Grand Arcade fighting your other mentor the dragon Nol" says the former junior officer in the army that invaded the Sunreach Mountains nearly nine years ago, he continues with "And this was after the destruction of the Hall of the People in the second domain and most of those in it, which only you were powerful enough to do, since your old dragon friend didn't do it".
"Oh yeah, i remember doing all of that" says Mira Reinholt in a blithe manner, who with a grin upon his face, adds "Fun times". Which earns him another slap across the face from one of the guards, this one even harder.
After slightly grimacing, the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, moves his jaw from side to side, before saying "Though i still can't exactly remember who you are" he pauses for a moment of two, before adding "Apart from being a pile of shit".
The once powerful mage gets a punch across the face this time, causing him to slump sideways in the chair.
"He's stalling" says the person on the left, the oldest of the three facing the captive spellcaster. The one the highly skilled swordmaster has identified as a mage nods his head in agreement with the older man who just spoke, and he says "He thinks he'll be rescued".
"That's not going to happen" says the individual in the middle who has done most of the talking, he continues with "Ever".
"I wouldn't be so sure of that" dryly says Mira Reinholt who has just spotted Narladene the ground pixie appear near the closed door.
The tiny winged creature who only he can see, is pointing upwards and grinning.
The Vexilian mage in exile looks at his captors, and grins at them as he says "Hate to disappoint you, but i'm pretty certain I'll be leaving fairly soon" . . . . . .

The Homecoming 11.

A Practice Yard...

There's a practice yard just outside the east wall of castle Lé Dic. And in it, Lisell Maera steps back and lifts her blade to indicate she's had enough.
Facing her, Tamric Drubine nods then says "You're getting better". The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin returns his sword to it's scabbard and adds "You should use the sword more often, you're actually pretty good with it".
The older teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury lifts an eyebrow, due to Tam not usually being one for compliments, especially encouraging one's.
"Maybe" says Lisell Maera, who prefers a shorter blade than a sword for close in fighting. She prefers ranged weapons even more. A bias she'll never truly get over no matter how good she'll get with a melee weapon.
"What do you think Dorc?" asks Tamric Drubine who looks away to their right to where the large ork is sitting upon the ground about twenty yards away.
Lis who is glad that there's a cold wind blowing this morning to help keep her cool, looks over at the ork warleader, who she sees isn't even looking at them. Infact he's paid them very little attention at all as they've practiced.
"Seems he'd rather watch something else" dryly says Lisell Maera in the elven language, the son of the former knight of castle Drubine in Sarcrin nods his head in agreement as they look at the ork weaponsmith who is looking further eastwards.
"Dorc!" calls out Tam, which illicits a grunt from the large ork, who finally looks away from what he's watching, and looks over at the two teens who have been practicing their swordwork this cool, winter's morning.
"What cunt?" asks Dorc da Orc, who doesn't look at them long, as he goes back to watching what's happening in the field further east of the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family.
"Lis is getting better with the sword, don't you think?' asks the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin "Yeah sure, whatever cunt" says the warleader of the ork race in a non committal tone of voice as he continues to look away to the east.
Both Tam and Lis roll their eyes, then after sharing a look, the older teen from the west coast of the Southlands, says in the elven language "He's too busy watching that" the younger teen nods his head in agreement with her. Then the two of them wander over to where the big, burly ork is sitting on the ground.
After she takes a drink from her water sack, Lisell Maera looks away to their left, and sees a group of people making their way out of the castle, across the drawbridge, then along the road to the field that's a bit of a hive of activity this morning.
Amongst the group is the young lady of the fief, lady Linara Lé Dic. With her is her grandfather on her mother's side, lord Milburn. As well as the army commander sir Galmot, amongst others. At the back of the group walks sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who briefly looks in their direction before he continues down the road behind the others.
"What do you think of it Dorc?" asks Tamric Drubine as they look eastwards, the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, who is an expert at what's being done in the nearby field, just grunts in reply to Tam's question. A rather underwhelming grunt at that.
"No good?" adds the former heir to castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin "It's fucken fine" says Dorkindle who continues with "It'll fucken work" he momentarily pauses before adding in a sour tone "The first few times".
The two teenagers, glance at one another, then they look at the large ork from the southern polar region, and Lis asks him "Then what?". The ork warleader slaps his large hands together, then quickly pulls them apart and makes an explosive sound, and follows that up with a chuckle.
"You sure?" asks Tamric Drubine in a tone of concern, Dorc da Orc scowls as he looks at them, then he says in his deep, growling voice "Of course me fucken sure cunt" he waves a hand away to the field to the east, and adds "Me helped build heaps of them before, and after a few goes, that fucker there is gonna be fucked".
"Hell" mutters Lis "Have you told anyone?" asks Tam "Them cunts don't wanna listen to Dorc" sourly says the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks.
Both teens wince, as they know that for the most part that the inhabitants of castle Lé Dic and the town of Massic it's located behind. Don't really what anything to do with the large ork now that they know what he is. It doesn't help that sir Percavelle has actively encouraged the locals to shun the ork warleader, and have them ignore him.
"Well we better tell them" says the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin "I agree" adds the orphan teen from the city-state of Brattonbury who continues with "Before they end up killing a lot of themselves down there".
"Fucken let 'em" says Dorkindle who is of the opinion that when things go wrong, which it will in this instance. Those involved will get what they deserve, considering they ignored him when he mentioned the problem to those who were building it.
"We better go down there and warn them" says Tam, the large ork snorts and loudly mutters "Fuck 'em" the nobleborn teen says "Dorc!" in rebuke, which causes the warleader of the ork race to scowl, though look closely at the teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The ork weaponsmith grunts, then he shrugs his massive shoulders and gets up off the ground. He follows behind the two teens Tam and Lis, who are heading out of the practice yard. And are making their way to the road, which heads down to the field where the newly repaired trebuchet is located, and is about to be tested this morning.
As they reach the road, Lisell Maera looks back, and she spots Riley Hait the mercenary ranger and Shur Kee the monk crossing the drawbridge on this side of the castle.
The other member of the group here at castle Lé Dic, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, has gone out with a patrol. They left yesterday, to check on things further to the east in the fief. Near where it borders fief Harkonin to the east.
"Dorc have you told Riley about it?" asks Lisell Maera, who nods her head to the war machine sitting in the field they're making their way towards "Nah cunt" is the answer of the large ork as he follows behind the two teenagers.
Lis informs Tam that both Riley Hait and Shur Kee are heading this way too. The nobleborn teen looks back, and spots the two of them, amongst some of the other people who have left the castle, and are leaving the castle, to get a closer look at what's taking place in the nearby field.
"Wait up for them" quietly says Tamric Drubine in the elven language, who slows down so that the mercenary ranger and the physical adept can catch up to them.
They wait for the two who have just left the castle, and it's not long before the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen and the short, statured monk from beyond the Southlands catch up to the three of them.
When they do, Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera quickly inform the ranger Hait what the ork weaponsmith has informed them about the newly repaired trebuchet.
"Hell" mutters Riley Hait the mercenary ranger as they walk along the road to the field, he looks at the warleader of the ork race, and asks him "Dorc is this true?" he nods towards the war machine, and adds "About the trebuchet?".
"Yeah cunt" is the reply of Dorkindle, who truth be told, is looking forward to the trebuchet failing, so he can watch the number of people near it, die or get seriously injured when it shatters apart under the enormous strain and pressure it'll have to withstand. The big burly ork then explains what's exactly wrong with the trebuchet.
They get to the field, where Dorc da Orc remains at the edge of it, as the trebuchet has just had a test shot, without a load attached to it. Shur Kee remains beside the large ork after hearing the ork weaponsmith's explanation of what's likely to happen. The monk in the order of Bru Li thinks it's best to keep as far away from the war machine as possible.
As they stand at the edge of the field, Riley Hait and the teenagers, Lisell Maera and Tamric Drubine hurry forward to where the heavy war machine is located.
"Ha!" says Dorkindle, who then adds "Couple of shots with a cunt like that, and them fuckers there are all dead" and chuckles as a load of boulders in a net are attached to the arm of the trebuchet.
Shur Kee winces as they watch Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman quickly talking to sir Percavelle Lé Dic and others who have come down to the field to watch the newly repaired war machine be tested.
"See, it's s'posed to be fucken like that" says Dorkindle who holds up one large hand and his other at angle against it. They're directly in line to the side of the trebuchet, that's over a hundred yards away from them.
And the acolyte in the order of Bru Li can see the angle that the ork weaponsmith believes the swing arm of the war machine should be. And though it's only fractionally off, with the amount of pressure the trebuchet is under with the loads it flings away. It will definitely fly apart sooner rather than later because it isn't in perfect alignment at the correct angle.
The short statured monk from the far eastern coastal kingdom of Wah Lee knows that though the large ork is incredibly thick about most things, and quite deranged. When it comes to warfare, and the weapons and machines used in conflict, he's incredibly knowledgeable.
When ordinarily he doesn't know what day it is, he'd definitely know the weight and size of a load, from just a glance, at what a war machine is able to handle, even if it is in perfect working order.
Which the one further in the field they're looking at, isn't in at the moment.
"Looks like they are not listening to friend Riley" quietly says Shur Kee the monk, this causes Dorkindle to snort, then chuckle and murmur something in the incomprehensible language of the orks. Which Shur Kee correctly figures is derogatory about those the ranger Hait is talking to.
"Friend Dorc you must do something" quickly says the monk in the odd conical shaped hat "Dorc not your fucken friend cunt" mutters the ork warleader in his own language, he then adds in common "Nah monkey, them cunts won't listen to Dorc, me already fucken try, and they ignores me" the large ork shrugs then says "They dead soon".
A cheer goes up from the gathered crowd, those at the edge of the field, and those closer to the trebuchet, which the crew manning it, have just sent off a shot of boulders flying through the air.
"See" says Dorkindle, who then adds "That shit should've gones much longer than that" he continues with "They got the angle of the fucken arm all wrong".
Shur Kee grimaces, then says "Dorc, come along you must hurry" the living incarnation of the Jade Warrior Bru Li quickly adds "Look, young Tamric and Lisell are down there". Thinking quickly on his feet, the short statured monk says "Lord Farque would not appreciate it if any harm would come to them, or to friend Riley".
Shur Kee refrains from mentioning sir Percavelle Lé Dic, as he knows the large ork couldn't care less about the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che.
Dorkindle scowls at the physical adept, then he sourly mutters "Fucknuts" and adds "Oh alright" when Shur Kee tells him "Hurry Dorc, you must get these people away".
They set off quickly across the field, and the acolyte in the order of Bru Li who has known the large ork longer than anyone else here at castle Lé Dic, and knows what he's mostly likely to do, says to the ork weaponsmith from the southern polar region "Do not harm any of them friend Dorc".
The ork warleader sourly grunts as he was intending to draw some weapons, roar at everyone, then start attacking them if they didn't get away from the doomed trebuchet.
The large ork suddenly grins, then he chuckles as he comes up with another idea instead, which will be more effective to be honest.
They reach the group that the ranger Hait is desperately talking to. Dorkindle ignores them, and walks between them, causing people to hurry out of his way.
Once he's in the middle of them as they've spread out. And as more than a few, including sir Percavelle frown as they look at him, while a large boulder is dragged into position by a team of horses, to be attached to the rope and chain on the end of the arm of the trebuchet. Dorc da Orc drops his pants and proceeds to take a shit.
The large ork who normally takes a crap at least a few times a day, due to the vast amount of food and alcohol he consumes. Hasn't had a dump since yesterday morning.
And it shows, because he sprays shit everywhere out of his ass. Which causes people to flee. Well those who haven't already when he first pulled down his grubby knee length pants.
Dorkindle squats there chuckling to himself as people run away, as dark black, green shit squirts from his rear end.
"Aaaawww yeah that's good poos" murmurs the ork warleader as he looks back at the shit he's sprayed across the ground. The large ork, who is now by himself in this part of the field. Looks over at the trebuchet crew. Who have stopped what they're doing, and are staring at him in disbelief.
Not bothering to pull his pants up, Dorc da Orc reaches down and picks up a large handful of shit off the ground. He goes for the more solid looking stuff, as he'll need it for what he wants.
The ork weaponsmith laughs after he takes a bite of the shit he's grabbed, then throws the rest of it in the direction of the crew working on the war machine, who flee when the shit comes flying through the air towards them.
Pulling up his pants, Dorkindle walks away, taking one of his throwing axes from his weapon harness as he does so. The large ork heads to the edge of the field where most of the people who have remained, when the vast majority are quickly heading back up the road to the massive castle that's nearby.
Dorc stops, turns around and throws his axe, he turns back around, and continues on his way while his axe is still in mid air. The axe goes about fifty yards, and cuts through the release rope of the trebuchet.
The arm goes to swing, as the counterweight sets into motion the large boulder that's been attached to the war machine. It barely moves when the trebuchet shatters apart from the incredible strain that it's under as the load bearing arm was repaired and placed at the incorrect angle. And though that angle was only slight, that's all in needed to be, for the war machine to catastrophically fail. Killing anyone close to it. That's if there was actually anyone close to it, which there wasn't.
Stopping at the edge of the field, and looking at those who have remained, in particular sir Percavelle Lé Dic, Dorc da Orc says "See, told ya it wouldn't work ya cunts" before he continues on his way towards the road and back to the castle . . . . . .

The Homecoming 10.

A Castle...

In the main work yard, Tovis watches the workers put the second wheel into place on the base of the newest trebuchet that he's designed. Once it's fitted, he and the foreman, Bassark step forward to inspect the work.
They take their time doing so, and though the foreman is more than twice the age of the young engineer, he defers to the baron's war engineer.
The two of them quietly talk about minor adjustments that need to be made, but overall they're happy with the job that's been done this morning by their work crew.
After the foreman sets the workers new tasks, he and the young engineer stand to one side and watch what's going on in the yard, on what's a cold, but clear winter's morning.
"Better than i expected" quietly says Bassark, a lean man, with a weathered face, and sparse hair upon his head "That new axle, and the fitting teeth you've designed has made all the difference" adds the foreman.
"Won't make much of a difference if we don't get it completed in time" says Tovis the engineer "There is that" dryly says the foreman of the work yard where the war machines, and other contraptions are made for baron Harkonin.
The young engineer smiles, then says to the foreman "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll complete it in time" he continues with "It's winter, and we're ahead of schedule more so than during the end of summer, and in the autumn".
Bassark nods his head in agreement, as he knows this is all down to the new designs of the young engineer standing next to him. Some people think it's to do with the rites done by the dark druid Palvarc. Bassark, who is a believer in the old ways, thinks that's absolute nonsense.
He's seen how gifted young Tovis is, not to mention how hard working the war engineer is. Who inspires those who work for him, to do their best, and work hard for him.
The foreman is just about to mention something about this, when the young engineer quietly says "What's this then?". Bassark looks to where Tovis has turned to, and along the road coming up to the castle, they see a few riders approaching quickly.
It's sir Dontas, and a couple of his men. The knight who is popular with the common folk, enters the work yard, slows down when Tovis calls out to him with "My lord what is it?".
"An airship young engineer" says sir Dontas, who is only a couple of years older than the war engineer. The nobleborn knight, gestures to the castle and says "Approaching from the west" and he continues with "We're going to see what's it all about".
As the knight and his men continue on their way, Tovis and Bassark share a look, then the young war engineer says "Come on, let's see what's going on" the foreman nods in agreement.
Airships come to castle Harkonin all the time, though very rarely during the winter. And this ship is obviously from the capital Leeabra, as all airships coming from the west to the Harkonin fief are from the capital.
As they're the only ones from that way to be uninterrupted by the forces in the neighbouring fief to the west which they have to fly over.
The war engineer and his foreman, leave the work yard that's just outside the east wall of the castle, and they enter the home of the Harkonin family through the open east gates.
They hurry to the nearest tower where they see others making their way along the top of the wall to. Tovis and Bassark quickly climb the inner stairwell of the tower, and near the top, they stop at an archers slit that faces westwards. In the distance they spot an airship in the morning sky to the west.
As it approaches castle Harkonin, Bassark says "Looks like it'll probably put down in the fields just outside of town" the foreman then adds "You see what pennant it flies?".
"I'm not sure" replies Tovis as he squints to see whose airship it is. The answer is soon apparent to them, when someone up on top of the tower shouts down "It's a royal vessel!".
The young engineer and the foreman share a look, then Bassark murmurs "Hell" the two of them stare at the airship in the distance for another moment, then they hurry back down the stairwell to the bottom of the tower.
They exit the tower, and quickly make their way through the castle. Though castle Harkonin is no where near as large as castle Lé Dic is apparently supposed to be. It's still large enough, if you're not familiar with it, it's easy to get lost within the walls of the ancestral home of the Harkonin family.
Thankfully both Tovis and Bassark grew up in the town of Maliss, within the shadows of the large castle. And they've been in and out of it for most of their lives.
And though Bassark as the foreman of the work yard isn't allowed to go everywhere in the castle. Tovis as the war engineer to the baron himself, can go where he pleases with the exception of the private quarters of the Harkonin family, the strong rooms where the treasury is kept, and the dungeons below the castle.
A privileged freedom for a commoner who isn't a soldier in the army of the baron.
They take the quickest possible route to the west side of the large castle, going through the marshalling yard behind, or more precisely, on the north side of the central keep.
It's not long before they're at the west wall of castle Harkonin, and through the open gates. They like others from within the castle quickly make their way through the town of Maliss, which is situated predominantly to the west and south of the castle that's the ancestral home of the nobleborn family that rules the fief that's named after them.
The two from the work yard join up with a handful of soldiers they know, who are also going to check on the airship, that they can see now, flies the royal pennant as it nears the west side of the town of Maliss.
And as they pass the carpenters that, whose apprentice is married to the younger sister of Tovis. They spot the twin masted airship dropping down towards a field just to the east of town.
The two from the work yard follow the soldiers out of town, and along with others head towards where a number of people have gathered as the airship settles down towards the ground.
Amongst that group, Tovis spots the baron himself, along with a few of his councillors. Though the dark druid Palvarc isn't with them. Also with them are senior members of the baron's army, including sir Dontas.
Tovis is technically a member of the senior leadership of the army. But he doesn't like to intrude, since he's the only commoner amongst them.
And when Bassark quietly mentions that he should join the other military leaders, and that he should bring him along, since as the foreman of the work yard, he's his second.
Tovis at first declines, until the soldiers they're with, urge him to go ahead, and find out what's going on. And to come back and tell them once he does.
So reluctantly the young engineer moves forward, followed closely by Bassark who is eager to see why the royal airship from the capital has shown up, when in winter they hardly get any airships visiting the Harkonin fief.
After leaving the crowd that's gathering on the edge of the field, Tovis along with Bassark make their way forward. A few of baron Harkonin's personal guards glance their way, but no one stops them as they join the back of the group that's near the middle of the field where the airship has put down.
The baron and a few others move forward as a number of people disembark, after a while sir Dontas goes forward and joins them.
As they do, one of the noblemen who has remained behind with the rest of the group, quietly says "Hmmm i think i know that palace official" he nods to an individual in a dark blue, robe like cloak that's come off the twin masted vessel that's being tied down, and adds "Think he works in his majesty's mews"
The pair from the work yard glance at one another, and wonder why one of the king's creature keepers has come out to the eastern most fief in the kingdom.
Those in the group to one side remain silent as the lord of the fief and those with him, chat with those from the capital. They occasionally hear a chuckle or laugh from those close to the airship. But they don't exactly hear what's being said.
Tovis looks around, and at the edge of the field, amongst the crowd he spots a few goblins from in town, and a pair of dwarves. He figures they're all listening to the conversation of those near the ship, even though they're further away.
The young war engineer along with Bassark, and the rest in the group, watch as the A frame hoist, is swung around onboard, so that it's arm must be over one of the cargo holds that has been opened.
Tovis who has seen a shipboard crane and lift a number of times before. Would like to get a closer look at the one on the royal vessel infront of him. It looks like a superior design in comparison to the one's he has seen previously.
As he's watching, sir Dontas walks back to the waiting group, the local nobleman, who is also an ordered knight, belonging to the order of Althilgah. Is grinning as he makes his way back to the group.
"What is it Dontas?" asks the lord of the long reaches, a stretch of land in the east of the fief, right on the border of the kingdom.
"You're not going to believe this" says sir Dontas who takes the reins of his horse from one of his men, holding on tightly to the reins, and after telling the others with mounts to do the same, the ordered knight adds "Someone at court has decided to give the baron a gift".
"What's that?" murmurs Bassark the foreman to Tovis as they see something that's on a sling, is being lifted out of the forward cargo hold of the airship that's part of the royal fleet.
It's the nobleman, Sarvaine the lord of the long reaches, who immediately recognises what it is. "Fuck me, that's a cockatrice!" exclaims lord Sarvaine who covers his eyes and looks down at the ground.
Tovis grimaces, and though he's heard about them, he's never seen a cockatrice, he knows what they're capable of, or he thinks he does.
As the young engineer looks down at the ground and covers his eyes, and beside him, Bassark does the same thing.
The knight sir Dontas chuckles, then says "It's fine, you don't have to cover your eyes" the knight in the order of Althilgah continues with "They've got their blinders on".
"They?" asks the lord of the long reaches "There's more than one onboard" replies the nobleborn knight.
Someone loudly mutters "Bloody hell" and Tovis, along with Bassark, can't help but agree with him.
The young war engineer, looks up and watches as the cockatrice, which resembles a long, legged chicken in his opinion. Though it's over eight foot tall, and has an elongated neck.
He sees the leather flaps over it's head, covering it's eyes as it's completely docile in the sling that swings it out, and over the starboard rail of the twin masted airship.
Someone in the group voices what Tovis is thinking, and says "Do they really turn you to stone if you make eye contact with them?".
"No, that's a basilisk" says sir Dontas, who continues with "A cockatrice has the power of paralysis" the ordered knight adds "They'll freeze you to the spot, so that you'll become a stationary target" he says "If that happens you better hope someone comes along and slaps you silly or pours a bucket of ice water over you to shock you out of the paralysis. If not, you're dead for sure, for those claws can go through plate, and turn lesser armour to shreds".
"Damn" murmurs Bassark next to Tovis as they watch the cockatrice being lowered to the ground. Tovis can only nod in agreement as they watch the naturally magical creature touch the ground, and one of it's keepers who has traveled with it, walk over and check on it.
"Practiced against them during my trails" explains sir Dontas, the trials as in his knightly trials, which he took when he was an apprentice knight in the order of Althilgah.
"How do you defeat one in battle?" asks Tovis, who is slightly surprised that he spoke up, so are others, as they glance at him, before they look to sir Dontas for an answer.
"Hit them before they've got their blinders off, they're pretty docile with them on as you can see" says the nobleborn knight, who continues with "If not, get extremely lucky and hope your archers and crossbowmen hit it with a lot of arrows and bolts" he then adds "And even then you'll have to do something fairly stupid to kill it, like charge it on horseback, hitting it with a lance, all the while not actually looking at it".
Sir Dontas looks over at young Tovis, and says "Or you could stand a few hundred yards off, and hit it with something from one of your war machines young engineer, personally that's what i would do".
Tovis the war engineer to baron Harkonin nods in agreement as they watch the second cockatrice being offloaded from the airship, while the first one starts wandering around behind it's keeper who now has it on a lead . . . . . .

The Homecoming 9.

A Stone Circle...

He looks across the circle to the lift and hoist that he helped build. He along with the others watch the crew of eight men use it to manoeuvre the last standing stone to one side. He's proud of the work he's done, who wouldn't be? But he's not especially proud of what it what his work is being used for. Even though he had a feeling before the job started, that it might be used in such a way.
In the fading light of dusk, and as a cold wind whips across the hilltop they're on. A trio of the baron's soldiers drag a bound and gagged figure forward.
He doesn't know who the individual is. Probably someone from the east of the fief, on the border of the kingdom. Or they could be from the west, near the fief of Lé Dic. He wouldn't be surprised if the poor soul is actually from the fief to the west.
He just knows the person isn't from the nearby town and villages, or farms.
The soldiers with their captive stop at the last hole that's been dug into the ground. They stand just a few yards back from it and wait.
They, along with everyone else upon the hilltop don't have to wait long. As up the path that winds up the hill, comes the baron and his routine. With them is the druid and his apprentice.
"The dark druid gets his way Tovis" says a quiet voice behind him, he turns and looks at his father Mallick, who then quietly adds "I mean druid".
Tovis the young engineer slightly nods, and though they're at the back of the crowd on this side of the circle, he gives a look to his father to remind him to be silent.
For once his father Mallick does so, much to the relief of the young engineer, who didn't want to be here this evening. But he has to be, since he's the war engineer to the baron, even though he's not yet twenty years old.
Tovis takes a step back to stand beside his father, who like himself is an engineer. Though his father is a drunk, he's not to be trusted to build war machines for the baron. Tovis is just glad he's sober tonight as they stand upon the wind whipped hilltop.
Both father and son are relatively tall, standing about six feet in height.
They can see over most of those gathered, to look at what's happening on the otherside of the stone circle.
The lord of the most easterly fief in the kingdom of Druvic looks around at the sixty or so people gathered upon the hilltop. He's silent for a few moments, then he speaks.
"We have gathered here this early evening this winter's day to preform this ancient ceremony of the land, to help us in our future endeavours against our enemy to the west" says baron Harkonin, the nobleman who is a rather rotund individual, with a perpetual sneer upon his face, that's even more pronounced when he smiles, continues with "That bitch child and her lackeys to the west have their eyes on my family's fief, they will not have it, this ceremony this evening will ensure they'll not get their way, and I'll get mine".
The baron looks over at the figure in the black robes and hood to his right, and nods to him. The dark druid slightly bows to the nobleman.
And though those on the hilltop see the baron's spellcaster being subservient to him. Tovis can't help but think that the bow performed by the dark druid was nothing but mocking.
The dark druid, looks over at his apprentice, who along with a pair of soldiers, have set up a standing brazier. The apprentice has lit the coals in it, and nods to his master once the flames start to burn the coals evenly.
The dark druid, a man who came out of the forest in the south of the fief about a decade ago, a couple of years before the civil war erupted across the kingdom. A man who deposed the former druid who was a councillor to baron Harkonin's father.
Looks over at the bound and gagged captive, being held by a trio of soldiers. The dark druid steps over to them and from beneath his robes, he takes out a curved blade. In the light of the torches that have been lit, Tovis sees that the blade is black, not from the type of metal it is, but from blood that the dagger has spilt over countless years.
The dark druid nods for the soldiers to hold the captive still, then the spellcaster holds up his blade, and closes his eyes and looks upwards. He starts speaking in a language that nobody upon the hilltop, apart from himself and his apprentice understands.
After he intones in that language for a while, the dark druid looks back down, and opens his eyes. Then he briefly speaks in the common language.
"May this sacrifice bring his lordship all that he desires, and that his people and their works help bring this about" says Palvarc the druid, who then looks around at the gathered crowd, and looks at those individuals who are most vital to the success of baron Harkonin's plans.
Amongst the councillors, guard captains and others that the dark druid looks at from beneath his hood.
He looks at the young engineer Tovis who stands on the opposite side of the circle. The young engineer feels a slight chill, and not from the cold wind either, when the dark druid's gaze briefly settles upon him before moving on.
Then Palvarc, quickly and efficiently, slices off the left ear of the bound prisoner, who screams are muffled by the cloth that's been waded up into his mouth. The dark druid hands the ear to his apprentice, who drops it into the coals of the brazier.
Palvarc nods to his apprentice, who takes a short iron rod from his belt, and puts it into the burning coals, he leaves it there for a few moments, then taking it out by the hard wood handle, he gives it to the dark druid.
Palvarc has a quiet word with the soldiers, one of whom nods, and tightly holds the head of the prisoner who is on his knees.
Then the man, who is the senior councillor of baron Harkonin, pushes the point of the hot iron rod, into the right eye of the bound captive.
On the otherside of the circle, Tovis is just glad he can't smell the burning flesh and eyeball of the poor soul who the dark druid is using for his ritual. The young engineer watches as the apprentice to Palvarc takes the iron rod, that has shriveled up eyeball on the end of it, and puts it into the burning coals of the brazier.
The apprentice then hands his master a set of pincers. The dark druid quietly says something to the soldiers holding the prisoner, who has blood running down the side of head, and a burnt out right eye socket.
The gag is taken out of the captives mouth, and as one of the guard holds his jaw open as he briefly screams. Palvarc takes the pincers, and uses them to grab the tongue of the bound captive.
The dark druid pulls the tongue, and with his blade in his other hand, he cuts out the tongue of the prisoner.
As the soldiers shove the captive onto his side, Palvarc hands the tongue to his apprentice, who tosses it onto the burning coals. Then he takes back the pincers from his master, and the two of them briefly intone something that nobody else on the hilltop understands.
The dark druid then nods to the trio of soldiers standing over the mutilated captive. They pick him up, and in the light of the torches, those on the hilltop watch the three of them drag the prisoner forward, pstand him up, and push him down into the hole that's been dug into the ground.
The druid Palvarc looks over at the crew at the lift and hoist, he nods to them and orders "Set the stone".
The stone, about nine feet high, and a couple thousand pounds in weight, is lifted up and swung to one side, so that it's over the hole in the ground.
"Our ways are the old ways" says the dark druid "Our ways are the old ways" repeat the gathered crowd upon the hilltop. Tovis can't help but slightly shake his head at the way in which Palvarc uses the traditional druidic saying in his dark rites,
Then the druid who is the councillor to the baron of fief Harkonin, nods to the crew operating the lift and hoist that the young engineer Tovis help build.
They let go of the rope, and the stone, the last to form the twelve in the circle upon the hilltop, drops into the three foot deep hole. Crushing the bound and mutilated captive in the hole to death.
Tovis who is glad the prisoner's tongue was cut out so that he couldn't hear him screaming. Is relieved that the poor soul who was picked for the dark druid's rites. Was put out of his misery so quickly, and didn't suffer a prolonged death.
Which he's heard is often the case in some of the sacrificial rites of the dark one's who follow their own path in the druidic ways.
"May this rite give you all that you seek baron" says Palvarc to the nobleman he's the head councillor to, the dark druid continues with "May the lands, and this one's lifeblood, bring about the things you most want".
"I hope so my friend" says the baron of the fief who has no qualms about sacrificing an innocent in the rites of the dark druid, if it will get him what he wishes. He looks around at the now completed circle, and knows that twelve innocent people, were put to death over the past year and a half as the stone circle was completed.
Baron Harkonin nods, and his head councillor bows to him. Which again Tovis sees as mocking, while the others in the gathered crowd see as subservient. The young war engineer to the baron can't help but think that the dark druid is getting more out of his rites that have gone into making the stone circle, than what the nobleman is getting out of it.
The young engineer glances at his father Mallick, who mutters "Old ways indeed" as he snorts in derision as the crowd breaks up as the baron orders everyone down off the hill now the rites have come to an end.
Tovis nods his head in agreement with his father, for they like a lot of people in the Harkonin fief. And for that matter, here in the very east of the kingdom of Druvic. Still adhere to the old druidic ways, more than any belief in the gods of Volunell.
Though the ways of the dark druids, and their dark rites, many of which are sacrificial, more often than not, human sacrifice. Is abhorrent to them and their beliefs.
But since the baron, and many others in his court, have taken up the belief of the dark druids and their ways. The common people, those that believe in the old ways, and those that do not. Go along with what the lord of for fief believes in.
Tovis and his father are at the back of those going down the path, and as they follow behind a couple, local farmers, one of whom is carrying a burning torch. The young engineer glances back up to the hilltop, and sees that the dark wizard and his apprentice have remained.
Tovis can only imagine what else they're going to do within the newly completed stone circle on the top of the hill. None of it pleasant if the rumours are true.
The young war engineer looks infront again when his father murmurs to him "No good looking back up at that evil pair son". Tovis can definitely agree with his father about that as they head downhill, and head back home.
Which thankfully in the opinion of the young engineer, isn't in the nearby village that the hill looks over. But is in the town of Maliss, about five miles away. Where castle Harkonin is located.
And as the baron and his routine get onto their horses, or into their carriages to return to the castle. Tovis, his father and others who live in Maliss, have a long, cold walk back to town this night.
The next morning, and Tovis wakes up late, enjoying the extra time in bed since it's seventh day, and he doesn't have to work.
He eventually gets up, and peeks through his window shutters in the second floor that is his in the family home . The young engineer sees that it's lightly snowing outside this morning. Glad it didn't snow last night when they were walking back to Maliss, it was cold enough then, snow would of just made it worse.
Tovis heads downstairs after he dresses and washes up. Only his father and himself live in the family house now.
His younger sister, who just turned seventeen in the autumn, married a carpenters son not long after her nameday. She moved out then, and moved in with her husband's family across town.
Their mother, Mallick's wife died five years earlier in an accident. An accident caused by the older engineer, the accident that's turned him into a drunk.
As he gets himself breakfast, Tovis sees that one of the beer jugs is missing from the larder. He figures his father will be outside, across the courtyard, behind the workshop, sitting under the overhang there, already getting drunk.
After eating, then quickly washing up, Tovis exits the kitchen out through the backdoor, after he puts a couple of logs in the fireplace. He crosses the courtyard to the workshop, as he does, he looks left to castle Harkonin, which isn't all that far away from his family's home.
The young war engineer works there even more than he does in the family workshop he's making his way to.
As he's about to open the door to enter the workshop, he calls out "Father?". He hears a familiar grunt, and a familiar "Yeah" from the otherside of the workshop.
Tovis nods, then enters the workshop, glad to see that his father has lit the two braziers inside, that keeps the chill out of the air.
The young war engineer stops at his work bench, and looks down at the models he's been working on. He picks up the newest one, it's a miniature scaled trebuchet.
"Now how can i make you better?" Tovis murmurs to himself as he studies the model he's made, which is being duplicated in full size, nearby within the workshops in castle Harkonin . . . . . .

The Homecoming 8.

A Castle...

Castle Lé Dic is a massive warren of keeps, towers, buildings and courtyards. That after two days here, Tamric Drubine who grew up in a large castle himself. Has only a basic idea of where things are.
He definitely knows the main keep, you can't miss it. And he knows the tower that he and the rest of the group are staying in. And he also knows the four main courtyards and the buildings off them.
Everything else is anyone's guess, and he only has a faint idea of what they are, and where they are. So this morning, like yesterday morning, after he breakfasts he exits the kitchens off the tower his room is in, and he goes off exploring.
The nobleborn teenager is the last of the group to have breakfast. And as he crosses the courtyard outside the tower on this chilly morning. He looks up at the east wall of the castle. There he sees Shur Kee the monk kneeling upon a mat on the top of the wall.
The acolyte in the order of Bru Li is meditating as he often does in the morning. A couple of soldiers on duty on top of the wall, stand about fifty feet from the kneeling monk, wondering what the hell he's doing.
The son of the former heir to castle Drubine slightly shakes his head, as he can only imagine what a lot of the residents within the castle think of the group who have come here with sir Percavelle Lé Dic. They must think them odd, especially some of them like Shur Kee, and definitely Dorc da Orc, the oddest one of them all.
Tam walks into a garden, and stops for a moment as he could swear this garden is on the opposite side of the castle. He quickly realises that it's a mirror of the garden on the west side of the massive castle.
At least it isn't a hedge garden like the one in the north of the castle. The nobleborn teen spent the better part of yesterday afternoon getting lost in that particular garden. Something he doesn't want to experience again anytime soon.
Tamric Drubine as he goes through an arched walkway, smiles at a couple of young house maids who go by him, saying "M'lord" in greeting.
Word has spread that he is nobleborn, that means something here in the Lé Dic fief, and in the wider kingdom of Druvic. It doesn't matter that he's from a completely different kingdom nearly six hundred miles to the east. It still matters to the people of Druvic. In particular the local peerage, or nobility.
Tam looks back at the two maids who are only a year or two older than himself. Their heads are together, and they're giggling about something as they quickly glance back at him for a moment.
He's still young enough to be self conscious about others talking about him, especially those of a similar age, of the opposite sex. And though he's slightly embarrassed, he's not afraid to admit he rather likes the attention.
And as he makes his way out of the walkway, and enters another courtyard, he's grinning at the attention he got from the two servants.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin eventually makes his way into another courtyard, this one near the largest one in the south of the castle. The courtyard is a hive of activity, as most of the smithy's and workshops in castle Lé Dic are located here.
Tam looks over at a catapult in one corner of the courtyard, and the base and A frame of a trebuchet that is next to it. The arm and counterweight of the massive war machine is missing, presumably they're either being made or fixed in one, or some of the many workshops that are dotted around this courtyard.
The son of the former knight of castle Drubine crosses the yard when he spots someone. After all you can't miss him, as he's taller, larger and greener than anyone else in the castle.
Tamric Drubine makes his way over to Dorc da Orc who is standing at the open door to a smithy that he's looking into. Tam knows the large ork doesn't hold people and the jobs they do in much respect. But he does respect blacksmiths, armourers, and weapon makers.
The nobleborn teen can recall lord Farque telling him once, that the smith within the tribe of orks is often the most revered person. More so than their elders, or even the matriarch, the she ork who leads the tribe.
Tam who still can't believe it's a female of the species that leads the various tribes of the brutal race. Nods his head in greeting to the soldiers and workers he passes who say "Morning m'lord" to him as he walks over to where the warleader of the ork race is standing.
"Dorc" says Tamric Drubine by way of greeting as he joins the ork weaponsmith, the exile from the Ork Range at the bottom of the world just grunts in reply as he continues to watch what's happening in the smithy.
"Any good?" quietly asks Tam as he too looks through the open door, where the blacksmith inside, is cold hammering iron stock, while his apprentice is bringing in coal from behind the smithy in a barrow, to build up the fire in the forge.
"Yep" replies Dorc da Orc who continues with "Pretty fucken good for a human" the large ork then adds "Best one here by far". Then the big, hulking ork nods his head for the nobleborn teenager to follow him.
And the two of them go through the open door next to the smithy. Tam sees that it's the workshop, or precisely the finishing shop of the smithy next door.
The teen from the kingdom of Sarcrin, who is fair judge of weapons. Sees that the weapons on the stands and racks in the finishing shop are of above average quality, something you wouldn't normally find produced in castle forges and smithy's.
They're more akin to what you would find in the shop of a master weapons maker in one of the larger cities throughout the Southlands, let alone here in the kingdom of Druvic.
"No wonder that knight cunt has always had good shit" loudly mutters Dorkindle, who though he despises his former foe sir Percavelle Lé Dic. He must admit the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che has always had excellent quality weapons and armour. Which can't be said for a lot of knights, wether they been a nobleborn or not.
"Speaking of Percy" says Tamric Drubine, who then asks "Where is he this morning?". With a sour sounding grunt, the ork warleader waves a large hand to one side, and says "Cross the fucken yard".
The nobleborn teenager nods his head, and makes his way out of the shop. After a final look at the variety of good quality weapons in the finishing shop, Dorc da Orc makes his way outside too.
And after a last look into the smithy next door, he heads after Tamric Drubine who is walking to the west side of the busy courtyard, to a pair of massive wooden doors that are open to the largest workshop in the entire castle.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic can be seen inside it amongst the large number of people there. Not all of whom are craftsmen, smiths, apprentices, workers and helpers.
The former heir to the knight of castle Drubine in northern Sarcrin enters the massive workshop, he's soon followed by Dorkindle, who is glad the double doors are so massive, as he doesn't have to duck down as he does a lot of the time as he goes through doorways. Infact the massive doors to the workshop are over twenty feet high, almost three times his considerable seven foot, six inches in height.
Tam, who makes sure to keep out of the way of those working, makes his way over to where the former earl of Lé Dic is. The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, who is out of his armour at the moment, and is wearing the rich clothes that's been in storage here in castle Lé Dic ever since he left.
Is with a group of people, many of them nobles. Including knights, one of whom, is sir Galmot, the commander of the Lé Dic army. As well as lord Milburn, the father of lady Linara's mother.
Also with them is the highest ranking commoner in the fief, constable Kalleb. The position of constable is usually given to one of the nobility. But the last earl of Lé Dic, sir Percavelle's brother Maxiss Lé Dic. Assigned that position to Kalleb, a commoner who had worked his way up to being a senior officer in the army of the fief.
Along with them are a couple of engineers, who are explaining how repair work is going on the trebuchet that's outside. As well the new ones that are being built. To go along with the already large number of war machines that have been produced over the autumn, and now winter.
The former earl of Lé Dic spots Tam, and he steps away from the group he's with, and walks over to the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, ignores Dorc da Orc who is wandering around looking at all the work that's being done in the large workshop.
"They're definitely building up for a war aren't they" says Tamric Drubine after he greets the former earl of Lé Dic "That they are" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who can't help but speak with pride with what's being done, not just here in the workshops in the castle. But also in the town of Massic just outside the castle, as well as elsewhere throughout the fief.
"So it's inevitable then?" asks Tam, who though just fifteen years old, is nearly six foot tall "War with this baron?". "Indeed" says the former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che, who then adds "Tis been in the plans since the summer before last when that Harkonin villain and his men killed my brother Maxiss in a border dispute".
The son of the former knight of castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin nods his head, then in a quiet voice, barely more than a whisper, he tells sir Percavelle "No one better find out about that run in we had with that constable of the earl of Gallus, and his men" the nobleborn teenager continues with "Or your fief will end up in another conflict with one of it's neighbours".
Sir Percavelle, who even out of his heavy plate armour, is a large figure, standing a couple inches over six foot, winces at what Tam just said, then he says "Quite" followed by "We do not want that to become common knowledge".
The teen from the kingdom of Sarcrin, a feudal kingdom, unlike Druvic, which doesn't have serfs as the kingdom that Tam comes from does, then says "Have you asked them?".
The nobleborn teenager, who has nodded towards the group that the former earl of Lé Dic was just talking to, adds "The engineers?" followed by "They're in the same line of work he's in".
Sir Percavelle blinks as he wonders what Tam is referring to, then he remembers what their main purpose for coming to the kingdom of Druvic is, then he says "Ah yes i have" the former paladin of the first rank continues with "They have not heard of the chap we seek" he then muses "Which is a little odd, skilled war engineers such as him, aren't exactly common, even here in Druvic".
Tamric Drubine nods in agreement with the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, then he's about to ask Percy something, when he sees the former earl of Lé Dic, look over at a side door, to where someone has just entered the workshop.
Tam sees it's the woman who was on the drawbridge with the welcoming party when they arrived. Lady Hollis, a widow in her mid thirties who is the chaperone and governess of lady Linara, now that the mother of the young ruler of the fief is in retirement.
Infact the widow of Maxiss Lé Dic is locked up in a tower here in the castle. As she's been driven mad ever since her husband was killed. She's in no fit state to care for, and raise her daughter. So the governess Hollis is the main caregiver to the young lady of Lé Dic.
One of the two pages who has entered the workshop with lady Hollis makes his way over to the former earl of Lé Dic, and after bowing and saying "M'lords" to both nobles, one from the kingdom of Sarcrin, and the other from this very fief here in Druvic, he says "Sir Percavelle, the lady Hollis wishes to inform you that lady Linara would like to have a word with you".
"Of course" says the former earl of Lé Dic, that page nods and hurries back to where the noblewoman waits near the side door out of the way.
Tam follows after sir Percavelle who tells the group that he was talking to, that he will return later. The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin, notices that a few of the nobles in the group, watch their former earl closely as he walks over to the lady Hollis. In particular lord Milburn, the grandfather on the maternal side, of lady Linara.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin who doesn't particularly like the look in the eyes of lord Milburn as he watches Percy, who greets lady Hollis. Looks around and spots Dorkindle eyeing up a cup of catapult that's being worked on.
"Dorc!" calls out Tam, the large ork grunts, then ambles over to where the son of the former knight of castle Drubine is. The ork warleader who always takes the direct route anywhere, for the simple reason he's lazy and can't be fucked going around things and people.
Walks straight towards Tamric Drubine, who briefly grins as Dorkindle scatters the group of people that sir Percavelle was talking to previously. The nobles, constable and the two engineers, move quickly to get out of the way of the ork weaponsmith.
Who having learnt that he's an ork, and apparently isn't dangerous to them, so they've been informed. He's still an ork! And no one wants to find out if the tales and fables about the rare race from the southern polar region of the world are true.
"What cunt?" asks Dorkindle as he joins the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin "Come along" says Tam who goes out the side door. The large ork grunts and exits the workshop too.
Tamric Drubine spots sir Percavelle Lé Dic further along the wide hallway they're in. He's followed by the pair of pages, as he walks side by side with lady Hollis, who he's quietly talking to. The lady Hollis, his sister inlaw. Well no longer, since he's been divorced from his wife for more than twenty years.
"Where we going cunt?" asks Dorc da Orc as he walks behind the nobleborn teenager, Tamric Drubine doesn't answer as he continues to follow after sir Percavelle Lé Dic and the lady Hollis . . . . . .

The Homecoming 7.

A Town...

"Percavelle! Percavelle! Percavelle!" repeatedly chants the gathered crowd on the streets of the town as they make their way through it. Word of their arrival from the village they stayed at last night, has gone ahead of them.
And it seems the entire town of Massic, as well as the surrounding settlements, not to mention castle Lé Dic that's behind the town. Have come out in force to greet them, even though the day is cold, and there's flakes of snow swirling in the air this morning.
Astride a horse that was given to him in the village they stayed at last night. Rides sir Percavelle Lé Dic, smiling and beaming at the adoration directed at him by the common people in his family's fief.
The others who are on foot, following by him, are all but ignored. With the exception of the hulking form of Dorc da Orc. Who illicits screams of fright, and many a stare as he scowls in annoyance at the amount of attention that the heavily armoured knight upon the horse is getting.
As for the rest of the group, they're just waiting to see what kind of reception they're going to get when they actually reach the castle itself. Which like all such structures in the kingdom of Druvic, is overly large, with high walls, and a considerable amount of towers and broach towers within it.
From what sir Percavelle has told them about his ancestral home, that there's just as many people living and working in there as there is in the town that sits infront of it.
As the gathered folk continue to chant their former earl's name over and over again. Riley Hait the mercenary ranger looks over at Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy.
The ranger Hait nods his head in response to the spy Tanith lifting an arched eyebrow.
They knew somewhat what kind of welcome the former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che was going to get here in his home town. After all the people in the two villages they went through yesterday, were absolutely delighted to see sir Percavelle.
But they weren't expecting such a rapturous welcome to him here in Massic. It seems the former earl of the Lé Dic fief. Is more popular than they would of thought.
Though this welcome is predominantly from the common people, the peasantry. Townsmen, farmers as well as woodsmen from the nearby forests. Who have always adored the nobleborn knight who has won many a tourney, and grande melee in the name of fief Lé Dic.
Even though he's a loud mouth braggart, who talks down to those who even like him. Though this doesn't seem to upset the common people as much as it does others.
Such as the nobility of the fief, and in the wider kingdom of Druvic. None of whom they've seen yet, though that's about to change as they near the large castle.
As they head through the town, more soldiers in the Lé Dic army can be seen. And though none of them are actively cheering like the gathered crowd are. They're definitely showing an interest at seeing their former commander and lord.
The older more experienced one's have fought side by side with the heavily armoured knight riding upon the horse at the front of the small group that's heading to the castle behind the town.
And though they know how annoying, and irritating their former earl can be in battle. They also know how much of an absolute terror he can be in combat. And that's something they can respect.
As they get to the eastern edge of town, behind which is the towering castle that's been the home for the Lé Dic family for centuries.
The crowds that are pressed close, so that they can reach out and touch the passing knight and his horse, start to part.
As the people move back, Riley Hait the mercenary ranger who has looked around sir Percavelle and the horse he's on, says in the elven language "Looks like we've got a welcoming committee". "Looks like it" says Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy in the same language as they see the main gates of the castle are open, and on the otherside of the drawbridge, a number of people are standing there and waiting.
Behind the mercenary ranger from the principality of Envadarlen, and the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae. Lisell Maera says to Tamric Drubine in the elven language "You grew up in place like this?" as she nods towards the castle they're walking towards.
"Hardly" says Tamric Drubine, also in elven "For starters my family's castle doesn't have a moat" adds the son of the former knight of castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin, who then says "And that is absolutely fucking massive compared to my family's one".
The nobleborn teenager will freely admit that his own ancestral home is a large castle. But castle Lé Dic is an absolute monstrosity compared to castle Drubine.
Behind the two teenagers, Shur Kee the monk walks in silence as he follows them, while the gathered crowd parts for the heavily armoured knight upon the horse at the front of the group.
Meanwhile at the back of the group, the scowling Dorc da Orc, who is eyeing up the massive castle they're approaching. Is already thinking up of ways of how he would attack the castle and breach it's walls.
The ork warleader who has attacked many a castle in his time. Can already see spots that he would attack with siege equipment. The large ork knows that no matter how thick or high a castle's, or for that matter, a city's walls are.
They can be breached, or brought down by a determined attacker who has the skill and knowledge to do so, such as himself. The ork weaponsmith briefly smiles as imagines knocking down the walls of castle Lé Dic. Then he goes back to scowling as the gathered crowds chat sir Percavelle's name even louder as they get to the castle.
The heavily armoured knight brings the horse he's on to a stop, and the crowd of people who have followed him and the others through the town of Massic. Chant his name even louder until they finally stop, almost in unison when he holds up a gauntleted hand.
The former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che dismounts, and he gestures to a boy in the crowd to take his horse. The youngster hurries over, absolutely delighted to take the reins of the horse from the great sir Percavelle he's heard so much about.
The heavily armoured knight, who has his helm tucked under an arm, quickly glances back at the others. The ranger Hait nods to him, then the former earl of the fief faces forward towards the castle that he was born in, and he walks forward. The rest of the group, follow behind him, keeping a bit of distance between themselves and sir Percavelle. While the gathered crowd of commoners who have followed them through the town, remain where they are as they watch their former lord walk towards castle Lé Dic.
The nobleborn knight stops just before the drawbridge, where a pair of soldiers stand to either side of it. He vaguely recognises one of the soldiers, and nods his head to the man. The usually boisterous, not to mention loud knight, is silent as he stands there and waits.
Behind him, a dozen yards or so back, the rest of the group wait. Including Dorc da Orc, who was going to march forward and enter the castle first, until Riley Hait hissed at him to stay where he is, and if not, he'd tell lord Farque when he turns up, who'd most likely throw Dorkindle in the moat if he didn't comply.
As the large ork scowls at the mercenary ranger, as well as the former paladin, and at the moat, which he keeps a wary eye on.
The group just on the otherside of the drawbridge through the open gates, start making their way across.
The group from the castle consists of a number of men, of varying ages, most of whom are armed and armoured. There's one woman with them, as well as a young girl. It's the young girl, who is wearing a fur lined cloak, who is leading the way across the drawbridge.
The former earl of Lé Dic recognise some of those crossing the drawbridge, as they were members of his own court at one time. But others he does not know. After all it's been over eight years since he was last here at castle Drubine.
The nobleman who once ruled his family's fief, looks at the young girl leading the way across the drawbridge. He hasn't seen her since she was a toddler, now she's a girl of about nine years old.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic immediately recognises the haughty, and frankly stubborn look upon the face of the young girl. It's almost the mirror image of the one plastered on his face at the moment. The heavily armoured knight briefly smiles at the similarity, then his usual expression comes upon his face, as the young girl comes to a stop at the edge of the drawbridge, just a few yards from the former earl of Lé Dic. The others from within the castle, come to a stop further back from her, and watch on in silence, like everyone else is.
They're all watching the heavily armoured knight and the young girl facing him. Well everyone with the exception of Dorc da Orc, who is more focused upon the water in the moat than anything else, and couldn't care less about the two standing opposite one another at this end of the drawbridge.
After what seems a long stretch of silence, sir Percavelle Lé Dic finally nods his head, and says "Niece". "Uncle" replies the young girl standing opposite the nobleborn knight "It's to good to see you Linara" says the former earl of Lé Dic "And you too uncle Percavelle" says lady Linara Lé Dic, who can't actually remember her uncle, as she was just over a year old when he was last here in castle Lé Dic.
The young girl steps forward, then quietly says "Come to reclaim your fief have you?". "Not in the least" replies sir Percavelle, who has also stepped forward, and speaks quietly, something of a rarity for him.
"That is good" says the lady of Lé Dic, who continues with "I would not liked to of gone to war with you uncle, i do not think the shade of my father would of approve of it". "I agree, my brother would not of liked that" says the heavily armoured knight.
The young girl holds up her arms and quietly says to her uncle "Quick hug me uncle, it would appease those watching". The normally obtuse sir Percavelle can see the logic to that, so he he bends down and hugs his niece, the only member of his immediate family who is still alive. Apart from his ex wife, who he tries not to think about.
The uncle and niece briefly close their eyes at the same time, then they open them as a loud cheer erupts from the gathered crowd between the town of Massic and the castle. Though there's nothing of the sort from those on the drawbridge behind the lady of Lé Dic, there are nods of approval from some of them, in particular the lone woman in the group.
As the crowd of commoners start chanting again, this time repeatedly calling out "Lé Dic!". The lady of the fief says to the former earl before they let go of one another "It's Linny uncle, I'm not overly fond of Linara". "Of course Linny" says the former earl of Lé Dic, who as he lets go of his niece, adds "And you may call me Percy".
She nods to that, then as the gathered crowd of commoners continue to chant their family name, the lady Lé Dic looks around her uncle then asks "Who are these with you?". "My traveling companions" replies sir Percavelle Lé Dic "And that?" asks Linara Lé Dic who stares at the hulking form of Dorc da Orc who is scowling down at the water in the moat.
"You do not want to know" is the sour sounding response of the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, the lady Lé Dic lifts an haughty eyebrow at that, then the young girl says to her uncle "Let us go into the castle then, and you can tell us why you have returned after so many years".
The former earl of Lé Dic nods, he looks back at the others, and gestures them forward as he and his niece start walking across the drawbridge.
Those who came across the drawbridge with Linara Lé Dic, part for the uncle and niece, and fall in behind them as they make their way back into the castle.
As they do, the lady of the fief quietly asks the heavily armoured knight walking beside her "Why exactly have you come back uncle?". "To settle things up Linny" replies sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who then adds "And to find someone" . . . . . .