Wonderful 49.

Belinswae. The City Of Falnic...

"See, me not causing any fucken troubles" says Dorc da Orc, who then adds "Me just havin' some drinks" as he sits in the shade of a tree in the side courtyard of the first tavern he came across since entering the city of Falnic. The large ork has been here since the morning, it's now the middle of the afternoon.
The Swords of Power Ryn if she still had her body of a Greater Dragon, would be rolling her eyes as she talks to the warleader of the ork race.
Dorkindle who is waiting as instructed, is drinking from a large barrel of ale, it's a pale ale and rather dry tasting, which he rather enjoys. He's the only one in the courtyard as all the other customers fled the tavern when he entered it this morning. Even now there's only a few inside, and they're all on the otherside of the tavern from the courtyard.
Normally the tavern owner would be disappointed at so few customers, but since the ork weaponsmith is buying booze and food like there's no tomorrow, he couldn't care less that there's so few customers.
Dorc da Orc who is sitting on the ground in the shade, next to a small round table, on which is some of the food he's yet to eat. Takes some of the crispy pork scratchings, and rolls them up into the round flat bread that seems to be popular here not just in Falnic, but in most of Belinswae.
With a mouthful of food, the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, grunts as he listens to lord Farque's sword that's on the back of his weapon harness. The large ork isn't exactly pleased to be in possession of the sword again, though there's one advantage of having it again. All the voices in his head are silent again, which is both a relief and a little odd to him.
After downing more of the ale, and calling out to inside that he wants more food, Dorc da Orc says in his native tongue "Me know what to fucken do" the warleader of the ork race continues with "We done it lots of fucken times before" he then adds "Trust Dorc".
I'd rather not, Ryn the Sword of Power dryly thinks to herself, who then continues on with her conversation with the large ork, glad that he's just been drinking and eating since entering the city by himself this morning. And he hasn't caused any trouble, say like randomly burn down a building or kill someone in broad daylight in the middle of a street. Which is often the case when he's left on his own in a strange, and new city.
In the north of the port city of Falnic, in the main garrison of justifier Sammacin's army. Lord Farque and Mira Reinholt the mage are in a room that's basically a cell. It's the holding room for any of the unruly guards when they're disciplined, a brig of sorts.
It's not the usual prison, which is next door, where local criminals are held. Nor is it the part of the prison where the captured nomads are held before they're publicly executed.
While lord Farque stands in the shadows of a corner, completely still and not moving, Mira Reinholt lies upon the bench that has a thin mattress upon in. The once powerful mage has just woken up from a nap he's had.
"Think they've forgotten about us?" aaks Mira Reinholt the mage who speaks in the elven language, so that if anyone is listening, he and the undead warlord won't be understood.
"I doubt it" says lord Farque in the same language, who then continues with "Probably busy trying to deal with the turmoil we created at the city gates" the heavily armoured deathlord then adds "Trying to get their wyverns back, and to find out what happened to that justifier".
"He read that demented psycho's mind, that's what happened to him" dryly says the mage Reinholt, who then grins at the memory of the sorcerer who threw up then passed out after trying to read the mind of Dorc da Orc, who like all of his race, is immune to spells on the mind.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster sits up and pours himself a cup of water from the pottery jug on the small stand next to the bench he's on. They're the only things in the holding room, apart from a bucket in one of the corners, used for relieving yourself in, the Vexilian mage in exile hasn't had to use it yet, as he hasn't felt the need to take a leak since they were taken in by the local authorities.
After Mira Reinholt has a drink of water, then gets up and stretches, he says "Wonder when they're going to get to us?" lord Farque is silent for a couple of moments, then he says "I'd say pretty soon" the lord of the death realm informs the exiled Vexilian mage that the justifier has just arrived at the garrison.
A short while later and they hear the lock to the door open, when the door is opened, they're told to come out in the hallway, where a small squad of justifier's guards are waiting for them.
The two of them make their way out into the hallway, they don't say a thing, they don't have to, they've already briefly discussed what they're going to do, and besides they've done this or something very similar numerous times before.
Not far from the main east gates of Falnic, in the side courtyard of a tavern, Dorc da Orc grunts as lord Farque's sword tells him to get going. The large ork stuffs the remaining food on the small table next to him in his mouth. Gets up off the ground, picks up the ale barrel, and heads out of the tavern's courtyard.
The large ork once he's on the street out infront of the tavern, heads north through the port city to where he can smell where lord Farque and Mira Reinholt are.
In the north of Falnic, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque and the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil are led to another building in the garrison, where the majority of this particular justifier's army is housed.
Once inside, they're ushered into one of the rooms on the ground floor, and told to take a seat in on one of the chairs infront of a large desk, the two of them, sit beside one another, while three of the justifier's guards remain in the room, and the rest wait outside in the hallway.
As the two from south of the equator wait, the undead warlord gives a couple of discreet hand signals to the once powerful mage. The swordmaster Reinholt might not understand the plethora of hand signals that the deathlord of Farque has taught Dorc da Orc over the years. But he does know a fair few of them, including the two just given there.
The mage Reinholt slightly nods, then takes the hood of his summer cloak from his head. While the lord of the death realm moves his right leg slightly to one side, so that his steel boot is right next to the exiled Vexilian mage's left boot.
The two Southlanders don't have to wait long, for the justifier named Sammacin, along with his cousin and guard commander Galbin, along with three more guards enter the room.
The justifier who is a wizard, along with his cousin the guard commander, as well as two of the guards make their way around to the otherside of the table.
Justifier Sammacin thinks about taking a seat, but seeing how tall the two on the otherside are, even when seated, he remains standing along with his cousin, and the two guards. All of whom are a similar height to him, around the average height of a man from Belinswae, about five foot eight or five foot nine inches tall.
"Sorry about the wait, but i had to deal to some things" says justifier Sammacin, the mage Reinholt who will do the speaking, nods his head, and says "No problems" the wizard looks at the large, heavily armoured deathlord and tells him "Do you mind lifting your visor, i prefer to look at who I'm speaking to".
"Yeah, you don't want to do that" says Mira Reinholt, who then adds "Horribly disfigured face from a war wound" the Vexilian mage in exile continues with "It'll make you throw up if you see it" the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster after a slight pause says "Like that poor fellow this morning at the city gates when we arrived".
The once powerful mage can't help but slightly grin when the justifier sourly smiles at the mention at that, then the mage who is holding his power within himself, feels lord Farque's right boot touch his left boot. The Vexilian swordmaster knows that the justifier is casting a spell upon him, most likely to see if he's telling the truth or not.
When the young wizard slightly frowns, he knows he's been unable to tell if he's lying or not thanks to lord Farque's touch, and will assume that the mage Reinholt is telling the truth. Which is always the likely answer when your truth spell isn't completely successful.
"Sorry about that" says justifier Sammacin to the undead warlord who just nods his full helmed head in reply, then the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, says "Will this be long?" he then adds "We've traveled far to visit your city, and we would like to see as much of it as possible".
"Of course" says the wizard Sammacin, who continues with "Hopefully it doesn't take too long" the justifier who is one of the rulers of the port city of Falnic then adds "If all is well, you'll be free to go" though from his tone, the young wizard doesn't think this will be likely.
So begins the questioning, with the mage Reinholt answering. The exiled Vexilian mage in exile answers truthfully for the most part, interspersed with a few lies. As he talks, the highly skilled swordmaster feels the right steel boot of the deathlord of Farque touching his left boot every so often. Knowing the undead warlord is stopping the justifier from either reading the once powerful mage's mind or seeing if he's telling the truth or not.
And that if the wizard Sammacin is also doing that to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, the lord of the death realm who is known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, is only allowing the justifier to know what the undead warlord wants him to know.
Mira Reinholt refrains from grinning as he sees the young wizard getting slightly frustrated with his answers, the once powerful mage notices that the two guards behind the desk have started to fidget as well. A sure sign that they've be told that this questioning would of gone smoother, and a lot quicker than it currently is.
Then when the justifier asks him if he and lord Farque have been in the elven principality of Maladimbáh recently, the exiled Vexilian mage sees out of the corner of his eye, the heavily armoured deathlord slightly move his right hand, giving a signal. The swordmaster Reinholt sits back in his chair in a relaxed fashion, and waits for what he knows is about to happen.
Lord Farque stands up, justifier Sammacin stops what he's saying in mid sentence, looks at the large, heavily armoured figure of the lord of the death realm then says "Yes?". The undead warlord doesn't say anything, he just takes a step closer to the desk, then quickly reaches across, and slaps the young wizard across the face. The justifier falls down, face first across the desk.
There's a moment of stunned silence from all the guards in the room after seeing what's just happened, then to a man, they go to draw their weapons.
Mira Reinholt just sits there, not doing a thing as suddenly lord Farque turns into a blur of movement. By the time the exiled Vexilian mage blinks once, then again quickly afterwards, all seven of the justifier's guards, along with their guard commander are on the floor. Like the young wizard, not a single one of them is moving.
The mage Reinholt who didn't hear a single one of the guards drop to the floor, gets up and checks on the justifier "Hell, how hard was that slap?" the highly skilled swordmaster continues with "You didn't kill him, did you?".
"He's alive" says Draugadrottin who then tells the once powerful mage "Get on with it will you" Mira Reinholt rolls his eyes, then rolls the unconscious wizard onto his back where he lies over the desk. Then the Vexilian mage in exile stops holding his power within himself, and reads the mind of the justifier who has been knocked out.
"That bitch" mutters the swordmaster Reinholt, who continues with "She told them a shitload of lies about us that they believe" the once powerful mage is silent for a little while, then he mutters "Fucking degenerate" as he looks at the young wizard.
"You got it?" asks lord Farque "I've got it" says Mira Reinholt, who stops reading the mind of justifier Sammacin, then quickly casts another spell upon the unconscious wizard "There done" says the Vexilian mage in exile.
"Where's our stuff?" asks the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "And in stuff, i mean my mace" the mage Reinholt replies with "In that building we were in before".
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head, then he asks the once powerful mage "How good are you at mind control again?" Mira Reinholt shrugs then says "So, so". "It'll do" says the heavily armoured deathlord who then points at the guard commander Galbin and says "That one will do".
As the swordmaster from Vexil goes to wake the unconscious guard commander, to control his mind, the lord of the death realm says to him "Hurry up mage" he continues with "That big fucking idiot Dorc is on his way here, don't want him fighting his way in here, while we make a clean escape" . . . . . .