The Homecoming 49.

Woods...

As Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy predicted, they arrive in the woods to the north of Falshire during the night.
Sir Galmot who is in command of the force from castle Lé Dic, and those who joined them at castle Duc de Laér. Decides to make camp on the northern side of the woods, about three and half miles from the border town of Falshire. He intends to attack the enemy just before dawn when they least expect it. Or so he hopes.
As for the group, they wander away from the camp, and head south through the woods. They have an advantage. Dorc da Orc and Dalinvardél Tanith. Both of whom can see clearly in the dark.
It's the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae who leads them through the woods, heading south along the narrow road that he made his way up earlier in the day, just after dawn.
They traverse the three and a half miles to the southern edge of the woods fairly quickly. And meet up with the scouts sir Galmot sent ahead to observe the border town. That's only a little over a quarter of a mile from this end of the woods.
The spy Tanith gestures away to the west, to the woodland nearly two and half miles from Falshire. Where he and the rest of the advanced squad watched the border town from.
Between Falshire and there is nothing but farmland, fields actually. Nearly predominantly flat, with the trade road going through it, as it comes from the direction of castle Lé Dic to the border where Falshire lies.
The open farmland just to the west of the border town is the traditional battlefield where the armies of the Lé Dic and Harkonin fiefs usually always fight, when Falshire is up for grabs in one of their conflicts.
It's where a battle took place a little over eighteen months ago. A battle where the earl of the Lé Dic, earl Maxiss Lé Dic, was killed.
As the seven members of the group, wander away from the scouts through the trees. Dalinvardél Tanith, and occasionally Dorc da Orc explains to the others what they see.
There's very little illumination this cool evening, as there's quite a bit of cloud cover in the night sky. While only one of the three moons of Volunell is high in the sky. The smallest moon, Ovean. While the second moon Aeviss is low in the night sky, barely over the horizon to the northeast.
The first moon Ilnari, the largest of the three isn't even up. As is normal for this time of the night, at this time of the year, over this part of the Southlands.
Once Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy finishes describing what he sees, he quietly says to Riley Hait the mercenary ranger "You want me to sneak into town?" the elf from the principality of Alínlae continues with "See if that engineer is in there?".
The others, with the exception of Dorc da Orc and sir Percavelle Lé Dic look at the mercenary ranger who grew up in the elven principality of Envadarlen, wondering what he'll decide to do.
"Maybe" murmurs Riley Hait the mercenary ranger, who looks at the large ork who is leaning against a nearby tree, looking off to the south at the town of Falshire.
"Dorc can you smell a spellcaster in that town at all?" asks the ranger Hait, who knows the ork warleader can sometimes smell people, and things that are magical.
It's the best chance they've got at locating one amongst the enemy in Falshire. Considering they don't have a spellcaster of their own with them. Or with those who came from castle Lé Dic or those who came along with them from castle Duc de Laér.
"Huh?" grunts Dorc da Orc, who looks at the mercenary ranger and asks him "What was that cunt?". "Is there any spellcaster, er anyone magicky in the town there?" is the reply of Riley Hait who gestures to the town, that he can barely see, as no outside lights have been lit. And pretty much all the windows have been shuttered. You can occasionally see a bit of light from Falshire once in a while. Whenever someone opens and closes a door to one of the buildings.
"Hmmm" murmurs the big, burly ork with a frown upon his broad, green, feral looking face as he looks at the border town of Falshire, the ork weaponsmith repeatedly sniffs, then grunts, before saying "Don't know" followed by "Fucken maybe".
"Very well could be one there, if he's not too sure" quietly says the ranger Hait in elven to Dalinvardél Tanith "Best you not go in" adds the mercenary ranger, who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of the ranger named Riley Hait.
Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman looks quickly at sir Percavelle Lé Dic, and spots the shield of Saint Mar-che the large, heavily armoured knight has strapped to his back. And also the blade he has on belt, that resembles a cut down longsword. Both of which are magical.
The mercenary ranger slightly winces as he looks at them, and the longsword on the hip of Tamric Drubine which is also magical. He knows that they can be sensed if a spellcaster was in Falshire, which is only a little over a quarter of a mile away. Who is alert, and is expecting trouble this way. Though they'll have to specifically be sensing for a magical item. Which Riley Hait has been told over the years by practitioners of magic, in particular Mira Reinholt the mage and Helbe the elven thief. Is harder to do than to sense another spellcaster.
The ranger Hait just hopes if there is a spellcaster of some kind in the border town of Falshire, serving in the army of baron Harkonin. That they're preoccupied with something else, and not paying too much attention to what could be coming from this direction.
Fuck, by the tundra gods, one can only hope, Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson thinks to himself  with a shake of his head, then in common, the mercenary ranger says "Tam, you heard what Dalin and Dorc described" Riley Hait continues with "What would you do if you were attacking, as well as defending that town?".
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin is being trained to command. There's no secret about it nowadays, they all know he's been taught battle tactics and commands by lord Farque. As well as Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, though from him it's been predominantly in calvary tactics, particularly light cavalry.
Not to mention Dorc da Orc, as the ork warleader is highly skilled when it comes to warfare. Though Dorkindle is best suited to learn from, just right before a battle commences, and during it.
He's a bit lacking during the build up of a battle at times. As he often gets distracted. It's something lord Farque has been working on with him for years. Usually by hitting the ork weaponsmith to make sure he pays attention.
As Tamric Drubine explains what he'd do if he was in command of those attacking, as well as those defending the town of Falshire. The ranger Hait murmurs to the spy Tanith in elven "If there's a half decent spellcaster in there, we could be in for a right fucking" he follows that up with "Us as well as that lot we've traveled here with".
Dalinvardél Tanith, or Dalin as he's often referred to by the others, nods his hooded head in agreement with the mercenary ranger, and does so again, when Riley aka Zubutai the son of Timagin murmurs to him "Even if lord Milburn brings that wizard from castle Lé Dic along with the main force, we could still be in trouble if the enemy have a proficient spellcaster at their disposal in Falshire" the ranger Hait then adds "That court wizard serving Percy's niece is next to fucking useless".
As Tam continues to explain what he'd do if he was either attacking or defending the nearby town. With Dorc da Orc who is suddenly now interested in what's going on, as he starts butting in on what Tam's saying. As he puts forth what he'd do as well.
Riley Hait glances at sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who has been the quietest of the group all day, and now into the night. Even more so than Shur Kee the monk, who is usually the quietest member of the group.
The heavily armoured knight who is the former earl of Lé Dic, has pretty much been silent since they left castle Duc dé Laér. Where he encountered his ex wife, Marsaé Duc de Laér.
The mercenary ranger who is the nominal leader of the group with the absence of lord Farque, Mira Reinholt and Helbenthril Raendril. Though glad that the normally boisterous sir Percavelle Lé Dic is so quiet.
He kind of hopes the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che snaps out of his reverie when they decide to move upon the town of Falshire early in the morning tomorrow.
For the simple fact, their main goal isn't to take part in wholly attacking baron Harkonin's forces in the border town. It's to locate the engineer they've been searching for since arriving in the kingdom of Druvic. And to get him to come along with them.
Though that's if he's even in Falshire. Which they've yet to determine.
You're not losing it Percy, are you? Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman thinks to himself as he watches the former earl of Lé Dic who is looking out at the farmland and fields to the west of Falshire.
Well, the ranger Hait thinks to himself, who then silently adds in a dry tone, not losing it more than usual.
After listening to what Tamric Drubine has to say, as well as Dorc da Orc who got more and more vocal, as to what he'd do. More so attacking the town of Falshire, not so much defending it.
The mercenary ranger who was raised and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen, quietly asks the others "So what are we going to do about locating this engineer when that lot we're with, attack the town first thing in the morning" Riley Hait briefly pauses, before adding "That's if he's even in there".
The others put forward their ideas. From the basic, such as Dorkindle suggesting they run into town, calling out for that engineer cunt, while he kills everyone he sees. Town folk, soldiers in baron Harkonin's army. Soldiers in the Lé Dic fief army who they came with. He doesn't care who, anyone and everyone will do.
To Tam and Lis suggesting they get into town first, and capture one of baron Harkonin's soldiers. Specifically an officer, or even better a nobleman. And getting one of them to tell them if the engineer they're searching for is in Falshire. And to have whoever it is, take them to where the elusive engineer is.
"You know, what the two youngsters came up with, is a pretty good idea" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, Riley Hait nods his head in agreement. Then as the temperature continues to drop, as following the cool day, the night is now cold. The mercenary ranger tells the others "We'll do what Tam and Lis have suggested" he continues with "We'll get into town as quickly as possible, and take one of the baron's officers prisoner or any of them really. See if they know of the war engineer, and see if he's in Falshire".
Seeing as that's the best course of action for now, as well as hoping there isn't a competent spellcaster with baron Harkonin's forces in the border town of Falshire.
The ranger Hait suggests they set up camp nearby, as it will be an early day for them tomorrow. They move off, to find a place to camp.
As they do, the mercenary ranger who was brought up and trained by some of the warders of the elven principality of Envadarlen looks back, and finds sir Percavelle Lé Dic still staring out at the fields to the west of Falshire.
Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson has to quietly call out to him a couple of times, before the former earl of Lé Dic eventually turns away, and starts to follow the rest of them.
The ranger Hait stops, and lets the heavily armoured knight walk by. The mercenary ranger continues to watch the nobleman when they final get to a spot that Dalinvardél Tanith deems is fit for them to camp at.
Riley Hait wanders over to where Dorkindle has sat himself down against the trunk of a large tree, and has taken out a whetstone and has started honing one of his axes.
Crouching down next to the large ork, who the mercenary ranger thinks could definitely do with a bath. Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman quietly says to the warleader of the ork race "Dorc, tomorrow keep close to Percy".
Dorc da Orc grins, and slowly sliding the whetstone along the edge of the axehead he's honing, the ork weaponsmith says "Oh Dorc gonna keeps real fucken close to him alrights" he moves the whetstone slowly along the edge of the blade, until he gets towards one end of the axehead, then he flicks the whetstone right at the end, making a slight zinging sound.
"Reals fucken close" says Dorkindle with a chuckle. The ranger Hait sourly smiles, then he tells the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks "You know what i mean" the mercenary ranger then adds "Keep him out of trouble, keep him safe".
Seeing the large ork about to protest, Riley Hait quietly tells him "If you don't, and Percy gets himself killed. I'll tell Farque it was you who let the knight get into trouble, and ending up with him being dead".
The ork warleader scowls at the Ranger Hait, and for a moment there, Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson thinks Dorkindle is going to grab him and shove that whetstone down his throat, then chop his head off with the axe he's just sharpened.
When the large ork, who was thinking exactly that, softly growls, then mutters "Fucken cunt, don't have to get all nasties and tells on Dorc".
The ork warleader grunts then sourly smiles as he looks over at sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who is on the otherside of the fire that Dalinvardél Tanith has just lit. Getting out of some of his armour with the help of Shur Kee the monk and Tamric Drubine.
Riley Hait looks over at the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che too. And sees that the former earl of Lé Dic still looks distracted, as if he's dwelling on something. The mercenary ranger figures it's probably to do with Percy still thinking about the encounter he had with his ex wife, Marsaé Duc de Laér.
Which at the moment is partially correct. But for sir Percavelle Lé Dic at the forefront of his mind is something else at this time. Something that he'll come to terms with, and hopefully rectify tomorrow morning . . . . . .

The Homecoming 48.

Castles...

"Why did you do it like that?" asks Narladene the ground pixie, who then adds "In a dream?".
"It felt like the right thing to do" says Helbe the elven thief who scratches his chin, as he stands upon the east wall of castle Lé Dic as the morning closes towards midday.
"You should of just appeared in the middle of her bed chamber last night and told her" says the naturally magical creature who is sitting on the right shoulder of the young elven noble she's attached to.
"I would've scared her half to death if i had done that" dryly says the elven magic user who is blurred and shielded "I can't very well be doing that" dryly adds the elven masterthief.
They're looking down into one of the larger courtyards in the massive castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family. They're watching the lady Hollis Duc de Laér crossing the courtyard with her charge, the lady Linara Lé Dic.
The two of them, who are heading to the main keep of the castle for their midday meal. Are followed by a couple of the guards to the young lady of the fief.
The elven princeling from Laerel has read the minds of all the soldiers in the guard squadron to lady Linara Lé Dic. And found them all loyal to her, and not her maternal grandfather, lord Kievar Milburn. Much to the relief of the highly talented elven spellcaster.
"Besides i may as well not of bothered" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who continues with "She doesn't trust lord Milburn anyway" he nods his hooded head down towards the two nobles making their way to the main keep, and he adds "That's why she's always close to the young lady. And never that far from her".
Narladene nods her tiny head, then says "Still, that doesn't change the fact that the girl's grandfather had her cousin kill her father". "I know" mutters the elven magic user from the island principality of Laerel, who once again wishes sir Percavelle Lé Dic was here. As he knows the former earl of the fief, would quickly deal with the situation, by just killing lord Milburn and Jared Milburn, who killed his brother, the previous earl of the fief, Maxiss Lé Dic.
Unfortunately the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che isn't here at castle Lé Dic at the moment. Nor is lord Milburn and Jared Milburn. They've all gone east to the border with the Harkonin fief. As the baron of the neighbouring fief to the east, has captured the border town of Falshire.
A strategic point between the two most eastern fiefs in the kingdom of Druvic, as a trade road, that comes all the way from the capital Leeabra further to the west. Travels through the Lé Dic fief, before going through the border town of Falshire, and continues on through the Harkonin fief, then out of the kingdom itself to the unruled lands to the east.
"Might have to do something else" quietly says the elven masterthief "Like what?" asks the tiny winged creature as they watch the lady Hollis and her charge enter the main keep "Like actually show up here" says the young elven noble who is the grandson of the ruling prince of
Laerel.
Narladene lifts an arched eyebrow in surprise at that, then she says "Well whatever you think is best". Helbenthril Raendril wryly smiles after hearing the dubious tone that the ground pixie said that in.
And he tells her "It will be best" then after a slight pause, he quietly adds "I hope".
The elven masterthief turns and looks west, and before he shifts away in that direction, he tells the naturally magical creature "I'm expected" after a brief pause, he continues on with "Well Farque, Mira and i are expected. Percy told his niece and others that the three of us will be turning up here to join him and the rest of the group" the elven princeling then adds "So i might as well turn up".
Narladene grabs onto the cloak of the elven master assassin as she senses he's about to cast. The young elven noble shifts away, heading west from castle Lé Dic.
Helbe the elven thief shifts at least half a dozen times before he comes to a stop, the elven magic user drops his blur spell, and steps out from behind a tree. Then still with his shield up, so that other spellcasters can not sense him. He hurries to the road about twenty yards away, that leads back to castle Lé Dic.
The stretch of the road he's on is empty at the moment, that's why he picked this spot. Helbenthril Raendril knows that there's a farm wagon a couple of hundred yards ahead of him. While further behind him, a good half a mile away to the west. There's group of conscripts who have been summoned to castle Lé Dic. To be part of the war effort against the Harkonin fief.
The elven master archer starts walking to the massive castle and the town of Massic that sits to the west of the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family. The elven princeling expects to reach the western outskirts of Massic just after midday, then a little after that, castle Lé Dic. On what's a cool day at this time of the year here in the kingdom of Druvic where the seasons are changing from winter to spring.
As he walks, the young elven noble from Laerel and the ground pixie who is originally from the Sunreach Mountains, quietly chat in elvish, as to what prince Helbenthril Raendril will do when he shows up at castle Lé Dic, again.
It's just after midday when the elven masterthief gets to the town of Massic. As he's just about to enter the largest town in the Lé Dic fief, Narladene who is invisible to all, except for the young elven noble she's attached to, and animals. Quietly tells him "You should take your hood off your head" the tiny winged creature continues with "You're a much more inviting figure with it down, than up" then with a wide smile upon her tiny face, she adds "And besides, you can see your handsome face more without it on".
She definitely has ideas, doesn't she? Helbe the elven thief dryly thinks to himself with a sideways glance at the smiling ground pixie sitting upon his right shoulder. Then suppressing a sigh, as he knows that Narladene will just continually bug him until he does take the hood of his cloak off his head. He reaches up, and takes the hood down off his head, as he enters Massic.
"Better?" murmurs the highly talented elven magic user "Definitely" says the tiny winged creature who continues to smile. Helbenthril Raendril stops himself from rolling his eyes, and heads through town.
The elven master assassin already knows the quickest way on foot through Massic to get to the nearby castle that's the ancestral home of the Lé Dic family. So it's not too long before he's in the east of town and looking at the walls of the massive castle .
Helbe the elven thief heads to the drawbridge and the gate on this side of it, and gets inline behind a carter, who is wanting to enter the castle.
The soldiers on duty notice him, and perk up, as it's not often they have an elf visiting castle Lé Dic. Especially one attired like him. Who has a longbow over a shoulder, and a shortsword on his hip. They're the only weapons of his that are visible, though he has way more weapons that are hidden on him, way more. For amongst the group, only Dorc da Orc carries more weapons. As the large ork is basically a walking armoury. Who could easily outfit a large squad in any army in any land throughout the Southlands with the amount of weapons he has.
After the carter starts heading across the drawbridge, one of the soldiers on duty asks the young elven noble "Your name, and purpose for entering castle Lé Dic".
"I'm Helbe" says the elven magic user who gives his abbreviated name, as his last name is even known here in the east of Druvic. Not to mention that there's many a knight in the kingdom of Druvic who are members of the order named after his father, Althilgah, the Warder of Quinthain. "I'm a friend of sir Percavelle Lé Dic, i do believe I'm expected" adds the elven princeling from Laerel.
The soldier who spoke looks over at the other who nods, then he turns and calls out "Antoine get out here and escort this elf into the main keep!".
As a young soldier hurries out of the gate house, the soldier speaking to the elven masterthief, tells him "Sir Percavelle isn't here at the moment, but i figure the young lady Lé Dic will want to speak with you" he then adds "Young Antoine will take you to her".
"Thank you" says the elven magic user who is glad he didn't have to resort to casting anything to get into the castle. He kind of likes the challenge of not using his advanced magical skills to get his way, and what he wants.
The young elven noble walks with the young soldier across the drawbridge. After crossing it, Antoine informs the soldiers at the inner gate house who Helbenthri Raendril is. And the two of them go through the large open gates in the west wall of the massive castle, and enter castle Lé Dic proper.
As they make their way to the main keep. Antoine asks the elven master archer if he's as good with his longbow. As two of the other friends of sir Percavelle Lé Dic. The other elf, and the mercenary ranger, who came first and second in the ranged weapon event in the recent tourney, part of the festival that celebrates the end of winter.
"Dalin and Riley?" asks the elven master archer "That's the two" says the young soldier as they walk around one of the many broach towers in castle Lé Dic.
"Yeah I'm a little bit better than those two" says prince Helbenthril Raendril who is way more advanced of an archer than Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy and Riley Hait the mercenary ranger, who though highly skilled, and are excellent archers. Are no where near as proficient with a bow as the young elven noble from the principality of Laerel.
"Wow" says Antoine, who continues with "You must be something to see shoot" the young soldier who is probably only fifteen, shakes his head in disbelief, then adds "Those two were really good".
The elven masterthief nods his head in agreement as they walk across the same large courtyard that he watched the lady Hollis and her charge the lady Linara crossing just before midday.
The elven magic user and the young soldier enter the main keep of castle Lé Dic, and head to the main hall. At the doors to the main hall, Antoine calls over a page. And though the page is of noble birth, he comes over and listens to what the young soldier has to tell him. For that's his duty as a page.
The elven princeling is glad that his upbringing wasn't like that. As the elven nobility have different ways in which they act and behave compared to their human equivalents. Especially ones in kingdoms like Druvic, or feudal kingdoms like Sarcrin, where Tamric Drubine hails from.
As the page hurries into the main hall, and goes to the high table where lady Linara Lé Dic is lunching with lady Hollis Duc de Laér and others. Antoine and the two soldiers on door duty, chat to the elven magic user about his journey here from the capital Leeabra.
The young elven noble tells them that it was pretty uneventful. Apart from losing lord Farque and Mira Reinholt, and not knowing where the hell they are. Though he doesn't mention that bit.
The page returns, and informs the elven master assassin that the lady Linara Lé Dic would like to see him.
Then with the page leading the way, and the young soldier Antoine tagging along behind him. Helbe the elven thief enters the main hall of the central keep of castle Lé Dic, to go and speak to the young girl who rules this massive castle, and the fief it's in.
Meanwhile, in the fief to the east. At castle Harkonin. A force in the army of the baron is about to depart, and join those who are already at the border town of Falshire. The original squads who took the town. And the force led by sir Sarvaine who got there a couple of days ago.
Leading this latest force that's about to depart castle Harkonin and the town of Maliss. Is the army commander sir Taevar. Going along with him is a number of other nobles, including sir Dontas, the knight of Althilgah.
There's also a number of war machines going with them too. They're older ones, not the latest one's that were designed by the war engineer Tovis. These older, large weapons of war are already on the road west to Falshire, having left a little earlier than the large column of riders and foot soldiers.
In the work yard outside the castle walls, the foreman Bassark looks up at the mounted sir Dontas who has stopped by before leaving.
"We'll get the new one's finished as soon as we can sir Dontas" says Bassark the work yard foreman, who like all the commoners in the castle and in town, not to mention throughout the fief. Like the knight of Althilgah. He's without doubt the most popular noble in the Harkonin fief. Even more so than the baron and his family.
Bassark, who has often wondered if that's caused any tension with the other nobles in the fief. Tells the heavily armoured knight who is in mid twenties "We'll get them off and rolling towards Falshire by the end of the week. Especially those two new trebuchets".
"Not to worry if you don't Bassark" says sir Dontas, whose father is the lord of High Grove "Just send what you can, as soon as you can" adds the heavily armoured knight, who is one of the few ordered knights here in the eastern region of the kingdom.
The knight in the order of Althilgah then asks the yard foreman "Is there anything you want to tell young Tovis?".
"Tell him not to get himself killed" dryly says Bassark, which causes the knight of the first class to laugh, then he says "I will" sir Dontas then adds "Anything else?".
The work yard foreman glances around, and though only the knight of Althilgah's squire, and two of his banner men are close by. He quietly tells the son of the lord of High Grove "Tell him to be careful around you know who". "And who would that be foreman?" quietly asks the sir Dontas.
Bassark is sure the nobleman knows very well who he's referring to. As the knight of the first class knows all of those who left with sir Sarvaine on the seventh day just gone by.
"I don't particularly want to say" murmurs the work yard foreman "Don't worry Bassark, i know whose apprentice you're referring to" says sir Dontas who continues with "I'll tell Tovis to keep an eye on him" the heavily armoured knight then quietly adds "I'll keep an eye on him too".
A shouted call comes from the column nearby, who have started to depart "Well then, we're off" says the knight in the order of Althilgah, who nods to Bassark and says "Be seeing you foreman". "And you too sir" says the yard foreman, who watches sir Dontas, his squire and two of his banner men ride across the work yard, to join the rest of the column who are leaving castle Harkonin and the town of Maliss, as they set off for the border town of Falshire.
Bassark turns and heads back to the workshop he's been in today, as he does he can see through the open gates in the south wall of the castle.
And gets a pretty good view of the main keep, and though baron Harkonin and others of his court are watching the departing column from the steps at the doors on the south side of the main keep.
The workyard foreman spots a figure at one of the windows, high up in the main keep, watching the riders and foot soldiers making their way out of the castle and through the town.
And who are you watching you black hearted bastard? Bassark thinks to himself as he recognises the dark druid Palvarc watching the departing column from high up in the main keep of castle Harkonin . . . . . .

The Homecoming 47.

Rendezvous...

They observe the border town of Falshire for nearly a day, before some of them are sent back to inform those who are still making their way towards the border.
While a few riders head back directly west, the way in which they originally came from.
Three others are sent north, then west. As that's the direction, the first force led by sir Galmot are expecting to come from.
Though Dalinvardél Tanith wasn't originally picked to be one of the three riders to go that way. He tells the officer in command, that he'll be going that way anyway.
The officer who has no say in what sir Percavelle Lé Dic's friend does. Just shrugs his shoulders, and tells the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae. What he tells the two soldiers who are going with them.
That the forces of baron Harkonin who have taken over the town of Falshire. Are digging in, and are expecting a retaliatory attack from the army of the Lé Dic fief at anytime now.
The spy Tanith and the two soldiers with him. Having left well before sunrise. Ride through the forest that's to the north of the border town that's been a bone of contention between the Lé Dic and Harkonin families for many generations.
They ride along a narrow road, cart track really, for a lot of the morning. Before the road widens a bit, as they forest thins out, and the pass through more open land.
They see very few people as they ride. Just an occasional shepherd, tending to a flock here and there, along some of the nearby hilltops as the forest gives away to meadows, and more open woodland.
And some workers in an orchard, up one of the larger hills to their right. Dalinvardél Tanith spots an old temple or church, or a monastery on the hilltop with the orchard all the way around it.
One of the soldiers riding with him, informs the elven spy that it was once a monastic outpost for an order of knights. Which one, he's not too sure. Just that they were driven out by the local nobility many centuries ago.
Probably when most, if not all the nobility in this area of the kingdom followed the ways of the druids. Whether they be dark druids or not.
Back then, the worship of the gods of Volunell in this region of Druvic, wasn't as widespread as it is now.
The old ways, as it's commonly referred to. Was worshiped far more than it is now. Even here in eastern Druvic. Probably the last true stronghold of the druidic way, not just in the kingdom of Druvic. But all the Southlands.
They don't stop at all, continuing to ride throughout the morning. On what's a relatively cool day, in that time when the seasons are changing. In this case, between winter and spring.
It's late in the morning, when Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin to those who know him well. With his superior eyesight and hearing in comparison to the two humans he's riding with.
Spots the column of riders and foot soldiers in the distance on the road, further to the northwest. Heading in this direction.
The elf who once served in one of the more notable noble houses in the principality of Alínlae. Sees it's soldiers from castle Lé Dic, led by sir Galmot the army leader.
He informs the two soldiers with him that he's seen the column in the distance. And the three of them speed up, and it's not too long before they encounter the scouts who are acting as the fore riders for the column of about a hundred and twenty or so who have come from castle Lé Dic, and another twenty five who joined them when they stopped at castle Duc de Laér.
One of the scouts rides back to the column with them. There the two soldiers who Dalinvardél Tanith has ridden with all morning. Inform sir Galmot and his officers what's happening at the border town of Falshire, that's now under baron Harkonin's control.
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae heads back along the column to where he's spotted the rest of the group who are on foot, including sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tamric Drubine who are on foot as well, as they lead their borrowed mounts.
The spy Tanith dismounts, glances at Dorc da Orc who is walking right behind the former earl of Lé Dic, and a nervous looking horse. The elf who is nearing three hundred years of age. Walks beside Riley Hait the mercenary ranger, and in elvish. Tells him what he's seen at the town of Falshire.
Both Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera listen to the elven spy tell the mercenary ranger, what's happening at the border town they're heading towards. They, like the ranger Hait listen in silence to what Dalin has to say.
"The pace you lot are going, you'll probably get into the forest to the north of Falshire sometime late this afternoon, more likely tonight" says Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy after he's told Riley Hait what he's seen, and observed of Falshire, and the forces of baron Harkonin who have taken it over.
"Was it that easy to see in there, to get such an accurate count of their forces?" asks Riley Hait the mercenary ranger, who then adds "Or did you sneak in when no one was looking, and get a good look at them?".
"Easier than that" says the elven spy from the principality of Alínlae, who continues with "I got a couple of farmers to go into town and count them all for me" Dalin shrugs his shoulders, then adds "They don't seem to care about the local farmers and town folk coming and going" he then says "They're commoners, they don't care what they get up to".
The mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen nods his head to that, as he has been in many a kingdom such as Druvic, where the common people are treated as inconsequential. And they're only thought of if they're in jobs that bring a direct benefit to the nobility. Such as soldiers in the armies, either volunteers, or conscripts.
Or as workers, in their armies. Or at the castles and keeps. Outside of that, the common people are pretty much only seen as a source of income. As in how much tax can be collected from there.
And though it's slightly different in cities, such as Leeabra, the capital of Druvic. Here in more rual fiefs, that's the life the common folk have to endure.
Then there's the noble family who rules the various fiefs. Life under them can either be comfortable depending how the lord or lady of the fief behaves. Or it can be oppressive. As some of the nobility who rule the fiefs in a kingdom such as Druvic. Are nothing but tyrants.
It's fairly rare that you'll get one in the middle. Most fiefs in Druvic are lead by one or the other. A fair minded, but tough nobleman or woman. Or a complete egotistical tyrant, who rules his or her fief with violence or terror, many times both.
The ranger Hait, who slightly frowned at something Dalin said earlier, quietly asks him "Get a good look at the siege equipment and war machines there?".
"Some of them" says the spy Tanith, who continues with "The others were saying most of them is from what was already there from the previous border conflict eighteen months ago, when Percy's brother was killed" the elf from Alínlae then adds "From both sides by the looks of it".
Dalinvardél Tanith pauses for a few moments, then says "The baron's forces might of bought some stuff with them from castle Harkonin when more of them arrived a few days ago" he continues on with "One of the farmers i had go in and look around at things, said he saw some of them working in the town's largest smithy they've taken over. And that they've got some canvas covered wagons with something in them. He couldn't get close enough to see what, without bringing too attention to himself".
The mercenary ranger, who in actual fact, is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of Riley Hait. Nods his head, and quietly says "Our engineer's work perhaps?" the ranger Hait then adds "Think he might actually be there?".
"Perhaps" says Dalin who then adds "And i have" in reply to the mercenary ranger's questions, then the spy Tanith tells Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman "It might be a good thing he's there, and it might not" the elven spy continues with "We may find him quickly. But if not, he could very well get himself killed, since I'm fairly certain this lot is going to attack Falshire the first chance they get".
The mercenary ranger who was raised and trained by some of the elven warders of Envadarlen, grimaces as that's a very distinct possibility. If the war engineer they're searching for in the eastern region of Druvic. Is in baron Harkonin's forces, and happens to be in the town of Falshire. He could very well get himself killed in battle, before they get a chance to find him, and take him away with them.
"Fuck that's all we need, him in Falshire, and getting killed before we can even get to him" mutters Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson, who once again, wishes that lord Farque, Mira Reinholt the mage and Helbe the elven thief were here with them. As either one of the spellcasters, in particular the elven magic user, prince Helbenthril Raendril could easily locate the individual they're searching for. And take him out of harms way, before the engineer even knows what's happening.
"And the fact he might not exactly want to come along with us" quietly says Dalin, who continues with "We don't exactly have his highness here to persuade him to come along. One of us will have to do some pretty fast talking, to explain to him, that it's best to leave his life and home behind, and to come along with us".
Once again the ranger Hait grimaces, as that's another problem he's thought about since the group split up, and he's the nominal leader now that lord Farque, Mira Reinholt, and Helbenthril Raendril aren't with them at this time.
Riley Hait who thought that those three would of rejoined them by now. After all, they were only in the capital Leeabra, which is less than five days travel away on foot from castle Lé Dic. Quietly tells the elven spy "We'll deal with that problem when we come across it" he then adds "That's if he's even in Falshire in the first place".
Dalinvardél Tanith, who is wearing his hood up at the moment, nods in agreement, then he glances at sir Percavelle Lé Dic. Who is suspiciously quiet. As he thought the heavily armoured knight who is the former earl of the Lé Dic fief. Would of been pressuring him to tell him everything about what's happening at the border town of Falshire.
Instead the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che is just staring ahead as he walks, leading his borrowed mount. He's not even annoyed that Dorc da Orc is following him so closely. Infact in looks like sir Percavelle doesn't even know the large ork is right behind him and his borrowed horse. A horse that's clearly skittish that the big, burly ork is following right behind it.
"What's wrong with Percy?" quietly asks Dalin who continues speaking in the elven language "He's withdrawn to say the least" adds the elven spy from Alínlae.
"Huh?" says Riley Hait who was just thinking about what they'll have to do, if the engineer they're searching for, is in the town of Falshire when they get there.
"Oh" says the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen, who then tells that spy Tanith "He had a run in with his ex wife when we stopped at her family's castle and picked up some more of this lot".
"Not good?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith "Not good" replies Zubutai Timaginson, who then dryly adds "Definitely not good". The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae raises an eyebrow at that, then murmurs "Bit disappointed i missed out on seeing all that".
The ranger Hait wryly smiles when he hears that, then he quietly says to Dalin "Well there was definitely one positive to come out of all that" Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman continues with "It was the most effective thing ever to getting him to shut up. Hardly heard a thing from him since we left there".
The spy Tanith glances at the former earl of Lé Dic, who is silent as he walks and leads his borrowed horse "A silent Percy, now that's a novelty" says Dalinvardél Tanith who after a brief pause continues with "Wonder if he'll be so quiet when we reach Falshire, and this lot go into battle?" answering his own question, the elven spy from Alínlae quietly adds "For some reason, i rather doubt it" . . . . . .

The Homecoming 46.

The Border...

"Get those tools stacked Larm" says Tovis the war engineer, who then adds "Then get down to the small square and join the others".
"Yes sir" says Larm the work yard apprentice, who hurries into the smithy to help with the storing of the tools, while the young war engineer hurries across the yard behind the inn that they've taken over as their headquarters.
Baron Harkonin's war engineer heads across town, heading to the small square in the west. As he does, he looks to his right, and on the next street over, he sees one of the catapults being rolled to the west of town.
It's one of the war machines that's been here since the last border conflict. Which the Lé Dic army had appropriated. Until last week when the town of Falshire was retaken by the advanced forces of baron Harkonin.
Falshire, a town on the border between the fiefs of Lé Dic and Harkonin. That's been fought over countless times over the years.
It was even fought over before there were actual fiefs, and a kingdom of Druvic. When robber barons ruled these lands, nearly seven centuries ago, before the kingdom was founded.
A town that's been fought over due to the road that goes through it. A trade road, that's been around even before the town was a small out of the way village.
A town, that since the kingdom of Druvic was founded. And the original fiefs were drawn up on the maps of the kingdom. Because it makes such an excellent battlefield. With the open ground to the west of town.
Open ground that used to be meadows between the woodlands.
But over the years as most of the surrounding forest was cut down, and the nearby hills, were developed into vineyards and orchards. The meadows were tilled, and turned into fields for farms.
Open ground that was basically flattened to make them into fields. Which also made it into the ideal place to have a battle. Especially as it's right on the border between two of the most eastern fiefs in the kingdom of Druvic.
Falshire, the town in the kingdom that's probably seen more battles than anywhere else in Druvic. Even during the civil war in the last decade. Which the eastern nobles, weren't that particularly active in. There was still a couple of battles in around Falshire.
It didn't help that the Lé Dic and Harkonin families were on opposite sides during the war of succession. With the Harkonin's on the side of the duke of Carville. The eventual winner of the civil war. Who is now the king of Druvic.
While the Lé Dic family sided with the dukes uncle, the brother of the previous king, who died in mysterious circumstances when a small force of elementals and other malcontents. Flew in from the Sunreach Mountains, and attacked the capital Leeabra. In retaliation of their range being invaded by a combined force of noble families, and knightly orders from here in Druvic, as well as the city-state of Kuradum. Which lies to the north of the Sunreach Mountains.
The town of Falshire, where there was a battle just over eighteen months ago. When the previous head of the Lé Dic family. Earl Maxiss Lé Dic was killed. Even though he died, the Lé Dic fief retained Falshire in that battle. Much to the annoyance of baron Harkonin. Who vowed to take it back, and once again, have it part of his family's fief.
Now the baron has got his wish, having staged a surprise attack with his best squads, upon the garrison of Lé Dic soldiers here in Falshire. Who never expected an attack to take place at the end of winter.
As all indications had led to a campaign later in the springtime. As both sides have been building up to that. As it was always inevitable that conflict was going to break out between the two fiefs once again.
Since the Harkonin's wanted Falshire back under their rule. While the Lé Dic's wanted revenge for the death of their former earl.
As he walks through Falshire this cool morning, that's in that week between the end of winter, and the start of spring. Tovis the engineer looks at the buildings here in the west of the town.
Many of which are in a state of repair, after being damaged during the conflict, more than eighteen months ago. There's gaps between some of the building, where other buildings and structures once stood.
They were either destroyed in the conflict, that took the life of earl Maxiss Lé Dic. Or they were so badly damaged then, that they were brought down, as they were never going to be fixed again.
Over the years, the town folk of Falshire have rebuilt and rebuilt countless times. They know exactly when a building is too far gone, that it's waste of time to rebuild. And it's best to bring it down and start again.
One building that's in a state of repair, is a three storey storage building. On the edge of the small square in the west of the town.
Tovis passes the soldiers at the back door of the building, and enters it. The war engineer makes his way upstairs, going by soldiers and others who have come from castle Harkonin and the town of Maliss.
He gets to the top floor, most of which is missing it's roof, and some of the walls. Including everything that faces to the west.
The young engineer walks around the frame of an interior wall that's been worked on recently. And joins others who are standing in what's to be a west facing room here on the third floor of the building.
Tovis nods to the young knight in waiting Tamár. The squire grins as he's sees the war engineer, who he's gotten to know better as they've traveled from castle Harkonin, and been here in Falshire the last couple of days.
The war engineer looks around, and spots the apprentice druid Maren, who has just come up from somewhere downstairs. Maren stands off to one side, keeping away from the others, who are all listening to lord Sarvaine, who is in command here in Falshire.
"Engineer you're here, good" says lord Sarvaine when he spots Tovis, the lord of the Long Reaches, waves the war engineer forward, and tells the rest to move away for a little while.
As the others, mostly officers, sergeant at arms, a couple of nobles, one of whom is squire Tamár. And one druid's apprentice. Wander away, here in the open air, top storey of the building.
Lord Sarvaine and the baron's war engineer move to the the northwest corner of the top floor. There, the lord of the Long Reaches, quietly says to the young engineer "Scouts came in earlier and spotted a small squad of the enemy to the west observing us".
Tovis nods, then quietly says "Well, it's to be expected" he follows that up with "Now, it's when they send a larger force that we should start to worry a bit sir".
"I know" murmurs the lord of the Long Reaches, which is located just a couple of days travel from Falshire. So he's always relieved when the border town is under the rule of the Harkonin fief. As it puts one more settlement and tract of land between his own, and that of the Lé Dic fief.
Lord Sarvaine who has come to depend on the judgement of the young war engineer since arriving here in Falshire, says to him "You fought here eighteen months ago, while i was further south of the border".
"I wouldn't exactly say i fought sir" dryly says Tovis as he interrupts the nobleman who wears some of the heaviest looking plate armour the young engineer has ever seen "I maintained the war machines and siege engines, it was my father who was acting war engineer then" adds the young engineer, who then says "Though we had the better of them most of that summer, we still lost the town to them".
"Only because you got the order to pull out of here" says the lord of the Long Reaches, who then quietly adds "And we all know why".
Tovis slightly grimaces at that, for the druid Palvarc informed baron Harkonin that it would be best to move his forces here in Falshire at the time, out of the border town.
The baron went along with that suggestion, and when his forces did retreat from Falshire. The rear guard protecting those pulling out, who included Tovis, and his father Mallick the engineer. And what siege engines and war machines they could take out with them.
They had a skirmish with a force from the Lé Dic fief. It was then, in a rather inconsequential rear guard action by the soldiers in baron Harkonin's army here in Falshire.
That earl Maxiss Lé Dic, the ruler of fief Lé Dic at that time. Was killed. By who in the army of baron Harkonin. No one is exactly sure. Just that he fell from his horse during that skirmish fighting the rear guards in the baron's army pulling out of Falshire.
The lord of the Long Reaches after looking out at the fields to the west of town, where the former earl of Lé Dic died eighteen months ago. Where now on this cool morning, at the twix of winter and spring. A few farm hands are working some of the fields. As life still goes on for the common folk of Falshire, no matter whose fief it belongs to.
He looks at those who are also on the top floor of the three storey storage building, the top floor that's open to the sky. He spots Maren the druid's apprentice at the far end, the southern end of the floor.
"You take my meaning young engineer?" quietly asks lord Sarvaine, Tovis sees who the lord of the Long Reaches is looking at, then slightly nods. The war engineer quietly says "I do sir".
The nobleman looks out at the fields and open ground to the west of Falshire again, then quietly says "If we get a strange order from the baron, you'll know why" the lord of the Long Reaches looks like he's bitten into something sour, and he sounds like it too, as he quietly adds "What with that damn druid's lackey here with us".
Lord Sarvaine is quiet for a few moments, then he quietly says "Still, it's to the benefit of the baron and our fief" he sourly adds "Can't complain too much now, can we?".
"No sir" murmurs Tovis, who knows the lord of the Long Reaches is a pragmatic man, who isn't that much of a follower of the old ways.
He pays lip service to it, for the simple fact that baron Harkonin is an ardent follower of the old ways. Though Tovis knows, the baron wasn't always like that. He's only become a stringent follower of the old druidic ways in the last decade or so. Ever since Palvarc the dark druid turned up in the Harkonin fief. And became the advisor to the baron after getting rid of the previous druid who advised the baron, ever since he took over ruling the fief when his father passed away.
"Be that as it may" says lord Sarvaine who continues with "It's us and the soldiers who will fight and die to hold this town, as it's always been" the lord of the Long Reaches is quiet for a moment or two, then he says "Right, now where again do you think is the best positions for the machines we've got at the moment?".
Tovis, who has already discussed this with the nobleman. Knows that lord Sarvaine just wants confirmation as to where it's best to place the equipment they've retaken, as well as what they brought with them on the three wagons from castle Harkonin,
The lord of the Long Reaches is silent as he listens to his baron's young war engineer explain things once again.
As Tovis comes to an end with what they've previously discussed, he adds "Though like i mention yesterday, they could still attack from the north if they have a sizable force" he continues with "They can get closer to town that way without being seen. They did that a couple of times during the conflict in the summer before last".
"Split their force maybe?" asks lord Sarvaine "Yes sir" replies the war engineer, who continues with "Out in the fields to the west, while sending foot soldiers through the forest to the north".
The lord of the Long Reaches slightly nods, as he knows that a highly likely possibility. For though the warfare in Druvic, when it isn't attacking or defending a castle, is often in open ground. For the simple reason the nobility are usually heavily armoured and mounted.
It isn't beyond them to skulk about. In what one would consider to be warfare that's beneath one's noble standing. Especially between fiefs that are often in conflict with one another. Such as the Harkonin and Lé Dic fief.
"If they've got an advanced force, with only a small number of horse, then they might come through the forest to the north as well" says lord Sarvaine, who after a slight pause adds "We have to take that into consideration when we deploy the men".
The nobleman rubs his chin, then glances towards the southern end of the top floor of the building, and slightly grimaces. The lord of the Long Reaches then quietly says in a slightly sour tone of voice "Wonder if Palvarc's lackey can give us fair warning with which they'll come?".
"I don't know sir" murmurs Tovis, who doesn't exactly know the ways of spellcasters, especially the ways of the dark druid and his apprentice. Apart from the rites that he's been present at. None of which, he wants to endure going through again. Not when some of his own equipment was used in their last rite, that completed a druids circle overlooking a village not that far from Maliss and castle Harkonin.
"Maybe sir" says the young engineer, who continues with "Who knows?". "Who knows indeed" says lord Sarvaine in a slightly sour tone of voice, who then adds "Suppose we better find that out". Tovis just nods his head to that. For even though he knows the lord of the Long Reaches is right. It doesn't mean either one of them particularly wants to talk to Maren.
The war engineer has found that the least one has to deal with the dark druid Palvarc, and his apprentice Maren, the better. Unfortunately that's easier said than done. Since Palvarc is baron Harkonin's advisor. And he's the baron's war engineer. Their paths often cross, and they're often in the same meetings, and on occasions, have to work together.
Lord Sarvaine glances at Tovis, then quietly says to his baron's war engineer "I see you're not exactly enamoured with the idea of chatting with Palvarc's lackey".
"You could be right sir" is the quiet reply of Tovis "I am right" dryly says the nobleman who is command of baron Harkonin's forces here in the border town of Falshire. He continues in that same dry tone with "Nor am i really" followed with a muttered "I can't stand the little cretin".
After slightly shaking his head, the heavily armoured landed knight looks out to the west of town, then to the north, as the building they're in, especially without it's roof, and most of that outer walls here on the top floor, gives them a good view in all directions.
Then the lord of the Long Reaches glances at Tovis, and quietly tells him "You know war engineer, I've always appreciated you and your father's work for the baron". The young engineer knows there's a but coming. So he's not at all surprised that lord Sarvaine adds "But" before continuing on with "I've never really cared for your position in the baron's court, or for what you have to say for yourself about things".
Tovis isn't at all surprised, it's the prevailing feeling of many a noble in the Harkonin fief. After all he's a commoner, and they're the nobility. It's just the way things are.
So he is surprised when the lord of the Long Reaches quietly tells him "I think I've made a mistake not listening to you, and your ideas about things in the past" he then adds "For that i apologise".
Feeling slightly embarrassed, the young engineer hastily says "That's alright sir, nothing to worry about". The nobleman nods to that, then quietly says "Be that as it may, myself andiothers should listen to what you say more often, after all, you're the baron's war engineer".
Tovis who is curious to know about the change in attitude from the lord of the Long Reaches, asks "Sir if you don't mind me asking you, why the change in attitude to me?".
Lord Sarvaine wryly smiles, then says "Before we left the castle and Maliss, Taevar and that firebrand Dontast told me to listen to you and get your advice on things".
Tovis slightly nods, as sir Taevar the army commander, and especially sir Dontast a knight of Althilgah. Have always treated him like a friend. The only nobles in the fief to do so really.
"They both said you're smarter than most of our officers, even though you're fairly young" says the lord of the Long Reaches, who then dryly adds "Dontast bluntly said you're smarter than most of us nobles too".
Tovis slightly grins as he can well imagine the knight in the order of Althilgah saying something like that. Sir Dontast is well known for being a bit of an upstart about things. It's why he's so popular with the common folk, and the younger members of the nobility, like squire Tamár.
Sir Sarvaine shakes his head, then says "Well enough of that" the nobleman gestures away to the left, then quietly says to the young engineer "Let us find out from that druid's lackey what he can tell us about the enemy, and what they might do" the lord of the Long Reaches then sourly adds "That's if he actually can".
Tovis nods in agreement to that, as he doesn't have any confidence in Maren, and what the druid's apprentice can find out about the enemy, and what direction they might attack the border town of Falshire from . . . . . .

The Homecoming 45.

Out Of Town...

"This is going to hurt, but I've got to take them out" says Mira Reinholt the mage to the troll, who just grunts in response. The once powerful mage continues with "Probably best if you drink the rest of that brandy" followed by "It'll definitely help".
The troll does so, and when he's finished the bottle. He shudders in pain as the mage Reinholt removes the bolts and arrows sticking out of his back, followed by the axe.
"Hold on" says the exiled Vexilian mage, who takes hold of the broken spear shaft in the side of the prone troll, and in one move, pulls it out with expertise.
The troll is in the midst of yelling in pain, as he feels like he's going to black out. When all of a sudden, he no longer feels pain anywhere. The only thing he feels, is an aching tiredness throughout his entire body.
"There you go, all better" says the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, who then adds "You'll probably want to wait a few moments before sitting up".
The troll from the nearby mill grunts, and after a few moments, and a number of deep breaths, he rolls over and slowly sits up. He starts feeling around, and finds no wounds on himself that he can see.
He looks at the man in the black hooded cloak kneeling beside him in the lane, and says "Magician?". "Something like that" says Mira Reinholt, who then asks the troll "Your name?".
"Tarong" replies the mill worker "Well Tarong, i guess that lot won't be bothering you ever again" says the once powerful mage with a nod of his hooded head further down the lane.
The troll grimaces as he sees the bodies lying everywhere, one of them smouldering, or what's left of that one. All of them the soldiers and the local constable who tried to apprehend him for murder. Infact a number of murders, that took place along the south road to Poldaér during the winter.
The mill worker winces, as a body comes flying into the lane from behind one of the buildings, rolling to a stop next to one of the ones already lying there. It's the last of the soldiers who tried to put up a fight against the two men who came to Tarong's aid.
The second one, the one in the full suit of heavy plate armour comes around from that side of the building. The troll glances at the man in the black hooded cloak beside him who quietly says "I'm Mira and that's Farque" he quietly adds in a murmur "Don't call him a knight, he doesn't appreciate that".
"You in one piece then?" asks lord Farque as he looks down at the troll sitting on the ground "I am" replies Tarong, who introduces himself, then thanks his two rescuers.
"Well Tarong, if i was you, I'd get the fuck out of town" says the undead warlord, who continues with "You might not of killed the local constable and these soldiers here, but you're the reason they're dead. And whoever the lord or lady of Almaeré is, they won't be happy".
"They attacked me for no bloody reason" mutters the mill worker, who goes to stand up, but he's a little unsteady on his feet as he tries to get up off the ground. Until the one named Farque takes a hold of his left hand and helps him up off the ground.
Tarong blinks in surprise at how easily the large, heavily armoured human helped him stand up, as if the mill worker didn't weigh a thing.
"How did you do that?" asks the ten and half foot tall troll, who weighs a thousand pounds "It's a gift" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "Like i said, it's probably best if you took off".
"Where will i go?" asks Tarong, who looks around at the town he's spent nearly half his life in, having come here from the northwest, when he was in his middle teen years.
The deathlord of Farque shrugs his heavily armoured shoulders. The swordmaster Reinholt glances at him with a raised eyebrow, and quietly murmurs something in the elven language.
The lord of the death realm doesn't do or say anything for a moment or two, as a lost looking Tarong looks around at what's just happened. Then the undead warlord slightly nods his full helmed head yes to the Vexilian mage in exile.
"You can come with us if you want" says Mira Reinholt, the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, continues with "We're going south to Poldaér".
"That might not be a good idea" says Tarong, who continues with "Like you said, the earl won't be happy with me" he pauses as he looks down at the two humans, then adds "He definitely won't be happy with the two of you".
"Don't worry about us, we'll be fine" says the Vexilian mage in exile, who is glad they came this way, as he didn't think it was right that an innocent individual was going to be executed for a crime he didn't commit.
"And you'll be safe with us for a while" says the highly skilled swordmaster, who pauses as he thinks of the times the unexpected has happened, as he's traveled throughout the Southlands alongside lord Farque and others in the group.
"Well, maybe you'll be safe" adds the once powerful mage "That's for fucking sure" says lord Farque in dry tone of voice. The mage Reinholt nods his hooded head, then says to the mill worker "Besides, traveling south, you might actually be able to clear your name if the actual perpetrator is caught".
"You think so?" asks Tarong "I do" says the mage Reinholt "Enough yapping" interrupts the undead warlord, who gestures around them, as he adds  "The locals are getting nosey". As people look out of doorways and windows, into the lane, to see what's just taken place outside their homes and businesses.
"Get going" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who continues with "We're leaving town". "I've got to get some things from my place" says the troll, who though feels a slight aching, soreness throughout his body, from what he assumes is the result from being healed by spellcraft.
Hurries to the nearby bridge that goes over the stream to the right, which he was heading to, when the earl's constable, and soldiers caught up to him.
As Tarong jogs towards his house, Mira Reinholt and lord Farque follow behind him. The two of them are quietly conversing in elven. With the Vexilian mage in exile explaining to the deathlord of Farque, what he found out by reading the mind of the local constable, before he set the man on fire.
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head as the spellcaster, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, dryly tells him "The earl should probably thank me for getting rid of his constable" the mage Reinholt continues with "That sir Laudác was as corrupt as they come, not to mention lazy".
"Does the earl know he came up here specifically to bring in the troll?" asks Draugadrottin, as he's also known by, to the people of his lands, faraway to the south.
"No" is the reply from the Vexilian mage in exile, who continues with "Though he did tell a few others he knows down at castle Almaeré he was coming up here to either bring in the troll, or kill him". "Probably those who are implicit with his corruption" dryly says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "That's how fucking things seem to go".
"Correct" says the the spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation, found anywhere in the Southlands.
As they approach the house that Tarong has just hurried into, the swordmaster Reinholt says "He didn't bother investigating those deaths along the road" the mage who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil, continues with "You were right, he just went for the easiest target".
The lord of the death realm nods his full helmed head, then he calls out in trollish to Tarong "Hurry up in there troll, we better get going".
After putting on a new vest, and leggings. As the one's he's wearing, are all torn up and bloody. Tarong stuffs more clothing into a large pack, as well as some foodstuffs from his larder. Mostly bread and cheese, and a jar of pickled vegetables, as well as a ham hock he was intending to have for his supper tonight.
He gets a pot helm his father gave him many years ago, and sticks it on his head. Then he takes the axe he has leaning in a corner, as he looks around at his home that's been his for the last three years.
Then the mill worker, who before Malmeré the miller hired him, worked as a forester, cutting down trees and hauling the logs to town, to the mills, such as Malmeré's.
Has one last look around at his home, before hurrying back outside when the one called Farque, calls out to him again in the troll language, to hurry up.
Tarong steps outside, and says "This way" as he points the way to a shortcut to the southside of town, and the road that leads south to the town of Poldaér, the largest settlement in the Almaeré fief, and in all northwestern Druvic really.
As the three of them, the one troll, and the two humans, who are obviously not local, as Tarong has never seen the strangers before until they showed up and saved him. Make their way to the southside of town, the mill worker says in his native language "How do you know trollish?" as he's hardly ever heard a non troll speak it, let alone perfectly, like the man named Farque speaks it.
"I learnt it when i was younger" replies the undead warlord, who nods his full helmed head at the figure in the black hooded cloak walking beside him, and tells Tarong in the language of the trolls "Best to speak common, since Mira here can't understand a word we're saying".
The troll nods his head, and continues to conserve in the common language when he's got something to say. Though at the moment, he's fallen silent, as have the other two, as they hurry out of town, heading for the road that heads south to Poldaér.
They cross a narrow wooden footbridge on the east side of town, that flexes under the weight of the troll. Then cut across a small yard behind one house, then go between a row of buildings, to the last bit of open ground, leading around to the south of town.
They across a knoll, going through some trees, to get down to the road itself, about fifty yards from the town. The trio walk alongside the road, while behind them in the mill town. Both lord Farque and the troll Tarong can hear people shouting, and yelling. Calling out to others, telling anyone who'll listen, what's just happened in the long lane near the north end of town.
"With all that hollering back there, i figure the entire town will soon know what's just happened?" asks Mira Reinholt, lord Farque nods his full helmed head yes, before he walks out infront, and tells the Vexilian mage to keep an eye on the road behind them.
As the heavily armoured deathlord walks a dozen yards infront, the mage Reinholt who walks beside the troll, says to Tarong "Big axe there, have it specially made for you?".
"I did" replies the troll, who continues with "I was a forester before working in the mill, so i had one of the smith's in town make it for me".
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, then says "That helm is troll made" followed by "Get it from where you're originally from?".
Tarong answers yes, then tells the once powerful mage that his father, an armourer in the hill country, in some of the unruled lands to the northwest of the kingdom of Druvic, made it specifically for him.
As the troll tells the once powerful mage of how he came to Druvic as a teenager to work. Hopefully in the airship building yards in the capital Leeabra, where a fair few trolls live and work.
But not getting further than the Almaeré fief, where it was easy for him to get work as a forester. Trolls are always wanted for work, for their immense strength and their ability to work long hours.
The mage Reinholt recalls what he knows about trolls, from first hand experience. As well as what learnt about them during his studies at the mage college of Vexil.
There's two types of trolls, civilized and wild. It's fairly obvious that Tarong is civilized. As he speaks common as well, if not better than a lot humans, especially the common folk here in Druvic.
And like all trolls, he's tall and large. With only ogres, and giants being larger when it comes to the races who are bipeds.
A lot of the civilized trolls end up working in shipyards, both air and sailing ships. Or they end up being mercenaries, or joining armies in the nations they live in.
The highly skilled swordmaster has fought alongside, and against many a troll over the years. And he knows how rough they are, and how difficult it can be to defeat them.
Though for all that, and though he'd hate to admit it. He'd rather have an ork, such as Dorc da Orc on his side in a fight.
Just for the simple fact that orks are plain crazy. Whose insanity, and natural inclination to fight anything and everything, most often themselves. Make them a true terror on the battlefield, or in a scrap.
The mage Reinholt has seen Dorkindle fight larger trolls, killing them with ease. More than one at a time too.
The once powerful mage remembers the large ork telling him about one of his friends in his tribe, a smith, who fought a trio of wild trolls in the massive mountain range that separates the southern polar region from the Southlands. And how he killed all three trolls, even though he lost both of his legs in the process. It's why he's now called No Legs Munga.
The swordmaster Reinholt wryly smiles as recalls the number of times Dorc da Orc would crack up laughing every time he'd tell him the story how he found his friend Munga with his legs chopped off, with three trolls lying dead around him.
And they were wild trolls too! Far larger, meaner, and more aggressive and violent than their civilized brethren. The once powerful mage has encountered the wild kind over the years. And they're way more difficult to deal with than civilized trolls.
Standing back, and killing them with spellcraft is the best way to deal with wild trolls, is what the mage Reinholt has found out over the years.
The highly skilled swordmaster looks up at the troll walking beside him, who asks him what he and lord Farque are doing in the Almaeré fief, here in northwestern Druvic.
The mage Reinholt who tells Tarong, that he's from the city-state of Vexil, and Farque is the lord of a land, faraway to the south in the Southlands. And that they're traveling to the capital Leeabra, then further east in the kingdom of Druvic.
That they've been delayed as they took a slight detour that has seen them end up here in the northwest of the kingdom.
Slight detour alright, Mira Reinholt sourly thinks to himself, the spellcaster who is in exile from his homeland of Vexil, silently adds, from one side of the kingdom to the fucking other thanks to that damn druid's circle.
The once powerful mage along with the troll, continue to chat throughout the afternoon as they walk south along the road to the town of Poldaér, while lord Farque walks out infront of the two of them . . . . . .

The Homecoming 44.

A Lane...

Tarong staggers from the storage building, bleeding from cuts and wounds. Another one comes at him, and he swings the broken plank in his right hand. Connecting with the head of the soldier who is trying to stab him with a shortsword.
The soldier hits the ground. Dead or unconscious. Tarong has no idea. He also doesn't care. As all he wants to do is to get away, and for the madness to end.
The troll, who has been working in the mill for the last three years. Had just finished the midday meal with Garvin and Bassele. Two of the other mill workers.
When some soldiers, from castle Almaeré down in Poldaér if their tabards are anything to go by. Turned up at the mill. Demanding that he go along with them. For what reason, the troll had no idea.
And when Tarong asked why they wanted him. He was told he was wanted for the killing of a half a dozen people in and around the south road that leads to the town of Poldaér.
The troll, who had absolutely no idea what the soldiers were going on about. Nor did his fellow mill workers Garvin and Bassele. Backed away from the soldiers who tried to grab him.
When he did, Tarong saw the soldiers draw their weapons, and from the look in their eyes, they intended to kill him there and then. Instead of taking him in for a public execution as they first stated they would do, for he was guilty of the crimes they have accused him of.
Tarong who as he was going to flee, wasn't all that surprised that Garvin went to intercede on his behalf. The young mill worker was always a bit of a hot head, whose temper was well known around town. When he wasn't at work or at home. He would often get into fights and scuffles.
What did surprise the ten and half foot tall, thousand pound troll. Was Garvin getting cut down by one of the soldiers, as he stood there between them and Tarong, yelling at the soldiers to fuck off, and find the actual person who was responsible for the murders along the south road.
There was a moment's pause as Garvin, with his head almost cut from his body, hit the ground. Then all hell broke lose, with Bassele running, yelling for help. While Tarong picked up one of the planks they'd just brought in from the cutting race, to the storage building, and threw it at the soldiers who rushed him.
Staggering away from the storage building, the troll stumbles as an arrow hits him in the back of the right leg. It doesn't really hurt, it's more of the surprise at getting shot, that caused him to stumble.
He looks back and sees one of the soldiers, blood pouring down his face, struggling to take another shaft from his quiver. Tarong throws the broken plank at him, the soldier tries to dive towards one of the racks in the storage building, to avoid it. But ends up howling in pain as it clips him, breaking his right arm.
The troll staggers away across the yard, he looks up the hill to the right. And sees Malmeré the mill owner, hurrying his wife and children into their home.
Nearby up the hill, Bassele yells at Tarong to run like hell, as he's spotted other soldiers in town, some of whom are heading to the mill on the northern outskirts of town, near the larger of the two streams.
The troll, who has been in this part of the Almaeré fief for nearly half of his life, staggers towards the road, that goes into town, for if he can get to one of the lanes that goes off it before any of the soldiers get close, he can cross one of the bridges, that goes over the larger stream. Which is deeper, and faster flowing than it looks.
As he staggers forward, one foot infront of the other, bleeding from cuts and slashes, and arrow and bolt wounds. Slightly disoriented, not to mention at a complete loss as to why he's been accused of murder, then getting attacked by soldiers from castle Almaeré.
He kind of wishes Malmeré had his mill on the otherside of town. Then he could of fled across the crop fields, and into the forest. Instead of going part way into town, to then get away from it.
Tarong shakes his head at the ridiculous thoughts one has when they've been attacked for no apparent reason, then fleeing for one's life. When he started work this morning, he did not expect today to go the way it has turned out, that's for sure.
Mira Reinholt the mage glances at lord Farque. For though the undead warlord said they wouldn't see what's happening. They're making their way north through town, instead of south to leave it. As they're intending to go to the town of Poldaér, which is two days travel to the south.
The undead warlord briefly stops, and Mira Reinholt the mage quietly asks him "What is it?". "Three people just died in pretty quick succession" replies lord Farque, he gestures in the direction they're going, and adds "On the north edge of town".
The once powerful mage nods in understanding, as he knows those three people have just died in a violent manner. The mage Reinholt figures they're soldiers from castle Almaeré in Poldaér, who they saw in the square a little earlier.
The heavily armoured deathlord nods his full helmed head to continue, and the two of them resume on their way, heading north through the mill town, that's situated around, and between a couple of streams.
As they get further north in the town, the mage Reinholt starts to hear a commotion. Yelling and shouting in the direction they're heading.
The two of them, the spellcaster and swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque. Cut behind a couple of houses, through garden plots, to get to a road. On which, a number of town folk are on, looking north, wondering what's happening.
The exiled Vexilian mage hears a few of them talking about how they saw a short time ago, some of the earl's soldiers from down in Poldaér, making their way to Malmeré's mill.
The spellcaster, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster, glances at the lord of the death realm beside him, who in the tavern they were in a little earlier, told him who it was that worked in the mill on the north side of town.
Mira Reinholt briefly puts a gloved hand on the hilt of the black, bladed sword at his left hip, on his belt.
He does the same, quickly reaching back over his left shoulder, to the unique looking double bladed sword strapped to his back, as he and the undead warlord approach a long lane, beyond which, is one of the bridges that goes over one of the two streams that run through and around town. There's a yell of pain, followed by shouting from around some buildings up ahead in the lane.
Then all of a sudden, a large green figure, comes stumbling around from those buildings, falling to the ground, crushing a wooden bench, and some empty wooden cages used for poultry.
The individual, who must be about ten and half foot tall, who's probably a thousand pounds in weight. Has an axe in his back, and a broken spear in his side, there's quite a few arrows and crossbow bolts in him too. And he's bleeding from various wounds.
He tries to get up, but ends up crawling in the direction of Mira Reinholt and lord Farque, who have come to a stop, and watch the wounded troll coming towards them, as a number of people come hurrying around from the side of buildings, and enter the lane.
They're eight soldiers from castle Almaeré in Poldaér, with them is the constable of the fief. They come to a stop, when they're see their quarry on the ground, crawling along the lane. There's a few chuckles from some of the soldiers. While a couple of others scowl. From one who has blood running down his face, is nursing a broken arm. While the other is scowling as wraps a belt around his left arm, that has blood running down it.
All eight of the soldiers, along with the constable, look up and pause. For though the town folk who were in the lane have fled. There's still two people standing in the lane, looking at them, as the troll on the ground crawls in their direction.
The two men are strangers, obviously not residents of the mill town. One is large, over six and half foot tall, in a dark suit of full plate armour. There's a plain looking mace on his right hip, and the hilt of a massive sword sticking up over his head and left shoulder.
While the other, who is about six foot tall, and is in a black hooded cloak. Has a dark sword on his left hip, and blade sticking up over his left shoulder, while he has a bow over his other shoulder.
The two of them are just standing there, not looking at the troll crawling in their direction. They're looking at the eight soldiers and the constable who have come from castle Almaeré, in the town of Poldaér.
"M'lord" says the constable of the fief to the large, heavily armoured figure standing in the lane "I'm Laudác, constable to earl Almaeré" continues the constable, who gestures at the crawling troll, and adds "Don't let the troll by you, he's wanted for murder".
Mira Reinholt glances sideways at lord Farque, and wonders if the undead warlord will say anything in response to the constable of the fief, who has just spoken to them.
The once powerful mage suspects he will, and he's not at all surprised when the heavily armoured deathlord says to the constable of the fief "Are you sure about that?".
"M'lord?" says constable Laudác after pausing in surprise, then the constable to earl Almaeré says "I can assure you, that Tarong the troll is guilty of murder, infact a number of them, all done this winter on the road between here and Poldaér to the south".
"Are you absolutely sure about that?" asks the undead being who is known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, who glances at the mage Reinholt who has just cast a spell. The exiled Vexilian mage slightly shakes his hooded head no.
"Yes sir knight, I'm absolutely sure that troll is a murderer" says the constable of fief Almaeré.
The highly skilled swordmaster slightly winces when the local constable calls lord Farque a knight.
The once powerful mage hears the lord of the death realm mutter "Fuckhead" at being called a knight by the constable of the fief. Then the undead warlord murmurs something in elven to the Vexilian mage in exile, who slightly nods his hooded head when he hears it.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque then walks forward, then Des'tier as he's known by to an older generation of elven kind who might know he is. Who has brought along the bottle of brandy with him that he purchased in the tavern in the square, that he and Mira Reinholt were in earlier.
Stops right infront of the crawling troll, the deathlord of Farque then says something in a language no one in the lane understands, with the exception of himself, and one other.
Tarong the troll, who has come to a stop on the ground, when after wiping blood from his left eye, and seeing steel boots, and armoured legs just infront of him. Blinks in complete surprise, when someone says to him "Here, drink this. It'll make you feel better".
It's not what was said, but in what language it was said, that's totally taken him by surprise. In was said in trollish, a language he has not heard spoken in over a decade, when he last visited the hill range he's originally from. In the unruled lands, northwest of the kingdom of Druvic.
The troll, looks up and sees a bottle of some kind of alcohol being held down to him. He looks upwards and sees who it is that's standing over him, a tall, for a human anyway, figure in dark blue, black plate armour that covers them from head to foot.
Tarong groans, then says in the language of his birth "I didn't do it". "I know" says the person standing infront of him, who speaks trollish perfectly. Something the mill worker has never encountered before apart from other trolls.
"Here take it" says the heavily armoured figure, who slightly shakes the glass bottle, of what smells like brandy to Tarong. The troll reaches out and takes the bottle, as he hears the voice of the constable of the fief say "Hey, what are you doing there?" followed by "Don't do that" he then adds "Sir knight, step out of the way".
The wounded troll blinks in surprise again as his naturally enhanced hearing picks up the large, heavily armoured figure standing infront of him mutter in common "Shut the fuck up you cunt" in response to what the constable just said.
Then in trollish, he tells Tarong "Don't go anywhere" followed in a slightly dry tone with "Not that you can get that far anyway with the fucked up state you're in".
Then he steps by Tarong, and walks by him, continuing down the lane, behind where the wounded troll lies.
The troll slightly gasps as he feels a wave of heat pass over him, then he hears a scream of pain, that's cut off in an instant. As he lies there, the mill worker hears something burning, and he catches the smell of burning flesh. He gags as he realises it's somebody on fire, then he hears other screaming, as well as shouting and yelling from the soldiers and the constable in the lane.
Tarong as he lies there on his stomach, hurting like hell. Pulls the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, and he takes a drink of the brandy.
The troll who works in one of the mills in town, definitely didn't expect today to go the way it has, when he started work this morning, that's for sure . . . . . .

The Homecoming 43.

Trails, Tracks & Roads...

Mira Reinholt the mage makes his way along a forest trail, that goes down into a valley. The once powerful mage glances up at the sky that was threatening to rain earlier in the morning, just after dawn.
It's now clearing, with clouds moving by, on what's now a windy, and cool late winter's day here in the northwest of the kingdom of Druvic.
The Vexilian mage in exile gets down onto the floor of the valley and rubs his chin as he looks down at the ground. He nods his hooded head when he spots the boot marks in the trail he's following. It's obvious they've been made by steel boots.
Well I'm going the right way at least, Mira Reinholt the mage thinks to himself, who then murmurs "Thank the shape of fire" as he continues on his way along the trail, that's clearly a game trail, as it isn't particularly straight as it goes across the valley through the forest, then goes up the otherside.
The spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster doesn't run into any trouble as he goes through the valley.
Unlike late yesterday afternoon, when he was attacked by large carnivorous rodents, the size of a large dog. He had to spend a bit of magical power to get them to flee, when he set one of the three foot tall giant forest rats on fire.
The once powerful mage shakes his hooded head at the memory of that, then mutters "Giant bloody rats" followed by "Trust me to end up in a forest with those things".
The swordmaster Reinholt makes his way up the otherside of the valley, and sees that the trail joins a track. The exiled Vexilian mage looks downhill and spots another road in the distance through the trees, he nods his hooded head when he sees it, where he more or less expected it to be.
Mira Reinholt starts walking down the track towards the road. It's mid morning when he finally gets to the road, which is churned up in places by hoof prints, and wheel tracks.
The highly skilled swordmaster heads east along the road, keeping to the side of it, where the ground is more firm, and not too muddy.
The mage Reinholt doesn't see too much in the way of wildlife as he walks next to the road, just birds flitting through the nearby treetops as the day warms up despite the windy conditions.
He continues along the forest road for a little while, when it starts going up a rise, he spots a large, heavily armoured figure standing at the top of the rise waiting for him.
The once powerful mage joins lord Farque at the top of the rise, and says "Another town i see" as he looks further east, Mira Reinholt then adds "A bit bigger too".
The town in question is about a quarter of a mile away. Another mill town, like the previous two they've stopped at. Though this one is much bigger as it's near a couple of converging streams. One you could almost describe as a river.
The forest is bit further away from this town too. With fields to one side of it, and though there's hedges that's along sides of the fields, the fields have obviously been planted for winter crops. And is being tilled for upcoming planting in the early spring.
The undead warlord nods his full helmed head towards some open ground between the fields and the town. The mage Reinholt frowns as he sees a couple of low wooden platforms built just a few feet off the ground there. As well as massive tree stumps near them, with heavy ropes coiled upon the massive trunks.
The once powerful mage blinks in surprise, then nods in understanding when lord Farque quietly says to him "For airships".
"Maybe one will come in soon, and we can catch a lift to the capital" muses the swordmaster Reinholt "Let's hope" says the heavily armoured deathlord, who then nods his full helmed head towards the milling town about a quarter of a mile away, and adds "Come along then".
They're in the fief of the Almaeré family, the northern most, not to mention, the western most fief in the kingdom of Druvic. It's also one of the largest fiefs in the kingdom. Though also one of the least influential ones. As it so far from the capital Leeabra, and the only thing produced out here of any value, is wood for building.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque and the spellcaster and swordmaster from Vexil head to town, passing an empty heavy wagon, drawn by a team of four large horses, heading back west, after bringing in a load of felled trees to town for milling.
The wagon driver, and the other man sitting on the wagon seat. Can't help but stare at the two walking to the side of the road, heading towards town. It's not everyday you see armoured men, one especially so in full heavy plate armour. In these parts. Especially strangers, who aren't soldiers in the army of the fief.
Speaking in elven as they near the town, Mira Reinholt quietly says "Think this is the town north of Poldaér" he continues with "If we can't catch an airship here, we'll definitely have better luck down there".
The lord of the death realm nods in agreement, for Poldaér is a large town, almost a city actually. That's the largest settlement in the far west of the kingdom. It's also where castle Almaeré is located. Where the nobleborn family who has ruled this fief for many generations, make their home.
"See if you can find anything out" says lord Farque as they enter town, going pass one of the mills. Where a wheel, driven by water from one of the streams, cuts logs into planks. Mostly used for building, but occasionally good quality wood from the area is used in furniture making.
The two of them go their separate ways after the deathlord of Farque quietly tells the swordmaster from Vexil "Meet in that square over there at midday". "Will do" says Mira Reinholt, who continues along the road that goes through the middle of town, while the undead warlord turns into a lane, on either side of which, is a mix of shops and homes.
Nearing midday, the mage Reinholt, after speaking to the owner of a trading post, that deals mostly with trappers, hunters and foresters. Heads to the square where he's to meet up again with the heavily armoured deathlord.
The once powerful mage spots a small tavern on one corner of the square, the establishment is fairly quiet even though it's close to serving the midday meal. The swordmaster Reinholt finds out why, when he orders something and is told the price. Which is far too much for this part of the kingdom. But would fit right in with some of the better quality establishments in the capital Leeabra.
Hell, no wonder you're not that busy, the exiled Vexilian mage thinks to himself as he looks towards the owner of the small tavern who is at the bar, the mage Reinholt silently adds, if you charge that much for ale, it's a wonder you're still in business.
The highly skilled swordmaster is at the small front table, at the window, which he's opened one side of the shutters of, so he can look out onto the square.
No other customer has complained about the wind blowing in through the open window. It helps that there's only two of them, and they're seated together at the table, behind the far end of the bar. Well away from the front of the tavern where Mira Reinholt is sitting.
It's not too long before lord Farque shows up and enters the small tavern, he sits down at the small table the Vexilian mage in exile is sitting at. Though he sits against the wall to the side of the tavern, that runs opposite the bar.
While the highly skilled swordmaster faintly winces, and the undead warlord slightly pauses when the serving woman tells the heavily armoured figure the price of the fortified spirits. Which the lord and ruler of the lands orders a bottle of, handing over a couple of golds, then muttering in elven to the mage Reinholt "Hell, that fucking brandy better be worth it".
The spellcaster, who at seventeen was the youngest ever member of the mage council of Vexil quietly says in elven to the heavily armoured deathlord "It's not likely we'll see an airship anytime soon". "I know" says the undead being who is also know as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
The two of them have both found out that airships only turn up sporadically at this time of the year, to pick up wood to take to other parts of the kingdom, and beyond.
They're more regular in the late spring, through the summer and into autumn. Giving time for the cut wood to season and dry out.
They're more likely to catch an airship in the large town of Poldaér to the south. Where actual passenger ships fly to and from. As well as the usual wood carrying cargo ships that ply their trade in this region of Druvic.
The mage looks out the open window, sipping his ale as lord Farque lifts the visor of his full helm, and drinks from a small tumbler of brandy that he pours from a bottle.
"Fine, but no way is it worth two fucking golds" says the lord of the death realm, who pours another small tumblers worth of the fortified spirits, while the once powerful mage continues to look out of the window, sipping his ale, making sure not to look at the undead warlord.
The two of them chat for a while, and as the swordmaster Reinholt's meal is delivered, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque shuts the visor of his full helm, after finishing drinking the second tumblers worth of brandy.
Mira Reinholt as he eats some rather nice ham, far too expensive like everything else in the small tavern, quietly asks in elven "Should we get some horses and ride down to Poldaér?" he continues with "There's a trading post nearby, and the owner has mounts for sale in his stables".
"Maybe" says lord Farque, who isn't that keen to ride a mount, that isn't trained to carry a heavily armoured rider. As he knows a trading post in a town in the middle of a forest, in the most remote region in Druvic, is highly unlikely to have a warhorse for sale.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, is just about to say something else about traveling south to Poldaér, when instead he quietly says "What's this then?".
As he sees riders make their way into the square outside. There's a dozen of them, soldiers all. Either in service to the local noble, or they're in the fief army from down in Poldaér.
Lord Farque opens the other window shutter, and he sees the riders out in the square too, who have dismounted. There's another rider with them, a noble by his attire. And the deathlord of Farque who can easily hear the conversations of the riders on the otherside of the square, says to the mage Reinholt "The constable from Poldaér".
The once powerful mage nods his hooded head, then the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, who wears an amulet so he can't be sensed by other practitioners of magic, casts a spell so he can listen in on the conversation between the constable of the fief, and the squad of soldiers he's brought with him from Poldaér and castle Almaeré.
They're looking for someone, and Mira Reinholt slightly frowns as hears the name of the person they're searching for "Tarong" murmurs the highly skilled swordmaster, who then asks "What type of name is that?". It sounds a little too orkish in his opinion.
"Troll" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who then adds "There's one working in one of the mills on the far side of town, near the larger stream over there".
The mage Reinholt nods his hooded head, then murmurs "Wonder why they want him?". A few moments later, he gets his answer, as the squad from Poldaér move out, in search for who they're after.
Seems there's been some murders during this winter further south, between here and Poldaér, which is two days travel to the south. The prime suspect is the troll Tarong. Though no actual sighting of him being anywhere near one of the murder sites has been witnessed.
That's what the Mira Reinholt and lord Farque overhear from some of the soldiers who have come from castle Almaeré.
"You'd think a great big bloody troll would of been seen at the site of a murder, it's not that fucking hard to miss one" says the Vexilian mage in exile, the undead warlord nods his full helmed head in agreement, then says "That's because he didn't do it".
Mira Reinholt glances at the heavily armoured deathlord, who tells him "They just want an easy target, and the troll is good enough i suppose" he continues with "Bet the local nobles have been bitching to whoever the lord is down in Poldaér, and they want action on the matter".
Lord Farque nods to the square outside, where the constable and a few of the soldiers are just leaving, and he continues with "So the constable has come up here to find the easiest target to pin these murders on, and bring him in for a public execution, to appease both nobles and commoners alike" Des'tier as he's known to an older generation of elven kind, then dryly adds "The laziest kind of fucking ruling you can get".
The Vexilian mage in exile nods his hooded head in agreement, then says "Should we do something about it?".
The undead warlord shrugs his broad, heavily armoured shoulders, and says "Why?" followed by "It's got nothing to do with us" lord Farque then adds "We've got our own fucking problems, like getting back to the otherside of the kingdom to find the others, and to find that fucking engineer we've come here to find in the first place".
Mira Reinholt slowly nods to that, as he knows the heavily armoured deathlord is correct. Though he has a disquieting feeling that an innocent individual is going to be killed for something he hasn't done . . . . . .