The Hire 129.

The Duchy Of Phelm...

Beldane the cleric finds himself waking up. The cleric in the church of Glaine opens his eyes, and sees the clear blue afternoon sky above him.
He blinks, then winces as his head slightly hurts from being knocked out.
The powerful cleric feels his mace in his right gauntleted hand. And figures the magical weapon must of saved him.
Because the last thing he remembers is being in the middle of an explosion created by a mageglobe. And being flung backwards off the top of the north wall of the city of Almaic.
The member of the church of Glaine turns his head to the left, and blinks again. Though this time in surprise.
"Damn" murmurs Beldane the cleric as he sees where he is.
That powerful cleric is on a small hill, overlooking the farming village of Duste. A village more than forty miles from the city of Almaic. To the south and east of the city that's the capital of the duchy of Phelm.
Beldane knows the village well, as he spent a couple of years here when he was first made a cleric. And had to go out and administer to the people of Phelm.
He was sent here by the church when he was just nineteen. And though fairly young, and from Almaic. He was quickly accepted by the people of Duste and the surrounding countryside.
The powerful cleric would often come up here to this very hill. And watch both the sunrise and sunset from up here. Something he would enjoy.
And something he rarely does nowadays, now that he's based in Almaic, the capital of the duchy.
Beldane sits up, and shakes his head to help clear it, then he faintly smiles and murmurs "Still remember it do you?" as he looks at his mace, which has brought him here to safety.
Still with the smile upon his face, the cleric in the church of Glaine returns his magical weapon to the loop on his belt.
And though he sits there for a little while, as he's a little stiff and sore after being blown up. Not to mention falling backwards through a gateway that his mace created. He's soon up on his feet and looking around.
He spots a number of field hands out across some of the farms on the otherside of the village of Duste.
Though not as many as their would normally be. Even at this time of the year, summer.
That powerful cleric figures quite a few of them would've joined the duke's army, in the war against the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains. Who have invaded the duchy of Phelm.
The member of the church of Glaine takes a few deep breaths, glad to be alive. Then after a silent prayer of thanks to his god.
The powerful cleric makes his way down the hill to the village. To check on the people there, who he once  administered to.
After he does, he'll return to the city of Almaic as his mace will cast another gateway. One that'll reach the city that's the provincial capital.
Appearing on a hill, not bothering to blur himself at this moment. Helbe the elven thief as he looks away to the southeast, asks "Can you sense him yet?".
"Not yet" says Narladene the ground pixie, which causes the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel to slightly grimace.
As he knows the tiny winged creature standing upon his right shoulder can sense anything magical, including spellcasters, in excess of twenty miles. Though spells themselves, she can sense much further.
"You know, if you could teleport a bit further than you can, we'd probably be there by now" dryly says the naturally magical creature who is originally from the Sunreach Mountains.
The elven magic user, whose levels of power are distinctly average. Especially considering he's from a royal elven family. Not just any elven royals too. But the Raendril family of Laerel.
Some of the most powerful practitioners of magic, not just in elfdom. But in all the world of Volunell.
Especially his grandfather, Prince Raendril himself. Who is certainly the most powerful elven spellcaster in the entire world.
"Well, i can't exactly do anything about that" dryly says the elven princeling, who though isn't exactly powerful when it comes to magic. Makes up for it other ways. As he's extremely talented. Who though rather young for a royal elf. At just under two hundred and twenty years old. Which is the equivalent of a very young teen if he was human.
Has invented numerous new spells. When most practitioners of magic never create a brand new spell in their entire lifetime.
And he has the unique skill of being able to cast multiple spells at the same time. When most spellcasters struggle to have a pair of spells going at once. Three if they've got more skill than average.
While the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel has cast more than a dozen spells at once in the past. Making him a formidable opponent for other practitioners of magic.
Not to mention he has his unique power, which isn't magical in the normal sense of things. The power of foresight.
Which has led him to here, to this hill in the southeast of the duchy of Phelm. About fifteen miles from the city of Almaic. Which at this time is under attack by the armies of the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains. Led by the Farqian mercenary army. Which prince Helbenthril Raendril is part of.
The elven masterthief who is a member of the personal council of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque is about to teleport again, when Narladene says to him "Have you thought of what you're going to tell him?".
"The cleric?" asks the elven magic user "Not him" dryly says the tiny winged creature, who then adds "I mean him".
The elven master assassin grimaces as he knows exactly who the ground pixie is referring to, and he says to her "Not exactly".
"Well, when you do tell him" says Narladene, who continues with "Best you tell him quickly, then leave even quicker" she briefly pauses before adding "Because he's not going to be happy about it, that's for sure".
"Understatement of the fucking century there" dryly murmurs prince Helbenthril Raendril in the royal elven language which the naturally magical creature doesn't understand.
Then switching back to the normal elven language, which he and Narladene usually converse in, the elven master archer says "He's not exactly the happiest of individuals to begin with" he then adds "It's going to put him in an even fouler mood than he's already in".
Narladene nods her tiny head in agreement with the young elven noble she's attached to. An attachment that began a dozen years ago in the city of Leeabra, the capital of the kingdom of Druvic.
The elven princeling from Laerel nods his hooded head as he sourly says "A cleric of all things" followed by "I couldn't of picked a worst person to join the group if I'd tried".
Helbe the elven thief then adds "By the forest gods, Mira doesn't like them either" he continues with "Admittedly for other reasons". Those reasons being professional differences. As the once powerful mage doesn't like the way in which clerics go about casting.
"Well, they'll have to find a way to get along" says Narladene, who after momentarily pausing, continues with "I mean Mira and this cleric, because lets face it, we all know the lord and the cleric will not get along at all".
Helbe the elven thief nods to that, then he disappears as he teleports away, with the naturally magical creature attached to him, clinging onto his right shoulder.
The member of lord Farque's personal council, reappears three miles further away to the east and south. On a farm, in a field. Just near the road that goes through this part of the duchy of Phelm.
The highly talented elven magic user is just about to ask the ground pixie if she can sense for the cleric named Beldane, who they're searching for. When Narladene tells him "Airship away to the east and north".
"It's not?" asks the councilor "It isn't the strikeship" replies the naturally magical creature.
Relieved at that, prince Helbenthril Raendril asks "One of ours, or one of theirs?".
"I'm not sure" says the tiny winged creature, who then adds "Whose ever it is, it's a warship, as i can sense spellcasters and magetubes onboard".
The elven master assassin nods, then shifts into the sky, to see if he can spot the airship that Narladene has sensed.
They both look in the direction the ground pixie has sensed the airship, and they spot the flying vessel about ten miles away to the north.
After looking at it for a few moments, the elven master assassin says "One of ours" as he recognises the warship.
"Most likely patrolling the area for any of the duke's other vessels" adds the elven magic user as he floats there a few hundred feet above the ground.
The naturally magical creature originally from the Sunreach Mountains nods her head, then says to the elven master archer "Maybe you could tell them, and they could pass it onto the strikeship and little Kai, er the lord".
Good idea, the young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel thinks to himself, who is not looking forward to telling lord Farque about his latest revelation from his powers of foresight.
Narladene, who isn't looking forward to it either, it's why she's been suggesting other ways to tell the undead warlord about the cleric the two of them are searching for.
Senses away to the south and east, in the direction the gateway spell the cleric went through back in the city of Almaic, led to.
She briefly narrows her eyelids, then says to the elven masterthief "Drop back down to the ground" followed by "I think I've found him".
Helbe the elven thief shifts back to the ground, and the naturally magical creature drops off his right shoulder, and flutters down to the ground.
There she senses, not just magically. But also feeling through the ground. Where she can feel movement for miles all around.
After a few moments, she nods her tiny head, then makes her way back up to the right shoulder of the elven princeling she's attached to.
"Found him" says Narladene the ground pixie, who then explains to the elven magic user "Feels like he's in a small town or village".
The elven master archer nods his hooded head, and after glancing away to the north east, where one of the airships in lord Farque's fleet is flying, quietly says "Looks like I'll have to tell him myself".
The tiny winged creature nods to that, then she senses the young elven magic user is about to cast. And a couple of moments later they disappear as once again he teleports them away, heading south and east, to where the cleric they're searching for is located.
After meeting with some of the villagers who he knows. Who are all glad to see him again. And who all want to know about the war against the robber barons of the unruled lands in the Colevar Mountains, who have invaded their kingdom, and the duchy of Phelm.
With many of them wondering why the king himself hasn't sent any of his army north to help duke Hargen and the duchy Phelm.
And he has to tell them he doesn't know why that hasn't happened. Even though he actually does know. But lies for king and country. For the simple reason it's best not tell the locals. That their duchy of Phelm is seen as just a buffer between the rest of the kingdom of Nastell, and the unruled lands to the north of it.
And that whoever is upon the throne of the kingdom over the years has always thought like that. As they use the largest duchy in the kingdom as a shield for the rest of the nation.
Beldane the cleric who doesn't want to seem traitorous to the king, and speak ill of him. As he actually likes the current monarch, who happens to be a supporter of the church of Glaine. Who actually visited the duchy of Phelm and the city of Almaic a few years ago. The first visit by a current monarch of the kingdom to Phelm in over fifty years.
After speaking with some of the villagers, and looking at the small church and house attached to it, where he used to live and work. Where a priest in his church now administers to the villagers of Duste and surrounding countryside.
Makes his way out of the village, followed by a few of the locals who knew him best when he lived here.
"What will you do?" asks the blacksmith Delbor "Return to the capital" says Beldane the cleric who continues with "The battle is still going on there, and i must return to help those fighting against the invaders from north of the border".
The four with him, the blacksmith, along with the Marpel who owns the trading post in Duste. The old baker Smarn. And the widow Sarah. Who truth be told, if Beldane wasn't a member of the church. He'd romantically pursue. As she widowed young, and is around the same age as him. And though relationships are not discouraged by his church. Marriage of members with lay people is prohibited. And is outright disallowed for senior members of the church such as a fighting cleric like Beldane.
They head up the small hill to the east of Duste, and Delbor says "Well, at least you're keeping your armour in good knick" he then adds in a dry tone "Unlike when you lived here".
The cleric laughs, for when he was younger, he was rather forgetful in his upkeep of his equipment.
Beldane, who is still under thirty, and first came here nine years ago when he was nineteen, says "When the church made me a fighting cleric, i had to change my attitude" he then adds "For the better i hope".
"It has" quietly says the young window Sarah, the others fall silent, but they all agree with her. Whilst Beldane feels slightly embarrassed at that assessment from the young widow. Who he hasn't seen in seven years, who he still feels an attraction to.
They get to the top of the hill, and look in the direction of the capital which is just over forty miles away.
And as Beldane takes his mace from his belt loop, he says "It was good to see you all again".
They reply in kind, then old Smarn says "Glaine be with you father". "And with you my son" replies the powerful cleric, who adds "With all of you".
And with a smile for the young widow Sarah, Beldane steps back and goes to use his magical weapon to create a gateway back to the city of Almaic. Nothing happens.
He frowns and looks at his mace, and tries again. Once again nothing happens.
"Damn" mutters the fighting cleric under his breath, then he sighs after trying again with his mace to create a gateway, and nothing happens.
He sourly smiles as he looks at the magical weapon, which has a mind of it's own at times. And one of those times it seems is right now. As it won't create a gateway for him.
Looking at the four villagers watching him, the cleric Beldane says in a slightly dry tone "Looks like I'll be staying here for a bit" . . . . . .