The Lost Ones 6.

Summer. Western Southlands. The Maldin Hills.

Sir Percavelle Lé Dic looks down, and nods his full helmed head when Lisell Maera the messenger says "They definitely came this way south".
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, hops back onto her horse after looking at the dry and dusty trail they're on.
Then the two of them continue on their way as they travel north.
They've crossed over to the eastern side of the Maldin Hills. The side of the range that's even more drier looking than the western side.
Though it isn't as hot over here during the afternoon, as there's a lot more shade. Though in the mornings, with the sun directly hitting it, one figures it will be much hotter than it is over on the western side of the hill range.
The two of them who rested during the heat of the day, continue down the trail, that they see in the distance leads to one of the many roads that crisscross the Maldin Hills.
They've seen no one this afternoon, apart from some herders in the distance, downhill. Moving their sheep to lower pasture.
Once they're on the road at the end of the trail. Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group.
Stops and takes out the map of the area that Tamric Drubine the field commander gave her. After looking at it carefully, the messenger in the armies of Farque says "The old mining town isn't all that far away".
"Pray tell do you think many souls still live there?" asks sir Percavelle Lé Dic who then adds a "Wot".
"I'm not sure" answers the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, who continues with "If they are, probably best not to mention we wiped out most of those who turned to raiding".
She then adds in a dry tone of voice "They might not take too kindly to that" which causes the heavily armoured knight to guffaw in mirth.
They set off along the hillside road, heading north. With the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, relatively comfortable in the slightly cooler temperatures over on this side of the hill range as they ride north.
Parts of the road are in shadow at this time of the day, and Lis finds it a relief not to be wiping her forehead all the time with a forearm as is often the case over on the otherside of the hill range.
The two of them, the messenger and the former paladin are riding side by side, and sir Percavelle Lé Dic or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well, stands up in the saddle as he looks away along the road, then he says "I do believe there it is there wot".
Lis stands in the saddle too, and spots the small mining town further along the road they're on.
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands, whose mother was a street prostitute, and whose father, a man she never knew or met, was a sailor. Nods her head, and after a few moments, quietly says "Looks like people are still there".
The messenger in the armies of Farque, who knows the raiders who survived the failed attack upon the village that the group are living in. Won't of got back to the mining town yet. As they're on foot, and probably won't get back here until sometime tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. That's if they even return to the mining town.
She quietly says "We'll see if they know of her" followed by "Or if she's in one of the two villagers that they had already attacked".
"Yes indeed" says the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che, who continues on with "It is proving rather difficult to locate this woman wot" the former knight of the first class then dryly adds "Sometimes i wonder if she is even real, due to how elusive she is to locate".
Lisell Maera nods, as she understands the sentiment. For the woman who was revealed to Helbe the elven thief by way of his powers of foresight before he and the others disappeared through a rift/void spell.
Has proven difficult to locate. Though it's not been helped that the only information the elven masterthief gave of her location, was the Maldin Hills.
And though they have a detailed description and name of the woman, and even seen an image of her, as the elven magic user showed them what she looked like before he and the others disappeared.
The rather general location of the Maldin Hills, has proven to make things difficult for the five of them who didn't disappear through the rift/void with the rest of the group.
They approach the mining town, and see that the ramshackle looking place is smaller than the village they're living in at the moment. And for that matter, smaller than most of the villages they've seen during their travels through the Maldin Hills.
There's a wagon track that leads up the hill to the northwest, to the mine entrance about a hundred yards away.
There's no wagons on it this afternoon, and it doesn't look like there's been one on it for months, if not years.
Well, i guess that's why they turned to raiding, Lis thinks to herself, as she looks towards the mine up the hill.
Then the messenger in the armies of Farque who is originally from the city-state of Brattonbury, looks around at the town as they ride into it.
The place is rundown to say the least. And that's a fairly generous description for it. As most of the dwellings look like they could fall down at any moment now.
With only a couple of buildings, that look to be much older, which are more sturdier looking. And look like they could stand for at least a few more centuries.
The attractive young woman from coast of the Southlands figures they were built by the original inhabitants and miners, who first dug out the mine.
And she nods for Percy to follow her as she rides over to one of those buildings, as they look at those who still inhabit this old mining town, here on the eastern side of the hill range.
A handful of people have come out to watch them as they dismount, and tie their horses up at a rail infront of the sturdy and solid looking building.
For the most part the people are either older, or very young. And they're not hillmen. But have the looks of those from the lowlands between the Maldin Hill country, and the coast.
Infact a lot of them are similar in colouring to Lis herself. Though for the most part, they're more fair haired than she is.
The messenger catches sight of a few hillmen, hillwomen to be exact. Most likely taken from the two villages to the northeast that were raided by some of the inhabitants of the old mining town.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury figures that she and the others have pretty much wiped out every able bodied man who lived here.
And that this old mining town, which if it wasn't doomed already, will not exist for much longer.
Looking at a couple of small children playing on the dusty ground nearby. Lis wonders if she's sealed their fate. She probably has, but there's nothing she can do about it. As their fathers by their actions, doomed them anyway.
"Such is life" murmurs the messenger in the elven language, then she quietly says in common to the large, heavily armoured knight "There's some hillmen or women i should say, in that house over there, sneaking a look at us".
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, where he was once the earl of his family's fief. Has just looked into the building they're infront of and found it empty.
He looks to the dwelling Lis has indicated, and sourly smiles as he tells her in a dry tone "That's if it doth not fall down as we walk to it".
The messenger in the armies of Farque nods, as the house is more than a little dilapidated. One good wind storm could very well blow it over.
Lis and Percy make their way over to it, with the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands quietly telling the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic "I'll do the talking Percy".
The member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che reluctantly agrees with a grunt. Much to the relief of the messenger.
As she knows the former paladin and his overbearing manner, and boisterous voice can overwhelm most people. Especially people they're trying to get information from.
As they approach the house, they hear people scurrying about as they near it.
Lis knocks on the wide slat door, where they can see through the gaps in the slats.
As Percy stands behind the messenger, and looks with disapproval at the standard of the building.
The attractive young woman waits for someone to approach the otherside of the door. Which she sees someone eventually do after she knocks on it again.
The door slightly opens, and Lis says in the hillmen dialect "Greetings". The messenger who has learnt a few basic phrases and words in the language of the hillmen of Maldin, switches to the common language, and says "May we come in".
The woman, in her mid thirties, eyes up the messenger, then she looks a little nervously at the large, heavily armoured figure standing behind her.
"We mean you no harm" quietly says the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, who now serves in the armies of Farque.
After a moments pause, the hillwoman nods, then says in her accented common "You may come in".
The messenger, followed by the former paladin, enter the small dwelling, where they find two other hillwomen. Much younger, younger than even Lis. Both teenagers, one of whom is in the early stages of pregnancy.
"We wondered if you could help us with something" quietly says Lisell Maera as she looks at the two younger woman, then the older one in her thirties who bade her and Percy enter.
"But first" quietly says the messenger, who follows that with "I understand you're from the villages further to the northeast" she briefly pauses then adds "Taken from there?".
It's the older woman who answers with a nod and says "We are" followed by "My daughter Salma" indicating the younger of the two teens "And Sersha, Malna's daughter here" who is the older one, about sixteen, who is pregnant.
"Were taken in the spring by these miners" says the hillwoman, who says the word miners in disgust.
Lis nods, then after quickly looking out a shonky looking window that has no shutters, she quietly says "You no longer have to fear them" she then adds "They're all dead, well most of them are".
The pregnant teenage girl lets out a sob, one of relief not heartbreak.
While a look of relief crosses the face of the older hillwoman, and her daughter Salma straight out grins in pleasure.
The messenger in the armies of Farque quickly tells them what's happened. And after telling them of the demise of the raiders who lived in this old mining town, she says "We were wondering if you know of someone".
She then tells them the name of the woman they're looking for, and a detailed description of her.
"No one by that name in our village" says the hillwoman in her mid thirties, whose name is Gretta, she continues with "Don't know as if I've heard of anyone by that name in the village further to the east of ours as well".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic grunts in disappointment, while Lisell Maera just nods, then the two of them take interest again when Gretta tells them "There be quite a few farm and croft holders further north along the roads, that continue up beyond our village and the next one along" she then adds "There's dozens and dozens of the places, and she could live on one of them".
Lis and Percy share a look. And the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands nods. And the former earl of Lé Dic says "Hmmm could be".
"Could be" quietly agrees the messenger with a nod of her head.
They stay the night, guests of Gretta and the two teenagers Salma and Sersha. Sharing an evening meal, though the two of them sleep outside on their blankets. Mostly because it's cooler, and because Percy doesn't trust the dwelling, which in his opinion, could fall down at any moment.
They leave early in the morning, well before dawn with Gretta, Salma and Sersha who have decided to leave.
Two other hillwomen who were captured, left just after the raiders decided to go south. And with no one to stop them, they left with ease.
They would of left too, but Sersha has been having trouble with morning sickness over the last couple of weeks, which has cleared up over the last few days.
She's fine to travel, and they pack what little possessions and food they have, and accompany the messenger in the armies of Farque, and the former paladin.
Lis lets the pregnant teenager ride on her horse which she leads. While Percy lets Gretta and her daughter Salma alternatively ride on his mount. Which is fine by him, as he doesn't entirely trust the horse as it's not battle trained. Nor is it accustomed to having a large, heavily armoured man upon it.
The former knight of the first class in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che only took this particular horse, because it was the one his bitter rival, the ork warleader Dorc da Orc, kept eyeing up.
No doubt to do something nefarious and wicked to it, in the opinion of the the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
The travel from well before dawn, to after midmorning, covering the eight miles or so to the village that the hillwomen are from.
Once there, and the villagers are overjoyed that last three missing women from their village have finally returned.
And when Lis and Percy, are finally able to ask around about the whereabouts of the woman they're searching for.
They get a bit of luck, from a young man, who like many in the Maldin Hills, is taken by the beauty of the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury.
He's originally from a farm further to the northeast, beyond the next village. And he tells them that he has heard of a woman by that name. Who lives even further to the northeast. At the very northern tip of the hill country, where it turns to the east.
He's never seen her, but he guesses she might be around the age of the woman they're searching for.
"Someone with such an odd name, and around the age she's supposed to be" says Lisell Maera to sir Percavelle Lé Dic when they finally get some quiet time away from the hillmen of this village, who are more than appreciative that they returned Gretta, Sersha and Salma. Not to mention wiping out most of the raiders from the old mining town to the south.
"I doubt there's two people like that up there in that part of the hill country" adds the messenger, who is part of the scouts and rangers divisions in the armies of Farque.
"Tis no mere coincide alright" says the Druvician nobleman in agreement, who looks towards the road that heads north out of this particular hillside village, and he continues with "Verily shall we pursue this lead to the north?" he follows that with "Or return and inform the others?" he briefly pauses before adding a "Wot".
Lis doesn't even have to think about it, and she says "We'll go north and find out for ourselves" the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands continues with "Even if it isn't her, at least we'll know we haven't wasted our time going back to tell Tam and others, before heading back this way to try and find her".
"My sentiments exactly young Lis" says the middle aged knight from the kingdom of Druvic, who has been in his order for over thirty years now, having first joined when he was just fourteen.
They rest in the village throughout the hottest part of the day, and leave well after the middle of the afternoon. Taking a fair bit of food and supplies, that the villagers willingly give them.
The two of them take the road that takes them to the north out of the village, which turns northeast, as the hill range turns that way.
They figure they'll be in the next village by dusk or early evening. They'll stop there for the night. And in the morning they'll continue on their way, heading further to the northeast.
In search for the woman, they and the rest of the group, who didn't get sucked into a rift/void spell. Came here to the Maldin Hills to find . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 5.

Summer. Elsewhere.

"Fuck" mutters lord Farque who stands there looking down at the body of Arvelle Ganard the plainsman.
Behind the visor of his full helm, the undead warlord sourly smiles. While fifty yards behind him. An airship that's hit the ground, is on fire.
The heavily armoured deathlord looks to the right as Tovis the war engineer and Beldane the cleric make their way over, hurrying, jumping over some of the dead who are scattered across the ground.
The two of them wince when they see the tall plainsman with the shaved head lying dead on the ground.
The lord and ruler of the lands of Farque looks out to sea, where another of the airships has hit, and is sinking beneath the warm tropical water.
"Any of their airships left?" asks the deathlord of Farque.
Looking up into the clear, blue morning sky, Tovis the war engineer says "One".
The young engineer who is originally from the kingdom of Druvic in the Southlands, slightly winces as there's an explosion in the air, and the part of the starboard side of the airship in question is blasted away.
"Well" says Tovis, who briefly pauses then adds "There was one". As the badly damaged airship starts to drop out of the sky.
The undead warlord, who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands, doesn't even bother to turn and watch the doomed airship head towards the ground.
Instead he looks to the right again, and a moment later Helbe the elven thief appears.
The young elven noble quickly walks over, and wonders why the others are just standing around in the middle of the battle.
When he spots the body of Arvelle Ganard the plainsman lying on the ground.
"Fuck" mutters Helbe the elven thief, while in the distance, the last of the Viceroy's airships plows into the ground. Not that any of them watch it do so.
The young elven noble from the island principality of Laerel, that lies off the coast of the Southlands, sighs as he looks at the dead plainsman, who is missing at least half of his head. Which was hit by an axe of one of the Viceroy's soldiers.
"Well, at least there's plenty of bodies to choose from" says the elven magic user in the royal elven language to lord Farque.
The heavily armoured deathlord grunts, then he looks around as they're in relatively calm spot in the battle that's definitely turned the Sultan's way.
"Look for a suitable body" says the lord and ruler of the lands Farque in the royal elven language, he continues in a dry tone of voice with "One that's relatively intact, he'll fucking moan and bitch if he comes back missing an arm or a leg".
The grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel faintly smiles at that, as does Narladene the ground pixie who is on his right shoulder.
Then the elven master assassin, who is a member of the personal council to lord Farque, looks around at the progress of the battle, and asks in the common language "Where's Mira?".
"Still with the Sultan" replies Tovis the war engineer, Beldane the cleric nods in agreement.
"He likes to keep him close" adds the young engineer who served in the army of a baron Harkonin in his homeland of Druvic, before he joined the group.
"I can't imagine why" dryly says prince Helbenthril Raendril, who glances sideways at lord Farque, who doesn't say anything at the mention of the mage Reinholt. Who is the reason they're here in the first place.
At least we're not offworld, that's something i guess, the elven masterthief dryly thinks to himself, who spots Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy walking this way through the smoke of the nearby burning airship.
As if Mira Reinholt wasn't even mentioned, lord Farque says "I was hoping for one of those airships".
Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head in understanding. As an airship would solve a lot of their problems.
As returning to the Southlands would be a hell of a lot easier by airship than by any other way. Especially considering they're not going to get back the way they got here.
"Maybe the Sultan will give us one of his" says the young elven noble as Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy joins the rest of them.
"Not that he's got many, since the Viceroy nicked most of them" adds the highly talented elven spellcaster, who as he looks around, says "Still, we've pretty much won this battle for him, so you never know".
They see some of the Viceroy's men down on the beach, who look their way. And think better of it, and continue along the beach. As there's scores of their fellow soldiers lying dead around the group. Not to mention a burning airship just fifty yards behind them.
They're on an island, in a chain of islands. Off the coast of the continent. The eastern coast of the continent, over ten thousand miles from the eastern region of the Southlands.
The island chain is part of the Sultanate of Dreese. A nation on the mainland, south of the collection of nations known as the five kingdoms. One of which is the kingdom of Wah Lee, the homeland of Shur Kee the monk.
How they got here was by accident. An magical accident caused by Mira Reinholt the mage. Who for a brief moment regained most of his vast powers that he had lost as he went to cast a rift spell he had been learning since they were on the Kaldel Plains.
But unfortunately it turned into a rift/void, that sucked those who were nearby, into it. With the exception of lord Farque and Narladene the ground pixie. Who willingly went through it when they saw the others go tumbling uncontrollably through it.
Seeing the fighting dying down towards the other end of the beach. And more of the vanquished Viceroy's soldiers running away, heading inland.
Lord Farque says in the royal elven language "Search for a suitable body" followed by "I better go and bring him back from the otherside". Helbe the elven thief nods his hooded head in understanding.
Looking at the spy Tanith, the undead warlord says to him in elven "Head down to the Sultan" followed by "Since he won't let me or Helbe, or Beldane near him".
The lord of the death realm continues with "We'll probably sail back to the mainland, but snoop around and see if the fat prick has got any spare airships. The least he can do is give us one for winning this battle in this shitty war for him".
"Is it still working?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy in his native language as he looks at Draugadrottin and prince Helbenthril Raendril.
"It's fine" says the elven master assassin, who like the dead plainsman on the ground, is a member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae who briefly touched a spell gem he has in one of his hidden pockets, sets off towards the nearby beach.
"You two go with Helbe" says the undead being in the dark blue, black suit of heavy plate armour to Tovis and Beldane "He'll tell you want to look for" adds the undead warlord who has the elven name of Des'tier, which translates to The Destroyer.
Both the war engineer from the kingdom of Druvic, and the cleric from the kingdom of Nastell. Follow after Helbe the elven thief who beckons them to come along with him.
While lord Farque starts making his way to where a bluff is in the distance. The sea cliffs rise to a height of about a thousand feet, and have sharp, jagged rocks at the base of it, that are constantly pounded by the surf at the point of the island. While the bays along this side of the island, are protected and sheltered. Ideal with their white sand beaches and slightly swaying palm trees in the tropical winds coming off the ocean.
As he walks, the deathlord of Farque sourly smiles as he prepares to go and retrieve Zubutai the barbarian hordesman from the death realm.
Dalinvardél Tanith or Dalin as he's more commonly called by the others. Makes his way along the beach, occasionally stopped by the Sultan's men. Who wave him on when they realise who he is.
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae, who'd never thought he'd been in such a place like this.
Sees all the tents that are up towards the southern end of the long curving beach that's in one of the many bays on this side of the island.
Which is basically back in the hands of the Sultanate of Dreese now that the Viceroy's forces have been all but defeated here.
The Viceroy, who until a few months ago. Led the Sultan's fleets, both air and sea fleets. Who decided to launch a coup against the Sultan, his older brother.
Dalin is stopped by some of the Sultan's personal guards. Who, in their accented common, ask him what he wants.
The elven spy from the otherside of the continent tells them. And after a brief discussion amongst themselves in their native tongue. They allow him to continue along the beach, though two of them accompany him.
Just beyond most of the tents, which to the spy Tanith looks like an eyesore to him with their bright colours that clash with the natural colours of the surrounds.
Spots the many spellcasters of the Sultan standing around his open tent, there's over twenty of them, including a mage from the Southlands.
They're the reason the Sultan of Dreese stays in power. Though if it wasn't for the tactics of lord Farque. The Viceroy's coup would of been successful by now.
The Sultan, an overweight man, sits on a cushioned bench infront of his open tent. In which, is his many concubines, both women and men.
Stopping at least the twenty proscribed paces from the Sultan. Dalinvardél Tanith slightly nods his hooded head in greeting to the ruler of Dreese.
His herald steps forth, and says in the heavily accented common language that the locals speak "His magnificence is glad there is no presence of the dead man, the elven spell master and the god worshiper".
The herald continues with "His magnificence is most displeased when they are present".
I bet he is, Dalin dryly thinks to himself, who then politely smiles when the herald asks him "His magnificence would like to know if you would give up that trinket you carry".
"So kind of him to ask" says the spy Tanith, who is doing the job that Helbe the elven thief normally does. The envoy to whoever it is that's hired them. Though in this case, it's more of an enforced hiring.
"But i shall keep it on me for a bit longer" continues the elf from the principality of Alínlae, who then silently adds, i don't want to end up as one of his slaves.
"Pity" sourly says the herald, a copper skinned individual of intermittent age. He could be aged between forty to seventy years old. Even Dalin as an elf, finds it difficult to work out his age.
The herald glances at the Sultan, who murmurs something in the native language, which amongst the group, only lord Farque understands.
"His magnificence wishes to know what you want mercenary?" asks the herald.
Mira back for a start, the elven spy thinks to himself as he looks at the mage Reinholt, who stands there amongst the other practitioners of magic, with a tight lipped smile upon his face as he watches proceedings.
"Well, it seems this battle is won for the good Sultan" says Dalinvardél Tanith with a nod of his hooded head to the overweight ruler of Dreese.
"And my colleagues and i were wanting a favour if the good Sultan wants to retain our services, to wipe out the remainder of the Viceroy's forces on the other islands" continues the elven spy from the otherside of the continent, who already knows the Sultan will refuse. As it's the man's way. He's just a prick. Though admittedly a very dangerous one. As he has twenty spellcasters at his disposal. Who follow his orders without question.
"And what might that be mercenary?" asks the herald, who does the speaking for the Sultan, who is of the belief that speaking in public is beneath him, and something that one of his standing, should never stoop too.
An airship you asshole, Dalin thinks to himself, he's safe from the powers of the Sultan thanks to the spell gem he has secreted upon him. A spell gem that protects him from having his mind read too, no matter how powerful a spellcaster is.
"Well herald, that would be an airship" says the spy Tanith, who silently follows that with, like I've asked previously.
The elf originally from the principality of Alínlae waits for an answer, as the Sultan does take things into consideration.
Then after the ruler of the Sultanate of Dreese murmurs something in the native language to the herald, the copper skinned man says "His magnificence has decided".
The herald  pauses for more than a few moments, infact Dalin wonders if he'll speak again.
Then eventually the herald says "As the terms of your contract state, you will receive an airship when the Viceroy's forces are wiped out to a man. And his magnificence's brother, the Viceroy is brought before the Sultan to face his judgement".
"Of course" says the spy Tanith, who nods his hooded head to the Sultan after the overweight ruler grunts, the sound he makes to signify the audience is over.
Dalin takes one last look at Mira Reinholt the mage, who still stands there with a tight lipped smile, as he like all the other spellcasters, are under the control of the Sultan.
Then the elven spy turns around and walks away, heading back up the long curving beach in the bay, trying not to let out a sigh of frustration.
He knows that given time, lord Farque will win this war for the Sultan, and eventually wipe out all of the Viceroy's forces.
But finding the Viceroy, and bringing him infront of his older brother the Sultan. That's another matter entirely different.
As no one has heard of or seen the Viceroy even since he launched his coup. And that the group, when they've had the chance to search for him. Have no idea where he is too . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 4.

Summer. Western Southlands. Maldin Hills.

"Take that you damn villain!" declares sir Percavelle Lé Dic as he kicks one of the raiders between the legs.
The man, a miner by the looks of his attire, groans as he drops to his knees, clutching his groin.
He gets an armoured knee in the face for his troubles too. Which smashes in his face and mouth.
The nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic, isn't in all of his armour at the moment. He's missing quite a few pieces, as he took off a lot of his armour as he helped the villagers to dig their waterway from the spring to down here in the orchard and vineyard.
Though the former earl of Lé Dic is wearing his full helm at the moment. And on his left arm, he has the shield of Saint Mar-che.
The Druvician nobleman spins around, and stabs another of the raiders who tries to rush him from behind.
The large, middle aged knight is wielding his sword of knockdown, which when it hits, it hits with predictable results.
Tamric Drubine the field commander who has just cut down one of the raiders, and bashed another one in the face with the hilt of his own magical sword.
Wryly smiles as he sees one of the raiders go flying over the row in the vineyard he's in, over the next one, and smash into one of the first citrus trees in the orchard.
Looking through the vines, Tamric Drubine the field commander asks "You alright over there Percy?".
"I've seem to of vanquish the last of them, wot" replies the member of the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che "Much disappointed i say" adds the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque squeezes through the row of vines to his left, and joins sir Percavelle Lé Dic who is more commonly called Percy by the others.
"Verily, they seemed hard pressed to come this way wot" says the former paladin, who continues with "As if the very demons of hell were upon their heals".
"Well" says Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well "I don't know about that" adds the nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, who continues with "But there was a big green psycho who they were fleeing".
"Yes" says Percy in a rather dour manner "Quite" adds the former knight of the first class, who sourly smiles at the mention of his bitter rival.
Then the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, who had been fighting with the faceplate of his full helm open. Slams it shut as he follows after the young field commander, who is making his way between the rows of vines.
The former earl of Lé Dic mutters under his breath about the deficiencies of his rival, which in his opinion, there's an awful lot of them. As he follows after Tam.
Only stopping for a brief moment to kick the unconscious raider he kneed in the face, in the side of the head, breaking the man's neck. Before he sets off after the young field commander again.
The son and former heir to a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Stops next to Shur Kee the monk, who is kneeling beside one of the younger hillmen.
The short, statured monk looks at Tamric Drubine and shakes his head no.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin, who is now a field commander in the armies of Farque.
Sees that it's Franck, one of the better bow hunters by all accounts, who lies dead between two rows of vines on the side of the hill, just north of the village.
"He froze after he shot one of them" quietly explains Shur Kee the monk, who continues on with "Another one of them cut him down where he stood" he then adds "I was unable to get to him in time".
"It happens sometimes" quietly says field commander Drubine who continues with "Especially with someone who hasn't trained for battle, or experienced battle before".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic grunts in agreement with the nobleborn teenager as the three of them look down at the dead hillmen.
While more of the villagers, are at the end of the row of vines, looking their way.
Tam waves to them, to come and attend to one of their own. The only one to be killed by the raiders. Who were attempting to get to the village, which lies just on the otherside of the vineyard and orchard.
Of the nearly forty raiders who approached from the north. Nearly thirty of them lie dead or dying on the northern edge of the vineyard and orchard. As well as further along the hillside on this side of the village.
The rest of them have fled, having no stomach for a fight they weren't expecting.
Tam along with Percy and Shur Kee question one of the dying raiders. And find out that they're originally from a mining community twenty five miles to the north in the Maldin Hills.
Outsiders, mostly from the flatland between the hill country and the coast.
And that the mine they'd been working in for the last few years, had finally played out, as it was a rather old mine to begin with.
And over the last few months since the beginning of spring, they'd live a sparse existence in their ramshackle mining town.
Until they finally got desperate, and decided to go raiding some of the neighbouring hillmen communities.
Through the late spring, and early summer they attacked two other villages. Taking everything from food, alcohol and herds, and women too.
Today was supposed to be the third village they'd attack. As they'd come south, as it's common knowledge that this particular hillmen village has a prosperous vineyard and orchard. Even during the hot months of the summer that the Maldin Hills regularly endures.
As the wounded raider dies in mid sentence as he talks to them. Field commander Drubine sees Lisell Maera the messenger and Dorc da Orc approaching between the rows of vines.
The nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Druvic better speak to the large ork, and tell him not to eat any of the dead. At least not infront of the hillmen.
"Find out anything?" asks Lisell Maera the messenger "A bit" replies Tamric Drubine who quickly explains what they found out by questioning the wounded raider.
As Dorkindle wanders around sticking a spear in the raiders as they lie scattered across the edge of the vineyard and orchard.
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others, asks "Where were these other villages they attacked?".
"Northeast of their mining town" replies the young field commander in the armies of Farque, who winces when the messenger says in the elven language "I hope to hell she wasn't in one of those villages".
The son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine nods in agreement with the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury.
Then Lis spots some of the hillmen carrying a cloak wrapped body away from the orchard, and back to the village.
"What's that?" asks the messenger who nods towards the hillmen making their way back to the village.
Tam turns around and looks to where Lisell Maera has nodded, and he says "One of the hunters was killed" followed by "He was the only villager to die".
"Who?" asks the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands.
"That young guy" says field commander Drubine who then adds "Franck".
Lis pauses for a moment, then she nods, the messenger in the armies of Farque looks around, then walks away, heading in the direction of the nearby village.
"Better help them bury the dead" says Tam to Shur Kee and sir Percavelle Lé Dic as some of the hillmen have started carrying away the dead raiders.
"Well, i do say, these dead villains will make fine fertiliser for the trees wot" states the former paladin in the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che. Which causes both the young field commander and the acolyte in the philosophical order of Bru Li to wince.
The three of them walk away, while over in the next row of grape vines, Dorc da Orc chuckles as he sticks his spear into another of the raiders, who was injured and not dead. He's dead now, that's for sure.
Later in the day, at dusk where a bit of a breeze has picked up, to help cool things down from the stifling heat of the daytime.
And all the dead raiders have been buried after they've been stripped of everything of worth. From the coins and any jewels they were carrying. To the weapons they were using. Along with a few drinking leathers of wine and mash liquor they had.
The alcohol which Dorc da Orc took, along with a pair of legs he took when no one was looking.
And now the ork warleader is up next to the boulders at the top of the trail, up at the top of the hill, above the orchard and vineyard.
Where he's happily chewing away on a leg, and drinking some of the mash liquor. As he looks down to the village below as dusk gives way to the early evening.
In the village, Lisell Maera has just made her way out of one of the houses. It's the family home of the young hunter Franck. Where she's just paid her respects to the young man. Who though annoying as he often paid attention to her during the nearly two weeks they've been in this village. He was never untowards the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury.
The messenger in the armies of Farque could only stay inside a short time before she had to get out.
The sight of Franck's two younger siblings, along with his parents. Who were all mourning the young hunter. Who they all relied on. Was enough to drive Lis back outside.
She pushed her way through the other hillmen who have come to pay their respects to the recently departed and his family.
The messenger in the armies of Farque makes her way back to the house that she and others are staying in.
She finds Tamric Drubine, Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic sitting at the table they've brought outside.
The table is laden with food and drink, that the locals have brought over in appreciation for the defence of their village, orchard and vineyard.
"Where's Dorc?" asks Lis as Tam fills a goblet full of wine for her "I'd thought he'd been here to enjoy all this" adds the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, whose mother was a street prostitute and whose father was a sailor.
"He's up the hill somewhere" says field commander Drubine, who switches to the elven language and tells Lis "Eating some poor bastards legs he thought no one saw he took, but i caught a glimpse of".
The messenger rolls her eyes, then loads up a plate full of food. Both cold and hot meat, lamb of course. As well as some grilled chicken, that's in a dish with onions and peppers.
There's also an assortment of cheeses, mainly made from sheep's milk. But there's a couple of harder yellow cheeses too. As this village has a handful of milking cows, a rarity in the villages that are higher up in the Maldin Hills.
As Lis takes one of the flatbreads from a pile of them, and puts some of the spiced lamb, and some pickled vegetables on it, then wraps it up.
She says to Tam "She'd better of not been in one of those two villages".
"I know" says the young field commander with a slight wince upon his face "And we haven't gone up that way yet" adds the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin as they've only searched to the north and northwest in this part of the Maldin Hills for the person they're looking for.
"Two of us go out tomorrow?" asks Lis who continues with "Head up that way to check things out?" she then quickly adds "I'll go again if you want" as she doesn't particularly want to be here in the village at the moment.
The young field commander who was thinking about going himself, nods his head, then looking at Shur Kee and sir Percavelle Lé Dic, the senior officer in the armies of Farque says "Take Percy with you this time".
Though she prefers to travel with the short, statured monk from beyond the Southlands, because he doesn't unnecessarily chat. She nods her head in acceptance at the suggestion from Tam for the former earl of Lé Dic to go with her.
"We'll stay here, and make sure those ten or so raiders who fled don't try and come back to attack again" says the nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, a castle located in the very north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Tamric Drubine after taking a drink of wine, adds "Keep an eye out for them as you go up north, they might head back to their mine, or those two villages they've already attacked".
The messenger nods her head in agreement as the four of them continue to eat their evening meal outside infront of the house they're living in the village in this part of the Maldin Hills.
In the morning, Tamric Drubine is up fairly early. Mainly because of the loud snoring from Dorc da Orc, who sleeps outside next to the house they've been living in for nearly two weeks.
The young field commander isn't up as early as Shur Kee the monk, who is coming up one of the paths that wind through the hillside village.
The physical adept who is the living incarnation of the Jade Warrior Bru Li, has been meditating on a nearby outcrop that looks out, and down the hill the village is on.
The nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin knows that Shur Kee would of practiced his unarmed combat techniques too. And he'll be willing to train Tam this morning too.
The senior officer in the armies of Farque isn't up to it this morning, instead he gets a bucket of water from the nearby trough, and uses that to wash himself.
And short time later, he and the short, statured monk are sitting at the table infront of the house, eating breakfast.
While Lisell Maera and sir Percavelle Lé Dic are around the back of the house, in the lean to, that's a rudimentary stable. Where they're saddling two of the horses they've purchased from the villagers.
All the while, Dorc da Orc continues to sleep blissfully unaware that the others are already up and about.
The large ork will soon be awake, as the heat will get to him eventually. Even early in the morning it's warm. Especially as the breeze that was blowing last night, has disappeared this morning.
"We're off" says Lis as she and the former earl of Lé Dic walk their mounts from around the back of the house.
"We'll eat on the road" adds the messenger in the armies of Farque.
"Stay safe" Tamric Drubine says to the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, and the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
"See you when you get back" adds Shur Kee the monk, the two riding north this morning, nod their heads.
Then they lead their mounts down the path, through the village to where the road that goes north is.
As they finish breakfast, and they hear the mutterings in the ork language from Dorc da Orc around the side of the house as the large ork wakes up in grumpy mood because of the heat.
Tamric Drubine and Shur Kee the monk watch Lisell Maera and sir Percavelle Lé Dic get to the road, where they hop up into the saddle.
And as they ride out of the village, and head north. They hope they find out any information about the woman they've been searching for here in the Maldin Hills . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 3.

Summer. Maldin Hill Country.

"How many do you think?" asks Tamric Drubine the field commander as they stand beneath some fruit trees in the orchard.
"At least a dozen" replies Lisell Maera the messenger, who along with Shur Kee the monk, returned just a short time ago.
"And we saw signs of others as we rode back" adds the attractive young woman who is originally form the city-state of Brattonbury.
"Hell" mutters the nobleborn teenager who hails from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
The young field commander who did not think they'd be getting themselves into some kind of fight.
Looks over at the nearby hillmen, who have stopped work on their waterway early this afternoon. And are watching them as they figure something is amiss from the way that Lisell Maera and Shur Kee came riding quickly into the village.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by the others, who is speaking in elven with the messenger, quietly says to her "They maybe outsiders, but whoever they are, they're not well off since they're not on horseback".
Making your way on foot through the hill country is fine enough. But if you want to travel quickly along the dry and dusty roads, going on horseback is definitely the way to go.
"We thought they might be miners fallen on hard times" quietly says Lisell Maera, who more commonly is called Lis by those who know her well.
Field commander Drubine slightly nods his head, then says "Could be" followed by "Whoever they are, we'll have to do something if they turn up here".
The messenger in the armies of Farque nods her head in agreement. As the two of them look over at the nearby villagers.
The hillmen aren't known for their prowess in battle. Many of them are fine bowmen. But since they don't fight all that often amongst themselves. Battles aren't exactly common, and weapons aren't in abundance throughout the hill country.
Though in the past, when outsiders have pushed into areas of the Maldin Hills to try and set up a nation of some kind.
The hillmen have banded together to push them out. It helps that they know the difficult terrain so well.
And the fact that fighting a campaign in the summertime here is arduous to say the least. As the heat here can be unbearable at times.
And in the wintertime, the conditions are just as bad. Though in the opposite direction. As it can get extremely cold. It's similar to a high mountain range here in the Maldin Hills. Where it also gets high winds during the colder months of the year.
"What should we do?" asks Lis who glances over to where Shur Kee the monk is standing with sir Percavelle Lé Dic beneath some more of the fruit trees. While Dorc da Orc sits nearby, under the shade of a wide citrus tree, as he drinks from a small barrel of dark red, sweet wine.
"Help them out i guess" says Tam, who then tells the messenger "I want you to take Dorc" he then explains to the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, what they'll do.
After explaining to Lis what they'll do, the young field commander in the armies of Farque switches to the common language, and says "Dorc go with Lis".
In no mood to do anything in the heat of the afternoon, Dorc da Orc with a scowl upon his broad, green, brutish looking face, says "Get fucked".
"There's going to be a fight" quietly says Tamric Drubine as he walks over to the large ork, knowing the mention of a fight is about the only thing that will get the ork warleader's attention.
Dorkindle's eyes light up, and he says "With fucken who?" as he looks around, wondering who wants to fight.
"Go with Lis and you'll find out" says the nobleborn teenager who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world thinks about it for a moment, then he grunts and gets up off the ground, and makes his way over to Lisell Maera.
As the messenger and the ork general walk away. Field commander Drubine beckons Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic over, and says to them "This is what we'll do".
The senior officer in the armies of Farque explains to them what they'll do, and after he does. Tam goes over to the nearby hillmen, and explains to them what's happening.
As they walk northwards through the orchard and vineyard, Lisell Maera sourly smiles as out of the corner of her eye, she spots one of the young men of the village approach them from between the row of vines.
"Lis" says Franck who is enamoured with the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury. A young man about eighteen years old, who always tries to get the attention of the messenger.
As Franck hurries over, he stops in mid stride, and backs away, when he spots Dorc da Orc following behind Lis. The large ork growls at the hillman, who turns and hurries away between two rows of grapevines.
"Thanks" says the messenger to the following ork warleader, who just grunts in reply. The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks is in an irritable mood to say the least. Going about in the afternoon heat is something he definitely doesn't like.
And only the prospect of a fight has got him up and about.
As they make their way from the orchard and vineyard as they head north away from the village.
Lisell Maera asks the ork weaponsmith "What do you smell Dorc?".
"Fucken dirt" replies the ork general, who then adds "And fucken dust" followed by "And fucken rocks".
The messenger in the armies of Farque rolls her eyes. Though that was a fairly apt description from the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world. As that's pretty much want the Maldin Hills is. Dirt, dust and rocks. As there isn't much in the much of vegetation and tree life. And where you do find them away from the villages. They're parched looking, mostly bleached white in colour. As are a lot of the rocks that are scattered across the hillsides.
It's the larger boulders that tend to be straw, or yellow in colour.
"I meant in the way of people" says Lis who points away to the north, as they head up a trail that goes up and away from the village and it's orchards.
Dorkindle, whose only solace in the hot weather here in the hill country, is that it isn't humid.
Grunts as he looks further north, repeatedly sniffing as he does so.
The warleader of the ork race scowls as he concentrates, then he mutters something totally incomprehensible in the ork language, which thankfully Lis doesn't understand.
Then he says in his heavily accented common "Fucken peoples". Lisell Maera stops and looks back at the large ork, who tells her "Got swords and armour too".
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands then asks "How far away are they".
"Couple miles Dorc guess" is the reply of the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks.
"Shit" mutters Lis in the elven language, who then asks in common "How many?" followed by "More than a dozen?".
After thinking about it for a few moments, and after sniffing a few more times, Dorkindle grunts "Yeah cunt" followed by "More than Dorc got fingers and toesies" the large ork briefly pauses then gestures at his groin as he adds "And little Dorc".
The messenger rolls her eyes as the ork general chuckles. Then she sets off again, followed by the large ork, knowing that at least twenty one people, armed and armoured are heading this way.
The two of them stop at the top of the hill, where a pile of boulders are. Next to which are a few sparse looking trees. While the trail they were on. Continues northwards along the top of the hill, to the next ridge along.
Dorc da Orc sits down in the shade along one side of the boulders, glad that there's actually shade up here at this time of the day.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, sips from the small barrel of dark red, sweet wine he's brought with him.
The general in the armies of Farque actually prefers the hard liquor the hillmen make from mashed root vegetables. But that's harder to find, as they don't make a lot of it. So he's predominantly been drinking the sweet red wine they make in abundance. As the climate here in the hill country is conducive for that type of wine. There's a sharp tasting white wine they make too. But Dorkindle prefers the darker sweet red wine instead.
He's disappointed that ales and beers aren't prevalent here in the Maldin Hills. And when you do find them, they've been brought from elsewhere. Mostly down in the flat lands between the hill country and the coast of the Southlands.
Lisell Maera who has walked around the pile of boulders and looked away to the north, and not seen anyone coming from that direction.
Walks around to the south facing side of the boulders where Dorc da Orc is sitting in the shade.
The messenger in the armies of Farque crouches down, though not too close to the large ork. Who absolutely reeks, as he hasn't got wet in a long time.
Lis looks over at Dorkindle who says to her "Look it's your fucken boyfriend" as he points down to the orchards and vineyards that lie just to the north of the village.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury ignores the chuckling ork warleader, and she looks down to the orchard.
Where she spots the hillman Franck at the edge of the trees and rows of vines. He's with a few of the other hillmen, all with their hunting bows. They're paying attention to Tamric Drubine who is explaining something to them.
"He is annoying that's for sure" dryly says Lis who momentarily pauses before continuing with "Though not as annoying as some of the others".
Dorc da Orc grunts, then says "Let him fuck you" he loudly chuckles as the messenger scowls at him.
"Or kill him" adds the ork weaponsmith who follows that with "Fucken either one, he no more annoy you after that".
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands sourly smiles at getting advice from someone who Tam has told not to fuck the villagers herds, as they hillmen tend to have herds of sheep, that they graze on the straw coloured, shrub like bushes found across the hills.
Though the warleader of the ork race has wandered off at nighttime to try catch some of the wild goats that can be found throughout the Maldin Hills.
He's yet to catch any. Luckily for the wild goats, who the large ork will fuck to death if he gets a hold of any.
"I'll remember that in future" dryly says Lisell Maera with a shake of her head as the ork general continues to chuckle, before he goes back to sipping the sweet red wine in the small barrel he's holding.
A short while later, and Dorkindle slurps the last of the wine in the small barrel, loudly burps, then tells the messenger "They almost here".
Lis gets up, and looks around the side of the boulders they've been waiting behind. The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, frowns, then quietly says "Where?".
Dorc da Orc who has stood up, who can actually look over the boulder they've been behind, sourly mutters "Blind cunt" with a sideways look down at the messenger.
Lisell Maera who is accustomed to the large ork's disgust at the inadequacies of the human senses, nods when he quietly tells her in his deep, growling voice "Fucken there" as he points.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury spots the movement of people making their way along the ridge line in the distance, heading in this direction.
The messenger in the armies of Farque after watching them for a while, figures there's over thirty of them. Close to forty from what she can see.
"Do you think they've seen us?" quietly asks Lisell Maera who moves back so that she's just peeking around the side of the boulders.
Dorkindle snorts in a dismissive manner as to what he thinks about that.
"I guess that's a no then?" dryly says the messenger, who gets a grunt in a positive manner from the large ork in reply.
"What do you think they'll do?" quietly asks Lis, who knows the ork warleader can see numerous tactics and manoeuvres in battles in his mind before they happen.
A unique skill that he possesses, which is why he was named the warleader of his race. And why he's a general in the armies of Farque.
Which is all the remarkable considering how mentally deranged he is.
"If them cunts got any brains, they should fucken head downhill now" quietly says the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks, he continues on with "Can see this fucken trail from the village and trees down there". As he gestures down to the orchard and vineyard down further below them.
Lis sees that the ork warleader is right about that. And she turns, takes a few steps out from the shade of the boulders and looks down to the orchard, and gives a number of hand signals to field commander Drubine who she knows is looking up here.
She spots Tam, who gives a couple of hand signals in return. She replies with another one. Then nods and steps back into the shade of the boulders.
While the young field commander steps back amongst the rows of vines, and trees. And almost disappears from sight as he waits with the others down there.
"We're to" says the messenger, who is interrupted by the ork general who tells her "Dorc know what to fucken do".
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world continues with "If the fucken cunts come this way, we to drive them down to Tam and the other cunts down there".
The ork warleader who has sat down again, takes one of his spears and closely inspects the spearhead, as Lis stands there with raised eyebrows, as the large ork basically said what field commander Drubine signaled. Even though the ork weaponsmith didn't watch the messenger and Tam signal one another.
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands has taken her crossbow from across her back and loaded it.
And she glances around the side of the boulders when Dorc da Orc quietly says to her "Some of the fuckheads got brains and are going downhill now".
Lis spots those in question, about fifteen or so. Who are making their way downhill after going off the trail. While the remainder are heading along the trail, that leads straight to the pile of boulders that she and the ork warleader are behind.
The messenger sees that they're for the most part, roughly armoured. And don't particularly have the best quality weapons. And though a lot of them have shortswords. She sees others with picks and sledges. Giving credence to her theory that they might be miners.
Though she does see a few here and there, whose weapons and armour look well maintained, and of better quality. She figures they're mercenaries, and are the ones to watch out for.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, whose mother was a street prostitute and whose father, who she never knew or met, was a sailor.
Ducks back behind the boulders, and waits with the ork weaponsmith, who she quietly tells "They're getting closer".
The large ork just grunts. He's in no hurry. And the closer these potential raiders upon the village get. The better in the opinion of the ork warleader, who doesn't particularly want to run around after those he's going to kill. Considering how hot it is here, this summers day in the Maldin Hills.
Lis looks quickly at Dorkindle, as now she can actually hear the raiders on the trail approaching the pile of boulders she and the ork general are waiting behind.
The son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks grins at her. Then he takes a throwing axe from the front of his weapon harness, and stands up with that in one hand, and one of his spears in the other.
Dorc da Orc steps to the left, to the side of the boulders and roars as only an ork can roar, then he shouts "Get some!".
The large ork, who like all of his race is ambidextrous, biffs the throwing axe at those, who aren't all that far from the boulders, as they approach along the trail.
And he throws the spear at those who have gone off the trail, and are making their way down the steep hillside.
As he does, Lisell Maera the messenger steps to the other side of the boulders, and shoots the bolt in her crossbow at those approaching along the trail. As they hope to attack the village by surprise.
But unfortunately they've been found out, and have been surprised attacked themselves . . . . . .

The Lost Ones 2.

Summer. Western Southlands. The Maldin Hills.

"You know, Percy is helping them out" says Tamric Drubine the field commander who gestures along the trail in the early morning sunlight to the hillside orchard and vineyard that lies just to the north of the village.
"The fuck" growls Dorc da Orc who has spent the last week and a half they've stayed at the village, drinking and eating as much as he can. While trying to find places that offer him shade as he tries to cope with the summer heat here in the Maldin Hills.
"Probably don't want them to think more of him, than they do of you" says the nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin.
"Them cunts think that knight fuck is betters than Dorc?" asks the large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque.
"Well" says the young field commander in the same armies, who pauses for a few moments before he continues with "If he helps them out and you don't".
The nobleborn teen who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine that's located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin, leaves it unsaid to what he thinks.
Or to be exact, what he wants the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world to think.
"Fucken cuntballs" mutters Dorkindle who then adds "Can't fucken have that happens".
The ork warleader who has found a tree that actually has leaves on it to offer some shade in the early morning sunshine.
Grunts as he gets up off the ground, and after downing the last of the rich, sweet red wine in the small barrel he's holding.
He steps down onto the trail, and heads for the nearby orchard and vineyard.
Where some of the villagers are diverting a stream from a natural spring in the ground. One of the few places to find water in this part of the Maldin Hills. Where rainfall is scarce throughout the year. Especially now, during the summertime.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well. Follows after Dorc da Orc as the ork weaponsmith stomps his way along the dry and dusty trail to the nearby orchard.
As he does, the young field commander in the armies of Farque looks downhill to his left. To where the road that heads north from the village goes.
Tam is expecting Lisell Maera the messenger and Shur Kee the monk back sometime today.
As they went off a couple of days ago. To see if they can find the whereabouts of the person they're searching for here in the Maldin Hills.
Two of them, whether it be Tam and Lisell Maera, or Tam and Shur Kee. Or Lisell and Shur Kee as it's been the last couple of days.
Have gone out searching through the Maldin Hills. Trying to find out any information about the person they're searching for. Since they decided to base themselves in the nearby village.
They decided to base themselves here for the simple reason Dorc da Orc was known here. And appreciated by some of the hillmen. Who nearly twenty years ago. Earned a fortune from the large ork and lord Farque. Who stole a number of wagons, full of gold, from a mine further to the south in this part of the Maldin Hills.
But so far they've had no luck in finding any information about the whereabouts of the person they're searching for.
Field commander Drubine hopes Lisell Maera the messenger and Shur Kee the monk have found something out. Or even better, they've actually found the person. But he figures they'll have to be extremely lucky to do that.
"We'll never find her with the way things are going" Tam murmurs to himself in the elven language as he follows behind the warleader of the ork race.
They get to the orchard, to where up the hill. The villages, along with a shirtless sir Percavelle Lé Dic, are digging a trench from where the spring is located.
Dorc da Orc stomps up the hill, grabs a spade and mattock from the pile of equipment off to one side.
And he starts digging into the ground, where the hillmen have roped out where the waterway is going to go.
As dirt goes flying to cheers of the villagers. Sir Percavelle Lé Dic sourly smiles as he watches his rival the ork warleader.
Who he knows will give up by midmorning, as it'll be too hot for him by then.
Nevertheless, the nobleborn knight originally from the kingdom of Druvic puts in a lot more effort. As he doesn't want to be shown up by the ork weaponsmith. Who for the most part has an aversion to manual labour. Unless there's some benefit to him.
Or in this instance. If he thinks his bitter rival. The former earl of Lé Dic, will look better in the eyes of the villagers.
As he sits upon a bench beneath some date trees. Tamric Drubine wryly smiles at the two rivals. Who for once are busy working, trying to out do one another.
The young field commander who deemed it best that Dorc da Orc and sir Percavelle Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others.
Don't go off and look for the one they're searching for. Just incase either one got distracted, as they're want to do. Especially the warleader of the ork race who is easily distracted.
Takes a sip from his water bottle. As his thoughts turn towards Lisell Maera and Shur Kee. Wondering how they're getting on in their search.
"Nothing?" asks Lisell Maera the messenger "Yes nothing" replies Shur Kee the monk, who continues with "It is an old shrine, to which god i am not sure".
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury nods her head as she looks at the square structure that's the size of a room you'd find in many of the houses in the villages scattered throughout the Maldin Hills.
The short, statured monk in the thin white clothing, and wearing an odd conical shaped hat. Quickly scrambles down the hill like a mountain goat. As he makes his way to the trail that Lisell Maera is waiting on with the horses.
Once he's on the trail, the acolyte in the order of Bru Li takes the reins of his horse from the messenger who is already mounted. And then he hops up into the saddle.
The two of them slowly ride away, in single file along the trail as they head south, back to the village they've been living in for the last week and a half.
The hill range, one of the longest north, south ranges of hills or mountains for that matter, in all the Southlands. As the vast majority of them run east, west.
Is crisscrossed with trails and tracks that go up and down the hills, and over them. Connecting the many dry and dusty roads that go through the Maldin Hills.
Which is still unruled, even though the port town of Gilsom is less than fifty miles from the northern end of the hill country.
And though many a person has tried to impose rule upon the Maldin Hills over the centuries. They've all failed, as the hillmen have held out and rejected anyone who has tried to rule them.
And at other times they've fought against those who try to impose a rule of law, or try to set up a nation in part of, or even all of the Maldin Hills.
The only outsiders who have had any sway in the hill country are those who have opened up new mines in the range.
As the old ones were played out centuries ago. And new prospectors, usually form the coast. Come in and try to look for a new seam. Usually silver and gold, as well as tin. Which is found throughout the Maldin Hills.
Lisell Maera or Lis as more often as not she's referred to by those who know her well. Likes traveling with Shur Kee the monk.
He doesn't indulge in idle chatter. And only speaks when necessary. Apart from him waking far too early in the mornings for the messenger's liking. As he meditates first thing before dawn. Then he practices his unarmed combat.
Which the physical adept has been teaching Lis along with the field commander Tamric Drubine over the last couple of years.
She finds traveling with the short, statured monk a pleasure. Especially in comparison to Dorc da Orc and sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
Who the attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, thinks would drive a holy saint crazy. As the two of them certainly do her head in, most of the time.
"Where do you think they are?" quietly asks Lisell Maera, who is the one who always initiate any conversation between herself and Shur Kee as they travel through this part of the hill country.
"I do not know" replies the monk who is the living conduit of the Jade Warrior, Bru Li.
"Wherever they are, i am sure they are fine" adds the physical adept, whose attire suits him well for the hot, dry summer they're enduring here in the Maldin Hills.
The attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands nods her head as they make their way downhill to where the closest road is.
They have no idea where the others are. And it's only the five of them. Lis, Shur Kee, Tamric Drubine, sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Dorc da Orc who are in the hill country, searching for someone.
The attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, whose mother was a street prostitute, and whose father, who she never knew, was a sailor.
Will call a stop sometime before midday, to take shelter somewhere from the heat in the middle of the day.
Lis, who will soon be twenty one years old. Definitely agrees of the hillmen tradition of resting during the heat of the day. From around midday to after mid afternoon.
It's the ideal thing to do, if one wants any kind of respite from the hot and dry conditions that the Maldin Hills endure during the summertime.
The messenger, who suspects it gets bitterly cold up here in the hill country during the winter.
Is monetarily surprised, when from behind her. Shur Kee the monk, who doesn't usually initiate any conversation, speaks up.
"To the left" quietly says the short, statured monk who is from beyond the Southlands, far beyond it infact. To be exact, the far eastern coast of the continent. Where his homeland, the kingdom of Wah Lee lies.
"Up the hill" quietly adds the physical adept who is in his early thirties nowadays. "Movement" quietly continues the sharp eyed monk who is an honorary member of the personal council to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The messenger in the armies of Farque, looks out of the corner of her eye. Up the hill as the trail they're traversing goes downhill towards the nearest road.
After a few moments, Lis catches sight of movement, and sees a few people, keeping low to the ground, go up, and disappear over the top of the hill.
"Hillmen?" quietly asks the attractive young woman who has caught the eye of a few of the unmarried men in the village they're staying at. She's caught the eye of some of the married men too.
"I do not think so" is the quiet reply of Shur Kee as he rides behind the horse that Lisell Maera is on.
"They did not wear the tunic and skirt the hillmen wear" quietly adds the physical adept who is a member of the philosophical order of Bru Li. A philosopher and thinker from the kingdom of Wah Lee, who died over seven centuries ago.
"They had armour, and are armed" quietly says the living incarnation of the Jade Warrior Bru Li.
"That's not good" quietly says the messenger in the armies of Farque, as you'll be hard pressed to find any hillmen who wear armour, or are armed. The weapon you'll most likely to find the locals have in the Maldin Hills, is their hunting bow. Which a lot of them are particularly fond of.
"Outsiders then" quietly says Lisell Maera, behind her, Shur Kee nods in agreement as they continue riding at slow pace down the trail they're on.
"Up to no good then" quietly adds the attractive young woman from the coast of the Southlands, which isn't all that faraway, well under fifty miles away from this part of the Maldin Hills.
Though her homeland of Brattonbury, is another two thousand miles further north up the coast.
"How many do you think?" quietly asks the messenger, or runner in the armies of the lands Farque.
"A dozen at least that i saw" is the quiet reply from Shur Kee the monk as they approach the road the trail they're on leads to.
"That's definitely not good" murmurs Lis who only saw the last three of them, go up over the top of the hill.
"And they're going south too" quietly says the attractive young woman who is originally from the city-state of Brattonbury.
"Yes they are" quietly says the short, statured monk whose odd shaped conical hat, offers him respite from the morning sunshine, that's beating down upon the hill country.
Once they're on the road, Lisell Maera looks back at the acolyte in the order of Bru Li, and quietly tells him "We might have to ride through the heat of the day".
"I understand" says Shur Kee with a nod of his head, as they heel their horses to more speed now that they're on the dry and dusty road, giving them rein to run for a bit.
Because they both know, that the only significant settlement along this road to the south, is the village that they've been staying at.
And whoever it was they caught a brief glimpse of going over the top of the hill. Are definitely going southwards towards it . . . . . .

The Lost Ones.

Summer. Maldin Hill Country. Western Southlands.

About forty miles inland from the coast of the Southlands, on a dirt road in the sun brown, and dusty Maldin Hills on another cloudless and hot summers day.
Tamric Drubine the field commander looks back, then says "We'll find somewhere to stop for a bit".
Next to him, Lisell Maera the messenger nods her head in agreement as she looks ahead for anywhere that offers some shade.
Even sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who doesn't complain as he tramps about in his full suit of plate armour, is glad for a bit of respite from the heat.
The heavily armoured knight has taken off his full helm, and after wiping his brow with a linen cloth, he dampens it with some of the water in his water bottle, then places it on his head.
While next to the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Girdane. Shur Kee the monk, whose light clothing, and odd conical shaped hat he wears.
Is truly the best thing to wear in the summer weather they're experiencing at the moment. Fans himself with a paper fan he brought in one of the villages they stopped at a couple of days ago.
Tamric Drubine or Tam as he's more commonly called by those who know him well. Looks back down the dirt road behind them.
Where the fifth member of their group is trudging up the hill behind everyone else.
The young field commander in the armies of Farque can't help but feel sorry for Dorc da Orc who is struggling in this heat.
Then the nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Girdane, calls back down the road "Dorc we'll stop when we find some shade!".
Not even a grunt comes back from the large ork as he continues up the dirt road.
While next to field commander Drubine, Lisell Maera the messenger dryly says in the elven language "That's if we even find some shade".
Tam slightly nods in agreement, then he and the other three get underway, with the ork warleader still slowly following them, about eighty yards further back.
As they continue along the dusty road, that goes across the west side of the Maldin Hills, a long hill range that runs north to south. Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by those who know her well.
Again wishes that there was at least a bit of humidity here, like there is in her homeland, the city-state of Brattonbury.
But no such luck, as here, further south near the coast. About seventy miles southeast of the bustling port town of Gilsom, the summers are hot and dry.
As are these hills, which are naturally dry for most of the year. As there isn't a lot of rainfall in the Maldin Hills.
The attractive young woman from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, who is now a runner or messenger in the armies of Farque.
Looks away to her left as they head north, and in the sky in the distance towards the coast, she spots something.
"What's that there?" asks Lis in the common language as she points away to the west.
The three others look that way, and sir Percavelle Lé Dic muses "Hmmm an airship perhaps" the normally boisterous nobleborn knight, who has been subdued by the hot weather, then adds "Though it be a very small vessel if it was".
Tamric Drubine, who is the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the forested north of the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Is just about to take his eyepiece out from his pack, when instead he turns and calls out "Dorc!" followed by "What's that over there!" as he points away to the west.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who is a general in the armies of Farque.
Who is walking with his head down, looks up, and looks to where Tam is pointing away to the west.
Dorc da Orc grunts, then calls back "A fucken wyvern!" the large ork whose voice is croaky and parched dry, then adds "Big cunt too!".
"A rider?" asks the young field commander, who by virtue of his rank in the armies of Farque, is in command of their small group of five, here in the Maldin Hill country.
"Yeah cunt" is the reply of Dorkindle as he continues trudging up the dry and dusty, dirt road behind the others.
"Think the rider spotted us?" quietly asks Lisell Maera "Who knows" replies Tamric Drubine, who follows that with "Well, whoever it is, they're going north, probably to Gilsom".
"No doubt" says the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury as they watch the wyvern in the distance to the west, flying away to the north.
They continue on for a little while longer, and in the early afternoon, in the hottest part of the day. They find some shelter from the sun that's beating down upon the Maldin Hills.
Some trees are overhanging the road, they don't particularly offer any shade. As like a lot of trees across the Maldin Hills, they're basically bare, and dry looking, with hardly any leaves on them at all, that's if they even have leaves to begin with.
But what does offer them shade, is the boulders that the trees are nestled amongst as they overhang the dry and dusty road.
They take refuge in the shade from the overhanging boulders, as they sit out the hottest part of the day.
The ork weaponsmith who is panting as he sits there, broaches the last barrel of sweet wine he purchased in one of the villages they've stopped at.
You know the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks is hot when he doesn't even chug down the wine in the small barrel, but sips at it instead.
As he does, Tamric Drubine looks at the map he has of this part of the Maldin Hills. The map is rudimentary at best. And though the features, roads and hills are basically correct. The distances are spotty to say the least. Some are off by a couple of miles. While others are completely wrong, and give incorrect distances by quite some way.
The young field commander who has stood up beneath one of the overhanging boulders, looks away to his left, to where Dorc da Orc is sitting. As the warleader of the ork race says "Me fucken know this place".
"You do?" asks the nobleborn teenager who hails from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
The ork general grunts, then with a groan of effort, the big, burly ork who is from the frozen bottom of the world, gets up and walks out onto the road.
Field commander Drubine follows him, and the two of them stop on the edge of the road, and look down the steep hillside.
They're quite high up, and the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks points down, and Tam spots another road a couple hundred feet further down the hills they've been traversing.
"Fucken mines that way" says Dorkindle pointing southwards along the road that's lower down the hillside.
"Village that fucken way" adds the large ork who then points away to the north.
"You remember from when you were here nearly twenty years ago with lord Farque?" asks the nobleborn teen, who has recently turned nineteen years of age.
"Yeah cunt" says the ork warleader, who chuckles then adds "Stole a shitfuck lot of gold from here".
The general in the armies of Farque then scowls and says "Then some fucken sky pirate cunts catch Dorc, and fly me away" the ork weaponsmith follows that with "You know what the worst fucken bit was?".
"What?" asks Tam "Them sky pirate fuckheads had a bunch of fucken dwarf cunts they had nicked from some fucken place with them" says the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, who continues in a disgusted tone of voice with "Worst fucken flying ship Dorc ever been on".
The large ork hurries back across the road to get back beneath the overhanging boulders, so he can get out of the sun, and get back to sipping the rich, sweet red wine that the hillmen like to make.
Field commander Drubine looks down at the road that's further down the hillside. Then he looks at the map he's holding.
The nobleborn teenager who is originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin slightly nods his head as he notices something.
Then he makes his way back across the dusty road, and joins the others in the shade of the overhanging boulders.
As he sits there in the shade, Tam looks over at the ork warleader, and slightly shakes his head. As he can never get over the fact that Dorkindle can remember somethings from nearly twenty years ago. And at other times he can hardly remember what happened yesterday or the day before.
"What is it?" quietly asks Lisell Maera the messenger in the elven language, a language that only she and the young field commander understand in their little group.
"Oh just something about Dorc" replies Tam in the same language, who then tells Lis about how the large ork can easily forget about things from a couple of days ago, but clearly remember things from years ago.
"Probably why he's so crazy" says the messenger in the armies of Farque, who continues with "All orks for that matter" she follows that with "Guess it's something to do with all their mad thoughts and ideas, not enough room for recent memories, but plenty enough for things that happened ages ago".
"Good a reason as any" says the young field commander, who is technically Dorkindle's junior, as the large ork is a higher rank of general in the armies of Farque.
But no one bothers to tell the ork warleader that. As none of them what him leading them, and making decisions that could very well get them all killed.
They were all told a number of years ago that the big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world is fine enough to take charge during a battle.
But at any other time. Like now as they make their way north through the Maldin Hills. It's a disaster waiting to happen.
Switching to the common language so that the others know what's happening, the son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, which is located in the very north of the kingdom of Sarcrin, which lies nearly four thousand miles to the east of where they are at the moment, says "There's a mine road further down the hillside".
The nobleborn teenager who is a senior officer in the mercenary armies of the lands Farque, continues on with "It'll take us to the next village".
The youngest of the group of five, briefly pauses before he adds "Hopefully we can find a track of some kind that leads down there".
Then in a dry tone of voice, he says "Because i don't fancy climbing down there i tell you".
Lisell Maera, Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic all nod in agreement. While Dorc da Orc continues to sip the sweet red wine in the small barrel he's cradling.
"And pray tell, at the next village?" asks the nobleborn knight from the kingdom of Druvic.
"Hopefully we can find something out" is the reply from Tam, which is the same answer to that question he always gives. Hopefully they can find something out.
Though they've been unsuccessful in all the villages they've been to, as they've made their way north through the Maldin Hills over the last couple of weeks during this hot, dry summer in this part of the Southlands. In unruled lands in what's known as Maldin Hill country.
A hill range that goes roughly north to south. About two hundred miles in length, about fifty miles inland from the coast. Until it gets to it's northern end, where it starts to turn further inland, curving away to the east.
After resting for most of the afternoon, staying out of the direct sunlight in the heat of the day. They get underway again in the late afternoon.
And continue on the dry and dusty road they've been on for the last few days as they travel north through the Maldin Hills.
They do find a trail that goes downhill, and connects to the other road that's a couple hundred feet down.
And though it's rather steep, and a bit rough. They make their way down it in the late afternoon sunshine, as it nears dusk.
The sun starts to set once they're down on the dry road, that comes from some gold mines to the south, and heads north to another village, here on the western side of the Maldin Hills.
And in the early evening when it's much cooler than it was during the day, they get to that village, which lies about four miles north of where they joined the old mine road.
As always when they enter one of the villages here in the Maldin Hills, they cause a bit of a stir. For the simple fact they have a large, and extremely dangerous ork with them. Who is more irritable than normal due to the hot summer that the Maldin Hills is experiencing at the moment. And who most of the locals don't actually know is an ork.
But in this particular village. They cause even more a stir than normal. Because quite a few of the hillmen know what Dorkindle is, and more importantly who he is.
As some of them were the wagon drivers from nearly twenty years ago. When the large ork and lord Farque stole from the mines to the south of here. And paid the wagon drivers to take the gold to the city-state of Vexil nearly two and half thousand miles to the east. From there it was flown south to the lands Farque.
Those locals who remember the ork warleader don't know to be happy or frightened at the appearance of Dorc da Orc.
For the last time he was here in the Maldin Hills, he threatened to kill them and their families, eat their bodies and fuck all their livestock. And not necessarily in that order. If they didn't do what they were told.
Then again, in all their lives. They'd never earned as much as when they took those wagons of gold east nearly twenty years ago. Paid in gold bars, which a couple of the hillmen still have a few of.
As usual once the commotion dies down, and field commander Drubine decides to stay here for a while. They spend the rest of the evening going around asking the villagers a number of questions.
Once they regather in an empty house that the hillmen let them stay in, they discuss what they've found out.
"They know nothing of her" says Shur Kee the monk as he lights a lamp and some candles he's been able to borrow from the family next door.
"Same" says Lisell Maera who has just swept the floor with a ragged broom that was in a corner.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic grunts in agreement after checking out the rest of the empty house. Which is devoid of window shutters, and a back door, which allows the cooling night breeze inside.
"I'm not surprised at that" says Tamric Drubine who has picked up a couple of chairs that were lying on the floor.
And after he puts them at the table, and sits upon one, the young field commander asks "And the other thing?".
The other three shake their heads no, as Lis puts on the table some of the food she purchased from the villagers.
As they do, Dorc da Orc enters through the open front door, carrying four small barrels of the dark red, sweet wine that the hillmen prefer to produce.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world, also has a haunch of roast goat with him.
Much to the disgust of the myriad of voices in his head, loudest of all being the voice of his mother.
All of whom he ignores, as he's too hot, and hungry and not to mention too thirsty to argue with them this night.
"Dorc did you find anything out?" asks field commander Drubine as the ork weaponsmith sits down on the floor with a grunt, right infront of the back door where the evening breeze is coming in.
"They got fucken plenty of booze and foods" says Dorkindle as he tears off the top of one of the small barrels, then starts drinking from it.
"No i mean, why we're here" says the nobleborn teenager originally from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin, as he sits there at the table taking things out of his pack.
"Oh, are we fucken here for something?" asks the large ork who blinks owlishly in the candle and lamp light as he looks at Tam wondering what he's going on about.
"Never mind" dryly says the young field commander with a roll of his eyes.
"We'll never find her at this rate" says Lisell Maera in the elven language as she sits on the other chair, while Shur Kee the monk helps sir Percavelle Lé Dic or Percy as he's more commonly called by the others, to take off his armour.
The son and former heir of a previous knight of castle Drubine, located in the kingdom of Sarcrin slightly nods his head, then quietly says in elven "We still have to try" followed by "We know she's somewhere here in this hill country".
Tamric Drubine pauses for a moment or two, then he continues on with "I was thinking about basing ourselves here for a while, buying some horses and going out to the other villages and communities here in this part of the hills to see if we can find her".
After a moments contemplation, Lis says "Sounds a good enough plan i guess" followed by "Hopefully someone knows of her whereabouts".
Then after a slight pause, the attractive young woman who is originally from the coastal city-state of Brattonbury, asks the nobleborn teenager "And the other thing?" she continues with "Those who are lost?".
Looking from Dorc da Orc sitting by the backdoor, drinking from a barrel of sweet red wine, while he chews on a haunch of roast goat.
Then looking over at Shur Kee the monk and sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who have finally got the last of the nobleborn knight's armour off.
Then looking at Lisell Maera sitting at the table with him, Tamric Drubine quietly says to her "Are they lost?" followed by "Or are we the lost ones?". Lis just nods, as she has no answer for that . . . . . .

A Grand Design 55.

Winter. The Kingdom Of Girdane.

They leave the city of Oaklynn in the middle of the night. Heading east out of the city, across the river Tambir, then south.
With the mercenary army from the lands Farque, are most of the armies from the duchies of Falosen, Girnath and Delmar. Along with the three dukes of those duchies who rebelled against the crown.
On this cold winters night, and under the cover of darkness. They enter the woods just two and half miles from the city that's the capital of the kingdom of Girdane.
Once they're in the woods, they head to a hole in the ground that's nearby, and enter it. Going underground into the tunnel beneath.
There they make their way through a portal in a gnome's tunnel. And from one moment to the next, they go from the duchy of Marsin in the east of the kingdom.
To being on the border of the duchies of Wostin and Fandell, in the central region of the kingdom, over a hundred miles from the city of Oaklynn.
They make their way up, and go through what was a lair of a white worm. And get above ground, in a completely different woods. Compared to the one they just left, over a hundred miles away.
They camp there for the rest of the night, in and around the woods, where the portal to the east of the kingdom was located.
And by early morning, they're on the move again, heading westwards as they make their way back to the very west of the kingdom.
They travel for the next four days through the central and western regions of Girdane. Spreading the word that lord Sammis is no longer the regent of Oaklynn, and that he has been executed. And that duke Furnek's oldest son Marcco is the new regent of Oaklynn.
But more importantly, they spread the word that the kingdom of Girdane has a new king, and that it is duke Tremane of Isanor.
When they get into the west of the kingdom, they're treated like heroes. Especially when they cross into the duchy of Dalmar from the duchy of Poldis.
When the locals see that their duke and his army has returned victorious. There's celebrations in villages and farming communities. Bringing the mid winter festival forward in some cases, as they celebrate the successful rebellion against the crown.
It's the same in the duchies of Girnath and Falosen when their dukes and armies split off from the others and return home.
Eventually it's only the duke of Dalmar and his army along with the mercenary army from the lands Farque who are traveling together.
And the duke's army slowly decreases in size as they cross the duchy, as the soldiers and their local lords return to their communities.
By the time they return to the town of Salme, the largest town in the duchy of Dalmar. There's just under a thousand soldiers left with their duke. Along with the mercenary army of nearly ten thousand from the lands Farque, who the dukes of Dalmar, Girnath and Falosen hired for their rebellion.
While most of the Farqian mercenary army continue westwards beyond the large town of Salme.
Some of them go into town with the duke and the remainder of his army.
An army that's greeted by the townsfolk like heroes as they make their way through the streets on a windy and chilly, though sunny winters day.
With duke Hilloc of Dalmar riding at the head of his army. While beside him rides his younger sister the lady Mera. Who has had tears of joy in her eyes ever since she first caught sight of her home town, which she has not seen in more than two years.
A little bit later in the day, in the Wayfarer Inn, some of the group after collecting what they left behind here in Salme.
Are in the back courtyard, sitting at some of the tables in the tree lined yard. Which is rather comfortable, as it isn't so windy here in the middle of town. And what wind there is, it's fairly light as the trees at the back of inn gives plenty of shelter from it.
As Dorc da Orc drinks from a barrel of ale as he sits beneath a tree, eating a leg of roast lamb. Lisell Maera the messenger asks "Where are we off to now?".
"I have no idea" replies Arvelle Ganard the plainsman who sits at the same table with the attractive young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, here in the back courtyard of the Wayfarer Inn.
The tall plainsman with the shaved head, looks over at his fellow councillor, Mira Reinholt the mage, who is sitting at the next table along, beneath one of the trees, where he's reading a book.
The once powerful mage who heard the question from Lisell Maera, shrugs his shoulders in reply to the look from his fellow councillor, Arvelle Ganard.
Then the mage Reinholt who is sitting with Shur Kee the monk, goes back to reading his book. A book on the theories of magic, more than actual spellcraft.
"See" says the tall plainsman who is a former illegal wrecker "No idea" adds councillor Ganard. Who is infact not a plainsman from the Kaldel Plains, but is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who happens to inhabit the body of Arvelle Ganard.
Lisell Maera or Lis as she's more commonly called by the others in the group nods her head, then she faintly smiles when Arvelle aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman dryly tells her "It would help if his royal thiefness fainted and told us if there was someone new to find".
"But apart from that" continues the former illegal wrecker from the Kaldel Plains in a more normal tone of voice, who follows that with "I assume we'll be looking for another conflict that's flared up somewhere across the Southlands".
On the wooden bench beneath the tree to the right of the table that Lis and Arvelle are sitting at. Sir Percavelle Lé Dic who is inspecting one of his swords. Grunts when he hears that. As the former earl of Lé Dic is still a little disappointed that he didn't see much in the way of action when he was with the mage Reinholt, the day the city of Oaklynn fell to their army, and the armies of the rebel dukes of Falosen, Girnath and Dalmar.
The cleric Beldane walks out from the back of the Wayfarer Inn, and joins Tovis the war engineer at another of the tables in the back courtyard, on this sunny winter's day, here in the town of Salme, in the duchy of Dalmar.
They, along with the others, with the exception of Dorc da Orc, look up to one of the trees, where Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy says "They're coming back".
The spy originally from the elven principality of Alínlae, climbs down the tree he's been up, where he's been looking towards the duke's castle, where it sits upon a hill nearby, on the western edge of town.
And he makes his way across the back courtyard to sit at the table that Beldane the cleric and Tovis the war engineer are sitting at. "They shouldn't be long" the spy Tanith informs the others.
And a short while later, Tamric Drubine the field commander walks from the back door of the inn, followed by Helbe the elven thief, and finally lord Farque.
The three of them have been meeting with duke Hilloc of Dalmar and others up in the nearby ducal castle.
"That everything?" asks Mira Reinholt the mage as Helbe the elven thief sits down at the table he and Shur Kee the monk are sitting at.
While Tamric Drubine sits down at the table where Arvelle aka Zubutai the son of Timagin, and Lisell Maera are sitting at.
"Yes" answers lord Farque who remains standing "Where too then?" asks the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil, his homeland that he's in exile from.
"We'll leave soon and join the rest of our army" says the undead warlord who wanders across the courtyard to stand next to where Dorc da Orc is sitting against the base of a tree.
"They'll return home for now" adds the heavily armoured deathlord who is also known by the name of Draugadrottin to the people of his lands.
"While we search for another conflict, and if there's anyone willing to hire one of our armies" continues the lord and ruler of the lands Farque, who looks over at Helbe the elven thief as he adds "That's unless something, or i should say, someone else pops up".
The young elven noble who is from the island principality of Laerel rather hopes not. As he still has no control over his power of foresight. And he hates it when it arises, and takes over, knocking him out in the process.
It hasn't happened in about nine months, when it last revealed that they were to find Beldane the cleric.
The highly talented elven magic user who is the grandson of the ruling prince of Laerel, hopes it won't arise for another nine months, preferably longer, much longer.
"Got any control over that yet?" asks lord Farque in the royal elven language.
"No" sourly says Helbe the elven thief in the same language.
"You should probably work on that" dryly says the lord of the death realm.
I'd rather not, the young elven noble sourly thinks to himself.
Switching back to the common language, the undead warlord who is also known by the name of Des'tier to an older generation of elves who might know who he is, asks "Everybody got everything?".
Everyone responds in the positive, and after the deathlord of Farque nudges Dorc da Orc with a steel boot, and asks him in the ork language "You as well cunt?".
And the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world replies with a grunt in the positive as he gnaws on the bone of the leg of lamb he's stripped bare.
The heavily armoured deathlord says in common to the group in the back courtyard of the Wayfarer Inn "We might as well get going then".
With all of their gear and possessions, they make their way from the Wayfarer Inn, and head west through the town of Salme.
Once they're on the road that goes west out of town, the lord and ruler of the lands Farque says "The others aren't all that far ahead" followed by "Just a few miles".
The undead warlord glances at Helbe the elven thief, and the elven magic user nods his hooded head, then with Narladene the ground pixie upon his right shoulder, the elven master assassin disappears as he shifts away.
They walk along the road, making their way westwards to catch up to the rest of the army from the lands Farque. Who are heading west out of the duchy of Dalmar, and the kingdom of Girdane.
As they walk down the road on this windy, though sunny winter's day here in the very west of the kingdom of Girdane.
Tamric Drubine the young field commander in the armies of Farque looks back at the town of Salme.
And in the afternoon sunlight, he spots a few people up on the ramparts of the ducal castle. Looking in this direction, watching them leave Salme, and the duchy of Dalmar.
Duke Hilloc of Dalmar after deploying some of his soldiers who remained here in Salme while the rest of them went east to fight against the crown.
Sending them out to patrol throughout the duchy, to keep an eye out for any of the waagen who might still be about, as there's some of them still in western and central Girdane.
Makes his way up through the ducal castle. Greeting those castle servants who remained here in Salme, quietly chatting with those he knows well.
All of whom are overjoyed and frankly relieved that their duke has returned. And returned after successfully defeating the crown in the rebellion. So much so that there's both a new regent of the capital city of Oaklynn. As well as a new king of Girdane. One who has already changed the tax laws concerning the three most western duchies in the kingdom.
The duke of Dalmar, who had a joyous reunion with his wife and young children, makes his way up a winding set of stairs in one of the castle towers.
And comes up on the south facing ramparts of the outer wall of the large castle that's been his family's ancestral home for nearly four centuries.
Duke Hilloc makes his way along the top of the wall, and stops and speaks with his cousin sir Passic the swordsman, his guard captain and a couple of other officers in his army.
They're all in cheerful mood, glad to be home, and glad to have success in their rebellion against the crown.
They chuckle over a joke that sir Passic shares with them. Then after the duke of Dalmar asks his guard captain to send out regular patrols more often throughout the duchy.
The duke makes his way further along the battlements, to where he sees his younger sister, the lady Mera standing on the parapet, looking away to the south.
Not far away, beside the next tower along, the house maid Lissa stands, waiting for the lady.
"Good to be home" says duke Hilloc of Dalmar as he stops beside his younger sister.
"That it is" says the lady Mera with a smile upon her face even though it's windy along the parapet.
The young noblewoman who left the town of Salme and the duchy of Dalmar over two years ago to visit the capital city Oaklynn, where she was taken captive by lord Sammis, and forced into marriage to him, then adds "It definitely is".
The duke of Dalmar puts an arm around his younger sister, who says to him "Think we'll ever see them again?".
"Who?" asks duke Hilloc "Them" replies the lady Mera who points at those on the road heading west that she's been watching for the last little while.
"I have no idea" says the duke of Dalmar as he sees who they are "Maybe" adds the nobleman who led the rebellion against the crown.
Duke Hilloc rather hopes he doesn't ever see the mercenaries again. As they've cost him, and duke Korros of Girnath, and duke Lombasil of Falosen a rather large fortune to hire.
For all that they were the reason the rebellion against the crown was successful.
The duke of Dalmar doesn't particularly want to see them again. Because it will mean there's conflict afoot. As he figures they'll seek out conflict and war no matter where they go. Something he doesn't want to see anytime soon, or ever again.

Author's Note - Here ends "A Grand Design". The main storyline will return in "The Lost Ones".