Bear Territory, House Baikov
After the morning had come, Elizabeth was quite certain that camping outside was not for her. The ground was so hard and uneven that her back ached, and loose desert soil had entered her bedroll during the night. Around their campsite were the charred corpses of scorpions and tarantulas that had been fried by Damian’s ward. Despite his self-depreciation, he at least seemed able enough to keep out vermin. Breakfast consisted of water from her companion’s canteens and dry biscuits and beef. This was the reason people stayed at inns, so they would not have to deal with the wilderness.
Regardless of the problems, they got back up and continued their way. The road they were on was well traveled, mostly by more volunteers heading down to Wall Visalia, seeking fame and glory, along with farmers and merchants on the way to sell their goods. Elizabeth had seen many strange and unique people come through and stay at her mother’s inn, but she had never seen so many together heading to one place.
Elizabeth saw many young men and women in the colors of houses both great and small. While House Baikov was struggling to get resources as of late, they at least had no shortage of volunteers. Times of peace bred more children than the various noble families could afford to take care of or give lands to, so service on Wall Visalia seemed like an honorable and safe alternative to the intrigues of the northern courts. Most of these highborn went along with it under the northern perception that guarding Wall Visalia was nothing more than glorified guard duty. Most of them would not live past their first year on the wall.
“Impressive isn’t it, all these young nobles heading down to make a name for themselves.” Damian decided to strike up a conversation with her.
“Is it normal to have these many people?” Elizabeth asked.
“Not as many as you would think, failures like me or altruists like Madeline tend to make up the majority, but this year is what is known as an open recruitment year. Five years of honorable and notable service on the wall and you can gain a position of power within the families of the Bear Duchies. Many traveling with us are the youngest children of their families, and rather than getting settled into some subordinate role in their Duchy's military or diplomatic corps, they have decided to try their luck down on the wall, hoping to gain a position of actual value. The older siblings are getting the inheritance and titles, and they have nothing to lose, though if the stories are true, most of them will not last long. The wall is under constant attack, and in some mad quest to prove their worth, many meet unfortunate ends.”
Madeline had decided to join in on the conversation. “Still, open recruitment years are important for the Baikov and their vassals, when one is declared it is a sign that their numbers are below optimal levels, so they need to recruit outside talent. Times of peace in the north, minus the four Sanctioned Wars for the Bluegrass Valley, have led to a surplus in children. Nobles across the Kingdom complain and claim that the Baikov and their vassals are exaggerating the threat to gain the resources of the other families. This open recruitment year is one of the only ways they can get support from the rest of the Kingdom. Archduchess Evangeline de Lorme and Grand Master of the Merchants Guild, Kurt the Skinflint, are some of the loudest and most vocal critics of the House Baikov, though even they cannot complain at the opportunity an open recruitment year represents.”
While the official political and mercantile intrigue was unknown to her, Elizabeth did know of Grand Master Kurt. Ms. Keeli had apprenticed under him, and she had described him as a treacherous weasel of a man, working those under him to the bone while trying to find every single method possible to avoid paying them what they had earned. However, she was still perplexed by Madeline speaking out against House De Lorme, to whom the de Garniers held fealty. “Aren’t the de Garnier vassals to the de Lorme?” Elizabeth asked Madeline.
“In a sense we are, but my family is a bit weird amongst the Peacock, while we are appreciated for our skills in healing and the pursuit of peaceful relations, the other families look down on us for not behaving like proper nobles, referring to us as the Peahens.” Madeline chuckled at this.
“There is a lot of bitterness toward the Peacock amongst the Bear, though the de Garnier family are held in higher regard over their foppish cousins, otherwise poor Madeline here wouldn’t be in for a warm reception,” said Damian.
“The arrogance and petty shortsightedness of the families of the Kingdom will be the doom of us all.” The three turned around to see a handsome young man, by the standards of the kingdom, standing behind them. Unlike the others, he had no color or noble heraldry to his steel armor, only one emblem of a golden blade flanked by two angels on his chest plate, over his heart.
The man's helmet was hanging from a cord around his belt, with his sword and shield attached to his back, covered by a white cape. This man had a fearsome lupine face, a forehead topped with well-groomed silver-gray hair, and piercing blue eyes that went well with his peach-toned skin.
Next to him, his companion was even more outlandish, a towering seven-foot-tall figure, whose top was unclothed, only wearing woolen pants and animal hide boots. This man had a battle axe hanging from each hip. The man was built like a mountain, pure muscle, with piercing dark blue eyes, and a wild mane of hair so blonde it was almost white. Behind them was a sparsely laden pack mule. “My apologies, it was presumptuous of me to interrupt your private conversation.” The handsome man said.
“Oh, it’s no problem, always happy to see that I am not the only one who sees the flaws in our system,” Damian said with a deeper tone to his voice, trying to measure up to the two men who made him feel inadequate. “My name is Damian Diotrephes, and this is Madeline De Garnier and Ms. Elizabeth.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you three, I am Sir Frederick of the Order of the Empyrean Blade, and this here is my compatriot, Ragnar Doth of the Frostborn Clan.” Ragnar just nodded at them.
“An Oathsworn of the Empyrean Blade is this far south in Baikov lands? Also, what is a barbarian warrior from the north doing so far south?” Elizabeth asked, not realizing that her question might be construed as rude. Ragnar seemed annoyed, but Sir Frederick moved in.
Elizabeth’s skepticism was warranted. The Oathsworn of the Empyrean Blade was one of the Seven Orders who swore a binding oath and who sought to fill out a particular niche in the Kingdom of Lions. The Order of the Empyrean Blade was known as a defender of justice who advocated for and represented the common man while exposing and destroying corruption. The Empyrean Blade also sought out and terminated criminals who plagued the Kingdom, such as human traffickers, drug dealers, and dangerous foreigners.
And this made the fact that he was traveling with a northern foreigner so confusing. Past the Frost Barrier Mountains that guarded the northern border of the Kingdom of Lions was the Land of Ice and Fog, a savage and wild place filled with fearsome Raiders, Witches, Tormags, Giants, and other stranger creatures.
The inhabitants denied the gods of the Kingdom of Lions and the truth of the world that was taught. Instead, they chose to raid coastal settlements, carrying off food, manufactured goods, and innocents which they enslaved as thralls, as the raiders considered manual labor to be beneath them.
“The Order of the Valiant Heart does an excellent job overseeing the lands of the Bear, I’m just here as an escort for my friend.” Motioning to Ragnar. “Ragnar was captured by slavers who had journeyed north and caught him by surprise. Amongst the more depraved elements of our nobility are individuals who prize foreigners like Ragnar as exotic servants and pets. Ragnar here wound up in the hands of Countess Diana Diotrephes as her manservant.” It was not uncommon for Southerners to exact retribution upon the Northmen by kidnapping and enslaving them.
Slavery, for the most part, was forbidden in the Kingdom of Lions, though it was still often practiced in secret. Some would argue that the existence of the common folk was slavery in all but name, but most regions gave the commoners rights and protections that a slave would never have, except for House Diotrephes, who were infamous for their abuse.
Damian knew this and blushed at the mention of his relative. “Cousin Diana always had a talent for manipulation magic, with little to no moral scruples.” This got Ragnar riled up as he reached for his axes.
“That witch was kin of yours.” The accented Ragnar had a look of murder in his eye. Realizing his precarious situation, Damian tried to save himself.
“I wouldn’t call us kin, yes, we are related by blood but growing up I was one of her favorite targets of torment. Your cousin used to put me under her spells and make me do the most embarrassing and degrading things imaginable. And the family only encouraged her, she was a prodigy after all, and I was just a pitiable failure. The only word I got from my mother on the matter was “If you weren’t such a failure and a disgrace, you wouldn’t have a problem.” This story seemed to assuage Ragnar who regained control over himself and moved his hands off his axes.
“Your cousin was a vile witch, she treated me like her pet, I am a warrior, not a pet.” The angry tone was still in Ragnar’s voice, but Damian could tell it was not directed at him.
“My Order found out about her dealings and rescued Ragnar and the other victims, many of whom weren’t foreigners. Unfortunately, the Archduchess Medea Diotrephes got her niece out of trouble.” There was a fierce bitterness in Sir Frederick’s voice, and Damian decided not to mention that Medea was his mother. “However, we were able to rescue her “playthings”, most of them we were able to return to their families, though Ragnar here is a unique case.”
“I’m not welcome back home, so I saw no need to go back.” Ragnar decided to leave it at that, and no one felt the desire to pry further.
“Fortunately, the Baikov declared an open recruitment year, and they do not care about your past, or even your heritage, only your martial skill. So, I decided to escort Ragnar here to Wall Visalia, where he can offer his services as a warrior and find his place in our Kingdom.”
Such was the nature of the Oathsworn, to do such noble deeds. Oathsworn gained power by swearing binding oaths that they had to follow lest they be stripped of their power by the Golden King Alnardun who oversaw them all. The Order of the Empyrean Blade sought justice by advocating for the common folk and hunting down and punishing criminals. The Order of the Valiant Heart fought alongside House Baikov on Wall Visalia, turning back the darkness with their holy fury.
The Order of the Fierce Daughter was an all-female order that worked to protect women and their children from spousal and parental abuse and provided shelter and counseling for abuse victims. Conversely, the Order of the Honorable Son was an all-male order that sought to protect men from exploitation and to help them in times of need and hardship. The Order of the Holy Flame worked hard to hunt down and destroy illegal cults and to perform exorcisms on cult victims who had been possessed.
The Order of Righteous Cause served as peacekeepers, seeking to mediate disputes and foster cooperation and community. Finally, the Order of True Thoughts sought to limit the influence of foreign and heretical ideas upon the populace. They also rooted out and destroyed foreigners residing in the Kingdom, which made Ragnar a prime target for them if he did not find his place with the Baikov. Unlike the Inquisitors and Templars of the Owl, the Oathsworn were, for the most part, held in high regard by the common folk.
The group continued their way, now with Sir Frederick and Ragnar as companions.
As time went on, Sir Frederick could not help but continue to look at Elizabeth. Elizabeth, not being one who cared about people who looked at her, was confused by this. To Elizabeth, if Sir Frederick was looking at her out of carnal interest, she would need to shut that down as she had zero interest in any romantic pursuits. Not that an Oathsworn should have had any carnal interests in the first place. “Not to be rude Ms. Elizabeth, but what is a commoner like yourself doing heading down to Wall Visalia? If you seek a chance to prove your worth and claim a place on the wall, I will not stop you. However, you don't have the bearing of a warrior or spellcaster, your movements are more akin to a barmaid than someone who would seek glory and honor down on the wall.”
Elizabeth, relieved that he was only curious about her being so far south, decided to enlighten him. “Sir Frederick you have very perceptive eyes; I am an inn Keeper in training. To be honest, I am not completely sure how I got down here. Last night was my Coming of Age and this creepy man by the name of Methuselah tried to kidnap me. My companions and I think he might have been a human trafficker. I was able to escape him in a flash of light, Damian thinks that I’m some kind of Arc-Blood and that my powers awakened to get me out of trouble.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“It’s around the Coming of Age that a new Arc-Blood power first manifests if they don’t come from an already established Arc-Blood bloodline.” Said Damian.
“Still to come all the way down from Royal Lands in a flash must be the sign of a formidable Arc-Blood. Surely you would not mind putting your budding powers to good use on the front lines, protecting the innocent from the vile hordes of the Dark Wastes?” Sir Frederick was in full recruitment mode.
“I have no such intention, as soon as we get to the Wall, I am going to explain my situation and head back home.”
“Well, that does sound reasonable, and once I drop Ragnar off, I can escort you back to your home. The Kingdom can be a dangerous place for a fair maiden such as yourself. Plus, I will need your testimony to help file a report about this human trafficker, Methuselah, we’ll need to know his appearance and his mannerisms.”
“It would be good to have an escort back. If my geography is correct, we have a long journey ahead of us. At least three months by foot if I’m not mistaken?”
“I will obtain horses to make the journey faster, though it will still be a long trip back. I swear upon my honor as an Oathsworn of the Empyrean Blade to return you home safely. Though we may need to make a few detours on our way back, I still have my duties to attend to.”
Elizabeth would not mind the long journey back alongside Sir Frederick. Sir Frederick seemed friendly enough, and so far, he appeared to be honorable. Still, she was curious about him. “So, Sir Frederick, why did you join the Order of the Empyrean Blade?”
“Since I was a boy, I’ve been driven to aid those in need and ensure that truth and justice prevail in the Kingdom. I desire to serve the realm and the common folk till the day I die. The only family that I need are the members of my order and our brother and sister orders.”
“That’s quite heartwarming, did you come up with that speech on the spot or is it something you memorized from your handbook?” Damian, being a more jaded individual, decided to get snarky with Sir Frederick.
“Fighting for a cause greater than yourself is nothing to scoff at. Self-sacrifice is a virtue we should all strive to embrace.” Sir Frederick was oblivious to Damian’s snark.
Ragnar was nowhere near as oblivious to snark as Sir Frederick was and began to eye Damian with suspicion.
“Glad to see that someone else here shares my altruistic spirit.” Madeline chimed in, trying to diffuse the tension she could sense.
The group continued their journey until they reached the village of Bears Rest, the final settlement on this road to Wall Visalia. It was a small and quaint community, with no more than twenty homesteads located in the village proper with the most impressive structure being the squat red fortress of the local Earl, the lowest noble rank that could possess a keep of their own. In the middle of the town stood the impressive statue of a fearsome-looking man, wearing House Remington armor. Around the statue, people keep laying down flowers.
“Who is that figure and why is he in Remington armor?” Elizabeth asked.
“Wait, you’re from the lands of House Remington but you don’t know the story of Randall Remington, the Ginger Giant.” Madeline, Sir Frederick, and Damian were quite shocked at this, Ragnar just kept his usual expression.
“Well, obviously not if I am asking about him.”
Sir Frederick decided to enlighten Elizabeth. “Count Randall Remington is a legend throughout the Kingdom. At a time when the Baikov had been pushed to their breaking point, he descended from the north with a large army he had gathered up from the surrounding families, including his knights and soldiers. The Remington family was furious at this, it was the family’s duty to protect the Galdwin Dynasty, not to go running off to fight someone else’s war. Count Randall responded that whether around the Royal Palace or down on the southern walls, there were enemies to the Galdwin Dynasty and that it was his duty to fight them.”
“Fortunately, his army came down at the right time, a terrifying force of foul creatures from the Dark Wastes had managed to break their way through Baikov lines and were wreaking havoc across the countryside. Count Randall and his army met them on this very spot, challenging the horde to battle. It was an epic confrontation between these two armies, and while the horde was broken, victory came with a heavy price. Count Randall had led his forces on the front lines. Sadly, a group of elite Ri-Grib assassins managed to surround him and cut him off from the rest of his army. The Ri-Gribs killed him, but not before he took out all twelve of them. Count Randall's last words to his army were, “Don’t give up the assault, we got these wretches on the run.” The actions of him and his army stopped one of the worst invasions this Kingdom had ever seen.”
Elizabeth felt bad about not knowing the story of Count Randall Remington, though she could understand why she never heard the story. The Remington family took their duty seriously, any Remington, no matter how noble, would be looked down upon if he left his territory without permission. The sad truth of the matter was that Count Randall was stricken from the Remington records, and all were forbidden from mentioning him ever again.
Still, Elizabeth knew in her heart that he did the right thing. All five traveled together to the local flower vendor, Elizabeth even managed to scrounge a bronze coin out of her blouse, enough to buy a single flower. Elizabeth and the rest went over to the statue and placed their flowers around it, bowing their heads for a moment of silent respect to this proud and courageous hero. Written into the base of the statue, was this information. “Count Randall Remington, first son of Count Robert Remington of Castle Greenfield and the town of Barrington. Born 780 died 817, proud hero and champion of the Kingdom of Lions. “Don’t give up the assault, we got these wretches on the run.”
“Count Randall was only 27 when he died.” There is a tone of sadness in Elizabeth’s voice. Even more, she realized he was from her very home.
Sir Frederick responded “In war, many who are younger than him die. It is not the span of our life that counts, it is the impact on the lives of those around us that counts. Count Randall inspired many young men and women in life, and he has continued to do so in death. Count Randall was the spitting image of honor and nobility, quick with a joke even quicker to laugh, but also possessing a righteous anger when he saw evil in the world. Count Randall is a man I have striven to emulate, and while I may never live up to the high standards he set, I can try. Count Randall's story may have been expunged in the lands he grew up in, but across the Kingdom of Lions, his legend lives on.”
The group left the statue, Elizabeth and Madeline went to stake out a place to sit and eat lunch while Sir Frederick, Damian, and Ragnar went off to purchase food. Sir Frederick insisted on paying for the women, and since Elizabeth had no money now, she was not going to stop him.
Right after they found the right spot, they saw Ragnar storming over to them in a huff, a look of frustration on his face.
“What’s the matter, Ragnar?” Madeline asked.
“The people here refused to serve me saying that barbarians do not deserve to eat the food of decent people.” There was blistering anger in Ragnar’s voice. “I never asked to come down here, I was stolen from my home by the “civilized” people of this land and exploited by one of your nobles. And now, as I head down to help defend their land, they treat me like I am an unwanted animal.”
“Give them time Ragnar, once you begin fighting on the wall they will come to respect and accept you.” Madeline continued to assuage his anger.
“I hope you are right.” Ragnar was still in a foul mood.
Damian and Sir Frederick returned, Sir Frederick carrying a tray with a pitcher and five glasses, along with a spare canteen, while Damian carried a tray with five sandwiches and a wooden bowl filled with fried slices of cut potatoes. There was a food stand in the middle of town next to the statue that catered to travelers and even provided supplies if they were needed.
The group put the food and drinks down as Sir Frederick handed the canteen over to Elizabeth. “Here you go on a journey, you should never be without a canteen.” Considering how thirsty Elizabeth had become on their morning journey in the desert, she was grateful, it even appeared to be full.
And with that, they settled down to their meal.
Further south, Zarathustra’s dark plan was underway.
Wall Visalia, Bear Territory, House Katzev
Little Mari was moving to aid her master’s scheme. Fortunately, the disguise was holding up and she appeared to be a Halmen in every biological way. Unfortunately, she had caught the attention of some loser Grib tribe and their Grib Dogs, who were now chasing her. Fortunately, these amateurs were too incompetent and unskilled to keep up with her as she scurried through the jutting rocks and barren trees, keeping five steps ahead of them and their clumsy attempts at catching her.
Those chasing her would serve to help establish some credibility with the defenders. True, their lives would be sacrificed, but to any true Grib, life was cheap, and nothing of value would be lost with this group of idiots. Mari's salvation came in a hail of slings, while a group of Houses Baikov Halmen war dog riders came to her rescue, charging forward and skewering the Gribs and their mounts with their lances. Mari decided to catch her breath as the Halmen’s finished off the Gribs. The Halmen’s rode on over to her and leveled their lances at her.
“State who you are, your commanding officer, and what business you have here.” The squad sergeant demanded of her.
“I am Corporal Ivana; my commanding officer was Captain Anya Zarakova of House Zarakova’s 21st Scout Regiment. I am all that is left of my squad, I’ve been hounded for the past few days coming here with urgent and grave news.” The spell Zarathustra cast imparted that information onto Mari, along with other personal details that would help her keep up the charade.
“What type of urgent news do you have?” The Sergeant asked.
“A massive army is on its way towards Mt. Defiance, they’re seeking to overrun House Zarakova.”
“Why haven’t we gotten word of this already?”
“The army is killing all the scouts who come across them, they’re also using some strange magic to conceal their movements. This army is being led by a group of exiled nobles with some potent magic at their disposal. House Zarakova won’t know what hit them until it’s too late.”
“Very well, we’ll take you with us to see the General Dimitri Baikov. You’re in luck, his brother the Archduke is also visiting the fortress, so with any good fortune we will be able to rally an army together with haste.”
The group gave her a lift to the eastern gate, Zarathustra’s intended target. Mari braced herself, the gate was designed to undo any illusion or transformation that might be on those who travel through the gates by Annabelle Stanfeld, that was known by Annabelle Stanfeld. The Skinsuit spell was a new creation of Zarathustra’s own making, and thus Annabelle had no idea to add it to the list of spells to ward against.
Mari made it through the gate without revealing her true form. The Halmen led her through a labyrinth of hallways to the nearest command post, which served as the primary base of operations for the eastern section of the wall due to its proximity to a major road. Inside the room, Archduke Yuri Baikov was in a discussion with his younger brother Dimitri.
Yuri was a giant of a man with a graying beard and hair. Dimitri was not as large as his brother, and his hair and beard were still black, each had olive skin, textured like old leather. Both men wore heavy armor, bearing the gray, brown, and black heraldry of the houses of the Bear Duchies.
While Yuri Baikov was the Archduke of all Bear lands, he left the defense of Wall Visalia to his younger siblings. General Dimitri Baikov was the eastern commander of Wall Visalia and its forces. The general also held the noble title of Grand Duke, but his duties as the eastern commander came first. It was odd for Yuri to visit his younger brother, someone he had the highest level of trust and faith in. If the Archduke was here there must have been a reason, or so Mari thought. Both men turned to her, giving her a curious look.
“Corporal, what do you have to report?” The general was quick to get to the point, the Baikov do not like to waste time with pointless pleasantries and flowery language.
Mari stood up straight and gave a full salute. It was satisfactory since neither man said anything. “General, I come bearing grave news, a massive horde of wasteland abominations is marching upon Mt. Defiance, using magic to conceal their numbers, and killing all scouts they come across, I am the only survivor of my squad. By the grace of the Nine, I was able to make it to you with this news.”
The Archduke became enraged at this news. “The impudence of these beasts will never cease to amaze me. The beasts must have a few exiles helping them.” The Archduke turned to his brother, “Dimitri, I am going to need to requisition most of your defenders along with any other troops that can be spared from the other houses who can get here in time. In three days, we will muster the full might of the Eastern Legion of the Bear and march down to Mt. Defiance and smash these invaders. I cannot let Zoya face this assault on her own. I also want you to send word to the Western Gate and my central seat, The Halls of Defiance. I want them to rally what they can and join us on the march as soon as possible. We will go out in force and show these beasts that it is foolish to prod a bear.”
Inwardly Mari smiled, Zarathustra’s host would arrive at the eastern gate in six days, and most of the eastern Baikov army would be down south on a wild mite chase when her master struck. The other armies may prove troublesome but she was sure her master had timed everything exactly right. It would take the other legions too long to organize and sally out.
“Three days’ brother?” Dimitri was not sure about the timetable.
“We will need three days to rally the eastern garrisons from their castles and forts, and with a force that size, we have a three-day march to the Mt. Defiance. I know that I’ll be leaving you with a skeleton force, but if such a formidable force is focusing on the lands of House Zarakova, I don’t foresee a major attack upon the wall, you should be fine with the forces you have. Fortune smiles at us, most of the army is within three days of us, running invasion drills. Those who can’t make it in time will be advised to help man the wall.” With that, Yuri stormed out of the room to begin preparing.
Mari smiled inwardly; things were going even better than they had planned. Mari was a bit shocked that they were not second-guessing themselves or questioning her harder. The reputation of the Zarakovan scouts was so great that anything one said would be taken at face value.
Dimitri gave her a long hard look, and then his expression softened. “You have done well Corporal, rest here for now, after the ordeal that you’ve been through, I won’t send you back out into the field with the force. You’ll be on leave until this operation is over and I can promote you and assign you to a new squad.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Dismissed Corporal, the Sergeant will lead you to sleeping quarters.”
With that, Mari was led away, everything was going according to plan. By the time the primary force got here the eastern portion of the wall would be undermanned, with the Baikov army being too far away to respond. Yes, everything was aligned with perfection, she now had one last assignment, when Zarathustra struck, she was to kill General Dimitri. General Dimitri would never see her blades coming.
Chroniclers Notes
The legend of Count Randall Remington is a worthy tale in and of itself that I might share with you one day. As for the curious case of Ragnar, foreigners were not allowed in the Kingdom of Lions, but they made an exception in his case since he was a skilled warrior. If he had been without the escort of Sir Frederick, he would have been a marked man. Also, I cannot help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if Yuri and Dimitri had grilled Mari more, though, at the end of the day, we must accept that it would have been very unlikely for them to discover the truth. Even for creatures as clever as Gribs, Mari stood out as a rarity.
