“We are ever changing, ever moving. Let not the ties of fate bind us. But rather, let us find succor from the path which destiny hath lain out. Let us embrace the folly of the world and live as one who embraces their calling freely.”
- Ser Saren Calindor, Knight Order of Tempered Stars, “One’s Calling”
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Marsun, Ingramar
Lord Commander Stanislaw Stepan reclined comfortably into his chair. The window opened just a tad to let in a whiff to the cold northern air. The sun still shining down upon him, creating a blissful feeling as the heat and chill worked together to help him relax. His coffee was beside him, the steaming substance offering the promise of energy and respite after a hard day’s work It was a small break, but necessary.
For the past month, he and his forces sallied back and forth between Marsun and Volksgrad. Escorting supply caravan after supply caravan to give aid to the Ingramarian city’s beleaguered defenders. They even occasionally joined the city as defenders, their presence alone bolstering morale amongst the people that they were not forgotten. Though oftentimes, Stephan grappled with himself about the truth of matters. That aside from the meagre aid given to him and his troops, the south has more or less ignored the blight that ravaged Ingramar.
For months, the brave people of Marsun have held against the Dark Tide on their own. For months, the stalemated siege only grinded more and more bodies into dust as the unrelenting assault of demons barely slowed. Only with the arrival of a contingent of cryomancers of the Order of The Northern Winds mage’s tower did they earn themselves some reprieve.
The ice markets of Marsun now rested under the protective watch of massive enchanted ice walls that shone a brilliant blue across the countryside. It made the city a prime target for the demonic hordes but had also ensured that the effort required to breach such defenses had increased exponentially. It brought the city some time, time that they couldn’t have hoped to gain otherwise.
He twitched as he felt it. The faintest of vibrations. The creak as someone tried to hurriedly run up old wooden stairs. He sighed. If anyone ever wanted to reach him with any amount of rapidity, it meant one of two things. Either the High Marshall had orders for him. Or something had gone wrong. Knowing Marsun, he was very much certain it was the latter and tried to prepare himself.
More demon breaches? He pondered as the footsteps neared his door.
“Halt, state your business.” He heard his bodyguard ask.
“Urgent message for the Lord Commander, from the frontier brigade.” An unfamiliar voice answered.
“Let them in.” He called out..
The wooden doors creaked open. The noise echoing throughout his temporary office. Still, his company arrived less than two days ago and the Marsunians had done wonders in refurbishing the abandoned barracks. Not that they had much of a choice. The city was already overflowing with refugees from the rest of the Ingramarian Principality against the oncoming horde.
His attention turned to the disheveled looking now in his room. He wore the uniform of newly established Frostwatch Scouts. Standard leathers for scouts except with a white smock to help cover it. On his shoulder, the insignia of a twelve pointed star with an eye in the middle to represent the twelve principalities that former Ingramar and their jobs as observers. The man was scraggy, out of breath, but clearly stood at attention despite it all. Dedicated, good.
“Rest easy and breathe, then deliver your message.” Stepan commanded.
“Y-y-yes, my commander.” The man stammered as he hurriedly nodded.
Judging by his stature and demeanor, Stepan guessed that he was one of the scouts drawn directly from the ranks of the refugees. My commander is also a strange manner of addressing rank, his accent too, definitely local.
“Take your time.”
“T-th-thank you, my commander.”
Stepan took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste helping him come to terms with what was likely about to be a bitter day ahead. He carefully tucked away what few loose papers were on his desk, just in case.
After a minute, the man seemed to manage to catch his breath enough to look somewhat functional rather than on the verge of collapsing. Seeing this, Stepan motioned for him to sit. The scout obliged and sat down with a heavy creak. The furniture here was quaint, rustic, but somewhat charming, like most of Marsun.
“You may begin.” He instructed.
“Of course, my commander.” The man awkwardly saluted from his chair, “Uhh, umm, right. Report comes from krepost fourteen”
“Krepost…?” Stepan muttered, “Ah, fortress fourteen?”
“Yes, my commander.”
“Continue.”
“We’ve seen the unclean forces uhh, lower, around Marsun. There is, far less than usually.” Unclean means demons, right.
“Huh, some good news.” Stepan quirked an eyebrow.
“Yes, commander. H-however…” The man paused and gulped, afraid of ruining his mood. Too late now.
He gestured for the scout to continue.
“We’ve found signs of a breach near Talin Mir… err, Talin Village. Near the mountains of snow.”
“Sorry, a breach? What do you mean?”
“We see heavy equipment. Many big chorts and strigois with tool and wagons. Boyar Alexandru said we should tell you, my commander.” The scout answered and sniffled.
Lord Commander Stepan sat back in his chair and tried to get a better grasp of the situation. His brows furrowed as the implications became clear. The mages had succeeded in defending Marsun. But in return, had sent the demons scattering elsewhere. His blood chilled. There’s no one who can respond in time.
“Here. Drink. Warm up.” He growled and thrust the coffee at the startled scout.
Without waiting, he stomped over to his war table and cleared whatever there was away to reveal a map of Marsun and the Frostwinds.
In theory, the town that served as a hub for North-to-South trade was the only strategic corridor that existed to allow large armies or groups to move between the Frostwind Ranges. In theory, the mountains themselves were as much a natural barrier as a wall that was near impossible to scale even for monstrous creatures. In theory.
His eyes scanned the map. His fingers traced the trail from Marsun to Border Fortress 14. It was located halfway up the Frostwinds, a wretched place but near impenetrable given the harsh conditions. Those stationed there had the displeasure of being subject to horrific winds and icier chills, but had the luxury of not dying to a demon’s blade at any given moment. A fair trade.
He then searched around the mountain passes until he laid eyes on the sketches of a few scattered huts, likely different villages located in the mountains. All most likely already overrun by demonic patrols and burned to the ground. Of them all, labelled in common with only a singular letter ‘T’, was Talin. Next to it was a picture of a goat which Stepan assumed was the main product before the people there were slaughtered.
From Talin, he looked southwards to see where the demons might’ve breached. All parts of the mountain pass looked fairly inaccessible. Momentarily, relieved he almost sighed until he remembered the words of an old friend. The Inquisition has to seal a few areas.
His gaze wandered back over towards the frightened scout, who was still unsure about sipping the commander’s coffee out of respect or hygiene. Whatever the case, Stepan pondered the information. If there truly was a concerted effort to dig out an opening, then it would likely happen at three areas on the map amateurishly marked with pictures of oversized rocks. Narrowing the area to around Talin excluded one, and considering that of the remaining two, one was far higher up the mountains, he put his finger on the last sealed passage.
“Are you certain?” He asked the scout.
“Yes, my commander! We went to check but were fended off by the unclean camping near Talin.” The scout hastily replied.
“Hmm.” Stepan grumbled to him, one hand stroking his beard in contemplation.
He tried to take mental stock of his current forces. Aside from the Marsunian garrison and surviving Ingramarian army troopers, he still had his own company of winged knights and Volksgradian skirmishers. They needed to recon the area but also be ready to engage with any demonic forces and reseal the breach, should there be any. Making up his mind, he nodded to himself and stood up, startling the scout.
“Danick!” He called out.
The door swung open at once as Polkovnik Danick, his second in command, rushed inside, snapping a hasty salute before subtly glancing at the map. A stern man with limited tactical flexibility, but conservative enough that Stepan wasn’t worried about pointless losses of life without reason. More importantly, he had once served as a Volksgradian border guard, patrolling the forests and wilds. The right man for the job.
“Sir!” Danick acknowledged.
“We have reports from the Frostwatch that there could be a potential breach in the Frostwind, here.” He pointed to the area near Talin, “Gather ten riders. A team of engineers from the local garrison, and a squad or two from our guys as escort. This is a recon mission, but should the chance arise and reports proven correct. This is to become destroy and denial. Understood?”
“Understood, Lord Commander.” The younger officer saluted.
“If there is an emergency, push through the gap and seal it from the otherside then make it back to Volksgrad and inform the Marshal. Beyond that, assess the situation, seal the breach, and return here. Got it?”
“Yes sir!”
“Requisition what supplies you need and head out within the hour. And you, scout. I ask much of you, but lead them up the mountains and to Fortress Forteen if needed, understood?”
“Yes, my commander.”
“Both of you, dismissed. And while you’re at it, tell someone to fetch me the governor and Boyar Polina.”
“By your command.” Danick saluted as he left, the scout following after him.
Once they were outside and the door behind them shut once more, Stepan finally let out a sighed out loud. If the demons had truly breached then the numbers would be relatively small considering a lack of any other reports of division scale movements. But even a few reaching the unready southerners could plunge the world in chaos. He only hoped that there were those ready to stand agains the darkness, for only dark days lay ahead should the Tide truly arrive. Lord of Life and Goddess of the Stars, grant your people sanctuary and safety in these long days to come. May we emerge from our trials victorious while you grant us your blessings to repulse this evil. By the light and the stars.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
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Monte De Trisse, Gratia
“My lady, the Gratian Republic’s emissaries have arrived.” Seneschal Alain bowed respectfully as he informed her.
“Thank you. I shall attend to them momentarily.” Annalise replied.
The seneschal bowed once more and exited the room. The unbroken guard gently closing the door.
Annalise sighed, she was exhausted. Still, her duties called to her and she stood up, almost forgetting her crutch as she nearly fell. Stumbling forward, she managed to latch onto the side of her desk and pulled herself up, reaching one hand over to grapple the crutch that was leaning peacefully against the wall.
Her eyes danced wistfully to the large pedestal beside it, a display case sitting neatly on top. Her bow slept, unused since the day the took back Monte De Trisse. Since the day she came home. And yet, she could still feel it. The tautness of the bowstring, the exhilaration everytime she loosed an arrow. The panic that came from making sure that every shot went where it needed to. Back to the days she travelled with Runebound, with Gil and the others. Back when she had them, when she could walk and prance about however she wished.
“A different time.” Pyra giggled.
Annalise turned to find the princess sitting atop the desk, her ghostly form looking far too corporeal for her likely.
“A better time.” Annalise muttered.
Pyra lowered her head to match Annalise’s gaze, the princess with a terrifying grin on her face.
“A simpler time.”
“But better.”
“Heheh. Do you detest me so?”
Annalise wanted to answer but didn’t. The truth was, she didn’t know either. So many things had happened the past year that the pain and fear had already blended with moments of happiness and joy to create a maelstrom of uncertainty and emotions.
“Anna. You’re talking to yourself again.” Kimmie whispered quietly.
The former barmaid’s overly pale complexion still demonstrated a hint of concern.
“Was I? Shit, sorry.”
“Hah.” Kimmie managed a snicker.
Anna could feel her heart pick up speed. At first, Kimmie had been emotionless, barely different than a zombie despite the autonomy granted to her. But over time, without Pyra’s meddling, the girl gradually learned how to live once more, how to feel. For that, Anna was immensely grateful. But it worried her nonetheless. After all, how will she react when she remembers and feels everything fully again? Will she still stay?
Pyra leaned over her, the princess’s lips upturned with a mischievous grin. The suggestion was there, but Anna brushed it off. If she simply can’t…. Then she can’t no other ways about it.
“If you insist. You’ll change your tune.” Pyra cackled.
“Kimmie, do you want to…” Anna dared to ask.
“I’ll stand behind, as I usually do.” Kimmie stoically affirmed.
“Right. Great. Always… feel better that you’re there.” Anna let out a soft sigh.
Quietly, the three got on their way as Anna’s dedicated unbroken soldier followed along. It was a concession she was forced to make as Pyra’s paranoia extended to believing that the Republic’s emissaries were there to kill Annalise and annex the territory. Pyra would’ve been able to stop them regardless, but in the mad princess’s own words. “It’s nice to not be just a mask for once.”
Yet, Anna could feel Pyra growing disquieting. The mad princess looking bemused by something the closer they got to the main hall. She twisted and coiled her form around both Anna and Kimmie, though the latter did not notice. Pyra eventually settled herself and smiled brightly at Anna, always a bad sign.
“You’re hiding something. You’ve gotten better at shielding your mind. But I’ll figure you out.” The mad princess beamed.
Anna ignored her and kept walking, much to Pyra’s delight. She nodded at the guards near the main hall and they opened the large doors, giving her a Gratian salute. Huh, my guys today, not Pyra’s.
“Announcing Princess Annabell Elisabeth Montroi, ruler of Monte De Trisse and arbiter of the unbroken legion.” Seneschal Alain announced her presence.
The court room was filled today. Standing against the pillars, a mixture of genuine human knights watched the proceedings alongside undead paladins. The crisscrossing of brightly polished amror and the bloodstained dread armor that the paladins wore creating a strange duality of macarbe and regal. Interspersed amongst them were the Republican contingent. The Republic of Gratia’s emissaries waiting impatient for her while their contingent of bodyguards had been allowed to enter. Neither Pyra nor Anna had any doubt about the capabilities of their own forces to quell any hostile activity should it happen, that much they were in agreement on.
The Republican guard offered the colour that the throne room needed. Bright reds and greens dotted with the three united fists of the republic contrasting rather well with the dour appeal of Anna’s soldiers. The diplomats themselves wore lavish fineries adorned with ornate symbols and decorations. It was either an attempt at flauting their wealth in order to intimidate her, or just a bizarre fashion choice that had overtaken the republic. Neither of which she was particularly moved by.
“My lady, presenting ambassadors Sir Francois Thierry and Lady Aimee Loze, representatives of the Republic of Gratia’s diplomatic corps.”
The emissaries only half bow, likely a deliberate snub. Not that she cared much for formalities anyway.
“Thank you for seeing us, my lady.” Ambassador Loze spoke, almost reluctantly so.
“I bid you welcome.” Anna replied, as expected of her, “What is it that you seek from this realm?”
“Formal, quite formal indeed.” Pyra quipped.
Anna almost scowled but managed to stop herself in time to retain her courtly disposition.
“Your welcome is appreciated, my lady. Let us move onto matters then, and the reason why we are here.” Ambassador Thierry gestured at one of his subordinates.
One of his guards pulled out a scroll and handed it to the ambassador, the document properly sealed with a scroll of the republic. The ambassador then bowed a little more formally before handing it over to Alain who had walked over to receive it. The seneschal took great care to adhere to proper protocols examining it, taking his time to peel the seal off without damaging either it or the document too much. He then gave it a quick once over before looking for Annalise’s approval, which she naturally gave.
“To the newly established princess of Annabell Elizabeth Montroi of the territory of Monte De Trisse and nearby duchies. We, the people of the Republic of Gratia, hereby present to you a proposal for a non-aggresion pact between our two nations, and for the establishment of an economic corridor in order to facilitate trade. The current lack of meaningful dialogue between our peoples and the recent deal that was struck with the Tyranical Kingdom of Gratia is an immediate security concern to our national sovereignty and we hope for your deals to be equal and balanced and that you will assuage our concerns.”
“What a fancy letter. What half veiled threats. Should burn them at the stake, for your family. Eheheh, for the fallen.” Pyra mocked.
Enough, Anna tried her best not to growl out loud.
“Thank you, seneschal.” She first praised the speaker.
“Of course, my lady.” He bowed as was courtesy.
“I’ll spare us all the formalities and get to the point. What guarantees are you seeking?” She addressed the emissaries.
The two looked taken aback but recovered quickly enough, dipping their heads while keeping their eye on her.
“A military checkpoint on the border.” Ambassador Loze stated.
“Umm, the location of which we will decide together, of course.” Thierry hastily added.
“An opening for their spies, a noose to choke you with. Not that it’ll work. Not that it’ll matter.” Pyra giggled to herself.
On that we agree, at least. Anna acquiesced to her constant companion.
“A military checkpoint?” Anna voiced her doubts.
“Just so. We can negotiate the finer details once we’ve ascertained where the checkpoint will be.”
‘No import or export restrictions? Tariffs?”
“Of course there will be. Those are a given. The rates of which we have yet to establish amongst discussion with the council of governors. These are only our preliminary terms.” Thierry clarified.
“Preliminary…” Anna muttered. It’s always about money and resources.
“We must control our borders and support, surely you’d understand?”
“I do. Which is why the deal as it stands is extrememly disadvantageous for my side.”
“Perhaps but yours is a nascent nation, pardon the phrase. And while we are more than willing to negotiate and alter the terms, we’d also need to know how reliably you can govern your realm. For you have, and I commend you for the feat of magical skill and arms, won your realm through conquest. Rulership is a difficult task. One that only time will tell how effective you become.” Ambassador Loze chastised her.
Anna bristled. She understood the implication. That she was untested and unreliable. But she didn’t bark back, not yet. For those were claims that she could not refute, nor were they words that she necessarily denied. Still, she couldn’t help feel a little insulted.
“Freshly risen from the fires of war as it may. I cannot allow that to be the cause of more suffering for my people.”
“Care about your people as you should. We still cannot justify anything more.”
“Lessen any economic penalties and I’ll allow a military outpost. Eschew the outpost, and I will not balk at your regulations. Or a combination of both to a lesser extent. Those are my proposals.”
“Preposterous. Our terms are already considerate. The governors themselves stand behind it. To change it drastically would be impossible. They wouldn’t agree to it.” Thierry joined in.
Pyra squealed in delight as she noticed Annalise’s expression changing. The ranger had grown more indulgent with her own emotions, no matter how well she tried to keep it in check. As Annalise’s scow deepened, Pyra’s own grin only widened.
“Then find a compromise, make them agree. Or is Governor Marcel that shocked I’m alive that he has turned the council against.” Anna growled.
“Pardon?” Loze exclaimed.
“Governor Marcel of Valens, I’m surprised you don’t know him. Earned his way to governorship through blood, sweat and tears. Specifically murdering my dearest brother and cousin in front of me. Butchering the staff of this castle with the help of traitors.” Anna spoke emotionlessly.
Pyra nearly burst out in joy at the tempered rage behind her words. Even moreso at how Lady Collisse the handmaiden grimaced at the reminder of her crimes. The emissaries did not anwser, unsure of the mood that was slowly developing in the court room. All Pyra knew was that Annalise hid her plans well, and even she was at the edge of her seat, waiting to see how this played out.
“In fact, I remember him. His one crooked thumb and overly curved nose standing in front of my brother’s flayed corpse. Leading the revolt at Ravenmount, as I recall. After I already fled Monte De Trisse. That, Marcel. Do you know him?” Anna smiled dangerously.
Neither of the emissaries answered, the two trading nervous glances.
“I’m trying to be kind here. To be, considerate. But you see them?” She motioned at the paladins, “Knights. Swear your fealty once more.”
As one, the undead paladins pulled out their blades, and before anyone could react, impaled themselves through the chest, unleashing small gouts of unholy flame from the openings. Even Seneschal Alain looked mildly horrified. Then, as one once more, they removed their blades and held open their hands. And before everyone’s eyes, their wounds closed as they were bathed in a divine light that was eerily pale.
“I take the route of diplomacy because Gratia is my home. Because I am of House Montroi, and I am Gratian. I could easily have carved my way up to Val Elftheria, burning the north as I went. But I went home, and I am content here. For the wall that you so fear, that brings death to all within it, keeps this land safe. My warriors, elite and undying. My people, free to pursue their own lives. To jeapordize that is to invoke my wrath. I wish to treat the Republic as a polity. As a group with noble ideas. But I will not do so with my people eating the cost of such a deal without some concessions from you.” Anna ranted.
Nerves had already been rattled, and everyone on edge, including the emissaries as they carefully chose their next words.
“Your threats will not go unanswered, my lady. But I will relay your message of a counter offer to the governors. Preferably in writing.” Ambassador Thierry warned her, but didn’t push the matter.
“Seneschal.” Anna looked over.
“Of course, my lady. I will have a proposal drafted at once.” Alain bowed and signalled to a court scribe.
“Honored Ambassadors Sir Francois Thierry and Lady Aimee Loze, if there is nothing else to discuss until the proposal. Then feel free to enjoy your time in my realm or return to the republic. You may at least leave knowing that I do not wish for war, for look at me.” She stood up, almost forgetting her crutch once more as she supported herself on one leg.
“Look at me.” She repeated, “I hold great hatred for the murderers of my family. But look at me. I have seen enough conflict. I have seen enough death. If the council can at least accept that and meet my terms half way, then that is enough.”
At this, the ambassadors did seem to have a slight amount of sympathy, both of them realizing that not only were they talking to someone who had only recently escaped their younger years. But had both been the cause and on the receiving end of much death and destruction.
“If there is nothing else. I shall have my seneschal attend to the matter of the proposal alongside making sure you recevie it.”
The old man nodded, her instructions clear.
“Very well. May we meet under better circumstances.” Thierry bid farewell on behalf of the republicans. A generic answer to express his displeasure, but not denying the possibility for cooperation.
Pyra was flabbergasted. Annalise had played her part so well. The performance was most exquisite. A bearing of emotions, a rage filled rant, a confession and sorrow. How it all delighted her so. I’ve definitely chosen the right host. She smiled to herself, oh what fun there is yet to be had, what fun indeed.