Clad in his holy garb. An expert crafted Full plate mail with a tabard that indicated his one true allegiance. The God Lumos, and a small ecranche indicating his loyalty to the Valkor kingdom, he strode into the camp for the on coming war.
The army camp sprawled across the valley. Tents fluttered in the cool breeze, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of, sweat, and anticipation.
Bradford strode with the assurance of one who knew his place in the world. He knew how important it was for him to do this, for the morale of the men around him. Though he was one man among thousands, he was a champion of light and he would shine for these men, he nodded to familiar faces from Lost Haven, set with grim determination, they nodded back.
As Bradford walked, soldiers paused briefly in to watch him pass, eyes filled with awe and respect. Whispers of his deeds floated through the camp like leaves carried by the wind: tales of bravery, light in the Darkness, Bradford, a private man who preferred the quiet hearth together with his wife, did not like this sort of attention. Too often he saw men become inflated with ego and arrogance, still he played the part of unbreakable bastion.
Bradford looked around and breathed a small sigh of relief but was stil wary. His son’s warning, which he always took serious, kept ringing in his mind. “Trap, this smells like a royal ass trap”. Bradford shook his head, no matter what he did, his son’s vocabulary was as offensive as ever if not astute.
To his relief, he saw guard towers, too often, commanders underestimated their use. Controlled laughter from soldiers gambling a few coins. Everyone on edge, ready to jump at a moments notice. Sure there were a few ‘brash novice men to war, here and there but all of them seemed to absorb the seriousness of the situation. No one had slacked on the upkeep of their gear either. He saw multiple knight-sergeants running newbies through drills. Hammering out any notion of stupid heroics in a war.
Bradford walked to the center of the camp, towards the command tent to report for duty.
The guards didn’t even bother stopping him, there were only a few champions in this nation and he was the only one in this army. He moved the tent flap to the side and walked in.
”Bradford champion of light reporting for Duty”. He spoke loud and clear for his would-be commander to hear.
The Man turned around. “Greetings champion of Lumos, it does me well to see you here.” Bradford saw the document he was holding and instantly knew it was a file on him.
“The name’s Holgar,” he reached out with his hand. “Another distant traveler”, Bradford thought as he instantly reached out to shake Holgar’s hand.
”Ah! You know of the custom.” Holgar remarked with a grim smile. Bradford took the measure of the man. The word “jarhead” came to his mind, remembering some of the talks he had with Marlin. The haircut, the mannerism.
Bradford answered: ”Ive traveled with travelers before and my son happens to be one, a real ‘jarhead’ that one.” He took a moment. “Well used to be, he’s having the time of his life gallivanting around with his girlfriend living the good ‘free’ life”.”
Bradford shook Holgar's hand firmly, his eyes scanning the room. It was filled with a few officers, each huddled over tables, pouring over tactical maps and discussing battle plans with a sense of urgency and impending conflict.
”Jarhead… Holy shit! Your son’s a vet from U.S.A!? Man it’s been so long since I met another traveler it has been years! Why isn’t he here? I could use someone with that kind of discipline!” Holgar was beaming with a wide tooth grin.
Bradford gave a thin smile, “under different circumstances i would invite you for dinner in a heartbeat, let’s just say I took the liberty of excluding my son… I’ve got experience with people that suffer from war trauma and he is still working through some it.” Holgar grin lessened considerably. Bradford remarked, gesturing to the officers and behind him To the camp.
"You've got a sizable force here,". What’s the strategy, what are your thoughts?, many people i talked to in the last month suspect what my son accepts as truth, “It’s a royal ass trap.”
Holgar's grin faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor. "Your son's instincts are keen. Our scouts spotted unusual movement in the northern woods. And the southern hills, Everything screams ambush. They already trampled upon the rules of war.”
Bradford frowned, considering the implications. Holgar looked at Bradford with intensity. “You used to be part of their army, can you give me any insight in their movements.” Bradford sighed. Studying the warboard, the flags on the large map indicating enemy movement.
”upon my honor as a champion I can’t tell you what im looking at. It most certainly isn’t a tactic from the warbooks i studied till i puked when i was still under the wings of the empire”. Bradford brooded. “This isn’t the Avalonia I knew or know. How many champions did your scouts report?” He thought to himself. “If i didn’t know any better I would think these were the movements of a horde from a dark lord.
Holgar shook his head. “None. I had them triple-check to be sure.”
“How can that be? Avalonia has the largest force of Champions of Order on their side. This whole goddamn war screams they pushed for this. Why aren’t they here?” Bradford was both elated at not having to face his father and extremely worried about the implications.
“Did our spies from Avalonia give us a clue? And please don’t tell me you don’t know. We all know all kingdoms discreetly keep tabs. I moved to North Haven recently because of the shitshow those two Avalonian spies caused.”
Hearing a Champion use such crude language and fling capital accusations, drew some eyebrows from the officers in the tent and a wry smile from Holgar. “I love the effect your son is having on you, Mr. Champion.”
He cleared his throat, smile gone. “A third of our spies and ambassadors practically came running back to Valkor with their tails between their legs. The rest are presumed executed as ‘traitors to the realm.’ It’s all kept under wraps by the higher-ups,” he scoffed,
You could hear a pin drop in the silence.
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“As a distant traveler yourself, Holgar, do you understand the significance of that sentence?”
Holgar gave him a look. “I’ve been part of this world longer than I was part of my old one. It means that, best case scenario, we are deep in bullshit. Worst case scenario… Avalonia is no longer part of the Alliance.”
A young female officer spoke up. “If they cut ties with the Alliance, would that not mean they would lose the support of their Champions? Isn’t one of the chief responsibilities of Champions to keep the Alliance alive?” The whole reason they pledge their allegiance is to keep the nations oath to the Alliance.
Heavy was the anticipation as all eyes went to Bradford.
Bradford took a deep breath, the weight of the officer's question heavy on his mind. "You're right, in theory. Champions are bound to the Alliance, but if Avalonia has severed ties, that suggests something else is at play." It was time to come clean about his worries for his family.
"The truth of the matter is that I went into voluntary exile from Avalonia. My son, as most of you know, was born under the shadowed star." He paused, fighting back a sudden welling of tears. Only those who knew him intimately would have noticed the emotional outburst. He began to explain the context.
"You must understand, I am the third in line of a noble house that, until my wife and I, had produced an unprecedented number of Champions. We were practically royalty by reputation alone. The push for the Silent Eternal Sleep ritual from my family for my son, who turned out to be a Sleeper-born, was… intense."
"Don’t mistake my family’s motivation for politics; they have always committed their loyalty to the Light and the Alliance wrought from the Light over any fealty toward a nation. The silent sleep is considered a, mercy.“
Saying it out loud left an incredible bitter taste in his mouth. He continued:
“Avalonia used to be a beautiful nation that had earned their loyalty and trust from the many Champion houses through righteous action and rule.” Bradford had a fond look remembering good times from his youth. “Back then it felt so right to fight for Avalonia.” My wife and I couldn’t go through with it, it took my family years to accept my choice, and they were making amends with us slowly and steadily over the years. Their acceptance of my son was slow but steady."
"Three months ago, when their letters—two months late—still hadn’t arrived, I decided to act. I contacted some old friends in the Radiant Dawn Order. They told me that contact with the Champion houses in Avalonia had been sparse over the last 12 months, and they described the letters and communications as odd. Details that would have been included before were omitted, and disproportionate reports were reassuring the Radiant Dawn that everything was fine. Here and there, that might be acceptable, but these reports are meant to be critical, leaving no stone unturned, so to speak. They suspected something was wrong, and then the official war declaration came." Bradford paused.
“Denying any attempt from an organization to start an inquiry into oddities,” the young officer finished Bradford’s line of reasoning. She became pale. To deny the Champions, Champions potentially disappearing—it meant something was terribly wrong within the kingdom of Avalonia."
“Commander Holgar,” Bradford addressed the grizzled general. “I believe it is imperative that we approach this not as an official skirmish but as the cleansing of a horde.” He waved at the war board. “The Avalonian army is practically moving like one as I see it.”
“Will you invoke the Alliance protocol?” Holgar stood with his arms crossed, his face tight and stern, giving nothing away.
Bradford wondered at his thoughts. “Even if I did, I would leave command to you. My talents and specialties lie in leading the vanguard, the hammer upon the anvil.” Bradford took a moment. “Would you force my hand?”
Holgar let out a rueful laugh. “My apologies, I simply needed to know where you stood. Besides, I prefer this. I used to be a commander in my old life. With this, I can claim your backing and properly employ the tactics I deem fit for this battle.”
A commotion outside the tent caught Bradford's attention. Voices whispered urgently, and he could feel the tension in the air thickening. There was an undercurrent of fear.
The tent flap was pushed aside, and a soldier stepped in, his face pale and his movements stiff. “Champion Bradford, sir, there’s someone here to see you.”
Bradford straightened. “Who is it?”
“It’s an Inquisitor by the name of Verath.”
Inquisitor Verath was a figure shrouded in both fear and respect but well known, a living embodiment of harsh justice, no one could deny that his methods, however harsh, were effective. Peace was often bought with blood, and Verath was the one who collected the toll.
Bradford’s expression hardened; he felt his rage boiling. He hadn’t forgotten the slight the Inquisitors had made against his son Marlin. “Send him in.”
The soldier nodded and backed out. Moments later, an imposing figure stepped into the tent. Verath was clad in religious garb but functional armor. The air seemed to grow heavier with his presence, the weight of his reputation preceding him.
“Champion Bradford, General Holgar.” Verath’s voice was deep, almost gravelly, carrying the authority of someone used to giving orders and having them followed without question. “I’ve come to offer my… assistance.”
Bradford had to suppress a scoff and nodded, meeting the Inquisitor’s gaze without flinching. “Inquisitor Verath. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I think we both know that would be a lie.”
Verath’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Yes, that business with Constable Torren… it will be looked into.”
“What brings the Inquisition to this doorstep?” Holgar asked, keeping his tone neutral.
Verath moved closer, his presence filling the small tent. “The Religious Council has deemed the situation with Avalonia to be… irregular. The disappearance of their Champions, the exile of all foreign ambassadors, and the execution of spies—it reeks. My task is to root out that stench and ensure it doesn’t spread. Starting by crushing their silly attempt to throw everything into chaos with this pointless war.”
Bradford crossed his arms, considering Verath’s words, letting the man continue.
Verath’s eyes gleamed with a cold light as he turned his gaze to Holgar and his officers. “With your permission, General Holgar, three of the ‘Vanticorate platoons’ are at your disposal. We request that the Champion of Light leads the main platoon. It consists of those… suitable to act as a hammer.”
Bradford noticed the flicker of calculation in Holgar’s eyes as he weighed Verath’s offer. The Vanticorate weren’t just feared; they were respected for their unflinching dedication and effectiveness. People spoke of them not just with dread, but with a kind of awe. They weren’t just elite; they were a symbol of ruthless victory.
Holgar cleared his throat, his tone thoughtful. “How do you intend to integrate your forces?”
Verath’s gaze was steady as he replied, his voice calm but firm. “The Vanticorate are disciplined, General. They fight with purpose, we will follow your command, my men… they respect for your approach.”
Holgar considered this, then nodded. “Since the enemy has already split their forces in three,” He pointed at the warboard, “we might as well give them 3 anvils to crash upon, will that suit your men?” He looked ar Verath.
Verath’s expression softened, if only slightly. “The Vanticorate are here to do what must be done.”
Bradford nodded, determination settling in his gut. “I’ll lead your main platoon, once the time is right i will spear head a breach.”
Verath met Bradford’s gaze, his voice unwavering. “Then it’s decided. We will break them upon a wall of iron and faith.”
As Verath left the tent, his presence lingering like a faint echo, Bradford felt hope. The battle ahead would be tough, but with the Vanticorate at their side, they had a powerful ally.
Holgar spoke up, his voice more relaxed now. “They’re a useful lot, aren’t they?”
Bradford chuckled, the tension easing slightly. “Useful is one way to put it, something to rally behind. Counting your lucky stars they are on your side.”
This brought a chuckle through the rank and file of officers.
Holgar nodded. “Then let’s make sure we give them a battle worth fighting. Our troops will follow their lead, and we’ll push Avalonia’s forces back where they belong.”
With that, the two leaders and their officers turned their attention to finalizing their plans, knowing that with the Vanticorate at the forefront, their chances of victory had just become more tangible. The battle was coming.