“To allow Demons to travel the land, it is a-,”
“Sir Markin, do not misunderstand,” Lord Zakaria replied. “I am glad for your counsel, but you must remember there are many who know things you do not.”
“If the order learns of this matter-,”
“You should be wary of trying to break our cohesion with your incessant complaining about the matter,” the Baron replied, glaring at the knight through his helmet. “Have you no idea why I may have decided against starting trouble?”
“I do not.”
“You heard how powerful they were,” the Baron said. “Even their porters are Experts.”
“Tall tales, I’m sure.”
“From an Iyrman?”
“…”
“You have no idea who that Iyrman is, do you?”
“No?”
“Apparently, his father assisted Sir Roland, that alone should be enough to stifle your complaints, but if it’s not enough, then perhaps I should tell you of another who holds the same tattoo?”
“…”
“Did you receive news recently about a Vice Commander of your order.”
“Yes, he…” The rider fell silent for along moment, recalling the information he had received. He reached up to the amulet on his chest, that of a black moon. “That young Iyrman, he…”
“When I was a boy, I was expected to study in order to take the duties of a Baron. Every morning I would run along the same trail before I would bathe. I do not remember the soap I had used, whether it was from Aswadasad or East Port. I would eat porridge, but I do not remember which fruit I ate with it. As we age, our memories of our past change, so we forget obvious details…”
The Baron fell silent for a long moment. “We received a guest that day. A young Iyrman, around the same age as Sir Roland is now. Apparently, he had visited our family once previously, in order to fight against the captain of our guard. Do you recall of the one called Seasword?”
“Dane Seasword?”
“Dane Seasword,” Lord Zakaria confirmed.
“Are you talking about the same Seasword who went to the northern island and returned back alive?”
“The very same.”
“I know of him.”
“He was the captain of our guard.”
Sir Markin raised his brows. “How did that come to pass?”
“That is not important,” the Baron replied. “The Iyrman who had arrived that day challenged Seasword. They had met years prior, when I was still a babe who could but barely crawl. Apparently, the Iyrman had forced his way in to fight Seasword, who was considered a Grandmaster, and Seasword had almost cut him down. That same Iyrman had returned not even a decade later to face Seasword again, having spent years adventuring in the north, even beyond Aldish lands, wetting his axe red. He wielded a red shield and a red axe. Some say it was from all the blood he soaked in.”
“What a savage.”
“He had returned, still not even half Seasword’s age, and the pair fought. Seasword was perhaps in his fifties at the time, and though his body had grown frailer with age, Seasword was still no slouch. You could have sent two Experts to fight him at once, and he’d still cut them down like he was carving a roasted boar.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“…”
“I do not remember the soap that I used. I do not remember the fruit I ate…” Lord Zakaria felt a cold sweat begin to pour down his back. “No, I do not remember such details, but I remember that wild grin. I remember that howling laughter. I remember the blue circle and the blue diamonds on his forehead.”
The warrior from the order remained silent, staring at the Baron, who was leading the company of mounted warriors, each great warriors in their own right, save a handful who were assisting with logistics.
“I told you I would return,” the Baron recounted, his voice low, almost like a growl. “I told you, you sea fucker. I told you I’d come and taste your blood.”
“What?”
“Those were the words he said when he loomed over the half dying Seasword,” the Baron stated, still looking to the past. “The Mad Dog. He, who had lost to Seasword, had returned not a decade later, and had cut the great warrior down. Yet, right as he had started to make a name for himself, the Iyrman disappeared. I had no idea where he had gone, and though I heard rumours that he went east to Aswadasad to face a Dragon, I did not hear much else. Then, I heard that an Iyrman with one arm killed the Vice Commander of an order, and not just any order…”
“But the Order of the Black Moon,” Sir Markin replied, holding his amulet. “Is it really the same?”
“I heard it was an Iyrman with one arm, but the tattoo on his forehead, and the fact that he seemed to enjoy it…” Lord Zakaria thought back to that memory, one of the first memories in his mind. “That young Iyrman placed first in the tournament. The very same tournament in which Sir Gordan was gifted First Ice to face against several Iyrmen, and yet placed fourth.”
“…”
“That young man no doubt beat Sir Gordan, but he mentioned that his companion, Kitool was it? She placed second. Meaning she, too, beat Sir Gordan when he wielded First Ice, but… I don’t recall her tattoos one bit. It is one thing to be related to a monster like Mad Dog, but it is another for the young woman to be related to nobody significant and still place second amongst the greatest of warriors of their age.”
“Our warriors did not fight.”
“How fortunate you are not embarrassed,” Lord Zakaria replied. “If the Demons act up, it will be up to those above us to deal with the matter.”
“They may blame you.”
“They may, but I would rather face the Demons I know, than a Demon I do not.”
Sir Markin remained silent, allowing the Baron the slip of the tongue, considering how tense he seemed. It explained why the Baron didn’t decide to demand for war tax from the group.
Meanwhile, Adam’s group were finally allowed to enter West Fort, which was definitely more like East Port than it was to South Fort. A large district made up the docks, a swarm of ships docked, with many more out fishing and patrolling the nearby waters. The dock workers seemed to be an organised mess, though sometimes it bordered on disorganised as some workers clashed together, cursing at one another before they continued about their business, all in a rush.
“Why do they call it West Fort and not West Port?” Adam asked.
“The fort is towards the mountain, and houses a large number of soldiers,” Jurot stated.
“How many soldiers?”
“Five thousand.”
“Is that a large number?” Adam asked, considering the city could easily raise a hundred thousand.
“There is a larger number of soldiers in the north, where most skirmishes occur,” Jurot admitted. “The five thousand within the fort are veterans. It does not include other outposts nearby, they house an additional five thousand soldiers, a thousand of which are riders, like those who had left.”
“So about ten thousand?”
“Five thousand in the main fort, and a thousand in each outpost nearby,” Jurot confirmed. “There are conscripts who are trained and used as a reserve force for policing too, and they number five thousand in this city, and a thousand in other towns and cities within Central Aldland.”
“Do the cities have their own guard?”
“Yes. The reserve force are additional warriors, those which are gathered first to be led by the experienced veterans.”
“Oh, makes sense.”
The Adventurer’s Guild within West Fort was built near the docks district, beside a stream. It was built as large as the Adventurer’s Guild in East Port, and could easily house dozens of parties with ease, and perhaps hundreds if required. Nearby was a guard outpost, and an estate full of artisans.
As they entered the guild Adam noted how relaxed everyone was. Though adventurers relaxed in the other guilds, here most people only carried a blade at their side, and there were fewer people adorned in any bit of armour.
‘What’s this about?’ Adam thought, before glancing to the side where he saw the familiar form of his companions. “Dunes!” Adam called out as Jurot went towards the reception to speak of their business.
“Adam!” Dunes replied, standing up quickly to greet the Half Elf. “Were your travels safe?”
“They were, they were,” Adam replied, shaking his forearm. “How have you all been?”
“We’ve been well.” Dunes flashed a charming smile towards the Half Elf. “It’s good to see you, Adam.”
“Everything okay?”
“It’s… fine,” Dunes sighed lightly, though his face was still filled with half a smile. “We’re still looking for Amira, but we have been unable to locate her.”
“It’s alright, I’m here now.” Adam pat Dunes’ back. “We’ve got quite the story to tell you, my friend.”
“I noticed,” Dunes replied, motioning his head to Jonn. “He would not tell us.”
“Why not?”
“He said that it would be best if it came from the lips of Adam, or the Iyrmen.”
“He’s not wrong.” Adam chuckled, before going to greet Lady Sara, Korin, Fred, and finally Jonn. “You alright?”
“Yes,” Jonn replied, before falling silent.