Full moon just had to be so a few morrow after the day before.
Alaric is currently riding ahead, just setting foot outside the keep with his men. Bjorn, the old Maester of the keep, and his mentor, elder Fraud. Six soldiers garb with Stormraven's blackened mail, while the other fours were sent ahead for scouting.
The lord had already said farewell to his family. His wife and the elder son looked like they wanted to object to this but still sympathized with him. However, the curious twin daughters had yet to be so easily deterred, wishing to meet the 'Ladies of the Woods' themselves. Although he had to thank Fraud for that. The maester's 'suggestion' of continuous lessons did halt their relent. As for the youngest, the little one wanted nothing aside from his father returning for the bedtime story.
Alaric clung tied to the rein. This trip could be the last of him and his friends, the thought of him leaving his family behind...
"You're there, Alaric?" The old maester raised his concerns.
The voice of Fraud broke him out of his haunting nightmare.
"Y-yes. I'm fine."
"Fine, my balls," Biorn, riding beside him, grumbling. "You look worse, the old goat here for the last few days."
Fraud silently nodded at Bjorn's statement. After that fateful counter, his student didn't have a sound sleep. Every morning, he came to Alaric's personal chamber; it was always full of candle smoke.
Soon later, the Misty Woods and its notorious fog curtain came into view. However, a path had been cleared for them leading directly to the river entrance, one Bjorn had sworn on his life had not been there before.
"Is this magic?" The lord turned to his teacher.
Magic, curses, mysticism—they were extremely rare but real in this world. Those with the ability to wield nature's forces must be sent to Rexsine, the College of Wizardry, due to the danger an untrained one poses. Maester Fraud, though not powerful, was a skilled caster who had graduated from College. Simple acts like melting snow were easy for him, but here in this permafrost land...
Fraud dismounted, knelt, and placed his hand upon the trail. All were surprised when the hand went to his lips.
"It's salt."
Thanks to its content, sea water doesn't freeze like fresh water. Alaric knew this, as did his people. Despite being close to the sea, salt was a luxury, for the summer wasn't hot enough to produce enough salt.
His heart began to tighten. Prior days ago, the blacksmiths had confirmed those gold bars were genuine ones, if not better. Just days ago, the blacksmiths had confirmed the gold bars they found were genuine, if not better. The old maester had scoured his entire collection of knowledge and found no mention of 'Blackblood.' The only recorded event involving the Misty Woods, aside from past expeditions, was the 'Invaders From Heaven,' widely regarded as a myth.
Many times in the past, Alaric had prayed to the Old Gods for help for his family and people. However, this series of events was far from what he had wished for. After his wife's accident, he had hoped for a peaceful life. Instead of tranquility, he suddenly had been given the wealth his ancestor would die for; now, he could well be the first to see a long-living race had once gone from this plane long ago.
"Milord."
Bjorn's voice shattered Alaric's daydream. They were close. Alaric raised a fist without a word, signaling the four scouts to fall back and keep watch from afar, ready to report if things went awry.
Suddenly, figures emerged from the mist. Alaric and his men stared, eyes wide with awe and bewilderment. Four towering giants, each at least ten heads tall, now stood before them. They were clad in an unimaginable armor, unlike anything Alaric had ever seen. The suit was made of a strange, glistening material that caught the light and shimmered with an almost magical quality. It hugged the wearer's form perfectly as if it had been forged to fit them alone. The suit's surface was a sleek, dark metal, yet it moved with the wearer as fluidly as a second skin. Tiny, intricate patterns like muscles, which seemed to pulse with a life of their own, covered the entire suit. The helm, seamless and smooth like glass, concealed the wearer's face entirely. In the background is the silhouette of a skull with only two small spheres glowing an intense red where his eyes should have been. It appears as a specter or an apparition, a being from beyond the realm of men. As the unknown figures moved, the armor made no sound, silent as the mist over the fjords at dawn.
Blades were strapped to their thighs while wielding enormous contraptions in their hands—longer than greatswords, yet they bore them with effortless ease.
With a synchronized motion, the quartet stepped aside, revealing a figure emerging from their midst, garbed in identical armor adorned with a cloak and a peculiar hat with a flat crown and a gently curving brim. Alaric also noticed how the suit's colors shifted and adjusted, blending into the surroundings; it was as if he was cloaked in shadows and light all at once. Definitely a female, based on the chest armor and heel area.
"Welcome, esteemed guests of our Master." The woman bowed, placing her right hand over her heart, while the others brought their hands to their heads.
"Allow me to introduce myself," she said, looking up. "Callsign: Viper. Captain of Mobile Task Force Omnicron-1. It's an honor to meet you, honorable Duke of Frosthaven."
"Pleased to meet you as well, Viper," replied the lord, producing a letter. "Do you need to check the invitation?"
The invitation flew into Viper's hand and burst into flames, surprising Alaric's group.
"No need for that; we know who you are. Lord Alaric of Stormraven, Maester Fraud of Valenwood, Steward Knight Bjorn of Rodricken. However, I do appreciate your gesture."
The fact that these people knew the names of his trusted companions did not ease Alaric's mind.
"Before we venture into the forest, I must point out a few things. First, the entire forest—no, my Master's power heavily influences this land. What does this mean, you may ask?" Viper pointed toward the forest behind her. "The land is alive, like a living being."
The guests were taken aback by this revelation.
"Let's just say it doesn't take kindly to outsiders, except those blessed by my Master. So, please stick to the road. My comrades and I will ensure your safety, but we will not tolerate your foolishness if you stray from the path. You have been warned."
"The walk to his home will take little time, I assure you. My Master has instructed me to answer any questions you may have during the trip. Are we clear, dear esteemed guests?"
The big three from Frosthaven nodded in agreement.
"Good." Viper snapped her fingers, and the mist gradually revealed a cobblestone path. "Please follow me."
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
"You four," she turned to her subordinates. "Box formation."
The four nodded along, turned invisible, and dispersed into the mist.
-------------
The group continued their journey through the forest. The guests felt uneasy as the mist formed a protective circle around them, though Bjorn remained unaffected, having seen this before.
"Lady Viper, may I ask you something?" Alaric addressed their guide.
"Of course," she replied. "And please, drop the 'lady.' My position is no different from a knight serving his lord, just like your soldiers."
"You and Lord..." Alaric hesitated, finding it odd to refer to her lord by the name.
"B.B.? It stands for 'Big Boss.' It's his call sign, just as Viper is mine. Simply call him 'B.' He won't mind, I assure you."
"So it's a title," Bjorn interjected.
"No, it's more of a second name and a mask for us. Revealing one's true identity can be dangerous in our profession. Hence, the callsigns."
"But for our Master, his true name is a curse to others. Knowing it won't bring any benefit, not even to us. Now, what did you want to ask me?"
"You and your lord referred to me as 'Duke.' Is that your way of addressing the lord of a land?"
"Ah, my apologies," Viper turned to them, pointing at Alaric's steward, "Knight." She then held a hand at shoulder height, "Baron." She raised it again, "Earl." Once more, "Marquess." A finger pointed at Alaric, "Duke." Lastly, she pointed skyward, "King."
"So, where does Lord B fit into these titles?" Bjorn asked.
"My apologies, but that's for you to figure out," Viper said, returning to continue their journey.
"Pardon?"
"Your perspective on my Master is very different from ours. You'll understand when you meet him."
Alaric and his men continued to follow Viper. Moments later, a light appeared at the end of the foggy path.
"Here we are," Viper announced, turning back to them. "Oh, and one more thing. Don't be alarmed when you see him."
The group exchanged puzzled looks. As they stepped through the exit, the scene unfolded into a dream Alaric had always cherished. A true forest like the ones he had read about in his father's books. The sun shone brightly, birds sang, the sky was blue, and the glade was green. Gone were the blinding white snow, the howling winds, and the ice on his beard. All the guests were stunned, even Bjorn, who was visiting this dreamlike land for the second time.
Already, he could see the manor, a masterwork of glass and stone. As the salt path gave way to cobbled steps, the party dismounted. Alaric ordered two men to guard the horses, but Viper advised staying near the mansion was the best option. Alaric led his party towards the manor, where their host stood waiting.
As soon as they laid eyes on the host, they understood Viper's warning. He was tall, way taller than the men escorting them, with bleach-white skin, great goat-like horns shaped like lightning bolts, and eyes hidden behind a simple black blindfold. His most unsettling feature was his smile—no lips, just teeth sharper than any beast's, nearly splitting his cheeks. He wore unique attire: a coat and trousers with a strange red center crease and polished, short-ankled shoes, all white from head to toe, except for the chest's black and red center.
Perched between his horns was a large crow, its feathers darker than the night itself. Its mandible was unlike any crow Alaric had ever seen.
The way he had stood at perfect ease, watching the northern party approach with an almost playful patience. At that moment, Alaric finally grasped what Viper meant by 'perspective.'
'Those titles are for mortals...'
The two men soon stood mere paces apart.
"I am Alaric of House Stormraven, Lord of Frosthaven," he announced with complete formality, "Here by invitation from 13th Family Head of House Blackblood, Chief Enforcer of VoidTech."
"Well met, Lord Stormraven. And just call me B, for the sake of our latter conversation."
His voice starkly contrasted his appearance, more sun than moon. Alaric had expected something rough, perhaps even demonic. Instead, the greeting was soft and mortal-liked, imbued with hospitality and a faint, unrecognizable accent.
"I trust your journey here was pleasant," said Boss; his smile still retained its form after speaking.
"It was," Alaric nodded. Salt, magic, and the armor beyond comprehension came back to his mind.
"Before we continue, I need to speak with my subordinates," Boss turned to Viper. "I made some food for you in the rec room: chili fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy. Call off the rest of the squad and take a break."
"Your Majesty," Viper stood at attention, legs straight, hands behind her back. "You don't need to worry about us—"
"Why don't you shut your face hole and learn to enjoy yourself?"
The sudden outburst from the crow made the guests flinch; indeed, they hadn't expected the bird to talk.
"You heard them," Boss smiled, tapping her shoulder a few times. "It's not every day your superior cooks for you. Off you go," he playfully shooed them away. "Oh, and be a dear and stop calling me like that. Boss, just Boss."
Viper remained silent momentarily, then gave a shallow bow and disappeared, just as her men had at the entrance.
"Bunch of fuckin' fanatics," the crow growled.
"Now, now, we are the reason they exist," Boss then turned toward the guest party, "Forgive me. Allow me to introduce the 'other me,' the name is Mnemon."
"Sup," the crow greeted them.
"Now," the metal grating drew everyone's attention back to the present. "Lord Stormraven," he said, sliding the giant iron-wrought gate fully ajar with a hand, "I welcome you and your companions to my humble domain."
-------------
A peculiar world lay behind the gates, a mosaic of cobbled stones and clusters of pale white flowers that emitted a soft glow. Steel and glass lanterns illuminated the path leading up the sloping steps to the manor, a vaulted structure supported by seamless walls and expansive windows clearer than the finest ice.
Some of Alaric's men felt a palpable unease, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Stepping inside, they were met with a vast open space, free from the smoke and dimness of their homeland. The light sources—small glass orbs embedded in the ceiling and walls—cast a steady, unwavering light akin to stars on a clear night. The smooth and hard floors were made of stone polished to a shine that reflected the light.
They followed Boss to a side room where a table was set. He nearly paused at seeing eight sets of porcelain dishes, silverware, and drinking glasses on a fine tablecloth. Such luxury would make the snobby nobles back in the Empire envious.
"Please, sit. I've prepared for your soldiers as well," Boss said, setting a bird down on one of the chairs. "Please wait a moment while I bring out the food. Take it easy on them, bud."
He then disappeared through the main doors of the manor. Alaric took the offered seat as Bjorn stood watch behind him while the others looked visibly confused.
"Good grief," the crow muttered in annoyance.
Suddenly, eight chairs near Alaric were pulled out, and the remaining eight guests were seated, with Bjorn and Fraud next to Alaric and the six soldiers following suit.
"Look," Mnemon said, drawing everyone's attention. "You mofos are disrespecting the host's hospitality. If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. No need for cloak-and-dagger."
"Bud, what did I tell you?" Boss reminded.
The guest party was then treated to the strangest scene of the day: Boss emerged from a side door, pushing a cart laden with porcelain plates with metal lids. Stranger still, it was the master of the house performing the duties of a servant.
"Earl Grey tea with cinnamon and citrus," he announced, pouring tea for everyone at the table. "And now, the food. Forgive me if this scares you."
From his back sprouted a bunch of tentacles, darker than ink, equipped with rows of teeth and eyes in a chaotic arrangement. They took the plates from the cart and placed them before the guests.
"Schweinshaxe," Boss declared as the lids were removed, revealing aromatic, juicy-looking pork knuckles wrapped in crispy crackling skin. "German pork knuckle served with beer gravy and potato dumplings."
Boss then placed a plate for the bird and one for himself before sitting down. Though, for a moment, Alaric saw his ever-smile falter for a brief moment as he pinched his nose bridge
"They're back, aren't they?" Mnemon inquired.
"Yep," Boss sighed. "Lord Stormraven, I haven't introduced you to my wives," he said, pointing to the door.
The guests turned to the doors, only to be met with a loud bang as they were forced open with a kick.
"Wassup, ye lot?"
Two females walked in. First, probably Lady Noira; Alaric would say she was the most normal-looking person he had met that noon. A beauty any woman would kill for with a height similar to his people. A bizarre style of fashion, two-colored hair, and two-colored eyes, like Bjorn's report prior days. However, the primary colors of her clothes... Alaric turned to his advisor, only for Bjorn to nod while the elder Fraud remained silent.
Purple.
Fraud knew this color from his collection of books. He knew this color despite never once feeling this dye on his skin; he even dared not to dream about it. It is one of the most coveted and expensive colors—a consistent indication of wealth and power. Purple is a symbol of royalty, reserved for the very top crust.
The purple dye trade was mainly conducted in the Zyloreth Empire for centuries. The dye came only from a species of sea snail. While one could create purple by mixing red and blue on clothes, the result always needed to be better. It was so exceedingly rare that it became worth its weight in gold. To harvest it, dye-makers had to crack open the snail's shell, extract a purple-producing mucus, and expose it to sunlight for a precise amount of time. It took as many as 250,000 snails to yield just one ounce of usable dye, but the result was a vibrant and long-lasting shade of purple.
Clothes made from the dye were exorbitantly expensive—a pound of purple wool cost more than most people earned in a year—so they naturally became the calling card of the rich and powerful.
"Gie... me... a.... welcomin'... kiss…, ye... crease..." Noira demanded, her husband fending off her assault with his palm on her face.
"Legien," Boss turned to the second woman, "How was your shopping?"
The tall woman in red and black entered behind Noira, her arms filled with shopping bags. She bore a striking resemblance to Boss's first wife but was emotionless, her features marred by scars—burns, cuts, and punctures. She wore an off-white coat with rolled-up sleeves over a black sleeveless jumpsuit, a choker, and a white waist belt. Her ensemble was completed by white sneakers and skinny tight jumpsuit pants. An insignia adorned her coat: a black side view of a Doberman with six glowing red eyes, a spiked collar, and rows of sharp fangs.
Suddenly, Alaric recalled Bjorn's words about Legien.
'Never in my life did I think a woman could crush my skull...'
Her attire exposed her muscular arms and toned stomach, showcasing her rippling muscles and a well-defined six-pack.
"Nice choice of style, I must admit," Boss complimented Legien's outfit.
"Ay coorse, aw me, bitches," Noira said, finally ending her playful assault.
"Yes, yes, we know. Yada yada yada..." the crow interjected, earning a glare from Noira.
"Now, now, we have guests," Boss reminded, using his tentacles to set two other plates of food on the table.
The women soon joined the meal, with Noira sitting on Boss's right, followed by Legien.
"I hope all of you enjoy this simple meal I've prepared," Boss said, raising his cup of tea towards the guest.