Michael
The landscape flew by as Michael’s caravan passed through the land. His interest in the outside rose the closer they came to the border; he had never traveled this close to it.
He peered out of the window, watched the large river that marked the end of his lands, and looked over it at the forest that stretched as far as his eyes could see. He of course had heard many stories about the beastwoods. About the treacherous landscape, dangerous wildlife, and the savage inhabitants.
He had never seen a living beastman though, the only ones he had seen were heads on pikes or other forms of corpses. Michael wondered if they were as different and savage as the stories told; tales and traditions had proven unreliable.
“How are the beastmen,” he asked Solon as he fell back into the carriage.
“It really depends on which clan you meet. The wolf clan is honorable and cunning as I said before. The bear clan is strong and loves solitude. The stag clan is proud and rather peaceful. There are many more but all of them hate to be called beastmen,” the dwarf answered with a smile.
Michael thought about it momentarily and then nodded, “Being called a beast version of a human is understandably insulting.”
“Exactly, they much prefer to be called animal kin in your language, but each type of animal kin has its own name.”
“What is it for the wolf clan? They might appreciate if I call them by their name.”
“They call themselves Vargr-Släkt.” It was a strange word and Michael had to try multiple times to master the pronunciation.
“Well done,” Solon praised him after he had managed it.
Grur watched the exchange with interest and Michael could see him silently move his own lips trying to copy the word.
“So how did it come to it that a slave became such a successful merchant,” Michael asked the man.
Grur regarded him with an unreadable expression before he smiled, “It is not as interesting of a tale as one might think, milord.”
“Indulge me, please.”
“Very well. I was born a little more than thirty years ago far to the south of here. In my homeland, only the strong rule and the weak are their property. The desert is unforgiving so the people there need to be too. My parents were weak and followed the wrong man, so they got killed and I became a slave at the young age of five.”
He didn’t look angry about it, rather he had an aura of acceptance while talking about his fate as if his past was how it was always meant to be.
“I was passed from master to master, my price falling every time. I was not a strong boy; physical work was never my specialty. This was until I was bought by a wandering trader, who bought me for a goat.”
“You were bought for a mere goat?” Michael frowned and thought, how can you sell a person like livestock?
“It was a good price for such a seemingly useless boy,” the trader calmly replied before continuing his story.
“The wandering trader hoped to make a good profit by bringing us ‘exotics’ north beyond the sea and mountains and into the world of the pale men. The journey was perilous, but we did make it, at least most of us. The merchant was right, he did make a good profit and I was bought by my last master. Rickert was a good man and a religious man. He noticed my potential and after a couple of years told me that if I converted to the faith of Idas, he would set me free. Faith had always been a strange concept for me, so I accepted. Rickert never had children. Why, I cannot say. After years of being his right-hand man, he adopted me and when he died a few more years later I inherited his business.”
Michael was quiet while thinking about what he had just heard. “Greatness can be found wherever you search for it,” Michael mumbled to himself, but the tall, dark-skinned man had heard him. He simply smiled and left Michael with his thoughts.
---
“This is where we are gonna cross the river, milord. We need to leave the carriage here, if they are as receptive to our entry as I think they will then we will need to leave quickly,” Sir Tomp said while standing at the door of the carriage.
Michael stepped out of the carriage and took a look around. They were next to a small walled border fort that overlooked a small wooden ferry. Calling it that was probably an overstatement as it was basically a wooden plane that was connected with ropes to the other side of the river.
There were multiple men already working to secure the first cart on the ferry and some guards of the fort had also joined them.
“It will take three rounds to get everything to the other side. You will go on the last one for maximum security,” the knight informed him.
The four knights and Eydis had formed a loose ring around him the moment he had stepped out of the safety of the carriage, and he was sure that they had done the same on the whole journey till now. He could understand their protectiveness though, the loss of most of House Rowan still weighed heavily on them and this was a dangerous endeavor, but Michael would be lying if he said he liked this treatment.
Michael watched as the workers from the fort did their job when a man in a chain vest approached him. Michael’s guard eyed him with suspicion and Sir Tomp stopped the man.
“I am Ufric Tales, commander of this border fort. I would like to talk with Lord Rowan,” the man said.
Michael waved him closer and Sir Tomp stepped to the side. Ufric was a grizzled man, his wild beard and unkempt hair gave him a savage appearance which was only strengthened by his multiple facial scars.
He fell on one knee in front of Michael. “Rise,” Michael quickly said, and the man did so. “What can I do for you, commander?”
“I wanted to see this with my own eyes, milord. Going into the beastwoods to negotiate with these animals is a folly,” Ufric spat out without regard for Michael’s station.
“You dare …,” Sir Tomp growled and made a step closer before being stopped by Michael’s raised hand.
“A folly, you say?”
“Damn right, you can’t talk with those beasts. They are little more than animals.” The hate and rage radiating from the man was barely contained.
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“Did you ever try,” Michael calmly asked. Ufric looked at him confused and shook his head. “And the wolf clan hasn’t attacked us in how long now?”
“A year maybe, but that doesn’t mean that they are not planning to. They are probably just waiting for the right time.”
Michael continued to smile at the man which made him recoil a little. “And you think that the last weeks weren’t the right time? The lord that they feared is dead, his child son is now the ruler, and the king still getting settled in his new position. Or are you saying they haven’t noticed?”
“Milord, with all due respect, you don’t know them like I do. I have seen countless men being torn apart by the beastmen; they will not give you a chance to talk.” He had calmed down but still tried to show the urgency of his words.
Michael tapped a finger against his lower lip as he had started doing lately when in thought.
“I am sorry, commander. I don’t believe it. My teacher has traveled through the beastwoods, treated with the animal kin, and broken bread with them. Diplomacy is possible and I will stop this senseless bloodshed. We can live peacefully next to each other, no more men have to be torn apart, and no more children left as orphans.”
He saw that he wasn’t getting through to the man, his own experiences acting like a shield to the young count’s words.
“You might not see it this way right now, but you will, one day,” Michael held the gaze of the grizzled veteran until he shook his head, turned around, and walked away without so much as a word.
Michael watched him for a while and then turned back to the ferry which was currently being pulled to the other side of the river.
“You shouldn’t let such disrespect stand, milord,” Sir Tomp said disgruntled.
Before Michael could reply, Sir Lance spoke up, “Respect is earned and not demanded. They don’t know any better, but they will soon enough.”
Michael inspected the young knight. He had been happy when Lance requested to join his personal guard, it was as if a circle had finally closed.
“Do you think my plan is a folly,” Michael asked his knights.
“It is not ours to question, milord,” Tomp answered with his rigid demeanor. Michael smirked and shook his head at this.
It took a while longer until everyone got to the other side of the river but soon after they were getting going again.
---
The journey was eventless for the next two days. They had some difficulty getting the carts through the rough terrain which slowed them down but that was the peak of their problems.
Michael pushed himself up from his saddle to get some relief from the constant rocking and his sore thighs.
“You will get used to it,” Lance’s voice appeared next to him.
“Really,” Michael asked with a doubtful expression and the young knight laughed. “Yes, but only so much.”
They rode next to each other in silence for a few minutes until Michael said, “I am sorry how I treated you, Sir Lance. You were only trying to do your duty and I made it hard for you.”
“Apology accepted, milord. Not all the blame is on you though, I was also still young back then. Well, I am still young but that’s not the point. I should have voiced my problems and not run away from them because I thought that I was being wronged,” the sincerity in the knight's voice made Michael smile.
“Let’s just say we have both grown up.”
Lance smiled back, “Indeed.”
A clicking noise pulled Michael’s attention to Eydis who had turned her horse around from her vanguard position and moved it to Michael.
“What is it?”
She was on high alert and Michael could guess what the reason was as she signed, “We are being tracked.”
They had followed the river as far south as they had been able to but had to turn east yesterday to cut through the lightly forested south of the wolf clan territory toward the kingdom of Garekha. The trees had obscured them well enough to stay hidden for most of the journey till now but apparently that was over.
“Alright, tell everyone to stop. Let’s make contact with our new friends,” Michael said, he was nervous about upcoming the conversation.
They all stopped, and the guards formed a protective circle around the wagons with the knights in the center.
“Solon, would you be so kind as to translate,” Michael asked while making himself as tall as possible on his horse.
“My dagranan is a little rusty but it should still work,” the dwarf answered and nodded at Michael to begin.
“Greetings, Vargr-Släkt. My name is Michael Rowan, new count of Reen and Emall. I wish to speak with you, so come out, you are in no danger,” Michael said, and Solon loudly translated.
Loud laughter echoed from the trees and a throaty voice answered in choppy remurian, “You are the one in danger whelp. How typically arrogant of one of your kind to come into our land and promise us safety.”
“The promise of safety seems reasonable to give after I have trespassed on your land with a group of soldiers,” Michael loudly replied with a mana-infused voice. He had been told that the wolves would respect strength, so he tried to seem unconcerned and forceful but stay polite.
He used a large amount of mana to sharpen his senses, but he still couldn’t make out any of their hunters, he did hear what he guessed was a female voice though. It was way darker than most human women would have but just a little lighter than the first one. “Oh, I like the little runt, he has some energy in him, can I keep him?”
“I am nobody's property,” Michael replied forcefully but still polite. “Come out and we can talk face to face.”
“Says the one hiding behind a wall of warriors,” came the first voice again with an undertone of humor.
Michael took a deep breath and dismounted from his horse. “Milord,” came the questioning question as he made his way forward. “This is not a good idea,” Sir Tomp said quietly but Michael ignored his warning.
“Make way,” he ordered the rank of guards who hesitated for a moment and then parted. Pushing his uneasiness down he stepped forward with his knights staying a meter behind him and stopped five meters in front of the wall of guards.
“Here I am. I am not afraid; can you say the same?”
He could hear the unease from his knights as their armor made small noises as they shifted their heads looking around.
With the sound of laughter returning a huge, dark figure split from the undergrowth and stepped out of the shadows.
The first thing Michael noticed were two yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the shadow of the trees. They were followed by a row of long and sharp teeth, warped to a huge grin. Lastly came the hulking mass of a nearly two-meter-tall wolf-kin. His fur was a dark shade of brown that nearly looked black, at some spots light caught exposed parts of his scale vest reflected off the metal but most was wrapped in cloth. Two long javelins were strapped to his back and a large two-handed axe rested in his hands. A large scar went around his upper, jaw and looked like a half ring on it.
“What are you, runt? Brave or foolish,” the beast said as it stepped closer and closer.
Michael stopped his guards with a raised hand. “I wish to negotiate with your leader, call that what you want.”
“I am in charge here,” the wolf-kin said and finally stopped three meters away from Michael.
“I mean you chief. I have a proposition to make to him that would benefit both our people.”
“Sure,” the wolf said and grinned again, “Come with me to our camp and we can talk.”
“No.”
“No? I think I will have to insist.” The wolf growled and made a step closer, but Michael wasn’t focusing on him anymore.
He ignored the implied threat and continued looking around. “I see four more,” he said and looked back to his guards.
“I have six,” Sir Tomp replied, and the other knights nodded.
Eydis snapped her fingers and pointed to the left at a tree and Sir Tomp quickly corrected, “Seven.”
Michael turned back to the Vargr-Släkt, the wolf was growling lowly and gritted his teeth. “You are in no position to threaten us right now. I don’t want a fight, just that you deliver a message to your chief.”
Michael gave a signal to two guards who carried a crate forward and placed it next to their lord. “This is a gift from me to him. Tell him I would like to talk about making peace and opening trade between our people. It has not gone unnoticed that you haven’t raided us in over a year, and we would like to see if we can’t work together.”
“Make peace? With you? You must be joking,” the huge wolf laughed.
“Will you convey this message and deliver the gift,” Michael insisted, he knew once the wolf-kin promised it he would be honor-bound to keep his word.
“Hehe, it will be your funeral, little human. Yes, I will deliver your message and your gift.”
“Good, tell your chief that I am going to the dwarven kingdom and will come back through here in one or two weeks and would like to talk then,” Michael said while bowing his head slightly to the warrior.
The wolf chuckled a little, “We will be waiting for you, one way or another.” He then grabbed the handle of the crate, turned around, and vanished back into the forest.
Michael stood there a while longer until Sir Tomp said, “They are gone.” Michael then deflated and breathed in heavily a couple of times. His heart was pounding like crazy, and he hoped that the wolf didn’t hear it. He felt like he hid his nervousness well enough, but we couldn’t know.
“Well, now we won’t have another choice. They will be waiting for us at the border and will bring enough manpower to contest us,” Lance said and took off his helmet.
“Yes, let’s just hope that we haven’t interpreted their behavior wrongly,” Michael concluded and returned to his horse.