Mantorial is a small country wedged in between Banmark and Shanzon. This small country in times past consistently skirmishes with its bigger neighbours. With its population of three hundred thousand people it relies heavily upon the forest of Mantoria to protect them from Orc incursions.
Naturally skilled in battle these people held back the supremacy for close to two years. The current Ysar of the time, Sogen, decided in his wisdom to ignore the warlock council and allow the Mantorial people a measure of self-rule to honour them for their bravery.
Warriors of Mantorial, written by Warlock Donal of The High Council 1165 LP (Light Period)
He was swimming in the river with his friends, splashing in the water playing witch and warlock, throwing water at each other and calling out spells or curses they were using. The river was shining a perfect blue in the sunlight, bathing the children playing in the water with a warm light. The pearly clouds above danced across the sky. The palm trees swayed side to side, on both sides of the river. The lush emerald green grass sparkled in the daylight.
Without warning the grass withered; the water darkened becoming a slimy muck. The sun cast shadows upon the earth. The trees became twisted and wilted like hunchbacked goblins. The children stopped playing, and watched with growing horror as the world contorted. His friends cried out in anguish as they turned to ash, crumbling to the dry, dusty earth.
From the distance, atop the clouds, a mocking laughter rang in his ears; a dry voice called to him, “Accept your fate and die.” The harsh voice reverberated in his skull, sending tremors down his limbs that brought such agony, the likes of which he had never felt before, thundering into him. Black clouds sealed the blue sky above from sight, and released a torrent of rain to cleanse the land, but it was too late.
Raid awoke panting, his body bathed in sweat, the vivid image of the world being destroyed still strong in his mind. Drawing short breaths he calmed himself, and surveyed his new surroundings. He was in a small room, with whitewashed walls that had a few grubby stains on it. A tapestry hung on the wall in front of him depicting a man sitting on a horse wearing polished steel plate armour, with the Mantorial sigil engraved upon the chest plate.
The knight in the tapestry was posing in front of a castle that was far off in the distance surrounded by a moat and creatures that looked partly human and fish. Beneath the tapestry was a fireplace that was providing the room with heat. In the corner of the room was a small table, standing on three legs, carrying a silver plate of what he hoped was food, a silver pitcher, a loaf of bread, a basket of fruit and a bronze cup.
Swinging his feet out from under the thin blanket, he walked over to the table, only realising he was naked when he was halfway across the room. A derisive snort came from behind him. The second occupant of the room said in a sarcastic tone, “Is that what you normally do, Raid? Walk around the room naked?” Raid groaned inwardly; that had sounded a lot like Lady Mira. Turning his head he swore aloud as he saw her sitting in a chair beside the bed, hidden in shadow. She materialised out of the shadows wearing a golden silk dress that clung to her form, her cheeks a perfect pink and looking like she had only moments ago scrubbed herself clean, giving the room the scent of washed soap. Her red lips tightened at his swearing.
“Is that how you thank the person who saved your life?” she said coldly. Taking a breath to cool his temper, Raid quelled his dislike for the witch who so eagerly taunted him and decided to treat her with a measure of respect.
After all, she was a witch and had the power to take his life away with a single word. “Where are my clothes?” he asked politely. She pointed to the front of the bed, where his clothes lay in bundle. Trying to ignore her appraising gaze, he dressed himself, pulling on his dishevelled silver trousers stained red with blood, then his leather padded shirt. He heaved his light chain mail on with a grunt and covered it up with his dusty silver shirt that had become a pale pink from the wash. Seeing his sturdy black calfskin boots tucked in beneath the bed, he picked them up and sat down on the edge of the bed to slot them onto his feet, the soft insides warming his toes.
Done dressing, he questioned Mira. “Where am I?”
She waved her hand at the walls. “Can’t you guess, Raid? Isn’t this your hometown?”
Raid grunted in reply. “I haven’t been here in years, Witch; things change,” Raid said with a touch of annoyance. Lady Mira scrutinised him with her brown eyes, not sure whether to believe him or not. At last she said, “We are in the hospice, specifically the recovery section of the hospice.” Raid smiled to himself at that.
His father had told him years ago that his mother had wanted to build a hospice here. His mother had a will as strong as iron, and usually got what she wanted. Still smiling, he wondered if his parents were in town; surely they would have come to see him by now. Boots on, he hopped off the bed, and searched the room for his sword. Knowing what he was looking for, Lady Mira pointed to the blanket on the bed.
Raid swept the single sheet off the bed to expose his wonderfully crafted Mantorian blade with its ogre hilt. He slipped the sword into the leather sheath attached to the waist of his trousers, and gripped the hilt of his blade. Feeling the ogre’s tusks dig into his skin, he gave a powerful sigh of relief at being reunited with his sword.
Fully dressed, he headed towards the table, his stomach rumbling at the smell of delicious food wafting towards him.
Practically starving from not eating the whole day, he sat down at the small table and grabbed the freshly baked loaf of bread laid out. And bit into the bread hungrily, the moist bread melting in his mouth. He almost groaned in pleasure from the taste of the spicy bread; he took another bite, only pausing a moment to pull the silver dish filled with tomato soup mixed in with vegetables closer to him. He bent his head down slightly to take a whiff of the lovely aroma that rose up from the soup, before breaking off a chunk of bread from the loaf to dip into the soup.
As he enjoyed the meal he asked Mira quietly, “How did you save me, Witch? I was fine when I got here.”
Lady Mira stood up and glided to the tapestry to stand in front of it with her hands on her hips. “You were poisoned, you dimwitted fool” she replied scornfully. “Those black blades they used in the battle are made from obsidian, Raid, obsidian, and if you know anything about obsidian it has a tendency to sap energy and on occasion can poison the bloodstream,” she said in imperious voice.
Raid’s attention snapped back to the witch. “Those blades were obsidian? Where would they get so much of it? Obsidian isn’t cheap.”
Lady Mira’s lips curled up with loathing at Raid’s foolish questions. “How would I know, foolish filth?” she said contemptuously. “In any case we must leave soon, the witch council must learn about this attack here,” she said haughtily at Raid with her nose in the air.
Done with eating the soup, he wiped the plate clean and wished there was more. His famished body demanded more, but with sheer will he ignored his uncontrollable hunger to focus on Lady Mira’s golden complexion. “And why on earth would I want to leave with you? You have been nothing but a crick in my neck, treating me like dirt,” challenged Raid. Her fists clenched at her sides, the blue glow of magic dripping from her fingertips. “Because, you FOOLISH FILTH, the world is in danger, someone is making humanoids, hundre—” Raids stomach rumbled again, interrupting Mira’s lecture.
She looked ready to strangle him barehanded. Ignoring her furious stare, he took the ceramic cup from the table, filled it with water from the silver pitcher and drank deeply. He sighed at the divine taste of the chilled water pumped from the river. Satisfied for now, he said with surprising calm, “So the creatures were humanoids, huh? Interesting. Who would have the knowledge to birth such beasts?” enquired Raid.
Taking a breath, she said in a condescending tone, “A dozen witches worked together on an experiment as part of the war effort; they fused human subjects with animals to develop the ultimate assassins whose job it was to hunt and kill warlocks.” Her brown eyes scowled at him in the dimly lit room. “Now will you help me?” she insisted with a snarl.
Again Raid avoided answering the question, choosing instead to ask, “Those men I fought were assassins?” he exclaimed. Throwing her hands up in the air with frustration, she released a small fireball into the ceiling, scorching a black circle into it. Raid chuckled; he did enjoy teasing her. Finishing the pitcher of water, he said cheerfully, “’Course I will help you … for a price.”
Mira opened and closed her mouth repeatedly “You want to be paid to help save the world???” she said with as much disdain as she could manage.
Raid rolled his shoulders and replied nonchalantly, “I am a mercenary; can’t be doing things for free now, can I?” She growled at him and paced the room furiously to calm herself.
Eventually she straightened her face. “How much, exactly?” she asked sweetly.
Raid rubbed his chin. “Hmmm, let’s say ten sirens.” She strode over to him and slapped him hard on the cheek. Rubbing his cheek that had gone pink and was stinging like a bee sting from the slap, he enquired, “Guess I could go lower: five sirens?” She raised a hand to slap him again, but Raid blocked it easily. “Now, now, five sirens is a fair price.” Mira, seeing Raid wasn’t going to relent, muttered insults under her breath and shook hands with him in agreement.
“Good, now tell me more about these humanoids that I killed today,” asked Raid intently, wanting as much information on these dangerous foes as he could get.
“The humanoids we faced today are assassins, but different. These creatures we fought today are much less skilled than the ones used in the Arcane War; whoever is making these humanoids is using poor material and creating them in large quantities,” said Mira, taking a seat on the bed.
“So these humanoids I killed today, they are not as skilled as the assassins of the past?”
Lady Mira sniffed her nose in reply. “To put simply, yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re not equally as dangerous in large groups; building an army of humanoids could ruin the world,” she proclaimed confidently.
Raid, a mischievous gleam in his apricot eyes, said casually, “Guess it doesn’t matter, I can handle anything.” Mira’s eyes lit up with rage at the foolishness of this man, but before she could speak, he got up to leave, infuriating her even further. The man was an imbecile, how could she possibly like him? She wanted to scream at him to take it seriously.
The sound of knocking on the door, followed by the doorknob turning to let in the hulking form of Trogon, broke her line of thought. He was wearing only his wide trousers, with his shirt wrapped around his arm to reveal his smooth ebony chest. Concerned for his large friend, Raid asked, “You okay, big man?”
Trogon smiled sheepishly. “I’m fine, Raid, the poison in the blade was neutralised by my titan blood,” brushing aside Raid’s concern. “Anyway, I overheard voices here and thought you might be up,” said Trogon, changing the subject.
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Raid didn’t mind; he was glad to see his travelling companion again, when a thought hit him. “The girl I was carrying, is she okay? Where is she?” Trogon looked at Raid questioningly, as did Lady Mira; why would Raid be so concerned over the girl? Raid ignored their questioning stares and waited for a reply.
Trogon finally broke the silence. “She’s fine, Raid, she’s sleeping in the room next door.”
Raid gave a relieved chuckle at the welcome news and gave Trogon a slap on the back in welcome. “Let’s go find some heart-knocker to drink and visit my parents, my mother is the best at cooking roasted pork,” he said, wanting to be gone from the room that was starting to smell of sweat. He was already imagining the succulent pork his mother would make, the pork roasting in its juices, flavoured with spices to make any man’s mouth water.
Trogon’s eyes travelled to Lady Mira, who had stood back up to stand by the fireplace, her arms folded at her chest with a reserved expression on her face. Raid, seeing the glances passing between them, asked “What is it?”
Trogon replied, his voice filled with regret, “I have enlisted in the Mantorial army Raid.” Raid stared at Trogon, unable to believe what he was hearing. Trogon pressed on. “The humanoids need to be dealt with, Raid; whoever is making them must be stopped for the sake of the whole world. You should join too.”
Raid snorted in disgust at his friend’s weakness. “We are mercenaries, Trogon, mercenaries, we are paid to kill, not to fight for some damn cause,” he said angrily and strode out of the room, slamming the tough oak door behind him.
Head down, Raid impatiently wove his way through the elegant hallways and past the beautiful mosaic windows that were draped in purple satin curtains. He even saw weaponry of all things in the hospice, hanging upon the walls on either side of him. Serving men and women attired in bright green clothing, with the tree of Mantoria on their chest, worked in the hallways, dusting or moving about purposely. They bowed to him as he passed through the hallways. He responded by giving them a polite nod of acknowledgment in respect, but didn’t bother to stop.
Furious at Trogon’s betrayal, he wasn’t watching where he was going. When he smacked solidly into a man in full plate armour, engraved with the Mantorial tree on his chest. The man, startled, opened his mouth to speak, but Raid was already moving around him to leave. A gauntleted hand seized Raid by the shoulder to stop him from leaving; Raid spun on his heels, ducking under the fully armoured man’s arm to break his hold, then booted the armoured man in the backside with enough force to smash him into the wall head first. As the man collided into the wall, his hands ripped the curtains as he tried to halt his fall to the marble floor. Raid’s foot ached from the blow, but it did feel nice to pour his anger out at someone else.
Leaving an impression behind in the wall, the armoured man got up and glared at Raid angrily from within his steel plate helmet and drew his ornate blade. Raid smiled in anticipation, he would enjoy beating up this puffed-up fool, plus it would keep his mind occupied at least for a while. The armoured man got to his feet, staring daggers at this impudent scum, who had dared to walk into him. Then froze at the sight of Raid’s face. “Raid?” questioned the man in surprise.
“Yes, that’s my name. Now, are we going to fight or what? Got an itch I want to scratch,” replied Raid arrogantly to the armoured man who tugged off his conical-shaped helmet and set it on the marble floor to release a long stream of crimson hair that fell down his back.
Raid’s memory was jarred, as he recognised the man in the plate armour of the Mantorial military. His youthful tanned skin was wet with sweat from the heat in his armour, his cool green eyes were studying him sternly, with his mouth curved in a slight mischievous smile that he knew so well. “Daok?” asked Raid, astonished at seeing his childhood friend.
Daok grinned at him. “Stop your gawking, Raid, and give me a proper welcome.” Raid couldn’t believe how tall Daok had gotten since he had left. He was nearly the same height as him and he was pretty tall. He went to give his old friend the traditional back slap, not really sure why, since Daok was wearing plate armour and wouldn’t feel it, when Raid suddenly felt dazed as pain pounded in his jaw. He felt like he had just been hit by a rock. Rubbing his jaw, Raid spat some blood out onto the marble floor, having bit his tongue. Daok, seeing Raid’s confusion, laughed and said, “That’s for kicking me”.
Raid touched his lip gingerly where a cut had opened up, not understanding how his friend had been so quick. Daok, in steel plate armour, should have been slow enough for Raid to see the blow coming a mile away. Daok gave Raid a knowing look, reading his expression easily, and fished out a golden amulet with the emblem of a dragon on it, dangling on a golden chain from his neck, tucked inside his armour. He showed it to Raid. “Got it from a Lady Sandria; she put a charm spell on it so I could move quickly in this heavy armour.” Witches, thought Raid with a grimace. Of course, it had to be witches; seems they’re always the cause of his grief. His jaw still throbbing, Raid asked, “How are my parents?” Daok winced at the mention of Raid’s parents. Apprehensive at the pain that had flashed in Daok’s green eyes, Raid wanted to ask more questions.
Daok, however, wanted more privacy and said, “Come, Raid, we should first catch up properly, and for that we need heart-knocker,” pointing to the doorway ahead that led into the streets. Raid wanted to force Daok to tell him what he knew, but seeing his pleading expression on his friend’s chiselled face, Raid nodded. Daok picked up his steel-plated helmet and walked with the grace of a lion beside Raid. Together with his friend he headed to the exit, stepping outside into the hot sunlight. Raid held back a moment to admire the finely stitched wool that hung above him, sheltering the inhabitants of the town from the sweltering sun.
Taking this opportunity to absorb the feeling of being back home again, breathing in the sweet smell of his hometown, he stood there savouring the sight of the familiar cobbled-stone streets and cement houses that lined the streets. He listened to the sound of children laughing as they ran through the streets, dodging people as they played a game of tag. Faces passed by that he knew: Gane the merchant wobbling in his rich purple robes, bargaining with a storekeeper; Bunter the Innkeeper off to the market to get supplies; and Shelly the elderly pastry vendor, selling her delicious pastries filled with creamy yellow custard to the people walking by. Daok slapped him on the back. “Must be nice to be home.”
Raid was speechless, still drinking in the sight of his home. He was overjoyed at being home, although he did wish he had come home with enough coin to take his family to Sky Bastion. Though it did not diminish the rising excitement he felt at being back here again. “Come on, let’s go to the Tree Root Inn and I will tell you about your parents,” said Daok.
Raid nodded his head in agreement and walked into the stream of people going about their daily lives, his feet leading him unconsciously to the Tree Root Inn, where he had spent his youth drinking with his friends. Daok lumbered beside him in his steel plate armour with women giving him admiring looks as he passed by. Men came up to Daok to clap him on the back and congratulate him on his victory at the gates. The guardsmen patrolling the street in their green surcoats with heavy chainmail underneath stopped to offer Daok a drink from the water skins tied at their waist. Raid waited politely as Daok thanked the men and took a sip as a gesture of respect. Before continuing on, Raid gave Daok a curious look of surprise at how important his friend had become. Seeing the inn ahead Raid grinned. The simple sign was hanging out in front of the inn on a pole swinging back and forth in the wind.
The sign showed a man holding a tree root, with black letters below saying WELCOME TO THE TREEROOT INN. Daok took the lead, walking into the inn ahead of Raid. Raid entered the inn after Daok to see a room full of sturdy wooden tables, elegantly designed to rest on three legs, surrounded by seats with clean white cushions resting on top of them. The inn’s wooden walls were bare of any ornaments, in case of a fight. On an elevated platform in the corner of the inn was a man dressed in a brown travelling cloak, sitting on a stool and playing a soothing melody on his harp. The few occupants of the inn sat around tables eating and talking with each other quietly.
The innkeeper, hearing footsteps on the squeaky, wooden floorboards got up from the floor, cleaning what appeared to be a bloodstain, and came over to greet them. “Welcome to the Tree Root Inn, Descendent, it’s good to see you again,” said the plump innkeeper who wiped sweat from his forehead that was hidden underneath a thick mop of white hair. Then he switched his attention to Raid. “And welcome to you too, traveller, did you come with the first group of arrivals, by any chance?” enquired the nosy innkeeper eagerly. Raid shook his head. The innkeeper returned his attention to Doak and gave him a worried chuckle while saying, “Quite the day, wasn’t it, Descendent? You must have been busy? A new witch arrives, then a horde of black-robed fiends try to break in carrying devilish weapons; quite the day indeed,” said the innkeeper, sadly shaking his head. “But, then again, you were there, weren’t you, Descendent?” asked the innkeeper who gazed at Daok with intense interest, hoping to glean information to later entertain his customers. Daok snorted at the weak attempt by the innkeeper to wiggle information out of him and pointed to Raid. “Surely you remember Raid. He left home same time as me, and has just returned.”
Raid grimaced slightly at Daok cleverly dodging the question and re-directing the innkeeper’s big, blue eyes back at him, forcing Raid to remember why he had started avoiding the Tree Root when Luen took over. The man could not stop talking, spilling secrets to anyone that would listen. The man could pester customers for weeks trying to wheedle information from them. Still, thought Raid guiltily, he was a good man, and kept a clean inn. So Raid smiled at the delighted innkeeper.
“Raid, you have returned; what an honour it is to have you here,” said Luen, giving Raid a bow as he spoke, his bulging belly shaking as he bowed.
“It’s good to be home; what news of my parents?” replied Raid, which set the innkeeper’s face alight; he always enjoyed answering questions.
“They’re in fine form, in fine form indeed; they left Mantorial three weeks ago to take on new jobs.” Raid gave the innkeeper a startled expression. He scowled at Daok beside him.
“They left? Why didn't you tell me?”
Daok gave Raid an apologetic grin. “Was actually going to tell you when we were sitting down enjoying a glass of heart-knocker,” he said with a pointed look at Luen.
The innkeeper blushed red at the accusing tone, and bobbed his head and led them quickly to a table close to a window. They were not far away from a group of men, who looked to be farmers with mud covering their blue overalls, playing a game of Hunt the Warlock, where the aim of the game, if you’re a warlock, was to survive thirty-five rounds, whereas the witches had to find and eliminate all the warlocks on the board before thirty-five rounds is up. Luen bobbed his head again before going to fetch a bottle of heart-knocker for them.
Raid sat down with a sigh, his body not yet recovered from the fight. “So you’re a Descendent now?” said Raid as he sank into the comfortable chair with its cushion stuffed with chicken feathers.
Daok shrugged his armoured shoulders self-consciously. “Yes, it seems that way; I was given the position of Descendent after serving for four years in the ranks as an Ancestor,” he said, his eyes dropping to the table top carved with trees. “Don’t know why, really. We already have a Descendent, Descendent Kadgar.” He looked at Raid. “ Anyway, guess Lady Sandria thought there would be trouble and decided the country needed another Descendent.” Raid couldn’t hide his surprise at that.
Daok smiled in amusement. “Yeah, couldn’t believe it myself; in any case, I am second in command of the Mantorial military.” Daok’s expression darkened, and with a serious voice he said, “About your parents, Raid: the story Luen told you was a lie, created by Lady Sandria to deceive the enemy into thinking that we weren’t hunting them.” Daok whispered, “Your parents are missing, Raid”.
Raid felt his heart clench in his chest, eyes flooding with overwhelming concern. “What?” gasped Raid, still unable to believe what he was hearing.
Daok continued. “Your parents are missing, Raid; they didn’t leave for Mantoria like I told Luen,” repeated Daok. Raid’s mouth opened up angrily. Daok, reading the rage and confusion, raised his gauntleted fist to halt Raid’s assault. “Listen, Raid, I know what you’re going to ask and I don’t know what’s happened to them, but they were not the first.” He leaned in closer to Raid, his seat creaking beneath the weight of his armour. “The disappearances started a month ago; the prisoners in the dungeon vanished first, next it was a dozen or so farmers out in the field and then a week ago your parents disappeared as well.” Daok waited for the information to sink in.
Raid felt like he had been hit hard in the ribs and told that the world was really an apple. Raid unlocked his mouth to ask Daok how, when the innkeeper reappeared carrying a silver tray that held a bottle of heart-knocker and two well-polished silver cups that he set down on the table. Smiling as he set the cup down, he said, “Apologies for the delay, Descendent and young Raid, my wife was keen on speaking to me, very keen,” the innkeeper’s eyes glazing over as he revisited the conversation in his mind. “Yes, she was very keen to speak with me indeed,” mumbled the innkeeper who frowned as he retreated to leave them alone.
Daok gave a relieved smile. “For a second I thought he was going to start in with the questions again.”
Raid not listening anymore, had begun planning in his mind how to find his parents. Someone must know something. Daok, seeing the far-off look in his friend’s face, struck the wooden table with his gauntleted fists to regain his attention. Raid looked up at Daok the trance broken. “What is it?” snapped Raid. “Has your plan of doing nothing to find my parents succeeded?”
Daok’s eyes went icy cold, his lips tightening with anger. “Just listen, you hard-headed fool, Lady Sandria’s plan worked, only a few people know this, so listen,” he snapped angrily. Daok turned his head to check if anyone was eavesdropping and saw the innkeeper watching them with intense interest from the counter.
He scowled at the innkeeper, who blushed again and went out back. Certain now that they were alone, Daok whispered, “Lady Sandria placed a charm on this whole town, so she would be able to detect where the people of this town are being taken to.” Raid leaned in, his full attention on Daok. “Late last night another man was taken, and she was able to scry his location out on the map,” finished Daok with undisguised satisfaction at Raid’s opened-mouthed astonishment.