The Mantorial army is primarily a military force recruited from the local population and stationed in garrisons along the border. They are supported by a strong naval presence at sea. The Mantorial army has always maintained a high level of discipline, strategic prowess and organisation. In its time, the Mantorial army was one of the most powerful and effective military forces within the world. The size of the Mantorial army was initially estimated at 13,000 troops in 1136 (Light Period), but as they expanded, the army gradually grew to 20,000 troops by 1141 LP (Light Period). The Mantorial military is organised into the following: Soldiers are called brothers. Ten brothers make up a unit led by an elder brother. Ten units of elder brothers make up a Forbearer. Ten companies of Forbearers make an Ancestor. Ten divisions of Ancestors make a Descendent. Ten divisions of Descendants make a Patriarch. The Patriarch is the overall commander. They are supported by troops of young men not yet old enough for war that scout ahead, and relay messages on horseback to the army.
Historical study of Military Practices, written By Warlock Donal 1179 LP (Light Period)
After Raid had stormed out of the room, Trogon glanced over at Lady Mira. Her eyes were feverish and her hands were balled into fists by her side. She seemed so forlorn, thought Trogon, he thought he actually felt pity for her. She stamped her feet onto the marble floor. “That man,” she growled. “Was he always such an imbecile?”
Trogon gave a dry chuckle. “I have known Raid for a couple of years now and he isn’t a fool, but he is ruled by his passions,” replied Trogon, who wondered if his friend would return.
Lady Mira sniffed. “Ruled by his passions, huh?” she said as she brushed her raven black hair from her golden complexion. “And what is this I hear about you joining the army? You’re supposed to escort me to Shanzo city.”
Trogon shrugged his hefty shoulders. “This needs doing; if what you told me earlier is true and humanoids are being made by someone, they need to be stopped,” he replied in his gruff voice. Hearing the stubborn conviction in his statement, she knew he wouldn’t listen to any of her arguments.
She stared at her feet, trying to decide her next step. “I guess I should travel with the Mantorial army as their advisor, till the council Of witches can send someone to replace Lady Sandria, and I will need to send a note to the council advising them of this new development.” Trogon’s face split into a wide grin. He had over time come to appreciate humans, mainly due to Raid’s intervention, and now found himself quite comfortable with Lady Mira’s presence. Seeing the broad grin on Trogon’s lips, Mira smiled back warmly. “Come on, you lumbering giant, let’s go find Raid before he does something foolish.” Trogon chuckled at that and followed Lady Mira as she went to leave. Her gown swept across the marble tiles as she walked towards the well-crafted doorway. Trogon, trailing close behind her, bumped into her as she stopped abruptly.
Lady Mira grunted in annoyance at the bump, but continued to stare pensively at the neighbouring room. The door was made of the same light wood that was well crafted, with rectangular wooden panels and a bronze doorknob. Lady Mira turned to exchange looks with Trogon. “Why do you think Raid was so interested in saving the girl?”
Trogon paused to collect his thoughts, unsure whether Raid would want Mira to know about his past. Her inquisitive eyes still upon him, he said, “You will have to ask him,” reading his desire to keep this a secret. She left him standing there and knocked on the door that the girl was in, then opened it and glided into the brightly lit room, Trogon pursuing her.
The room was exactly the same as the one next door, with a bed, fireplace and a table overlaid with food. The young girl was out of her bed wearing a torn, white dress of a herald. The girl was hastily packing the food laid out on the table into a sheet she had grabbed from the bed. The girl, startled at their appearance, grabbed her blanket stuffed with supplies and scurried towards Lady Mira. At the last second she dodged Mira to try and leave the room, only to crash head first into a surprised Trogon. She bounced off his solid body to land on her bottom with a firm smack that stung her backside. Unwilling to give up, she sprang back up onto her feet again, ready to try another escape, while at the same time giving Trogon an evil glare for obstructing her way. “Wait,” called Lady Mira. The young girl looked at Mira with her pale blue eyes. “I just want to talk with you.” Trogon moved into the doorway, completely blocking the way out with his large frame.
The young girl spat on the floor in disgust. “Guess I have no choice, don’t I?” she said petulantly, throwing another glare at Trogon, full of hate. Lady Mira moved to the bed and sat on the white mattress and pointed for the girl to sit on the bed beside her. Reluctantly the girl went to the bed and sat down on the opposite corner. As soon as she sat down she started speaking. “I’m sorry, all right, about taking your friend’s sword, but I needed the money. I heard that wooden blades from the forest of Mantoria were rare; thought I could pinch it to earn me enough coin to go to Sky Bastion,” spilled the girl in a rush.
Lady Mira brushed her blue gown unconsciously. “What’s your name?”
The girl stood up, the front of her upper lip pushed out, pale blue eyes flaming. “Why do you want to know?” challenged the girl.
Mira waved her hands in the air in a soothing gesture. “Because it’s the polite thing to do; my name is Mira, I am a witch, and the man in the doorway is Trogon Titan-Blood.” The young girl’s face turned a shade of grey and she came close to fainting; for the first time in her young life she was terrified. Her father had told her many stories about witches before he died and none of them were nice ones.
The girl’s eyes went to the doorway again, searching for a way out. Lady Mira spoke quickly, seeing the rabid fear washing over the young girl's face. “I am not here to hurt you,” said Mira with a nod to Trogon to support her.
Trogon’s violet eyes shone with kindness. “Lady Mira is a good person, young lady, you can trust her; maybe you didn’t hear seeing as you were in bed, but she was the witch that helped save this town.” The young girl’s panicked breathing slowed down as she digested what she was hearing. She had overhead the servants speaking about a great battle outside the walls as they were cleaning her room, so it could be true.
Tugging her ragged, torn white dress she spoke nervously. “My name is Kara.”
Lady Mira gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Kara,” replied Mira and moved a little closer to Kara on the bed. “Can you tell me why Raid saved you?” she asked gently to the young girl.
Kara replied, puzzled, “Raid, whose that? Is that the man I stole the sword from, the one that came after me in the forest?” Mira nodded her head. Kara touched her leg in response instinctively, then hesitantly lifted one side of her dress a few inches to reveal a thin pale leg that was bandaged heavily for them to see. Kara let her dress fall back down.
Trogon, standing in the doorway, peering at Kara with curiosity, was wondering where he had seen her before. When it hit him and he blurted out, “I know you!! You’re the herald from Kirenia going inn to inn spreading word of an escort job through the forest Mantoria,” Kara gawked at him and Lady Mira gave him a frosty stare.
“You know her?” she proclaimed to Trogon, her chin jutting forward.
Trogon was dazed now; how come Mira didn’t know the herald she had sent? Unsure, he said, “Didn’t you send her to spread the word that you needed mercenaries?” Mira, without hesitation, said, “No,” and turned to the young girl, who was seeking a way out again.
“Guess it doesn’t matter, what I really want to know is why Raid saved you?” Mira asked, her voice brisk.
Kara, clutching her blanket full of food, shrugged her thin, fair-skinned shoulders. “I don't know, all I know is that after I borrows the sword, I hears footsteps behind me, so I start running and I trip over a tree root, damn thing got me falling at a tree close enough to cut me leg up pretty badly,” she said with a wince, remembering the extraordinary pain she had felt as the bark of the tree sliced into her leg. “Then he comes along, picks me up and brings me here,” finished Kara with a wistful smile as she remembered the way Raid had chatted to her as he carried her in his strong, lean arms. The pleasant comforting sound of his heartbeat, beating near her ears; it was the first time in her life she had felt safe, truly safe.
Lady Mira got up off the bed. “Well, that’s one mystery solved; guess you were right, Trogon, the man is ruled by his heart, saving a girl that stole his precious sword,” she said in an annoyed voice. Trogon nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Let’s go, Trogon, there’s nothing left to learn here, Raid wouldn’t have gone far, considering how far he pushed his body yesterday,” she said and smoothly moved to the door. Trogon turned sideways to let Lady Mira past him, when the girl, in a worried voice, called out to her in the hallway.
“Is Raid okay?” Lady Mira gave Kara a peculiar look. “He will be fine, he just needs to rest and time to conserve his energy,” and with that Mira glided down the hallway past the servants curtsying to her and into the streets of Mantria.
The streets were packed with people dressed in white and blue clothing, jostling back and forth to get to work. Guards patrolled the streets in pairs of two in their green surcoats, with their coat of arms on the chest.
As soon as Trogon and Lady Mira appeared, people opened up a space around them and offered their gratitude again for their aid in saving the town. Trogon strode along beside Lady Mira in the crowded streets. The sun was starting to sink and the oppressive heat wave that had been with them all day was finally dying down. Nudging Mira with his shoulder to get her attention, Trogon said in a neutral voice as they walked, “What exactly is your plan?”
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Lady Mira waved her hand away at Trogon’s question. “Plans are for people who have time; we do not,” she replied simply.
As they passed a group of soldiers standing outside an inn, she continued. “Raid is a mercenary, so I offer him enough coin to get him to assist us with our quest and like all mercenaries he will accept,” she said in a confident tone. Trogon frowned; he disliked plans that relied on chance and human kindness. Before he could object Mira was gliding over to the group of soldiers idly playing a game of witches and wizards on the ground while they waited. Seeing their approach the men got up, their hands fingering sword belts at the sight of Trogon’s immense form lurching forward beside the well-dressed woman. “Who commands the troops stationed here?” she demanded with all the authority she could muster.
The men dropped hands from sword belts at her imperious voice. A tall, lanky man with a fringe of brown hair hastily answered, “We are commanded by Descendent Daok, Lady,” the man giving an uncertain bow as he spoke, not really certain how to treat a Lady.
“Where can I find him? I have urgent business with him,” snapped Lady Mira to the lanky soldier. The man bobbed his head and made another half bow. “He’s just inside, Lady, talking to some stranger that entered the city today,” he replied. A stranger, thought Lady Mira, could she have found Raid as well? But what business would Raid have with a Descendent?
Ignoring the soldier’s questioning stare, she smoothly navigated her way past the men and went into the inn. Trogon nodded his head to the soldiers in respect, getting a few in return from the men, a few who recognised the man that had helped to save this town. He casually walked into the inn behind Lady Mira. Lady Mira, expecting to see a filthy inn, crowded with lecherous drunks and dilapidated furniture broken apart for firewood, was pleasantly surprised to walk into an inn that was refined and immaculately clean, except for a spot on the floorboards not far away that was smeared with droplets of blood. Other than that, this inn was quite nice; the walls were bare giving the inn an air of pure simplicity that delighted her.
Hearing Trogon’s heavy footfalls on the floorboards behind her, she said in a matter-of-fact tone, “Not really the type of inn I imagined soldiers would frequent.” Trogon gave a rumbling laugh at the comment, attracting the attention of two men at a nearby table, the man to the left recognising the huge man with the hefty axe swinging side to side on his back and the gorgeous woman in her fine blue silk dress. The man spoke to his friend in a voice filled with awe, while pointing at them to explain something. Lady Mira, noticing the stir they were creating, moved to the right of the room into the shadowy corner.
The innkeeper, a bald, sweaty man with a white apron tied around his thick waist, materialised out of a doorway to their right. Spotting new customers in the shadows attempting to be inconspicuous, he bustled over to them, his tongue afire with curiosity. Lady Mira drifted forward to meet the beaming innkeeper. “Welcome to the Tree Root Inn,” exclaimed the innkeeper, waving his hands to the side, a broad smile on his lips. “I am Luen, the owner of this great inn,” he said with a flourish and a bow to the well-dressed lady.
Lady Mira’s mouth quirked into a smile at the innkeeper’s attempt to be courteous and asked, “We are looking for Descendent Daok; if you could take us to him we would be very pleased.” Luen’s brown eyes lit up with interest. “Do you know Descendent Daok? Are you friends of his? Were you by any chance at the wall? When he repelled the assault from those nasty creatures,” exclaimed the innkeeper in a rush, his eyes eager for answers.
Trogon stepped out from the shadows to loom over the small, plump innkeeper. “We just want to speak with him, thank you,” growled Trogon with a voice that sent chills down Luen’s spine.
“Of course, sir, of course,” said the innkeeper, quailing before Trogon’s stony eyes. “If you will follow me,” and turned to weave his way through the common room between tables.
Lady Mira let a gap open up between the innkeeper and them before turning on Trogon with a scowl. “There was no need to scare the poor man,” she whispered furiously.
Trogon grimaced. “I have been inside many inns, Lady, and innkeepers like that man there,” nodding his head to the innkeeper, “they love to talk, would you really have wanted to stand around for however long to answer all his questions?” asked Trogon, stubbornly refusing to be cowed by her cold eyes. She gave a grunt of annoyance, knowing that Trogon was right, but declined apologising for her hasty judgement and hurried to catch up with the innkeeper.
Trogon shook his head at some of the conclusions humans leapt to; humans were by nature a judgemental lot. Sighing, he surveyed the room for potential threats, not willing to ever be caught unaware. He was ever the practical one, he had learnt early on as a child not to evaluate people by appearance as it was often misleading. And although he couldn’t detect anything, he felt anxious and worried that he might have missed something.
Lady Mira, having caught up to the fast-moving innkeeper, nearly bumped into him when he stopped abruptly to point at the corner of the room. “Descendent Daok is at the table over there,” said Luen anxiously, still fighting the urge to enquire how she knew the Descendent. Seeing Trogon stroll up to them, he bobbed his head to her and left quickly. Lady Mira directed her eyes to where the innkeeper had pointed, and saw in the corner two men whispering to each other. One of the men was in full plate armour, his helmet resting on the table, long red hair flowing to his shoulders. The other person was Raid, wearing his usual silver shirt and trousers, his coal black cloak and sword lying on an empty seat next to him. Mira felt her heart flutter at the sight of the man, which angered her; the man was disrespectful to her, tactless and a nuisance. Yet despite all that her heart betrayed her by yearning to be close to him.
Raid, sensing eyes upon him, twisted his head around to see Lady Mira and Trogon making their way through the common room of the inn towards his table. And for the first time Raid was actually delighted to see her, startling him at the unexpected emotion; the troubling news about his parents must have hurt him pretty bad for him to want to be in her company again. Daok, noticing the flash of recognition on Raid’s face, asked, “Do you know these people?” Raid nodded his head mutely in reply.
Daok stood up as the pair drew close and offered the customary skin of water to Lady Mira. She took the water skin hesitantly, holding it in her honey-coloured hands, and looked to Raid, unsure what to do next. Raid spoke, “It is tradition in Mantorial to take a sip of water when meeting new people or people you have not seen in a long time as a token of friendship,” said Raid who was also standing up to greet his friend Trogon by clasping arms with him. “I am sorry for the way I reacted Trogon, I…” Trogon stopped Raid with a slap on the back that nearly toppled him.
Trogon gave him an embarrassed grin. “I understand, Raid; it will be strange not travelling with you by my side,” said the big man gruffly. Raid laughed, enjoying the awkward way Trogon expressed his sadness at leaving his friend. Trogon’s mouth tightened in anger at the mocking laugh and cracked his massive knuckles ominously. Lady Mira shook her head at the men’s posturing.
“Men,” she said with unconcealed contempt and drank a sip from the water skin. She then passed the water skin to the tight-lipped Trogon.
Trogon grasped the water skin in his big hands and drank a sip, then poked Raid in the chest. He squeezed the neck of the cow-skinned water bottle, pretending it was Raid’s neck to get the message across. Daok stepped in to collect the water skin, giving Trogon an annoyed look as he collected it. Daok turned to face Lady Mira. “It is nice to see you again, Lady Mira, may I say thank you once more for aiding me in defending the town,” taking her small hand in his gauntleted fingers and pressing them to his steel plate chest with an alluring gaze. Lady Mira felt blood rushing up to her face, blushing at the intense gaze that was devouring her, only turning away from her as Raid coughed, feeling uncomfortable at the way his friend was staring at her.
Daok turned to face Trogon and said, “I would like to thank you too, Trogon; your intervention on the wall is the reason why we were able to hold this town.” Trogon shrugged his massive shoulders, pretending to act like what he did on the town walls today was an everyday occurrence.
“It was an honour to fight side by side with you, Descendent; I have never seen a human move so quickly wearing such heavy raiment and with such skill too,” complimented Trogon grudgingly. Daok acknowledged the compliment with a smile.
He gave Raid a crushing hug as he pressed him into his armour plated chest. “It was good to see you again, my friend,” he said and released Raid from his tight clasp before moving to leave. He stopped and twisted his head. “You have until morning to decide, Raid; I will be leaving today to link up with my men mustering at Galigans farm, you have until then.” Daok, catching sight of an intrigued innkeeper lying in wait at the front desk, strode rapidly through the common room to avoid being accosted.
Trogon, baffled by Daok’s parting words, rotated his head to ask Raid, “What was that about?”
Lady Mira chimed in. “Yes, what was that about?” Her cheeks were still crimson red as she eyeballed the inn’s entrance where Daok had left. Raid grunted at the swift verbal attack. “My parents were captured along with twenty to thirty criminals and farmers; they were taken to an island,” said Raid glumly as his mind returned to its original pressing concern: the abduction of his parents for reasons he did not know.
Lady Mira’s head swivelled to face him, her golden complexion transforming into open dismay, mouth dry. She seized Raid by the shoulders. “Which island were they taken to?”
Raid, frightened by the terror he saw in Mira’s eyes, replied, “Vaskonia.” Mira reeled back from Raid, eyes rolling into her head to reveal the whites and opened her mouth to scream as she fainted clean away. Trogon, closer of the two of them, caught the limp form of Lady Mira in his arms and picked her up.
A worried Raid leapt forward. “She okay?” Trogon slipped his left hand free from beneath her body and placed it at her open mouth. Feeling breath upon his palm, Trogon said, “She will be fine, just passed out.”
The fear gripping Raid’s chest loosened its grip and he sat back down with a thump onto the cushioned wooden seat. “All I said was the name of the island,” mumbled Raid, completely disconcerted at her reaction.
Trogon, thinking back to a conversation he had with Lady Mira, said, “Raid, she knew about those creatures we fought today; she said they were called humanoids.” Trogon rubbed his head, trying to remember everything she said to him. “She told me they were weapons, Raid, tools created for the sole person of ending the Arcane War by assassinating all the warlocks; she also said they were sent to an island to live out the rest of their short lives, once they had killed all the warlocks.” Trogon looked down at the Mira’s horror-stricken face. “It could be the island of Vaskonia.”
Raid, dazed by this new revelation, grabbed the bottle of heart-knocker from the table, pulled the cork out with his teeth, poured the clear, blue liquid into a silver cup and gulped the silky, smooth liquid down. Feeling a wave of serenity wash over him, Raid got to his feet again, tugged on his black cloak, picked up his sword, clipped the belt around his waist and said in a determined voice, “Let’s go, Trogon, we better give Daok this information, he will need to know what he is up against.” An ugly smile appeared on Raid’s face. “We have some killing to do.”