As the sun rose and blanketed the land with fresh morning light, a man stood atop a balcony on the highest keep of Castle Marcoir. Unlike the others who were about to begin the new day, the man had already begun it since last night.
He had eyebags lined against his face, his hair was a disheveled mess, and he was nervously scratching the railings on the balcony. His eyes were locked straight towards the distant forests which surrounded his castle.
Feeling slightly parched, the man tried to reach for his cup, but accidentally knocked it over since his face was still glued to the horizon.
“Damn…” the man quietly cursed then reached down for the cup.
Sudden knocking which came from the door in his room caused him to drop the cup. “By Humanos’ sakes! It’s so damn early in the damned morning! Who is it?!”
“Count Marcoir, it’s Lorferd, but if you are suffering from the Bloody Cramps, I can leave you be for now,” the voice behind Marcoir’s door answered.
The middle-aged count strode towards the door with heavy steps, then opened it to find the young Rhankish knight with a letter on hand. “This better be good, Lorferd.”
“Have you slept today? Or… recently? I believe we could burn you on a pyre right now so we could give Humanos a good scare,” Lorferd asked nonchalantly.
“Listen, Lorferd, it is nice and all to joke around with your liege but now is not the time, especially with the demons on our doorsteps,” Marcoir said as his hand twitched nervously. He placed a hard emphasis on the ‘demons’ part, and he looked uncomfortable just from saying that.
“My lord, how could you be truly sure that the… strange people are even demons?” Lorferd asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh? Oooh? Are you a demon expert now, Lorferd? Hmmm? How do I know that you’re not a demon?” Marcoir raised a knife which he pulled seemingly out of nowhere then continued, “Remember the scriptures, Lorferd? Remember?”
Lorferd rolled his eyes, then took the knife off the count’s hand. In exchange, he placed the letter onto the middle-aged man’s hands. “Of course, I do. I’m not exactly a religious man, my lord, but the scriptures said the demons were of inhuman nature, with barks for skins and saps for blood. Last I checked, our trees haven’t gotten up to murder us yet, and there’s no report of demonic incursions at the borders Koy.”
“Do not underestimate the Kojans, Lorferd. Just because all those demons are kept far east at Koy, doesn’t mean we’re safe. What if… they changed? They could’ve change their bodies to be more metallic like those lifeless husks we brought in!” Marcoir frantically stammered as he almost crumpled the parchment on his hand.
“You’re grasping for straws, my lord. Also, read the letter before you destroy it.”
Marcoir quickly looked over the letter, then knitted his brows. “And why does the princess want to come here? Remind me why the Royal Highness wishes to visit this divine-forsaken land? It’s cold, barren, ugly, and did I mention that it has demons running rampant in it?”
“My lord, you’re insulting the land which your family had watched over for many generations. It’s even named after your ancestor - Encoir. It’s what this castle and the current lords, even you, are named after too.”
“So what? It can’t change the fact that this place is… Bah! Never mind! We’ll get to nowhere!” Marcoir threw his hands in the air as he gave up.
“It could be that the princess wants to head to Varangia to look for those winged wolves,” Lorferd suggested.
“Last I remembered, only the males of royal blood are required to go through that idiotic ceremony. Why’s she planning on going through that? Is she aware that she only fulfilled half of the requirements for the ceremony? Couldn’t she just learn how to sharpen a knife or something?” Marcoir grumbled.
“She could be one of those adventurous spirits who really believe in myths like winged wolves, my lord.”
“Bah! Instead of princesses, I wish we could get knights or serjents! At least serjents! I need serjents, Lorferd!” Marcoir shouted in anger.
“What about Duke Villbrod? Isn’t His Highness coming to save us?”
“His Highness Villbrod is an idiot who would probably disregard this demon invasion coming right on our doorstep! He’ll be content sitting his wrinkled, dukely bottom in the richer parts of Western Rhankia, no doubt about it!”
“My lord, might I be given the permission to argue that anyone who says that there’s an imminent demon invasion would simply be ignored?”
“Permission denied, Lorferd,” Marcoir answered as he shut the door close.
Lorferd sighed, then waited for a few minutes before Marcoir opened the door once more. The count had donned pants and a large coat over his long tunic which made him look less of a madman, though his pale face still showed signs of fatigue.
Without being told, Lorferd stood aside to let Marcoir pass through the door, then he followed the count down to the main hall. “My lord, I actually received a piece of news as well.”
“What is it? More red-headed barbarians wreaking havoc against our poor, poor neighbor? Oh, don’t tell me! Demons are coming to burn our souls?!” Marcoir asked as they walked.
“Actually, it might be good news for you, somewhat. The Vyssians are making their moves on the other two castles in the area - The Barony of Kilothar and The Barony of Enfoir.”
“Castle Enfoir’s just a decoration, for Humanos’ sakes! How in the Purgatory is that supposed to be good news?”
“No, not that, my lord. Their Vyssian allies-”
“The demons.”
“Their Vyssian allies have not left Castle Norwind for a while now. Even after the Vyssians have marched, their allies are still holed up in Norwind.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Marcoir stopped in his tracks the moment Lorferd finished his sentence. He had a ghastly look on his face, then he began muttering to himself.
“When was this?” Marcoir asked nervously.
“I believe a few days ago? Perhaps when we killed the Vyssian allies’ patrol?” Lorferd answered.
“...” Marcoir mumbled.
“What was that, my lord?”
“They’re coming, Lorferd! I can feel it! They’re coming for my blood! They want to suck my soul!” Marcoir cried as he shook Lorferd by his shoulders.
“My lord-”
“I need a letter written to my cousins in the south. Have them prepare ample living space for me. I know-... I just know that these demons want revenge against me, Lorferd!”
“But the Vyssian allies are still at Castle Norwind. They haven’t moved a single step,” Lorferd remarked.
Marcoir closed his eyes then took a deep breathe. He blinked a few times, then said, “Fine. But even then, I want to give the corpses of the demons to the Cathedral of Saint Sallus.”
“You’re handing it to the Faith?” Lorferd asked with a skeptical look.
“Lorferd, you and I know that we’re nothing but bumpkins in terms of religion… or magic. We give the bodies to the priests for examination, and pray to Humanos that I am wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“That these things are truly demons.”
The two men stood there quietly for a while until Lorferd broke the silence, “If these are truly Kojans-...”
“Enough. I’ve had enough. Gather the most trustworthy men, including the men who are aware of the demons. We’re heading southwards with the corpses, and we might as well pick up reinforcements on the way back,” Marcoir ordered.
“We? You’re also going? What about the castle?” Lorferd asked.
“The barbarians and their demon overlords are still sieging the other two bastards up north. They won’t have enough men to siege my castle, so we’re still safe for a few months. While we still have time, I want answers, Lorferd,” Marcoir answered with a harsh tone.
“What about the Royal Highness?”
“You are smart enough to know that I would turn the brat down. Even without the demons rampaging around my outrageously ‘beautiful’ land, there are still Vyssians raiding like the apocalypse is coming tomorrow,” Marcoir replied. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, lord.”
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“Open the gates!”
Vyssian footmen scrambled around Castle Norwind as an army of drones marched across the bridge which separated Rhankia and Vyssium. Compared to the initial army sent by the Varangians, this new army was much larger with more noticeable differences in equipment.
Not only were there more huskarls and thanes, there were also strange looking beasts used for hauling. If one had to describe the creatures, ‘ugly and fat-looking hairy oxen’ wouldn’t be a wrong answer.
Slayer, Eoforwic, and Ecgbert watched the drone army march into the inner castle from the ramparts.
“That’s quite an army,” Eoforwic commented as he scratched his short beard.
“All that for a castle,” Ecgbert added.
“Ecgbert, in war, the more the merrier. It’s always good to have warriors, but it’s better to have a lot of warriors as well,” Eoforwic said.
“Wick, you’re always on and on about the ‘war’ part of warfare, but never the economics,” Ecgbert sighed.
The three men and drone walked down the ramparts to greet the leader of the new army. He was shorter than Slayer, almost the same height as Weaver. Other than that, he was covered from head to toe in silk or chainmail, but he wore a peculiar looking cuirass as well.
“Exarchi,” Slayer called out as he approached his fellow drone.
“These constructs are disgustingly inefficient, aren’t they?” Exarchi remarked as he studied Castle Norwind carefully.
The two Vyssian men beside Slayer waited for the two drones to finish their conversation. It was hard to determine since they truly had no idea how drone speech worked, so they stood there in complete silence until the new northman leader turned his attention to them.
“Greetings, or-gAHHH-nikks. I am called-” was followed by a series of bell rings which sounded like light winds blowing against hanging chimes when Exarchi attempted to introduce himself.
“Ex-...” Ecgbert stuttered then coughed before continuing, “Excuse me?”
“Give me a moment,” Exarchi said. Using hivespeak, he quickly asked Weaver what would be the closest approximation to his name in Vyssian tongue. “Ahem. My name is Exarchi.”
“Ah, so you are also a warlord like Slayer?” Eoforwic asked.
“Mmm, yes. Close enough. Both Slayer and I are equal in ranks, so don’t be a stranger to me when…” Exarchi waved his hands around then continued, “discussing strategies with me.”
“I assume you Varangians will be moving to take Castle Marcoir soon?” Ecgbert asked.
“Yes, very soon,” Exarchi replied. “Will you gentlemen be joining us?”
Ecgbert shook his head and answered, “Sadly, no. Eoforwic has to handle the Vyssian warbands, and I am an old bag of bones.”
“You say that, but you were still willing to spar with the likes of Sir Slayer,” Eoforwic remarked.
“Then why don’t you spar with Slayer?” Ecgbert suggested.
“Veterans like me have keen eyes when it comes to knowing who is dangerous and who is not,” Eoforwic replied. “Anyway, this is where we take our leave, Varangians. I’m sure you two have lots to talk about.”
When the Vyssians finally left the drones alone, Thane Alpha-Alpha-One emerged from the drone formations and carried a longsword to Slayer.
“The bluish sword is to be taken back to Mount Varangia for close examination,” Thane Alpha-Alpha-One said to Slayer.
“Absurd. I need it for the battle,” Slayer protested.
“Negative. That is a false statement,” Thane Alpha-Alpha-One pointed out.
Slayer stared at the thane then waited for a few seconds. “Since it is Master Custodian’s order, I will comply.”
“Regardless of your want, you have no room to disobey,” Thane Alpha-Alpha-One noted.
Slayer undid his belt, then handed the bluish sword to Thane Alpha-Alpha-One in exchange for the longsword. Before he tucked the sword around his waist, he checked the flexibility of the sword and its smoothness.
“I observe that this is quite durable,” Slayer commented. “Very high quality.”
“It’s made by Smith, you know?” Exarchi said as he pulled the sword off Slayer’s hands. He turned it around, then pointed at some engraving against the blade. “This is Smith’s attempt at writing. Funny, isn’t it?”
“Why did he do this?” Slayer asked as he took the sword back.
“Well, we looted a bunch of weapons from the organics, and we have a lot of manufactured equipment, so Smith wanted to differentiate the tools he made from the rest,” Exarchi explained. “It’s a good thing anyway. Smith’s equipments are close to equipment made by Master Custodian, so having his signature on the tools would make it easier to organize the tools by quality.”
Slayer ran his hand against Smith’s signature, then remarked, “It looks like the language we found in the books from the ruins under Mount Varangia.”
“We mostly have the language deciphered, and he found it hard to chisel a data block onto the sword without ruining it. It’s much more efficient this way, so whatever.” Exarchi shrugged like he didn’t care too much.
Slayer raised the sword to the sky to inspect it further. There were many wavy lines across the dark grayish blade, almost like looking at a shallow pond.
“It’s made out of what Niner calls ‘crucible steel’. It’s not like the bluish sword, but it’s good enough, right?” Exarchi pointed out.
“Affirmative,” Slayer answered as he swung the blade against the air. He slowly and carefully sheathed his new longsword around his belt, then moved towards the newly arrived reinforcements. “Let us move. We have a castle to take.”