A clamor louder than anything Valentin had heard, since he had arrived, possessed the main room of the longhouse. The newly arrived warriors mixed in with the existing groups and they loudly shared stories and jokes. Games of dice and other gambling coated the straw dusted dirt floor. While it was not done through some coordinated effort, all the groups of the longhouse seemed to gravitate toward a single point within.
Valentin’s group was no exception to this clustering. The boy sat in his freshly washed coat next to Morna in a small group that attempted to be within earshot of Ferron's group. Valentin assumed that if he called that display of village authority Ferron’s group, many villagers would take offense. However, it was difficult to dispute the show of dominance the warband leader took within the group. He sat on the cushion at the center of the arc of the semi-circle. To his right was Chief Glenna and to his left sat an old warrior that Valentin had yet to meet.
Naturally, when you are the center of the group, all attention from all corners of the room focuses on you. Whenever someone had approached the group, they would almost certainly always speak at Ferron even when most requests were intended for Chief Glenna.
For much of the evening, the leaders of the village of Lutant had been constantly petitioned by villagers to address a bevy of concerns that had been built up during the absence of the two highest standing members of the village. Valentin wondered why the elders that remained had not taken any action to address these complaints.
“When are they going to move on to the kids?” Valentin turned to ask Morna after a long winded complaint from an older gentleman was dismissed with little interest from those assembled to receive it.
“They’ll be tired of allowing the common villagers to speak to them soon,” Morna responded, sliding a couple copper coins into the center of the group. A thirteen had been rolled on three dice. She collected her winnings with a satisfied grin.
The long line that Valentin had just seen moments ago was forcibly whittled down to three by a couple warriors. It seems that, somehow, a sign had been relayed to spring them into action. Valentin decided to watch the dice game in front of him. If he heard sounds of interest from the rest of the groups then he would pay attention again.
This dice match was nothing like the one he had watched with Gervin. The only predator of hearts and minds was Morna. Did she only grab novices for the game? They didn’t seem to be too frustrated as the bets stayed extremely low, only one or two coppers a bet. It felt like each of the other players were entirely focused on only their bet and their roll. They never noticed Morna’s change in bet size depending on the roller or the fact that the person that sat next to her never bet more than a copper once. It was no high stakes heist but the woman was going to make out with a heavier purse.
A low murmur passed through the room and Valentin turned in recognition that Darri and his destitute band of refugee children had reached Ferron to start their audience. The general disdain that the villagers had never truly dissipated. However, much of the room had quieted to watch what the fate of these children would be.
“Hello children, who will I be addressing for this?” Vocal thunder rumbled from the mouth of the esteemed man in the center.
“Greetings, War Leader Ferron,” the delicate voice of Bassett barely cleared the mass whispers of the room. He stepped ever closer to the assembly. “My name is Bassett and I will be speaking to you.”
Valentin could see a warrior standing behind Ferron lean forward and spoke something into his ear. Ferron waved the man back and observed Bassett.
“You are not the leader of the group, Bassett,” Ferron accused. “It was a smart idea to use your most well-spoken member to speak on your behalf. Unfortunately, you will be judged on your leader’s ability to sell your value to me. That is, if you wish to remain as a group.” He pointed a finger to the large boy that the children had huddled around. “You, come here.”
Darri moved instantly into the semicircle as Bassett retreated. “G-greetings, Your E-E-Eminence,” Darri stammered helplessly. “I’m D-Darri and I’m the l-leader of these kids.”
“I heard that your village has been destroyed by sea raiders. Allow me to offer you my condolences and my sincerest hopes that their souls have returned to the Great Spirit,” Ferron said apologetically.
“W-we are unworthy of your concern, Y-your Eminence,” Darri bowed as low as he could in front of the stoic man. “U-unfortunately, I’ve been told that one of us did not receive a proper burial and I-” Darri stopped his sentence.
“And you?” Ferron pressed. The rest of the cushions could have been empty for all that it mattered. There was only one man that needed to be impressed by Darri.
“I almost foolishly requested something of you without having the right.” Darri bowed once again. “Apologies.”
Ferron looked towards a tattooed woman sitting on his right. “Elder Caci, it appears that there is a corpse polluting the land nearby. When can that be expected to be remediated?”
Elder Caci looked as though they were about to protest but instead cleared her throat. “We will send a couple druids soon to correct this corruption. You will escort them with your warriors I hope?”
Ferron nodded and returned his attention to the boy in front of them. “Now, Darri, tell me about your group.”
“Of course. I’ll start with myself. In our village, I was a warrior that was in consideration to be the next chief. To my great shame, we were overrun by the sea raiders and I was tasked to flee with these children. Now, I’m mostly a laborer along with the younger children.” Darri turned to show Ferron the children behind him who now hid behind both Bassett and Maeve. “They have yet to reach their Bloodstone Ceremony so I am unsure of their abilities. Though, I promise you, I’ve been working hard to instill a good work ethic in them so they will be valuable everywhere.”
Valentin nodded in approval as an audience of one, he could feel Morna looking at him. Darri was starting to hit a confident stride now that he had stumbled through introductions. Nobody had yet jumped in on him.
“You’re favored then?” One of the village elders that Valentin could not see at his angle spoke up.
“A humble glow, Elder. Though I assure you, my stature more than makes up for any differences in power,” Darri seemed to puff out his chest to accentuate his size.
“So we have a worker who can defend himself and a handful of unknowns,” Ferron recapped seemingly to the old man that sat next to him. “Not terrible. Now, tell me about the other two. Are they not laborers like you?”
“Bassett does many assorted jobs for different groups around the village. He has done some work with your warriors as a scout. He was an excellent trapper in our village so I imagine that he has helped out in that way.”
“Is scouting his only talent? People are approaching him from all over the village so they can track down rabbits?”
Darri froze and lost all of his momentum. The nature of Bassett’s work was still undisclosed to him. He did not know what answer to provide. Sounds of words yet unspoken sprung from Darri’s mouth without comprehension before he retreated to silence.
The awkward silence earned a dismissal from Ferron. “I sincerely hope that you are speaking out of consideration instead of ignorance. A leader that is not aware of their follower’s abilities is an unfit leader. I have been informed of Bassett’s…” the lead warrior paused for a second, “talents. Now, what of the girl?”
Darri cleared his throat and gave Bassett a look of anger. “Maeve is gifted in the spiritual arts and has passed our Trial of the Sapling to become an initiate.”
“I see. What is your appraisal of the girl, Elder Caci?”
“That she isn’t good enough for Lutant’s ranks,” Caci immediately stated.
Ferron gave Darri an apologetic look. “That is a shame, druids are always people of value. Especially when well trained.”
Darri clenched his fists. He couldn’t tolerate anyone in his group being looked down upon, Maeve especially. He lowered his raised hackles and spoke with a surprisingly even tone. “With due respect, Elder Caci has been giving Maeve trials more fitting of a two-stripe due to her unwillingness to accept her as a druid.”
Ferron perked up at the accusation as though he had been waiting for such an entertaining rebuttal. Elder Caci was much less pleased with the condemnation of her character and had quickly risen from her cushion to confront the boy.
“Just accept the fact that the rat girl has no aptitude and quit wasting our time!”
“Girl,” Ferron spoke, ignoring the outburst from Elder Caci. “Are you able to read omens?”
To Maeve’s credit, she seemed to have completely ignored the insult. She nodded. “Omen readings are one of the first things I had been taught during my training in my home village.”
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“Really?” Ferron responded with an amused tone. “Would you please provide us with a presentation? Someone, fetch us some chicken bones or blood; whatever is on hand.”
At every turn, Ferron had dominated the conversation. Now, a handful of people scrambled around the longhouse looking for some items to provide for an omen reading. Maeve sat across from Ferron in the center of the semicircle.
After a few moments, Maeve was provided with the material that she needed to begin a reading. She laid out the items before her and carefully counted everything before she looked up at the expectant Ferron and nodded that she was ready.
“Is there a specific reading that you wish to do?” Maeve asked Ferron.
Ferron placed his hand to chin and thoughtfully scratched the skin beneath his beard. “Give me my omens for the immediate future. That should be relatively straightforward.”
Maeve collected the animal parts in her hands and began a low voiced incantation. She lifted the parts over her head and rattled them around.
A curious hush overcame the longhouse which allowed some of the girl’s chants to reach the ears of the spectators but not much. Valentin could not hear the words or see the final arrangement of the omen so he waited expectantly for the results.
The hands swung forward and the pieces spread around between Maeve and Ferron. Her hand waved over the arrangement and continued the incantation. There were murmurs from some of the nearer groups but they did not even reach Valentin’s relatively nearby position.
“So, what does it say?” Ferron inquired jovially.
Maeve focused intently on the arrangement of the omens. She spoke to nobody in particular. “Going by the orientation of the beak relative to the foot… Hmmmm, and these feathers… And if we take the spirit’s whispers into account then I think I have it,” Maeve finally announced. “All these point towards an encounter of good fortune.”
“Of course it would-” Elder Caci interjected but was immediately cut off by Ferron.
“Elder Caci, why do you find a need to constantly interrupt?” He leaned back slightly and pondered the reading. “An auspicious meeting. Tell me, are you my encounter of good fortune?”
Maeve looked back down at the arrangement. The room was now fully silent to hear the verdict come from the girl. “I am not,” she announced confidently to the confusion of everyone present. “See these bones here? They are arranged in a way that signifies mystery. You do not yet know the person that you are meant to meet.”
A raucous laugh echoed throughout the longhouse. Ferron’s head was tilted back and the crashing sounds of his joy reverberated throughout the hall. “Her future rests on my evaluation of her and she tells me that she’s not the person that will bring me good fortune.” He wiped the tears from his eyes and looked at Darri. “I will not give you my answer now, but just know that this has impressed me immensely.”
“Thank you, War Leader Ferron,” Darri once again bowed deeply and herded them away from the center of attention.
“You know,” Ferron started, ensuring that the room would not yet return to their own individual groups. “There was one more meeting that I was supposed to have today. Morna!”
The woman immediately stood up and all eyes turned to her. Valentin also started to rise but a hand held him down. He looked up to see the woman staring down at him. Her eyes were solemn while she offered another smile.
“Morna, come here. I have become intrigued by that girl’s reading and I cannot wait for our arranged time. You would forgive my impatience, wouldn’t you?” Ferron asked with words that bordered on threat.
“It would be my pleasure,” Morna replied happily, her hand still on Valentin.
If Morna had a plan to disrupt Valentin’s later meeting with Ferron, the reading had completely ruined it. She would have to let him up soon before the warlord got impatient. He again endeavored to rise to his feet but was held down again.
“Let me up, Morna. Don’t break your promise,” Valentin hissed.
“If it’s your pleasure, then why are you just standing there?” Ferron asked coolly.
The hand squeezed harder and Valentin was dragged to his feet. Morna still looked at him with sad eyes before taking his hand and leading him to the semicircle. Muffled conversations and looks honed in on the pair and made Valentin feel scrutinized.
Now that Valentin stood in the center of the semicircle, he could fully appraise the man that was Ferron Martelle. He had strong, angular features. Gold tinged eyes that never seemed to stop observing sat within deep sockets. His gray speckled beard was braided through gold rings and his ears were studded with large jewels. His cloak, jacket, breeches, and even his boots were a dark black with golden trim. He sat with one arm on his upturned leg with the other stretched out towards the pair, a noble pose.
“Morna, who is this guest that you bring with you?” Ferron’s eyes sparkled at potentially good fortune.
“Ferron, this is-”
Ferron held up his hand to stop her. “I apologize for interrupting you, Morna, but I have thought of a more entertaining way to meet this boy.” He turned to the warrior that had whispered to him earlier. “Bring me Jaela Volo.”
Valentin could feel Morna’s hand clamp down harder on his hand as a warrior departed from the group and towards a room in the recesses of the longhouse. The atmosphere within the room changed drastically from curiosity to unsettled. Incredulous whispers rolled through the longhouse. The village elders shifted uncomfortably on their cushions.
“Is it really necessary to bring her out here?” Chief Glenna asked with an annoyed voice. “I’ve been humoring your bad mood all night, Ferron. Isn’t this good enough?”
Ferron glanced over at the chief, the entertainment briefly leaving his face. “It isn’t necessary, but I’m going to do it anyway. Keep your superstitions to yourself.”
Fabric fire erupted into the longhouse behind the returning warrior and all heads turned in the direction of the approaching witch. An ember with a sword at his hip followed her into the room. A wave of fear passed through the longhouse. A pressuring, overbearing fear of the unknown gripped Valentin. What was Ferron planning on doing? What would the witch do to him? What would Morna do if Valentin came to harm?
Jaela Volo stood beside Ferron, her cloth brushing up against his side. Distance had done a disservice to Valentin’s initial impression of the colors of the witch. Red, yellows, and oranges danced fire across the cloth, however, there were a bevy of shades of all the colors with smatterings of purples and blues and blacks. All were clasped together with pins of gold and silver and buttons of obsidian.
“You have summoned me, Ferron?” Jaela Volo spoke the Strettian language with an accent Valentin had never heard before.
“Good evening, Jaela. My omens were read and they said that I had good fortune in my future. I’d like you to do a reading on this boy and my shared future,” Ferron explained and offered the woman a smile, the only person in the room willing to. “I thought it would be a more entertaining experience for all of us.”
“You wish to employ Killik’s eyes for amusement?” Jaela Volo asked in a matter of fact voice. “You know that I cannot perform such acts often, would it be wise to use one so frivolously?”
“Dear Prophetess, there is no better time than now,” Ferron replied with supreme confidence.
“Then let us begin.”
Jaela moved to a spot in between Ferron and Valentin and sat down. She motioned to Valentin to sit as well. When he lowered himself to the ground, Morna did not let go of his hand. He sat with one arm locked above his head. For a moment, he thought that the witch had smiled at him but when he looked again her face was expressionless.
The man in red that had been standing next to the witch procured a large wooden bowl from a bag on his back. He placed it down in the center of the trio. From the inferno of cloth, a slender arm was provided to the crimson man.
A flash of metal bolted from the witch’s guard’s coat. A slender dagger engraved in runes appeared in his hands. The hilt dusted in gold and embossed in jewels. The ceremonial blade exchanged hands and the man backed away from the group. Jaela hovered the blade above her exposed skin and spoke unintelligibly under her breath.
A long slice along her arm beaded with blood before the volume of the droplets got too great and trickles streamed across her skin and towards the bowl that sat below. She clenched her fist and blood poured rapidly out of her wound and filled the container. Splashes of crimson accumulated rapidly until a small pool of liquid formed within the bowl. She loosened her hand and it was immediately wrapped in cloth by the crimson man.
Jaela wiped the blade off and reached for Ferron. The man offered her his hand without much fuss. The narrow blade picked his finger and a couple drops entered the bowl. She reached for Valentin’s hand to do the same. Not wishing to look weak in front of Ferron, he offered his hand out as well. He felt a small prick in his finger and he held his hand over the bowl allowing a few droplets of his own blood to collect inside the pool.
An intonation in another language spewed from Jaela's mouth. The witch’s head tilted back and incomprehensible words erupted into the room. Valentin saw Ferron take a sip of his drink, unperturbed by the display occurring right next to him. The boy swallowed his anxiety and attempted to look calm as well, mirroring the man he was attempting to impress. Unfortunately, there was no reading Ferron’s face for a sign of approval.
A sudden jolt of the witch lurching forwards startled the boy and broke the facade he had been trying to maintain. Jaela’s eyes were now a milky white color as she hovered her hands over the bowl and spoke softly. As she watched the ripples of the blood pool, Valentin could have sworn he saw the faintest colors cross over her eyes before disappearing entirely.
Jaela clenched her eyes shut and gasped, now suddenly breathing heavily. The crimson man reacted quickly to assist but was quickly waved away. Ferron waited quietly while the woman drew shuddering breaths. Valentin could see that natural color had returned to her irises between the fluttering of eyelids.
“It is done,” Jaela announced.
“What did you see?” Ferron leaned in excitedly.
“Ravens swarm a powerfully built castle that I’ve never laid eyes on before. Deep scars mar the earth surrounding the walls and smoke billows from countless fires both inside and out. Blood pours from the castle’s parapets onto the streets that they tower over. It suffocates and drowns all that stand too close to it.” Jaela claimed, adding visual flourishes with her hands to illustrate the words of the vision.
“Iron doors are ripped from their massive frames and litter an audience chamber of obsidian and ochre. The interior of the building is in a sad shape. The walls are coated in ash. The carpets are scorched and torn. The throne is in a similarly pathetic state with cushions ripped and all the jewels and niceties wrenched from them. Upon the throne rests a raven perched on a broken hammer. Someone with wings of pure crackling light stands on the threshold of the ruined room as countless birds fly inside.”
“And that person is,” Jaela Volo began, raising her arm slowly to deliver the accusation, “you.”
A rapid change of energy passed through the longhouse. Morna’s grip on Valentin’s hand loosened greatly and the boy’s arm fell to his lap. Murmurs, especially from the warriors of the Armée ricocheted through the air and the villagers sat with a confused unease.
However, there was no greater change in mood than in the man that sat across from Valentin. His stoic face was now quivering between rapid arrays of emotions as though the man himself was uncertain how he felt. One thing was certain, the gold tinged eyes were trying to penetrate Valentin's soul and judge its value.
“I’m calling a meeting in my quarters!” Ferron shouted loud enough for all to hear. “The Deggans and Vice Deggans must be present. Jaela Volo, you must be present as well.”
Ferron Martelle stood up and faced towards his lodging. He addressed the woman warrior who had brought Valentin to him. “Vice Deggan Morna, bring that boy with you.”
Reluctantly, Morna reached for Valentin’s hand again and helped the boy up. He was silently led by the woman through the crowd of the longhouse and towards the room in the far back. He felt the eyes of all turn to burn a hole in his back. The disjointed sentences towards him made him nervous.
As Morna brought Valentin through the doorway and into Ferron’s quarters, he still hadn’t fully wrapped his mind around the fortune. Was it even a good one?