An invisible cloud hung over region around Verbosc; casting a heavy shadow on all those that lived beneath it. There were few travelers for this time of season and there were long stretches of road where the traveling warriors were alone in their journey. Those that they did see regarded the group with healthy amounts of fear and deference. They would stop and provide the group with a wide berth before continuing on their way. They clutched onto their belongings and each other as though they would be suddenly seized by the warriors.
Those that noticed Valentin’s regalia would react differently. Some would bow reverently towards the elk of Guerros and offer meek greetings towards him. Others would glare at him with an indescribably deep hatred that left Valentin feeling confused and slightly unsettled.
Valentin was visibly displeased at how correct Cuinn’s repeated teachings had proven to be. His face was contorted into an annoyed frown at the thought of meeting the conflict obsessed scholar. He could already hear the self-assured man’s diatribe over the recent days of conflict within the crowded streets of the city.
“I think that settles the rumors,” Renne commented after a young peasant spat in the ground as they passed by. “Tiarna Wandrille Bellafon is dead.”
“If only he could have endured for one more cycle,” Valentin replied to himself.
Renne provided Valentin with a quizzical look but Valentin brushed it to the side. This conflict made this region less secure for their seasons of inactivity. Everything was coming together in a methodical yet certain way. However, news may push Ferron’s hand earlier than they were prepared for.
A panicked shout from behind him gripped his attention. The peasant that just spat in the direction of his young warriors, Kerwin, had a spear pointed at his face. His relatives stepped further away from the road and made themselves small to avoid being dragged into the altercation. Only an aged woman tried to step between the tip of the spear and the peasant. She bravely faced the weapon down and spread her arms wide.
“Move, old woman,” Kerwin barked. “It’s the one behind you that I take issue with.”
“Forgive my son for his foolishness,” the woman requested. Her face was placid in the face of the weapon.
“Kerwin, what are you doing?” Renne asked the warrior.
“That bastard spat at me and I intend to teach him a lesson,” Kerwin replied through gritted teeth. “Move out of the way so that I can deliver punishment.”
“You’re all traitors, dogs of Guerros!” The peasant yelled.
“That does it!” Kerwin shouted. He pulled his spear back to strike. “If you don’t move, I’ll kill you both!”
“No! Wait!” The mother pleaded. “He doesn’t understand what he’s saying.”
“Silence” Valentin ordered with an empowered voice, taking command of the situation. “I was willing to overlook the disrespectful act as it was directed at me alone. Besides, I am in a hurry and cannot stop for every dog that barks at me. However, you failed to apologize and instead grew your mistake. Do you understand that there is a consequence to all things?”
“Please, Master Guerros,” the mother repeated.
“Kerwin,” Valentin addressed the warrior who snapped to attention. “Strike him twice with the opposite side of your spear. Allow the pain to serve as a lesson.”
“With pleasure,” Kerwin grinned.
The warrior hopped down from his mount. He turned his spear around so that the spear tip was pressed against his side, preventing any chance of being stabbed with his own teeth. He made a show to allow a spark or two to leave his fingertips.
“Am I permitted to use some additional force?” Kerwin inquired of his leader.
“Only as long as you don’t strike his head,” Valentin permitted. “This is a lesson, not an execution. Don’t drag it out either, as I said, I’m in a hurry.”
“Grit your teeth, I’ll correct your impudent behavior,” Kerwin instructed and took a practice swing with his spear. A terrifying swishing noise emanated from the spear. “Next time you see me, you will avert your eyes and bow.”
The peasant put on a brave face, but Valentin could see that they were shaking quite severely in the face of the oppressive Kerwin. Understanding appeared to arrive slowly to the peasant’s mind. If they feared violence, they should have held their tongue. There are people that need to learn their lessons the difficult way for the teaching to be properly retained.
“Master Guerros, please reconsider-“
“I will not hear another word from you,” Valentin snapped, silencing the peasant’s mother. “I am doing your son a kindness. Do you think the next person who he spits at and calls a dog will be so lenient? If you understand the value of my actions, then step aside. Otherwise, I may be led to believe that such obstinate behavior runs in your family. I will teach everyone a lesson if need be, I have more than enough spears.”
The mother observed her foolish child with sad eyes before stepping to the side and leaving him to the mercy of Kerwin’s strikes. The peasant’s eyes widened in surprise that his mother had abandoned him. Valentin hoped that the young man had not expected his mother to be beaten in his stead.
“Make sure to stay perfectly still.” Kerwin instructed his victim. He placed the dull end of his spear against the peasant’s ribs. “Don’t worry, I won’t cripple you.”
Kerwin wound his arm back. The peasant put his arms behind his back to avoid the limbs being snapped by the attack. The warrior swung forward with a vicious attack that was infused with mild favor. The attack collided with the peasant’s chest with an audible crack that left the man wobbling.
To the peasant’s credit, he did not collapse when Kerwin’s powerful strike collided with his chest. He did flinch and cry out in pain, but that was understandable. His mother reached out sympathetically but did not interfere.
Kerwin did not wait long and smacked the peasant on the other side of his body. While the warrior swung with much less vigor than the first swing, the pain that came from the combined injuries brought him to his knees. His eyes watered and his breath was haggard as he clutched to his sides.
Now that the punishment was over, his mother rushed to his side. Whatever it was they said to each other, Valentin did not hear it. He had already turned away impassively and continued his ride towards Verbosc.
“How harsh,” Renne remarked in a joking voice once they had gotten further away from the scene.
“I was going to let it go when it was only about me,” Valentin answered truthfully. “However, he mindlessly insulted the warriors. How long do you think those people had left to live if I did not step in when I did? Would our warrior’s wounded pride be healed by any less of a punishment than that beating? He needed to learn his place in the world. You can only spit when you are strong enough to handle the consequences.”
“Hard to argue with all that,” Renne conceded with a thoughtful expression. “I wouldn’t have minded giving that impudent brat a welt myself. Besides, you have to throw a bone once in a while to keep those rowdy unblemished swords in check.”
In order to provide Valentin with a perfectly loyal deg, Ferron assigned him with mostly new recruits to the warband. While it meant that there was a higher amount of loyalty with a similar level of talent, the deg often lacked experience, cohesion, and, most importantly, maturity. The last mission had gone well in terms of following tactics, however, Valentin could clearly remember issues with stances and spacing that would need to be corrected further.
As a result of Kerwin’s lesson, there were no further altercations during the remainder of the journey. A menacing aura covered the warriors behind Valentin, almost begging for someone to disrespect them so they could administer their own beatings.
From where Valentin sat, there was little difference in the appearance of Verbosc. He had feared that there would be damage and fire but there were no indications of the conflict within. The only true indicator was that all the swans on cyan banners of the Bellafon clan had been removed from the northern walls of the Aranelle quarter and replaced with only the elk on green.
Instead of directly entering the gates of the city, Valentin instead led his warriors to the Thuad River Bridge Fort. The normally open gates of the fort were slammed shut, leaving a small crowd of people on the outside of the gates clamoring to be let in. Whether it was to transport goods, travel to a temple, or just return home, there were a multitude of people across different social classes receiving the same treatment of ignorance.
“Make way!” Renne called to the gathered crowd, parting them to allow the mounted warriors through.
The new shouts brought the attention of the gate guards. They peered at the newcomers through the gate and from the top of the wall.
“Valentin Guerros demands entrance into the fort!” Valentin called out, raising the elk emblem of Guerros that his Aunt Yvonne provided him.
“Young Master Valentin, I am Cantan of the Gate, Sylvan!” A man dressed in a similar green called to Valentin from atop the gate. “The Matriarch is holding a clan meeting and, now that you are here, you must attend. Until that meeting is over, we have not been permitted to allow anyone in.”
“Then where will the warriors rest if not for the barracks?” Valentin replied, already weary from the prospects of such a large meeting.
“Apologies, Young Master, you cannot overrule the Matriarch’s decision.”
Valentin sighed. He turned to the narrowed eyes of the warriors behind him. The faces of the crowd that believed, for a moment, that they may be allowed in returned to frustration and despair.
“You will enjoy the main estate more anyways.” Valentin commented. “But you all must be on your best behavior.”
“Yes Deggan Valentin,” they responded in near unison.
Valentin turned Vescal around and led his deg towards the north gate of Verbosc. Here, he met no resistance from his clan’s gatekeepers and was given entry immediately. Valentin offered a nod of appreciation for the quick process.
The deg passed through peaceful streets. Nothing seemed physically out of place. There was no visible damage to the buildings, the peasants seemed in good health, and the warriors that patrolled the streets seemed to be in good spirits. Yet, despite all the indicators that things were well, that shadow that Valentin felt was more intense here. It caused a fluttering in one’s heart akin to the apprehensive silence before a battle would start.
Valentin quickly reached one of the entrances to the estate. Fortunately, these guards appeared more attentive and immediately recognized Valentin’s heraldry. However, they did not immediately open the gates for him.
“Welcome, Young Master Guerros,” one of the guards greeted. “You are to attend the gathering in the great hall. However, you must find someplace else for your warriors until the meeting is completed.”
“Why is that?” Valentin asked coldly. “They were already denied entrance to the fort’s barracks because of my aunt’s orders. Now I must be turned away from my own home?”
“Apologies if you are offended, Young Master. The Matriarch doesn’t want any warriors not pledged to Guerros within the estate during the meeting," the guard nervously explained.
“I will go in and speak to Aunt Yvonne directly on this matter,” Valentin announced before turning to the warriors behind him. “Wait here, I will have this issue resolved quickly.”
Valentin followed the warrior onto the estate grounds. It was still too early in the cycle for any of the flowers to have bloomed. Short green sprouts jutted out of the soil, promising a wider array of color in the future. Outside of a handful of servants tending to the appearance of the estate and patrolling warriors, it appeared that most everyone else had moved into the great hall for the meeting.
They walked through the large oaken door, past all of the statues, and up to the doors to the great hall. Two guards stood on either side of the doors with a servant with a scroll that appeared to be taking attendance. They looked at Valentin expectantly.
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Valentin could hear the sounds of the arguments from outside the room. He made a sour face at the prospects of entering such a heated room. It would, without a doubt, be an overly long and draining meeting that Valentin had no interest in participating in. Unfortunately, he had already made his presence known and could not hide further.
“Please announce that Valentin Guerros has arrived,” Valentin requested.
The servant nodded to the guards. The doors of the great hall swung open, allowing for the raucous noises of the conversation to batter Valentin. Fortunately, the sound of the doors swinging open terminated all discussions for a moment. A silence created by curiosity took its place. Valentin occupied the center of the attention with the servant to his right.
Blazing candles placed upon tables several paces apart illuminated the room, bathing the faces of the occupants in uneven light. Members of each branch of the Guerros clan and their client clans gathered around their respective fires and conferred with each other. Papers and maps and quills scattered the tables haphazardly around mostly eaten chicken carcasses and partially empty mugs of drink.
“Announcing the arrival of Young Master Valentin Guerros!”
Valentin look long, confident strides in the room. The gait and posture that he had practiced all these cycles now felt natural to him. It was but a memory to those that had seen the reserved boy try to fold himself further into invisibility. He felt the expectant eyes of the gathered clansmen and allies follow Valentin up to the front of the hall where his Aunt Yvonne was sitting on her raised platform.
“I greet the Matriarch,” Valentin said with a small bow.
“Hello, my dear nephew,” Aunt Yvonne replied. “How have you been? How was your mission?”
“My task was completed flawlessly,” Valentin reported plainly and without hope of further elaboration. “However, Aunt Yvonne, I must admit that have not been in Verbosc for an hour and your orders have already created some difficulties for me.”
A murmur fell upon the gathering over Valentin’s glib statement. However, the Matriarch’s smile informed them that her favor lied with her nephew. Those who had aspirations to take her place looked upon the scene jealously. Valentin could feel the scheming eyes regard him as a rival, even though it had been made clear he was not in consideration for such a position.
“How so?”
“I was hoping to employ the barracks to allow my warriors to rest, but I was turned away by the guards on your orders,” Valentin explained with an understanding tone. “Then, I wished for them to use a room on the estate and I was turned away again on your orders. If I cannot convince you to allow them to stay here, then I must excuse myself to find them a suitable location to rest.”
“I sympathize with your plight, Valentin,” Yvonne replied apologetically. “However, I made an order that no warriors that are not sworn to me are to be allowed within the estate. I cannot make any exceptions.”
“So you wish for me to unleash my warriors upon a city in chaos without any information on what is safe or not?” Valentin questioned. “Your order was easy for your other guests to obey as they have estates to leave them. Those I have serving me are new, many do not have roots or land to rely on. I request again that you either allow them a corner of the estate to rest on or to permit the fort to open its doors to allow them in.”
His aunt looked at him thoughtfully before observing the crowd. She carefully mulled the options that were laid before her. Valentin understood that he had put his aunt in a difficult position, but he also could not afford to look weak in front of those that served under him.
“I understand your position,” Aunt Yvonne finally replied. She motioned towards the guard that escorted him in.
“Send word to the fort to open their gates to allow these warriors in. Provide them a few bottles of wine in consideration of their patience.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the guard acknowledged with a bow.
“Is that satisfactory?” The Matriarch Guerros looked a Valentin with authoritative eyes. She would not be questioned again.
“I am appreciative of your wisdom, Aunt Yvonne,” Valentin confirmed with another small bow of appreciation. Such a conclusion would cause him no issues of his authority when he returned to his deg.
“Good,” she replied with a kind smile. “Please take a seat up front. You are not only a cherished nephew, you are also here as a proxy for Ferron Martelle. On your seat will be a letter from him addressed to you. I assume it will be his position on the matter as he could not make it here himself.”
Valentin quickly found the lone open seat towards the front of the crowd at Craine’s branch of the clan. Sitting gently atop the cushion was a tightly rolled scroll of parchment with a wax seal bearing a raven. He quickly unrolled the document to learn of its contents.
He felt the expectant gazes of the clansmen as he pored over the document. Knowing his clan, they had been chasing their tales while waiting for his arrival. He was certain that if he had been delayed much longer then they would have unsealed the letter themselves.
However, what he found within the letter was not Ferron’s handwriting, but Julianna Marche’s. Only the signature at the bottom belonged to Ferron himself. Either he left the planning towards the strategist that he so painstakingly recruited to his cause, or he was not available to deliver orders himself.
His eyes had only moved from the scroll for a moment before the questions descended upon him like the flow of a river.
“What is Ferron Martelle’s position on the war in Verbosc?”
His ever impatient Uncle Craine asked the question first. The angular faced man leaned towards Valentin to see if he could catch a glimpse at the words in order to circumvent the questioning entirely.
Valentin moved the scroll out of view on the off chance his uncle knew Ferron’s penmanship. He stood from his seat and turned so he could look upon the majority of the room. It was full of people that Valentin had seen regularly and people that he had never seen at all. They were dragged from the four corners of the region to support Guerros. These people were promised the world by Ferron Martelle and risked the future of their descendants upon the delivery of that promise.
“Ferron Martelle requires one cycle to gather the allies and resources he needs to declare his rebellion,” Valentin announced, summarizing the message. “He requests that you choose your attacks wisely and to prioritize defense. So long as you do that and do not greatly disrupt the stalemate, High Tiarna Poten Martelle will not act.”
Valentin’s report left some more satisfied than others. Alliances that were crafted long before Valentin arrived were conferring with each other over the new piece of advice.
“With that in mind,” Yvonne addressed the assembly at a loud volume to capture their attention. “I propose once again that we choose our targets with prudence. Our rapid expansion will only cause the other major clans to form a coalition against us to stem our power. So long as our advance is slow and stable, they will not rise against us as one.”
The groups once again turned to each other to discuss their new plans again. They gazed over their own personal documents and maps of the region, pointing out different and new information to review.
Valentin, factionless, simply watched and listened to the discordant conversations that drummed in his ears. He met eyes with his aunt who offered a thin smile in return. Whether she was showing affection or indicating that Ferron’s letter was favorable to her cause, Valentin could not say for certain. He smiled back in kind.
“If that is the case, then we should strike at the most critical target,” Tomas proposed from his section. “There is no more vital a battlefield than the one that is being waged at the docks. Supplies by river are the most reliable way of receiving goods from the south without it being seized by our enemies.”
“I must politely oppose your suggestion, Brother,” argued Ceres. The aunt that was once allied to Tomas in the war faction now became an opponent in strategy. “The docks are too large and unruly to successfully take and occupy. We would be wasting our precious manpower. It is better to use our port in Elswin across the Linnbeatha and caravan it over the bridge. I believe Allaine’s clan has the vessels necessary to guard these shipments.”
The thinner man beside Yvonne nodded in confirmation.
“Where do you believe we should point our spears at, Ceres?” Tomas questioned curiously, surprised that his suggestion wasn’t welcomed unanimously.
“We should set our sights on the workshops on Hammers Road,” Ceres replied confidently. “Control over the forges will make it difficult for the other clans to build and repair their equipment and force them to ship it to Mindorre.”
“Apologies, my beloved sister, but I do not think that your plan will work either,” the portly Gerrard spoke up. “Many of the workshops fall under the protection of the Bronte clan. Antagonizing them would undo many negotiations for non-aggression and only put a bitter rival on our doorstep.”
Ceres made a pensive face while more chattering picked up. Some attendants crossed out sections of pages they were working on and began to investigate the maps once again.
“I agree with Gerrard,” Aunt Marjorie spoke up. The soft spoken woman was the leader of the peace faction when Valentin first arrived. “I believe that we need to understand our relationships before we do anything that cannot be mended. Our power as the Marshal is understood and feared by our enemies, to show force now earns us nothing but resentment.”
“Instead of attacking something to occupy it, perhaps we should attack to destroy something valuable to our enemies,” suggested a different uncle near Tomas that Valentin could not recall the name of.
“Siblings,” Yvonne raised her hand, bringing quiet to the room. “You all offer valuable opinions and insights to strengthen our clan. However, I am curious as to the opinion of our newest arrival.”
Eyes once again turned to Valentin. While he understood his aunt’s intent, he still disliked involving himself in matters to this degree. He took a breath. Pausing to speak is better than immediately stammering out an answer. He rolled up his scroll and adjusted his cushion to purchase a few more precious seconds.
“The scroll does not offer further insight,” Valentin calmly replied.
“I did not ask for the opinion of Ferron Martelle,” his aunt corrected. “I am asking for your own opinion on the crossroads our clan finds itself.”
“Mine?” Valentin asked only to see his aunt nod in affirmation.
“Very well,” he said, adjusting his seat once more. “I lack the same insights as my esteemed aunts and uncles over what location best secures our clans supplies or benefits our finances or dissuades our enemies from striking us. To me, I can only say whether I believe the Guerros clan should attack or not.”
“Then shall we attack or not?” Ceres asked impatiently, disinterested in Valentin’s preamble.
“I believe that the Guerros clan should not attack,” Valentin stated confidently.
While his Aunt Marjorie and all those affiliated with her seemed very pleased with Valentin’s answer, the rest of the assembly sat in confusion. It must have seemed strange to them that the young warrior would advocate for a peaceful position.
“Explain your reasoning,” his Uncle Tomas demanded. “How does forfeiting the initiative benefit us?”
“From my perspective, the position held by everyone in the city is that the Guerros clan holds the upper hand in the quality and quantity of their warriors,” Valentin reasoned with the hall without push back. “If the Guerros clan singled out another clan to conquer, it would be easily won. In that case, the other clans will be most fearful of our movements. Taking important strategic positions within the city will only give motivation to the other clans to band together to eliminate Guerros first and fight it out amongst themselves. We would suffer a similar fate as the ruined Talenos clan.”
“Yet did the first Callarm Rilleon not defeat a superior enemy by taking advantage of their leader’s passivity?” Uncle Craine asked with an almost playful tone.
“Of those two stories, which does the clan believe we face?” Yvonne inquired.
A murmur washed over the hall once again as the assembly considered the words. Historically, Valentin imagined that the previous generations of Guerros leaders would have developed a strong plan immediately. The only reason he possessed a valid voice at all at his age was that the clan’s callouses once formed by spear and sword were now made by the ropes of merchant ships. He was amongst those with the most wisdom in these affairs; a concerning prospect.
“I believe that we face what the Talenos clan failed to overcome,” Gerrard announced. Many expressed their agreement.
“I share your sentiment,” Yvonne nodded. “Our objective is maintaining our position for a cycle. It would be best to fully understand the motivations and temperaments of our fellow clans. Words spoken before Tiarna Bellafon’s death may no longer be true.”
“Aunt Yvonne, what clan currently owns the docks?” Valentin asked.
“Nobody rules the old city of Verbosc so all of the major clans have been watching it closely,” the Matriarch reported.
“In that case, it may be enough to send someone to talk to them. If they agree to safeguard shipments to the Aranelle Quarter, then you may not need to take the docks,” Valentin explained. He was displeased to use knowledge given to him by Cuinn, however, he wished to thwart the scholar’s desires by using his teachings to prevent bloodshed.
“I will consider your suggestion seriously,” Yvonne announced.
Her attitude seemed to shift further to the more authoritarian countenance of the Matriarch. The hall knew that a final verdict would be fast approaching.
“I only worry that a complete lack of aggression will make us look overly vulnerable,” Ceres muttered. “I believe we still need to show our teeth are sharp.”
The comment carried much agreement from the other clansmen, especially those of the war party who seemed overly eager to fight. Even Yvonne seemed partially displeased with the strictly passive approach that she had agreed to.
Valentin could not help but wonder what sort of suggestion Ferron or Julianna would have made. Would they have been more considerate towards the Guerros clan’s violent roots? Was there a perfect target that Valentin was unaware of? Perhaps, as unlikely as it seemed to him, he had already perfected the strategy. One final question struck his mind.
“Does the target need to be within the city?” Valentin asked.
“Please speak your mind without the leading questions,” the Matriarch requested.
“There are numerous servant clans and businesses that exist beyond the walls of Verbosc. I know that many of you possess such locations. If you cannot strike a target within the city, perhaps a strong message can be sent through a raid outside,” Valentin explained.
Another round of discussions exploded as more options were made available. Those who possessed maps of the regions bordering Linnbeatha Lake pored over them greedily. The overwhelming benefit of the River Fort made attacks across the lake feel like unguarded fruit baskets for a starving animal.
“What is the desire of the clan?” Yvonne asked the assembly.
“Raid the lake!” Tomas answered to much agreement.
“Raid the lake!” Ceres shouted in agreement.
“Very well,” Yvonne replied. “We will reconvene tomorrow to determine where we will strike first and where we should arrange our defensive forces. If we can do it to them, they can do it back to us.”
Idle chatter sprang up now that the Matriarch’s dismissal was all that was required to end the meeting. However, the clan leader’s attention was focused again on her nephew.
“Was there anything else in the letter?” Yvonne inquired.
“That was everything that he stated that addressed his opinions on the general strategy.” Valentin confirmed. “However, there was a section specifically for me. The only thing that you need to know is that I will be departing in twenty days. He says that if there is a task that I can help you accomplish before my departure, you are permitted to use my deg; provided there is appropriate compensation.”
Yvonne grinned greedily in a way that showed her intentions with great clarity.
“That is wonderful news,” she purred.
Yvonne rose from her seat and moved towards Valentin. She stood over the boy and motioned for him to get up.
“Follow me, there is a place that I would like to show you and someone that I would like you to meet,” Yvonne ordered.
“You’re going to show him the shrine?” Craine asked his sister.
The question interrupted the surrounding conversations which rippled to affect the entire room. Valentin looked around suspiciously, unsure what his aunt’s intentions were. Despite his efforts, he still grew weary of such situations quickly and just wanted to retire to his room for the rest of the day.
“Are there any objections to this decision?” she challenged.
There were no detractors to Yvonne’s decision. While many looked irked by the decision, an inexplicable look of shame was mixed in the expressions of many of the aunts and uncles. Even some cousins had downcast eyes over the question.
“You’re all dismissed for the day,” Yvonne announced before turning to Valentin. “Let’s get going.”