When the expedition finally left the forest, the change of the surroundings was dazing. Odwitchni was the nature untouched by man’s hand, wild and unbending. Here before their eyes lied the nature tamed. Fields of wheat stretched as far as the eye could see. Among them were occasional pastures where cattle was grazing. Log houses stood here and there. Tiny silhouettes of men were visible in the distance, all occupied with various kinds of rural works.
Far ahead, in the middle of all this, could be seen a city behind massive wooden walls. This enclave of civilization was spread upon the glade, the forest was visibly encircling it to the right and to the left. Trees at the opposite edge were so far away, that the horizon swallowed them out of view. Kinani expedition searched for a road that will lead them to the city, not wanting to traverse through farming grounds. They found a dirt track half a league to the west.
The procession passed several wooden posts with similar inscriptions upon them.
“What are these saying?” heard Ymdaton a question from Lulaton, who was walking few steps ahead.
“Lake Road,” answered Blagoslav.
Crewslayer smiled. It was so close, yet forces of the forest hid it so well from them. He noticed that many locals were also heading for the town, on foot or riding upon wooden carts. However, everyone who noticed approaching warriors, turned to the sides and quickly headed into the fields, apparently to avoid meeting them. Further away he saw farmers hiding in their houses, closing doors and shutters.
“They do not look happy about our arrival,” said he.
“We did not arrive by the human road. They fear creatures that can casually walk out of forest. You should understand them, considering what we faced back there,” told him Abimnupal, who was marching nearby.
They reached the city gates in a hour and a half. Fortifications were built entirely out of logs, Ymdaton could not see a single stone. They were still impressive though, over twenty cubits high, with even taller towers. The portal was shut, there was no sign of men around, no one could be seen manning the walls either. There was pressure in the air, however, which told Ymdaton that defenders of the city were ready to repel the attack, even if they did not show themselves.
Their drevlyani guides, two civilians and four warriors, came forward and stood before the entrance. The messenger who did not speak kinani, yelled something. Everyone waited for a response. The wind blew, wheat at the fields rustled, armour clanked as men idly shifted postures. Nothing else happened.
After a long wait, Crewslayer heard galloping hooves. To the east, around the curve of the wall, appeared a group of mounted warriors. In few moments they reached kinani ranks and halted between them and the gates. Newcomers were clad in armour of similar design to that of their guides. There was a dozen of them total. Their mounts were of a kind that Crewslayer did not see before. Those were fluffy quadrupedal beasts with long necks which they kept straight upwards, small heads with prolonged snouts, short curved tails, ears bent forward, and eyes that gave them a facial expression between happiness and curiosity.
The apparent leader of the group said something to the guides loudly. He spoke in drevlyani language, so Ymdaton did not understood words, yet the tone was obviously stern and unfriendly. The messenger answered something with an upbeat intonation. The commander eyed kinani men with doubtful expression. He made a gesture with his hand and another one of his party rode forward.
“Do not be alarmed, do not do anything which could imply hostility. Militia want to test your good intentions,” told Blagoslav.
Crewmen murmured in annoyance. The mounted warrior stopped right before Azytenisar. Seeing him this close, Crewslayer noticed a housecat sitting in the saddle in front of the warrior. It was wholly black except for white spots at its nose, chest and tips of its paws. Militiaman grabbed the animal under its forepaws and reached forward. The feline hanging in man’s hand regarded lord of Abeneewy with a lazy look of its yellowish green eyes. Master of the house reached with his hand. The cat hit his fingers with its pad several times in a playful manner.
Azytenisar looked up in warrior’s eyes and smiled. Drevlyani rider put the cat back into the saddle and returned to his squad. Militia discussed something among them and then turned to the gates. Their leader cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a weird shout, something resembling a bird squeak. After few minutes the gates opened.
Local warriors entered the city, the expedition followed them. Militia guided them along the main unpaved street. Buildings there were made similarly out of logs. Those were houses not very different to the country ones behind the walls. But as the procession moved closer to the central parts, buildings became more diverse and massive. There were two and three storied residences, multiple blocks built wall-to wall or connected with passageways, fences hiding yards from unwanted eyes, facades adorned with painting or carved figures.
Most common among decorations were floral motifs and images of cats. The later were present in wide variety: from domestic mousers to lynxes, tigers, and some fantastic creatures obviously feline in nature. Citizens lined the streets, gazing at them, cheering, and pointing fingers.
Finally, travelers emerged at the huge square. There was a massive house almost fifteen cubits high with a pyramid-like roof on one side of it and the similar one on the other side. The second building was noticeable: it lacked the front wall entirely. Inside it was but an empty cube except for layer of hay that covered the floor. It was decorated more lavishly than any other house that Ymdaton have seen yet.
“What is that?” asked Abimnupal.
“Looks like some kind of an altar to me,” said Ymdaton.
His attention was drawn to even bigger crowd was waiting for them here. Group of men left the crowd and moved forward. Those were obviously the wealthiest, Crewslayer could guess by their clothes. Militia and guides bowed to them simultaneously. One of locals, an old man who wrapped himself in a fur coat as if he was standing in a piercing wind, spoke in his language.
Both messenger and leader of outriders answered in order. The elder turned to the crowd, proclaiming something in portentous manner and a surprisingly loud voice. The gathering exploded with cheers. Blagoslav approached the kinani expedition and made an announcement.
“Council and population of Khladnetz are most happy to welcome you. We understand, that you are tired of the journey. Capable families will provide lodging for every kinani man. Rest, replenish your powers. In three days there will be a meeting to crown our lord Azytenisar and discuss matters of the future.”
Ymdaton was expecting some barbaric customs from the land dwellers, yet his new lodging was a pretty civilized one, and the man of the house was hospitable. He, Abimnupal, and Hasdruhy were sheltered by some wealthy family, perhaps as a privilege of being Azytenisar’s most valuable warriors. The house consisted of four connected buildings, all two storeys high. It was clean and cozy inside: walls covered with polished wooden panels, floors layered with carpets. The house was filled with servants who were so disciplined that they shown little to no interest in foreign guest.
They were offered to use a bathhouse, washing away the dust of the journey. They were invited to eat at the same table as the master of the house and his family. They were given a personal bedroom for each man. Warriors took turns sleeping, so that one of them was always guarding the doors. That was, perhaps, an insulting display of distrust, yet to lower their guard in the alien place, even after such warm greeting, was against their nature.
Three days later crewmen arrived at the place of meeting, the immense house at the central square. Despite its height, the building did not have separate storeys. It was simply a large hall under the roof, three layers of small windows riddled the walls, providing decent illumination. Inside were already gathered council of Khladnetz, some militiamen, Blagoslav, Azytenisar with his court, and High Crew. Ymdaton and his comrades joined the ranks of fellow warriors.
“Already blending with population. Who could have known that there were skilled diplomats among us,” laughed Azandahy, who happened to stand nearby.
Indeed, the generous host also provided the three of them with fresh clothes to replace theirs that were dirty and damaged in journey. Now they were a comic display: traditional drevlyani pants and long-sleeved shirts of bright colours, fur-lined leather boots with pointy toes, and kinani armour upon all of this. Crewslayer did not expect himself to appreciate the pigeon-faced’s joke, yet he did genuinely chuckle.
There was a throne in the middle of the hall, set at the risen platform. There lord of Abeneewy sat. Old man in a fur coat whom Ymdaton remembered from the day of arrival walked to stand before it. He proclaimed something in a sing-song voice. Blagoslav, who stood at the side of kinani lord was about to open his mouth and translate, when Azytenisar answered himself. He spoke in drevlyani language without a single break. Dead silence fell, signaling the amazement of the crowd.
“Please translate our conversation from now on, so my men can understand us,” addressed he the translator, after finishing his speech.
“Head of the council of Khladnetz, elder Tridum said that we did not have knez ruling over us for centuries. We do not remember any particular ceremonies which are ought to be performed when one is crowned. So he just asked lord Azytenisar to swear that he would steer people of Khladnetz rightfully upon honour of him and his ancestor. Our master did so and added, that this is fine, because we can spend less time on needless formalities, and proceed to discussion of pressing matters,” announced Blagoslav after clearing his throat.
“But how is it possible. How does he know their language after mere three days,” whispered Ymdaton.
“You know little of our master. Three days? Our whole journey was much longer than that and he did not spend any time in vain,” gave a hushed answer Azandahy.
Azytenisar continued speaking, while Blagoslav was interpreting.
“I would like to hear a report about recent military engagements here from however is competent in the matter.”
A tall man with grizzled face and silvery short-cut hair stepped forth. He was wearing typical drevlyani armour which was decorated with golden trinkets here and there.
“My name is Likhobor, I am the elected commander of Khladnetz militia. Since the disappearance of our guardian we fended off eight attacks of the forest. In total we lost a quarter of militia force while fighting the forces of the woods. We also had three confrontations with neighbouring cities: Velmytop, Belosten and Ovrajin. One was lost due to our surrender, two others were decided by our defeat in a single combat.”
“May I?” a man who helped Ymdaton at the forest road battle, Sumiaton, left the crowd. Lord of Abeneewy nodded.
“Why did not you build walls?” addressed he drevlyani commander.
“Excuse me? Our city is circled with mighty fortifications which you should have clearly seen,” answered confused warrior. The dialogue proceeded with a slight delay, because both men waited, until Blagoslav translated the next line.
“No, not those,” Sumiaton gave a pretty cruel smile, “you could have built fortified gates at each road which approaches your domain. Add a moat, so it could not be walked around and you effectively stopped any invading force.”
“That would not stop the forest,” retorted Likhobor.
“No, but it would stop men. There is no other way to transfer troops other than by forest roads. You block them and it becomes impossible to attack you. As for now all your supplies of food lie outside of city walls. Any siege will instantly leave you cut off. No wonder that you lost all recent encounters.”
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“We do not wage wars as your kind does,” there was an anger written on commander’s face, “we do not shed blood of other men without care. It will only weaken both parties so that the forest may strike and consume warring factions. We drevlyani shun open conflict.”
“That is why you lost every conflict you got into, right?”
All the audience was now following the word duel with interest. Militiaman calmed down, breathed in heavily, and continued.
“Tell me then, o expert slayer of men. If you won a war, what would you do next? What will you do when malice of the forest comes for you in person and your ranks are dwindled?”
“In what form will it come for me? Because I burned one of those to death on the way here” kinani man looked mildly interested.
Likhobor made a grim face.
“It will be taller than trees, eclipsing sun, terrible to behold, its bulk enough to crash walls, its claws enough to slay companies, its very gaze deadly. I’ve heard that you have defeated a lower lord of the woods. He is nothing compared to the true horrors lurking there.”
“Have you ever defeated such a thing?” Sumiaton raised a brow.
“Our guardian did vanquish such creatures. Luckily we did not suffer attacks of that kind since he left us. We are probably done for, if it ever happens.”
The crewman opened his arms in an overly dramatic manner.
“Then you are in luck indeed. For my name is Sumiaton, Venator of Monsters. I slaughtered a spawn of Umrah with my own hands when I was young. Surely I am able to deal with your giants as well.”
“Wait, so he is that Sumiaton? The fabled monster slayer?” confusedly muttered Ymdaton.
“You didn’t know? Yes, he is the one whose statue is placed in the Abeneewy garden,” answered Abimnupal.
“I did not know that he still serves in High Crew after all those years.”
“He is a honorary member. An eel amongst sharks. Watch him show off his achievements just as a peacock shows off its tail,” shrugged Azandahy.
“That is enough bragging,” raised his voice Azytenisar, “Sumiaton sure did cross the line here, but try to perceive meaning of his words, not the form. He is not entirely wrong,” he switched to drevlyani again, “I have the one last question for you, elected commander Likhobor. What is the strength of militia right now?”
“About three thousand warriors,” answered the man. Kinani lord shook his head in disappointment.
“Now I wish to listen to your treasurer,” uttered he.
Another man from the gathering came forward. This one was stricken by age heavily: baggy eyes, slack eyelids, sunken cheeks, skin marked with dark spots, rich clothes hanging from his scrawny body. His gaze, however, was lively, shimmering with intelligence and cunning.
“I am Stezekhid, the treasurer,” introduced himself the old man, “the wealth of our city at the moment equals eleven sacks. It is enough for our most immediate needs. I, however, advise my lord to raise taxes as soon as possible. We will be expected to pay tributes in six months and this is the only way for us to have enough gold in time.”
“Eleven sacks equals one hundred and ten sursurs in kinani system of measurement,” added Blagoslav.
“Who are you paying tributes to?” asked Azytenisar with a frowning face.
“Belosten, Velmytop, Ovrajin,” answered the treasurer.
“You have been refusing to fight back against oppressors and, instead, paying them, so they will leave you alone for a time,” kinani lord stood up and glared at the audience, “you think that you have spared you powers by avoiding combat. In fact, you’ve just spent another resource. When the forest comes for Khladnetz, as you say, how will you pay for weapons, equipment, food? I am intending to put an end to…”
Azytenisar was interrupted by a loud drumbeat from the outside. Present drevlyani began murmuring uneasily. Before long, a warrior ran into the hall hastily, without even closing the doors behind him. He announced something with clearly alarmed voice. Murmurs became even louder, civilians showed signs of panic, militia grasped their weapons.
A shout from lord of Abeneewy made the crowd go silent. In a voice filled with authority he spoke to the gathering. Men calmed down, their faces becoming serious yet not unnerved anymore. They began leaving the building. Azytenisar then switched to kinani language, forestalling Blagoslav who was about to interpret.
“It appears that a force of armed men is approaching the city. High Crew, and every other crew will go out with me, to meet them. Except Symit, they will stay to watch over the town. We will show people of Khladnetz, how we deal with such problems.”
Not before long they marched out of the city’s south gates. Four crews in loose formation moved forth to face the invaders with Azytenisar fully armed and armored leading from the front. Many warriors of militia also joined them on the way. Ymdaton could see the enemy from here. Less than a thousand paces ahead a cavalcade riding the same beasts that he saw earlier. There was a lot of warriors, more than eight hundred at his rough estimate.
“Look at their banners,” said Blagoslav. He was visibly unhappy of being involved into this conflict, yet lord of Abeneewy insisted that the dragoman accompany them, “they are split horizontally, green above, dirty blue below. Those are banners of Velmytop, a city state to the south of here.”
It did not take much time, before two parties met. They halted, cavalry on one side, infantry on the other. A warrior in gilt helmet rode forward. He proclaimed something in obviously brazen tone. Head of the city council moved, placing himself between Azytenisar and the mounted man. Unlike the translator, this one came despite being asked to stay behind the walls. He insisted that he should represent the people here. His answer sounded calm and solemn. The rider opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Blagoslav, who interpreted the conversation for kinani. Armed man lifted his brow in annoyance.
“Zelobit, warlord of Velmytop demands that Khaldnetz pays a tribute of two sacks. His city met some unplanned expenses and is in need of gold right now. Elder Tridum objects, that we already did pay the tribute to Velmytop a month ago.”
“It does not matter,” said Zelobit, grasping a sword at his side, “We set the regulations for payment, we change them now. You agreed before, so you are ought to obey again.”
Azytenisar gently grabbed Tridum by the shoulders and moved him away. He faced the warlord.
“I am Azytenisar, knez of Khaldnetz since this very day. As its leader and protector, I refuse to satisfy your demands. Begone and never return with such intents.”
Instead of answering, Zelobit laughed loudly. He was not able to stop for several moments. When the warrior finally managed to calm down, he spat a reply reeking with contempt.
“Please, do translate,” kinani lord addressed Blagoslav, “I did understand much of this rant.”
“Well, how do I put it,” the translator was visibly embarrassed by this, “He calls you a cowering king of manprey, seemingly mocking your title. He also says that whatever kind of foreign mercenaries Khadnetz might have involved, it still won’t help.”
Azytenisar smiled viciously and spoke to the warlord.
“First of all, insult me again and I will put your head on a pike. You shall learn that we are no mercenaries. We came to guide and protect people of this city. I came to do so. And in doing so, one of my actions will be to end tributes once and for all. I repeat, go away before blood starts flowing.”
“And who exactly is going to shed blood here?” asked the warrior, leaning forward in the saddle, “You are outnumbere. If you try to fight us off, you will be decimated.”
“Perhaps,” said Azytenisar. He gave a command to prepare for fight in kinani, than proceeded with a conversation, while crewman drew their weapons and assumed battle stances, “yet we will not go down without fighting. My men are fiercer than you may expect. How many troops will you expend before winning there? Or, more importantly, how are you going to carry gold back to your town with battered force guarding it? You will provide a fine feast for the woods.”
The warlord looked troubled. He dragged the reins, so his mount backed away few steps.
“If you truly want to settle this by force, than I propose a single combat.”
“I agree,” said the kinani lord and asked his men, “Who is willing to fight and decide the winner of this battle?”
First to answer the call were Ymdaton and Abimnupal, raising their weapons almost simultaneously.
“Well then, I choose Abimnupal to be my champion,” said their master.
“But he is still recovering from the wounds that he suffered at the forest road,” objected Ymdaton. His comrade gave Crewslayer a disappointed look.
“Even few broken ribs are nothing to stop Abimnupal from crashing the foe. It appears, that I understand him better than you do.”
The chosen warrior moved forward to meet his opponent. From the ranks of invaders came an excessively massive figure. He was four and a half cubits high and accordingly broad in shoulders. His armour was painted bright blue, his immense shield displayed colours of Velmytop on it, his weapon was a spiked chain flail, his face was hidden behind a solid metal mask, instead of a traditional aventail. The mask was crafted in a liking of a visage: uncaring, merciless, intimidating. Opponents regarded each other. Abimnupal did not unsheathe his axe.
“Can someone please hand me a spear?” said he. A crewman from the front ranks threw him said weapon, the champion catched it. He nodded in gratitude, than turning to his enemy again.
“This is madness!” shouted Blagoslav, “Do you know who this man is? I heard the stories. A giant in the armour of a clear sky’s colour. The pulveriser, chosen champion of Velmytop. He is called Ratobor the Azure. He never lost a single combat in his entire life. Never! Do you understand?”
Abimnupal saluted and so did the opponent. He did not seem to pay attention to translator’s warning. Two warriors circled each other, waiting for opportunity to attack. Drevlyani champion charged first. He swung a fail, but missed, the blocked a counterattack with a shield. After another few exchanges of blows, Ratobor made an attack that almost hit Abimnupal in his right hand. Kinani warrior moved it away the last moment, still the flail scratched at his armguard and he lost balance. The foe used this opening, trying to smash his head with a horizontal blow. Crewman escaped only barely, making a step backwards. Ymdaton noticed a suppressed grimace of pain on friend’s face.
“I told you, he has not recovered! I should have fought instead!” said he to Azytenisar.
“Do not underestimate him. Watch,” answered the lord with an enigmatic smile.
Drevlyani warrior rotated his flail again, intending to strike. When he swung, Abimnupal thrust the spear under the chain. It coiled around the shaft and came backwards, following the momentum. The ball struck Ratobor in the fingers and he released the weapon with a scream of pain.
Before the enemy could recover from shock, kinani fighter made and upward swing with the spear. The flail that was still hanging on the shaft connected with opponent’s helmet, making a loud ringing noise. He instantly dropped dead. Abimnupal turned his back to the foe and returned to kinani ranks.
Forces of Velmytop looked agitated and shocked. Their leader dismounted and checked the body of his champion. He looked at Azytenisar with disbelief written upon his face.
“This man resolved many dozens of confrontations, fighting for our people. He never lost, never was close to defeat, never even was hard-pressed. Yet you command a warrior who easily cracked his skull with his own weapon,” he scanned kinani ranks, “You are a fearsome bunch. According to the custom, we lost here. We retreat. Our demands of tribute are ceased from now on.”
With those words he led forces of Velmytop away. These are the events that marked the first day of Azytenisar’s reign.