Quest Complete: Conquer Grensfield
Due to conquering the city by yourself Tier 3 Requirements have been met.
Rewards
+55,000xp.
+20 bonus points to all Stats.
The Renown Statistic has been created.
New Title: War Hero
New Special Ability Created: Terrifying Lv 1
Item Granted: Hero’s Armor
Level Up
Reward: 7 Stat Points
War Hero
All Stats permanently increased by 50 points.
Terrifying Lv 1
Any fear you intentionally generate in others is increased by 25%.
Hero’s Armor
When worn in combat allies will receive a bonus 25% to Physical Stats and a 30% bonus to morale.
Notice
Due to the previous generation of the Relations statistic a bonus has been received.
+1,000 Relation with Drygallis Empire.
They brought him into the back office of the city’s guild, appropriated for use by the two commanders of the army. Commander Dhatri stood across from him, idly leafing through paperwork that he wasn’t actually reading. The man was anxious to the point of being jittery, his eyes flicking toward any unexpected sound and seeming ready to jump through the office’s window at the first sign of trouble. One would think it unusual, considering the monumental victory of having just taken a key city, but Alden would have shared the man’s concern, had their positions been swapped.
“Who led the remaining knights?” Dhatri eventually asked. Distracting himself, Alden knew. Dhatri had been meticulous in recording the names of every knight that surrendered upon entering the city.
“Peothar,” Alden said, humoring the commander. An unexceptional knight, Peothar had been among the few who had remained behind, having surrendered to Alden once he re-entered the city. Peothar and perhaps twenty others of mixed knights, men-at-arms, and archers had confronted him as he walked down the main street. The men had knelt before him and offered up their weapons to him, intent on surrendering personally to him.
After that Dhatri’s army arrived, securing the outskirts of the city first, and then the city proper once they saw there was to be no resistance.
And now Dhatri and Alden awaited the arrival of the second commander, a man by the name Madulf who was, by Dhatri’s description, as intelligent as he was rebellious. A short description, but one that highly interested Alden. Dhatri’s praise was always in high regard.
He felt Madulf’s arrival before he saw or heard him. It was a sinking feeling in his gut, along with the sudden urge to flee. Dhatri must have felt it too, as his eyes were glued to the door.
It opened to reveal Madulf and, behind him, the Vigilants. A thin man, Madulf was in full formal military dress, wearing a green overcoat and a sash of golden thread that flowed down and across his torso. Adorned on the sash were a number of medals and insignias, the most notable of them a black medal in the shape of a star twice the size of the others.
“You are Sir Alden?” Commander Madulf asked, a hint of animosity stirring beneath his calm veneer.
“Baron, now,” Ormar interrupted. Madulf looked at Ormar with uncustomary displeasure. The man’s desire to toss the Vigilant from the room was palpable, but the commander kept himself in check. Even had he the authority to dismiss them, the pure power of the Vigilants was more than enough to quell any complaint.
“Do you have a Writ of Status proving such?” Madulf asked.
“I have no need of one. My word is the Emperor’s in matters such as these.”
“Unless His Excellency deigns to disagree with your promotion of this man,” Madulf stated.
Dhatri gave Madulf a concerned look. “Let us leave it be, shall we? We have more pressing matters.”
Madulf relaxed his shoulders slightly, but when he turned to Alden his animosity was unchanged. “Baron Licester’s manor has been burned to the ground, and him with it. From the wreckage we’ve established that the majority of his knights were not present at the time of the burning, but the number who have surrendered to us directly is but a fraction of the total the Baron had employed. And that’s to say nothing of any knights loaned by Hilva.”
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“Our scouts are reporting signs of mass travel to the east,” Dhatri added. “They’ve fled to the north east, as far as we can tell, and recently.”
“The question we have for you, Baron, is simple,” Madulf said, adding scornful emphasis on ‘baron’. “Why did they retreat?”
“Do not answer that,” Ormar said.
“Excuse me?” Madulf replied, a lick of his animosity breaching the surface.
Ormar grinned at the commander. “Neither I, nor my associates, are here for the fun of it. What we are here for is to ensure certain secrets remain as secrets.”
“And potentially jeopardize the war effort?” Madulf replied. “Critical information such as Hilva’s intentions and their ongoings in Grensfield could help end this war within the year. Perhaps sooner!”
“The war effort is not our concern,” Ormar said.
The commander’s pale complexion shifted colors, becoming a pink-red that was reminiscent of sunburnt skin. He stared hard at the Vigilant, his anger bubbling to the surface until he could hold it no longer.
“The war effort is not your concern,” he said, repeating Ormar’s words in a dark tone.
“Correct,” Ormar said.
From his rage, Alden thought Madulf would lash out physically then, the consequences be damned. But he held his reason and spoke once more, this time in a quiet voice laced with venom.
“The Empire rots away from war and malfeasance and yet you do nothing.”
“We do as we’re told,” Idmaer said.
The commander tightened his hands into fists until the knuckles turned white. “What even is the purpose of the Vigilants, if not to help quell rebellion? What is your purpose here?”
“That’s confidential,” Ormar said.
“Does the Emperor even know what’s happening? How can this be allowed to happen?”
“We don’t know.”
The words struck Madulf like a fist, and when he collected himself his anger flared and his voice rose almost to shouting. “Ridiculous! How can you not know?”
Dhatri frowned. “It’s the damned Imperial Curtain, isn’t it?”
“Just so,” Ormar admitted. “Contrary to what you may believe, while the Imperial Curtain still stands we know almost as little as you do.”
“Nothing in, nothing out,” Madulf said, resigned.
Alden looked between the men in search of understanding. He had heard the term before, enough to know it was important but not enough to glean its meaning.
Dhatri caught his eye and seemed to read his thoughts. “You don’t know about it, do you?”
Alden shook his head. “Very little.”
“I’m surprised. I didn’t take you for a foreigner,” Madulf said.
Dhatri shrugged. “I’m not so sure he is.”
“He’s an amnesiac,” Ormar explained. “Or so he claims to be.”
Madulf leveled a strange gaze on him, as if he was not human but instead some unusual animal with parts he recognized and others he did not.
“The capital is cut off from the rest of the Empire,” he said after a moment. “There is no traveling in or out, no trade of goods or information, and very little in the way of communication between the Emperor and his subjects. What communication that does take place is administered by the Vigilants, such as our esteemed guests here. I had assumed they would know more, know why.”
“An assumption many make, and one we do not want to discourage,” Ormar said. “I will ask kindly that what has been revealed here does not make it from this room.”
The was quiet acceptance among them, then Madulf walked with a slow, contemptful gate until he stood before Alden. Shortest of the men in the room, he strained to look up at Alden’s face, which seemed to add to his contempt.
“What can I ask?” The question was not for Alden.
“How many he fought, how many he killed, how strong their leader was. Just ask, and if it goes too far I shall stop you,” Ormar replied.
Madulf grimaced. “I detest these games, Vigilant.”
“Then settle for those three. Alden, give the Commander your answer, if you would.”
Alden looked into the Commander’s eyes and held his stare. “I didn’t get a count. Thousands, I’d guess. And their leader was a mage, perhaps the strongest I’ve faced. I don’t think any knight I’ve met could have beaten him.”
“Did you kill him?” Madulf asked. A simple question, yet Alden could feel Ormar’s eyes digging into him. The question was a misdirection, they all knew. Madulf wanted to know if they’d retreated because of the mage's death.
“I didn’t kill anyone. I’m sure there are enough soldiers to attest to that.”
Color faded from Madulf’s face. He turned to Dhatri, who shrugged, then turned again to Ormar.
Ormar smirked. “A fine victory, I’d say.”
“More to interrogate, I suppose,” Madulf said quietly.
“See? Always a bright side to things,” Ormar said. Madulf flashed him a loathsome look, but said nothing.
“Is there any more need of me?” Alden asked. Truth be told, he was becoming weary of the constant back and forth between the Commander and the Vigilants. There was an unspoken friction there, one Alden did not share and did not care to share. Most of all, as he looked from one man to another, he realized he saw no strings attached to any of them. There was nothing for him here.
Dhatri leafed through his papers a moment. “There is,” he said once the paper had eluded him too long. Eventually he found it and handed it to Aldne.
On the parchment was a sketch of the city’s layout, drawn in fine black markings that smeared slightly to the touch. It detailed the city’s many streets and businesses, as well as a number of storehouses, barracks, and even where Baron Licester’s manor once stood. At the center of it all was a location marked ‘Church of the Council.”
“What’s this for?” he asked.
“This,” Dhatri said, pointing to the Church of the Council, “is your next stop.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s not the religious sort, I take it?” Madulf asked.
“No,” Dhatri said.
Madulf gave a weary sigh. “The Empire is a religious nation. When a city is taken, it is customary for the leader of the conquering force to hold a Prayer of Triumph in the city’s largest church, in essence claiming the city under the divine authority of the Empire and the Gods which it represents.”
“Necessary, I take it?” Alden asked.
“Yes, unless you wish to court rebellion.”
“Take solace,” Dhatri said, looking up at him. “The prayer is a simple affair. It will take only a few minutes of your time.”
Somehow he doubted that. But as Dhatri walked to the door, Alden could not help but follow, dreading every step.
They are not my Gods, he thought.
What of the Maker? the sister asked, her words laced with an odd desperation, as if hearing a ‘no’ would do her harm. Not that he could hide the answer, regardless.
Maybe, was all he could answer.