Lyra peeked one eye around the limestone corner, tucking her tufted ear to reduce her outline. Though her tail swished excitedly, extending far beyond the corner’s cover. Jenkins tried not to laugh, turning away from the hallway and peering out the window. Across the empty courtyard towards the pig stys and Keep. Watchmen stood at every tower, and Dorian’s outriders had carved a dirt path around the wall’s interior perimeter with their constant patrols.
Jealousy filled Jenkins at Dorian’s pistol corps, whose weapons seemed as potent as a pocket wizard, always at hand and packing an angry wallop. Fabric from newly tailored dresses swished in the silent dawn –we survived another night, thank Taloc in bloody heaven that no more golems showed up– thought Jenkins, as two juvenile eclipsiarchs ran headlong into his legs.
He planted the brass golem’s spear, whose solid metal construction created a paradox. It was impossibly heavy when stationary, yet Jenkins could swing and thrust the spear as quickly as a wand. All eight of the golem’s weapons were similar, and had been distributed to the various commanders or sergeants. Nyota and Phaedra carried brass daggers, Arlet and Jenkins carried spears –though Arlet often lent his to whichever knight was on portal-watch–, while Liam and Dorian carried swords, leaving two remaining brass blades of unusual construction for the magi to examine.
Aided by the stability of the spear, Jenkins stood firm against the feline tackles. They wrapped their arms around his legs, and squeezed with all their tiny might.
“Whoa!” Said Jenkins, feigning unsteadiness by stumbling two steps forward.
“Hehe! Gotchu Cappy Jenkins!” Cried Lyra and Niana in unison. Absolutely beaming at their victorious ambush.
“You girls are just too sneaky!” Said Jenkins, somehow making Niana’s grin wider.
“Lyra! We’re sneeeaakkyy!” Cried Niana.
“Yaaaaayyyyy!” Shouted Lyra, clearly not understanding the implications, but enjoying Niana’s excitement.
Their antics earned a puzzled look from Phaedra, wondering what had fostered their obsession with stealth. She chalked it up to being a cat thing, and scootched closer to the fire. It had rained the night before, and while her scales were totally waterproof the chill was making her sluggish. Her warm-blooded mutation allowed her to cope with the cold, and Stheno’s ilk were better adjusted to the current climate, but they were all starting to slow. When the snow inevitably fell, the gorgons would be dead weight, forced into a decision between Greenwood hibernation or returning home via Calypso’s charged crystal. An option that several medusan gorgons had already opted for. Since they had achieved their goal and had left while accompanied by at least one willing man. But Phaedra knew Jenkins would never leave Greenwood, it had taken a direct order from Lord Liam to get him out of Sintra, and Jenkins only agreed once Lord Liam had conceded to returning him once winter began. He might be convinced to journey abroad, but never to call another place home.
Kira, the silver haired maid, and Yoko, the black haired maid, shadowed Lyra and Niana, keeping watch of their precious charges. Four felinid men with spears and requisitioned Blackwood shields followed behind in a pseudo-royal procession, as if the young girls were feline princesses who required protection. One more confusing aspect of the deference all felinids showed the eclipsiarchs.
Before anyone could think a shout echoed through the castle, repeated by every watchman in a double wave that ran around the castle walls.
“Portals!”
All fell silent, listening for the death knells of hellhounds or the roar of pistols. A moment later they heard both, then another cry went out.
“Five clear.”
Jenkins held his tongue, wondering how many conscripts they had lost this time. The things Lord Liam called ‘dino-sourses’ had appeared with greater frequency and were claiming lives with each appearance. Forcing Jenkins to ask the question ‘How long can we keep this up?’ Dorian’s pistols were effective, and they had plenty of round balls from the local silversmiths, but they were nearly out of powder. Another day, maybe two and they would be forced into standard cavalry charges, against creatures Jenkins would have called dragons.
Niana’s small hand tugged Jenkin’s mind into the present via his pantleg.
“What’s lady meanwood doing?” She asked, pointing toward the western gate.
They followed her finger, seeing Lucrezia Blackwood and a slew of attendants trying to exit the castle. Thus far they had gone unnoticed, primarily due to their dark attire and the presence of more concerning portals.
“Hopefully sodding off to be a wart on someone else’s ar–” Began Jenkins, remembering there were children present a half second too late. “Aherm… someone else’s armor.” He corrected.
Kira, Yoko, and Phaedra all glared at him, though they found his correction to be adequate and remained silent. Since they were more interested in Lucrezia’s potential escape. Greenhaven militiamen marched through the band of attendees, searching the carriage and each of their faces. Lucrezia’s protests reached Jenkins through the dawning haze, sounding like nails on a chalkboard.
“Just let her go, we’ll all be happier if that howling banshee leaves.” Muttered jenkins, praying aloud for mercy.
“I hope they rip her dresses and whip her.” Said Kira, flicking her tail nervously.
Yoko nodded, drawing interested gazes from Lyra and Niana. Kids are like sponges, they absorb everything, good and bad… Thought Jenkins.
“Sinking to old Lucrezia’s tactics won’t make you happy. Nor will it teach the hag anything, she’ll take her lashes and run off to other nobles with evidence of the abuse. No, tis better that we let her go unharmed. She has already lost everything she ever cared about, her son is dead, her husband is broken, her house is filled with monsters, and most tragically, her reputation is ruined.” Said Jenkins, emphasizing the last sentence.
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“Along with my back.” Hissed Kira.
Her eyes followed Lucrezia’s carriage, dilating as the gate swung open and her abuser escaped judgment.
Jenkins wanted to disagree, but knew it was pointless, instead he stroked Lyra’s hair, hoping the child would find the mercy within her heart to forgive humanity. Lyra’s purring gave him hope, but her claws dug into his leg… Without forgiveness, the road to peace would lead through endless wars of vengeance.
Lord Liam, I’m not sure your goal of peace is possible. Centuries of vivisections and whipping cannot be forgotten in a lifetime. Please, don’t leave us now, not when we need your rationality the most.
—
Liam opened the last door in Blackwood Castle, completing his personal search of every room, closet, cellar, treasury, bedroom, armory, hallway, dungeon, pig sty, gatehouse, tower, machicolation, and pantry. Regardless of the room, all food, treasure, gold, silver, copper, and weapons had been liberated. Either loaded onto wagons, portaled back to Greenhaven, or distributed to the fighting men of the collected armies. Though some parchment had remained, granting Alexander Blackwood the ability to write letters.
Former Viscount Blackwood had nearly passed out when he realized what was occurring, but he held his tongue. As if his liposuction treatment had sucked the courage out of him, alongside his lard. Though Liam wondered if Blackwood had stashed away some bounty in an attic or distant keep. Blackwood Castle was but one of six similar fortifications in the Viscounty, and Blackwood’s disgrace did not relieve his bannermen of their debts. So long as he provided receipts to them, his bannermen could shelter him; counting their hospitality against the debts owed.
And once again Liam considered electrocuting him. It would be so easy to raise his finger and slay his –once mortal– enemy. Remember, Blackwood isn’t evil, he is just a product of this world’s morality… Don’t kill him… Do not kill him. Thought Liam, repeating the phrase every minute he was in Alexander Blackwood’s presence.
The litany proved effective, and Liam left Alexander’s odor behind, as if the man’s rampant sweating was beneath his notice. What wasn’t beneath anyone’s notice, was the enormous portal. Which now overshadowed not just the keep proper, but the entire diameter of Blackwood Castle’s defensive wall. A truly incontrovertible catastrophe that was growing flatter. God’s anus –as Jenkins had minted it– would soon open. An event as guaranteed as the apocalypse it would soon rain down on them.
We’ve got a few days… And Duke Hamilton still isn’t here… Without him, I have no idea how we’ll succeed. Thought Liam. I’ll have to trust in Quetzalcoatl and Taloc…
To place his life in their hands…
Liam marched out of the keep, finding Jenkins and Phaedra near the head of the wagon caravan. Jenkins reclined on the wagon, sitting even with Phaedra’s towering height. A marvel that Liam would have dismissed as a legend only three months prior.
“Jenkins, I have a mission that only you and Phaedra can complete.” Said Liam.
“Boss, that sounds like you’re fixing to get us killed! That won’t do, not at all! I plan to die smothered between a pair of lovely hips, after I've sired a hundred littles.” Said Jenkins.
“A hundred? We’ll have to get sstarted ssoon.” Quipped Phaedra, making Jenkin’s eye’s bulge.
Their jovial natures blended well, reassuring Liam of his orders. He retrieved three letters from inside his coat, passing one to Jenkins and two to Phaedra, all with simple instructions written on their exterior.
“Love notes? Ah, you’re lucky I’m a literate man!” Said Jenkins, reading the exterior.
–DO NOT OPEN until you’ve reached Sintra, AND the super-portal above Blackwood Castle has popped.--
Phaedra read her own letters, slipping them into her exterior dress pockets.
“Careful now, those are heartfelt confessions, open them alone or someone close might see you cry.” Said Liam, winking at Jenkins. “My orders are simple, you both need to live. Take the wagon’s to Mont St Michel, then take the gorgons and naga to Sintra. Stheno assures me that the naga, can endure the bitter winter cold. But I know Phaedra’s gorgon’s cannot–”
Liam held up a hand to interrupt Phaedra, already knowing she would protest.
“Therun Perun Taloc has granted me one vision during my life, in that vision I saw gorgons traversing the glass sea, playing a pivotal role in the Kheresh wastes. Those letters will explain further, when the time is right.” Finished Liam.
Jenkins looked from the letter to his face, trying to ascertain his true intentions. “Boss, why do I feel like you’re kissing our arses goodbye?” He said.
“Watch Captain Jenkins, it’s Lord Liam, not boss. And I have no intention of dying. I can assure you, the only thing that would cause me to sacrifice myself would be Nyota’s safety, and some contrived situation where I had to fight on the front lines, against an impossible creature. We will see each other again, by Taloc’s will I swear this.” Said Liam, extending his hand to Jenkins.
“By Therun Perun Taloc’s will then.” Answered Jenkins, shaking the offered hand to bind the sworn oath. “Arlet’s a severe man, you can’t leave him alone to be Niana’s stepfather.” Added Jenkins.
Liam only smiled, walking away from the odd couple to his other generals. He gave them similar letters, five to Nyota –the top of which read “in case of dragons”--, twelve to Soren, and four to Arlet, though one was addressed to ‘Argent’s daughter’. Earning a deeply furrowed brow from the champion.
There was no letter for Rhendal, but as Liam’s eyes met his, a different form of communication occurred. Rhendal nodded sagely, seeking out his own quill and ink which he began furiously writing with. As if he expected to drop dead the moment he paused to breathe.
“What’s the meaning of this Liam?” Snapped Arlet, waving the letter to ‘Argent’s daughter’.
“Thanks to your advice I've had a lot of time to think. Some of those letters are laws or standards you should implement. Reforms to Greenwood’s legal code, small things like how felinid disputes should be handled and overarching guidelines, but that last letter… That’s something special. Your father introduced us as children, invited Lord Green and I to your home, but he never introduced your sister…” Said Liam.
Arlet went very still, totally ridged beneath his polished armor.
“It took me a while, but your secret was always implicitly understood. Green chose to never put the pieces together because he knew it might lead to… ahem, his temptation. A sin that thinking of her as your sister thoroughly cleared him of. In fact, it took the excitement out of the chase. Made sure she was safe.” Said Liam.
The champion was struck dumb for several long moments. Eventually his eyes took on the foggy clarity of his strategist class, allowing logic to guide his emotions.
“Green always knew…” Whispered Arlet.
“From the day he handed you that crystal.” Confirmed Liam.
Water dripped down Arlet’s cheeks, flowing freely as the weight of his former master’s –and true friend’s– death impacted him. No amount of strategic logic could have staunched those tears. A chair bumped into the back of his knees, propelled by Nyota’s touch. And Liam offered his own handkerchief, a lavish silk affair embroidered with Baron Green’s house emblem. Though the fabric had been singed by lightning. Arlet blinked away tears, trying to distinguish what the fabric was.
“It’s from the lightning strike that brought me to this world. Of all the people I have met, I’m glad you were second.” Liam placed his free hand on Nyota’s shoulder. “If you’d been first I might’ve married you.”
Arlet laughed, tears flowing freely as he finally considered Lord Liam his friend.