Chapter 2

The town of Perouth was at least busy upon first look. The earthen mound piled behind the wall meant there were no houses crowded against it and set back from the gateway was an open market area of some kind. Folk from all around pedaled what wares they had their voices loud and welcoming if their eyes had the dark haunted look everyone’s seemed to. Ag took the time to look over what they were selling from a distance as he rode through. Whether or not he stayed in the West, he could at least have one go at trading from the rewards he got from the job.

There was an array of varied items from scraps of steel, iron, and leather armor. Leather was the most common seeing as it didn’t take nearly as much effort to obtain the materials. The large cattle that roamed the western hills provided the merchants with furs and leathers, milk, cheese, butter, and beef to sell. Vegetables could be seen though bread was scarce as the area needed for a good crop of wheat was hard to come by. Fish was by far the most prevalent item for sale to no one's surprise. Ag reckoned fish and boats were the only things he could buy for cheap here although the distinct lack of trees in the surrounding area might make the boat market somewhat more pricey.

Ag and his guide passed through the market, catching the eye of almost everyone around. Outsiders were rare anywhere and a stranger riding into town was always worth noticing if only to hear the stories of the wider world. The path they followed wound up a low hill towards the squat keep, houses crowded the sides of the lane and the common folk had to press against the walls of houses to avoid their horse's hooves. The keep itself, though small, was rather sturdy looking. Thick stones had been used to build it and even with the clinging patches of moss that grew on it there was an air of stubborn long life to the building as if it was saying that small though it was it could stand the test of time. The area around it was clear of houses as it was given sole ownership of the hill's peak and the churned muddy area around it had nearly as much motion going on as the market.

Soldiers tramped around on their routes, stablehands were brushing and feeding horses in a small paddock, and large armored wagons were being pushed aside from the entrance of the keep. The wagons were Ag’s first clue as to who had recommended him. From the front of one hung a banner of scarlet with a black hand crushing a skull, a rather artful banner as they went, most folk, even lords, tended to keep the design simple. It was the sign of the Black Hand, a clan of mercenaries and stone skin hunters, or human hunters if you paid enough.

“How many of those fools from the company did your lord hire?” Ag asked as he and Martine reigned their horses in and dismounted.

Martine allowed a stable hand to take his horse before turning to face Ag. “You’ll find that out soon enough. And weren’t you a member of the company yourself?”

Ag chuckled. “I was then I wised up enough to see their leader was a crackpot looking to make a kingdom for himself off of our backs. I may be a fool but I’m not that foolish. How’d you know I was with them anyway?”

“I was sent to find you, they told me some about you. Not much but some.”

“All good I hope,” Ag replied, striking what he hoped was a dashing pose. “All tales of a brave and noble soldier I’m sure.”

“Hardly,” Martine replied with a sniff. “I heard you were good enough at swinging the pigsticker on your back but lousy at most anything else required of a soldier.”

Ag deflated under Martines’ haughty expression in an over-dramatic show of disappointment. “Well, at least they didn’t lie to you.” He slapped the younger man’s shoulder. “Come on then, let's not keep the lordship and his hired crew of morons waiting.”

Ag started towards the doors of the keep, Martine following after a moment's hesitation. The doors were pulled open to reveal a grand if somewhat cramped dining hall. Its stone walls were decently high and thick wooden pillars and rafters supported the stone roof. Torches and candles were in brackets or alcoves and provided decent light along with the fire in the large fireplace. That seemed to be the one spot in the keep that had gotten a bit of special attention. The stone mantle and the stone all around it were carved into swirling depictions of great battles and duels although if they were from history, myth, or religious texts, he wasn’t sure. The hall was crowded, mostly with servants and soldiers but there were also more than a few stranger types crowding around the table, and from the sounds, it seemed like they had found some particularly good mead.

At the head of the table sat a man who had to be Lord Andelmar Andel. He looked at the men and women before him with an air of clear superiority, his green eyes tracking any who moved. Raven black hair was swept back over his head and a short beard only served to highlight his pale skin. He was dressed in subdued finery, a simple open-fronted jacket, and a shirt made of very fine material without the excess of years before. This was a man who knew his status but also knew the world they lived in. His eyes locked on Ag as soon as he entered and he felt suddenly uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

The lord stood and made his way around the table and waved Ag and Martine to approach as he did. Martine immediately sprang into motion, his eagerness to do as his lord commanded was almost amusing. Ag took his time, following just behind Martine but taking the time to scan the men crowding the table. These Western men seemed to all have either blonde or light brown hair, although they were more neatly trimmed than Ag’s kin in the East were. Most seemed natives of the land but a few stood out to him.

One was a woman, that was surprising enough in this company, but she was not the boisterous warrior you’d expect to see. Slim framed and dressed in travelers garb, her small size was a stark contrast to the large men surrounding her although her long, braided blonde hair marked her as a local. She laughed with a few of the men and Ag was surprised to recognize one. Torvun Urg, a suitably Eastern name for a very Eastern man. His hair was gray, which wasn’t uncommon for easterners, and as wild as any from Ag’s homeland. That, paired with his shaggy beard, made him very clearly stand out from the rest. He laughed louder than the rest and seemed to outdrink them as well.

To Torvun’s right sat the woman and beside her sat a shifty-eyed man with the same black hair as the lord. Ag doubted they were related in any way other than the fact they were both Southerners. His eyes roamed as much as the lords had and they quickly found Ag and Martine making their way around the large table. His expression never changed but he was appraising Ag as much as he appraised the shifty man. There was no more time for sightseeing as they met the lord at the side of the table.

“Ah.” The Lord said as he neared the two. “From your dress, I assume you are the easterner the captain of the company told us about?”

“Aye, m’lord,” Ag said, knuckling his brow. It wasn’t a proper greeting for a noble but it was as much as the lord of this manor would get. Ag had no love for nobles, he’d heard much from his father’s time in the empire and after the world fell apart he’d seen more than one highborn leave the common folk to die while they cowered behind walls.

“Quite a town you’ve got here and a fancy keep to boot.”

Lord Andelmar smiled graciously at the comment but it wasn’t hard to miss the fact that it never reached his eyes. “Indeed, though I do hope to change where I reside shortly. I understand you have questions regarding the task I have for you but that will all come in time. For now, enjoy the food and the company. I’m sure your kinsman would like to catch up.”

With that, the lord of Perouth gave another smile and made his way back to his seat. Ag glanced in the direction he’d seen Torvun sitting and found the man right where he’d been. Torvun had noticed Ag and his face broke into a huge and familiar smile as their eyes met. Ag couldn’t help but smile back and make his way around the crowded table as Torvun waved at him.

The man who sat beside Torvun, a local by the looks of him, was swaying slightly where he sat, his eyes closed, hand just barely holding on to his mug of ale. Torvun gave him a hearty shove which made him pitch backwards off the bench and crash onto the floor. The sudden fall was met with a chorus of laughs, Torvun loudest among them. The drunk did little in the way of retaliation other than weakly reach for the back of his head which must have whacked against the wooden floor.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ag took the now open space and Torvun shoved a mug into his hand. “Aguerus my boy!” the huge man shouted. “It’s good to see you’re still alive and kicking. I was nearly sure you’d wound up a snack for the stone skins or worse, a fetching young lass who made you settle down in your prime.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you on both counts, old man. I wasn’t worried about you in the slightest, you’re too stubborn to die and with that face, any young lass would run for the hills.” Ag replied with a laugh. “But who knows, mayhaps a stone-skinned woman will find you a worthy husband.”

Torvund let out a bellowing laugh that would have sounded fake coming from anyone else but the big man’s laughs were never anything other than completely genuine. “If you find me a stone skin with a good body and most of her hair, maybe I’ll take the opportunity to settle down. Say hello to my new compatriots, the distinguished Lady Genine and the not-so-distinguished Marus.”

Ag gave them both courteous nods which were returned. The man, Marus, more than likely wouldn’t have given anything more and the woman seemed far too flustered by the crowded room to manage anything else.

“Anyone here know what the job’s all about?” Ag asked. “I had to wake up from a rather pleasant nap to be here and I’d like to know why.”

Torvund shook his head. “I’ve heard as much as you but whatever it is there was enough reward promised to get the First Sword of the clan interested. Who can say with these noble types; sometimes it’s a big payout for petty grudges, sometimes it’s killing more stone skins than you can count.”

“How’d you get these two to sign up for your crackpot clan anyway?” Ag asked before taking a swig of ale and looking for something mostly intact to eat.

“Crackpots are we?” Torvund laughed. “If we are, you’re included in that since you did run with us for nearly a year. Or have you forgotten?”

“No, I remember alright but at least I was smart enough to leave when the first sword started going mad.”

“He’s not mad, Ag.” His smile lessened somewhat. “He’s just got big ideas. And yes I do think they might be too big for him to handle but I trust the man to steer us clear of anything bad.”

“Sure.” Ag drawled. “I trust him when he’s rational but from what I’ve heard he gets worse by the day. I mean all his talk about making an empire like the one from a century ago and all this being the wrath of the gods like those crazies that broke from the church when all hell broke loose. Even you have to admit it's pretty crazy.”

“Aye, I’ll admit he’s getting worse and some of his ideas ain’t the best,” Torvund mumbled, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “But I keep clear of all that. They give me a job and I do it then I get paid, simple as that.”

Ag shifted, Torvund’s awkwardness making him feel guilty. “So your two friends?” He asked again, steering the conversation to a less testy subject.

“Three, actually,” Torvund said, patting Ag on the shoulder in thanks. “The third doesn’t come to these sorts of things but you’ll see him later. As for these two, Marus joined up after his clan got ripped apart by stone skins. Genine, well, I’m not too sure when she joined. She keeps herself to herself and I’m all good with that.”

Ag nodded and looked the two over again. Genine was fiddling with something in her lap and whatever it was had her attention fully. Marus was looking right back at him, his lanky black hair shadowing his eyes to mere pinpricks of reflected candlelight.

“What was your clan?”

“Crows.” The man’s voice was rather raspy as if it was little used.

Ag waited for anything else to be said then hefted his mug and downed the rest of the ale. “Well, this will be fun.” He muttered and Torvund clapped him on the back with enough force to shove him forward onto the table.

“You’ll have a wonderful time, lad.” He bellowed. “Now, drink up so we can finally find out what it is we’re doing and get a good night's rest.”

Ag did just that, finding a pitcher of ale and refilling his mug before pilfering the more desirable bits of food off platters and plates.

__________

The sun was quickly approaching the horizon, its glowing bulk sinking behind the waters of the inland sea. The orange light cut through the haze that had been present throughout the day, the clouds and mist catching the light and turning the sky above the sea into a burning expanse. Ag watched the sun sing through a slit window, the best there was in this stubby tower. The other two windows allowed for thin vertical beams of light to illuminate the room before the candles and fireplace of the lord's office would be left as the only source of light.

The Lord himself sat at a great wooden desk with large bookshelves lining the curve of the wall behind him. A plush rug of what looked like bear fur covered the room's center and along the sides were a few scattered chairs and small tables as well as more bookshelves. Joining Ag and Lord Andelmar was Torvund, who was perched on one of the chairs although he was so large he barely fit. The big man’s companions had followed him, Genine scanned the many shelves of books while Marus leaned against the wall away from the light. The wooden doors of the office swung open and a fourth man walked in. He was quite different from all the others in the room both in appearance and bearing. The dirty blonde hair of most Westerners was pulled back in a small ponytail while his beard was cut short and neatly trimmed. His eyes had none of the suspicion of Marus or Andelmar or the hidden danger of Torvund. Everything about him, from the way he walked to the small smile on his face exuded an air of openness that most men of these times had long lost.

“Ah,” Torvund said, making to rise then stopping himself. “This is the man I brought with me, Ag. Meet Esker Delmon, our on-hand scholar, and unwelcome preacher.”

Esker proffered a hand to Ag who took it. “Good to meet you. I can’t help but wonder what a preacher is doing with this crowd. I assumed all the religious folk were killed off by stone skins and the like when all this went down.”

“Unfortunately that is largely true,” Esker replied, his expression turning somber. “A great many noblemen and women died when the world was consumed by this madness. Very few are left of true faith.”

Ag nodded, unsure how to respond to that so he said nothing, a safe bet in his experience. He’d never been one for religion. He supposed he believed but hadn’t given it much thought and in recent years just staying alive had taken most of his attention.

Lord Andelmar cleared his throat, saving Ag from having to say anything else to Esker, and stood. “Gentlemen and lady Genine, I’m sure you’re all very curious as to why I’ve summoned you here. The job I have planned for you is a matter of great secrecy and to keep the secret I was obliged to keep my proposal to you all rather vague. Now I can tell you what it is that needs doing plainly.”

He picked up a large, rolled-up parchment that had been leaning on the desk and unrolled it, beckoning them forward. It was a rather detailed map of the local area and near its southeastern edge was a location marked in red ink.

“This,” The lord began, pointing at the marked spot. “Is your job. Castle Toulon, most of you may know it as the Scarlet Spire was my family's great fortress. This plague on our lands has been going for nearly two decades but when it first began our stronghold withstood any attack until we were betrayed. Our court wizard, Balasar, turned on us. I learned later what he was, one of the Red Captains, but at the time we had no knowledge they even existed. Most of my family was slaughtered and the keep was overrun by stone skin under his control. You are going to take it back for me.”

Silence greeted the proclamation. Ag nearly laughed but Torvund actually did. The sheer incredulity of the request made it seem unreal. “Take back a castle,” Torvund said when he had stopped laughing. “I have four with me, including Ag, and you promised ten men. How do you suggest we do that?”

“Why would you even want the castle back?” Ag asked. “You already have a fortified town. A castle just means more protection for a few.”

Andelmar didn’t respond until he was sure no one else was laughing or asking questions. “To address the first question, I only need a few for my plan. You are not meant to storm the castle, just kill Balasar. I know a secret way in, through the buried crypts, From there you will kill the traitor which will leave his stone skin weak and confused. When I arrive with my full force we will sweep them aside and take the castle.”

“And my question? Why do you suddenly want a castle?” Ag asked.

The lord flipped the map. It showed the same area but was covered in lines of red from the south, east, and north. “The hordes are becoming worse. When this all began, we saw one maybe once in a year then a few in a year. They have begun coming once a month and even more recently within a few weeks of each other. I don’t know the reason why but what I do know is that our walls are not all that high, our gate is not all that strong, and all it would take is one Red Captain to break a hole in our defenses and leave us at the mercy of the hordes.” He looked at them, one by one. “We need better defenses if we are to weather the coming storm.”

Again, silence greeted him, but this time no one broke it with a laugh.

“So, all we need to do is travel down there, dodging hordes, sneak into a castle infested with stone skins, and kill a Red Captain,” Ag said. He looked at Torvund. “Whatever the reward was, I say you push for a little more.”

“Take some time,” Andelmar said, rolling up the map. “Think about it. And tell me your answer in the morning.” With that the door opened and the group left.