-
> Praise be the mighty warrior God,
>
> For he cuts down friends and foes without sentiment. There is naught of that in the field. But one can seek it after the pyres are extinguished in remembrance. In blood sodden ‘n burned funeral rocks, brittle broken ‘n black bones. And in the well-sharpened steel blade’s edge that wears its marks like memories of past struggles.
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
>
> A prayer to Tyeus
>
> Unknown date
-
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Sir Gust De Weer
Raven of Dawn
Queen of Veer’s Gulf
Part III
-The Old Crow-
volume I
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-
Volume IA
-Long time no see…-
-
> Old people say that when the pirate captains supporting the victorious Reinut realized that attacking the Lorian Lords in the south might be too big an undertaking and might even unite them under the ever expanding ‘Lord Consul’ Lucius’ banner, they decided to head mostly north instead.
>
> Some headed east but kept on the northern shores side of the large Canlita Lake. Thus skirting the south. The latter unfavorable due to terrain and the nearby mountain range Eastwards destination was also more difficult –heading away from the supporting fleet- but provided some incentives. Mainly to the Lakelords of Irde that were behind this eastbound drive, since it reminded them of the great Kaletha Lake in a much bigger scale.
>
> Still, the pragmatists of the Ikete preferred to remain near the waters they knew about and stopped shy of crossing Wayford River with the last of them settling near nowadays Badum.
>
> The bulk of them veered south from Reinut’s Gulf where the transport ships of the Armada had found safe haven, inching closer to the ‘borders’ with the still unformed Regia and the warry Lord Lucius the first.
>
> Lord ‘Captain’ Henk was a tall lanky man, ‘thin-as-death’ who didn’t argue Reinut’s decisions usually, but wasn’t as accommodating as Lord Theun Est Ravn who hailed from Sessi. How Reinut had gotten the most religious of the Issir cities to support him is a tale now lost in history.
>
> So Reinut and Theun along with the few warships left to them headed for ‘Kaletha Gulf’ and the natural harbor across the island Capri they named ‘Caspo O’ Bor’ for it reminded them of the entrance to same-named gulf near Sessi. Tim Van De Aesst moored the worn-out warships there with the winter coming but Reinut and Theun continued marching. They attacked the locals at Greywood Castle and Trinir, then drove the lowlands Northmen and Lorians back until they could march no more for that season.
>
>
> Henk did the opposite. He marched on foot and horse lacking ships, the around ninety transports of the Ikete had been left behind fearing the Zilan might appear again. With the occasional tremors still coming and going but less frequent now a stark reminder of the danger, Henk split from the Van Oords after Boar Mountain and continued through the Great Greenforest where he smashed a local warlord named Timus Toes after quite the struggle.
>
> The man had his lair at Toefort and kept retreating there only to return the next month for a new raid on the newly built settlement at Rusted. Henk led a large war party after him after some months of suffering assault after assault and reached a place where a large plateau gently sloped towards the beaches of the calm Gulf.
>
> The scalding wind whistled through the narrow peninsulas Toe & Tongue and run up the gentle slopes of the plateau bringing exotic seeds from the Old Realms they’ve left behind to them. Some of the flora familiar to the Issirs with touches of the nearby of sorts Wetull. At the far edge of the plateau where the slopes were vertical and foreboding, overlooking the expansive Greenforest to the north and Veer’s Gulf to the south, stood an old ruined tower. With only its circular foundations remaining Henk didn’t know how tall the building once was or who it belonged to, other that the ruin was ancient. In the attempt to search for clues as this was a natural defensive position, he almost got eaten alive by a large murder of crows that blinded his horse and eventually killed it.
>
> A livid Henk came back better prepared and determined to avenge his horse but while the majority of the Issir warriors patiently waited near the base of the plateau for their leader to return, Timus appeared with his men. He was traveling to attack Rusted again and the Issirs paid him with the same coin. Hence the plateau got its name and Henk who had missed the whole thing chasing crows away from the ruins gave up and decided to share the place with them.
>
> Some claim the aloof ‘now Duke of Blackcrow’s Pillar’ built the tower so tall because the crows always gathered at the highest place ‘to gaze at the lands and ruminate on things’ and the Lord of Scaldingport wanted to keep them as far away from him as possible. Lord Mandel De Weer -his son- who took over from the turning mad in his late years Henk around 21 NC, opened a massive circular window in the rebuilt mostly windowless Blackcrow’s Hall for ventilation. He made it high and beyond anyone’s reach, the tunnel through the three meters thick tall walls narrowing while angling upwards so it was almost concealed from outside.
>
> That very autumn, not four months into his reign, the crows returned into the Duke’s Hall and never left.
>
>
> Histories
>
> Volume II
>
> Chapter I
>
> -A prologue to the years after the Fall-
>
> Gallio Veturius
>
> Circa 98 NC
>
> (Proscribed Edition)
>
> Based on the voluminous Issir Armada’s logs and the now lost quartermaster Flucht’s diary, the majority of which the historian decoded whilst serving as the High Queen’s scribe. The original logs are locked in Midlanor’s ‘Grand Archive’ building. Veturius uncut draft allegedly is kept in Issir’s Eagle Royal Library. Only two other full copies exist in private hands.
-
Last week of Tertius
Spring of 194 NC
Scaldingport
(From ‘scalding hot port’ or just -o’ port- which was what Henk De Weer had called it)
-
One of the local captains mooring a twin-mast fishing Sloop saw the large Queen’s entourage coming down the Corsair’s Gold ramp, slapped his young son’s head and pointed at the knights’ armours. Then raised an arm to the sky above the large busy harbor at the old-raven flying towards Blackcrow’s Pillar. Bugs was returning to its nest and several crows that had gathered around the ship followed after its lead.
Gust snapped his head at a man approaching him coming down from another nearby ramp, but recognized the Last Privateer first and then her aged captain Elco Ardes. The Conrad, the other Barque and Ruud’s flagship moored next to it.
Axel Mudriver that was bringing his horse from the transport and Fiend, Mael’s old horse, now the Queen’s own, paused at Gust’s curt signal, just as the older Issir greeted him.
“By the Five!” Ardes cried out and paused himself unsure whether to salute or shake Gust’s hand. Since no arm was extended the Captain did neither. “Milord you’re back! And that rascal knight Sir Reuten also, hah! Ah, there is our mister Lode. Was at Tongue the other year for vacations and to take part in a hunt wit your cousin. Got a kill and all, but yer kin gave me a share that was more bones ‘n hooves than meat.”
“He’s no kin of mine,” Lode retorted in a gruff manner and went to get his horse, the rangers following after him.
“Eh,” Captain Ardes grimaced and glanced at the silent Elsanne. She was busy looking about the harbor.
“Why is the Conrad here?” Grunt asked rigidly and Ardes stood back with another glance at the other knights with him.
“Was at Castalor unloading ranged troops and our soldiers, but the Chamberlain ordered him and the soldiers’ right back. They arrived yesterday. The lads were looking pissed for getting the round trip with no break in between.”
Hmm.
“Boss? For what reason?” Gust queried thoughtfully.
It was another grunt and Elsanne chuckled seeing his expression.
“Insanity? How should I know? Ol’ Hubert is up there in years.” Ardes was only about six-seven years younger than the seventy year old Chamberlain.
“Axel we’re moving out of the harbor,” Gust ordered turning around, while the old Captain greeted some of the men he knew and inquired about those not present and there were many. Sir Koen Blooten, Sir Walter Roon, Sir Mael Bolte of course. That poor lad Gert Niveld. “Sir Jan I owe the Niveld family a horse for their service and a set of armour,” he told him.
“An open offer to serve Queen’s Own,” Elsanne added with a smile.
“Never heard of them,” Reuten admitted.
“They are from Hunter’s Cot. See you get it done after all this is over,” Gust grunted and Sir Jan nodded with a light smirk.
“Got all that Solt?” He asked his Cofol squire that had put some inches on and looked like a man and not that thieving boy now.
“As you wish sire,” Solt replied that same half-grin on his face.
Gust glared at the knight.
“Hey, he’s polite. Takes care of his betters and looks to learn,” Jan defended his style of teaching. “You do yours and I’ll do mine Lord Crow.”
“There’s one Lord Crow living in the Blackcrow’s Pillar,” Gust warned him and the knight of Colle sighed. The warning was for the others and not for him specifically.
Axel frowned and Gust turned his eyes on him but Elsanne cut in sounding tired.
“People are gathering and they don’t look pleased?”
“There’s warmth enough coming from the sea,” Gust rustled. “Don’t expect too much your Grace.”
Also there are lot of people missing on campaign for the locals to start celebrating.
“No parties?” Elsanne teased and Gust eyed the crowd that had noticed him stalling near the docks and the pirate ships unloading.
“There are parties and everything your grace,” Jan said afore Gust could reply. “Gust stayed with the monks for too long and sort of missed all that.”
Gust had a reason for it as a kid.
----------------------------------------
“I was trying to light up the mood,” Elsanne whispered half an hour later. They were riding up the gentle slope on the main road towards the city’s walls. While the harbor was a small city unto itself it had no walls protecting it. A lot of locals had opted living outside the walls, near the fields and port, the packed narrow streets and incline requiring patience to navigate. Reaching Blackcrow’s Pillar would bring them across the city’s center to the castle buildings and barracks that covered the whole north side of the plateau. Ruud could survive there for a year without coming down as everything needed to run it were inside the citadel.
And he did rarely leaving the castle grounds unless there was a reason for it. Most of the craftsmen had workshops inside the city proper as well and worked at them in the afternoons. Once the castle closed its gates, nobody was allowed in unless the Duke was informed or had signed off on it. Given that Ruud talked to no one after a certain hour or days of the month, people have stayed in the city for weeks at times afore he granted an audience. Most of the day-to-day matters of the Duchy were contacted through Forestfort, the rich large castle near Mudriver’s and Granlake’s waters, a hub of activity since the main road coming from Issir’s Eagle towards Riverdor utilized the nearby river bridge.
With Gust not interested in talking with merchants, Ruud had appointed Rik as its Lord, which got his brother out of the Duke’s legs as he used to say and kept him away from young Janneke whom Rik was very attached to.
No dirtier mind existed than his father’s.
“Gust?” Elsanne asked interrupting his thoughts.
“Umm.”
“I had better conversation with my cats,” Elsanne said with a pout. “And I never had a cat.”
Gust frowned at the bizarre turn of phrase and decided not to expound on it to avoid a misunderstanding.
“Is that the tower?” Elsanne asked some silent time later after they had entered the city from the main gates. Scaldingport had only one entry point so you had to wait there as well. Patience was a much needed commodity when dealing with Crows.
“That’s Tyeus tower. Them are the ordained disciples barracks to its east sides,” Gust replied eyeing the modest fortification adjacent to the walls. Nowhere near as impressive as Tyeus Tower in Asturia. Then again Asturia had temples for all gods, including Naossis and even a shrine to Luthos. “The Pillar is beyond the sandstone walls. When we reach the next road we’ll be higher and see it.”
“How do people move without horses and carriages?” Elsanne asked eyeing the crowd walking about the streets, animals mixed in and carts making the stops frequent for the large procession.
“They walk your grace,” Sir Wim Cramer of Castalor replied. They had asked the brave knight whether he wanted to return to Castalor but Cramer had opted to remain with the Queen ‘and get the job done the proper way.’
“Does it level out at some point?”
“Some at the top,” Gust replied.
“Do most people live there then?”
“The Duke does and the crows,” Gust said raspingly and glanced at the many birds watching them from the rooftops. Black beady eyes on both sides of the street. As many crows as people it seemed, but this was just an impression. Bugs had probably kicked everyone out of the top tower to enjoy his rest, Gust decided.
Caw.
CAW.
The crows responded talking to each other or mocking them.
“That’s a bit creepy,” Elsanne admitted. “Are they all used as messengers?”
“Not these crows,” Gust replied. “But you can never tell them apart. Sometimes they sneak inside the post office, take messages and leave stuff behind.”
“What stuff?” Sir Cramer asked suddenly interested in the topic.
“Where do they take the messages?” Elsanne inquired curious or eager to keep up the small talk.
“Umm,” Gust grunted having talked enough about the matter and stilled his eyes on the parapets first, then at Blackcrow’s Pillar. The large black and grey Crow banner billowing in the wind and a tiny Bugs seen landing at the top to watch their arrival.
Aye, Gust thought, suspicion confirmed.
Distrustful son of a bitch.
“Ruud is here,” he warned the men and the worried Elsanne. “Say as little as possible and take no offense whatever you may hear.”
----------------------------------------
Gust and his entourage rode at the iron gates of the Barbican and were stopped there by the sentries. Upon seeing him the sergeant-at-arms, a sturdy local named Don Fliers signaled the soldiers to allow them entry, but stood at the corridor afore the internal portcullis blocking their path.
“Long time no see milord,” Fliers said. “Would everyone present require entrance to the Keep?”
Gust stooped over his horse’s head and eyed the armed veteran warningly.
“He told you to stall us,” he rustled clenching his jaw. “I’m about to dig the spurs into the horse’s belly and run you over.”
Fliers pressed his mouth tightly and worked his tongue under his teeth. “The order came from Boss.”
“No it didn’t,” Gust spat and dug his heels to get the horse moving. Fliers stepped aside with a grimace.
“Milord, Sir De Braal is waiting by the gates,” he warned.
“Umm,” Gust murmured not turning around and headed for the tower, one after the other everyone coming after him with Axel guiding Elsanne’s horse through the dark corridor.
They crossed the large yard of the castle, some of the workshops open and busy, several civilians present to contact business or wait for an audience with the Chamberlain. Hubert Boss was even slower in these matters than Ruud. They passed the stables at a slow trot, the horses’ hooves striking the paved ground rowdily and skirted the small garden before the springs. His mother used to spend her free time there while she was still breathing. Not soon after they reached Blackcrow Pillar’s imposing walls. The tower’s shadow heavy and blocking the sun partially.
“Gust,” Elsanne said when he stopped and climbed down from his horse. A brown and white destrier, with some name or other. He paused and waved for her to relax.
“I’ll straighten this out,” Gust assured her.
“Maybe we try to be more diplomatic?” Elsanne noted with a glare. “We are not the ones walking on pins and needles.”
Gust watched a knight sitting on the wooden couch next to the sentry guarding the Hall’s entrance stand up slowly. The old Shield had a plate cuirass on, with a sleeved chainmail shirt underneath it that reached his hips. De Braal’s face sporting even more dark spots and wrinkles, his white goatee untrimmed. The Shield angled his head a bit to stare at the men behind Gust in silence.
“Let me talk to him,” Gust told the nervous Queen and Elsanne sighed glancing at the fanning his face sweaty Eunuch.
“You know them Sir Stefan,” Gust started turning to the Duke’s right hand man.
“Not everyone, I don’t.” De Braal replied, his voice hoarse. “Is that young Klaas wearing fancy armour?”
“Sir Klaas,” Gust grunted. “Was knighted by the Queen herself.”
De Braal nodded and brushed his thinning white hair back with a gloved hand.
“Ain’t that a tale worthy of a recite or two,” he rustled with a hint of razz. “Did you tell him he can’t have any kids?”
“I’m going inside,” Gust growled and moved towards the gates.
“I have twenty men behind that door,” De Braal said stopping him, hand dropping to his sword’s handle. “Another score up on them roofs with crossbows. Two roads ahead of us way I see it. Not all of you are going inside the first or none of you shall the other. What would it be Sir Gust?”
Gust licked his lips. Trust Ruud to push a man to murder so he can get as much leverage as he could in a later conversation. “Myself and my squire. The Queen and her servant. The knights stay and your men walk back to their barracks,” Gust sucked air in through the nose deeply afore adding sternly. “Or they’ll never walk again. Starting with you.”
De Braal scratched the underside of his chin, fingers digging in the goatee and then nodded.
“Your Grace, welcome to Blackcrow’s Hall,” he told Elsanne and raised both thick brows when she climbed down from Fiend lithely. The Queen was still wearing her leather pants under the purple-colored light cloak.
“We appreciate your hospitality Sir De Braal,” Elsanne replied diplomatically.
“Let’s not use such big words yet your grace. This isn’t my Hall,” the Shield counseled and turned around to walk through the opening doors. The guards standing behind them returning to attention.
Gust grunted and went after the briskly walking aged Shield.
-
IB
-A crow’s dreams-
-
There were crows eating the remnants of a breakfast served on the large conference table. The Old Crow though was perched on his throne, hands clasped at the armrests and stooped forward to better see them. While many candles were burning inside the Hall, a semi-darkness creeped up on various spots, the gleam of old weapons and shields on its walls fighting it. The atmosphere suffocating but clearing a bit when the doors opened briefly to grant them entry.
“There he is then,” his father greeted them in that unpleasant snarly voice, squinting his eyes. “Our brave knight returns finally, the girl in tow and his quest successful.” He grimaced at that. “Eh, sort of… bah, who are we kidding um? Those slanted-eyed bastards are a couple of days away from Scaldingport! That right Stefan?”
“That would be correct my Lord,” De Braal replied stiffly.
Ruud pursed his mouth and stood back on his stone throne. “Had to ride there myself to sort the mess out.”
Gust made to speak but he paused hearing commotion.
A man entered anxiously from a side door, still trying to fix his redingote, with Hubert Boss following right after him, using a cane to keep up with the younger man. Ruud glanced their way faking frustration. Gust grinded his teeth to avoid a scene in front of the Queen.
A good first impression was always a mere fantasy.
“Ah,” Ruud said smacking his pale lips. “The herald woke up! Come Dom Toburg. Announce our guests please! You are making us look bad here lad. Waltzing in here with cock dangling out and all!”
“It’s Tom Doburg my Lord Duke,” the fretful Herald grumbled.
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“She doesn’t give a shit. Nobody knows you lad,” Ruud admonished him and glanced at the placid Elsanne appreciatively as if to belatedly seek her approval. “I heard you fancy a risqué word or two your Excellency. Is it Princess Heiress now? Queen… presumptive?” He paused seeing Gust’s face turning a darker shade of dark with anger. “My-my. Well then. Speak Lombruk! I’ve precious little time left and yer wasting it lad.”
“Ahem…eh, Sir Gust…” the Herald started.
“Him we know son, speed it up,” Ruud commented with an annoying chuckle.
“Her Excellency Queen Elsanne Eikenaar,” Tom mumbled crumbling under the pressure and tearing up.
Elsanne nodded. “Nice to meet you again Grand Duke,” she said reservedly but dignified. Ruud sucked his lips in and eyed her unsure. Then glanced at his Chamberlain. “Toss him in the dungeons,” he ordered. “For insulting the Queen.”
His eyes had snapped back and never left Elsanne’s face.
Taunting.
The Queen said nothing and Tom was led away by an approaching guard.
“Father if I may,” Gust intervened to cut into his theatrics.
“I came as soon as I heard you might return,” Ruud said interrupting him instead and Gust stood back clenching his jaw. “Time just flies away.” He stared at the nibbling crows for a moment. “Rik got your sister out and the kids. It was a close call.”
Elsanne inhaled sharply at his words.
You manipulative son of a bitch, Gust cursed glaring at him but had to play along.
“I’m glad they are alright,” he groused through his teeth.
“Of course. She’s your little sister. I sent your brother to help her immediately,” Ruud continued and sighed sadly. “Your Excellency I’ll have them clear the table so we can sit. You can take the head of course.”
“We appreciate it Grand Duke,” Elsanne replied and Ruud narrowed his eyes suspiciously but then nodded curtly. He signaled for the men waiting to clear the table. The crows all but rioted at the disturbance.
CAW
CAW
“They’ll feed them outside,” Ruud explained and managed to stand up from his throne slowly. The armour he had on weighing him down.
And age, Gust realized. His father was a very old man.
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While they settled on the chairs of the large conference table, after the Duke’s servants had cleared it and left the room, no one said anything. The uncomfortable silence grew heavier by the minute until the crows returned through the opening. First a couple of them, just standing at the lip and staring at the large Hall from above and then about a dozen more that flew inside finding their own spots on the full sets of armour decorating the gloomy chamber.
Elsanne had taken the head of the table with Ruud sitting at the other end of it, De Braal and Hubert Boss on his right and left. Jasi went to sit on the right side of the Queen and Gust pulled a chair out and sat on her left. Axel remained standing near Gust with sergeant Don Fliers who had just returned from the city gates standing near the Duke’s Shield as well. The sergeant had reported that everyone had been settled to the guests’ hall and their horses watered at the stables.
“Lord Bach asked for an audience,” Fliers added wrapping up his report to the Duke.
“Which Bach is that?” Ruud asked.
“The Baron sire. He was delayed looking for news of his family.”
“Umm,” Ruud said. “Did his brother made it out?”
“His brother is dead sire. That would be his son the Mayor and no he didn’t, but his wife and daughter are in Scaldingport.”
Ruud grimaced. “Let’s ask the raven,” he decided vaguely.
The expression meant Sigurd wouldn’t get an audience anytime soon or ever.
“Yes sire.”
His father turned to look at Gust’s sour expression. The mention of Lady Petra had brought a burning sensation to the hale knight’s stomach. “The poor woman asked to get out of the besieged city. I had to help her,” Ruud defended his actions mostly for those not familiar with the history.
Unfortunately for him and Gust, pretty much everyone in the room knew but for Axel who had probably no idea what they were talking about, hailing as he was from Mudriver.
“What about Sir Reuten’s sisters?” Gust grunted.
“Femke caught a nasty fever in the winter,” Ruud retorted and Gust’s clenched his fist on the table. “Didn’t make it. Sonja has found a man in Castalor.”
“Allegedly my lord,” De Braal noted.
“Hey, I know what I saw,” Ruud argued and glanced knowingly at both the angry Gust and the silent Elsanne. “Having said that I’d like to hear your grace’s opinion on our situation.”
“Will Castalor hold?” Elsanne asked readily.
Ruud looked about the room for anyone not supposed to be present and then his eyes returned on Jasi and Axel. “Are you a painter perchance lad? One of them poofter artists?” He asked the aloof Jasi. “Your face is all messed up, hmm?”
“Jasi was a slave to the Khanate for years. Learned of different ways,” Elsanne explained. “He’s a Eunuch.”
De Braal eyed the Queen’s advisor unsure with the sleepy Hubert, the chamberlain had rested his chin on both hands that were gripping the cane, perking up at her words. Ruud being the least diplomatic of them all.
“You like taking the long pipe up the arse lad?” He asked with a smirk and Jasi glared at the Duke, a shocked Elsanne glancing towards the seething Gust. “Hey, don’t turn on me!” Ruud protested. “It’s a fucking expression for crying out loud. Ye don’t have to play the maiden with us your grace. It means taking a cock—”
“Ruud!” An irate Gust barked and stood up abruptly, armour and sword handle banging on the table, the chair clattering down behind him. “That is enough!”
His father didn’t even blink at his outburst. “The Khan cleared out the navy,” the old Duke said measuring his words warningly. “Has army ready to march on Issir’s Eagle or anywhere near a port and here we are playing blushing brides, freshly retired from the brothels. Stay in your place boy!” He hissed at the approaching livid Gust. “Else I’ll kill them all.”
Gust blinked nervously then casted his eyes on De Braal that hadn’t moved and the warry sergeant Fliers.
“You’ll have to kill me first,” a serious Gust told the grumbling in frustration at what he had to deal with old Duke.
“Just fucking plant your arse down and stop behaving like a jealous cunt. What? Am I wrong?” Ruud taunted. “Hearing the whispers was one thing. Witnessing you like this makes me sick to the stomach.”
“Lord Ruud,” Elsanne said frostily getting up herself. “What are you trying to do here?”
“I’m talking candidly your grace,” Ruud retorted with a glare. “People are angry, cities are ruined, the war is spreading and the realm is going to all-hells riding on a fast horse.” He scrunched his scrawny face even more, closely shaved cheeks covered in lines and dark spots. “Will Castalor hold you asked,” the Duke continued. “Not without the Navy it won’t. Sure we may push them back and away from the walls if we commit on the morrow, but then they might come for the bridge over Boar River and shaft us in the nether regions. I rather they didn’t. Poking our way while we are distracted could be too painful.”
“Where would you have them go Lord Ruud?” A flushed Elsanne asked him coolly.
“Myself? To all-hells or back into their mothers’ nasty wombs, but me opinion matters not as they’ll head for Issir’s Eagle for sure. Unless we give them reason not to,” Ruud replied and reached for a towel to wipe his mouth. “Hence winning here is of little significance in the larger scheme of things if Anker fuck’s it all up.”
“Lord Anker is not a fool in these matters,” Gust noted.
“Lord Anker allowed Antoon and the senile buffoon from Riverdor to dictate how the war will be fought,” Ruud retorted not convinced. “A half-hearted attempt to save Rida that went tits up and then squandering the landings in that frozen fuckhole that is Yue-Tu by giving the lead to the two brain-dead knights Sir Ton and Sir Thor, so they could fuck it up even more! Those stupid retards didn’t even manage to kill themselves proper! They might even get command again gods helps us!”
The Duke stood back on his chair a bitter and pained expression on his face. He sucked air in a couple of times to recover and then puffed it all out. “Family is ruinous if they are just a bunch of differently named idiots. A kingdom ruled by a fool surrounded by stooges or conservative ninny-hammers can’t win shite, unless they have a wyvern to their beck and call I suppose. But even that isn’t always enough. When a wound turns bad ye run a hot blade over it and cut deep. No half-measures. You mess that up in a hunt you lose an arm. Do it when in a war and it’s yer head hitting the gravel.”
Gust grabbed his chair and brought it near the table again.
“Can’t we salvage the situation at sea?” Elsanne asked serenely startling them and even Ruud blinked not expecting her query. “Take advantage was our meaning. The Khanate surely lost a lot of ships if our losses were so grave.”
Ruud rapped his fingers on the table with a glance at the scowling Gust.
Yeah, she’s smart, Gust’s eyes told him. Unlike her brother.
She just needs time and to learn navigating the nastier stuff.
Like you.
“We can’t commit our navy,” Ruud started thoughtfully. “Castalor needs support to stay in the fight. We also rotate soldiers in and out from the harbor. It keeps Lord Putra fixed there and allow us to sort of move.”
“I could use the pirate fleet to strike at Deadmen’s Watch,” Elsanne expounded.
“Can they land there?” Ruud asked now interested.
“A raid on their transports.”
“Their fleet might come down towards the Straits,” De Braal intervened after clearing his throat. “Your grace.”
“I think they’ll head to Colle or Issir’s Eagle,” Elsanne said calmly.
“You still want us to commit on an attack on Lord Putra?” Ruud asked her.
“Would you rather march against the Khan our dear Duke?”
Ah, don’t antagonize him now, Gust thought nervously and watched his father counting the pros and cons of a snarky reply to her slight taunt.
“Anker declared your nephew a king,” Ruud said and removed the glove from his right hand. Two of the fingers bandaged under it that could barely move. “The bulk of your support on Jelin are three cities. One ruined, the other besieged and the third you just smart-mouthed.”
“Robert Van Durren stands with us and is on his way here with the First Foot,” Elsanne reminded him not falling for his trap. The Duke had done plenty of insulting himself.
“Part of the First Foot,” Ruud countered. “And Robert is Lord of no lands at this point. Though I don’t how that cunt Charles can skirt around his claim on Badum. One would argue he could challenge him for the whole fucking thing heh-heh. Hmm,” the old Duke pursed his mouth pleased.
Gust tensed up unwittingly.
“You must pen a letter to Anker,” Ruud started looking at her. “Tell him to withdraw and leave the capital to the Khan. Don’t fight him now under pressure for a result. Consolidate his forces properly and wait for him to come out, while gathering what navy that fool Rinus has left and try again with eyes open this time. The Horselords didn’t just turn into masters of the seas out of the fucking blue!”
“You want me to ask him to abandon thousands of people to the Khan?” Elsanne hissed losing her temper. Eh, Gust thought worried. Ruud has found out you’re soft-hearted. He wasn’t sure afore but now he is.
“Most would leave surely,” Ruud said to soften it, the leer formed on his mouth tarnishing the effect of his words.
“There are over two hundred thousand people in Issir’s Eagle. Another hundred thousand living close to the capital,” Elsanne snapped getting worked up and clenching both fists down her sides. “What Queen would make that decision and hope to stay on the throne? Anker could use the letter to ruin me!”
“He’s already trying. But to answer yer query, a practical one. You’ve taken the throne in your words already. Didn’t you think about any of that?”
“Why give the Khan another port?” Gust grunted to help her, not liking seeing Elsanne suffering in her attempt to see through the Old Crow’s brutal logic.
The Duke had already set his plan in motion. This was all theater for him. Ruud was trying to gauge what he had to work with.
Being soft wouldn’t cut it in the Old Crows eyes.
Ruud glanced his way a little peeved understanding what Gust was doing. “To spread him out.” He finally explained. “Let’s see him trying to feed more than a hundred thousand slaves. He’ll want to control both ports. The fucking capital! What a prize huh? That’s a lot of ground to cover even for a horse-moving army. Surely you understand what he’s trying to do?”
He glanced at De Braal and the sober Shield got up to bring a map of the coast to them.
“Lord Anker won’t agree,” Elsanne said and Ruud sighed pensively.
“Anker isn’t on your side. He made his move already. Think him as fodder to wear out the Khan’s forces.” Ruud paused to consider whether he should say more. “Not everyone will be saved and the past will be difficult to return your grace. But if Burzin reaches the plains or conquers the whole coast we’ll never dislodge him. You need to protect the shrines, fuck the capital. Them you can’t lose and Anker has them now.”
Gust stood back while De Braal returned with an old leather large map of Jelin. He started unfurling it on the table and it covered most of it with the edges hanging. The height almost four meters.
“Flucht painted it with the help of Lorians and Northmen after we settled down. Henk took it with him as compensation,” Ruud told them as they all -but him- stood to examine the map closely. “No fancy swords or armour for our ancestor. He wanted to know the realm ahead of him. Know the land, know the man. Burzin is aiming for the open plains and he can be stopped at the Red Bridge if the navy recovers.”
“What if it doesn’t?” Elsanne asked him.
“He’ll come down for us from two fronts. Try again for Boar River and brave the terrain at Mudriver to get to Riverdor or here I suppose.”
“I can’t write that letter,” Elsanne said hoarsely.
“I counsel you to reconsider while ye still can,” Ruud told her. “Else the war might take the choice from us.”
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Ruud ended the meeting shortly after, but asked Gust to stay for a moment longer while Elsanne and the others moved to their quarters inside the large tower following the slow-moving Hubert Boss. The Duke had given her the third floor bedrooms that had the most windows and it was where Janneke used to sleep. The quarters underneath it belonged to his mother, but Ruud spent his time on the larger first floor mostly after his advanced age started slowing him down.
“Leave the map,” Ruud told Fliers who was about to depart as well. “De Braal you bring us some of the good wine. Not that sweet shit from Aegium. The stronger stuff.”
“Axel wait outside,” Gust ordered and his father glanced at the solemn-faced squire for a moment.
“You’re too old to be a squire,” the Duke noticed. “Yet that’s a good steel blade you’re carrying.”
“He was with Sir Blooten,” Gust replied and signaled for Axel to leave them. Ruud stopped him raising his un-gloved hand.
“Do I know ye from somewhere lad?” He asked Axel and the usually sturdy man appeared quite rattled for a moment. “Let him speak Gust.”
“I was raised near Mudriver sire,” Axel replied biting at the inside of his mouth.
“The fishing settlements?” Ruud asked squinting his old eyes to better see him. Gust frowned not understanding what had prompted his father’s interest.
“The town.”
“Forestfort? Within the walls? Why not say so?” Ruud admonished him. “Yer mother slept around, didn’t she? That why ye picked up the moniker?”
Axel narrowed his eyes but nodded in visible discomfort.
“Left ye coin though eh?” Ruud chuckled and pushed back on his chair. “Must have done a good job heh-heh.”
He glanced at the sober Gust. “Is he any good?”
“Saved my life on Eplas,” Gust grunted.
“Hmm.” Ruud looked at the shaking Axel for a moment. “Must have been mistaken then. Old eyes and mind errs on faces. You may go lad. See to not take offense in your situation for there are worse fates than being a bastard. Like being a useless bastard which you are not. And it’s better to have a whoring mother who provides for you than no mother at all.”
Even better to have a good father, Gust thought sourly watching Axel walking away with his head hanging.
“Mael?” His father asked when Axel had left them and pointed at Gust’s sword.
“Killed in Eikenport.”
Ruud nodded. “Are you fucking her?” He asked bluntly and Gust tensed up.
“That’s none of your business,” the knight grunted getting all worked up.
“People think she’s married to a Cofol/Horselord Prince,” Ruud said unperturbed at his annoyance. “Anker will use it or maybe the Khan will,” his father continued. “Did she fuck the Prince? Any offspring?”
Gust didn’t want to think about that. The knight closed his eyes, feeling his heart beating wildly inside his chest.
“No kids,” he rustled hoarsely.
“Is she barren?”
“Ruud!” Gust snapped furious.
“What? It’s a legitimate question,” the Duke grimaced and scratched a wrinkled cheek with a bandaged finger. “We can’t afford mistakes son.”
“She is not a mistake!” Gust growled and Ruud pointed at the cups De Braal had brought them.
“Have some wine. Sit down, my neck is hurting in the effort to stare at you. It numbs and then I can’t sleep.”
A puffing out Gust returned noisily to his chair.
“We could control the west edges of the Scalding Sea to Eikenport. Wetull is open and brings good stuff here. Taste the wine,” Ruud continued after he settled down again and grabbed his wine with a fist tight enough to bend the silver engraved bronze goblet a bit. He sipped at the aromatic red wine next and blinked. The taste strong but pleasant. “We kicked Flauegran right in the gonads with this. Comes in three flavors and several colors. Red, black, Rose…” He glanced at De Braal questioningly.
“White and a sparkly one sire.”
“Sparkly?” Gust grunted.
“Some fancy water in the mix or some other Zilan bullshit,” Ruud explained. “Men will turn rich from this and the realm is playing war games. Bunch of fools.”
“Elsanne will be a good Queen,” Gust said with difficulty changing the subject.
“Hmm. I wrote to Anker that we have our hands full with Lord Putra,” Ruud told him and pushed the goblet away without tasting it. “Makes me dizzy,” he explained.
“You wrote… what did he say?”
“Nothing. He’ll talk about it though. The news will spread, people will become desperate and take it upon themselves to save the nation,” Ruud replied indifferently. “When the dust settles we’ll pick their bones clean.”
“She’ll never agree to that.”
“Well, you’ll convince her,” Ruud argued. “Use yer… influence to keep her sated and docile. It’s in her nature. Probably living with the Horselords this got reinforced even more—”
“You don’t know her,” Gust growled and smashed his goblet on the table. The goblet cracking and then coming apart in three pieces. Much of the spillage dropping on the map.
“Well that was an expensive outburst,” Ruud decided with a weary sigh. “Stefan bring a towel to gather the worst of it and sent it to that kid to repair what he can. See that he gets the names right and say it’s a historic relic to charge you less. He’s a patriot.”
“She’s not like that at all,” Gust snapped with a grunt and got up abruptly, tossing the broken pieces away in the blind. One of his gloves cut at the palm and the crows flying about disturbed at the loud noise when two of the larger pieces struck a full set of armour, knocking a steel helm clattering down.
“I don’t believe our knight is on board sire,” the busy wiping the wine away from the half-ruined map aged Shield noted.
“Why do you think that is?” A perturbed Ruud asked with a grimace looking at the seething Gust.
“He always had feelings for the princess sire. I know it's difficult to fathom. It’s like a fever but it can last.”
Gust glared at him.
“Well then. There’s a blasted road not considered,” his father ruminated and rubbed at his forearm troubled. “I’ll admit this is awkward. Let me rethink the matter some Gust and we’ll discuss it later.”
“There’s nothing to discuss!” An angry Gust grunted and grinding his teeth marched out of the hall.
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A livid Gust burst out of the tower and marched without purpose towards the stables not talking to anyone recognizing him. Most didn’t insist in pestering the knight that reached the stables and stood in the shade inside the entrance, a guard talking with a disciple of Tyeus, fully armed under his grey robes. Gust didn’t know him but as his black eyes settled on Fiend, he recognized the old knight standing next to the large warhorse.
The grey hooded robes parting in the middle to show his polished plate armour and the engraved crow holding a spear. Another two small spears the size of a finger, these crossed and hanging from a silver pendant from the knight’s neck. Gust had a similar pendant under his armour.
“You brought the horse back. A good knight takes care of his business small or big,” Sir Mart Nootveld said matter-of-factly. “Still that is quite surprising,” the Second Disciple of Tyeus added. First now after Sir Mael’s demise, Gust supposed.
“The Queen rode it,” Gust grunted pressing his mouth tight. “I have his sword and his words.”
He reached into a pocket for Mael’s personal diary and found it, some blood still on it but in good condition. After a thoughtful moment he offered it to Sir Nootveld and the man took it carefully. With a brief glance at the late knight’s scribblings, he placed it inside a satchel he carried under the robes. Gust went to untie his scabbard but Mart stopped him with a gesture.
“I’ll give it to young Daan,” he explained.
“Daan is with the Order,” Sir Nootveld said. “Took him in when his mother died. It’s been three years now.”
Gust nodded and stared at the sword. “He should have his uncle’s blade.”
“Daan can’t carry Sir Mael’s sword brother Gust. One day perhaps but not now. We’ll find proper weapons for him,” Sir Nootveld replied calmly. “But you can. Had Mael not wanted you to have it he would have told you so. And you wouldn’t have asked me.”
Gust grimaced but the ordained knight was right.
“I’ll sleep in the barracks,” he said after a moment of silent contemplation.
“You can come and train, but you are a priest no more,” Sir Nootveld said and raised his arm to calm him down. “The Duke’s son Sir Gust can busy himself only so much with the Order. Eventually other duties shall call him away.”
Gust stood back getting emotional all of a sudden. It angered him this weakness and he had to look away. This was his whole childhood. He had grew up with these men, trying to match their toughness and be bigger than he was.
“You didn’t go with the Duke,” Gust said after a moment.
“The Duke respects no god but the one your Raven whispers about,” Sir Nootveld replied soberly.
“What god is that?”
“The Others. Nobody knows for old-ravens rarely share.”
“I intent to support Elsanne’s bid for the throne,” Gust said a little defensively and Sir Nootveld scratched the bridge of that crooked nose of his with a finger afore replying with a rare smile.
“What little the Order can offer shall provide to our own Raven,” the priest of Tyeus said simply.
Gust grunted and stared at Fiend’s head, the horse snorting his way.
“Did Bolte had a good death?” Sir Nootveld asked apologetically. “I’d like to complete the record he left behind.”
Gust nodded. “Aye. Went out fighting until he could fight no more.”
“Praise be the mighty warrior God,” Sir Nootveld chanted soberly with a satisfied bob of his balding head. “For he cuts down friends and foes without sentiment. There is naught of that in the field. But one can seek it after the pyres are extinguished in remembrance.”
“In blood sodden ‘n burned funeral rocks, brittle broken ‘n black bones” Gust ended the quick prayer bowing his head as well. “And in the well-sharpened steel blade’s edge that wears its marks like memories of past struggles.”
“Praise be Tyeus,” Sir Nootveld added somberly and touched the spears on his pendant. “May he affords us the same courtesy, but only if we’re worthy.”
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That night Gust slept outside Elsanne’s quarters’ door, keeping company for part of the night to Sir Klaas. The young Queen-to-be wasn’t happy about it but kept a clear head given all that she had on her mind after the meeting with the Old Crow.
Gust’s dreams were earnest for the most part but had some shining moments amidst the bleaker ones. Like past hunts and training with the Order when he was younger. Digging his mother’s garden but also praying over her lifeless corpse in the guts of Blackcrow’s Pillar. Past insults and Mael’s words of caution.
A fool can pick up a blade and fight, win even. A ruthless warrior shall always hold advantage enough bravery can counter, to a point. But it is the penitent man the good Gods shall listen to.
Not always followed.
The Raven says what it wants priest, Gust had told the late knight and mentor. When it wants it.
Dreamed of the Princess of Kaltha.
There’s a blasted road, a younger version of old Ruud had told him. It may be narrow. It may be long. But eventually a road shall take you where you want to go.
Gust’s heart always knew where he wanted to be.
Near dawn the old-raven came into his dreams, tall as the knight and showed Gust a piece of wrapped bloody armour. The warspear still lodged in it but its shaft unbroken.
Blood makes the grip difficult to maintain even if it’s your own, a different Bugs in his dream had told him its beady eyes stare unblinking. And a fancy silver mask is not as sturdy as a helmet.
Gust had no idea what the Raven meant to say but it offered him one last piece of advice just the same, for Gust had been a true friend for years.
Better to have ruined armour on, the Bugs of his dreams cautioned him channeling late Mael. Than no armour at all. Be it whence in a wedding’s joyful celebration or attending a funeral’s vulgar songs.
-
> The first week of the second month of spring, the year of the New Calendar 194, High Baron Dan AredRavn of Farvor & Pastelor who had moved out of Farvor with four hundred soldiers and fifty horse caught up with the High Regent and Sir Tellman (with the rest of the Baronship’s forces) outside Sessi Fort in the expansive Kaltha Plains. Lord Anker had stalled there for two weeks trying to get the Third Foot moving (around four thousand soldiers and three hundred Cavalry) under Sir Ton Van De Aesst and Sir Thor Est Ravn. He used the time to communicate with Lord Rinus at Caspo O’ Bor about the aftermath of the clash at the Shallow Straits.
>
> With more details emerging after the return of the surviving flotilla under Commodore Stenden aboard Hesper (eleven ships with those that had been left at Atri), the size of the disaster became apparent.
>
> Lieutenant Oliver Svane who had remained in camp as Lord Rinus liaison gave them valuable insight on the condition of both fleets. The junior officer (on his final year in the naval academy then) managed to make an impressive presentation, gathering information from all the accounts and reports they had received. Given the sizes of the fleets at the start of the engagement and the fact that the Khanate would have used the bulk of its force there, the navy Lieutenant surmised Osahar had kept few warships with the transports at Colle.
>
> He based this on the inability of the Khanate to dare the Krakentrap Straits and attempt to blockade Castalor’s port. ‘If they can’t overcome twenty lesser warships my lords,’ lieutenant Svane suggested ‘then they don’t have much more that what we’ve faced already. The hundred plus ships seen in Colle naught but transports.’ Svane believed that Admiral Osahar operated the Khanate’s Fleet with minimum escorts as demonstrated by the earlier scrap at Duck’s Head when they had retreated promptly.
>
> According to him Binra-Kot while victorious didn’t have more than twenty warships left at most. With the Khanate’s naval yards and bases a realm away (about a six month journey but only whilst the northern Ice Route was open) Kaltha could out-produce the Khan’s war machine and put a capable number of ships in the water to defeat Binra-Kot in a future engagement. ‘It may be possible with what we have available right now’ (around eighteen warships) the lieutenant finished. ‘If costly mistakes are avoided and indecision is rooted out of the ranks.’
>
> According to him if the whole fleet had closed with Binra-Kot (enduring the barrage) and not attempted to break away, the Khanate battle-line would have collapsed. In a looser engagement the nimbler Issir warships would have prevailed. While the losses could have been as high in this case, Svane was certain the Horselord Admiral’s win couldn’t be repeated without the element of surprise.
>
> Kannon Stenden’s and Oliver Svane’s completely different views of the great naval battle would create two schools of thought in the decades that followed influencing Jelin’s approach on naval warfare. The traditional fast, spirited and nimble fleet proponents (favored by Svane) that gained traction initially and the standoffish, overwhelming firepower doctrine based around even bigger ships (favored by Stenden) that didn’t, because it lacked a devastating weapon thought lost in history.
>
> Lord Anker’s communications yielded few results out of the procrastinating Duke Charles at Riverdor but he did receive a response from Duke Ruud De Weer. The Old Crow sympathized with the plight of ‘fellow countrymen’ but admitted he was facing trouble holding ‘the turds in’ against Lord Putra’s advance and trying to keep Castalor from falling. He advised Lord Anker to break with the Khan’s forces and prepare a defense line before Quarterport and Red Bridge near Crimson Forest. ‘Wait them there,’ Ruud suggested ‘between Chinos and Balworth Rivers and I’ll come out of Mudriver when Charles arrives to block them between the lakes.’
>
> In the heated discussion that followed Lord Ruud’s long letter several prominent people found merit in the suggestion but pointed at the humanitarian and political cost of losing the capital whilst having the forces to defend it. While in reality and with the departure of the Royal Guard, only Sir Mark’s and Sir Luke’s force was between the Khan and Issir’s Eagle, it wasn’t easy for Lord Anker to order something so distasteful after a humiliating defeat.
>
> The second reason Lord Anker was uncertain none other than the author of the plan. The Old Crow leaned towards Princess Elsanne’s claim and even if he stayed out, Ruud hadn’t supported young Antoon at all. Anker feared a play where he would get the blame (and by extension the baby king). The High Regent stalled under heavy pressure from the conservatives of his entourage, the younger Lords that were eager for a faceoff with the Khan’s army and Sir Tellman’s fiery daughter Lady Siske that berated the miserable sight ‘of great men paralyzed by fear’ despite her father’s desperate attempts to keep her out of it.
>
> Sir Thor wrote immediately to his brother Mark who was bringing up the rear of the Second Foot towards Sir Luke AredRavn to inform him that ‘they are talking of abandoning the capital.’ A worried Mark rode ahead of the rearguard and reached Sir Luke that same afternoon. The two distant kin discussed their options and exchanged intelligence on the moves of Khan’s still gathered around Colle large army. While Lord Anker informed everyone they’ll have his decision by the time they reached the junction leading west to Edge Castle peninsula and south to the bridge over Makolal Rill near Quarterport, his firstborn son along with Sir Luke decided to ambush the Khan’s advancing army.
>
> ‘All is needed is bravery and justness of cause. We won’t find another example where both were truer,’ Mark wrote to his brother a day later.
>
> Their plan was to strike at the Horselords nine kilometers from the once major trade hub of Colle, right at the border of East and North Greenforest, on the fertile lowlands under the shade of the great Boar Mountain, and an opening where major road arteries converged. The north coastal road coming from Jaw Castle, the main east road coming from Issir’s Eagle and the south road leading to Boar Horn’s River.
>
> The locals had given this place a rather uninspired name...
>
>
>
> They called it the ‘Three Roads’.
>
>