----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Lucius Alden,
‘Bloody Tiger’
Lord Lucius Aldenus the third,
Praetor Maximus,
Legatus ‘Omnis Legionis’
King Lucius III
Al’Den **
Part I
-The crypt-
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
-
>
>
> The Alden Kings
>
> (Aldenus bloodline)
>
>
>
> Laran ‘the Wrathful’ -109 to -88 OC
>
> Cyprian ‘the Enlightened’ -88 to -56(?) OC
>
> Remus ‘the Brute’ -56(?) to -26 OC
>
> Lucius I Aldenus ‘Caesar Augustus’ or Magnus –
>
> Reigned from -26 OC* to 24 NC
>
> (First in Alden but eventually moved the capital to Cartagen around 10 NC)
>
> Caius Aldenus ‘the Unlucky’ – from 24 to 29 NC
>
> ***Titus Alden ‘the Bawdy’ – from 29 to 65 NC
>
> Lucius II Alden ‘the Pius’– from 65 to 89 NC
>
> Ralph Alden ‘the Builder’–from 89/90 to 108 NC
>
> Jeremy Alden ‘the Poet’ – from 108 to 136 NC
>
> Titus II Alden ‘the Dull’– from 136 to 153 NC
>
> Alistair Alden ‘the Stalwart Tiger’ – from 153 to 190 NC
>
> Jeremy II Alden ‘the Lacking’ – from 190 to 194 NC
>
> ****Lucius III Aldenus ‘the Bloody Tiger’ -from 193 to
-
> *OC and NC. Old and New Calendar. The time before the new calendar was usually given for example ‘two hundred years prior’ or by just using the minus symbol before the number. Due to this fact the unbroken Imperial Calendar dates are more accurate. Alas many of the events dealing with the ancient migrations on Jelin observed by the Zilan and written down are now lost or reduced to cryptic phrases next to certain dates. For instance ‘at the end of the Age of Bronze the uncouth Lorians came’ or at an even earlier date ‘when the great ice melted and the land split apart Jarl Anundr (meaning Victor in ancient Nord) allied with his enemy Jarl Durfen Coalthane (meaning the Entitled in the Folk language) to rid the land of the Giants, but while successful their alliance didn’t last.’
>
> **from All Dens (the local plains name) in jargon and a wordplay on the Aldenus family name that derives from the archaic Lorian ‘a-danis’ which means ‘those building castles’.
>
> **the Lorians didn’t use superlative adjectives for their rulers from the Common Tongue but the Archaic. (Augustus, Maximus, Magnus etc.) Some ancient names of older Gods like Laran (A war Deity, also an alternative name of Tyeus later and probably the origin of the name Lorian) slowly died out as people stopped using them.
>
> ***King Titus the First, who had grown up in Aegium (a man of many vices) controversially attempted to turn Aegium into another Valeria ‘of the salted waters’ inviting there the famed ‘Muse of Beauty’ Augusta Leda, and then allowing the priestess of Naossis to build a temple to spread the worship of the most divisive of the Five Deities to the coast. The fledging port of Novesium was the most influenced by this during his reign. Both the Illirium priests who were always wary of the scandalous connection between the goddess and her ancestor (or father) Abrakas (a god of the old religions), but also the conservative Tyeus-loving Demames, eventually revolted causing great tension for him. His heir Lucius the 2nd cut back on the lewdness that had ensued but Naossis’ influence on the city remained along the rich island Temple’s longing for a return to status.
>
> **** Also officially addressed as Praetor Maximus (when in camp), High Dictat of the Triads (3 seas & 3 coasts) in royal texts, King of Greater Regia, Liger Hominis Panthera Divinus (from the priesthood of Panthera). Numerus unofficial monikers circulating in the army and within the populace like ‘Lucius Tertius’ (from the 3rd month but eventually people started using Lucius outright) ‘the Legatus’, ‘Allgods keep Him’ and the divisive ‘Lord Justice’.
>
>
-
Eighteen Months Offensive
28th of Quartus (2nd of Spring, Canatya) 194,
Code named -18 plus 17-
Campaign Day 479
Road near wooded area parallel to Old Maiden’s River
The southernmost edge of the All Dens Plains
Three kilometers from Alden’s North Gates
“Centurion Placus Lepidus!” Galio boomed hoarsely, his voice strained but unwilling to save it.
A rigid Lepidus stepped forward. He saluted the banners crisply touching a closed fist on his chest before turning and repeating it now facing them. “Praetor Maximus Sir! Tribune!” He addressed in turn the senior officers present, several civilians from the city who’d made the short trip to the Castrum to watch from the open gates the legionnaires and catch a glimpse of Lucius watching him impressed.
“Hereby ye are declared First Centurion of the 3rd Cohort and take over its 1st Century. Who do you have promoted in yer stead to lead the 2nd Century?”
“Centurion Donlon sir!”
Galio nodded and waited for the Centurion to accept his Golden Phalera.
“Is that yer third?” The freshly shaved Tribune asked.
“Yes Tribune!” Lepidus replied and placed the gold disk inside his helm which the officer kept under his arm.
“See to wear them all next time,” Galio retorted austerely. “Else people might think yer selling the stuff for profit!”
“Yes sir!”
“Umm.” Veturius grumbled dismissing him and raised his eyes to the next officer in line. “Centurion… Mede! What’s that in yer face son?”
“It’s… a half-mask?” The badly maimed Northman replied unsure and the thousands of soldiers present laughed out loud.
“Ye reckon we’re friends Centurion?” Galio snapped, spittle flying out of his mouth and the noise died out immediately.
Mede grimaced. “No sir! Tribune,” he saluted and then looked at the watching from his field chair Lucius. “Praetor.”
“Two weeks without pay,” Galio ordered gruffly and one of scribe sergeants at the elongated table behind Lucius wetted the tip of the stylus on his tongue first, before dipping it in the inkpot. He then proceeded to write the citation.
“Now,” Galio continued very displeased. “Let me see. It appears you have several mentions in the dailies for better reasons. Eh. Brevis even circled it for me not to miss it!” A soldier approached to present the frowning Mede with his medals. “Number four and number five.” Galio said pursing his mouth in disbelief. Then eyed the now smirking Northman that had all his gold disks attached on the front of his armour along non-issued patches of black fur stitched over the shoulder pads. “The fine stays.”
Mede’s grin turned into a sulk whilst Galio continued. “Ahm… Centurion Mede, you are hereby promoted… to centurion first class and moved to the 2nd Cohort of our 3rd Legion to take over in place of Indus. The Centurion is transferring to the 1st Legion under Legatus Merenda.”
Galio paused for a moment as the legionnaires roared thunderously acknowledging the well-known Northman officer and multi-campaigns veteran. Mede had been with Lucius since Maza-Burg and had as many citations as medals amassed during that time. Late Agricola’s and Kato’s recruits now veterans and of equal rank with their trainers.
A lot of old faces are missing though, Lucius thought, eyes stopping on Mamercus Sorex that had already heard his name being called and had walked out of the ranks twice, the second time to receive Kaeso’s Corona Vallaris. Sorex’s name the only one mentioned in Kaeso’s brief mandatory will. The Centurion gave a slight nod with his head and Lucius returned it.
Make it right, the King reminded himself.
His wandering eyes paused at the Castrum’s gates, now almost blocked by Alden citizens that had kept the city open while everyone waited for Lord Doris to reply. The familiar old walls of the city tiny at the distance but visible. The warm day keeping the fireplaces cold and the smoke clouds from covering up the sky.
He spotted Ramirus riding through the gates. The LID Director had asked permission not to attend the festivities, the latter Tribune Trupo’s idea to keep the idle for months now soldiers busy. Drilling them wasn’t that important as resistance had collapsed. Aldenfort, Vinterfort and Sabretooth Castle had opened their gates to the marching Legions. Illirium had signed an armistice with Lord Sula after some back and forth. Lord Brakis wanted to have control of Aegium but Lord Sula refused flatly despite Lucius mentioning the ‘need to take a step back to move forward.’
Lucius wasn’t going to accommodate Stan Brakis or reward him, but he also didn’t want Lord Sula controlling Aegium directly. He had an idea to reward his ally but not how the Duke of Demames envisioned. The fact that Paulus Sula took his time to release the hostages he held, mainly Vinicius Alden the Lord of Saltville and his brother Laran, both third cousins to Lord Doris and his father, bothered Lucius. He’d released Lady Sandra, her brothers and her mother but it had taken pressure from the busy with the campaign King to do it.
“Venius Gata should lead the Century,” Mede said.
“Not before I talk with him,” Galio retorted already eager to get rid of the scarred Centurion. “Dismissed. Now, Decurion Jago Davy,” the Tribune continued while Lucius turned to speak with the arriving Ramirus. The officer jumped from his horse, left the reins with a LID agent escorting him and then saluted. Lucius returned it with a nod and Ramirus glanced at Sir Valgus standing behind the King at attention.
“You have news,” Lucius said gesturing for Ramirus to approach.
“On two fronts Praetor.”
“I’m told the campaign is over,” Lucius quipped with a straight face.
“Poor choice of words sir,” Ramirus replied. “We are to expect Mayor Simo to visit us within the hour.”
“He’ll send the Mayor?” Lucius asked evenly.
“Lord Doris isn’t in the city. It is what the Mayor will tell you. “
Lucius stared at the young and rather short Cavalry officer accepting his promotion. The spurred boots to fill pretty large but bravery came in all packages. And it wasn’t bound by blood obviously.
“You think he’ll head for Illirium?” He asked Ramirus.
“He probably left with a merchant transport two days before we arrived,” Ramirus replied. “Heading for Scaldingport.”
“Will Lord Ruud take him in?” Lucius asked calmly.
“Don’t see why he’d bother sir, but I won’t risk trying to decipher what the Duke might do. He is busy with the Khan’s army.”
“He’s taken the Queen and the kids,” Lucius noted.
“His daughter sire and grandchildren.”
“Yeah. I don’t like the arrangement Ramirus. These were the good news?”
“Neither good nor bad Praetor. Lord Doris leaving means the city is open,” Ramirus replied.
“The city was open either way,” Lucius retorted and brushed the sweat off of his forehead with a gloved index finger. “I wouldn’t have fought Alden and Alden would have never fought against me.”
“The guard did sir.”
“What are the other news?” Lucius asked him tiredly.
“Severus reported that one of our agents might have something on Laudus,” Ramirus replied.
“His name?”
“Agent Taurus. He’s stationed in Badum. We covered most of the nearby cities or ports,” Ramirus replied. “Riverdor is very difficult to operate. Duke Charles has a lot of soldiers there and numerous agents of his own.”
“Taurus thinks Laudus traveled through Badum?”
“He might have used the bank there.”
“How do we know this?” Lucius asked him.
“We hired some bounty hunters after pressuring an employee and posted a very big reward,” Ramirus replied. “Soon after many more arrived in the city and Taurus believes this second wave is bigger than the first one.”
“Why hire them beforehand?”
“Taurus knew them my Lord. But he has no news from them since.”
“How long?”
“Weeks, but these matters take time usually.”
“You said he pressured an employee earlier,” Lucius asked pursing his mouth.
“I ordered him not to harm the locals Praetor. Taurus claims it was a mistake and it might be the reason more of Bank’s people arrived.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The fact that Taurus needed to be ordered not to harm people concerning.
“Not bounty hunters?”
“A mix of both.”
“Is Badum usually a busy office?”
“I don’t see why it would be,” Ramirus replied.
Lucius nodded deep in thought. “Stay. I’m about to promote the Tribune,” he finally said and got up. “Galio Veturius!” Lucius boomed and Galio snapped at attention surprised.
“Praetor,” he saluted sharply but also sounding a bit nervous. “Your orders milord!”
Lucius smiled at the veteran’s anxiety. “I have a problem Tribune.”
“Yes sir,” Galio said soberly. “We’ll get on it immediately.”
“I have one Legatus too many but also a kingdom to run,” Lucius said loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I’ll take care of the Third milord!”
“Trupo can do that,” Lucius argued. “In my absence.”
“Yes milord.”
“I want someone to keep an eye on our Legati. Someone they will listen to and that goes for Macrinus as well. Someone to outrank them.”
Galio froze and turned red in the face. “I don’t have the status—”
“The King can elevate any man’s status or restore what was lost,” Lucius boomed brusquely. “You object?” He asked the grimacing Galio.
“Never sire!”
“Mister Trupo,” Lucius asked the mustached officer. “You have the Consul’s baton?”
Galio gasped audibly.
“Kept it warm sir,” Trupo replied getting up. Lucius stopped him before the grinning officer had the chance to say anything inappropriate with citizens listening in to their exchange.
“Just bring it forth,” Lucius ordered with a smile. “We can’t have Sula and Merenda outrank our good Veturius.”
“A cheer for the Old Oak!” Someone from inside the ranks yelled with a croaky voice and Lucius stopped an eagled-eyed Decanus from going after the culprit. Seeing the King not objecting the thousands of men and women of the Third Legion present, who the now very-moved Galio had raised from a single maniple almost six years back, cheered with such enthusiasm that their roar was heard from the sentinels guarding the gates of the city three kilometers away. Everyone but the gratified Sirio that is. The LID agent, now sandwiched between two burly Centurions who cheered with their fists raised, bawling his eyes out whilst desperately attempting to wipe the tears from his face.
How did you end up working with Nattas lad?
“My Lord,” Ramirus noted treading carefully, in a discreet manner so only Lucius and Sir Valgus could hear, interrupting the moment. “A Consul’s position has also civic powers beyond the army.”
Lucius turned his head and regarded somberly the intelligence officer’s blank face.
“Indeed,” the King agreed. “He does.”
Ramirus stood back and bowed his head. “I’ll get the office ready for the Mayor.”
“You should,” Lucius replied and turned to watch Galio receiving the sculpted gold and silver baton from the grinning Trupo under thunderous applause. Trupo owed his second career in the army to Galio as he’d vouched for him to a younger Lucius. Ramirus saluted and pivoted to leave but Lucius turned his head and stopped him asking casually, “The bounty hunter’s name?”
“Lear Hik,” Ramirus replied readily. “He served with your—”
“I know of him,” Lucius cut him off with a grimace. “See you find out what’s going on in Badum Ramirus. I want the killers found and brought to justice.”
“Yes my Lord.” Ramirus said dutifully.
-
> The victorious King Lucius the third, entered the city of Alden through the open North Gates, following behind Primus Pilus’ Brevis’ hard-marching four centuries of the 1st Cohort of the 3rd Legion, its numbered square red banners and the Panthera Tigris gilded standard, for the first time since he’d left that distant summer of 188 NC. It was the afternoon of the penultimate day of month Tertius, the year of the new calendar 194.
>
> The city came out to watch Lucius’ triumphant return but it was a sober welcome alike the one in Cartagen or Asturia the previous years. Alden had suffered great casualties in the battles for the Lorian Plains and had seen too much death the years before that starting with the bloody nuptials between little Silvie and Kasper. Lucius realizing the city was in mourning ordered the rest of the Legion to march outside the city walls following Maiden’s River and construct a new Castrum near its bridge where the First Legion had erected the old one years back.
>
> The still recovering Legatus Sula who was one day behind the king with the battered IV Legio was ordered to do the same. Sula, now under the care of his wife that had made the journey from Asturia to reach him the moment Lord Holt secured the bridge, accepted the order despite Lady Martha wanting to travel to the coast and gaze ‘upon the warm seas my sister wrote me about.’
>
> The other and much fresher in the job Legatus, the wildly-partying Marcus-Antonius since the battles had ended, was swiftly ordered to stay at Sabretooth Castle instead and continue to repair and train his army there. A dour, dry place that had suffered appallingly in the civil war, situated at the edge of the desert and under the care of the pensive heavily-injured Lord Scylla who wasn’t exactly fond of the animated new Legatus’ complaints.
>
> Merenda would later describe the months he spent taking control of the First Legion ‘and whipping those dullards into proper shape’ as the ‘dullest mixture of boring and headache-induced experience an officer should never have to endure’. Famously decrying to his many transferred friends and colleagues arriving from the 3rd -mostly to cheer him up as the First Legion had an excellent cadre of officers already- that ‘there are the dangerously crazy-nasty girls of Kas gentlemen and then there are the miserable whores of Sabretooth. If I was left with those two picks and a blade over my head I’d ask that barking old dog Macrinus to switch places with me and you all know I don’t really fancy redheads. Hey there! No comments afore I finish! Them northern cunts could slit my throat open over a darn ole big arse joke! Think I’ve sprouted out at least six of them already since waking up!’
>
> Jests about fat-bottomed females aside and given all that he’d get to experience in his life the self-indulgent young Legatus of the First Legion (Merenda was not even twenty-five, the youngest ever to achieve the rank) was shockingly right for once. They say when you’re too loud or taunt the gods too much pretending you’re in trouble they tend to give you exactly what you’re trying to avoid, wrapped up in a fancy cloak, glittering jewels and carrying the ‘forever sharp’ blade.
>
> With the Legati away the King, who had bestowed upon the loyal Tribune Galio Veturius the biggest honor and rank ever given by a King in two hundred years, discussed briefly with the miserable Mayor of Alden Simo the happenings in the city and asked for the whereabouts of the missing Lord Doris. The latter had disappeared without a trace along with his longtime hailing from Aegium aide Laius, not to be heard from again until he resurfaced in another continent.
>
> When Lucius asked for the priests to open and prepare the royal catacombs for him to visit, Simo informed the tired King who still carried his youngest brother’s remains in a silver box that Uher’s priesthood had anathematized the city of Alden and its rulers for the murder of so many members of the cloth during ‘the long knives of summer’ event many years back. Most of the other gods’ churches had agreed that the fault lay with the city and had departed as well. The temples and the catacombs left unattended for years, since the overwhelmed King Jeremy had been too busy with the war to deal with the matter.
>
> Ramirus suggested to bring a minor vicar or one of the wandering preaching friars to perform some of cleansing rituals but an angry and assuredly bitter Lucius had flatly refused to force the issue not a day into his return. ‘A king doesn’t beg Ramirus,’ he reminded him. ‘And this king can see to his affairs without a mediator.’
>
> Later that afternoon Augusta Flavia’s hired carriage accompanied by a young Issir Priestess named Brigitte who was her personal pupil and the 1st Idole Drusilla, effectively the Temple of Senses top hierarchy entered the city of Alden. They had made the journey taking a ship straight out of Valeria to Aldenfort which was to some extent a surprise, since their Temple didn’t really possess ships capable of making such a big journey. At least that is what most people believed since no one visited the Baths of Valeria to gaze at the dock facilities.
>
> A modestly dressed Flavia, considering the outfit she had donned for Sir Ralph’s funeral six years earlier, had replied to the interested Director Ramirus blushing like a maiden disrobing for the first time in her husband’s presence.
>
> ‘It’s really just a very old ship venerated Director.’
>
> A habitually unaffected by pretty faces but appreciative of Flavia’s vintage female allure Ramirus, stared in the priestess’ moist and lightly painted eyes, the High Priestess was well in her forties by now but one wouldn’t know it by gazing at her figure or face and then decided this matter needed no further probing.
>
>
-
Lucius pushed the ancient reinforced heavy door open. It resisted him at first, the torches making the narrow underground passage moving all about him. The mold and rust covered walls leaking down the stone floor. Eventually it cracked open, the hinges creaking and the sound carrying through the now much bigger opening of the crypt’s main hall. A gush of stale foul wind blowing the torch’s flames this way and that.
For a moment.
Lucius blinked, his eyes hurting and walked inside the dark hall, each stride echoed. He paused, the sound of his boots bouncing off of the wet floor and the darkened stone walls. The marble details on the granite sarcophagi.
‘Start from the entrance,’ his father had told him the first time they had gotten down there when Lucius had been seven. ‘For the old Lords. See to learn their names. Speak them aloud. Not to be forgotten. The markings are slowly lost with time. You don’t want to mix them up in the attempt to pay them proper respect. If you can’t do that then you better turn around and head up those stairs boy.’
“Laran,” Lucius said hoarsely switching to the archaic accent that made the ‘a’ weak and sounding alike a strangled ‘o’. “I come in peace,” he placed a gloved hand on the cracked old stone sarcophagus. The old Lord’s bronze helmet fused on the stone with melting rust changing its shape.
“I read of Cyprian,” Lucius continued, his eyes trying to adjust to the dancing shadows that leaped the final resting place of the dead Alden Kings. “I come in peace.”
Every second stride another hulking rectangular sarcophagus placed on the floor. Starting with the plain older ones and slowly becoming more elaborate, further adorned but not always bigger. Marble reliefs and sculpted scenes of the past kings lives. Not always accurate or entirely truthful. Or even there at all. Lucius Caesar placing the first stone in Cartagen’s palace. Which the king probably never did himself given his age at the time. The massive paws of the Blacktiger that had bested Caius, still gleaming and encased in gold where his sarcophagus should have been. A provocatively sculpted statue of a naked male Gish resting over Titus’ tomb, an arm caressing the blackened marble.
One after the other, a new sarcophagus was revealed in the light of his torch, the previous one receding into darkness. Their silence unbroken for years. Lucius paused and searched for the torches mounted on the walls. His head hurting and eyes watering in the toxic atmosphere of the underground mausoleum. It had been years since the tomb had been opened and most torches didn’t work, the oil in them spoiled or turned to blight. Lucius coughed and did what he could, setting Jeremy’s silver box down to bring more light towards the back of the catacomb.
His grandfather, the other Titus, the first on the other side of the wall. The sarcophagi here much newer but also fewer. Much easier to recognize.
“Gods damn it Ralph,” a moved Lucius rustled and wiped some of the dirt away from his brother’s granite coffin. “You should have seen this. Be here to stop them. Cover my back. They killed Silvie, Ralph. They did. Murdered our father and then cut Jeremy’s head. I… couldn’t find it.”
A crying Lucius stepped away and wiped his eyes trying to control himself. The solitude of the mausoleum pressing down on him, the silence suffocating and the smoke burning the emotional King’s throat.
“Sir Ralph,” Lucius said raspingly. “A true Knight is the one who stays pure in victory and unblemished in his defeat. He earns the right to rest beside Kings. Earned not given. You’re welcomed here. I come in peace.”
He stooped to pick up the heavy silver box and walked to where his father’s sarcophagus stood. Most of the scenes sculpted on the intricately carved sides Lucius easily recognized. His mother’s entry in Cartagen and King Alistair rousing the troops in Anorum, his arm around a young Lucius’ shoulders.
For Regia, were his father’s last spoken words to him and a shaking Lucius had done all he could to make good on the task. Even when his soul protested.
Not for you, Alistair meant. And not for me.
A king must be able to do what others couldn’t.
“From the Northern Sea and the Great Dark Ocean in the far east, to the Scalding Sea in the south,” Lucius rustled. “And from Krakenhall’s Icebreak Coast at Jelin’s edge, to the cold waters of Kadrek and Aegium’s Salt Coast the tiger reaches. I made sure of that. Alistair Alden, it is done and thus it shall remain. I come in peace.”
A numb Lucius turned at a rectangular block of granite left waiting for the next King in line, still unprepared and uncut. He tried to lit the torch over it but couldn’t. The cloth brittle and beset by rot. He went to light his father’s but it had been burned out completely and was useless. Breathing heavy Lucius brought Jeremy’s silver box near the cut piece of granite again and placed it on top of it. He removed the rotted part of the cloth with his dagger and then the old wood.
Lucius placed the burning torch into the iron sheath, grimacing at the sparks landing on his face but had trouble securing it there. The torch drooped when he pulled his arm away and then toppled completely. It landed on the ground and came apart, its light getting extinguished. Jeremy’s silver funeral box suddenly lost in darkness. This part of the large tomb engulfed in oppressive blackness.
Lucius had to search for the box in the blind and when he found it, his nervous hand pushed it forward almost dropping it on the floor. The bones inside rattled and Lucius lost his senses for a moment. He stooped over the granite piece in the dark, his sweaty forehead resting on the simple silver box. Try as he did, Lucius couldn’t continue. Not like this, he thought miserably. In the dark.
Whatever your father says, Queen Vacia had told her oldest son. You must take care of your brothers first and foremost. We all have jobs but some tasks are more important than the others.
You must forgive, so you can be forgiven.
Lucius had forgiven Jeremy already.
The others, he just couldn’t.
The shadows danced around the forlorn semi-paralyzed with grief King. Black appendages and elongated talons scratching at the walls. Shapes of horrific fiends morphing into familiar figures as if the dead had come to pay Lucius their respects. Knights, soldiers and simple commoners. The stale, putrid breeze turned chilly on his face. The lights of a crude, loud, northern tavern blinded his eyes.
-
> Roderick’s angry words, his father’s squire that didn’t want to be a knight, rang in his ears.
>
> ‘Boy, you’re to be the King of Regia. Not a chair general training troops outside a city. Men will die because of you. For you. All the time. Ye get that? You’ve a kingdom to run. A bloody throne to return to!’
>
> Lucius gasped hoarsely dropping to his knees, fingers scratching at the rough stone’s surface and ‘Twotrees’ Mcloud raised that giant’s sword into the air, Logan narrowing his wolf’s eyes behind the shield and a snarling Benton came at him swinging his war-hammer inside the circle. Faye screamed in agony that turned into fierce pleasure between two rugged breaths.
>
> Ice all about them but the waters steaming and bubbling.
>
> You think you won? A lost in the past Macia had asked him. That it’s over?
>
> ‘The men will hold Lord Alden.’ Centurion Agricola saluted and marched his century first over the ice lake and then into the massive iron mines.
>
> Sharp iron and the Griffin’s favorite son looking at him.
>
> ‘May Luthos guide you out of the Sea of Struggles Lord Alden and back to familiar cherished shores,’ the noble Sir Walter had wished him afore his own life ended.
>
> Oh, ye good knight laying in the mud
>
> Neither friends nor foes under crimson shields, the Nord bards sang because Faye loved his verses. A Knight and a poet. A king to be. Why am I scared Alden?
>
> Beyond the rough rocks, basalt boulders, winter’s snow and the ever-spring’s muddy routes. The forbidding alien icy mountains and the sinister white-barked forests, hear me out men of the Third, Lucius roared and Gata stepped out of the testudo squares to raise his gladius high, round rocks digging at the ground, earth exploding outwards and flames leaping at the shields.
>
> Back and forth again. Roderick stopping behind him abruptly, a determined look on his wrinkled face and the bridge but twenty meters away.
>
> Picks breaking the ice and bloated corpses tumbling down the frozen snow.
>
> The iron bolt narrowly missing his head and Long charging at the lines of firing Scorpios.
>
> Oh, ye good knight laying in the mud.
>
> Neither friends… nor foes.
>
> When the dance begins.
>
> Fear not the Angel of Sorrow
>
> For she’s god’s assistant.
>
> Your grace, Ramirus’ note read. Accept my sincere apologies.
-
Lucius turned his head away from the blinding light with a groan of pain. He tried to stand up but his knees were numb and he had to clasp at the rectangular granite boulder’s edge desperately not to fall backwards into death’s lurking blackness behind him. Endariel sang a calming lullaby. The pensive tune soothing. The light approaching, stronger than everything else. Neither ominous nor benign. Dwarfing the several old torches Lucius had managed to light up, for it wasn’t produced out of flames. A touch of purple amidst the brilliant white, the sheer fabric hissing on the rough stone floor of the mausoleum, small bottles clinging and a smell of scented oils.
A whisper of blond curls cascading down a graceful arm and a soft hand touching his shoulder comfortingly.
>
>
> Cover thyself in mourning garb
>
> For valor’s undying verity is never distant.
Lucius went to push her hand away but the woman stooped over him and whispered.
“Let me help my Lord.”
“Why?” Lucius croaked, uncomfortable to be seen in this condition. “I don’t want what you’re offering priestess.”
Flavia stood back and then looked around them. Satisfied she made a small step forward and then placed a round stone on each of the unfinished sarcophagus corners. The strange stones lit up one after the other after a while and the catacomb’s darkness was chased away. Jeremy’s silver box gleaming under the strong strange magical light.
“I’m a priestess first and foremost,” Flavia explained to him while she removed the purple scarf covering her shoulders to place it over the granite as a minimum decoration.
Lucius stood up slowly and used the back of his hand to wipe his face. The High Priestess pressed her painted lips tight for a moment and then added, answering his silent query. “The Goddess has a mother. I’m where I’m supposed to be Lord Lucius. You won’t stand alone. Let me pray for your brother.”
And with that she knelt before the crude altar and started.
“King Jeremy Alden. The Goddess hears your voice and heeds your concerns. You are acknowledged. You are welcomed here. I, Flavia Augusta come in peace. King Lucius comes in peace,” she paused and turned her head around to look at the frowned Lucius. Flavia tended a hand to him and Lucius took it. He knelt beside her and they prayed together.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
read it at Royalroad : https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/46739/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms
& https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/47919/lure-o-war-the-old-realms
Scribblehub https://www.scribblehub.com/series/542002/touch-o-luck-the-old-realms/
& https://www.scribblehub.com/series/547709/the-old-realms/