> ----------------------------------------
>
> ----------------------------------------
>
>
>
> Dreams o’ spring,
>
> Whisper of the meek reigning this realm
>
> Humble, valiant champions taking the helm
>
> Valens was killed afore ‘Long’ fell at Mercator’s Inn
>
> (In the plains dirt)
>
> …Long live the king
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Themes ‘n patterns on a wyvern’s wing
>
> Seen blisters forming on Witch’s Elm
>
> Eikenport ruled by the condemned
>
> Cofol, fiends ‘n a half-breed’s skin
>
> Skull ‘n Bones on the princess’ ring
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Have ye heard none-the-less -o’ that other thing?
>
> Of strange red sails, here comes Khan’s grand Flotilla
>
> Hey listen up! Sir Lennox’s Chiliad won at Que Ki-La
>
> And yet solemn folk lament at Ballard’s villa
>
> A leaping gilded leopard taken by a Djinn
>
> That treads the great desert on a hummin' fin
>
> Ravn’s Heir charged at 3Roads against the odds
>
> Smiling Cataphracts ‘n broken cords on lent mandolin
>
> His head returned to Red Bridge tied wit leather string
>
> …Long live the king
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Dreams o’ spring,
>
> Whisper of the meek reigning this realm
>
> Humble, valiant heroes taking the helm
>
> Ligur kicked Holt’s bridge -but a tiger punched the lynchpin back in
>
> (Darn it, this is a win!)
>
> …Long live the king.
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> Champions (Dreams O’ Spring)*
>
> Jan-Bert Luffy
-
> *First played around the summer of 194 in Aegium. Rhythmical ballad, very technical with a catchy tune, (has been described as more of a dancing lullaby at times) that exploded in volume for the refrain and middle parts only for the music to pause briefly at every last verse.
>
> It was to become one of the famed bard’s most popular original songs in most of Jelin, a bit later in Goras and of course Greenwhale Peninsula. Many times covered by other artists that mimicked JB Luff’s introduction of exotic instruments (Mandolin, banjo, flutes, trumpets, but also the big bass and many custom guitars) in a much larger in number of musicians traveling troupes or bands, what Jan-Bert regularly called ‘our little traveling carnival of misfits.’ Years later JB-Luff & the Misfits along with Roy & the Purser Gang performed it in front of a riotous crowd of thirty thousand at the opening of the ‘First Chiliad Games’ in Fu De-Gar.
>
> Sirio Veturius acknowledged in the prologue of ‘the fall of heroes’ that hearing JB Luff’s more refined rendition a year later in Novesium fueled his resolve to finish the story of the ‘great war’ years and preserve the voice (and memory) of those lost unheralded heroes that had contributed immensely to the struggle but now couldn’t speak for themselves.
>
>
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Rhys Vardran
Dar Tulca
Silent Servants
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Oras hells, a blinded Rhys thought rolling free on the bed as Flix had jumped off of him. He reached the edge, failed in the attempt to twist around and slammed his chest on the floor with a foundations-shaking thud, gasped like a dog kicked in the gonads and then swung an arm back to nail the Gish. Rhys almost broke said arm on the fucking chair and he growled maddened and in blinding pain. Clenching his jaw shut, gold teeth dinging, a furious Rhys twirled pressing down to use an elbow as lever, blood on his chin and a lump forming on his forehead where he’d banged it on Lord Natta’s fancy marble tiles.
Fucking rich cretins!
Flix chuckled seeing him standing up and stumble like a drunken sailor in the bedroom. Rhys counted his strides to get to the cupboard but the sneaky Gish tripped him up and the human assassin went down again. With a groan, tearing eyes blinking to get some of his vision back, Rhys saw the lit up room appearing slowly through the haze. His harness next to the toppled chair. He grunted and rolled towards his weapons. Rhys reached for his scabbard but the Gish stepped on it.
You little… Rhys thought and snatched at the sandaled ankle. The skin slippery as if it had been oiled but he yanked it up just the same and saw Flix toppling backwards feet over head. But it was a controlled somersault and the nimble androgynous Gish landed on his feet with ease. Then used that small foot to kick Rhys’ reaching hand away from his sword.
Dar Tulca swung a leg to sweep Flix off of his feet, twisting on the ground but the Gish jumped a meter in the air, the assassin’s sword traveling upwards along with the small creature. Flix had used his other foot to lift it off of the floor. Which was impressive as fuck but Rhys could see better now and the Gish would have to land at some point, so Rhys jumped up like a circus gymnast as the creature came down and swung a punch aiming for Flix’s shaved head.
Flix jerked his head away from the punch that would have caved it in given its size and Rhys roared irate at the near miss, then squealed when the Gish used the scabbard to stab down at his naked toes. Rhys wailed hoarsely and Flix jabbed the sheathed blade on his chest next to push him back on his arse. With a snarl Rhys grabbed at the scabbard with his right hand as he was moving backwards and yanked it out of the Gish’s grip.
Of sorts.
Triumph followed by despair.
Eh.
Flix stared at the naked scimitar he was left holding with the scowling Rhys now having possession of the empty scabbard.
Well that was too much fucking fuzz over a whole lot o’ nothing.
“Wish to trade now, hmm?” He asked Rhys with a teasing grin. “I can fight with the sheath. No problem.”
Rhys tossed the scabbard down with a scowl and touched the lump on his forehead.
“You could have taken me out in the stable,” he rustled and sniffed at his hand with another grimace of surprise. “What the… Is this scented?”
“Peppermint and vanilla extract,” Flix replied with a lewd wink. “You like? I got it very cheap. This city is well-stocked.”
Rhys cleared his throat a little uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
“Listen… ahm,” he started and Selussa kicked the door of the bedroom in. It banged on the table that Rhys had placed there and hurled it across the bedroom with a screeching sound followed by another bang. The startled Selussa blinked seeing Flix walking towards her and leaped three meters with her shortsword in hand. The short blue nightshirt she had on barely reaching her hips.
Lots of intimate parts of the woman’s anatomy becoming well-ventilated in the jump.
Rhys pursed his mouth and then side-glanced at the discarded weapon harness unsure.
Selussa landed in front of the Gish in the meantime, but Flix rolled under her open legs with a chuckle, came out behind her and then slapped the assassin’s naked bottoms with the flat of the blade. The smack reverberating inside the room. Rhys decided she could do fine on her own and turned to watch.
“Arggh!” An incensed Selussa hissed and twisted on her heels to swing at the tip-tapping away Gish. “Why you sneaky—” she had to cut it short and duck as Flix had hurled Rhys’ scimitar back while leaping on the upturned table with the stooped Selussa rushing after him. The Gish touched the edge of the table and somersaulted backwards, actually managing to take one stride on the ceiling before dropping on Selussa’s back. She went down to her knees with a cry of surprise, losing the handle on her shortsword, but she immediately twisted and turned about furious to dislodge the chuckling Gish from her back. She couldn’t as Flix used his legs to block her swinging arms.
“It’s alright,” Rhys said after watching her struggle frenziedly for a while and a bewildered Selussa glanced his way.
“Hugh? Are you insane? Who is this?”
“Flix,” the Gish replied and tapped the top of her wild head a couple of times with the palm of his small hand. “Enough. I’m tired.”
“What?” Selussa gasped and Flix sniffed at her hair once curious before showing the flushed female assassin the dagger he’d never lost during the fight.
“Rhys?” Selussa asked in shock seeing him watching them without lifting a hand to help.
Of course helping her would probably have killed them both.
So Rhys was doing her a favor.
Not an easy thing to explain.
“Remember the Imperial Assassin I’ve told you about?” He finally said brusquely in his typical abrupt manner and Flix leaped off of Selussa’s nape to land on his feet with a pained wince.
“Sounds like a total douchebag I know but he isn’t that bad. Met males way worse than him,” the Gish assured the snarling Selussa. “By the way, that’s the second thing he shares with the King of Wetull of all things. He-heh.”
Selussa blinked in shock.
“What’s the other thing?” She croaked pushing the black curls framing her flushed face back. Rhys was interested to know that as well.
“He has a big fat prick,” Flix said all serious and raised his forearm to show her.
“Well…” Rhys mumbled while Selussa stood back overwhelmed by the way her morning had started.
“Not the biggest one I’ve handled,” Flix told the smug-looking Rhys shaking his small index finger.
While a little embarrassing as far as clarifications went, it wasn’t really truth be told and Rhys thought this latter part had gone way better than one could ever have expected.
So he called it a win.
20th of Quintus 194 NC
Lord Nattas’ Villa in Aegium’s Old City
Flix was fixing a wig on his shaven head and checking on his makeup. He applied some more white powder to cover the wrinkles forming under the eyes and around the mouth. Another coating of crayon on the lips to make them fuller. He glanced at them through the bedroom’s mirror watching him in silence.
“Time affects the face, it does.” He explained. “Without the blood.”
“You look…” Rhys cleared his throat. “You seem in great shape.”
“I’m not.”
“Saw you leaping to the ceiling!” Rhys grunted and the Gish chuckled.
“That’s just skill. I was speaking of looks…” he paused, red-rimmed eye staring at him intently.
Rhys smacked his lips. “I like what I see in general.”
“I used to be very pretty,” Flix explained. “You couldn’t tell the difference. Many didn’t.” He added knowingly. Rhys nodded and Selussa glared his way.
“I’m very old,” Flix continued. “Not much time left for me to have fun. But I’m not old inside. You understand?”
“There are days I can barely get out of bed,” Rhys agreed. “What?” He snapped at the grimacing Selussa that was sitting cross-legged next to him on the bed. “I’ve a lot mileage on these legs.”
Damnation.
Think of something else you dumb fuck!
“She’s worried. Does she know who I am?” Flix explained a slight smirk forming on his mouth.
“Dar Vranga.” Selussa spat. “Nym’s pet.”
Flix furrowed his trimmed and black-painted eyebrows. The small nostrils on his face expanding. “Nym never forced Ralnor. He wanted it. Eager to rise in status. He could have stayed under the Seer’s protection. An unknown servant of no skill following Edlenn around. But he always wanted more. I couldn’t understand why back then.”
“He told me about the Circle. What did you lose?” Selussa asked crossing both arms over her chest.
“You want to see?” Flix asked and turned around. He pulled at the bindings and the small tunic fell down his legs. The body underneath fit and hairless, round hips with small breasts formed and flawless but for a pink pattern like scarring around the nape all Gish had. The body of a young female of his species but with a small difference in anatomy.
Tiny.
Rhys blinked but kept his face blank. His tongue lodged against the gold teeth inside his mouth and the old phantom pain returning.
“I’m sorry,” Selussa whispered breaking the very awkward moment.
“I’m not,” Flix replied coolly. “It’s been a long time. Can I see yours?”
“Yeah, I don’t think so Gish,” Selussa replied tensely.
“You can call me Flix. Gish are many,” he said and stooped to gather his tunic. “Now I know where you found it,” Flix told the frowning Rhys.
The missing skin was his meaning.
“Ralnor is still alive?” Flix asked them seeing as Rhys wasn’t going to comment on the matter.
“Why?” Selussa asked defensively.
“He is. Oh, that would make Dar Nym very unhappy. Heh-he. Mol is dead then, yes?”
Rhys licked his lips. “If you’re here for Ralnor then you’ve strayed way out of the correct path Flix.”
The Gish assassin chuckled and walked slowly towards his dress. He put it over his head carefully and then fixed the wig again looking at the mirror.
“I’m not here for him. Flix won’t fight Ralnor. It’s a stupid idea to fight Fae O’ Elum, Eherdir O’ Lome. One skill Ralnor had, yes. And he struggled to hone it to perfection, for he had nothing else. I’m not interested in testing that,” he murmured. “Not here for anyone. I’m free,” Flix explained looking at them.
Right. Fine by me mate.
“Can Dar Nym?” Selussa asked hoarsely.
Darling, Rhys thought a little peeved she was worried about their old tutor.
Then again Ralnor is all she has left after her sister was killed.
“Why would you…” Flix had walked near the window but paused and turned around to look at her. “Ah. Ralnor knows Dar Nym isn’t one thing. He has seen. Maybe he knows, maybe he doesn’t. Dar Nym may come to you. Come for you. Maybe not. Dar Nym is pretty busy now I reckon. Just know that if Dar Nym is somewhere then the Circle is well. Did Ralnor tell you that?”
“He didn’t,” Rhys said and got up from the bed. This detail interested him.
Flix nodded. “Who do you serve?” He asked them.
“The Fading Light,” Rhys replied.
“No you don’t. There’s no such thing for you,” Flix replied. “This guild Dar Eherdir built and he’s responsible for it. The Fading Light lives inside the Circle. You don’t want to serve it for you don’t know what it is.”
“Do you know?” Rhys asked aggressively.
Flix shook his head, the realistic wig moving like he’d a real mane. In full makeup he isn’t bad-looking and makes a passable female Gish, Rhys thought. That cunt Jinx was prettier for sure.
Maybe Flix was really pretty in his youth.
“I can’t tell you for it isn’t my secret to share,” he explained finally. “Then again I don’t much care anymore. I came looking for a ship but the journey I wish to make no one offers. Maybe I’m supposed to choose another destination?”
“You’re old,” Rhys said brusquely. “Not much oil left in the tank.”
The Gish nodded solemnly.
Still Rhys wasn’t convinced.
“Worry not,” Flix said turning to the silent Selussa. “Ralnor won’t go anywhere near Dar Nym, he-he. He can’t approach Nym even he wanted to because Dar Draug is still around and he’ll sniff that gnarly fool out.” He snapped his mouth shut like a predator at a careless prey. “Do you know that old Draug can tell an Aken construct from the real thing?” He asked them and noticing Selussa grimacing Flix paused thoughtfully.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“He’s going there,” he murmured and came back from the window to sit on a chair. Flix crossed his legs like Selussa and reached for a pocket in his dress. He got an engraved silver pipe out, the shank thin and straight. Flicked a firestone with the other hand and placed it over the small round bowl. Dragged at the bit a couple of times, the aromatic smoke reaching Rhys’ nostrils. The Gish exhaled, using his mouth to make circles and a couple of hearts.
“You know what this does to your lungs?” Rhys barked abruptly and Selussa slapped his arm to shut him up.
“I know it helps my back,” Flix retorted opening an eye. “Someone is downstairs.”
“Lord Nattas and Griet,” Selussa replied.
“A sister?”
“A pupil of Faerith K’Lael,” Selussa blurted out and then pursed her mouth frustrated.
“Hey, fuck her.” Rhys told her. “She’s retired anyway.”
“Why name her the Fading Light?”
“Ralnor gave her a pendant. She had caught a strange illness.”
A decade before he was born, back when Verano was a teenager.
“The witch’s pendant,” Flix said blowing smoke out of his nostrils with a pleased expression.
Fucking drug is working fast, Rhys thought. He knew from experience having been drugged not so long ago. He could still feel the numbness at the back of his mouth. Rhys had also a semi-hard cock for a while now that just wouldn’t calm down but this was from all the exertion. Probably. Also having Selussa’s long legs in full view so early in the blasted morning.
The Gish might have had a hand in it as well.
Literally.
Fucking confusing stuff.
“Which witch?” Selussa asked carefully.
“The late Edlenn,” Flix replied and blew more smoke out of his mouth. “But you thought of another, yes?”
“No,” Selussa denied it but not very convincingly.
“What name does she go by now?” Flix asked casually.
“Moira,” Rhys said over Selussa’s glare. He preferred to have the Gish on their side.
“Is Moira heading towards Wetull?” Flix asked and tapped his pipe on the leg of the chair to empty it. “She must be for Ralnor to brave the journey. Heh-he. And I thought the wyvern will turn out to be the most exciting thing that Glen would ever have to face.”
“The Wyvern is real?” Rhys queried perking up.
The fuck?
“What’s a Glen?” Selussa asked confused and Flix chuckled.
“She asked the same thing. His Cofol wife.” Flix told her. “But there’s no easy answer here one can give. You should hope he turns out to be better than what the oracles decreed.”
Two witches but one of them dead.
A Wyvern.
“What did the oracles say about him?” Rhys asked briskly.
“You want the short version?” Flix taunted. “I don’t have time for that even. I wanted to join the festivities before I spotted you two younglings. Why are you here then? Why not travel with Ralnor to see the ruins of the Empire?”
Rhys pursed his mouth. “You want a trade? Is that it?” He asked the Gish and Flix nodded with a naughty smirk.
“I’ve said enough already. Haven’t talked in years and got carried away,” Flix said hoarsely and added in a flirting manner. “We came close Rhys and I was affected.”
Fuck’s sake. I was fucking drugged!
“The Baron wants a man killed,” Rhys said wryly feeling Selussa’s stare penetrating the side of his head.
“A bad man?” Flix queried.
“Pretty bad. But I’ve met worse,” Rhys glanced at Selussa. “The Baron is not much better.”
“Hmm. Does Oras not speak to you?” Flix asked. “You would know. The name of the aggrieved soul and the name of the culprit are always written on the ashes.”
“We use scrolls now. Parchments mostly,” Rhys explained. “Not much camping in the wilderness.”
“No altars?” Flix asked with a smile.
“Not really. Anyway only a name appeared on the… menu. It had room left at the…” Rhys cleared his throat under Flix’s scrutiny. “No damage has been done to the Baron is the long and short of it. He just fears for the future.”
“Would Ralnor take a contract under such vague conditions?” Flix asked casually.
“Would Dar Nym?” Rhys asked aggressively.
“If Ralnor’s Silent Servants are like those of the Circle then you know the answer,” Flix replied. “We don’t question orders but you are.”
“One could justify it,” Rhys murmured.
“One could but should he? I’m in the wrong here and have led you astray perhaps. For it is for you to decide and not for past masters. This is your guild. What you’ll make of it is in your hands.” Flix said tiredly. “How did the Baron knew to call on the Servants without contacting Oras first?”
“The woman with the pendant told him,” Rhys replied. “She was left in charge, before I took over.”
“So the rules have already changed.” Flix said a little surprised. “Ralnor left it to your discretion?”
“More or less,” Rhys grunted.
“Then what he made is better than what Dar Nym had created, for the Circle left no wiggle room to anyone. Even in its flawed state this is... Ralnor actually veered away again out of spite but moved closer to what Oras wants. Hmm. A decent leader could serve the god steering the guild with a steady hand. For Silent Servants should listen to Oras and serve no other.”
“So… what about…” Rhys started and Flix stopped him raising his hand.
“I gave more than I received.”
There was a bit of hidden meaning there as well.
“You danced around a lot of subjects,” Rhys grunted angrily and it came out wrong also.
“Much to think about,” Flix replied. “You should as well.”
21st of Quintus 194 NC
“That her?” Rhys asked staring at the Demames soldiers guarding the road. The approaches to the palace teeming with guards and cavalry on the lookout for any killers on the loose.
Like them.
Them specifically.
Eh.
“I think that’s the Queen Regent next to the King,” Selussa reported from the roof of the post office building. She had a spyglass with her, since they were across the square four blocks from Nattas’ villa to the south and two blocks from the palace. The center of the Old City basically. “She looks good for her age.”
“She’s ain’t that old from what I heard. A bit over thirty,” Rhys hissed spotting another patrol marching their way and shoving people away. He assumed a tired expression, resting his back on the side of the building. The climb was too ambitious for him, so he had send Selussa up there.
Girl was nimble as a cat.
Hence her moniker.
“Like the King? Damn he looks good to eat,” the female commented in the meantime and Rhys rolled his eyes instead of answering. A sergeant stared at him suspiciously.
“Officer,” Rhys greeted him.
The sergeant stopped. “You’re a visitor?”
“Yeah, here for the festival,” Rhys replied keeping his mouth closed.
“What’s in the bag?”
“A mandolin,” Rhys retorted as there were musicians gathering near the amphitheater on the west side of the square and the many stands setup there. There was one inside. He had bought it from a drunk bard yesterday along the ridiculous yellow cloak he had over his clothes.
To say Rhys was boiling under the many garbs was an understatement.
“Never heard one played. Huh. Better head back then,” the Lorian sergeant grunted. Rhys had thought for a moment the officer was about to ask him to whip a tune out. “They are about to start.”
“Will do,” Rhys replied eagerly and watched them heading away.
“Hey,” Selussa whispered popping her head out of the edge of the roof above him.
“Did you see her?”
“Only blond head near the Queen is the city’s Mayor, Laran Alden. Plenty of grey, some black. All men.”
Not that pompous prick, Rhys thought sourly. “Anyone else with tits?”
“A brunette. She’s quiet as a mouse. You think that’s her?”
“How old is she?” Rhys asked. He hadn’t seen Maja in fifteen years.
“Twenty something… my age.”
“She’s too young.”
If Verano was sixty then Maja was fifty at the minimum now.
“Can I drop the rope now?” Selussa asked tiredly. “The heat is doing my head in up here. The birds have pooped everywhere and I’ve no other pair of pants!”
“Can’t you climb down?”
“To the second floor. Jump on the balcony. What if they spot me?”
Rhys puffed out and looked up and down the road. There were people coming and going. Mostly locals but also visitors.
A lot of eyes.
None of them appeared blind.
“No rope. Get to the second floor instead. Then smile a lot and pretend you’re lost or ask for the latrine,” Rhys hissed and went across the street to have a better view of the square.
----------------------------------------
“The Fourth Legion has set up camp outside the city!”
The fancy-dressed Herald had stood on the small stone podium at the middle of the square where the fountain was and read from a gigantic scroll in a big voice, playing it up for the gathered crowd. Other nearby stands selling alcohol and foodstuff, with crews of engineers still working on setting up the large roof of the central stage where the plays and music acts would be presented in less than ten days’ time. The possibility of the King being in attendance, however minute, had brought a whole lot of visitors to the coastal city.
Plus all the soldiers arriving every other day it seemed.
“The King is dining with the Queen Regent! The Duke of Demames and the Duke of Illirium are present!”
Rhys wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a cloth, the lump still there from the previous day. He had some water from his flask keeping near one of the less busy stands and watching for any sign of the royals getting out of the Domus Di Alden. The idea was to approach the carriage if it was possible and get a better look at the Queen’s entourage. Assuming she wouldn’t travel with the King.
“The Three Sisters of the Peninsula have declared their independence from the Khanate! The Khan might have to sail back to deal with them! We say good riddance to him! Lesia mourns the loss of Sir Emerson Lennox. Duke Anker Est Ravn despairs at the untimely demise of Sir Mark Est Ravn! The Khanate claimed Issir’s Eagle! Dark days are ahead for Kaltha!”
On and on the Herald went, paused for a while and then read the news again. Some news were fresher than others but not by much and only local stuff were up to date. Dan Mori-Yaule came out of the crowd walking briskly, her gait sure despite having played at being a monkey climbing up three storeys not half an hour ago.
Half a dozen years make a difference, Rhys thought pensively and smelled Redleaf again. He blinked and looked about, then recoiled seeing Flix standing in the shade a meter away from him wearing a huge straw hat on his head. The lit pipe in his hand again.
“Found anything, hmm?”
“Thought you didn’t care,” Rhys retorted.
“I don’t care but I’m curious,” Flix explained. “I’m a Gish silly.”
“The place is too packed to approach.”
“Can’t you get in at night?”
“Yeah, but it depends on whether Maja is in a talking mood. Can’t have arguments with so many armed guards around. I can’t understand what’s going on with her,” Rhys admitted.
“Heard she’s married to that scribe,” Flix said casually.
“So?”
“The Baron said it’s a cover but maybe it isn’t for her?” Flix suggested. “You never know what lays inside a person’s heart or what he truly likes. Or whom. Can’t the Guild’s Servants have feelings?”
“They can,” Rhys replied eyeing the masqueraded Gish. Maybe masqueraded wasn’t the right word. Flix wasn’t hiding under the clothes. That’s what he was really.
Flix turned to look at him. He wasn’t bigger than a kid, face lost under the shade of the huge hat. A new dress with small roses stitched on it, red and blue blooming flowers over the white cloth.
“I want to dance in the festival again,” Flix whispered and Rhys glanced at the looking at the palace gates Selussa. “But I forgot how to approach normal people. You talk with who you know,” the Gish added a little sad. “Or feel comfortable around. Unless you find someone that sees you and not what you’ve done or who you were. Maybe she found that. Times passes before you know and faces fade away. Friends and lovers taken. Nothing lasts.”
“I heard the Gish are great scouts,” Rhys said. “Dar Vranga probably the best of them all.”
“Is this an offer?” Flix asked coyly.
“Strictly business but I’m as good an employer as the best you had,” Rhys retorted brusquely and Selussa snorted as she was eavesdropping.
“Aren’t you wanted by the guards?” Flix asked and a crazy-eyed teenager approached them. An Issir of all things. A couple of more half-breeds in his company that had stayed behind under the musicians’ large platform ten meters away, creating a small group of their own.
“So what? Are you scared?” Rhys taunted the chuckling Gish regaining his mojo and then glared at the searching about worried young man that had a blue scarf on his head. He looked eighteen. Nineteen at the most. “Do you mind? We’re talking!” Rhys barked angrily to scare him away and the young man blinked, afore grinning like the world’s biggest idiot.
“They stole my lute,” he told Rhys who didn’t care nor did he want to talk to him at all. They created an even bigger group of Issirs with him standing near them and some bored sergeant might think it a good idea to come check on them again. “I had it in a sack and they took it. Snatched it and ran away! I have found a couple of locals that play strings eager to try some new stuff for the—”
Rhys placed a heavy hand on the young man’s shoulder and cut the bard off midsentence. The assassin gazed in his eyes soberly afore speaking smartly and in a clear to understand manner.
“I don’t give a shit kid.”
“You look like a musician,” the bard insisted remaining unfazed and then glanced at the Gish. Flix blew smoke on his face suggestively. This shook the bard up some but not enough to go away. “Ahm… I thought to ask you to come play with us? Maybe we keep a chorus going?”
“I don’t sing.” Rhys retorted adamantly and Flix started laughing almost getting himself choked with the smoke.
“He doesn’t,” Selussa assured the bard. “But snores a lot.”
“Right. So you play? Strings, flute?” The bard asked hopefully. Rhys was listening to him but also keeping an eye on the square. A large patrol had entered now. That sergeant leading this new group of about fifty legionnaires and a couple of officers towards them.
“I… don’t…” Rhys started, Flix chuckling at his predicament and Selussa sobering up seeing the soldiers marching towards them.
“Hey, come on mate!” That stupid young bard yelled loudly and punched him lightly on the chest. “Help us out here. I have a tune that’s burning my innards. Blooming fresh inspiration! It wants to come out! You’re feeling me?” A Centurion ordered a stop to the march and the sergeant turned his head at them. “What do you say? We’ll just run it one time, just hop on that stage with us!”
Rhys wanted to gut him like a fish and hang him upside down the roof of the platform by his innards. He scrunched his mouth this way and that, the sergeant squinting his eyes remembering Rhys standing in the street across the square earlier. About fifty stiff legionnaires boiling under the strong sun in their metal helmets and probably coiled like vipers with pent-up anger at the world in general, but an order away from pouncing on anything or anyone.
“I’ve a mandolin,” Rhys hissed and the bard clenched both his fists in triumph. “In the bag. But I can’t play with a broken finger.”
“Ouch,” the bard gasped still grinning. Nigh punch-able face Rhys had seen in years. “Sorry mate… ahm, can I used it? I’m Jan-Bert.”
“Rhys,” the assassin hissed pursing his mouth. “Let me get it for you,” he murmured thinking to stab the idiot in the kidneys, then walk him bleeding down his pants behind the stand and dumb him under it. A quick one minute job max, but there was that sergeant gawking at him as if Rhys had his prick out or something.
“Alright!” Jan-Bert yelled with enthusiasm to his group and a couple of musicians gathered under the platform. “We’re on lads!”
A Centurion turned his head around to look at Jan-Bert curious. A shifty looking dude with smart eyes and a trimmed but thick black beard. Had the officer not had that fancy armour on Rhys could have pictured him easily on the helm of a pirate ship.
Or smuggling pilfered jewelry from the Turtle Isles.
So he gave Jan-Bert the mandolin.
----------------------------------------
The bard climbed up the stairs already tuning the strings and high-fived the young bards waiting for him up there. While the festival was days away many hopeful bards had come to play a tune or two in front of the crews and the early visiting crowd. Create a bit of a buzz around themselves or just score a couple of coins to have a decent meal. Aegium wasn’t a cheap city in the spring and was criminally expensive in the nearing summer.
“Well, they are interested in the kid,” Selussa said coming to stand next to him with Flix smoking his pipe on Rhys’ right side. “The officer. That’s a Dottore’s badge on the armour.”
“Mmm.” Rhys grunted not happy with having the legionnaires gathering behind them under the platform to watch the young bards play. Enough of a civilian crowd had approached as a matter of fact and were now standing behind the army’s lads.
The latter a Maniple at least.
On leave perhaps but they had come fully equipped for a scrap.
Jan-Bert showed the other three bards with him the tune under the loud encouragement of some of the locals. Mostly those working the stands as they had witnessed their potential clientele multiplying in mere minutes.
“I’ve seen him in camp,” the officer told the sergeant behind Rhys’ back. “He’s good. Like really talented, but a bit raw. Unsure still.”
“Don’t like strings so much Dottore,” the Demames sergeant replied respectfully.
“How is my friend the Duke?”
“Bothered with repairs back home,” the sergeant said. “Lots of damages. It’s been four years of strife. Lots of marching. Aegium is nice.”
“Six for me,” the Dottore replied. “Lots of marching also and so far as the city goes. Well, the weather’s nice and I always enjoyed Aegium, but I’ll take Asturia over it. Aye,” he added and Jan-Bert came at the edge of the platform, the mandolin in hand. He whipped the long scarf over his left shoulder and brought both hands on the small compact string instrument. Jan Bert stared at the two half-breeds under the platform nervously and the female yelled at him with conviction raising a dark-skinned arm high. The sun that was in the crowd’s eyes hid behind a wayward lonely cloud that had appeared on the clear sky, a single sunray staying on the anxious bard like a spotlight.
“The time is now Luff!” The half-breed gushed and Flix pushed the rim of his hat up using his pipe, while Jan-Bert turned his head around to give the tempo to the bard with the bass, the two lutes nodding at him and then Luff started humming as if he was in Uher’s Temple choir.
One… two-three-four!
“Dreams o’ spring whisper of the meek reigning this realm,” Jan-Bert sang gaining confidence as he went further. “Humble, valiant champions taking the helm. Valens was killed afore ‘Long’ fell at Mercator’s Inn…”
“What is this?” The sergeant gasped angrily behind Rhys. “Tomas get up there and stop him!”
“Belay that order!” The Dottore snapped and a Decanus pushed against Rhys’ back while the crowd started getting into the song after the initial shock. “Give him a little more time sergeant.”
“Sir!” The sergeant protested. “The King is across the square!”
“It’s a song about the king sergeant,” the Dottore assured him. “You just have to listen.”
A tensed Rhys moved a bit to the right to get some distance between him and the army, felt Flix standing frozen near his knee and saw out of the corner of his left eye Selussa dancing to the rhythm of the song that had turned rowdy, very fast and the mandolin he’d bought for half a gold Eagle leading the charge. The whole square started singing the refrain, the quiet late noon Old City District coming alive.
“Ligur kicked Holt’s bridge,” Jan-Bert sang, his face drenched in sweat and that light giving him a divine glow that mesmerized the singing crowd. None other more enthusiastic than the Dottore and the soldiers that had been through most of it. “But a tiger punched the lynchpin back in,” Jan-Bert roared the next line. “Darn it, this is a win!”
The spectators booming in a deafening manner, no doubt the sound reaching Lucius’ family villa about three hundred meters away at the other end of the square.
LONG LIVE THE KING
“Now that’s a good one right there,” the Dottore told the enthused sergeant hoarsely. “The kid is going places for sure.”
Rhys slapped Selussa’s elbow to get her moving while everyone pushed forward to reach the smiling bards, others placing coins on their feet or asking for another song. He turned to cut behind the merchant’s stand, then loop around to head for a side street but realized Flix was still standing there staring at the now flooded with people stage.
“Hey old head,” he told him. “We gotta go. Are you coming?”
“Did you feel it?” Flix asked him and Rhys grimaced not understanding what he was talking about. “It’s in the air.”
“What is?” Rhys asked nervously, Selussa tapping his back to get them going. “We need to get out of the crowd Flix.”
“Eh, powerful magic Rhys. It sipped everywhere, clothes, skin. A crowd spell,” Flix murmured sounding a little disappointed. “You didn’t feel anything?”
Rhys had barely listened to the song, his mind on the fifty plus armed dudes ganging up behind them and busy to find a way to get away.
“It’s just music,” Rhys argued and guided the small creature through the opening between the two emptied food stands.
“I prefer old girl instead of old head,” Flix griped holding on to his large hat. “And that was a spell, yes it was.”
Rhys paused the moment they reached the alley next to the amphitheater and breathed out, whilst checking to see if they were followed.
They weren’t.
“So what does this mean?” Selussa asked fanning her flushed face.
“There’s a witch in Aegium,” Flix replied.
Three witches, Rhys thought keeping the count.
One of them is dead.
“Where to now Dar Tulca?” Dar Mori-Yaule asked. “Do we get back to Nattas’ place and try again on the morrow?”
Dar Tulca stared at the thoughtful face of old Dar Vranga and then back at the younger female assassin. Several generations of fellow killers right there, Rhys thought a little proud he’d lived to see it. Then glanced at the clear sky, not a single cloud anywhere near the bright sun and shook his head thinking on Flix’s words.
“I say Asturia,” he finally said and looked at the comely Cofol meaningfully. “Easy to reach from the new road. A good travel in the summer, a bit of taste of home for us desert kids.”
“I’ve barely seen the desert. Not my favorite,” Selussa retorted. “That was Zestari.”
“Gish like the water,” Flix added a little uncomfortable. “And the desert might finish me off at this point.”
“We’ll just follow the Framtond. Stick to the god darn trees!” Rhys muttered but regained his footing in the next breath and raised his fist to steel his companions’ spines. “Are you scared? Is that it? Well you need to snap out of it and commit right here and now. Oras shadow! What are we, a bunch of poofters?”
And while a strong case could be made that perhaps this was true for some of them, the guild’s leader’s words sort of inspired his newly found partners to action.
So the night found them on the coastal road leading to Dev’s Mother and the city of Demames. They would catch a ship for Cartaport there. Travel to Oras Navel and then hit the Tunnel Pass for Asturia.
This was the job really.
Extended periods of inaction, boredom and tediously long journeys. Followed by short bursts of lethal action, with life or death choices decided in a split second, ghastly encounters, bad deals, scumbags for clients and sometimes if Luthos took a shining on your sorry arse, you’ll find a good partner or two, or have a bunch of really weird stuff happen, you get to keep for yourself.
Sort of even odds whence the wind will blow and not everyone is capable of appreciating this.
But if it did cut your way, then you get to talk about it over the fire and a cup of scented tea.
Yep, no one has better stories to tell than the Silent Servants.
Now that might even be a fucking oxymoron.