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Sebastian
‘Seb Oats’
The Squire | & the curious case of the slain knight
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“Ah,” the voice from before said fascinated. “An unfortunate hiccup. Uhm. Eh.”
Sebastian narrowed his eyes and reached for a shortsword sheathed on the saddle, fresh blood trickling down his forehead from the cut that had carved it down the middle.
“What deviltry is this?” Sir Luppe queried taking a step forward with Brill adding monotonously.
“A hiccup.”
The squire heard twigs snapping twenty meters away, where two large sycamore trees almost hugged each other and leafy scrubs filled up the empty space. Sir Luppe was standing about half that distance away, almost next to the man called Brill. The outline of a hand appeared next, it just sprouted out of the foliage. It hesitated for a moment and then pushed some of the shrubbery away, still remaining relatively shaded in the semi-darkness.
The nervous Sebastian made to move but the knight’s restrained voice stopped him.
“Take Luikens away Seb.”
A reedy tall figure had stepped out of the opening between the two sycamores. The hooded figure stood over seven feet tall and carried a long aged-wood staff wrapped in brass wire up to its top, where a sculpted metal figurine was secured with what looked like three skeletal fingers.
Sebastian gasped in shock at the weirdly-shaped creature, the oval top of the newcomer’s elongated skull pushed under the large hood just to offer example and Sir Luppe turned to face him as well when Brill attacked without warning.
The promise of violence fulfilled.
The knight moved first as if expecting this new development and flicked his sword upwards carving a red line on Brill’s chest, tearing at flesh and fabric. Brill recoiled and took a backwards step but moved again towards Sir Luppe, who lowered his blade to run him through. The arming sword entering under the dip of the sixth frontal rib near the heart and bursting out of the back.
Brill shuddered fatally wounded, head dropping forward.
Sebastian glanced towards the tall newcomer but didn’t see him standing there. The knight grunted glancing towards that spot himself and made to retrieve his sword. Brill stopped him raising his left arm and snatching at the guard. Sir Luppe swung his left fist and snapped Brill’s head back but the lively man, considering he’d a foot of blade buried in his chest cavity, used his right arm now to grab at the knight’s collar.
The squire moved to assist him, managed three quick strides that shortsword now in hand but felt a cold breeze touching his sweaty face and that impossibly tall figure blocked his path. Sebastian yelped and instinctively slashed with the blade at the lanky target. His opponent moved, loose tattered robes billowing and the short blade teared at them. Sebastian cursed through clenched teeth and attacked again but the creature snapped that long staff and caught his wrist.
The shortsword clattered down, Sebastian’s hand turning numb.
“Ah. Almost a break. Uhm. Must be more careful. Yes-yes.” A pair of deep red lips noticed, moving on a marble skin. Then the staff returned to stab the staggered teenager hard on the chest and send him tumbling on his back to the ground.
Sir Luppe elbowed Brill twice on the head in quick succession breaking his jaw and then used his knee to shove him away, yanking the sword out of his bloody chest. The knight kicked the faltering Brill on the hip and sent him sprawling down.
“Get Wim out of here god’s darn it!” Sir Luppe growled turning to attack the lanky creature, while a stunned Sebastian rolled on the ground to get on his feet and the male-looking painted freak pointed with his free arm behind the squire, a long and scarred, very dirty index finger extending. The skin on it a deep copper color.
Sebastian swung his head back and saw a short, comely Cofol-looking woman sprinting towards the mounted Grand Archivist of the Order. Ten meters away Sir Luppe’s advance was stopped when the still-breathing Brill grabbed at the Knight’s ankle trying to trip him up.
Events unfolding almost simultaneously now.
The knight twisted about and hacked down with his sword severing Brill’s hand off at the wrist, the newly arrived Cofol female reached Luikens who clumsily raised his right foot from the stirrups and snapped it out once. The pretty girl got a boot in the face, small nose splattering afore flattening with a sickening crunch and staggered back, with the unruffled Luikens lowering his bloody boot to snap on the horse’s sides. The horse jumped forward and despite the woman’s spastic efforts to get out of the way she got hurled four meters back with a scared yelp.
Then the horse stopped and stooped to graze at the muddy grass.
“Aha,” the tall creature noted watching the unfolding scene. “Interesting. Um. Yep.”
With a gasp Sebastian got up and run towards the frowned alchemist who had planted the leather rucksack in front of him on the saddle to rifle at its contents. The squire reached the horse and grabbed the scimitar with his throbbing right hand, just as Luikens found what he was looking for and chuckled.
“Find Brukel Seb.” Sir Luppe grunted taking a step back with the armed with a sword now, wrist-less Brill following him. The man was bleeding from several cuts and had part of his bloody liver protruding out of the gapping chest wound. “Do it,” the knight added and parried Brill’s attack away. Brill came back like an automaton, a conflicted Sebastian cursed not knowing what to do and the knight slipped his sword past the injured opponent’s attack to open a gashing would on the left side of Brill’s neck. The next slash disarming the faltering man.
“DO IT!” Sir Luppe bellowed turning his head, eyes wild and Sebastian realized he wasn’t talking to him. The squire recoiled and jumped on the saddle, whilst the gore-covered Brill stabbed a bone dagger in Sir Luppe’s spleen and Luikens raised his right arm high over his sweaty bald head.
Several things again happening in quick succession.
Sebastian heard feet tip-tapping on the ground, the blood-spattered female rushing towards them, the lanky creature raising a brow at the scene afore retreating towards the two struggling opponents, walking backwards with large awkward strides like an oversized crab. Luikens bespectacled eyes following its moves that had brought it near the staggered knight and Brill, who was now also missing the right forearm.
“Mm. Yep. Decisions-decisions. He-he,” the hooded freak taunted with a broad toothy smile and Luikens hurled the oval-shaped vial towards him, the alchemist’s free arm snapping down to smack the horse’s rear hard.
The horse neighed loudly and burst forward kicking its legs wild, Sebastian was flung back until Luikens’ steady hand stopped him, the squire catching sight of the small vial tumbling in the air behind them towards the sort of bunched up trio not even ten meters away.
“Mother’s mercy!” The trampled under the horse’s hooves for a second time Cofol girl screamed, her accent strangely different now and the scream lost under the hard galloping of the panicked horse. Sebastian managed to grab at the reins almost cutting a finger off with the scimitar, twisted on the saddle with his heart trying to break out of his sternum and glanced back.
Time ticking away slowly.
One half-breath and the horse reached the edge of the forest, Sir Luppe and Brill fighting in the now darkening behind them opening. Luikens strange vial reaching the lanky creature, aimed at center mass and then going through it as the ‘thing’ blinked out of existence.
A breath and their mount jumped over a fallen trunk, Sebastian losing the saddle under him and the vial crashed on the ground between the two opponents.
A moment later the night turned to day and the day promptly dissolved into a strange white color. A whitening.
“Gaah!” Sebastian cried out blinded by the sudden flash of pure white light and then a terrible wind blew outwards, snapping branches and uprooting trees. It raised scrubs and grass from the ground, dug out the earth as well and the blast half-turned their horse on its next jump. The scared animal landed badly, Sebastian feeling sharp pieces of wood, rocks, earth and gluey material bombarding his body just before a roaring, deafening sound arrived that shook the ground under them.
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The forest was on fire.
A swollen-eyed Sebastian slapped at his smoking robes and felt the horse buckling under him. He tried to stop it, but his ears were ringing and felt sick to his stomach. The animal galloped for a little while, the waning night now lit up by the burning camp in front of them and the burning forest they had just exited.
Eventually the animal stopped and Sebastian more fell from the saddle than climbed down. He staggered on shaky legs and looked back at the destruction. A portion of the forest missing, about a ten-meter wide gap now formed there. But the rest of it was relatively intact, but for the perimeter that was now on fire, especially considering how big the explosion had felt to him.
“Aaah,” the squire cried out, moving his jaw and looked at the stooped over the saddle Luikens. The alchemist’s back torn and covered with wood splinters. Blood rivulets running down his tattered robes.
Sebastian walked towards him but paused feeling disoriented to empty the contents of his stomach on the ground. A bit of blood mixed in the putrid mess and his ears popping one after the other as the sound returned.
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Horses approaching from both directions. From the North and from the south, behind the massive Horselords camp. The road coming from the river. Sebastian noticed the ground was covered with corpses and dead horses, mostly near the burning camp but several slain Issirs and Horselords had fallen near where they were standing.
“We need to go,” Luikens hissed through his teeth.
“You killed Sir Luppe,” Sebastian snapped, feeling a wave of anger flooding his senses, followed but a deep pain. Most of it emotional.
“Lad, it was an order,” Luikens told him tiredly.
“Lies!” Sebastian growled irate and made to hit him with the scimitar but stopped at the last moment with a pained snarl.
“That thing wasn’t a human,” the alchemist said with a grimace of pain and checked at his bag. He’d covered the bag to protect it with his body during their mad dash out of the forest. “Nor a living thing. Even if I explained, you wouldn’t understand.”
“What are you talking about?” Sebastian grunted and tried to climb on the horse, tears running down his dirty face. He paused seeing the first riders arrive and clenched his hurting fingers on the scimitar’s handle.
“Is that you ‘Oats’?” Brother Dumont asked and jumped from the saddle upon reaching them. “Tanner get the Assayer!” He ordered and walked briskly towards Sebastian. “Sir Ravn is holding the rear a couple of kilometers away lad. The Lord Commander sent us to find him,” the burly man-at-arms of the Order told the solemn squire.
“Sir Luppe was killed,” a saddened Sebastian croaked and the ordained warrior made the symbol of Uher over his ringmail headpiece.
“Where?” He asked and Sebastian showed him the smoking gash opened at the woods fifty meters away. “He’s with Uher now. Can you ride lad? There’s a lot of cavalry coming. They can’t see us now but they can see the forest burning. So they’ll be here soon.”
A numb Sebastian nodded wiping his face.
“Tanner, how’s Luikens?” Dumont asked tensely looking towards the lights coming from the burning camp half a kilometer away.
“He’ll live. Wim’s like a lizard sir.”
“You need to carry me on your back brother Tanner,” a much more weaker-sounding Luikens was heard saying. Sebastian was now convinced the sneaky little man was faking most of it. “I’ve lost too much blood.”
“I’m getting you on the saddle,” Tanner retorted curtly. “That’s it.”
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With an ululating cry two Horselords came at them, riding hard to cut them off ten minutes later. Dumont turned his horse around to meet with them, ordering Tanner to keep heading north and Sebastian turned after the senior member of the Order without a second thought.
He was feeling empty. But also full of anger and pain. More angry than hurt, although the squire was plenty hurt in reality after a grueling night of horrors. Sebastian followed after the second scout that tried to hack at Tanner’s loaded horse’s legs to stop it. He came up behind him and downed the scimitar catching the Khanate’s warrior on the left shoulder. The blade breaking the scapula bone after tearing a large piece of flesh and leather armour away.
The Horselord recoiled with a cry of agony and twisted on the saddle but Sebastian plunged the scimitar under his jaw as he rode next to him to cut it short. The two horses collided and kept running together for a while, the scout tumbling backwards and crashing on his head on the gravel road.
Sebastian turned his horse in a wide arc with a snarl, leaving the steppe animal to gallop away on its own and went after the other scout that was still exchanging blows with Brother Dumont.
The Horselord heard the sound of hard galloping rushing him from the sides and twisted around, snapping his arm holding the reins to change direction. Dumont’s wild hack missed him but Sebastian crashed his horse on the scout’s, the two animals twirling about in a crazy pirouette, the frenzied squire swinging furiously with the scimitar at his rattled opponent. He got him with a wide slash right on the chest, punched him with the guard ripping upper lip and most of his front teeth away and then run the edge of the scimitar on the hapless scout’s neck almost decapitating him.
Dumont’s galloping horse reached him a moment later and stopped a maddened Sebastian from swinging the bloody blade again at the target.
“He’s gone lad. Fell from the saddle and he ain’t getting back up,” Dumont informed him soberly, putting a hand on the squire’s horse’s neck to slow it down. “You need to calm down now.”
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They were intercepted by Sir Thor’s Cavalry twenty minutes later. The impressive noble scion riding to meet them on his warhorse. Sebastian could see the Hydra’s long necks and heads depicted on the knight’s expensive cape and horse’s blanket. Carved on the chest plate of his armour.
“Did you find Sir Ton?” The High Regent’s heir asked them with a brief glance at Sebastian and the seemingly half-dead Wim Luikens.
“No sign of him milord,” Dumont replied. “Perhaps the body you’ve retrieved is him?”
“No.” Sir Thor grunted shaking his head. “It’s a mistake. We should make another effort.”
“Milord,” Dumont argued tiredly but Sir Thor seemed reluctant to listen to him.
“You can move on,” he told Dumont. “I’ll send another party.”
“There’s no time—”
“We’ll make time!” The noble knight snapped cutting him off and Luikens was heard apparently in a condition to speak.
“The camp lays in ruins. Unusable,” he told the grimacing Sir Thor. “Don’t make a tragedy out of a difficult win my Lord.”
“What am I going to tell his father? His brothers? Sisters?” Sir Thor rustled, his voice hoarse and Sebastian nodded in understanding. The squire wanted to go back and look for Sir Luppe.
“He died a hero,” Luikens assured him and Sebastian glanced at the alchemist unsure. “I can attest to that my Lord. I was there.”
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A day later.
3rd of Nonus 194 NC.
A kilometer from the Red Bridge
Issir fortifications
North banks of Balworth River
3rd Foot’s walled camp
A bandaged Sebastian stood outside the crude field headquarters. The square timber building resembling a large stable built on the east side of the road where the terrain was flat. A large wall extending to the edges of the rocky land dominating the west side, the cliffs leading down towards Quarterport but you couldn’t reach it from there.
The silent squire had half his head covered, stitches on the outside and inside of his mouth, chin and top of head. A tied up right wrist, with a broken finger and a dislocated elbow on his left. There were black spots all over his body and legs. Some from bouncing on the ground several times and others especially at the back of his neck and ears from burns suffered from the blast. Sebastian had locked the pain away and tried to keep his tired mind from repeating the fated ‘foray beyond the Red Bridge’ events again and again. Egbert had been killed. Sir Mart Luppe was gone. Duke Rinus’ son, Sir Ton had fallen and several brothers killed along knights and soldiers.
Everyone wanted to give him an opinion on what happened, whether they were successful or not. Sebastian didn’t care. Horselords were still inside the capital and they were fighting a war he didn’t understand. The world suddenly loomed larger and even more sinister, enemies lurking in its dark recesses when you least expected them. Allies not the grand paragons of virtue he believed and their role shrouded in mystery. He had the sense that the wrong people had been lost for lesser creatures to survive.
“You’re next lad,” a cultured voice said. “The Priesthood is gathered inside. Good luck. I wouldn’t speak if I were you.”
Sebastian raised his eyes to stare in Sir Thor Est Ravn’s face. With his square jaw, dark blue eyes and trimmed goatee, the noble knight appeared larger than life. His armour dented but still gleaming well-polished, the ivory handle of his longsword covered in shaped silver scales.
Sir Thor signed with his head for him to enter through the door.
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Archmagister Kelholt was sitting in front of the High Regent’s heavy oaken desk, with Sande Te Hove and Priest Brukel standing near the right wall of the large room with the one-armed Inquisitor Maas Vellers standing on the left. Baron Grote was showing something on a map to the High Regent. The Shield’s finger way out into the Shallow Sea and nowhere near the capital.
“Is this the squire?” Lord Anker asked evenly without looking at him. The nervous squire was standing five meters away.
Sebastian made to move closer but Vellers arm found his chest and stopped him roughly. Sebastian grimaced and bowed his head with a glance at the hard-faced Inquisitor.
“Answer the Lord’s query,” Vellers hissed warningly.
“Aye my Lord Regent,” Sebastian said, pursing his mouth.
Lord Anker raised his eyes to look at him curious. Then his stare lowered at his waist.
“Is this a Khanate blade squire?”
“Aye it is my lord. I’ve lost mine.”
Lord Anker nodded without changing expression.
“His name is Sebastian milord,” Sande Te Hove intervened. “We call him Seb Oats.”
“Sebastos,” Lord Anker said glancing at the map and then returning his eyes on him. “The word for your name in Imperial. Respected. It’s a good name to shorten it squire. Befitting a monk I would say.”
“Yes my Lord.” Sebastian agreed although other people called him how they wanted and he thought it needless to correct them. He saw no point in it.
“Wim Luikens reported you saved his life,” the High Regent said. “Multiple times.”
“My Lord Sir Luppe sacrificed himself for us,” Sebastian argued trying to be respectful. “I did nothing.”
Lord Anker stared at the thoughtful Archmagister. “A knight of the Order?”
“He was knighted by the… previous King Lord Anker.”
“Even so Luikens wants you to be his apprentice,” the High Regent of Kaltha continued.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“We shall allow young Seb to work with the Grand Archivist,” Kelholt informed Lord Anker. “As his new apprentice.”
“What do you want?” Lord Anker asked Sebastian ignoring the Archmagister. “You earned the right to carry that sword squire.”
“I’d like to serve the Order sire,” Sebastian croaked.
“But not Luikens,” Lord Anker deduced and rapped his fingers on the table. “You’ll need to find a knight then young man. Not many will take a bastard outside the Order.”
And the Order might not look favorably to you turning down the Assayer’s offer was his meaning.
“Yes my Lord.” Sebastian agreed respectfully feeling the Archmagister’s intent stare on him. He gulped down nervously and noticed a thin smile on the High Regent’s face.
“You are dismissed brother Sebastos,” Lord Anker said a touch of warmth in his voice. “The throne appreciates your service.”
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“How did it go?” Sir Thor asked the two priests the moment they exited with Sebastian.
“The kid turned Luikens’ offer down,” Sande te Hove replied with a grimace. “I’ll have to convince the Lord Commander to find him a knight soon. We don’t exactly have a lack of squires. It’s the other way around.”
“What about Dumont?” Sebastian asked and the magister shook his head.
“He isn’t knighted. It takes a bit more work than that lad. It’s a chain and you can’t break it or jump the hoops. Will you work for me? More chanting, less fighting, a bit of diplomacy and some backstabbing I guess,” Sande te Hove offered. “Plus I can talk the old man down from having you skinned. You just embarrassed him in front of the High Regent and weakened Luikens in his eyes.”
“I’m missing a squire,” Sir Thor said. “I mean I have Tod but he’s injured and I need another.”
Sebastian stared at the noble knight unsure. “Milord I…”
“Can you read your letters?” Sir Thor asked stopping him.
“Aye. And I can write some.”
“He’s very clever,” Sande te Hove assured him. “Not good with a blade though.”
“I heard otherwise,” Sir Thor argued and smiled. “My mind is made up magister Hove.”
The magister bowed his head. “Of course my Lord.”
“Don’t we need to ask for Lord Commander’s permission?” Sebastian asked a little perturbed.
“Fuck him,” Sir Thor retorted and scratched his goatee with his fingers. “He’ll say yes anyway.”
“I appreciate your kindness my lord,” Sebastian said and bowed his head.
“Are you serious now? Are you going to refuse?” Sir Thor asked with a grimace.
“Ahm. No Sir. I wasn’t.”
“Then cut the lord stuff. Sir Thor is fine. Unless there’s a nasty maiden walking by. Then use it by all means. You’re leaving us magister?” Thor asked turning to the smiling Sande te Hove.
“I need to return to his Eminence. See to smoothen things out,” Sande explained.
“You better. Nothing more lethal than a prominent man. Sage or not,” Sir Thor deadpanned.
“I’ll find Lord Commander,” Brukel said in his turn.
“Priest Brukel if I could have a word?” Sebastian asked remembering Sir Luppe’s warning.
“Can it wait young Seb? I’ll be back in ten minutes at the most,” Brukel said with a tired smile. “It’s important to speak to the Lord Commander first lad.”
“I will wait by the stables,” Sebastian said not wanting to remain outside the headquarters.
“Good grief,” Sir Thor intervened. “Go ahead priest, we’ll be in the officer’s barracks.”
“You’ll have me walk across the camp Thor?” Brukel asked a little miffed.
“Yes Brukel, I would.” Thor replied with a stupid grin and then winked at the uncertain squire. “Don’t worry about him. We go way back, well afore he started sucking on Uher’s cock, Brukel actually liked women.”
“Sir Thor Est Ravn!” Brukel admonished him with a glare.
“Oh just fuck off,” Thor retorted. “I’m telling the truth. Else Uher’s Light will burn me right here and now.”
Sebastian glanced at the cloudy sky a little apprehensive but nothing came down and the noble knight interrupted his gazing with a soft tap on his shoulder. A sign they had to get moving towards the barracks.
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“Ah, hell of a week this,” Sir Thor said after they had entered his private quarters inside the large officer barracks building. He walked to a cupboard and uncorked a bottle of wine, poured some of it in a silver goblet and downed it in a go. Smacked his lips right after and poured another one. He glanced at the standing Sebastian and grimaced. “This is for Ton.” He said soberly and polished off the second helping as well. “Did you know him?”
“I haven’t… only saw him during the march sir and in a meeting before that.”
“Um. Yeah… he had a great sense of humor,” Thor reminisced. “That son of a bitch could go crazy for a pair of tits. Brave as fuck. Ah. Fucking allhells,” he murmured and pulled a chair to sit on, moving his scabbard out of the way. “We almost got killed on Eplas.” Thor continued now completely serious.
“It was a difficult task sir,” Sebastian said respectfully and Thor smiled bitterly. Pursed his mouth tightly and then let out a deep sigh.
“Difficult. We landed on Eplas and kicked the Horselords out of their port. Laid waste to Rin Yue-Tu with the fucking slant-eyed devils hurling all manner of shit on our heads. Marched down the Snake’s Spine with snow up to our horses’ bellies’.” He continued reminiscing. “Through Hellfort’s Pass to recapture Hellfort and cross the blasted Teid River. We had no idea where we were going but we hunted them down into their own plaguing domain. We almost won near Altarin you know. It was a close affair but we had no reserves against the whole of Khan’s army. You’ve seen it. His army. Imagine fighting on their own turf. It wasn’t difficult. It was a king’s madness…” Sir Thor paused grimacing and stared at the wooden wall of his room.
“Your attack hurt the Khan’s army yesterday sir,” Sebastian said to lift his spirits.
“Luikens takes the credit for that,” Sir Thor replied. “Yeah. Not good enough.”
“Sir Thor,” Sebastian started but stopped unsure on what to say.
“Two brothers I had,” Sir Thor said tiredly. “One lost a whole army and the other a High Queen,” he shook his head and reached for the empty goblet. He stared at it for a moment. “Both are highly regarded. Ask anyone. Judged by Uher’s standards. Hell, if my sister wasn’t as crazy as a bag of cats then she would have better chances on taking the throne in the eyes of my father.”
“I’m sure Lord Anker has the best in his mind for the Duchy and that would be you Sir Thor.”
“You’re good with words mister Seb,” Thor said and placed the goblet on the table. “Clever. Is that from your mother?”
“My mother was a common woman sir. Died of the fever,” Sebastian replied stiffly.
“What about your father?”
“Some sailor or other,” Sebastian replied and Sir Thor nodded thoughtfully.
“Don’t take life too seriously Seb,” he told him. “Half of what you see is just theater. People are very much alike. Even Horselords.”
“What is a nasty maiden sir?” Sebastian asked as he was curious.
The knight stood back looking at him with clever eyes.
“A woman that knows where to sheath the point and not miss the mark,” he finally said and Sebastian nodded now getting it.
In fact, he’d met one such capable woman.
“Like Lady Siske then.”
Sir Thor stared at him blankly for a moment and then started laughing almost doubling over as he got totally overcome by mirthfulness. “Goodness me lad,” he managed to say wiping the tears from his eyes. “Fuck, I needed that. Thanks. Ah, I think you completely missed my point… mister Oats. Aye. Like by a whole fucking lot. Wow. I’ll stick to melee if I was you.”
And Sebastian nodded agreeing.
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A tired Brukel entered an hour later and then walked back outside at Thor’s insistence to clean his muddy boots. Upon reentering the balding priest walked to the same cupboard and helped himself to the Knight’s wine.
“Praised be Uher,” he chanted and glugged down the contents of his goblet. “Ah. Let’s make a libation to Tyeus eh?” He told Sebastian and poured himself another one.
“Are you going to throw a liturgy for the whole pantheon?” Sir Thor asked mockingly.
“A blasphemer shall walk on shit,” Brukel warned the grinning knight.
“I own thirty horses. I usually ride everywhere,” Thor reminded him without missing a beat. “Five are in the camp’s stable.”
“Braggarts shall find turds in their bowls and piss in their wine,” Brukel insisted sanctimoniously.
“Better stop drinking then,” Thor deadpanned and the priest puffed out but finished off his wine.
“Kosters agreed to your proposal,” he said with a grimace and stared at the bottle.
“Of course he has.”
Brukel glanced at Sebastian sitting on the edge of the bed and pursed his mouth. “What did you want to talk about lad?”
“We found something in the woods,” Sebastian started immediately.
“Luikens appraised the Duke about it.”
“What did he say?” Sebastian asked.
“You got attacked by Horselords,” Brukel replied. “You saved the day but Sir Luppe was killed.”
“That’s not what happened,” Sebastian said and got up from the bed.
“Luikens missed some details?” Sir Thor asked from his chair.
“Luikens lied.”
“Lad don’t push it,” Brukel warned him. “I don’t enjoy the Assayer’s company but he’s important to the kingdom’s survival.”
“Luikens?”
“Yes young Seb. You know that. You are with us for a while now,” Brukel said patiently.
“Sir Luppe was attacked by an Issir and a… tall thing,” Sebastian grunted in protest struggling to get the words out.
“A tall thing?” Thor asked and reached for the bottle. “This sounds interesting or funny as allhells. Did you have any of my wine while I was at the latrine Seb?”
“Mart was attacked by an Issir,” Brukel said and stared at the squire austerely. “What are you saying lad?”
“He told me to find you. Talk to you about it.”
“Why me?” Brukel asked and stood back. “Why not the Lord Commander? Or anyone else?”
“I think you know.”
“Know what?” Brukel asked a little impatiently.
“The man’s name was Brill.” Sebastian explained nervously trying to recall the traumatic events. “A knight. David Brill.”
“Lad,” Sir Thor said a little sad. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“David Brill is dead,” Brukel said stiffly.
“Sir Luppe said the same thing. But that man was real… He looked like him. Sir Luppe though believed that something was wrong. I saw him. Luikens saw him. There was a tall… creature with him. It didn’t look human at all.”
Brukel walked to the table, dragged the second chair out and sat down gathering his robes.
“Bruk…” Thor murmured looking at him shaking. “It’s fine…”
The priest rubbed his flushed face with both hands hard and swallowed with difficulty.
“David was cut down trying to save your brother,” he said hoarsely reminiscing. “I saw the whole thing.” Brukel puffed out and reached for the goblet. Thor poured a generous amount inside, spilling some of it on the table. “He got broken in two from the fall. A lance right through him,” he continued with difficulty. “He died. When I rode away, I glanced back and saw Mark getting cut down as well. I will never forget it lad.”
“Sir Luppe said that he knew him very well,” Sebastian insisted. “Brill claimed it was him but obviously he wasn’t. He wouldn’t die priest even after getting hacked at repeatedly.”
“Luikens saw that?”
“He hurled Uher’s Light on them,” Sebastian grunted. “But that thing turned into air and it escaped.”
“The thing with this fake Brill,” Brukel said scrunching his mouth this way and that.
“I’m not lying. Uher as my witness,” Sebastian insisted. “I saw everything.”
“Could Brill have made it?” Thor asked and the priest shook his head right and left.
“Not a chance.”
“Then what, some spell?” Thor asked unsure and looked at Sebastian. “Why would Luikens…?”
“Is Tod in the barracks?” Brukel asked.
“I sent him to the kitchens.”
“He still talks with Vellers?”
“They are third cousins,” Thor reminded him.
“I know, but would Vellers talk with you?”
“What are you saying Brukel?” Thor asked and got up a little angry.
“He might have talked to Kelholt but not your father,” Brukel said.
“About what? I loved David but come on! Sir Luppe was mistaken,” Thor protested.
“It was him that insisted he was Brill,” Sebastian intervened. “Sir Luppe just didn’t believe it. Neither did Luikens.”
“What did the Assayer say?” Brukel asked.
“That Brill wasn’t really alive and that the creature wasn’t human,” Sebastian repeated. “He was tall and a… I don’t know. Weirdly made.”
“A Zilan?” Thor chanced. “The princess has dealings with them. The Khan also had one married to the Sahand is a favorite rumor in court. They do spells don’t they?”
“Anything about him other than the height?” Brukel insisted.
Sebastian furrowed his brows trying to remember the weird creature. “He talked… funny. Ah, I think his face was painted… white, but the skin on his hand was more copper in color.” The squire added and the priest’s face paled.
“Are you certain he wasn’t a human?” Brukel asked slowly.
“Absolutely. Nothing human about him,” Sebastian replied with conviction.
“Bruk you are making me nervous mate,” Thor said and looked at the priest pacing the room up and down deep in thought. The priest finally stopped, scratched his balding head uncomfortable and then said in a low voice.
“What I’ll say now, your father doesn’t know fully. It must stay in this room Thor and never leave your lips can you do that?”
“How about I take my sword out and smack you upside the head with it?” Sir Thor grunted.
“I’m serious old friend,” Brukel insisted.
“I’m serious also priest,” Thor grunted. “Speak.”
“A week before the young Prince died,” Brukel started and Sebastian stood back not expecting the story to take such a weird turn. “Two men approached Magister Gordian in Alden with a ‘better plan’ in order to pressure King Alistair to put a stop to the debauchery that has consumed Regia.”
“Who were they?”
“A Lorian and a Nord,” Brukel replied. “Members of a cult. Those obscure old gods. I got interested when they met with the Archmagister and approached them to learn more. They had part of their face, neck and chest painted white. Their god completely unknown to me and others I asked about it. It actually has no name. Until I asked around a bit more and I learned it sort of. The Painted God, the name they used.”
Thor frowned and glanced at the listening Sebastian.
“No.” He finally said emphatically with a grimace of distaste.
Brukel blinked and Sebastian looked from the one to the other.
“You’ve been in the Archive…” Brukel started and Sir Thor stopped him angrily.
“Shush! For fuck’s sake,” the knight cursed. “That’s a tale left behind priest. Nobody wants to know… nobody wants to remember. Where the tales stop and truth starts. What was before…? This is a new age and realm Brukel. All peoples have nemeses. Myths and horrors. You would go there?”
“I’m not the one bringing it up. Sande once told me something when we were younger,” Brukel insisted. “That he read part of what was decoded. He told me about what they brought to Kraken’s Nest from Ereraz. What they dug out of the guts of Godface’s Rock and the road they discovered under the Round Sea. To stop the horrors coming out of the desert our ancestors reached Godface Rock and stared beyond the Round Sea to find Godseye Isle. Sought to make contact with the horrors enemies. Obviously it didn’t end well at all.”
“What are you talking about?” Sebastian asked very confused.
Sir Thor looked at him intently for a moment and then replied raspingly. “The priest fears you saw a real Bonemancer. An Aken Bonemancer. Which is ludicrous. If they are even real, they can’t cross the sea.”
“What’s an Aken?” Sebastian asked with his mouth dry remembering the creature walking backwards like a fiendish insect. “What’s a Bonemancer?”
And Brukel told him.
-
>
>
> Sometimes there’s no warning at all.
>
> The gruesome Abyss will stir and out of its depths antediluvian horrors shall surface. For beyond a man’s petty grievances and his mortal enemy’s shallow ambitions real evil exists. Unfathomable, incomprehensible and inhumane at its very core. Alien in its wants and malevolent in its schemes. Old horrors creeping closer because humans fear the memories and cast them aside. They turn the ancient key on the sturdy locks and bar solid metal doors. Change the words and encode their meanings in old texts. The king wanted them burned, the king wanted them destroyed and forgotten. For how can one stand above all else when the tale has been distorted?
>
> An exodus can be a glorious raid if those left in command are illiterate brutes that can’t comprehend what happened. The reason apocryphal and the gods a mystery to the godless, only remembered when a choir’s song is heard. The heathen rule the realm. Their ignorance forced upon all others until nothing remains but these locked texts of memories long forgotten.
>
> When the ancient page turns and the numbers become letters again, then all shall be revealed and all darkness shall be cast aside by Uher’s Light.
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> Magister Sebastos,
>
> Grand Archivist of the Order (born 178 NC, Issir’s Eagle)
>
> Decoding the Logs of the Great Exodus
>
> -Prologue-
>
> Circa 212 NC
>
>
-
----------------------------------------
-
A day earlier
Eh. That was loud. Tin thought rising slowly from behind a smoldering cracked trunk. He reached with a hand and removed a large burning splinter from his right eye. It popped and spilt out of the socket. Down his hot face and chin. Blood mixed with watery fluids the heat soon dried up. The skin turning sticky.
Yep.
Uhum.
Ah, there. He decided and walked carefully through the set-alight devastated sycamores to where the large smoking hole had now appeared. The ground scraped clean and no sign of Brill or the human idiot remaining.
Fucking persistent weirdo.
Mmm.
What’s my name?
Who the fuck gives a shit!
Move on for crying out loud.
Motherfucking humans forget the nigh important stuff and then turn all touchy-feely about boring minutiae.
That bottle-bottoms-for-eyes trawl almost got me though.
Uhm.
Yep. Almost fucked me up.
Tin smacked his lips, the dull pain coming from the leaking wound that had been his eye not bothering him. He was excited with the action and the knowledge gained.
Learn things. Yep.
Elevate yourself. Uhum.
Improve. Improve. Improve.
Aha.
Pity about Brill.
Yep.
Eh… maybe I could find something… Um? What’s this then? He checked the melted skin for any piece of bone but he could find nothing. Slotted the skin in his mouth next to work on it with the tongue just in case, but without any success.
Still, be thorough now.
He listened for the Horselords searching about and looking for injured or any hidden enemies. The injured Tin and Atae had taken care of. Helped them move along and escape their misery.
Ah, I left the dagger back there.
Mmm.
I’ll take it later. Unless someone steals it.
Brill lost the other one.
Eh. No problem. Ayup. I’ll make another.
Working is a noble thing. It shows strength of character.
Tin wasn’t bothered about any of that. He was a little cross with the fact that the naughty little human had escaped. A small fail. Eh. We’ll fix it soon.
Not a spell, he thought, what the sneaky cunt had used. Kaletha tech. He-he.
Not all lost. Very interesting. Mmm.
Very useful. Sneakily deadly.
But also loud. An oxymoron! Ho-ho-ho!
He grinned barely keeping the chuckle in, his forked tongue licking at the crust under his gapping eyehole absentmindedly.
Tin heard feet shuffling near him and turned around. He saw a faltering Atae approaching. The right side of her body blackened, part of the head’s skin blown off and the bones of her skull showing.
Mmm.
The woman carried her detached right arm in her left hand. The severed limb black and brittle but the bone underneath intact.
Eh.
Somewhat. Probably fractured.
Atae’s right leg snapped at the thigh, almost coming off and she dropped down a couple of meters from him with a pained pathetic groan like a rotten sack of potatoes.
Skin tears like old fabric and spills everything out!
Bah.
Poor thing.
Tin stooped over her and reached with a long arm to help her up. Atae’s eyes were blurry. Eye. The other has fused into her brain. Mmm.
It’s fine though.
Minor damage.
I’ll just cut it right out.
Yea.
“I’ll need to take your good eye.” Tin told her soothingly and found a steel scoop he had in a pocket. It will do just fine. “You’ll go blind for a couple of days but the view is horrid anyway. He-he. Uhum. And I need to replace mine in the quick.”
Unless.
Tin stared at the now larger opening caused by the explosion. The field was full of dead bodies ripe for the taking.
Well then, Tin mused thoughtfully.
Don’t be lazy, he admonished himself. Just get it done. Maybe…
“No the eye will go,” he decided looking at her mauled face. Tin wiped a tear with a finger from her intact cheek. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll go for blue this time. Yep. Aha. Eh? Good-good. I knew you’ll like it.”